Other Cases of a similar Nature.—Similar cases, almost without number, are on record, in which much the same phenomena are observed. In some instances it is remarked that the subject, having written a sentence on a page, returns, and carefully dots the i's, and crosses the t's. These phenomena are not confined to the night. Persons have fallen into the magnetic state, while in church, during divine service, have gone home with their eyes closed, carefully avoiding obstacles in their way, as persons or carriages passing; and have been sent, in this state, of errands to places several miles distant, going and returning in safety.
An amusing incident is on record of a gentleman who found that his hen-roost was the scene of nightly and alarming depredations, which threatened the entire devastation of the premises, and what was strange, a large and faithful watch-dog gave no alarm. Determined to ascertain the true state of the case, he employed his servants to watch. During the night the thief made his appearance, was caught, after much resistance, and proved to be thegentleman himself, in a state of sound sleep, the author of all the mischief.
A remarkable Instance.—Another case is also related, which presents some features quite remarkable. In a certain school for young ladies, I think in France, prizes had been offered for the best paintings. Among the competitors was a young and timid girl who was conscious of her inferiority in the art, yet strongly desirous of success. For a time she was quite dissatisfied with the progress of her work, but by and by began to notice, as she resumed her pencil in the morning, that something had been added to the worksince she last touched it. This was noticed for some time, and quite excited her curiosity. The additions were evidently by a superior hand, far excelling her own in skill and workmanship. Her companions denied, each, and severally, all knowledge of the matter. She placed articles of furniture against her door in such a way that any one entering would be sure to awaken her. They were undisturbed, but still the mysterious additions continued to be made. At last, her companions concluded to watch without, and make sure that no one entered her apartment during the night, but still the work went on. At length it occurred to them to watch her movements, and now the mystery was explained. They saw her, evidently in sound sleep, rise, dress, take her place at the table, and commence her work. It was her own hand that, unconsciously to herself, had executed the work in a style which, in her waking moments, she could not approach, and which quite surpassed all competition. The picture, notwithstanding her protestations that it was not her painting, took the prize.
The Question.—How is it now, that in a state of sleep, with the eye, probably, fast closed, and the room in darkness, this girl can use the pencil in a manner so superior to any thing that she can do in the day time, with her eyes open, and in the full possession and employment of her senses and her will?
Several Things to be accounted for.—Here are, in fact, several things to be accounted for. How is it that the somnambulist rises and moves about in a state of apparently sound sleep? How is it that she performs actions requiring often a high degree of intelligence, and yet without apparent consciousness? How is it that she moves fearlessly and safely, as is often the case, over places where she could not stand for a moment, in her waking state, without the greatest danger? How is it that she can see without the eye, and perform actions in utter darkness, requiring the nicest attention, and the best vision, and notonly do them, but in such a manner as even to surpass what can be done by the same person in any other state, under the most favorable circumstances?
First, the Movement.—As to the first thing—the movement and locomotion in sleep—it may be accounted for in two ways. We may suppose it to be wholly automatic. This is the view of some eminent physiologists. The conscious soul, they say, has nothing to do with it, no knowledge of it. The will has nothing more to do with it, than it has with the contraction of a muscle, or irritation in an amputated limb.
Objection to this View.—For reasons intimated already, we cannot adopt the automatic theory. It seems to us subversive of all true science of the mind. The body is self-moved in obedience to the active energy of the nervous organism, and this organism again, acts only as it is acted upon by the mind that animates, pervades, and controls that organism. In the waking state, this mental action, and the consequent nervous and muscular activity, are under the control of the will. In sleep, this control is, for the time, suspended, and the thoughts come and go as it may chance, subject to no law but that of the associative principle. The mind, however, is still active, and the thoughts are busy in their own spontaneous movement. To this movement, the brain and nervous system respond. That the brain itself thinks, that the nerves and muscles act, and the limbs move automatically, without the energizing activity of the mind, is a supposition purely gratuitous, inconsistent with all the known facts and evident indications of the case, and at war with all just notions of the relation of body and mind.
Another Theory.—Another, and much more reasonable supposition is, that the will, which ordinarily in sleep loses control both over the mind and the body, in the state of somnambulism regains, in some way, and to some extent, its power over the latter, so that the body rises and moves about in accordance with the thought and feeling thathappen, at the moment, to be predominant in the mind. There is no control of the will over those thoughts and suggestions: they are spontaneous, undirected, casual, subject only to the ordinary laws of association; but for the time, whether owing to the greater vividness and force of these suggestions and impressions, or to the disturbed and partially aroused state of the sensorial organism, the will, acting in accordance with these suggestions of the mind, so far regains its power over the bodily organism, that locomotion ensues. The dream is then simply acted out. The body rises, the hand resumes the pen, and the appropriate movements and actions corresponding to the conceptions of the mind in its dream, are duly performed.
The second Point of Inquiry.—This virtually answers the second question, how the somnambulist can perform actions requiring intelligence, yet without apparent consciousness.
There is, doubtless, consciousness at the time—there must be; the thought and feeling of the moment are known to us at the moment. Not to be conscious of thought and feeling, is, not to think and feel. That the acts thus performed are not subsequently remembered, is no evidence that they were not objects of consciousness at the time of their occurrence. This is absence of memory, and not of consciousness.
Not remembered.—Why they are not subsequently remembered, we may, or may not, be able to explain. Not improbably, it may be owing to the partial inactivity of the senses, and the consequent failure to perceive the actual relations of the person to surrounding objects. But to whatever it may be owing, it does not prove that the mind is, for the time, unconscious of its own activity, for that is impossible.
Third Question.—As to the third question, how the somnambulist can safely move where the waking person cannot, as along the edge of precipices, and on the roofsof houses, the explanation is simple and easy. The eye is closed. The sense of touch is the only guide. Now the foot requires but a space of a few inches for its support, that, given it knows nothing further, asks nothing beyond. It is the eye that informs us at other times of the danger beyond, and so creates, in fact, the present danger. You walk safely on a two-inch plank one foot from the ground. The same effort of the muscles will enable you to walk the same plank one hundred feet from the ground, if you do not know the difference. This the somnambulist, with closed eye, and trusting to the sense of feeling alone, does not recognize.
A Question still to be answered.—But the most difficult question remains. How is it that the sleep-walker in utter darkness, reads, writes, paints, runs, etc., better even than others can do, or even than he himself can do at other times and with open eyes. How can he do these things without seeing? and how see in the dark and with the organs of vision fast locked in sleep. The facts are manifest. Not so ready the explanation. I can see how the body can move and with comparative safety, and even how the cerebral action may go on in sleep, without subsequent remembrance. But to read, to write, to paint, to run swiftly when pursued through a dark cellar, without coming in contact with surrounding objects, are operations requiring the nicest power of vision, and how there can be vision without the use of the proper organ of vision, is not to me apparent. It does not answer this question to say that the action is automatic. That would account for one's seeing, but notwithout eyes. The movement from place to place, according to the same theory, is also automatic; that accounts for a person's walking in sleep, but not for his walkingwithout legs. Nor does it solve the difficulty to say that in sleep the life of the soul is merged in that of the body; doubtless, but how can the body see without the eye, or the eye without light?
Theory of a general Sense.—The only theory that seems to offer even a plausible solution is that advanced by some German psychologists, and by Rauch in this country, of ageneral sense. The several special senses, they say, are all resolvable into one general sense as their source, viz., that of feeling. They refer us in illustration to the ear of the crab, to the eye of the fly and the snail, to the scent of flies, in which cases, respectively, we find noorganof hearing, or vision, or smell, but simply an expansion of the general nerve of sensation, or some filament from it, connecting with a somewhat thinner and more delicate membrane than the ordinary skin. This shows that our ordinary way of perceiving things is not the only way; that special organs of vision, etc., are not needed in order to all perception, much less to sensation. It has been found by experiment that bats, after their eyes have been entirely removed, will fly about as before, and avoid all obstacles just as before. In these cases, it is contended, perception is merelyfeeling heightened, the exercise of the general sense into which the special senses are severally merged. And this, it is said, may be the case with the somnambulist.
Remarks on this Theory.—There is doubtless truth in the general statement now advanced. I do not see, however, that it accounts for all that requires explanation in the case. It explains, perhaps, how, without the organ of vision, a certain dim, confused perception of objects might be furnished by the general sense, but not for aclearervision and aniceroperation than the waking eye can give. This, to me, remains yet unexplained. Is there an inner consciousness, a hidden soul-life not dependent on the bodily organization, which at times comes forth into development and manifests itself when the usual relations of body and soul are disturbed and suspended? So some have supposed, and so it may be for aught we know to the contrary, but this is only to solve one mystery by supposing another yet greater.
Must admit what.—Whatever theory we adopt, or even if we adopt none, we must admit, I think, in view of the facts in the case, that in certain disordered and highly excited states of the nervous system, as,e. g., when weakened by disease, so that ordinary causes affect it more powerfully than usual,it can, and does sometimes, perceive what, under ordinary circumstances, is not perceptible to the eye, or to the ear; nay, even dispenses with the use of eye and ear, and the several organs of special sense. This occurs, as we have seen, in somnambulism, or natural magnetic sleep. We meet with the same thing also in even stranger forms, in the mesmeric state, and in some species of insanity.
The mental Process obvious.—So far as regards the purely mental part of the phenomena, the operations of the mind in somnambulism, there is nothing which is not easily explained. In somnambulism, as indeed in all these states so closely connected—sleep, dreams, the mesmeric process, and even insanity—the will loses its controlling power over the train of thought, and, consequently, the thought or feeling that happens to be dominant gives rise to, and entirely shapes, the actions that may in that state be performed. This dominant thought or feeling, in the case of the somnambulist, is, for the most part, probably, the result of previous causes; a continuation of the former mental action, which, when the influence of the will is suspended and the senses closed, by a sort of inherent activity keeps on in the same channel as before. Of such action, the soul is itself probably conscious at the moment, but afterward no recollection of it lingers in the mind.
§ IV.—Disordered Mental Action.
Relation to other mental Phenomena.—Closely allied to somnambulism, dreaming, etc., are certain forms of disordered mental condition commonly termed insanity; having this one element in common with the former, the lossor suspension of all voluntary control over the train of thought. This must be regarded as the characteristic feature and essential ground-work of the various phenomena in all these various states.
Classification.—The forms of disordered mental action are various, and admit of some classification. Some are transient, others permanent, arising from some settled disorder of the intellect, or the sensibilities.
I.Transient Forms.—Of these, some are artificially produced, as by exciting drugs, stimulants, intoxicating drinks, etc., others by physical and natural causes, as disease, etc.
Delirium, artificial.—The most common of these forms of disordered mental action is that transient and artificial state produced by intoxicating drugs and drinks. This is properly called delirium, and takes place whenever total or even partial inebriation occurs, whether from alcoholic or narcotic stimulants, as the opium of the Chinese, and the Indian hemp orhachishof the Hindoos. The same effects, substantially, are produced, also, by certain plants, as the deadly night-shade and others, and also by aconite. In all these cases the effect is wrought primarily, it would seem, upon the blood, which is brought into a poisonous state, and thus deranges the action of the nerves and the brain. Thehachishor Indian hemp, which, in the East, is used for purposes of intoxication more generally, perhaps, than even opium, or alcoholic drinks, may serve as an illustration of the manner in which these various stimulants affect the senses. At first the subject perceives an increased activity of mind; thoughts come and go in swift succession and pleasing variety; the imagination is active—memory, fancy, reason, all awake. Gradually this mental activity increases andfrees itself from voluntary control; attention to any special subject becomes difficult or even impossible; ideas, strange and wonderful, come and go at random with no apparent cause and by no known law of suggestion; these absorb the attention until the mind is at last given up to them, andthere is no further consciousness of the external things, while, at the same time, the patient is susceptible, as in the magnetic state, of influence and impression from without. How closely, in many respects, this resembles the state of the mind in somnambulism, mesmerism, and ordinary dreaming, I need not point out. The mental excitement produced by opium is perhaps greater, and the images that throng the brain, and assume the semblance of reality, are more numerous and real. The subsequent exhaustion and reaction in either case are fearful. For illustration of this the reader is referred to the Confessions of an Opium Eater, by the accomplished De Quincey.
Delirium of Disease.—The ordinarydelirium of diseaseis essentially of the same nature with that now described, differing rather in its origin, or producing cause, than in its effects. It comes on often in much the same way; increased mental activity shows itself; attention is fixed with difficulty; strange images, and trains of thought at once singular and uncontrolled by the will, come and go; the mind at last is possessed by them and loses all control over its own movements. Every thing now, which the mind conceives, assumes the form of reality. It has no longer conceptions but perceptions. Figures move along the walls and occupy the room. They are as reallyseen, that is, thesensationis the same, as in any case of healthy and actual vision; only the effect is wrought from within outward, from the sensorium to the optic nerve and retina, instead of the reverse, as in actual vision. Voices are heard also, and various sounds, in the same manner; the producing cause acting from within outward, and not from without inward.
Differs from Dreaming.—This state differs from dreaming in that the subject is not necessarily asleep, and that it involves a greater and more serious disorder of the faculties, as well as of longer continuance. The illusions are perhaps also more decided, and more vividly conceived as external and real entities. Like dreams, and unlike the conceptionsof the magnetic state, these ideas and illusions may be subsequently recalled, and in many cases are so; the mind, however, finding it difficult still to believe that they werefictions, and not actual occurrences.
In dreaming, the things which we seem to see and hear are changes produced in the sensorium by cerebral or other influences. In delirium, the sensorium itself is disordered and produces false appearances, spectres, etc.
Mania.—That form of disordered mental action termedmania, differs from that already described in that, along with the derangement of the intellect, there is more or less emotional disorder. The patient is strongly excited on any thing that at all rouses the feelings. There may be much or little intellectual derangement accompanying this excitement. The two forms, in fact, pass into each by a succession of almost indefinable links. The main element is the same in each,i. e., loss of voluntary control over the thoughts and feelings. Each is produced by physical causes, and is of transient duration.
Power of Suggestion.—In all these forms of delirium now described, whether artificial or natural, the mind is open to suggestions from without, and these become often controlling ideas. Hence it is of imperative necessity that the attendant should be on his guard as to what he says or does in the presence of the patient. An instance in point is related by Dr. Carpenter, in which a certain eminent physician lost a number of his patients in fever by their jumping from the window, a fact accounted for at once, when we come to hear that he was stupid enough to caution the attendants,in the hearing of his patients, against the possibility of such an event.
II.Permanent Forms.—I proceed next to notice those more permanent forms of mental disorder, commonly termedinsanity, a term properly applied to designate those cases of abnormal mental activity in which there seems to be either some settled disorder of the intellect, as,e. g., when thebrain has been weakened by successive attacks of mania, epilepsy, etc., or else some permanent tendency to disordered emotional excitement.
Disorder of the Intellect.—Where the intellectual faculties are disordered, the chief elementary feature of the case is the same as in those already noticed, viz.,Loss of voluntary control over the mental operations—the psychological ground-work, as we have seen, of all the various forms of abnormal mental action which have as yet come under our notice.
Memory affected.—In the cases now under consideration, the memory is the faculty that in most cases gives the first signs of failure, particularly that form of memory which is strictly voluntary, viz., recollection. In consequence of this, past experience is placed out of reach, cannot be made available, and therefore reasoning and judgment are deficient. The thoughts lose their coherency and connection, as they are thus cut loose from the fixtures of the past, to which the laws of association no longer bind them; they come and go with a strange automatic sort of movement, over which the mind feels that it has little power. Gradually this little fades away; the will no longer exercises its former and rightful control over the mental activities; its sway is broken, its authority gone; the mind loses control of itself, and, like a vessel broken from her moorings, swings sadly and hopelessly away into the swift stream of settled insanity. The mind still retains its full measure of activity, perhaps greatly increased; but it acts as in adream. All its conceptions are realities to it, and the actually real world, as it mingles with the dream and shapes it, is but vaguely and imperfectly apprehended through the confused media of the mind's own conceptions. All this may be, and often is, realized, where there is entire absence of all emotional excitement.
Not easily cured.—The condition now described is much less open to medical treatment than the mental statespreviously mentioned. Indeed, where there is insanity resulting from settled cerebral disorder, there is very little hope of cure. Nature may in time recover herself; she may not. This depends on age, constitution, predisposing causes, and a variety of circumstances not altogether under human control.
Disordered Action of the Sensibilities.—Another form of insanity is that which consists in, or arises from, not any primary disorder of the intellectual faculties, but a tendency to disorderedemotionalexcitement. Sometimes this is general, extending to all the emotions. These cases require careful treatment. The patient is like a child, and must be governed mildly and wisely, is open to argument and motives of self-control. In other cases, some one emotion is particularly the seat and centre of the disturbance, while the others are comparatively tranquil. In such cases the exaggerated emotion may prompt to some specific action, as suicide, or murder, etc. This is termedimpulsiveinsanity. The predominant idea or impulse tyrannizes over the mind, and, by a sort of irresistible fatality, drives it on to the commission of crime. The patient may be conscious of this impulse, and revolt from it with horror; there may be no pleasure or desire associated with the deed, but he is unable to resist. He is like a boat in the rapids of Niagara. So fearful the condition of man when reason is dethroned, and the will no longer master.
NATURE, DIFFICULTY, AND IMPORTANCE OF THIS DEPARTMENT OF THE SCIENCE.
Previous Analysis.—In entering upon the investigation of a new department of our science, it may be well to recur, for a moment, to the analysis and classification of the powers of the mind which has been already given in the introduction to the present volume. The faculties of the mind were divided in that analysis, it will be remembered, into three grand departments, the Intellect, the Sensibilities, and the Will; the first comprising the various powers ofthinkingandknowing, the second offeeling, the third ofwilling. The first of these main divisions has been already discussed in the preceding pages. Upon the second we now enter.
Difference of the two Departments.—This department of mental activity differs from the former, as feeling differs from thinking. The distinction is broad and obvious. No one can mistake it who knows any thing of his own mental operations. Every one knows the difference, though not every one may be able to explain it, or tell precisely in what it consists. But whether able to define our meaning or not, we are perfectly conscious that to think and to feel are different acts, and involve entirely different states of mind.The common language of life recognizes the distinction, alike that of the educated and of the uneducated, the peasant and the man of science. The literature of the world recognizes it.
Relation of the two.—As regards the relation of the two departments to each other, the intellect properly precedes the sensibility. The latter implies the former, and depends upon it. There can be no feeling—I speak, of course, of mental feeling, and not of mere physical sensation—without previous cognizance of some object, in view of which the feeling is awakened. Affection always implies an object of affection, desire, an object of desire; and the object is first apprehended by the intellect before the emotion is awakened in the mind. When we love, we love something, when we desire, we desire something, when we fear, or hope, or hate, there is always some object, more or less clearly defined, that awakens these feelings, and in proportion to the clearness and vividness of the intellectual conception or perception of the object, will be the strength of the feeling.
Strength of Feelings as related to Strength of Intellect.—The range and power of the sensibilities, then, in other words, the mind's capacity of feeling, depends essentially upon the range and vigor of the intellectual powers. Within certain limits, the one varies as the other. The man of strong and vigorous mind is capable of stronger emotion than the man of dwarfed and puny intellect. Milton, Cromwell, Napoleon, Webster, surpassed other men, not more in clearness and strength of intellectual perception, than in energy of feeling. In this, indeed, lay, in no small degree, the secret of their superior power. In the most eloquent passages of the great orators of ancient or modern times, it is not so much the irresistible cogency and unrelenting grasp of the terrible logic, that holds our attention, and casts its spell over us, as it is the burning indignation that exposes the sophistries, and tears to shreds the fallacies of an opponent, and sweeps all argument and all opposition before itlike a devouring fire. The orations of Demosthenes, of Burke, of Webster, furnish numerous examples of this.
Influence of the Feelings on the Intellect.—On the other hand, it is equally true that the state of the intellect in any case depends not a little on the nature and strength of the mind's capacities of feeling. A quick and lively sensibility is more likely to be attended with quickness and strength of intellectual conception; imagination, perception, fancy, and even reasoning, are quickened, and set in active play, by its electric touch.
A man with sluggish and torpid sensibilities, is almost of necessity a man of dull and sluggish intellect. A man without feeling, if we can conceive so strange a phenomenon, would be a man, the measure of whose intellectual capacity would be little above that of the brutes.
Importance of this Department of the mental Faculties.—Such being the nature of the sensibilities, theimportanceof this department of mental activity becomes obvious at a glance. The springs of human action lie here. We find here a clue to the study of human nature and of ourselves. To understand the complicated and curious problem of human life and action, to understand history, society, nations, ourselves, we must understand well the nature and philosophy of the sensibilities. Here we find the motives which set the busy world in action, the causes which go to make men what they are in the busy and ever changing scene of life's great drama. It is the emotions and passions of men which give, at once, the impulse, and the direction, to their energies, constitute their character, shape their history and their destiny. A knowledge of man and of the world is emphatically a knowledge of the human heart.
Extract from Brown.—The importance of this part of our nature is well set forth in the following passage from Dr. Thomas Brown:
"We might, perhaps, have been so constituted, with respect to our intellectual states of mind, as to have had all thevarieties of these, our remembrances, judgments, and creations of fancy, without our emotions. But without the emotions which accompany them, of how little value would the mere intellectual functions have been! It is to our vivid feelings of this class we must look for those tender regards which make our remembrances sacred, for that love of truth and glory, and mankind, without which to animate and reward us in our discovery and diffusion of knowledge, the continued exercise of judgment would be a fatigue rather than a satisfaction, and for all that delightful wonder which we feel when we contemplate the admirable creations of fancy, or the still more admirable beauties of the unfading model, that model which is ever before us, and the imitation of which, as has been truly said, is the onlyimitationthat is itselforiginality. By our other mental functions, we are mere spectators of the machinery of the universe, living and inanimate; by ouremotions, we are admirers of nature, lovers of man, adorers of God....
Less attractive Aspects.—"In this picture of our emotions, however, I have presented them in their fairest aspects; there are aspects which they assume, as terrible as these are attractive; but even terrible as they are, they are not the less interesting objects of our contemplation. They are the enemies with which our mortal combat, in the warfare of life, is to be carried on; and of these enemies that are to assail us, it is good for us to know all the arms and all the arts with which we are to be assailed; as it is good for us to know all the misery which would await our defeat, as well as all the happiness which would crown our success, that our conflict may be the stronger, and our victory, therefore, the more sure.
"In the list of our emotions of this formidable class, is to be found every passion which can render life guilty and miserable; a single hour of which, if that hour be an hour of uncontrolled dominion, may destroy happiness forever, and leave little more of virtue than is necessary for givingall its horror to remorse. There are feelings as blasting to every desire of good that may still linger in the heart of the frail victim who is not yet wholly corrupted, as those poisonous gales of the desert, which not merely lift in whirlwinds the sands that have often been tossed before, but wither even the few fresh leaves, which on some spot of scanty verdure, have still been flourishing amid the general sterility."
Difficulty of the Study.—With regard to the difficulty attending the study of this part of our nature, a word seems necessary in passing. It has been supposed to constitute a peculiar difficulty in the way of the successful investigation of this department of mental activity, that the sensibilities are, in their very nature, of such an exciting character, as to preclude the calm, dispassionate observation and reflection so necessary to correct judgment. At the moment of exercising any lively emotion, as hope, fear, anger, etc., the mind is in too great perturbation to be in any condition for accurate self-observation, and when the excitement has subsided, the important moment has already passed. Mr. Stewart has particularly noticed this difficulty in his Introduction to the Active and Moral Powers, and quotes Hume to the same effect.
Not peculiar to this Department of the Science.—The difficulty in question, however, is one which, in reality, pertains to all mental science, and not to this department of it alone; and so Hume, in the passage cited by Mr. Stewart, seems to intend. It is true that while we are under the influence of any exciting emotion, we are in no mood, and in no suitable state to observe, with critical eye, the workings of our own minds; neither are we in any condition to do so when engaged in the less exciting, but not less absorbingintellectualoccupation of reasoning, or imagining, or remembering. The moment we begin to observe ourselves as thus engaged, the mind is no longer employed as before, the experiment which we wish to observe is interrupted, and instead of reasoning, imagining, or remembering, we are only observing ourselves. Our only resource, in either case, is to turn back and gather up, as well as we can frommemory, the data of our mental activity and condition while thus and thus employed. And this we can do with regard to the action of the sensibilities, as well as of the intellect, provided only the degree of emotion and excitement is not so great as to interfere with the present consciousness, and so with the subsequent recollection of what was passing in our own minds.
Sources of Information.—Nor are we dependent entirely on self-observation. Our sources of information are twofold, the observation of our own minds, and of others. From the latter source we may learn much of the nature of this department of mental action. The sensibilities of others are more open to our inspection, and less readily mistaken, than their intellectual states. Nor do we meet, in this case, with the same difficulty; for however excited and incapable of self-inspection, at the moment, the subject of any strong emotion or passion may be, the spectator, at least, is able to observe the effect of that passion, and note its phenomena, with calm and careful eye.
ANALYSIS AND CLASSIFICATION OF THE SENSIBILITIES.
Certain Distinctions may be noticed.—Including, under the term sensibility, according to the definition already given, whatever is of the nature offeeling, in distinction from thought or cognition, and limiting the term also to feelings strictlymental, in distinction from merely physical sensation, it is obvious that there are certain leading distinctions still to be observed in this class of our mental states, certain great and strongly marked divisions or differences,by which we shall do well to be guided in our arrangement and classification of them. Our feelings are many and various; it is impossible to enumerate or classify them with perfect precision; yet there are certain points of resemblance and difference among them, certain groups or classes into which they naturally divide themselves.
A general Distinction indicated.—One general distinction lies at the outset, patent and obvious, running through all forms and modes of sensibility, namely, the difference ofagreeableanddisagreeable. Every feeling is, in its very nature, and of necessity, one or the other, either pleasing or painful. In some cases the distinction is much more strongly marked than in others; sometimes it may be hardly perceptible, and it may be difficult to determine, so slight is the degree of either, whether the feeling under consideration partakes of the character of pleasure or pain; sometimes there is a blending of the two elements, and the same emotion is at once pleasing and painful to the mind that experiences it. But I cannot conceive of a feeling that is neither agreeable or disagreeable, but positively indifferent. The state of indifference is not an exercise of sensibility, but a simplewantof it, as the very name denotes by which we most appropriately express this state of mind,i. e.,apathy(α παθος).
Simple Emotions.—Passing this general and obvious distinction, we find among our sensibilities a large class which we may denominatesimple emotions. These comprise the joys and sorrows of life in all their varieties of modification and degree, according as the objects which awaken them differ. Under this class fall those general states of the mind which, without assuming a definite and obvious form, impart a tinge and coloring of joyousness or sadness to all our activity. Under this class, also, must be included the more specific forms of feeling, such as the grief or sorrow we feel at the loss of friends, sympathy with the happiness or sorrow of others, the enjoyment arising from the contemplation orpersuasion of our own superiority, and the chagrin of the reverse, the enjoyment of the ludicrous, of the new and wonderful, of the beautiful, to which must be added the satisfaction resulting from the consciousness of right action, and those vivid feelings of regret in view of the wrong, which, in their higher degree, assume the name of remorse, and fall like a chill and fearful shadow over the troubled path of earthly life. These all are simple emotions, and all, moreover, are but so many forms of joy and sorrow, varying as the objects vary which give rise to them.
Further Difference of instinctive and rational Emotion.—It will be observed, however, that of these several specific forms of simple emotion, some are of a higher order than the others. Such are those last named in the series, the feelings awakened in view of the ludicrous, in view of the new and wonderful, in view of the beautiful, and in view of the right, or, in general, the æsthetic and moral emotions. These, as seeming to possess a higher dignity, and to involve a higher degree of intellectual development, we may denominate therational, in distinction from the other simple emotions, which, to mark the difference, we may terminstinctive.
Emotions of a complex Character.—Passing on in our analysis, we come next to a class of emotions differing from that already considered, in being of a complex character. It is no longer a simple feeling of delight and satisfaction in the object, or the reverse, but along with this is blended the wish, more or less definite and intense, of good or ill, to the object which awakens the emotion. The feeling assumes an active form, becomes objective, and travels out from itself and the bosom that cherishes it, to the object which calls it forth. In this desire of good or ill to the object, the simple element of joy or sorrow, the subjective feeling, is often merged and lost sight of; yet it ever exists as an essential element of the complex emotion.
Further Subdivision of this Class.—Of this class are the feelings usually denominatedaffections, which may be further subdivided intobenevolentandmalevolent, according as they seek the good or the ill of their respective objects. As thesimple emotionsare all but so many modes and forms of the feeling ofjoy, and its opposite,sorrow, so theaffectionsare but so many different modifications of the one comprehensive principle oflove, and its opposite,hate.
Various Objects of Affection.—The affections vary as the objects vary on which they rest. Of the benevolent class, the more prominent are, love of kindred, of friends, of benefactors, of home and country. Of the malevolent affections, so called, the more important are the feeling of resentment in view of personal injury, of indignation at the wrongs of others, the feeling of jealousy, and the like.
The Passions.—These various affections, both malevolent and benevolent, when they rise above the ordinary degree, and become impatient of restraint, imperious, no longer under the control of reason and sober reflection, but themselves assuming the command of the whole man, and impelling him toward the desired end, regardless of other and higher interests, become thepassionsof our nature, with which no small part of the self-conflict and self-discipline of this our mortal life is to be maintained.
The Desires.—There is still another class of emotions, differing essentially in their nature from each of the two leading divisions already mentioned, that is, ourdesires. These are of two sorts. Those which are founded in the physical nature and constitution of man—as the desire of food, of muscular exertion, of repose, of whatever is adapted to the animal nature and wants—are usually denominatedappetites: those, on the other hand, which take their rise from the nature and wants of the mind, rather than of the body, may be termedrational, in distinction fromanimaldesires or appetites. Of these the moreimportant are the desire of happiness, of knowledge, of power, of society, of the esteem of others.
As joy has its opposite, sorrow, and love its opposite, hate, so also desire has its opposite, aversion; and the objects of aversion are as numerous as the objects of desire. The desire of wealth has its counterpart, the aversion to poverty and want; the desire of life and happiness stands over against the aversion to suffering and death. The two are so to speak, the positive and negative poles of feeling.
Hope and Fear.—There is yet another and important class of our emotions, having not a little to do with the happiness or misery of life, casting its lights and shadows over no small part of our little path from the cradle to the grave, ourhopesand ourfears. These, however important in themselves, are, nevertheless, but modifications of the principles of desire and aversion, and are, therefore, to be referred to the same general division of the sensibilities. Hope is the desire of some expected good, fear the aversion to some anticipated evil.
Summary of Classes.—To the three comprehensive classes now named,Simple Emotions,Affections, andDesiresmay be referred, if I mistake not, the various sensibilities of our nature; or, if the analysis and classification be not complete and exhaustive, it is at least sufficiently minute for our present purpose.
Historical Sketch of the leading Divisions of the Sensibilities adopted by different Writers.
Important to know the Principles of Division adopted by others.—The discussion of the present topic would be incomplete without a glance at thehistoryof the same. It is of service, having obtained some definite results and conclusions of our own, to know also what have been the views and conclusions of others upon the same matter. As withregard to the intellectual powers, so also with respect to the sensibilities, different principles of division and classification have been adopted by different writers. Our limits will allow us to glance only at the more important of these.
General Principles of Classification.—Of those who have written upon the sensibilities, some have placed them in contrast to each other, as hope and fear, love and hate, etc., making this the principle of division; others have classed them as personal, social, etc.; others as relating to time, the past, the present, and the future; others as instinctive and rational; while most who have had occasion to treat of this part of our mental constitution, have considered it with reference solely or mainly to the science of ethics or morals, and have adopted such a division and arrangement as best suited that end, without special regard to the psychology of the matter.
Of the Greek Schools.—Among the Greeks, the Academicians included the various emotions under the four principal ones, fear, desire, joy, and grief, classing despair and aversion under grief, while hope, courage, and anger were comprised under desire.
To denote thepassivityof the mind, as acted upon, and under the influence of emotion, the Greeks named the passions in general, παθος, suffering, whence our terms pathos, pathetic, etc., whence also the Latinpassioandpatior, from which our wordpassion. The Stoics, in particular, designated all emotions as παθη, diseases, regarding them as disorders of the mind.
Hartley's Division.—Among the moderns,Hartleydivides the sensibilities into the two leading classes ofgratefulandungratefulones; under the former, including love, desire, hope, joy, and pleasing recollection; under the latter, the opposites of these emotions, hatred, aversion, fear, grief displeasing recollection.
Distinction of primitive and derivative.—Certain other English writers, asWattsandGrove, derive all the emotionsultimately from the three principal ones, admiration, love, and hatred, which they term theprimitivepassions, all others beingderivative.
Division of Cogan.—Cogan, whose treatise on the passions is a work of much interest, divides the sensibilities intopassions,emotions, andaffections; by the first of these terms designating the first impression which the mind receives from some impulsive cause; by the second, the more permanent feeling which succeeds, and which betrays itself by visible signs in the expressions of the countenance and the motions of the body; while by affections, he denotes the less intense and more durable influence exerted upon the mind by the objects of its regard. The passions and affections are, by this author, further divided into those which spring fromself-loveand those which are derived from thesocial principle.
Classification of Dr. Reid.—Dr. Reiddivides the active principles, as he terms them, into three classes, themechanical, theanimal, and therational, including, under the first, our instincts and habits, under the second, our appetites, under the third, our higher principles of action.
Of Stewart.—Dugald Stewartmakes two classes, theinstinctiveorimplanted, and therationalorgoverningprinciples, under the former includingappetites,desires, andaffections, under the latter,self-loveand themoral faculty. The desires are distinguished from the appetites, in that they do not, like the former, take their rise from the body, nor do they operate, periodically, after certain intervals, and cease after the attainment of their object. Under the title of affections, are comprehended all those principles of our nature that have for their object the communication of good or of ill to others.
Of Brown.—Dr. Browndivides the sensibilities, to which he gives the general name ofemotions, with reference to their relation totime, asimmediate,retrospective, andprospective. Under the former, he includes, as involving nomoral feeling, cheerfulness and melancholy, wonder and its opposite, feelings of beauty and the opposite, feelings of sublimity and of the ludicrous; as involving moral feeling, the emotions distinctive of vice and virtue, emotions of love and hate, of sympathy, of pride and humility. Underretrospectiveemotion he includes anger, gratitude, regret, satisfaction; underprospectiveemotion, all our desires and fears.
Of Upham.—Prof. Upham divides the sensibilities into the two leading departments, thenaturaland themoral, the former comprehending theemotionsand thedesires, the latter, themoral sentimentsorconscience. Under the class of desires, he includes our instincts, appetites, propensities, and affections.
Of Hickok.—Dr. Hickok classes the sensibilities under the departments ofanimal,rational, andspiritualsusceptibility; the former comprehending instincts, appetites, natural affections, self-interested feelings, and disinterested feelings; the second, æsthetic, scientific, ethic, and theistic emotions; while the latter or spiritual susceptibility differs from each of the others, in not being, like them, constitutional, but arising rather from the personal disposition and character.
Remarks on the foregoing Divisions.—Our limits forbid, nor does the object of the present work require, a critical discussion of these several plans of arrangement.
It is but justice to say, however, that no one of these several methods of arrangement is altogether satisfactory. They are not strictly scientific. The method of Cogan, for example, derives all our sensibilities ultimately from the two principles of self-love, or desire for our own happiness, and the social principle, or regard for the condition and character of others; which again resolve themselves, according to this author, into the two cardinal and primitive affections ofloveandhate. This division strikes us at once as arbitrary, and, therefore, questionable; and, also, asethicalrather thanpsychological. There are many simple emotions whichcannot properly be resolved into either of these two principles. On the other hand, the psychological distinction between the emotions and desires is overlooked in this arrangement. The same remarks apply substantially to several of the other methods noticed.
Objection to Stewart's Division.—The arrangement of Mr. Stewart is liable to this objection, that the principle of self-love, and also the moral faculty, which he classes by themselves asrationalprinciples, in distinction from the other emotions asimplantedorinstinctiveprinciples, are as really implanted in our nature, as really constitutional or instinctive, as any other. Appetite, moreover, is but one form or class of desires; self-love is but another,i. e., the desire of our own happiness.
To Upham's Division.—The division of Mr. Upham is still more objectionable on the same ground. Thenaturaland themoralsentiments, into which two great classes he divides the sensibilities, are distinct neither in fact nor in name; the moral sentiments, so called, are as really and trulynatural, founded in our constitution, as are our desires and affections; nor is the term natural properly opposed to the term moral as designating distinct and opposite things. The terms instinctive and rational, which Mr. Stewart employs, though not free from objection, much more accurately express the distinction in view, could such a distinction be shown to exist.
Difference of ethical and psychological Inquiry.—In a work, the main object of which is to unfold the principles of ethical science, it may be desirable to single out from the other emotions, and place by themselves, the principle of self-love, together with the social principle and the moral sentiments, as having more direct reference to the moral character and conduct. In a strictly psychological treatise, however, in which the aim is simply to unfold, and arrange in their natural order, the phenomena of the human mind, such a principle of classification is evidently inadmissible. Thedifferent operations and emotions of the mind must be studied and arranged, not with reference to theirlogicalorethicaldistinctions, but solely theirpsychologicaldifferences. Viewed in this light, the moral sentiments, so far as they are of the nature of feeling or sensibility at all, and not rather of intellectual perception, are simple emotions, and do not inherently differ from any other feelings of the same class. The satisfaction we feel in view of right, and the pain in view of wrong past conduct, differ from the pain and pleasure we derive from other sources, only as theobjectsdiffer which call forth the feelings. They are essentially of the same class, the difference is specific rather than generic. They are modifications of the one generic principle of joy and sorrow, and differ from each other not so much as each differs from adesire, or an affection of love or hate.
Objection to Brown's Arrangement.—The classification of Dr. Brown, if not ethical, is, perhaps, equally far from being psychological. The relation of the different emotions totimeis an accidental, and not an essential difference, and it is, moreover, a distinction wholly inapplicable to far the larger portion of the sensibilities, viz., those which he calls immediate emotions, or "those which arise without involving necessarilyany notionof time." This is surelylucus a non lucendo.