Reason, or Common Sense.
Of the thoughts which continually pass through the mind, we find that some are attended with a feeling of the real existence of the objects of our thoughts, and others are not so attended. For example, we may think of a man with a certain form carrying a dagger and going to commit murder, and with this, a feeling that no such thing is really existing. Again, we may have this same idea attended with the conviction that it is a reality.
This feeling of the reality of the objects of our thoughts is called belief, or faith.
Our minds are so made, that we necessarily believe not only that things are really existing at the present time, but that things will occur that are not now in existence. For example, we believe the sun will rise to-morrow morning in another place nearer toward the north or south than it did the present morning. We believe the tide will rise higher or lower on a coming day than it did the present day. And thus multitudes of events are believed to be in the future.
Those things which really do or will exist, in distinction from those we may think of but which do not and will not exist, are called truths, or realities.
All our comfort and happiness depend on our believing the truth, meaning by truth the reality of things. [pg 058] To believe that things exist when they do not, or that things are not existing when they are, involves certain pain, disappointment and mistake.
Our great safeguard from this is that part of our mental organization called reason, or common sense. This, as has been shown, consists in the necessary belief of certain truths by all men.
The test by which these truths are identified and distinguished from all other knowledge, is the fact that usually all men talk and act as if they believed them, and that when they fail to do so, they are regarded as having “lost their reason.”
The truths thus necessarily believed are the foundation of the process called reasoning, which is a mode of establishing other truths by the aid of those already believed.
These principles of reason or common sense are often called by other names, such as intuitions, intuitive truths, first principles, etc.
Thus all the powers of mind are arranged in the four general classes, viz., the intellect, the susceptibilities, the will, and reason or common sense.
In regard to the power of mind called reason, what is claimed here is, not that either the common people or metaphysicians have usually thus clearly set forth what is here so described and named; but that all men, learned and unlearned, allow that there are truths which are necessarily believed by all mankind; that these are the foundation of all reasoning, and that they often are called reason. So when any one is found to lack a belief in certain of these intuitive truths, he is said to have “lost his reason.” And when any act or assertion is seen to contradict any [pg 059] of these truths, it is said to be “contrary to reason.”
Therefore it is proper to put the belief in these implanted truths as a distinct power of the mind, and to call it “the reason.” And as the belief of these truths is common to all men, it is also proper to call it common sense.
Chapter XIII. Nature of Mind.—Regulation of the Thoughts.
A system of natural religion includes not only the existence and natural attributes of the Creator, but his moral character and the duties owed to Him, to our fellow-beings and to ourselves.
To discover these by the principles of common sense, unaided by revelation, we must again turn to our own minds as our only directory. This demands a more enlarged consideration of many of the specific powers and operations of mind, as developed by experience and observation.
Mode of regulating our thoughts.
The mode by which the succession of our thoughts is regulated is intimately connected with several subjects to be discussed, and will, therefore, first receive attention.
It will be found that our sensations and perceptions vary in vividness and distinctness according to the strength and permanency of certain feelings of desire which coexist with them. For example, we are continually [pg 060] hearing a multitude of sounds, but in respect to many of them, as we feel no desire to know the cause or nature of them, these sensations are so feeble and indistinct as scarcely ever to be recalled to the mind or recognized by any act of memory; but should we hear some strange wailing sound, immediately the desire would arise to ascertain its nature and cause. It would immediately become an object of distinct and vivid perception, and continue so as long as the desire lasted.
While one sensation becomes thus clear and prominent, it will be found that other sensations which were coexisting with it will become feebler and seem to die away. The same impressions may still be made upon the eye as before, the same sounds that had previously been regarded may still strike upon the ear, but while the desire to learn the cause of that strange wailing sound continues, the other sensations will all be faint and indistinct. When this desire is gratified, then other sensations resume their former distinctness and prominency.
Our conceptions, in like manner, are affected by the coexistence of emotion or desire. If, for example, we are employing ourselves in study or mental speculations, the vividness of our conceptions will vary in exact proportion to the interest we feel in securing the object about which our conceptions are employed. If we feel but little interest in the subject of our speculations, every conception connected with them will be undefined and indistinct; but if the desire of approbation, or the admonitions of conscience, or the hope of securing some future good stimulate desire, immediately our conceptions grow more vivid and [pg 061] clear, and the object at which we aim is more readily and speedily secured.
The mind is continually under the influence of some desire. It constantly has some plan to accomplish, some cause to search out, or some gratification to secure. The present wish or desire of the mind imparts an interest to whatever conception seems calculated to forward this object. Thus, if the mathematician has a problem to solve, and this is the leading desire of the mind, among the various conceptions that arise, those are the most interesting which are fitted to his object, and such immediately become vivid and distinct. If the painter or the poet is laboring to effect some new creation of his art, and has this as the leading object of desire, whatever conceptions seem best fitted to his purpose are immediately invested with interest, and become distinct and clear. If the merchant, or the capitalist, or the statesman has some project which he is toiling to accomplish, whatever conceptions appear adapted to his purpose soon are glowing and defined, in consequence of the interest with which desire thus invests them.
From this it appears that the chief end, or leading object of desire of the mind, will in a great measure determine the nature and the succession of its conceptions. If a man has chosen to find his chief happiness in securing power and honor, then those conceptions will be the most interesting to his mind that best fall in with his object. If he has chosen to find happiness in securing the various gratifications of sense, then those conceptions that most coincide with this desire will become prominent. If a man has chosen to find his chief enjoyment in doing the will [pg 062] of God, then his conceptions will, to a great extent, be conformed to this object of desire. The current of a man's thoughts, therefore, becomes the surest mode of determining what is the governing purpose or leading desire of the mind.
But there are seasons in our mental history when the mind does not seem to be under the influence of any governing desire; when it seems to relax, and its thoughts appear to flow on without any regulating principle. At such times the vividness of leading conceptions, which otherwise is determined by desire, seems to depend upon our past experience. Those objects which, in past experience, have been associated with emotion, are those which thus begin to glow in the distinct lineaments with which emotion at first invested them.
In past experience, all conceptions which were attended with emotion were most distinct and clear, and therefore, when such conceptions return united with others, they are the ones which are most interesting, and thus most vivid and distinct. Thus, in our musing hours of idle reverie, as one picture after another glides before the mind, if some object occurs, such as the home of our youth, or the friend of our early days, the emotions which have been so often united with these objects in past experience cause them to appear in clear and glowing lineaments, and the stronger have been the past emotions connected with them, the more clearly will they be defined. It appears, then, that there are two circumstances that account for the apparent selection which the mind makes in its objects of conception. The first is the feeling that certain conceptions are fitted to accomplish the leading desire of the [pg 063]mind; and the second is, that certain objects in past experience have been attended with emotion.
But there is another phenomenon in our mental history which has a direct bearing on the nature and succession of our conceptions. When any conception, through the influence of desire or emotion, becomes the prominent object, immediately other objects with which this has been associated in past experience begin to return and gather around it in new combinations. Thus a new picture is presented before the mind, from which it again selects an object according as desire or emotion regulates, which, under this influence, grows vivid and distinct. Around this new object immediately begin to cluster its past associates, till still another scene is fresh arrayed before the mind.
In these new combinations, those objects which are least interesting continually disappear, while those most interesting are retained to form a part of the succeeding picture. Thus, in every mental picture, desire or emotion seems to call forth objects which start out, as it were, in bold relief from all others, and call from the shade of obscurity the companions of their former existence, which gather around them in new and varied combinations.
Thus it is shown that the chief mode by which we regulate the nature and succession of our thoughts is by the choices we make of our objects of pursuit. Whatever we choose as our chief end, or leading object of desire, becomes the regulator of our emotions, our desires and our thoughts. Thus we have power to control our thoughts aright only by choosing right objects of pursuit. We have power to regulate them in this [pg 064] way, and but very little power to control them in any other.
The mere determination to think only on certain subjects in which we feel very little interest avails but for a short time. Speedily the mind returns to its natural course, and brings forward only those objects connected with our chief objects of desire and pursuit.
Chapter XIV. Nature of Mind.—The Moral Sense, or Moral Susceptibilities.
Those susceptibilities of pleasure and pain which are affected by the conduct of ourselves or others, in reference to rules of right and wrong, are called the moral sense, or the moral susceptibilities.
In order to a more clear view of this part of the subject, it is important to inquire as to the manner in which the ideas of right and wrong seem to originate.
The young child first notices that certain actions of its own are regarded with smiles and tones of love and approval, while other acts occasion frowns and tones of displeasure.
Next, it perceives that whatever gives pleasure to itself is called good and right, while whatever causes unpleasant feelings is called bad and wrong. Moreover, it notices that there is a right and wrong way to hold its spoon, to use its playthings, to put on its clothes, and to do multitudes of other things. It thus perceives, more and more, that there are rules to regulate [pg 065] the use and action of all things, both animate and inanimate, and that such rules always have reference to some plan or design.
As its faculties develop and its observation enlarges, the general impression is secured that all plans and contrivances of men are designed to promote enjoyment or to prevent discomfort, and are called good and right just so far as this is done. At the same time, all that tend to discomfort or pain are called bad and wrong.
In all the works of nature around, too, every thing that promotes enjoyment is called good and right, and the opposite is called evil and wrong.
At last there is a resulting feeling that the great design of all things is to secure good and prevent evil, and that whatever is opposed to this is wrong, and unfitted to the object for which all things exist. The question whether this impression is owing solely to observation or partly to mental constitution is waived, as of little practical consequence.
In the experience of infancy and childhood, the law of sacrifice is speedily developed. It is perceived that much of the good to be gained, if sought to excess, occasions pain, so that there must be a certain amount of self-denial practiced, which, to the young novice, sometimes involves disappointment and discomfort. It is also seen that frequently two or more enjoyments are offered which are incompatible, so that one must be relinquished to gain the other. It is perceived, also, that there is a constant calculation going on as to which will be the best—that is, which will secure the most good with the least evil. And the child is constantly instructed that it must avoid excess, and must give up what is of [pg 066] less value to secure the greater good. All this training involves sacrifices which are more or less painful, so that a young child will sometimes cry as it voluntarily gives up one kind of pleasure as the only mode of securing what is best.
It is perceived, also, that there is a constant balancing of good and evil, so that a given amount of enjoyment cancels or repays for a certain amount of evil. When a great amount of enjoyment is purchased by a small degree of labor or trouble, the compound result is deemed a good, and called right; on the contrary, when the evil involved exceeds a given amount in comparison to the good, the compound result is called evil and wrong.
Thus is generated the impression that there is a law of sacrifice instituted requiring the greatest possible good with the least possible evil, and that this is the great design of all things.
The impression is, not merely that we are to seek enjoyment and avoid pain, but that we are to seek the greatest possible good with the least possible evil, and that in doing this we are to obey the law of sacrifice, by which the greatest good is to be bought by a certain amount of evil voluntarily assumed.
Moreover, the child is thus gradually trained to understand that good and evil are to be regarded in two relations. Any thing and every thing is called good when it in any way gives enjoyment to any being.
But if the good can be secured only by sacrificing a greater good or by inflicting a greater evil, then, in this relation, the good is called evil and wrong. Thus, in one relation eating a delicious fruit is a good, because it gives enjoyment. But if such is the state of [pg 067] a child's stomach, that sickness and suffering will follow the act, then it is evil and wrong.
The early training of infancy introduces the first part of the great law of sacrifice in regard to self alone. But as the intellect develops, the existence of other minds is learned, and their happiness or suffering become subjects of attention. Here the calculations of the balance of good and evil become more and more complicated. And the two relations also become more definite and extensive. Whatever gives pleasure is always called good and right, until some evil is discovered as connected with it, not alone or chiefly to self, but to others also. Then the compound result is sought for, and if it is seen that, on the whole, what by itself would be good and right if dissevered from its connected evil, does involve more evil than good, then it is called evil and wrong. But if the balance shows so great an amount of good as pays for certain incidental evils, then the result is called good and right.
The child also very early learns that the character of those around is estimated by their reference to this mode of regarding good and evil, right and wrong. If a child simply seeks good to itself without any regard to the amount of evil involved as a consequence, he is called a bad child. On the contrary, those who make sacrifice of their wishes and plans to avoid what would bring evil on others, are called good, generous, lovely and virtuous. The youngest child soon perceives that its mother and other friends are constantly making sacrifices for its own good, and bearing inconveniences and trouble for the good of those around. And those who perform such acts of [pg 068] benevolent self-sacrifice are praised, and their conduct is called good and right.
Thus arises a conviction or belief that the design or end for which every thing exists is to make the most happiness possible, and that those who conform to this design are acting right, while those who do not are acting wrong. Eventually there is established this conviction, also, that the voluntary sacrifice of self-enjoyment to promote the best good of all, is the highest kind of right action, and that those who practice this the most are the best in character.
The first feature of our moral sense, then, is, that impression of the great design of all things which enables us to judge of the right and wrong in voluntary action. This also may be placed as one of the principles of common sense. God has so formed our minds and their circumstances, that the result is a universal belief in every rational mind that whatever secures the most happiness with the least evil is right, and whatever does not is wrong. The wanton and needless destruction of happiness also men believe to be wrong. Their only diversities of opinion are in regard to what will be best and what will not.
The second feature of our moral constitution is what is ordinarily called the sense of justice. It is that susceptibility which is excited at the view of the conduct of others as voluntary causes of good or evil.
In all cases where free agents act to promote happiness, an emotion of approval arises, together with a desire of reward to the author of the good. On the contrary, when there is a voluntary destruction of happiness, there is an emotion of disapproval, and a desire for retributive pain on the author of the wrong.
These emotions are instinctive, and not at all regulated by reason in their inception. When an evil is done, an instant desire is felt to discover the cause; and when it is found, an instant desire is felt to inflict some penalty. So irrational is this impulse, that children will exhibit anger and deal blows on inanimate objects that cause pain. Even mature minds are sometimes conscious of this impulse.
That this impulse is an implanted part of our constitution, and not the result of instruction, is seen in the delight manifested by young children in the narration of the nursery tale where the cruel uncle who murdered the Babes in the Wood receives the retributions of Heaven.
It is the office of the intellect to judge whether the deed was a voluntary one, whether the agent intended the mischief, and whether a penalty will be of any use. The impulse to punish is never preceded by any such calculations.
Another feature in this sense of justice is the proportion demanded between the evil done and the penalty inflicted. That this also is instinctive, and not the result of instruction, is seen in the nursery, where children will approve of slight penalties for slight offenses, and severe ones for great ones, but will revolt from any very great disproportion between the wrong act and its penalty. As a general rule, both in the nursery and in mature minds, the greater the wrong done, the stronger the desire for a penalty, and the more severe the punishment demanded.
Another very important point of consideration is the universal feeling of mankind that the natural penalties for wrong-doing are not sufficient, and that it is an act [pg 070] of love as well as of justice to add to these penalties. Thus the parent who forbids his child to eat green fruit will not trust to the results of the natural penalty, but will restrain by the fear of the immediate and more easily conceived penalty of chastisement.
So, in the great family of man, the natural penalties for theft are not deemed sufficient, but severe penalties for the protection of property are added.
This particular is the foundation of certain distinctions that are of great importance, which will now be pointed out.
We find the terms “reward and punishment” used in two different relations. In the first and widest sense they signify not only the penalties of human law, but those natural consequences which, by the constitution of nature, inevitably follow certain courses of conduct.
Thus an indolent man is said to receive poverty as a punishment, and it is in this sense that his children are said to be punished for the faults of their father.
The violations of natural law are punished without any reference to the question whether the evil-doer intended the wrong, or whether he sinned in ignorance, or whether this ignorance was involuntary and unavoidable. The question of the justice or injustice of such natural penalties involves the great question of the right and wrong of the system of the universe. Is it just and right for the Creator to make a system in which all free agents shall be thus led to obedience to its laws by penalties as well as rewards, by fear as well as by hope? This question will not be discussed here.
Most discussions as to just rewards and penalties ordinarily relate to the added penalties by which parents, [pg 071] teachers and magistrates enforce obedience to natural or to statute law.
In these questions reference is always had to the probable results of such rewards and penalties in securing obedience. If experience has shown that certain penalties do secure obedience to wise and good laws, either of nature or of human enactment, then they are considered just. If they do not, they are counted unwise and unjust.
So, if certain penalties are needlessly severe—that is to say, if a less penalty will secure equal obedience, then this also decides so severe a penalty to be unjust.
In deciding on the rectitude of the penalties of human enactments, it is always assumed to be unjust to punish for any lack of knowledge and obedience when the subject had no power to know and to obey. If a choice to obey will not secure the act required of a free agent, then a penalty inflicted for disobedience is always regarded as unjust. The only seeming exception to this is the case where a person, by voluntary means, has deprived himself of ability to obey. But in such cases the punishment is felt to be right, not because he does not obey when he has no power, but because he has voluntarily deprived himself of this power. And he is punished for destroying his ability to obey, and not for violating the law.
These things in human laws, then, are always demanded to make a penalty appear just to the moral sense of mankind, namely, that the subject have power to obey, and that he has opportunity to know the law, and is not ignorant by any voluntary and improper neglect.
In all questions of justice, therefore, it is important [pg 072] to discriminate between those penalties that are inherent as a part of the great system of the universe, and for which the Creator alone is responsible, and those additional penalties which result from voluntary institutions of which men are the authors.
The next feature in our moral constitution is the susceptibility which is excited by the intellectual judgment of our own feelings and conduct as either right or wrong.
In case we decide them to be right, we experience an emotion of self-approval which is very delightful; but if we decide that they are wrong, we experience an immediate penalty in a painful emotion called remorse. This emotion is always proportioned to the amount of evil done, and the consciousness that it was done knowingly and intentionally. No suffering is more keen than the highest emotions of this kind, while their pangs are often enduring and unappeasable. Sometimes there is an attending desire to inflict retribution on one's self as a mode of alleviating this distress.
This susceptibility is usually denominated conscience. Sometimes this word is used to include both the intellectual judgment of our conduct as right or wrong, and the consequent emotions of approval or remorse; sometimes it refers to the susceptibility alone. Either use is correct, as in the connection in which it is employed the distinction can ordinarily be easily made.
This analysis of our moral constitution furnishes means for a clear definition of such terms as obligated, ought, ought not, and the like.
A person is obligated or ought to do a thing when he has the intellect to perceive what is best, and thus [pg 073] right, and the moral susceptibilities just described. When he is destitute either of the intellect or of these susceptibilities, he ceases to be a moral and accountable being. He can no longer be made to feel any moral obligations.
Chapter XV. The Nature of Mind.—The Will.
The power to choose exists in other animals as well as in man, so that it is not this faculty which distinguishes our race from the brutes. It is another part of our nature which elevates us above the lower animals, which will now be described.