Common Sense Applied to Religion; Or, The Bible and the People

by Catharine Esther Beecher

ILLUSTRATIVE MENTAL HISTORY.

I wish, before publishing my forthcoming work, to obtain the views of some of my theological friends as to certain phases of experience of my own mind, and, to a certain extent, of other minds known to me.

My intellectual character was a singular compound of the practical and the imaginative. In youth I had no love for study or for reading even, excepting works of imagination. Don Quixote, the novel to which I first had access, was nearly committed to memory, as were a few other novels found at my grandmother's. The poets, both ancient and modern, were always in reach, and with these materials I early formed a habit of reverie and castle-building as my chief internal source of enjoyment. With this was combined incessant activity in practical matters, such as, at first, doll-dressing and baby-house building; afterward drawing, painting, exploits of merriment, practical jokes, snow castles and forts, summer excursions, school and family drama-acting, and the like. Till eighteen, I never wrote any thing but a few letters and scraps of rhyme, and the transforming of some stories into dramas for acting. A kind teacher, who sympathized in my strong love of the comic, described me as "the busiest of all creatures in doing nothing."

Socially, I was good-natured and sympathizing, so that my jokes and tricks were never such as to tease or annoy others.

Morally, I had a strong sense of justice, but was not naturally so conscientious as some of the other children. Add to these, persevering energy, great self-reliance, and such cheerful hopefulness that the idea of danger or failure never entered my head. Even to this day, perfect success and no mischances are always anticipated till reason corrects the calculation.

Thus constituted, my strict religious training made little impression, for I rarely heard any thing of that which seemed so dull and unintelligible. Up to the age of sixteen my conceptions on this subject were about these: that God made me and all things, and was very great, and wise, and good; that he knew all I thought and did; that because Adam and Eve disobeyed him once only, he drove them out of Eden, and then so arranged it that all their descendants would be born with wicked hearts, and that, though this did not seem either just or good, it was so; that I had such a wicked heart that I could not feel or act right in any thing till I had a new one; that God only could give me a new heart; that, if I died without it, I should go to a lake of fire and brimstone, and be burned alive in it forever; that Jesus Christ was very good, and very sorry for us, and came to earth, and suffered and died to save us from this dreadful doom; that revivals were times when God, the Holy Spirit, gave people new hearts; that, when revivals came, it was best to read the Bible, and pray, and go to meetings, but that at other times it was of little use. This last was not taught, but was my own inference.

My mind turned from all this as very disagreeable. When led by my parents and Christian friends to it, I tried to do as they told me, because I saw they were anxious and troubled, and I wished to relieve them. Two or three times, when I saw my father so troubled, I took Doddridge's Rise and Progress of Religion, and tried to go through the process there laid down, but with utter failure. Meantime, I rarely heard any prayers or sermons, and at fifteen I doubt if the whole of my really serious thoughts and efforts would, except the above, have occupied a whole hour.

In the earlier periods of my religious training, my parents, in their instructions, and also my little hymns and catechisms, made the impression that God loved little children, and, though he was angry when they did wrong, he was pleased when they did right; and, as parental government was tender and loving, my impression of the feelings of the heavenly Parent were conformed to this, my past experience.

But when, in more mature years, I came under the influence of "revival preaching," all this impression seemed to be reversed. I was taught to look at God as a great "moral governor," whose chief interest was "to sustain his law." Then there seemed to be two kinds of right and wrong, the "common" and the "evangelical." According to this distinction, I could not feel or do any thing that was right or acceptable to God till my birth-gift of a depraved heart was renewed by a special divine interposition.

Meantime, there did not seem to be any direct and practical way of securing this supernatural interference; for it was to be the result, not of any efforts of mine, nor were any divine promises or encouragements offered to secure my efforts. On the contrary, the selection of the recipients of this favor was regulated by a divine decree of "election," without reference to any acts of a being who did nothing but evil, and only evil, till this favor was bestowed. Moreover, all the exhortations to effort were based simply on the fact that, ordinarily, those who took a certain course were selected, though I perceived that sometimes those who did the least were chosen, while those who did the most were passed by.

It was this view of the case that had the chief influence in leading to an entire neglect of all religious concerns. It was so nearly like a matter of mere chance, and there seemed so little adaptation of means to ends, that, to one so hopeful, and, at the same time, so practical, there was very little motive of any kind to lead to a religious life.

The first real earnest feeling I ever had on this subject was when my tender mother died—such a mother as earth has seldom seen; as strong in intellect as she was modest and gentle in manners, and loving and sympathizing in heart. She left seven children younger than myself, one of them a babe, and I only sixteen. I really tried, for some time, to become a Christian, till the load of grief was alleviated by time, and then such efforts ceased; but these new responsibilities turned my practical habits into useful channels.

Once after this, when "a revival" seemed closing, and my father expressed his distress for my indifference, I told him I was so happy I could not do any thing but enjoy life, and that nothing but trials and sorrow would do me any good. Tears came into his eyes as he said, "Dear child, must I die too?" The responsive tears came to my eyes, but soon all was forgotten.

At this time my theory of morals was, that to lie, steal, swear, quarrel, disobey parents, and break the Sabbath, were sins for which I should feel guilty; but for not becoming a Christian, when I could not understand how to do it, never rested on my conscience as a sin, but was felt to be simply a misfortune. And I wondered, if God desired that I should have a new heart, and he only could give it, why he did not do so. This was the amount of my "reasoning" so far. Till nearly twenty, I gained little knowledge except by intercourse with intelligent people, for still I had no love for solid reading or study. At about that age, I remember turning over Reid's work on Mental Science, in which my mother had been deeply interested, and wondering how people could read such stuff.

At twenty that betrothal took place, so soon and so tragically ended! It was the realization of all my favorite dreams of earthly bliss. Affection, taste, ambition, every thing most desirable to me and to family friends, seemed secured. In a few months all was ended, and in the most terrible and heart-rending manner.

After the first stunning effect was over, the next feeling was, "This is that indispensable sorrow! this is to save me from eternal death!" And so, as soon as I could do any thing, I began a course of religious reading, prayer, and mental conflict. I tried to remedy that pernicious mental habit of reverie and castle-building; I tried to do I knew not what in "becoming a Christian."

Shut up in entire seclusion, all my dearest hopes forever crushed, without hope or object in life, overwhelmed with grief, horrified less at his dreadful death than at the awful apprehensions he himself had imparted that he was unprepared to die, I spent week after week in reading the stern and powerful writings of President Edwards, Dwight's System of Theology, and other similar works. I hoped for nothing, cared for nothing but to become a Christian. Yet no one could tell me intelligibly how to do it, while it was clear that all expected nothing from my efforts, and that all was dependent on a divine efflatus that was to change the birth-gift of a depraved heart.

And yet I was told that the fault was all my own; that it was my obstinate unwillingness to do what was required that alone made it needful for God to interfere. This was urged as a doctrine from God, and so, though it seemed as if I was not only willing, but that I longed for this change, I submitted my humble intellect to His, and owned that it must be so. So passed several dark and weary months.

Next, I went to visit the parents of the friend I had lost. Here I read his private records of years of almost superhuman effort to govern his mind, and to achieve the very thing I was laboring for, and yet, to his mind, all ended in entire failure; and this, too, without any murmuring, or any accusation of any one but himself. It was, as he maintained, because he was so ungrateful, so hardened, so obstinately "unwilling," so averse from God and his service. And yet he was the model of every domestic, social, and official virtue; so reverent to God, so tender as a son and brother, so conscientious and faithful as an instructor! In not a single duty did he fail that the closest intimacy could discover; and yet, by his own showing, he had no love to God, and was entirely "unwilling" to love and serve him.

At the same time, I found his intelligent, tender, heart-broken mother had for years been living just such a conscientious life, without any hope that she was a Christian, while now her pride and darling son was lost to her forever on earth, and oh! where was he? and where should she meet him at last? And thus she died. The only brother, too, so conscientious and exemplary, was and long continued in the same same position of mind.

These revelations took away all hope of any good from any farther efforts of mine. At this period I almost lost my reason. For some days I thought I should go distracted. The first decided "change of mind" I now recall was an outburst of indignation and abhorrence. I remember once rising, as I was about to offer my usual, now hopeless prayer, with a feeling very like this: that such a God did not deserve to be loved; that I would not love him if I could, and I was glad I did not! It was but momentary, and the long training of years resumed its sway.

It was at this period that I framed my first attempt at serious argument in a letter to my father. I took this position, that our own experience and consciousness were the highest kind of evidence of our mental power, and that I had this evidence of my mental inability to love God as required. My father's reply was published in the Christian Spectator, and was regarded as masterly and unanswerable. Its chief aim was to lessen confidence in my own consciousness, and to show that, as God was just and good, and certainly did require supreme love to him, we had the power to obey. I was unable to meet the argument, and so allowed that it must be so, and that all that was in my way was my own obstinate "unwillingness."

But there was another point about which I attempted to reason that I did not give up so easily. According to the theory of "obstinate unwillingness," there was nothing in the Bible by way of promise, or even encouragement, for any like me. For how could God feel sympathy for obstinate rebels, or how make promises of hope and encouragement to those whose only difficulty was an unreasonable dislike to God and his service? Such texts as I quoted to the contrary (as Prov. 2:1-6; Matth. 7:7; John 4:10) were not for such as I, but for those already converted; and no prayers, even, were acceptable till offered by a renewed heart. So it seemed impossible, in any case, to pray acceptably to God for the greatest of all boons, redemption from the awful doom of eternal death; for at regeneration the blessing was already given, and before that act no prayer was acceptable. So there was no place for such a prayer. This I never accepted, though I did not quite venture to oppose it.

At one time my mind turned with longing and tender emotions toward Jesus Christ. All he said and did appeared so reasonable and so kind that it seemed to me he would hear my prayers. I brought, to sustain this idea, the case of the young man whom "Jesus loved" when he had no religion. Here I was met by a theory that, till now, had not attracted my notice, which was, that there was a human soul in Christ joined to the Divine mind, and that it was this human soul that felt this "human sympathy" for sinners, and bore all the suffering, while the Deity had nothing but calm, unmingled bliss. This made me feel that I could love the human soul, but could not love God. Indeed, the sufferings of this innocent Savior, unshared by God, was the most revolting of all.

At the close of a long year of such darkness and suffering, I went to my friends in Boston, where "a revival" was in progress, and where I met my father. Here I received the most tender sympathy, was taken to prayer-meetings, and every thing was said and done that piety and love could devise for my relief, but all in vain.

Finally, I came to this attitude of mind: "I will not try any more to understand any thing about these doctrines. I will not try any more to 'be convinced of sin' in this inability to love God. Something is the matter: it does not seem like obstinate 'unwillingness;' but if God says so, I will take his word for it. I will assume that He is just, and wise, and good, in spite of all that seems to contrary. I will try to do all He commands the best I can. There must be a dreadful mistake somewhere, but I will trust and obey, and wait quietly for light." At this time my father gave me some little hope. I knew not why, for I did not "love God" according to any of the ordinary tests. But I was encouraged to hope that my heart was "renewed," and I shortly after made a public profession of religion in my father's church.

During my residence with the friends referred to, I attempted the duties of a teacher to two young daughters of the family, and, to prepare myself, for the first time set my mind to real hard study. In five weeks I went through a large Arithmetic, of which I knew almost nothing; in seven weeks I completed Day's Algebra. Two schoolbooks on Chemistry and Natural Philosophy were also mastered that gloomy winter. I had no other resource within or without for so active a mind. Then my father urged me, for the sake of a sister, as my own pecuniary wants had been provided for, to commence a school in Hartford. As I taught only half a day, and "the higher branches" were but just entering female schools, I found no difficulty in keeping sufficiently ahead of my pupils. Thus commenced my career as a teacher.

I went on several years with no other evidence of "love to God," which was the main test of "regeneration," but perseverance in the determination to assume that He was wise, just, and good, and to do all I could to obey him. My great aim in life was to find out what He required from the Bible, and then to try to do it as well as I could. Besides this, I imitated the methods of Christian worthies. I kept a religious diary—read religious books—went to religious meetings—prayed in my school, and taught religion to my pupils as it had been taught to me. Often, when I found suffering young minds embarrassed by my own difficulties, willing and anxious to do all in their power, and yet unable to feel as required, I almost lived over past anguish of spirit, and could scarcely nerve myself to instruct them that all the wrong was their own "obstinate unwillingness." There was a constant conflict between the theories to which I had bowed my intellect, and thought I really believed, and the impulses of my moral nature and common sense.

Sometimes these questions were intolerably imperative. What evidence is there that what God says is true, when He claims to be wise, and just, and good, when He has done such contradictory things? For a single act, done six thousand years ago, the first act of disobedience too, He has so constituted things that all the human minds that might be made right are formed so "depraved" as that not one of them will ever be "willing" to love and obey the Creator till He "renews" their minds. If I were to act thus, I should think it right for every one to believe I was cruel and unjust until I showed good reasons for it. And if I saw any one ruining the minds of young children, or permitting Adam or any one else to do it, when I had power to prevent it, I should say it was right to consider him an abominable and hateful being till he showed good reasons for such a course.

Such thoughts were banished by the force of a strong will, and I continued to hold on to the Bible as a revelation from God, and to His claims as being wise, and just, and good. My renewed decision was, "There is some dreadful mistake somewhere; but I will take God's word and trust it, do the best I can, and wait till all is made clear."

In the later periods of life, a mode of religious training has come repeatedly under my observation, to which a brief reference will here be made. I have known children, no more favorably endowed than myself, and some of them less so, whose parents were no more earnest and faithful than mine, though on a different theory.

These children were first trained to prompt, unquestioning, and universal obedience to their parents' commands, almost such as is required by their Creator to his fixed and unalterable laws. At the same time they were treated with the greatest tenderness and sympathy, and as soon as they could understand the reasons for parental requirements, these reasons were given, but always with the understanding that implicit obedience must often be rendered without understanding the reasons. When these habits of confiding and affectionate obedience were formed, then they were taught that Jesus Christ was the Maker, Friend, and Father of all, who loved all his children as these parents loved their little ones, only more and better; that He created them to be happy, rejoiced to see them so, and was always sorry for them in every trouble.

They were taught that there are right ways and wrong ways of seeking to be happy; that Jesus Christ came into this world to teach us what are these right and wrong ways, and that His instructions are written in the Bible; that it is very difficult to feel and act right in all things; that, when children try to do so, the Savior is pleased with them, and, though they see him not, is present with them to help them; that, when they fail, and feel or act wrong, he is grieved, as their parents are, and as ready to forgive and help them, when they too are sorry, and continue to try to do right in all things; that they are Christians just so far as they succeed in obeying Christ, and that, the more they try, the more help they will have, and the better they will succeed.

Thus these children grew up with the feeling that whenever they did any thing that was kind, honest, honorable, just, and self-denying, they were pleasing, not only their parents, but their best and ever-present Friend. Under such a course, the varied duties of religion and of social and domestic life were gradually not only explained, but enforced, both by parental authority and example, till a character and habits were formed that were far more consistent with the New Testament exhibitions of Christian life than is often seen among mature Christians.

Without at present expressing any other opinion in regard to this method, I am strong in the belief that if this course had been pursued with me in childhood, very different mental habits would have been the result, and that the Christian life would have begun and progressed probably before the severe discipline of sorrow came, and certainly after it had been experienced.

At the same time, there is a deep conviction that many of my young pupils, who turned away from religion as uninviting, severe, and unintelligible, would, by another method, have been easily led into the true paths of pleasantness and peace.

I wish now to exhibit the influence of one doctrine (which I claim to be that of reason as truly as of revelation) on a mind like mine. I have stated something of that hopeful, elastic, and happy temperament that seemed to make sorrow so indispensable to the development of my noblest powers. But the earthly sorrow, time and new interests would have remedied ere youth had passed. But that awful doctrine of THE ETERNAL, IRREMEDIABLE LOSS OF THE SOUL, so ground into my spirit by years of effort, of which this was the mainspring, has been the grand motive power of my whole life ever since. If I could in any way have satisfied myself that a time would come, however distant, when all sufferers would be repaid by eternal ages of bliss, and all the guilty, however long their period of purgation, would at last be pure and happy forever, I should have returned to life and its enjoyments with fresh zest after such a period of privation. But I could not gain any such assurance without the Bible, but rather the reverse; while all the life and teachings of Christ and the Apostles seemed entirely based on the assumption that our whole race were in awful danger, that some were to be saved and some were to be lost forever, and that the great end for which Christ lived, and for which his followers are to live, is to SAVE AS MANY AS POSSIBLE from this awful doom.

Indeed, I could not see how any one could feel any respect for the teachings of Christ when such terrible things were uttered by him, if there was no just reason thus to terrify and alarm mankind. Times without number, I went over the New Testament to see if I could find any honest way of escaping that doctrine, and always ending with a deeper and more awful conviction of its reality. The result was, that while, for the first year, I was driven to such mental effort and suffering to save myself, as soon as the least hope dawned that I was safe, all that was kindly and sympathizing in my nature led me to renewed efforts to save others.

After such a lesson of inability, both in my own case and that of such dear friends, no words can express the ineffable pity, sympathy, and almost horror with which I looked on the world around me. And when young and happy minds, such as once was my own, came under my training, I never felt any need of being "waked up," as some Christian people seemed to do. It only seemed to me I could never sleep. There never has been an hour for thirty years when a moment's consideration of this awful doctrine would not drive away every temptation to earthly ambition, or any longings for earthly good of any sort for myself. Many times, when, by the presentation of such an awful theme, I have brought the young to me with tears and willing docility, and when, to the question "What can we do to be saved?" my shut-up heart was ready to exclaim "Nothing," I have been so burdened and worn as to be obliged to pray to forget, and to take every lawful mode to turn my thoughts to other less exciting themes. It was at such times I understood for what the love of the comic was implanted, and if all Christians should feel as I do, what might be the legitimate use of works of fiction, the drama, and the dance. In such a case, and properly regulated, they would be needful and only beneficial alteratives.

I wish now to ask my theological friends to consider the character of my inner life. In all outward manifestations I took the theory of religion trained into me, and did my best to believe it, and talked, and wrote, and prayed, and acted before others on the assumption of its truth. But my inner life was after this fashion: as to prayer in private, I found great comfort in the preface to the Lord's prayer, "After this manner pray ye." It was a short, comprehensive prayer, which amounted to this, that God's will might be done on earth as in heaven; that our temporal wants might be supplied; that we might do right and escape evil. This I could sincerely feel and pray when all details distressed me. But, still better, this prayer began, "Our Father." Now to me, through my whole life, this word "father" had been associated with unparalleled tenderness, sympathy, and love; with truth, justice, and all that was lovable. I could not apply it to God without such associations, and so it comforted me—and that was all. But the prayers, hymns, and sermons conformed to the theory of religion were occasions when I had to struggle with feelings of disgust and abhorrence. Especially, at times, was this so in reference to the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ, until I formed a curious mental habit of letting these things pass through my mind as something I did not understand, and then there seemed to flow in a vague impression of something better, I knew not what.

In the progress of years I came to instruct some of the most vigorous and active minds I ever saw, both in mental science and in the interpretation of the Bible, and thus gradually evolved and applied "the principles of reason and rules of interpretation" in this work. The results will mainly appear in what follows.

Up to this time, my feelings toward God (except sometimes when praying, as above described) were that, as He has said he was wise, and just, and good, I would take his word for it, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, and feel and act as he required as far as I had power. My service, however, was much like that of a slave to a hard master. If "the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom," I certainly began aright.

But the whole force of my being was turned, not toward Him, but toward my lost, and suffering, and darkened fellow-beings. And when all my darkness was removed, and by a simple intellectual process of argumentation I drew from His Holy Word all my soul had longed for, my chief joy was, not that I was safe, not that I could feel emotions of love to Him, but that He felt as I did for this all-absorbing purpose and end of my existence—to save my fellow-men.

Some minds seem to begin religious life with such emotions of love to the Creator as makes it easy to carry out the purpose to obey him. In my case, I began with the cool intellectual purpose to obey him, while it was love, not to Him, but to my fellow-men, that made it easy to carry out this purpose of obedience. But, in both cases, was it not the spirit of obedience that was the grand requisite? The all-controlling purpose of acting right, by obeying all the laws of the Creator as discovered by the light of Nature, or by His revealed Word—is not this the distinctive feature that marks the "regenerated" soul?

It is theological theories, forced on mankind through popes, emperors, and church councils, by pains and penalties, which has mystified that grand question of life, "What must we do to be saved?" so that the answer to almost every other practical question is more clear than this. What do the great masses of men suppose that they themselves are to do if ever they become "regenerated?" Multitudes imagine that, by going to camp-meetings, or conference meetings, or in "revivals," some Divine efflux will come over them, of which the chief evidence is that the mind is filled with joy, or other delightful emotions. Others deem it a mysterious change, that takes place sometimes in sleep, without any voluntary act of the individual. Others suppose it to consist in certain emotions or mental acts, in reference to Jesus Christ, that come by divine influence. Others consider it an act of the intellect and will, of which emotions may be the preceding state, or may follow as a result. Probably the vast majority regard it as a mysterious indescribable event, that no one can understand till it is experienced, and which can not be made intelligible to an "unrenewed mind."

Thousands of excellent, conscientious persons are moving about with dark minds and heavy hearts, who would instantly become happy and consistent followers of Christ if these theories could be removed from their minds, and they were sure that an earnest spirit of obedience to Jesus Christ is what is required; to which the promises of hope and encouragement are made; which is the highest evidence of regeneration, and the chief feature of that "love to God" required; while all emotions, frames, and feelings are nothing without it. Thousands of children and young persons, religiously trained, are held back from a religious life because it is conceived of as so mysterious, uninviting, and painful that they can neither understand or desire it. At the same time, it is true that, after children have been trained wrong, so that bad habits of mind are dominant, the clear understanding of this subject will not, in many cases, make it easy for them to commence a religious life, or make it look desirable.

The fearful sanctions of eternity can not very directly be brought to bear on the minds of young children without great risk of entirely false impressions. We see, in the Old Testament, that when God was training a race, in the infancy of its development He made visible appearances, used temporal motives, and made no appeals to the sanctions of the invisible world. Like the parents just referred to, his first aim seemed to be to teach habits of obedience to God's temporal laws, while, at the same time, He displayed his sympathy, mercy, and love. And among his ancient people men became his obedient children by just such training as is now best fitted to young children.

But when the race was farther advanced, so as to be able to act more by reason and on general principles, and when His religion, by new motives and forces, was to be extended from one nation to all the world, then the Creator came himself; and while disclosing those most terrific sanctions of the invisible world, at the same time exhibited such a manifestation of His pity, sympathy, and self-sacrificing love as renders these terrors safe and effective in such a conjuncture, as they would not be without.

With these two classes of motives thus intensified, such a moral power has been generated, leading to self-denying efforts to educate and save mankind, as never existed before. In the case of the writer, the power of these terrible sanctions alone has been illustrated. In other cases, the power of Christ's love and example have been the leading motives. It is the union of both, clearly appreciated, and especially brought to bear on those who form the character of childhood and youth, that eventually is to renew the whole race, and bring every human being to perfect obedience to all the laws of the Creator.

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In the investigation which originated at the time the writer commenced teaching mental philosophy in connection with the Bible, this was the first point to which attention was led, "What is that 'reason' or 'common sense' which is so often appealed to as the umpire in religion, morals, and interpretation?" All the works of mental science within reach were examined, but it was long before any clear conceptions on this question were gained, and still longer before any test was evolved that seemed a practical one, as it is presented in this work. Not that these principles and the test are not indicated by metaphysicians in various forms of language, but that there is such a confusing variety of expression, and all is so presented as a speculative instead of a practical question, that years elapsed before that use of these principles which this work illustrates was attained.

This is here referred to in explanation of future passages that otherwise might seem to imply that the author assumes to have discovered something not before known or recognized by metaphysicians. The very writings of Dr. Reid, which, in early life, were turned over with wonder that any one could be interested in them, probably contain the most complete and clear exhibition of these principles, and also recognize the test by which they are to be established. The writings of Sir William Hamilton exhibit other, but less practical tests of these principles.

Until the printing of this volume was nearly complete, it was the plan of the author to have the whole work issued at once; and, with reference to this whole, its title was The Bible and the People, or Common Sense Applied to Religion. But, after submitting this portion of the work to criticism, it was concluded to issue only one volume, and to wait until it was seen what reception the principles it offered would meet. In consequence of this, it seemed proper to transpose the title, as the latter portion of it best describes the contents of the first volume. This accounts for what is unusual in paging and in the running title on the left-hand pages.

THE
BIBLE AND THE PEOPLE.

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CHAPTER I.
THE GRAND QUESTIONS OF LIFE.

We are now living through the period of demolition. In morals, in social life, in politics, in medicine, and in religion, there is a universal upturning of foundations.

But the day of reconstruction seems to be looming in the orient, and now the grand question is, Are there any sure and universal principles that will evolve a harmonious system in which all shall agree? Or, is the only unity to be anticipated that which results from the unsatisfactory conclusion that all must "agree to disagree?"

The first alternative is believed to be in our future; and it is hoped that this volume will contribute something toward evolving such principles of reconstruction.

In some happily constituted minds and singularly favorable circumstances, the passages of this life are almost uniformly happy, and no clouds ever shut out the sunshine of a cheerful existence.

But, as a general rule, the farther we advance in life, the more solemn become our convictions that its experiences are stormy, sad, disappointing, and unsatisfactory. And the nobler the mind and the more exalted its aspirations, the more surely are these lessons read and understood.

If we turn aside from the lower haunts of poverty, vice, and crime, and look only at the more favored classes, we find men toiling for years and years to build up schemes which, in some sudden shock, crumble and pass away; or, are their high hopes accomplished, some bitter ingredient mingles with the cup of success, that turns it to gall.

And so, in heart-histories, the tenderest ties are formed, as it would seem, only to be wrenched and torn. The young heart gives its fresh impassioned love to its appropriate object, and, just at the happy consummation, death or desertion forever ends life's brightest experience.

The young parents receive their first-born with untold rapture, and then some disease or accident turns it to a hopeless idiot or ceaseless sufferer.

The young husband lays at once his first love and his first born in the same grave. The tender parents spend years and years of care and effort to rear a darling child, and at the culmination of their hopes the flower is cut down.

Business or misfortune severs those whose chief happiness would be to live together. The long-tried friends of early life are thrown into painful antagonisms that end their friendship. The conflicts of interest and party develop conduct and character that shatter confidence in men and tempt to misanthropy.

In short, there are seasons when a thoughtful and tender spirit is tempted to feel as if some malignant power were commissioned to seek out all that is most beautiful, harmonious, and delightful in the experience of our race, only to imbitter, confound, and destroy.

And even where the experience of life has been the most favorable, as its closing years come on early friends pass away, the capacities and resources of enjoyment diminish, and the dim cloud that shrouds the closing vista awakens solemn and anxious meditations on the untried and silent future. Such experiences bring forth the heart-yearning questions that come, as it were, from the united voice of sad and suffering humanity:

"Is there a God that controls the destinies of man? If so, what are his character and designs? Is this sad life our only portion, or shall we live beyond the grave? If there is another life before us, what influence has our conduct and character here on its solemn destinies?

Are we left to our own unaided faculties to reason out from the nature of things around us the replies to these momentous questions, or has the Author of our being given some direct revelation to guide us?

If such a revelation exists, is it made accessible to all, or must one portion of our race necessarily depend on fallible and interested interpreters?

Does this revelation agree with reason and experience, and does it contain all that we need both for safe guidance and for peace of mind?

It is believed that, in the following pages, it will be seen that every mind, of even only ordinary capacity, is furnished with the means of answering all these questions, and with as much certainty as appertains to the ordinary practical questions of this life.

At the same time, it will appear that most of the difficulties and diversities of opinions in religious matters have mainly resulted from neglecting these means of obtaining truth and peace, and that the "good times coming" are all depending on the proper use of these means.

As introductory to the first main topic, it is important to refer to the fact that, in all languages, man is recognized as possessing what is called reason. He is called a reasonable being and a reasoning being, and it is claimed that it is his reason that places him at the head of creation in this world.

Again, in discussions on truth and duty, all men seem to agree that there is such a thing as reason, and that it is, more or less, to be made the umpire in settling all disputed points. It is true that very few seem to have a clear and definite idea of what this reason is, or how it is to be made an umpire. But all allow that there is such a thing, and that it has a very important office in deciding questions of truth and duty.

Then, again, among more scientific men, we hear constant reference made to our "intuitions" and our "intuitive knowledge," as if there were some fixed truths which are superior to all others. It is true, that when we come to inquire specifically as to what are these intuitions, we often find them to be acquired notions, and sometimes such as are unsupported by any evidence, or even contrary to the best kind of evidence. Nevertheless, those who use these terms all agree in the fact that there are "intuitions" and "intuitive knowledge," which are superior to any other kinds of knowledge, and involve a certainty of conviction which no reasoning can overthrow.

Then, as we advance still higher in the world of letters, we find metaphysicians and philosophers assuming that a belief in certain truths is implanted in all rational minds by the Creator as a necessary part of their constitution, and that these truths are the foundation of most of our acquired knowledge. The truths or principles of mind thus recognized are called by various names, such as reason, the principles of reason, the primary truths, the intuitions, the intuitive truths, the fundamental truths, the principles of common sense, the categories, etc.

The grand difficulty on this subject has been, that while all agree in the existence of such implanted truths, there has never been any test for deciding which are these truths, in distinction from our acquired notions.

It is the object of the succeeding chapter to present the most important of these truths, and also to set forth an infallible test by which they may be distinguished from every other kind of knowledge.

And this attempt is made with a full conviction that success in such an effort is to be the foundation of that harmony of reconstruction which has been indicated as provided for the future.

CHAPTER II.
PRINCIPLES OF REASON, OR INTUITIVE TRUTHS.

It is maintained that the Author of mind has implanted, as a part of its constitution, the belief in certain truths, so that it is impossible to disbelieve them without losing that which distinguishes man as a rational being.

It is also assumed that there is an infallible test, by which we can distinguish these truths from all those acquired notions which men often falsely call intuitions, or principles of reason, etc.

Before proceeding, it will be premised that the attempt will not be to set forth all those truths that may properly be called intuitive, but it will be limited to those which are immediately connected with the subjects to be discussed.

To proceed, then, the first principle of reason, or intuitive truth, is that by which we arrive at the idea of a great First Cause, who was without a beginning. In briefest form, this truth is usually thus expressed:

EVERY CHANGE HAS A CAUSE.

The position here maintained is that the human mind is so made that, whenever any kind of change (or effect) takes place, there inevitably follows a belief that there is some antecedent which is the cause of this change, or, in other words, that there is something that produced this change.

Now the question is not how this conviction first finds entrance to the mind, nor whether it is consequent on experience.

It is simply a question of fact. Men always do, whenever they see any new form of existence, or any change take place, believe that there is some antecedent cause that produced this change.

Moreover, if a man should be found who was destitute of this belief, so that in his daily pursuits he assumed that things would spring into existence without any cause, and that there were no causes of any kind that produced the changes around him, he would be pronounced insane—a man who had "lost his reason."

Here, then, we have an example of an intuitive truth, and also an illustration of the test by which we are to distinguish such truths from all others, viz.:

Any truth is a principle of reason, or an intuitive truth, when all men talk and act as if they believed it in the practical affairs of life, and when talking and acting as if it were not believed, would universally be regarded as evidence that a man had "lost his reason."

It will now be shown how a belief in this truth involves a belief in some great First Cause who himself had no beginning.

The atheist says thus: Somewhere, far back in other ages, there were no existences at all, either of matter or mind; but at a given period, without any cause at all, the vast and wonderful contrivances of matter and mind began to exist.

The first reply to this is, that it is an assertion without evidence, either intuitive or otherwise. No being ever was known to testify of such an event, and there is no proof of it of any kind.

Next, it is replied that placing such an event at distant ages does not render it any more credible than the assertion that worlds and intelligent beings are coming into existence at the present time without any cause. God has so constituted our minds that we can not believe that any curious and wonderful contrivance springs into being without a cause, either now or at any past period of time.

If the atheist, in the common affairs of life, should talk and act as if he believed there were no causes for all the existences and changes around him, he would be regarded as having "lost his reason." And thus Holy Writ sanctions the decision: "The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God."

We find, then, that our minds are made so that we can not help believing that whatever begins to be has an antecedent cause that produces it, and every change in any kind of existence has a cause. We find, also, the universe around us to be a succession of changes, and these we trace back and back again to antecedent causes.

But at last we come to the grand question, "Who first started this vast system of endless and wonderful contrivances?"

Only two replies are possible. The first is that of the atheist, that the whole started into existence without a cause, which we have shown that no sane mind can really believe.

The only remaining reply is, there is some great self-existent Cause, who never began to be, and who is the author of the universe of matter and mind.[1]

It must, however, be conceded that this intuitive truth does not aid us in deciding what is the nature and character of this First Cause. We are obliged to resort to other intuitive truths to settle this question.

Neither does this principle aid us in deciding whether there may not be more than one self-existent cause; for several minds can be supposed to have united in will and action to bring forth this "universal frame," each one of which might have existed without beginning.

The second intuitive truth is this:

Two classes of causes exist, viz., material things, which act on mind, and immaterial or spiritual things, which act on matter.

Some metaphysicians maintain that every thing is matter, and that mind or spirit is only one particular species of matter. Others teach that every thing is mind, and that all which we suppose to be material things are merely ideas in the mind of what really has no existence.

Now we have no mode of proving that we have a soul or that we have a body, or that there are any real things existing around us. But God has so formed our minds that we can not help believing that our minds are distinct from matter, and that they are causes of changes in our body and in the things around us. Nor can we help believing that we have bodies, and that the things around us are realities. And no man could talk or act, in practical matters, with a contrary belief, without being regarded as having "lost his reason."

The third intuitive truth is, that THE MIND OF MAN IS A FREE AGENT.

By this is signified that mind is an independent cause of its own volitions, and capable, in appropriate circumstances, of choosing in either of two or more ways, not being, like matter, forced to a fixed and necessary mode of action.

Some changes in mind are necessary effects produced by causes out of the mind. And some mental action is the necessary result of its constitution, and can not be otherwise. But choice or volition is an act of the mind itself, when it has power to choose in either of two or more ways without any change of circumstances.

The fatalist denies this, and maintains that choice is a necessary act, the same as the changes in matter, and that at each act of choice the mind had no power to choose otherwise than as it does choose.

In reply to this, nothing is needed but to show that all men believe, and show it by their words and actions, that they always have power to choose more ways than one. And after they have chosen a particular way, they still believe that they had the power to have chosen another way. And though metaphysicians may deny this in words, if any one of them, in practical every-day life, should talk and act as if he believed that he had no power to choose otherwise than as he does, he would be regarded as having "lost his reason."

This subject has often been so treated as to embarrass some of the most acute minds. Yet the ordinary mind is as perfectly qualified to settle this question as the most astute philosopher. Do men believe that they have no power to choose any other way than as they do choose? Do they talk and act in common life as if they believed it? Would not a man who talked and acted on the assumption that he had no power to choose otherwise than as he does choose be regarded as having "lost his reason?"

All men of common sense must answer these questions alike, and thus decide that this is one of the intuitive truths.

The fourth intuitive truth is, that DESIGN IS EVIDENCE OF AN INTELLIGENT CAUSE, AND THE NATURE OF A DESIGN PROVES THE INTENTION AND CHARACTER OF THE AUTHOR.

It is by the aid of this principle of reason that we gain a knowledge of the character and designs of our Creator. All minds are so constituted that when they find a contrivance fitted to accomplish some end, they can not help believing that the author of it is an intelligent cause, and that he intended to secure that end.

This position is finely illustrated by Paley. He describes a savage finding a watch in a desert, who is made to comprehend all its curious contrivances for marking time. This savage, he claims, would inevitably conclude that some intelligent person made the watch, and that it was his design to have it keep time.

In like manner, should the residence of a person be inspected, and be found filled with contrivances for producing mischief and for torturing men and animals, the result would be a belief that the author of these things was cruel and malignant. On the other hand, were these contrivances calculated to produce only comfort and happiness, the inevitable belief would follow that the contriver was benevolent.

Again, if these designs were found to involve powerful and magnificent results, the immediate belief would follow that the author was wise and powerful as well as benevolent.

This illustrates the method by which this implanted principle of reason enables us to learn the design and character of the Author of the universe by the works of creation.

The fifth intuitive truth is, that NO RATIONAL MIND WILL CHOOSE EVIL WITHOUT ANY HOPE OF COMPENSATING GOOD.

The fact that any person was seeking pain and evil without hope of compensating good would prove to all that "reason was lost." No sane mind ever acts thus.

It is by the aid of this intuitive truth that we rely on human testimony. The surest mode of establishing the reliability of a witness is to show that by false testimony he would knowingly incur evil and gain no good. In such circumstances no one would believe that a witness would be false.

The sixth intuitive truth is, that THINGS WILL CONTINUE AS THEY ARE AND HAVE BEEN TILL THERE IS EVIDENCE OF A CHANGE OR OF A CAUSE FOR A CHANGE.

All the business of this life rests on a belief in this implanted truth, and equally so do our inferences in regard to the immortality of the soul and a future state.

The belief that the sun will continue to rise, or that the seasons will return, rests solely on the fact that these events have been uniform in past time, and that we know of no cause for a change from this uniformity. And were any person to talk and act as if destitute of this belief, he would be deemed insane.

Bishop Butler's celebrated argument on the immortality of the soul is founded entirely on this principle. It is briefly this:

Things will continue as they are and have been unless there is some evidence of some change or cause for a change. At death the soul exists. The dissolution of the body is no evidence of the destruction of the soul, and there is no kind of evidence that it is destroyed. Therefore we infer that the soul continues to exist after the dissolution of the body.

The main point in this argument is to show that there is no evidence that the act of death involves the destruction of the soul. If this can be established, then the belief must follow that the soul exists after death. By the same method Butler establishes several other doctrines of the Bible.

It is by the aid of this principle that what are called the laws of nature are established. By means of human testimony we learn what has been the uniform course of nature. And then men conclude that what has been will continue to be until some new cause intervenes to change this uniformity.

The seventh intuitive truth is, that the NEEDLESS DESTRUCTION OF HAPPINESS OR INFLICTION OF PAIN IS WRONG, and THAT WHATEVER TENDS TO PRODUCE THE MOST HAPPINESS IS RIGHT.

The terms right and wrong, as used by mankind, always have reference to some plan or design. Any thing is called right when it fulfills the design for which it is made, and it is called wrong when it does not. Thus a watch is right when it fulfills its design in keeping time. A compass is right when it points to the north. And so of all contrivances.

Of course, then, the question as to the right and wrong action of mind involves a reference to the object or design of the Author of mind. At this time it will be assumed (the proof being reserved for future pages) that the design or object for which God made mind was to produce the greatest possible happiness with the least possible evil.

It is also assumed, without here exhibiting the proof, that the impression of this design is so inwrought into the mental constitution that whatever is perceived to be destructive to happiness is felt to be wrong—that is, unfitted to the design of the Author of all things, which the mind feels often when it can not logically set forth the reason. So, also, whatever is seen to promote the greatest amount of happiness is felt to be right.

The mind is so constituted that, without any act of reasoning as to the tendencies of things, there are certain feelings and actions that the mind turns from as unfit and to be abhorred.

Thus, when plighted faith is violated, or a great benefactor treated with cruelty and indignity by those he has benefited, a feeling of unfitness and abhorrence is awakened, independent of all considerations of the tendency of such conduct to destroy happiness.

In like manner, there are certain acts of gratitude and benevolence that always awaken approval and admiration as suitable and right, without any reference to future tendencies or results.

At the same time, it is true that when, by a process of reasoning, it is seen that the tendency of any course of conduct is to diminish happiness or inflict evil without compensating good, there arises the same feeling of disapproval of it as wrong, and unfitted to the end for which all things are made. This is often the case when there is no definite, distinct idea of what the great design of the Creator may be.

This belief and feeling of unfitness and wrongfulness is common to all sane minds. It is true that there are different views of what actions are destructive to happiness, but when there is a clear perception that a given act will do great harm and no good, every mind will feel that it is wrong; and when it is seen that any act will do good without any evil, it is felt to be right. And this is so universal, that if any one should be found to talk and act with a contrary belief, he would be regarded as having lost a part of that which constitutes him a rational being.

The eighth intuitive truth is, that THE EVIDENCE OF OUR SENSES IS RELIABLE.

This statement needs some qualification. It often requires time to learn accurately what our senses do testify, and sometimes the apparent experience of the senses proves incorrect. For example, to one just restored to sight, every object seems to touch the eye, and distances are learned only by experience. So the sun and stars seem to move, when it is the earth that is turning. So, also, the senses are sometimes diseased or disordered, and make false reports.

The true meaning, then, of the above intuitive truth is, that when men know that they have had all requisite experience, and understand properly all the circumstances of the case, they can not help believing the evidence of their senses, and when this belief is lost, a person is regarded as insane.

The ninth intuitive truth is, that whenever there is a change in the established order of nature surpassing human power, it is evidence of a supernatural agency that is sanctioned by the Author of the laws of Nature.

The conviction of the wisdom and power of the Author of this vast and wonderful frame around us is such that whatever changes may occur in its established order must be felt to be by his permission.

To illustrate this, suppose a man appeared claiming to be a teacher sent from God. In proof of this, he commands a mountain to be uptorn and thrown into the sea. Now, if this phenomenon should follow his command, it would be impossible for any who witnessed it to refrain from believing that the Author of Nature performed this miracle to attest the authority of his messenger.

In order to insure this belief in the interference of Deity, there must be full evidence that there can be no deception, and that the miraculous performance is entirely beyond human power and skill. Men always talk and act on the assumption that such miracles are from God, and that all rational minds so regard them.

The tenth intuitive truth is, that IN ALL PRACTICAL CONCERNS WE ARE TO CONSIDER THAT COURSE RIGHT WHICH HAS THE BALANCE OF EVIDENCE IN ITS FAVOR.

There are few practical questions where we can have perfect certainty as to the right course. In almost all the concerns of life men are guided by probabilities. It is not certain that seed will spring up, or that a ship will return, or that a given medicine will cure, or that any future project will succeed; but men go forward in their pursuits with exactly the same decision as if the probabilities that guide them were certainties. They find which course has the most evidence in its favor, and then act as if it was certain that this was the right course to attain their designs.

And if any person should habitually act as if he believed the reverse, he would be regarded as having lost his reason.

The eleventh intuitive truth is, that NOTHING IS TO BE ASSUMED AS TRUE UNLESS THERE IS SOME EVIDENCE THAT IT IS SO.

This principle is always assumed in all practical affairs. If a man were to send a cargo abroad without any evidence that it was wanted, he would be called a fool; and so in all other concerns, every sane man takes this for his rule of conduct.

The preceding include the principles which it is believed are the grand foundation on which rest most of the practical knowledge of life, as well as the doctrines and duties both of natural and revealed religion.

There are some other intuitive truths which are not introduced here, and there are some principles that others have placed in this honorable position which could not stand the test here introduced, and claimed to be the only true and reliable one.

The intuitive truths have been called "fundamental truths," because they are the ultimate basis of all knowledge secured or established by the process of reasoning.

This process consists in assuming a certain proposition to be true as the basis of an argument. If this proposition is granted, or supposed to be granted, then the reasoner proceeds to show that the point in dispute is in reality included in the truth already granted, so that believing the first proposition, or basis, necessarily involves a belief in the one to be proved.

For example, if a man wishes to prove that a certain person is a benevolent man, he proceeds thus:

Let it be granted that all persons who are habitually contriving and laboring to promote the happiness of all around them are benevolent persons. This basis proposition being conceded to be true, the reasoner proceeds to present evidence that the person in question habitually is laboring for the good of others. This being done, he draws the conclusion that this person is included in the class which have been granted to be benevolent.

Reasoning, then, is a process for exhibiting evidence that a point which is disputed is included in a proposition already believed and allowed.

But suppose the disputant denies the truth of the basis or foundation proposition, then it becomes necessary to establish that proposition by another act of reasoning. In order to do this, still another proposition is assumed which is allowed to be true, and which the reasoner then attempts to show includes his former basis proposition.

This process may thus be continued till, finally, it comes to pass that the basis proposition assumed is an intuitive truth. In this case the victory is secure; for whatever can be shown to be embraced in an intuitive truth must be conceded to be true, and whatever is contradictory to an intuitive truth must be allowed to be false.

Now it can be shown that all the reliable practical knowledge of this life can be thus traced back till it is seen to rest on some intuitive truth as its basis.

So, also, all the doctrines and duties, both of natural and revealed religion, can be shown to rest on these intuitive truths. This indicates the propriety of the name given to these first principles as principles of reason and fundamental truths.

Here, then, is presented the foundation of the hope so confidently expressed, that a time is coming when, in all the great questions which now agitate humanity with doubts, discussions, and conflict, there shall result universal harmony and unity of opinion. If such intuitive principles are implanted in all human minds; if there is a certain test by which these principles can be eliminated and established; and if, by a sure process of reasoning, every correct practical and religious opinion can be shown to rest on these principles, and every false one to contradict them, then we can plainly perceive the true path to this golden age.

It is to cultivate the powers of the human intellect, to train every mind, from early life, to detect the true laws of reason, and to practice accurately the process of reasoning. Not that this alone will suffice without the attending cultivation of the moral powers, and the promised blessing of heavenly aid. But the first would powerfully tend to secure the second, and then the third would inevitably be bestowed.

Before proceeding farther, it is desirable to recognize the fact that the word reason is used in several ways. Sometimes it signifies simply the intuitive truths. Sometimes it includes all those principles and powers of mind which are employed in the act of reasoning. Sometimes it refers to the intellect in distinction from the feelings. In all cases, however, the connection will determine in which of these uses it is employed.

[1] Note A.

CHAPTER III.
SOURCES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE.

We have seen that there are certain intuitive truths, the belief of which is implanted as a part of our mental constitution, and that there is a test by which we can distinguish them from all other kinds of knowledge.

We have seen, also, that we are dependent on these truths for a large portion of our acquired knowledge, inasmuch as they are the basis of reasoning, which is that process by which we gain new truths by the aid of those already believed.

It has been intimated, also, that it is chiefly by the aid of these principles that a harmonious system of truth is to be anticipated, in which all minds will eventually agree, at least in all great questions involving the eternal interests of our race.

We will now proceed in an inquiry as to what are the sources of human knowledge in addition to these first implanted truths.

In the first place, then, we have our own personal experience of the nature and action of our own minds, and of the qualities and powers of the persons and things around us. Next we have the experience of other minds as to their own mental history and the properties and powers of all that has surrounded them. This knowledge is communicated by them to us either directly by word of mouth, or indirectly by writings and books.

The experience of a single mind is very limited both as to space and time, and it is only by the united experience of many persons, in different periods and places, that we arrive at what are called the laws of nature and experience. The laws of day and night, summer and winter, the tides, and all the other phenomena of nature, are simply a uniform succession and regularity of events, from which men infer a future regularity of the same experience. Much of this knowledge of past uniformity is transmitted from others to us, and rests on our confidence in human testimony, and it has been shown that this confidence is based on one of the intuitive truths.

Next, we have the knowledge gained by the process of reasoning, and for this we are dependent on the intuitive truths which are the foundation of all reliable deductions.

Lastly, we have the resource of revelations from the Creator of all, who can communicate to us knowledge that we can not gain either by intuition, or experience, or reasoning.

In regard to the kinds of knowledge to be gained from each of these sources, it is clear that the experience of ourselves and others furnishes us with nothing but facts, as it regards matter and mind, as they are developed in this world only. As it respects the Creator, his character and designs, the immortality of the soul, and the future destiny of our race, we gain nothing by our own personal observation or experience. "No man hath seen God at any time." No one has gone to "the silent land" to learn by inspection the secrets of that dim shore, or the destiny of the soul when it passes from earth.

Neither have we any resource in the experience of others who can go to the invisible world and transmit to us the knowledge there gained. There is not a man upon earth that can furnish any reliable information on these subjects from any personal knowledge.

It becomes, then, a most interesting inquiry as to the amount and kind of knowledge to be gained by means of the intuitive truths, experience, and reasoning, independently of revelation. In what follows this inquiry will be pursued.

CHAPTER IV.
OF THE KNOWLEDGE GAINED BY HUMAN EXPERIENCE IN REGARD TO THE NATURE OF MIND AND THE LAWS OF THE SYSTEM OF WHICH IT IS A PART.

We have seen that there are only these sources of human knowledge, viz., the intuitive truths, human experience, reasoning, and revelation. We have alluded to the nature of intuitive knowledge; we will now inquire as to the nature of the knowledge gained by human experience, firstly, in regard to the constitution of mind and the laws of that system in which it is placed. We restrict our inquiries to those points which have the most direct bearing on the great questions to be discussed.

As it respects the nature of mind, then, as exhibited by experience, we learn, in the first place, that it is constituted with desires and propensities for various kinds of enjoyment. These are the gratifications secured by the senses, the pleasures of taste, the happiness of giving and receiving affection, the various intellectual pleasures, and the still higher enjoyment resulting from our moral nature. All these are common to the race, though in varied degrees and combinations. The mind is also constituted with susceptibilities to pain and suffering from all the sources from which enjoyment may spring.

With these susceptibilities are combined an all-pervading and constant desire to gain enjoyment and to escape suffering. This desire is the grand motive power to the mind, as the main-spring is to a watch. For this reason, awakened desires to gain any particular enjoyment or escape any pain are called motives. And so, also, all those things that cause these desires are called motives.

Next, it is seen that the mind is endowed with intellect, or the intellectual powers, by which it can perceive the nature and relative value of various kinds of enjoyment, compare the present with the future, and judge both of what is most valuable and of the proper modes of securing it.

To this add the power of choice or volition, by which, in view of any two or more kinds of enjoyment, the mind decides which shall be secured and which be denied.

Thus constituted, the mind comes into action in a system of law.

By this is signified that in every direction in which man can seek enjoyment there is a right course, or one that secures the good sought in such proper degrees and at such times as that the enjoyment designed is the result. At the same time there is a wrong course, or one in which the enjoyment sought is not secured, or, if gained, is combined with pain and disappointment.

Thus there are right and wrong modes of seeking all the multiplied kinds of enjoyment, while to the right course is attached the reward of pleasure, and with the wrong course is connected the penalty of pain, either immediate or remote.

Again, our minds come into existence in a social system so constituted that the rewards and penalties of law extend, not merely to the good and evil doer, but to those connected with him. Thus each mind is made dependent for happiness on the well-doing of those around almost as much as on its own obedience to law. The penalties for the sins of parents fall on their children, and the sins of children are visited on their parents, and thus in all the other relations of life. Equally so are the rewards of obedience shared by all who are connected with the well-doer.

Thus it appears that in this life happiness is the joint product of the obedience of each individual and the obedience of all connected with him to the laws of the vast system in which we are placed.

Again, each mind comes into this system of law in perfect ignorance of the right and wrong courses to be pursued. At the commencement of being there has been no knowledge of good or of evil to call forth desire or fear, while the only conceivable way in which such a being can be taught law, and its penalties and rewards, is by experience. Good must be tasted before the desire for it can come, and evil must be felt before the fear of it can arise.

After there has been some experience of pleasure and pain, and such advance in knowledge as that others around can teach the new-comer what are the right and wrong courses, then faith or belief becomes the leading mode of safety. From this time happiness or suffering will be proportioned to the truth of the instructions given, to the faith accorded, and to the obedience rendered.

In this complicated system of law, it is found that the great Author of all is never moved to modify or suspend the penalties of wrong-doing by commiseration for the inevitable ignorance of inexperienced beings, nor by pity when wrong instructions are given, nor by sympathy for the pain inflicted. Obedience, exact, constant, persevering—this is the only mode of securing the enjoyment and escaping the pain that are the sanctions of law.

And not only so, but it is often the case that disobedience to some law in only one instance will destroy the comfort and usefulness of a whole life. Nay, more, the neglect or the mistake of a parent sometimes will bring the penalty of violated law on some innocent child, whose whole life will thus be made miserable.

Again, it is found that the sources of enjoyment are of different relative value.

In the commencement of existence pleasure is secured mainly through the senses. Next come the higher social and domestic pleasures; then follow the intellectual enjoyments, the various gratifications of taste, and all the multitudinous resources open to a highly-cultivated, virtuous, and religious man.

The greater the number of these sources, and the more elevated the nature of each, the greater the degree of happiness gained.

Such, also, is the nature of things, that the lower kinds of happiness are placed first within our reach, and then, as the higher modes of enjoyment come, we often find them incompatible with the others, so that to obtain these we must, to some extent, relinquish the humbler classes. Thus, when a child begins to find the value of intellectual attainments, he sees they can not be gained without a sacrifice of many indulgences that are of an inferior value.

We now come to the grand law of the system in which we are placed, as it has been developed by the experience of our race, and that, in one word, is

SACRIFICE!

Each mind finds that it has conflicting desires, so that one class must constantly be sacrificed to another of superior value. And the rule in reference to individual enjoyment is "always to sacrifice the lesser for the greater good, having reference to the future as much as to the present."

This is the lesson of self-denial and self-control first taught to infancy and childhood, and just as fast as the reasoning powers are developed, the extent of this far-reaching rule is impressed on the mind. At first this rule is applied to the young child himself, and he is trained chiefly to understand what will injure or benefit himself.

But gradually a new and higher law begins to appear. As soon as the child can be made to understand that he is surrounded by other minds, who can suffer and enjoy by the same rules that regulate his happiness, he begins to learn the other and still higher law of sacrifice; and that is, that "the lesser good of the individual is always to be sacrificed to the greater good of the many, having reference always to the future as much as to the present."

Thus life commences with desires that are to be controlled and denied, first by parental power and influence, and next by the intellect and will of the child. And the farther life advances, the more numerous and complicated are the occasions where intellect must judge what is best for self, and what is best for the commonwealth, whose interests must have precedence.

And as self-denial always involves more or less pain, it becomes a fact that happiness is to be gained only by more or less suffering.

Moreover, the greater the good to be gained, the greater is the self-denial and suffering involved in its attainment. Though there are exceptions, this certainly is the general rule.

The history of an individual is a history of self-conquest. It is a history of the self-denial and suffering involved in subjecting the physical to the intellectual, and both to the moral nature.

In like manner, the history of the race, from infancy through its stages of barbarism, heathenism, civilization, and Christianity, is a process of suffering, as the lower principles of humanity are gradually subjected to the higher, while men learn to give up lower gratifications for the more elevated, and to sacrifice the lesser good of the minority to the well-being of the majority.

But the cheering aspect of the case is that the effects of suffering are salutary and tonic. The child who is trained to bear cold bravely, to undergo toil, and to meet crosses, becomes strong in body, and enterprising and energetic in spirit; while a course of ease and indulgence debilitates both mind and body. This is true most decidedly when such a course is cheerfully and voluntarily assumed, and is not forced merely by fear of penalties.

The same is true of communities. Those people who live in a cold climate and on a hard soil become vigorous, industrious, and enterprising; while a soft climate, and such abundance as requires no self-denial and toil, tend to national debility and decay.

Another fact is still more cheering, and that is, that the more a habit of self-control and self-denial is formed, the easier they become, so that what at first was severe and painful may become a pleasure. Such may be the progress of a virtuous mind, that, ultimately, acting right, or conscious rectitude, may become more desirable and agreeable than any other mode of enjoyment.

The history of mankind thus far shows that as a race we are progressing to higher and higher happiness. As we take the history of each nation from its origin, we find it a development of progress from lower to higher degrees of enjoyment. Then we find periods of retrocession and decay. Still, the experience of one age is transmitted more or less to another, so that, on the whole, the race has been gaining, both as to the number of sources of enjoyment received and as to the relative value of the enjoyments sought. The proportion of persons who secure the higher class of enjoyments is certainly greater now than at any former period of the world's history.

Again, the history of the world teaches us that while the race gains in knowledge of the laws of the system and in obedience to them, there are vast multitudes to whom, as individuals, this life is a total failure. Their career has involved such frequent and fatal violations of the laws of the system, that their progress is constantly downward; and, so far as past experience gives any data, we must infer that continued existence would prove a continued downward progress. The glutton, the drunkard, the miser, the sluggard, the licentious, the selfish, malignant, and cruel—all these are binding their spirits with the chains of habit, rendering obedience to the laws they are violating more difficult and improbable.

But then, as a counterbalancing result, it is seen that these losses to individuals are made available to the protection and improvement of the race, and seem indispensable to it; for it is the example of the evils suffered by wrong-doers that is constantly exercising a preservative influence to deter others from similar courses. Thus good is constantly educed from ill, even in the most melancholy cases.

We have seen that it is the desire of good and fear of evil that is the motive power in causing all mental action, and we have the history of man to teach us also what kinds of motives prove the most effective in securing that obedience to law which is the only way to true and perfect happiness.

Our only mode of learning the nature of a thing is to observe how it acts and is acted upon. This is as true of mind as it is of material things. What, then, has the experience of our race taught as to the nature of mind in reference to the kinds and relative influence of motive that secure obedience to law?

In the first place, then, we learn that fear of evil is indispensable. As soon as children in the family, or adults in society, find that no harm comes from gratifying their desires, all restraint is removed. So strong is this necessity, that when natural penalties seem uncertain or far off, parents and civil rulers find it imperative to add those which are more immediate and discernible.

But with this we learn that fear alone is not a healthful stimulus. Children and slaves who have no motives to action but fear of penalties are never so successfully led to obedience as when other more agreeable influences are combined. A mind that is constantly goaded to action by fear of evil becomes torpid, or irritable, or despairing, or all together. The hope of good, or rewards, then, are as indispensable to secure obedience to law as penalties. The proper balancing of the motives of fear of evil and hope of good is the grand art of controlling mind, both as it respects individuals and communities.

In reference to those motives that are pleasurable, there are two classes which it is very important to recognize. The first class are those sources of enjoyment which are sought for the gratification of self without any reference to another. Of this class are the pleasures of the senses, the enjoyment of acquiring knowledge, the exercise of power, the pleasures of taste, and others that need not here be specified.

The second class are those in which the enjoyment is secured by producing happiness for others, and is sought solely in reference to the enjoyment of another. The most decided illustration of this kind is that of a mother who is providing for her offspring. This and all true love has, as its distinctive feature, the pleasure found in conferring happiness on the beloved object. Gratitude, also, has for its main element the desire to make some returns of enjoyment to one who has conferred a favor.

Experience has shown that the most powerful of all motives in securing obedience to law is that of love.

When love is awakened toward a superior mind—when this superior mind knows what are the true rules of right and wrong, and is deeply interested to guide and aid the inferior mind—when this interest is expressed by all winning and attractive methods, nothing has ever yet been found so successful in securing obedience to the rules of right and wrong.

The power of this principle is greatly enhanced when the superior mind is a benefactor. The bestowal of kindness excites a desire to make some returns of good, and when it is seen that such a benefactor is gratified by leading a dependent mind to right action, it proves a most powerful motive to obedience.

Still more is the power of this principle increased when the favors bestowed are purchased by self-denial and suffering on the part of the benefactor. The more noble the benefactor, and the greater the good thus purchased or the evils thus averted, the stronger is the principle of gratitude leading to such returns of obedience.

Again, experience has shown that the advance of the race has been by the agency of teachers and confessors who secured light and elevation to their fellows at the expense of labor, toil, and self-denial of the severest kind.

These are the leading points in the results of human experience as to the nature of mind and the laws of the system of which it is a part.

CHAPTER V.
KNOWLEDGE GAINED BY REASON AND EXPERIENCE AS TO A FUTURE STATE.

We have shown that, independently of a revelation, we have no sources of knowledge except the intuitions reasoning and experience. Hereafter we will, as is often done, include the two first in the term reason.

We have seen what knowledge has been furnished by human experience as to the nature of mind and the laws of the present system in which it is placed. We will now inquire as to the teachings of reason and experience in regard to the future.

As to the question of the existence of the soul after the dissolution of the body, we have only one of the intuitive truths for our guide, viz., "things will continue as they are and have been till there is evidence of a cause for change," or, in other words, things will continue according to past experience till there is some evidence to the contrary.

It has been the uniform experience of mankind that the human mind passes through various states of existence extremely different in nature and continuance. The first state is that in which the mind seems to have no susceptibilities but of sensation, and to be utterly destitute of all the properties of a rational intellect. By a slow and gradual process, new and successive powers seem to be called into existence, and what seemed among the lowest grades of animal existence becomes the glory and lord of this lower world. Yet, in the full exercise of all the faculties of a rational and moral nature, there is a perpetual recurrence of periods in which all evidences of the existence of such faculties cease. In a profound sleep, or in a deep swoon, no proof of rational existence remains either to the being thus affected or to the observers of this phenomenon. As the extreme of old age approaches, the glories of the mind begin to fade away, until man sometimes passes into a state of second childhood. There are times, also, when changes in the material system derange all the power of intellect, and sometimes reduce what was once a rational mind to a state of entire fatuity, and then, again, the mental powers are restored.

The experience of mankind, then, on this subject is this: that the mind is an existence which passes through multiplied and very great changes without being destroyed. The soul continues to exist after changes as great as death, and in many respects similar to it, such, for example, as the event of birth, and of sleep, and we have never known a mind destroyed by such changes. The argument, then, is, that as things will be in agreement with past experience, the soul will continue to go through other changes without being destroyed, unless there is some reason to the contrary.

There can be no reason found to the contrary, for there is no evidence that the event called death is any thing more than a separation of the spirit from its material envelope, nor is there any evidence against the supposition that it may be an event which introduces the mind into a more perfect state of existence.

It appears that losing various parts of the body does not at all affect the operations of mind; that by the perpetual changes that are taking place in the body, every particle of it, after a course of years, is dissevered from its connection with the spirit, and is supplied by other matter. The soul is thus proved to be so connected with a material body that it may lose the whole of it by a slow process without being the least injured, and therefore we have the evidence of experience that it may be separated from the body without any detriment to its powers and faculties.

Analogy also leads to the supposition that death is only a change which introduces the intellectual being into a more perfect mode of existence; for, in past experience, those changes most resembling death, which are not accidental, but according to the ordinary course of nature, are means of renewing and invigorating mental powers. Thus sleep, the emblem of death, is succeeded by renewed powers of activity and consciousness.

The changes of other animals which most resemble death furnish another analogy. The humble worm rolls itself up in its temporary tomb, and, after a short slumber, bursts forth to new life, clothed in more brilliant dyes, endued with more active capacities, and prepared to secure enjoyments before unknown. Reasoning from past experience, then, we should infer the continued existence of the mind after death.

By the same method we arrive at the doctrine of the immortality of the soul. We know that the soul does now exist. We know of no cause that will destroy it. Therefore we infer that it will forever continue to exist.

Whether this argument is satisfactory or not, without a revelation this is all the evidence we have of the soul's continued existence after death, and of the immortality of the soul.

It is the same intuitive truth which (without a revelation) alone furnishes aid in regard to the future destiny of man.

We assume that things are to be in agreement with past experience unless there is evidence to the contrary. No such evidence can be found. What, then, does the past history of our race teach us to expect from the future? These are the most important deductions:

We are to continue under the same laws of the system already established. We are to have the same susceptibilities to pleasure and pain, the same intellect to guide us, the same power of volition to decide our own courses.

We are to be parts of a social system in which every member suffers not only for his own violations of law, but for the sins of others.

The great law of this system is to be forever sustained—the law of SACRIFICE. Every being is to sacrifice the lesser for the greater good in all his individual concerns, and, in regard to the commonwealth, the lesser good of the individual is to be sacrificed to the greater good of the many. In all this, also, reference is to be had to the interests of the future as much as to those of the present, and all violations of this great law are to involve the established penalties.

This system of law is to be administered as it has been in the past. No pity for ignorance, no sympathy for the suffering, will ever suspend the natural penalties for wrong-doing. Obedience, exact, constant, and persevering, is to be the only mode of securing the rewards and escaping the penalties of this system.

Again, mankind, as a race, are to continue to progress, until at some period a certain portion will arrive at the entire and perfect obedience to law which, at the present stage of being, no one has ever yet attained.

But, on the other hand, this progress will be attended with the hopeless and perpetual ruin of multitudes who, as individuals, take a retrograde course, and grow more and more guilty and miserable, while continued existence will serve only to render obedience to law more improbable.

But from this loss to individuals will result protective and purifying influences to the commonwealth, so that thus good will constantly be educed from evil.

Again, the influences that are to secure the advance of the race to perfect obedience are to be, knowledge of laws, fear of penalties, hope of rewards, and love and gratitude toward those who may prove teachers, benefactors, and self-sacrificing friends. These have been the modes in past experience in this world, and therefore we infer them for the future.

CHAPTER VI.
KNOWLEDGE GAINED BY REASON AND EXPERIENCE ALONE CONCERNING THE EXISTENCE, CHARACTER, AND DESIGNS OF THE CREATOR.

We have shown that, in regard to our Creator, his character and designs, without a revelation, we have nothing to guide us but the intuitive truths, and the deductions obtained by their aid from human experience.

We will now inquire as to the amount of knowledge to be secured from these sources.

By the aid of the first intuitive truth, we arrive at the knowledge of some great First Cause or causes, existing without beginning, who created the universe of matter and mind; yet, as has been shown, we are not, by this first principle, enabled to infer any thing as to the unity or plurality of such cause or causes. For aught that this intuitive truth indicates, there may have been a plurality of eternal and self-existent minds, who acted in unity at the creation of all things. Neither can we, by the aid of this truth, arrive at any conclusion as to the character and designs of the author or authors of all created things.

It is by the aid of the fourth intuitive truth that we deduce whatever can be known of the character and designs of the Creator.

This truth teaches us that "design is evidence of an intelligent cause, and that the nature of a design proves the intention and character of the author."

The works of Nature, both of mind and matter, are full of evidence of design, and from this we infer that the Creator is an intelligent cause.

The infinite variety and extent of creation are evidences of the wonderful power of their Author. The fact that all the contrivances of matter and mind are clearly designed to produce enjoyment, while pain is merely the result of a violation of laws which, if obeyed, would secure only happiness—this is evidence of the benevolence of the Creator.

The skill with which all things are formed and combined to secure the ends designed are proofs of the wisdom of the Creator.

Thus, by aid of the fourth intuitive truth, and the world of mind and matter around us, we obtain the result that the Author of Nature is powerful, benevolent, and wise.

But in regard to the use of the word power, as applied to the Creator, one distinction is important. There are things which are contradictory and impossible in the nature of things, so that no one can conceive of them as possible. Thus, to create and not to create at the same time, or to make a mind that is a free agent and at the same time not a free agent, but controlled in volitions by fixed causation as matter is—these and many other things are contradictions or impossibilities.

Now when we say that the Creator can not do these things, we do not limit his power, for almighty power signifies simply and only a power to do all things that are not contradictions and thus absurdities.

This being premised, we are obliged to infer from the history of our race that the Creator, in regard to the existence of evil, is limited either in power, or in benevolence, or in the nature of things.

We arrive at this conclusion thus: We see that evils and suffering, multitudinous and terrific, do exist, and have existed in all ages. In reference to this, only these suppositions are conceivable: the first is, that the Creator is perfectly benevolent, and that a better system, with all the existing good and none of the evil, is conceivable and possible in the nature of things, yet that he had not the power to produce and sustain it.

The second supposition is, that the Creator has the power to produce and sustain a wiser and better system, in which there shall be all the good and none of the evil in the existing one, and yet that he would not do it. This either involves the supposition of a purely malignant being, who enjoys witnessing needless and awful suffering, and prefers it to happiness, or of one who is, like human beings, of a mixed character, and allows evil to exist when self-denying efforts might prevent it.

All the minds of whom we have had any knowledge, although, where their own ease and pleasure are not to be sacrificed, they prefer to make others around them happy, yet ever exhibit a selfish spirit. They all show that they think and plan more for their own private enjoyment than for the general happiness, and thus, to a greater or less extent, are selfish. Reasoning from experience, then, we should infer that the Creator might be of the same character.

The third supposition is, that the Creator has instituted the best system possible in the nature of things, so that there is and will be the MOST POSSIBLE GOOD WITH THE LEAST POSSIBLE EVIL.

We come, then, to the inquiry as to the end or design of the Creator in forming the universe of mind and matter.

To answer this, we must again refer to the fourth intuitive truth, viz., "the nature of a contrivance is proof of the intention or design of the author."

This position is illustrated in many cases in common life. If we find a contrivance which moves the air toward a fire and thus increases the flame, we infer that the author intended to produce this result. If we find a contrivance to show the time of day, such as a sun-dial or clock, we can not help believing that the author intended to secure this end.

Moreover, when we find a curious machine, where every part is arranged on a given design, we naturally inquire how it must be worked to produce the intended result. It may have wheels that, if turned one way, produce the end designed, but, if turned another way, produce exactly the opposite effect.

For example, if the wheels of a mill are arranged aright, or as the author designed, they will grind flour or weave cotton; but if arranged and worked contrary to the design of the author, they will break themselves to pieces and destroy all things around them.

Two inquiries, then, are to be made in reference to the design of the Creator. The first is, What was the end or design for which he made all things? and the second is, What is the right and true method by which this design can be secured?

We shall assume, and attempt to prove in what follows, that the design and ultimate end of the Creator in all his works is to produce the greatest possible happiness with the least possible evil.

Afterward will be exhibited the true and right method for securing this end, so far as we can learn it by reason and experience without a revelation.

In pursuing this plan, the first step will be to exhibit the constitution and laws of mind, as the chief and most wonderful exhibition of the grand design of its Author.

CHAPTER VII.
DIVERSITIES IN SYSTEMS OF MENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

We are now to commence an examination of the various powers and operations of the human mind, for the purpose of illustrating the grand aim of the Author in the creation of all things.

In pursuing this course, it is needful, first, to refer to the apparent diversities in systems of mental philosophy, for the purpose of justifying the classification and the terms to be employed hereafter.

There is nothing more hackneyed than the complaints against metaphysics as abstruse, difficult of comprehension, and unpractical, while the various writers on this science seem more or less divided into opposing schools. Notwithstanding this, there are reasons for maintaining a real agreement in all systems of mental philosophy, at least in essentials, and the following considerations lead to such a conclusion:

In the first place, the nature of the subject investigated would necessarily tend to such a result; for that subject is the human mind, not in its specific peculiarities, but in those generic phenomena which are common to all minds; just as the natural philosopher investigates those properties of matter which are common to a class, and not the specific peculiarities that distinguish individual masses or particles. Now, as those who direct their investigations to mental phenomena are all drawing a picture from the same pattern, it is properly inferred that in the main outlines there must be a general resemblance.

Another reason for this conclusion is the mode of investigation pursued. It is simply observing, first, the phenomena of our own minds, and then comparing them with those of other minds as exhibited in looks, words, and actions, and thus educing generic resemblances and specific differences. It is the generic resemblances only that constitute the faculties and laws of mind which are to be described, classified, and named.

Another reason for inferring such an agreement of systems is the fact, not only that all human minds have common phenomena, but that they have provided themselves with terms to express them, so that they succeed in so far understanding each other as to make comparisons of their mental experience.

The same agreement may be inferred, also, when we consider that mental philosophy treats, not of new ideas, or new combinations of ideas, but of knowledge which is already in the mind. The process to be pursued, then, involves a reference to what we have ourselves experienced; it is an examination of our own feelings, thoughts, and volitions. These are subjects of which we are competent judges, and in regard to which we can be certain as to what is correct or incorrect, more than we can be in reference to any other kind of knowledge.

From these considerations, it is inferred that all systems of mental philosophy will resemble each other just so far as they are true, and that the difference must be mainly in modes of presenting the subject. Inasmuch as writers on mental science are drawing a picture of those experiences of their own minds which are common to the whole race, they must in the main resemble each other, though some may be more imperfect, vague, and disconnected than others.

It may be useful to indicate the causes which have combined to produce perplexity and apparent diversities among writers on mental science.

The first cause is the want of an accurate medium of communication by which one mind can compare its experience with the experience of other minds. In natural science, when the philosopher instructs in reference to the properties of matter, all the terms employed can be made definite by appeals to the senses. For example, if it is not understood what is meant by a pungent smell, such a smell can be produced, and then there is a perfectly clear idea of what is meant by the term. But in mental science, when the term reason or the term understanding is employed, no such perfect and definite mode is at command to illustrate the meaning.

On the contrary, in this science, a single term is often used with various meanings, each use, however, including some common idea, while the extent or limitation in every case is to be determined by the connection. For example, the term heart is used sometimes to signify the chief organ of physical life, sometimes it signifies the mind itself. In a more limited use it denotes the feelings, and in a still more restricted sense it expresses the leading interest of the mind. This involves a constant process of reasoning to decide the meaning of the term.

Another perplexity in mental science has arisen from an unwarrantable use of terms by writers. In some instances new distinctions in mental analysis have been originated, and then terms have been used to express these distinctions which never before were employed in this limited sense. Of course, in reading their works, the mind is confused by meeting terms that in common use recall one signification, when the writer employs them in another.

In other cases, such writers have formed new classifications of mental phenomena, and employed new terms to express them, and thus an impression is made that something new has been discovered, or a new system evolved. For example, Brown arranges the intellectual operations of mind in but two general classes, and calls them simple suggestion and relative suggestion. But his work, in this respect, presents only a new classification and new terms, but no new ideas.

Another difficulty in mental science has arisen from the fact that many writers on this subject have failed in accurate analysis of the phenomena of mind, and, of course, have not succeeded in conveying clear and distinct ideas to their readers. For example, some metaphysicians have never discriminated between desire and choice, but have written as if they were the same thing. Thus they have affirmed things which were true in reference to one of these mental acts, and false in regard to the other. This has produced mistiness of apprehension or false conceptions in their readers. Some understand the writer one way and dispute his positions, others understand him another way and defend them, because what he says is true of one act and false of the other, while both acts are spoken of as one and the same.

Meantime the great mass of readers have never been accustomed to any accurate analysis, or even to any fixed observation of their own mental states. They are, therefore, unprepared to detect these defects in the writers on mental science, and are easily confused and perplexed.

Another difficulty has arisen from false ideas as to the origin and proper use of words. In most minds an impression has been generated that there is an inherent meaning belonging to the words of a language. They do not consider that in the formation of language the ideas come first, and that the words are only conventional signs which men agree in using to express these ideas. Writers often speak of words which by long usage have been connected with certain ideas, as if they ought not to be so employed. They do not consider that the fact that men have used a word for a given idea, and understand each other, is the very thing which establishes its proper use and meaning.

If, then, in all time and in all nations, mankind have classified and given names to their mental states, the classification and the names are true and proper, and no philosopher should claim that these are incorrect. The object of language is to enable men to communicate their ideas, and that language is best which enables them to do it the most extensively and the most accurately.

It is maintained, then, that there is a system of mental philosophy which is understood by all mankind; that there are words in common use by which it can be clearly and definitely described and expressed, either by single terms or by circumlocution; that it is recognized in the Bible; and that, substantially, it is the system taught by all writers on mental science, some teaching one portion and some another. It is maintained, also, that no such writer has taught any thing of any importance that is true which can not be translated into the language of common life, so as to be readily comprehended even by persons of ordinary capacity and education.

There is no difficulty in leading any mind of ordinary capacity to notice the several classes of mental operations introduced in this work, and in all nations and languages these facts are recognized and terms are provided to express them.

Some persons object to speaking of any mental phenomena as states of mind, because it is claimed that the mind is active in all. Thus sensations are claimed to be acts of mind instead of passive states caused by material objects. In regard to this and various other objections urged against this mode of classification and nomenclature, it may be remarked that the thing aimed at is simply, by means of a description, to point out what is meant. When this is understood, it does not change our idea to give it a name. We know by our own experience what it is to have a sensation, and calling it a state or an act does not alter our idea of the fact.

In using words, all we have to do is to convey our meaning, either by description or illustration, and when we have done this, to select a word to express it; and that word is best for this purpose which would recall this meaning to the greatest number of persons who have previously used it in this sense.

For this reason, it is most proper to use terms employed in common life to express the phenomena treated of in mental science, instead of instituting new terms, which, to most persons, have never had the intended ideas connected with them.

This method is adopted in the following pages; but it is important to remember that, while these words are used both in common life and by metaphysical writers with the meaning here indicated, they are often used with other significations. Thus the word to perceive is used not only to signify the act of gaining ideas by the senses, but any act of mind in noticing truths of any kind, either mental or external. So to conceive and to perceive are often used interchangeably as meaning the same thing.

But this does not render it necessary to seek any new terms to express these ideas. All that is needful is to indicate that in classing and describing mental phenomena we restrict ourselves to one exact and uniform use of these terms, and this use is indicated in the description or definition given.

CHAPTER VIII.
CLASSIFICATION AND DESCRIPTION OF THE MENTAL POWERS.

We now proceed to the classification and description of the mental powers.

Not only all writers on mental science, but the most common writers and speakers, recognize a general division of mental operations, which is expressed by the terms intellect, feeling, and choice. We think, we feel, and we choose. Even the young child learns to comprehend these three grand divisions of the mental phenomena.

To this most general division, in this work, are applied the terms the intellectual powers, the susceptibilities, and the will. These terms are selected because they are the most common ones.