CHAPTER II.

DESIRES ARISING FROM THE PHYSICAL CONSTITUTION.

Nature of Appetite as compared with other Forms of Desire.—These are usually called appetites, in distinction from those desires which are founded in the nature of the mind. They are, however, properly, a class of desires though not always so ranked by philosophical writers. They are feelings which arise always in view of some good, real, or supposed, which has its adaptation to the wants of our nature, but which is not in present possession. This absence creates a longing for the object, which longing, so far as it relates to the mind at all, and not merely to the muscular sensation—as of hunger, etc.—is purely a desire. It differs from the other desires, in the respect mentioned, that it takes its rise from the constitution and wants of the body, rather than of the mind. It is not, however, on this account, the less a mental state, a psychological phenomenon.

Ambiguity of the Term.—The term appetite is ambiguous; sometimes denoting the uneasy physical sensations, as hunger, thirst, etc., which are conditions of the muscular and nervous systems, and not states of the mind; sometimes the mental condition which results from this, and which is properly called desire. It is only with the latter that psychology has to do; the former fall within the province of physiology.

Enumeration of the more important, and the End accomplished by each.—The desires, of the class to which we now refer, are various, comprehending all those which immediately relate to, and arise from, the various bodily wants. The more important are the desire of food, and of sex, to which may be added the desire of action, and of repose. The constitution of our physical system is such as to lay the foundation of these desires. They pertain to our animal nature, and, as such, have a most important part to perform in the economy of life. They all relate, directly or indirectly, to the continuance of life, whether that of the individual, or of the species. Each of the appetites, or animal desires, as we prefer to call them, has its own specific object to accomplish, with reference to this general end. The desire of food looks to the preservation of individual life and vigor, by repairing the waste which the physical system is continually undergoing. The desire of muscular exertion and repose has the same general design. The desire of sex has for its object the preservation of the species.

Importance of these Principles.—Not only has each of these desires a specific end to accomplish, but it is an end which, so far as we can see, would not otherwise be accomplished. Reason might suggest the expediency of taking food to sustain the system, or of resting at intervals from exertion, in order to recruit our exhausted energies; but were it not for the desires that nature has implanted in us demanding positive gratification, and reminding us when we transgress those laws which govern our physical being, how often, in the pressure of business, should we neglect the due care of the body, and deprive ourselves of needed food, or needed rest, or needed muscular exertion. Were it not for the demands of appetite, how imperfectly should we judge either as to the proper proportion, or the proper quantity, and quality, of that refreshment which the body needs, and which food, and rest, and muscular exercise supply. And the same may be said of the other animal desires. They are necessary to the economy of life, by supplying a motive which would not otherwise exist, and thus securing a result not otherwise obtained. The principles to which we refer, are not, therefore, to be regarded as of little importance because relating to the wants of the body, and common to man with the animal races, generally; or the contrary, they are of the highest importance and value; a due regard to them is essential to the highest well-being, and the neglect or abuse of them brings its own sure and speedy punishment. To be ashamed of our animal nature, is to be ashamed of ourselves, and of the constitution that God gave us; to think lightly of it, is to despise the divine wisdom and benevolence. It is no part of an intelligent and rational nature to contemn the casket that contains all its treasure. Even were that casket worthless in itself, it would be valuable for the office it performs; much more when it is itself a piece of rare workmanship, curiously and wonderfully wrought.

Not selfish.—The appetites are not to be regarded as essentially selfish, in their nature. They relate, indeed, to our own personal wants; so do all our desires, and, in some measure, all our sensibilities. But when exercised within due bounds, they are not inconsistent with the rights and happiness of others, but the rather promotive of these results; and, therefore, not in the proper sense of the term are they selfish propensities. Their ultimate aim is not the securing of a certain amount of enjoyment to the individual by their gratification, but the securing of a certain end, not otherwise reached, by means of that enjoyment. They are to be set down as original and implanted principles of our nature, rather than as selfish and acquired propensities.

Dangerous Tendency.—I would, by no means, however overlook the fact that the animal desires are of dangerous tendency when permitted to gain any considerable control over the mind, and that they require to be kept within careful bounds. They are liable to abuse. When suffered to become predominant over other and higher principles of action, when, from subjection and restraint, they rise to the mastery, and govern the man, then sinks the man to the level of the brute, and there is presented that saddest spectacle of all that the sun beholds in his course about the earth, a mind endowed with capacity of reason and intelligence, but enslaved to its own base passions. There is no slavery so degrading as that, none so hopeless. The most earnest efforts, the best and most sincere purposes and resolutions are too often made in vain, and the mind, struggling, to little purpose, with its own propensities, and its own vitiated nature, is swept on by the fearful current of its ungoverned, and now ungovernable, appetites, as the ship over which neither sail nor helm have any further power, is swept along in swift and ever lessening circles by the fatal maëlstrom.

Curious Law of our Nature.—It seems to be the law of our nature, that while our active principles gain strength by exercise, the degree of enjoyment or of suffering which they are capable of affording, diminishes by repetition. This has been clearly stated by Mr. Stewart. It follows from this, that while by long and undue indulgence of any of the animal desires, the gratification originally derived from such indulgence is no longer capable of being enjoyed, the desire itself may be greatly increased, and constantly increasing, in its demands. It is hardly possible to conceive a condition more wretched and miserable, than that of a mind compelled thus to drain the bitter dregs of its cup of pleasure, long since quaffed, and to repeat, in endless round, the follies that no longer have power to satisfy, even for the brief moment, the poor victim of their enchantment. The drunkard, the glutton, the debauchee, afford illustrations of this principle.