case there is no end to the incongrui, tiesand one looks in vain for any connexion between the devil and the punishment inflicted on the serpent. We can easily explain man's weaknesses from our knowledge of the human heart; they flow, alas, too abundantly from this source to render necessary any recourse to the devil in order to account for our sins.'-pp. 308-311.

It is easy to see, that, from the brevity of this statement it is open to objection and cavil, and that a much more extended exposition would be necessary to do justice to the idea. For ourselves, however, we confess that we have very little confidence in the success of any attempt to draw a complete and consistent allegory from this much vexed passage.

ART. VIII. The Constitution of Man considered in relation to External Objects. By GEORGE COMBE. BosCarter & Hendee. 1829. 12mo. pp. 310.

ton.

THE idea that the sciences border upon and run into each other, which is expressed by the popular phrase, 'circle of the sciences,' is not altogether a picture of the imagination. Little as its true force may be suspected by the multitude, it nevertheless aptly expresses the kind of connexion between them, and the course which the mind must pursue in order to behold the whole extent and depth of the common foundation on which they rest. But the shortness of life, the limited nature of our powers, and a variety of other causes, which impose on us the necessity of constant and unwearying attention to the main object of our inquiries, if we would obtain any valuable results, are continually making us lose sight of this great truth, and imagine in the sciences an independence that they do not possess. We are too apt to forget, if we ever entertained the thought, that the domain of human knowledge, vast as it is, is in fact but one; that its thousand paths are incessantly leading into one another, and that its divisions are artificial, made for the convenience of erring and limited beings. And as if the more effectually to perpetuate the neglect in question, the beginner in life is exhorted to an exclusive devotion of his time and talents

to the particular object of his studies, and to reject all other thoughts from his mind, if he means his acquirements to be solid and his investigations to be profound. If he would step beyond the little circle thus designed to confine his excursive powers, and range occasionally in the immense and inexhaustible field lying around it, he is said to be frittering himself away on a multiplicity of objects, with almost the certainty of gaining nothing but superficial and useless results. But, talk and act as we choose, still the sciences are closely and variously connected together; and whether this connexion depend on any similarity in the objects they embrace, or in the general principles of research and philosophizing that they acknowledge, it will equally engage the attention of the inquirer who measures his attainments, not so much by the number of ideas he possesses, as by that of the relations which he discovers between them. No science has ever been created that has not thrown light on other sciences, and some have derived their principal interest from this relation. Our advancement, therefore, in any department of knowledge, forbids this insulated and exclusive method of study, and enjoins the necessity of enlarged and liberal views. As we are obliged to contemplate the several portions of an edifice together, from turret to foundationstone, and gain an idea of the general proportions and harmony of the whole structure, before we can appreciate the fitness and beauty of its particular parts; so likewise in order to obtain the most perfect knowledge of any branch of science, we must, to a certain degree, become acquainted with the nature and objects and general principles of all the

rest.

No study has been pursued more in this insulated manner, and consequently been followed by fewer successful results, than that of metaphysics, or the philosophy of mind. Starting, as it has, from the general position, that every individual has within himself all the materials of this study, and that careful observation of the action of his own mind, without calling in any foreign aid whatever, is all that is necessary to gain the object of his search, it would evince no extraordinary discernment to tell where and how its inquiries must end. This is the crying sin of metaphysics, the foundation of its thousand systems, all equally perfect and equally false,― of its jarrings, its confusions, its mysticism, its eternal disputes about truth.

It saw, for it could not well help it, a scale of beings stretching through all nature, touching, at one extremity, the humblest zoöphyte, and reaching, at the other, a place little lower than the angels, exhibiting faculties, though few in number, yet diversified to suit every modification of rank and circumstance; and, with a strange perversity, it selected one from the countless series, gave to him its exclusive attention, and shut its eyes on every other. If partial views, false reasoning, wrong conclusions have been the fruitful harvest of metaphysical labors, we have here most abundant cause for the result.

The present century has witnessed the rise and astonishing progress of a science which professes to have corrected the errors and supplied the deficiencies of the old metaphysics, and on this, as well as on other ground, advances claims to general and candid examination. Mr. Combe's work is

the first that has come under our observation, in which these claims have been substantiated to any extent, and his views,

it

may be proper to remark, are not so much a necessary part of Phrenology, as they are legitimate deductions from its discoveries. But before noticing them, it may be well to expose more fully what we consider the principal sources of error in metaphysics as generally studied, though we would not be understood to mean that its results are entirely destitute of valuable truths. We mean only that it is burdened with numerous and gross errors, and that these have arisen chiefly from the vicious manner in which it has been studied.

In the first place, then, a mistake has been universally committed in regard to the proper objects of metaphysical inquiry. It has long been the habit of philosophers, until it has become a vulgar distinction, to divide man into two separate and almost independent portions, mind and body. The study of the former has been exclusively assumed by the metaphysician and regarded in all ages as holding the highest and noblest rank; while that of the latter has been consigned to the anatomist, and invested in the popular view with an air of disgust and fearful apprehension. Thus early estranged from each other, with principles and ends of apparently the most opposite character, the powerful light which they might otherwise have mutually afforded, can be hardly recognised in the few glimmering rays that at distant intervals they have interchanged. Positive and well-marked as this

division at first sight appears, it is difficult, as in all cases of a close connexion, to point out exactly where the province of the one ends, and the other begins; but, as we are not at liberty now to insist on rigorous distinctions, it will answer our present purpose to fall in with the popular notions, and regard them as established by nature, and their limits easily defined. It is admitted, and seems in fact to be the boast of metaphysics, that in one respect, at least, mind and matter are in the same predicament, that it is only their properties that become cognizable to us, and are made the subject of our investigation; though occurring, as both do, in the same individual, it is not easy to determine in every instance, which belong to one and which to the other; more especially, too, as no general rule is given us for deciding in doubtful cases. Strange to say, however, with the very breath in which this admission is made, the possession of mind is accorded to one species alone, and positively denied to every other in the whole animal kingdom. Yet since it is with certain properties only that we are concerned, it is indifferent to us when and where they are manifested; and if they unequivocally exist in the inferior animals, they become at once legitimate objects of metaphysical inquiry. That they do or do not exist in these beings, would seem to be as easy to establish, as the same fact in regard to magnetism or elasticity in a particular kind of matter. And yet when we say that no little diversity of opinion has always prevailed on this point, accordingly as men have been influenced by preconceived notions, or a regard to the consequences of their belief, we give but a faint idea how much more devotedly the idols of the den, as Bacon quaintly terms them, have been reverenced, than the sacred cause of truth. Descartes and his disciples denied every mental attribute to the brute creation, not surely because, after a proper examination, they could not be found, but that such attributes would suppose the existence of mind which is necessarily immaterial and indestructible, and brutes be regarded as immortal and responsible beings. The legitimate tendency of such a belief is strikingly manifested in the reply that Malebranche made to Fontenelle, who reproached him one day with cruelty for suddenly turning upon a dog that was fawning around him, and giving him a violent kick that sent him off howling with pain; Dost thou not know that he cannot feel?' Locke, however, who was greatly in

advance of his contemporaries, and in many respects of his successors, entertained more rational notions on this subject, and believed that the lower animals might sometimes reason.

But, not to rely on great names, it is sufficient to appeal to observation and plain common sense for a satisfactory solution of the question in hand. As the great proof of the existence of mind is drawn from the fact, that certain properties exist which cannot be referred to matter, it is a perfectly logical conclusion that a single one of these properties, it is indifferent how simple, is evidence enough of the presence of what we are pleased to call mind. Now that brutes can remember events for no inconsiderable time, and from what is termed an association of ideas, it is presumed no one will wish to dispute, and as little to deny, that these powers belong to mind and not matter. The distinctness and fidelity too, with which some facts are remembered by certain brute animals, strongly prove the activity and strength of this faculty, and entirely preclude the idea of its being merely the immediate result of impressions made upon the senses. Many of the acts which they perform indicative of design, are, undoubtedly, owing to their desire of imitation; but, preserving the condition of the question which we have just laid down, this very love of imitation must be considered an intellectual property. No one, of course, would think of comparing the mind of brutes in elevation and capacity with that of man, though there are not wanting instances where some of the mental operations have been conducted with singular accuracy and fidelity. Some have been able to remember the succession of the days of the week, a power, which, if some accounts of the savage state may be trusted, has not been always attained very readily by man. It cannot be doubted also, that they have sometimes understood language, not a few words, but a connected train of discourse, and have consequently performed a variety of mental operations. We do not imagine they can make syllogisms, or establish general principles; but that they have the power of reflection, is indicated by the facility with which they accommodate their actions to unexpected emergencies. Many observations in proof of this fact might be adduced were we writing an artiticle on natural history; but enough has been said to warrant the general conclusion, that the inferior animals present us with numerous manifestations which must be classed with 50

VOL. XII.

N. S. VOL. VII. NO. III.