MAN'S KNOWLEDGE OF THE QUALITIES OF MATTER OBTAINED THROUGH THE
MEDIUM OF THE SENSES.
If we reflect upon man, beginning with the savage, and ending with the
philosopher, we shall find, that although the mental difference, or
rather the extent of acquired knowledge possessed by each respectively,
is very great, that the little the one possesses, and all that the
other may boast of, are based upon certain simple principles, seized
upon by the mind through the medium of the senses, and made more or
less the subjects of consideration and research.
If the philosopher can display a mass of knowledge of which the savage
is ignorant, the savage can show to the philosopher that his mind in
some things is more ignorant than his own. Both have used their senses;
both have examined and reflected; both have accumulated a store of
information, which they turn to account: but the savage cares only
for that which enables him to enjoy animal existence. He, therefore,
investigates the habits of the animals around him, and the nature of
the plants; he tames some of the former, he cultivates some of the
latter; he stores up provisions, he invents rude weapons; he builds
kraals, or huts; he fashions boats, kajaks, or proas; he employs
fire; and though he cannot discuss the laws of caloric, he knows
many of them practically. In fact, his senses are to him the inlets
of ideas, without any abstruse cogitation. He cannot but acquire
knowledge through his senses, but he labours to acquire no more than
is subservient to his present interest. To the philosopher, the senses
are also the inlets of ideas; but then he is thereby led to abstruse
cogitation, to experiments, and reiterations upon these, forming
theories to be rejected or adopted, as laborious investigation may
determine.
And wherefore?--Not contented with the vacuity of mere animal
enjoyments, he antedates his spiritual existence, and while yet on
earth soars to other worlds, or dives into the profound mysteries
of nature. Between the rude savage and the philosopher there are
innumerable gradations; yet the rude savage, if cultivated, might
become the philosopher--and why?--Because, though mental powers, like
bodily powers, differ, the mental anatomy, like the corporeal, is on
the same plan; and, figuratively speaking, the muscles of the former
may become by exercise as developed as the muscles of the latter. To
what fields, then, of knowledge are the senses avenues--and avenues,
because they are adapted to the condition of the globe we inhabit,
and because the impressions which they receive are seized upon by
the mind, being there alone made palpable; and because the mind, by a
reflex action, thence derives ideas, and combines and analyzes them.
The higher animals possess the same senses as man; and, it may be
asked, Why do they not gain a similar knowledge to that which man
acquires? We have already said, that the higher animals possess
something which cannot but be termed mind, since they have passions
and affections, memory, etc., which are qualities of mind, and not of
matter. But, then, their mind is not only inferior in degree to that
of man, but different in its anatomical construction. Certain animals,
moreover, are inferior to others, and among animals of the same species
there are different degrees of mental as well as of bodily force.
Here, however, we can only generalize. Let it suffice, then, that we
adduce for the purpose of illustration an animal with which we are all
familiar--a domesticated animal, capable of a high degree of education,
and which man has trained to the most various and opposite purposes--we
allude to that attached servant of our race, the dog. Let it stand as a
type of the higher quadrupeds.
That the dog remembers, and even to a certain extent reasons, cannot,
we think, be contradicted. A shepherd's dog not only obeys its master's
directions, but of its own accord will keep the sheep together,
prevent them from wandering out of the right track, search for them
when buried in the snow, watch over them at night, and defend them
against the incursions of the wolf. The sportsman's dog, when he
sees his master take down his fowling-piece, examine the locks, and
equip himself for the field, is quite aware of the result of these
proceedings, and manifests unequivocal symptoms of pleasure. Dogs,
moreover, may be taught to beg, to fetch and carry, to feign themselves
dead, and continue motionless until the word of command be given, and
to take their part in a scenic representation. There are, indeed,
numerous authentic instances on record of dogs having acted with
astonishing sagacity, and which prove not only memory, but a train
of reasoning carried out with singular precision. In such instances,
we cannot say that the animals are instinct-directed, because the
actions performed are out of the common course of events, and are only
occasional; every dog, under the same circumstances, would not act in
anything like the same manner.
There are, however, bounds beyond which the most intelligent dog
cannot pass; and why?--the anatomy of his mind is different from that
of man. His senses, that of touch excepted, are as acute as those of
man, some far more so, but his reasoning powers are confined within a
small circle. For example, education does not really elevate the dog
over the wild packs of his own species--it rather rivets the chain
which binds him to man as his lord; it enfeebles his instinct, and
renders him at once more dependent and more useful; it places him in
many different, and in a certain sense, unnatural spheres of action; it
renders him a shepherd, a guard, a hunter, but it adds not positively
to his information; he has no ideas of the beautiful or the sublime--of
truth, of virtue, and vice--of humanity, pity, charity; he reflects
not that death is his doom, even though he sees from time to time his
companions expiring around him. It is, in fact, first, because the most
elevated ideas or reasonings of the dog are merely simple, and those
within a narrow compass; and, secondly, because the dog is utterly
incapable of forming any abstract idea that education cannot elevate it
above itself. It has not man's mental anatomy. The rudest savage can
devise the bow, and the spear, and various other implements; he can
fashion them because he has hands, but his hands are only the servants
of his mind; had not his mind been what it is, his bodily organization
would have been otherwise, but still in just harmony. In the savage lie
the dormant germs of lofty intellect, and in his line, at some future
generation, may a Milton, a Shakspere, a Newton, arise; sage poets,
statesmen, and philanthropists, men of whom England boasts--England,
whose children are the descendants of a semi-barbaric horde, which
spread ruin in its westward progress.
But what the dog was in the earliest ages, what it was in the times
of classic history, that it continues to be; on the contrary, man can
emerge from a savage to a civilized state; acquire new wants and supply
them; improve upon first principles, and take step after step in the
pursuit of knowledge; add improvement to improvement; begin by building
a frail coracle, and then launch his steam-ship on the water--begin by
erecting a low kraal, and then erect the palace of Cæsar, or the temple
of Athens.
Reflex operations of the mind are denied to brutes--even to the dog,
an animal which the Almighty evidently created for the special service
of man: hence, though the avenues to their minds are the same, reason
has but a feeble grasp upon the sensations which there enter; and
that mysterious power, quality, or impulse, which we term instinct,
rises predominant, and leads to operations which in man could only be
the result of reflection and experience. Yet, as we have said, the
actions of the dog, and we may add of the elephant, the horse, and
other animals, are not all instinctive, neither do all the actions
of man proceed from a train of reasoning, for some of his, even,
are instinctive: the love of offspring on the part of the mother is
entirely instinctive in its source.
It is, then, easy to see how it is that even the highest brute,
with a mind limited as we have described, and with instincts which
guide in the place of mind, can never improve or add to any store of
knowledge, can never conceive one abstract idea--such as eternity,
infinity, matter, space, etc.--and can never investigate the laws
of creation--can, in fact, be only what it is. The utmost extent of
something like knowledge which the most intelligent and sagacious
dog acquires, dies with it, and its successor has to learn all for
itself. As for language, in the true meaning of the word, of what use
would it be to brutes? Among the highest, as far as the necessity of
communication extends, cries or modulations of tone and certain actions
suffice to convey a distinct meaning; among the lowest, there is no
necessity even for utterance, and there is no sense of hearing, nor
even of vision. Language supposes a mind constructed like that of man,
and as he emerges from a rude to a cultivated state, in like proportion
will his language increase in copiousness and perspicuity, if not in
force.
Let us here, without bewildering our reader in a maze of metaphysics,
just glance at a few of the characteristics or faculties of mind,
briefly anatomizing them, in order that we may clearly exhibit the
mental distinction between man and the higher orders of beasts, by way
of showing what the mind in each case derives from the inlets of the
senses.
1. _A Knowledge of Self-existence, or Personality._--This knowledge
appears to us to be rather instinctive than the result of reflection,
as some believe; we know intuitively that we exist, because we feel,
because we see and hear, because we move, because we hope and fear;
nor will all the arguments which Berkeley or his disciples can adduce,
convince any person that he exists only in idea.
That animals of the higher grades, at least, have this knowledge is
very evident; gregarious habits, mutual recognition, the watch and
ward system, characteristic of so many species both among mammalia and
birds--a thousand circumstances which our readers may call to mind,
prove it. We need not insist upon the subject. It is a feeling rather
than a portion of knowledge; it is intuitive, and experienced alike
by the ploughman at his work, by the horses who labour in the furrow,
and the busy rooks which follow in their track. Where there is fear,
or pleasure, or pain, or desire, there must self-consciousness be--a
feeling of self-existence. We have no reason to believe that plants
possess this feeling.
2. _Memory._--Memory is a mental exercise, or faculty, of the greatest
importance to man; it is in constant requisition; without it our
intellectual improvement would be confined within very narrow limits.
Our acquirement of language, and of the rules of sciences and arts,
depend upon this faculty, and it is strengthened by habitual exercise.
Between memory and recollection, there is a slight shade of difference.
A man may say, "I remember the events of the year 1848"--"I recollect
such an event, now that you mention it." Events may be recollected
after being forgotten, and often are so in illness--nay, forgotten
languages have sometimes been fluently spoken. It often happens--why
so, we cannot say--that circumstances or events, long passed from
the mind, present themselves suddenly to it with extreme vividness,
and are thenceforth remembered; but oftener does it happen, that
the sight of some object, or that a sound, a note, a tune, a word,
recalls to the mind forgotten events, bygone circumstances, hopes
passed away, pleasures long fled, feelings long quiescent. This
species of recollection has been called by some writers the "power
of association." It certainly depends upon an association of ideas,
which, on the key-note being struck, pass involuntarily through the
mind; a sight or sound will often call to mind, with singular rapidity,
a vision of other years, or of scenes far distant, towards which the
heart intently yearns. Witness the effects of the air of the Ranz de
Vache upon the Swiss soldiers in Napoleon's army. Recollection is often
the result of attention. We remember a certain event, but forget the
year in which it occurred; we direct our thoughts to the subject, we
compare circumstance with circumstance, date with date, until at last--
"It breaks upon the mind, and all is clear."
That brutes possess memory is indisputable; indeed, we might fill
pages with instances of the power of memory in animals, some rather
startling; but as common every-day observation enforces the fact upon
almost every one, we need not insist upon it. However, by way of
adding interest to a disquisition some may deem dry, we will introduce
the following anecdote, related by Mr. Corse, in his Observations on
the Natural History of the Elephant:[6] "In June, 1787, Fâttra Mungul,
a male elephant, taken the year before, was travelling in company with
other elephants towards Chittagong, laden with a tent and some baggage
for our accommodation on the journey. Having come upon a tiger's track,
which elephants discover readily by the smell, he took fright and ran
off to the woods, in spite of the efforts of his driver. On entering
the wood, the driver saved himself by springing from the elephant,
and clinging to the branch of a tree under which he was passing. When
the elephant had got rid of his driver, he soon contrived to shake
off his load. As soon as he ran away, a trained female was dispatched
after him, but could not get up in time to prevent his escape. She,
however, brought back his driver, and the load he had thrown off, and
we proceeded without any hope of ever seeing him again. Eighteen months
after this, when a herd of elephants had been taken, and had remained
several days in the inclosure, till they were enticed into the outlet,
there tied and led out in the usual manner, one of the drivers, viewing
a male elephant very attentively, declared he resembled the one which
had run away. This excited the curiosity of every one to go and look at
him; but when any person came near, the animal struck at him with his
trunk, and in every respect appeared as wild and outrageous as any of
the other elephants. At length, an old hunter coming up, and examining
him narrowly, declared he was the very elephant that had made his
escape about eighteen months before. Confident of this, he boldly rode
up to him on a tame elephant, ordering him to lie down, and pulling him
by the ear at the same time. The animal seemed quite taken by surprise,
and instantly obeyed the word of command, with as much quickness as the
ropes with which he was tied permitted; uttering at the same time a
peculiar shrill squeak through his trunk, as he had formerly been known
to do, by which he was immediately recognised by every person who had
ever been acquainted with this peculiarity." The same observer informs
us, that another elephant, a female, taken in 1765, was turned loose in
1767, and retaken in 1782. She then recollected the customs and words
of command learned during her former bondage; she laid herself down at
the command of her driver, he fed her from his seat, gave her his stick
to hold, which she took with her trunk, put it into her mouth, and
returned it as she was directed, and as she had been accustomed to do.
[6] Phil. Trans., 1799.
3. _Attention._--Attention is an abstraction of the mind from a
multifarious variety of trifles, or circumstances, and an energetic
direction of it to one subject, or object. In attention many, if not
all, the senses may be engaged. For example, a botanist gathers a
flower; its beauty, the form and substance of its petals, their colour,
its aroma, the honey-dew of its nectary, the peculiarity of its calyx,
and other qualities, appeal to the mind through the senses of sight,
smell, taste, and feeling. He has to describe this flower--he fixes his
mind upon it, and puts forth a graphic delineation in apt and concise
language. The ploughman is at work, and the sower of grain follows
him--both give their whole mind to their duty. The critic (oh, word of
fear!) gives his attention to the matter under his revision; and so
does the cook, when preparing a _recherché_ dish on the composition
of which he prides himself. And does not the tiger, crouching in
ambush, give attention to his object, stimulated in the meantime by
hope? Who has not observed multitudes of cases, affording examples of
attention in brutes? In fact, attention is a faculty displayed by all
brutes, especially by those which lead a life of rapine, for upon its
exercise depends their daily support. But man alone can direct his
attention to things intellectual, abstruse, or religious. The reason
is evident--the brute is incapable of abstract ideas, but quite awake
to its own present necessities. The high realms of thought belong to
man alone, of all terrestrial beings; but in how far higher a degree to
those spiritual existences, those angels of light, which surround the
throne of God, and who, contemplating with amazement the finished work
of salvation, exclaim, "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive
power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory,
and blessing!" nay, till we mingle with these transcendent beings, the
powers of our mind will be pressed down beneath a load of clay; then
all that was dark shall be made clear, and with angels we shall join
in saying, "Amen: blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and
honour and power and might be unto our God for ever and ever!"
But we are told that there are angels "which kept not their first
estate," and which are reserved "unto judgment of the great day;"
namely, Satan and his apostate subordinates. Fallen though they be,
their brightness "has not lost all its original splendour;" but they
exercise their high powers in tempting and seducing to his eternal ruin
man, whom Satan by his wiles has already crushed, and robbed of his
original innocence. Let us strive against the tempter, the deceiver,
who lays luxury, licentiousness, gold, fame, power, before his willing
slaves, trying them on every point, and inducing too many to fall
irrecoverably. But God's thoughts are higher than our thoughts, or
than the thoughts of man's crafty adversary; and in wisdom he devised
that mighty scheme, through which rescue and pardon are freely granted
to all who accept the invitation of the Redeemer, "Come unto me, all
ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest;" "All,"
he says, "that the Father giveth me shall come to me; and him that
cometh to me I will in no wise cast out," John vi. 37. Jesus is the
Conqueror, and death is swallowed up in victory. Flee, then, from the
city of destruction; and though the slough of despond or the valley of
humiliation be before, press forward, awakened sinner, to the heavenly
Jerusalem! on that let your thoughts be placed.
4. _Comparison._--The direct comparison of one object with another,
with a view towards the acquisition of information, is exercised
by man alone of all animals; but that superficial and involuntary
comparison which leads to the simple _distinction_ of things, as of
land from water, or trees from houses, is common both to animals and
man. _Choice_ supposes the exercise of comparison, in a low degree, and
this a bird displays in the selection of a spot for its nest, and the
beaver in that of a site for its dam and village. In both these cases,
however, _instinct_ impels to the labour, and supplies the place of
experience.
5. _Knowledge of Cause and Effect._--A knowledge of the connexion
between cause and effect is the result of experience alone. We thus
accumulate a number of facts, and by reasoning upon those facts, can
infer with certainty what would be the result under such or such
contingencies. That brutes gain information to a certain extent by
experience is very plain. We have seen a monkey break nuts by hammering
them upon a stone--we have seen the orang try to pick the lock of its
door with a bit of stick--we know instances of horses disengaging
themselves from their headstall, unbolting the stable door, and making
off to the pasture; a cat in our possession was accustomed to leap up
and open the latch of the kitchen door, whenever she wished to enjoy a
stroll. We might multiply examples, but so many will suggest themselves
to the reader's mind, that we may spare ourselves the task.
With a knowledge of the connexion between cause and effect is
associated that of _power_. Give me where to stand, said Archimedes,
and I could move the world. Man's natural powers are very limited, but
his comprehensive mind enables him to overcome the most formidable
obstacles; to bore through the mountain, to uproot it from its base,
and scatter its fragments over the plain; to over-arch rivers and arms
of the sea with iron pathways; to travel as rapidly as most birds
fly; to upheave ponderous masses of stone, and to compress light
and flocculent materials until they become solid and heavy. But man
accomplishes all this and far more, not by his own bodily powers, but
by machinery of various kinds, and of various degrees of simplicity or
complexity; nay, he cannot even cultivate the soil, except by the aid
of implements, that is, simple machines.
Brutes entirely depend upon their own bodily powers, and gain a
knowledge of the extent of those powers by experience. An old hunter
will never attempt a leap which he knows he cannot accomplish--a
young, fiery horse will make a dash at it, and perhaps fail; if he
succeed, his dependence upon himself will be confirmed; on the other
hand, should he not succeed, it is more than probable that he will lose
all self-confidence, and therefore be henceforward useless for the
chase.
The elephant skilfully uses its tusks as levers, in the uprooting of
trees; and when the megatherium and mylodon wrestled with the noblest
productions of their primeval forests in South America, they applied in
the best manner their forces and the means at their command. What is
this but a knowledge (limited, we allow) of the relationship between
cause and effect? The camel, when overladen, utters loud cries,
and refuses to rise at the command of the driver; this was also a
peculiarity of the llama, when that animal was exclusively the carrier
of the Andes.
With respect to a knowledge of power, as regards ourselves personally,
or as displayed by brutes, we cannot help thinking that much depends
on an _instinctive perception_, added to, no doubt, by experience.
All animals, from man downwards, apply their force according to their
conformation; the horse kicks--the lion strikes with his terrible
paw--the hyena seizes with his jaw--man uses his arms; but man also
brings art to aid him in his bodily exertions. Hence the strongest
man falls under the skill of the trained wrestler; but the contest of
brutes is that of force. Hence it is that man invents weapons which
render the weak and the strong on a level, and which give to skill
the predominance over force. This, too, implies a knowledge of the
relationship between cause and effect, but a knowledge which brutes,
if we except the chimpanzee, do not display. The chimpanzee, it is
asserted, uses a club as a weapon, but we do not advance this as a fact
positively established; indeed, we doubt it; we have never seen this
animal use a stick, as we should use it in striking.
6. _Time._--Man alone can invent artificial methods of measuring time;
in an uncivilized condition he avails himself of the sun and moon,
of the changes of day and night, of the tides, of the seasons, using
them as natural chronometers. The higher brutes evidently possess
some knowledge of time, as evidenced by the migration of birds, the
relief of each other, as in the case of pigeons, at stated intervals on
the nest, and, perhaps we may add, the storing up of food for future
consumption. On this latter point, however, we will not insist, for
most probably it is the result of an entirely instinctive impulse;
we have known a caged squirrel make a hoard. The dog, says M. Ebzéar
Blaze,[7] "reasons, calculates, knows how to count the days of the
week, and even those of the year. Thus, for example, a dog belonging
to M. Roger went every Saturday, at two o'clock precisely, from
Locoyarne to Hennebon, (a distance of three kilomètres;) it set off
in a straight line to the butcher's, because that was their day for
killing, and he was certain of having a good regale upon tripe. He was
capable, then, of counting the days, since he never left home except on
the Saturday. At the house of the same M. Roger, family prayer was kept
up every evening, and the dog listened to the service tranquilly, but,
as may be supposed, impatiently, for as soon as the last _paternoster_
was commenced, he rose up and placed himself near the door, in order to
make his exit immediately on its being opened."
[7] Histoire du Chien.
We do not pretend to say that all animals calculate time, or that any
have the power of calculation which man has; and as for any abstract
idea respecting time or eternity, it is out of the question. Hence they
neither look back upon time, nor forward into the future. Their measure
of knowledge is wisely allotted to them; it is in due accordance
with their animal wants, and final destiny; but man, the heir of
immortality, destined to exist throughout eternity, is so mentally
gifted as to be able to think and reflect upon the past, the present,
and the future. Were he not immortal, he would never, perhaps, have
been endowed by his Maker with the idea of a future life. However this
may be, the Holy Scriptures assure him of a life to come, and for which
he must prepare himself only by one way. The hopes of the idolater are
false. Oh, then, how desirable it is that a knowledge of the true
way of salvation should be spread throughout the world; that error
and superstition should be banished; and that the light of the gospel
should cast its heavenly radiance over the benighted regions of the
earth!
7. _Locality._--A knowledge or perception of locality, that is, of one
place as distinct from another, is regarded by some as a result of the
agency of an exclusive mental power; but for ourselves, we see in it
only the exercise of attention, leading to distinction, and involving
the aid of memory. To attempt to prove that man is endowed with this
capability is useless; so is the dog, so is the cat, so are all our
domestic animals. Attention, distinction, and memory, are exercised
by the carrier-pigeon; when let free, at a long distance from home,
it returns, and rests on its old abode. But what are we to say in the
case of other animals, as the dog, the cat, and the horse, travelling
back from a great distance to their home, without having gained the
experience of the pigeon by soaring aloft, and surveying a wide extent
of land below? It is well known that year after year the swallow and
the martin, and other migratory birds, return to the same spot, in
order to rear their brood. Swallows and martins have been marked,
so that there could be no possibility of mistake. These birds take
their departure in autumn, journeying southwards; they then traverse
Europe, and cross the Mediterranean; they winter in the warmer regions
of Africa, and on the return of spring they commence their northern
flight. What directs the course of a particular pair of swallows from
central Africa, over land and sea, to a particular cottage or barn
in Middlesex, Surrey, or Berkshire? Again, with respect to the bee,
which wanders miles away from its hive, visiting fields and gardens in
quest of honey--how is it guided in its outward and homeward flight?
Has it landmarks?--does it know each wall, each hedge-row, each
tree, each garden and field over which it passes? If so, how do the
bees find their way to and from the floating apiaries on the rivers,
through various parts of the European continent, and also in Egypt,
the resting-place being continually changed according to the judgment
of their owners? In Egypt it is the practice to transport the apiaries
to distant places, in order to take advantage of the succession of
flowers. "In Lower Egypt, for example, about the end of October, the
bee-keepers embark on the Nile, and migrate with them to Upper Egypt,
calculating to arrive there when the inundation is rapidly subsiding,
and the flowers are beginning to bloom. Having stayed a short time in
one place, till they suppose that the bees have collected all the honey
and wax of the district, they remove two or three leagues lower down,
and so on, as the plants come into bloom. Thus gradually returning
homewards, they collect the honey of the adjacent country; and about
the beginning of February, having travelled the whole length of Egypt,
arrive at the spots whence they had set out, and at their habitations.
Niebuhr saw, between Cairo and Damietta, a collection of four thousand
hives, in their transit from Upper Egypt to the Delta."[8] How do
the bees, their locality being thus changed from time to time, find
their way, not only to the boat of hives, but to their own peculiar
hives respectively? There are points in the economy of animals which
we cannot fathom, and it is better to confess our ignorance than to
attempt a puerile theory. To speak truly, we cannot answer the question.
[8] Nat. Cyclop.
8. There are certain qualities of mind, certain principles which,
whatever doubt may be held respecting our previous observations, at
once distinguish man, and elevate him far above the highest brute. In
fact, they take him out of the pale of the brute creation, and isolate
him amidst the living creatures by which he is surrounded. He is the
only animal being who can form any idea of God and his attributes, of
eternity, of virtue and vice, of justice and mercy; in his breast alone
are implanted conscience, faith and hope, repentance and spiritual
peace. Herein have we an argument, to prove that man is not made to
begin and end his career on this world, beautiful as it is, and fitted
to meet all his animal powers, senses, and enjoyments. Why, indeed,
should these principles be implanted in man--principles immediately
bearing upon a future state of existence, if that future state were
not ordained? Where in creation can a similar anomaly be demonstrated?
Every brute is gifted with vital functions and organization fitted to
its destined mode of life, and with a kind and degree of mind (where
this is needed) in exact accordance thereunto. Beyond this all is
blank; indeed, the most wonderful works which brutes perform, and
which in man would argue great thought and experience, are in them the
result of instinct alone. The beautiful corals and zoophytes, which we
so much admire, are instinct-built tenements. Instinct teaches the bee
how to arrange her waxen cells, and load them with honey as a provision
for the winter, and the bird how to build her nest. On the contrary,
the operations of what may be called mind, in contradistinction to
instinct, are displayed only by the higher brutes, and, more over, are
limited within narrow bounds.
We have heard persons assert, that a dog manifests the workings of
conscience, because it often betrays itself by its timid, irresolute
manner after pilfering, as if conscious that it had done wrong. The
fact is, that the dog is conscious of no moral guilt; it has been
previously punished for a like offence, and fears a repetition of the
punishment; this is the solution of the whole affair.
We have so far shown the great superiority of the mind of man above
that of even the highest brutes, and not this only, but its essential
differences, thereby rendering its possessor, indeed, the paragon of
animals. Let us now endeavour to explain what information is gained by
him from the exercise of the senses.
In speaking of God, and of celestial beings, we always use, and
cannot but use, language drawn from the properties, qualities, and
appearances of things around us, or from the passions of our own minds,
or from the configuration and actions of our own bodies. We cannot, in
fact, conceive of God except figuratively--hence to the limit of our
intellect is the language of Scripture adapted. Though written under
inspiration, it was written by men, and for men; and, therefore, the
personification of the Almighty is unavoidable. It is said, "Thy way
is in the sea, and thy path in the great waters, and thy footsteps
are not known;"[9] we talk of the "work of his hands," of "the arm of
God," etc., and we know that we are speaking figuratively, and it is
because we know this, that we turn with disgust from the pictures,
however elaborate, which, painted by Roman Catholics, represent the God
of heaven and earth under the similitude of an aged man, with a long
beard, and white hair, looking down from the clouds. We know that "God
is a Spirit," but we have no conception of what a spirit is; we know
nothing of spirit--nay, we know nothing of matter essentially; it is
only of some of its properties that our senses afford us information,
and it may have many properties, for the discernment of which no senses
have been bestowed upon us. Well, then, may it be written, "Canst
thou by searching find out God? canst thou find out the Almighty unto
perfection?"[10] We cannot, however, doubt, that the Almighty has given
to us a mind and senses quite adequate, not only to our animal wants,
but to our spiritual pilgrimage through this transitory scene, until we
arrive at those realms of bliss, where ignorance shall be exchanged for
knowledge, and every difficulty cleared away.
[9] Psa. lxxvii. 19.
[10] Job xi. 7.
Considerations like these add interest to the inquiry--What variety and
extent of information do we, as intellectual, immortal beings, gain
through our senses? A little thought will convince us that, without
the reflective agency of our minds on the impressions received by
the senses, and the power of conceiving abstract ideas, the simple
impressions of colour, solidity, weight, sound, flavour, or odour,
would be but meagre sources of knowledge. As it is, they are the broad
inlets of knowledge. Let us take them in succession, commencing with a
new chapter.