of trial a more intense ardour of patriotism than others. He who, by his untiring attentions to the poor, the sICK, and the prisoner, has kept his sympathetic affections in action for a long series of years, wii find the principue of sympathy more thoroughly consubstantial in his nature and more intensely operative than if it bad lain dormant And we may add, that this doctrine, in all its extent, is applicable to the highest of all the Benevolent affections, that of love to God. This ennobling principle, this preeminent trait, which allies us not only to just men made perfect, but to angels, is an improveable one. Under the influence of Habit, we find it, even in the present lie, going on from one degree of brightness and strength to another. The more we think of God, the more frequently we connect him with all our ordinary transactions, the more will the broad orb of his glory expand itself to our conceptions, and call forth the homage and love of the heart.

201. Of the origin of secondary active principles.

It is here, in connexion with the views of this Chapter, that we find an explanation of the origin of what are called SECONDARY principles of action. Some individuals, for instance, are seen to possess a decided passion for dress, furniture, and equipage. We are not to suppose that this passion is one which is originally implanted in the human mind, although it may be so permanent and so decided in its action as to have something of that appearance. The probability is, setting aside whatever may be truly interesting or beautiful in the objects, that they are chiefly sought after, not so much for what they are in themselves, as for some form of good, particularly some esteem and honour, to which they are supposed to be introductory and auxiliary. But the desire, existing, in the first instance, in reference to some supposed beneficial end, has been so long exercised, that we at last, in virtue of what may properly be called a Habit, so closely associate the means and the end, that it is exceedingly difficult to separate them. So that, after a time, we apparently have a real love or affection for the means itself (the dress, furniture, equipage, or whatever it is), independ

ently, in a great degree, of the ultimate object, in connexion with which it first excited an interest in us.

There are some men, to illustrate the subject still further, who appear to have a strong love for money; we do not mean property in the more general sense of the term, but MONEY, the gold and the silver coin in itself considered, the mere naked issue of the mint. This is one of the various forms which the too common vice of Avarice sometimes assumes. But we cannot suppose that the love of money, in this sense of the term, is a passion connatural to the human mind, and that men are born with it. It is loved, in the first instance, simply as a means subordinate to some supposed beneficial end. The has looked upon person it for years as the means of enjoyment, influence, and honour; in this way he has formed a Habit of associating the means and the end; and they have become so closely connected in his thoughts, that, in ordinary cases, he finds himself unable to separate them.

ions.

Again: we are not to suppose that men are born with a natural desire for the company of mice and spiders, such as we have reason to think they naturally entertain for that of their fellow-men. But, in the entire exclusion of all human beings, we find the principle of sociality, deprived of its legitimate and customary sources of gratification, fastening itself upon these humble companA man, as in the case of Baron Trenck and Count Lauzun, may form an acquaintance with these animals, which, aided by the principle of Habit, will, after a time, exhibit a distinctness and intensity which are commonly characteristic only of the original passions.-In this way there may unquestionably be formed a series of SECONDARY appetites, propensities, and affections almost without number. And we have here opened to us a new and interesting view of human nature, capable of being so applied as to explain many things in the history and conduct of men, which, however, we are not at liberty in this connexion to explore more minutely.

◊ 202. Objection to these views in respect to habit.

It is proper to mention here that an objection has been

raised to these views; not to the doctrine of Habit in general, but to the alleged extent of it. While it is admitted that it exists, and produces its results in most cases, it is contended that our passive feelings, as they are sometimes called, are not strengthened in this way. Passive feelings, as the term is used in this objection, are those where we suffer or endure. This seems to have been the original meaning of the epithet, which is derived from the participle of the Latin PATIOR, to suffer. So that the objection, stated in more obvious phraseology, has reference in particular to painful or unpleasant feelings. The statement, which is made in respect to feelings of this description, is that, instead of growing stronger by repetition, they diminish in power.

The opinions involved in this objection are brought forward in the philosophical works of Bishop Butler. We learn from him, in express terms, that frequent exposure to danger lessens fear and begets intrepidity; and that a frequent acquaintance with scenes of distress lessens the passion of pity. "Let a man," he says, "set himself to attend to, inquire out, and relieve distressed persons, and he cannot but grow less and less sensibly affected with the various miseries of life with which he must become acquainted."*

Some further illustrations will help to show what is meant, although the objection has always appeared in a somewhat perplexed and indefinite form.-Among other instances referred to in connexion with this subject, it is said of the physician, which perhaps was the very instance had in view by Bishop Butler in the remark just quoted, that at first he is affected as much as another man at the sight of suffering; but the repetition of such scenes, to which he is constantly called, blunts and does away the painful feeling, instead of increasing its strength.Again, it is said of the sailor, when exposed for the first time to a storm on the ocean, that he is filled with the painful emotion of fear; but the feeling grows weaker at

* Butler's Analogy of Natural and Revealed Religion, pt. i., ch. v. The passage at the place here referred to in Butler is avowedly the basis of a number of remarks and illustrations in Mr. Stewart's Elements (vol. i., ch. vii., § 5), in which similar sentiments are maintained.

every repetition of danger. The soldier, in particular, felt a degree of pity for his writhing and groaning comrades in his first fields of battle; he wept as well as others; but, after a few campaigns, the feelings of sympathy grew weaker and weaker, and he no longer had tears to shed.

It is not necessary to multiply instances; the difficulty will probably now be understood; the facts are in appearance precisely, or very nearly such as have been stated; nevertheless, they are susceptible of being satisfactorily accounted for, consistently with the great law which has been laid down.

203. Explanation of the above-mentioned cases.

In explanation of the instances mentioned in the preceding section, we would remark, in the first place, that the law of Habit is not so strong as not to be overcome by others; it may be weakened, subdued, apparently annulled, when coming in contact with other strong principles; and that is the fact in these cases. When the sailor was first exposed to the storm, it was but natural that the idea of danger should be prominent in his mind, and that his fears should be strong. After the repetition of similar situations, he finds that the danger is less than he at first imagined; and not only this, he finds that, in order to escape the danger, whatever it is, he must discharge his duty; he must make every effort; he must put forth a cool judgment, which is inconsistent with the agitations of fear; he must call into exercise other feelings. Every strong and energetic principle of the soul, ambition, courage, and hope, are summoned forward, to counteract and destroy the action of the law in question, and the effort is successful. This is the explanation.

And so in the case of the physician. He finds it absolutely necessary that his sympathy or pity for the objects suffering before him should be overruled and subdued. It is more necessary for them than for himself. He must subdue pity in order to show pity; his mind must be perfectly calm and collected, which would be inconsistent with his dwelling much on the actual distress of the patient; he must be able to observe and collate the

symptoms of the disease, and to prepare the remedy. His heart has not become truly and intrinsically harder than other men's; his judgment has gained an ascendency over his heart, and checked its emotions; he has made it hard for particular occasions and for sufficient reasons; but place him in other situations, where this necessity is not laid upon him; smite this seeming rock at other times, and the waters of sorrow will freely gush out.

§ 204. Further illustrations of the foregoing instances.

In the cases which have been mentioned, and others like them, the persons concerned have formed, in some sense, an opposite habit; they have called into exercise, repeated, and strengthened, emotions and desires of a different kind; they have banked up, as it were, their fears and their sympathies, lest they should overflow.

An explanation, similar to what has been already given, will apply universally; and, among other cases, to that of the soldier. How often did Napoleon look on the heaps of slain, on the lifeless piles of young men, the hope of their parents; of the men of middle age, the support of their families; of veterans and renowned officers, without discovering a single emotion! The lamentation of millions arose around him; but he heeded them not, felt not, wept not. But no one undertakes to assert that the heart of the French Emperor was naturally without kindly feeling. There is much reason to believe it was far otherwise; it was the supposed necessity of his situation, and his philosophy, which made it so. He had placed before him his own chosen object, and he had long and laboriously taught himself to care for nothing else. His hardness of heart was a matter of calculation and discipline; and possibly we may find a proof of it in what some will consider a trifling incident.

It is said that he once rode along one of his fields of battle, and, amid the fearful desolation around him, happened to fix his eye on a dog that remained to watch and to mourn over his lifeless master's body; and he was affected, even agitated with emotion. And how did this happen? The explanation seems to be, that he had hardened his heart against sympathy with human beings, and VOL. II.-X