us imagine that we hurry to meet a friend, whom we expect to find all happiness and gayety, and that, instead of this, seriousness, anxiety, and grief are depicted on the countenance, and indicated by his gestures, these being the natural language of Cautiousness and other faculties painfully affected, will call up a corresponding affection of the same faculties in our minds, and, without knowing what has distressed him, our features and attitudes will instantly assume an expression consonant with his own. It is to this involuntary and almost unconscious communication of feelings and emotions from the mind of one individual to that of another, through the medium of natural language, that the term Sympathy is most properly applied.

An excellent illustration of this kind of sympathy is to be found in the effects of a panic, or excessively excited Cautiousness, in one individual, exciting the same feeling in all who behold it. The very sight of a panicstricken person, when we do not know the cause which has given rise to the alarm, excites a general uneasiness about our own safety; and if a great number of persons together, and at the same instant, perceive the terrified expression, it instantly rouses the faculty of Cautiousness to its highest pitch of activity in all of them, and produces the most intense feelings of dread and alarm. Such are the causes and origin of panics in battles and in mobs; and hence the electric rapidity with which passions of every kind pervade and agitate the minds of assembled multitudes.

Another and very familiar example of this kind of sympathy may be seen in a crowded city. Let any one in passing along London bridge, for instance, stop short, and turn up his face, with his mouth half open, as if stupified with wonder and amazement; and immediately the same expression, being the natural language of Individuality and Wonder, will be transferred to the countenances of nine-tenths of the passengers, not one of whom, of course, will be able to assign any direct cause for the emotion with which his mind will be filled. As the propensities and sentiments employ the intellect to minister to their gratification, if the wag happen to say that it is something vastly surprising in the heavens which attracts his gaze, the majority of the curious in wonders will soon, by a stretch of intellectual conception, come to perceive something where nothing actually exists.

True sympathy, then, arises from the natural language of any active feeling in one individual exciting the same feeling in another, "antecedently to any knowledge of what excited it in the person principally concerned;" and, therefore, as the stimulus of natural language is secondary or inferior in power to that derived from the direct presentment of the objects of any faculty, it is easy to explain why the person who feels sym

that an insult given quite unintentionally, and with the kindest and most respectful air, has exactly the same effect. I shall never forget the air of offended dignity with which a gentleman in a public office "drew up," when, in a moment of abstraction, half a crown was offered him as a compensation for his civility in showing the building. So it is likewise with Destructiveness and Benevolence. We may see a man furiously enraged, without having our own Destructiveness excited in the least; while the tenth part of the concomitant verbal abuse, if lavished on ourselves, would immediately kindle our wrath into a flame. Thus also, the natural language of Benevolence fails to excite that faculty in us, if we are aware that the appearance is merely assumed. An open, sincere, and friendly countenance produces good will only in so far as it is significant of estimable qualities, and these, being agreeable to our own feelings, excite Benevolence through their medium. All the phenomena which really take place are explained by the laws whose existence I have laboured to establish-namely, that Destructiveness is roused by the disagreeable action, and Benevolence by the agreeable, of every power of the human mind." Phrenological Journal, vol. x., p. 13.

pathetically, feels less deeply than the person with whom he sympathizes. The same principle explains, also, why all men do not sympathize in the same degree, and why, in some cases, the spectator does not sympathize at all. If the objects presented be such as to afford a direct stimulus to a different faculty in us from that exhibited in activity by another, it follows that, in virtue of the stronger influence of the direct excitement, the particular faculty which it addresses will be roused into higher activity than the one which has only the less powerful stimulus of natural language, and thus a totally dissimilar emotion will be experienced. For example, let us suppose that a man with a good endowment of Combativeness and Destructiveness is attacked on the highway; the menacing looks.and gestures (the natural language of these faculties) displayed by the aggressor instantly rouse them into energetic action in the defender, and force is repelled by force. But, suppose that the attack is made upon a woman, or an individual in whom Combativeness is only moderate, and in whom Cautiousness predominates, the attack then becomes a direct stimulus to Cautiousness, which, being excited, produces fear; and the direct stimulus of Cautiousness overpowering the indirect stimulus of Combativeness, submission or flight is resorted to, rather than defence.

Dr. Adam Smith* supposes that there are emotions with which we have no sympathy. "The furious behaviour of an angry man," says he, "is more likely to exasperate us against himself than against his enemies." According to the theory, however, of sympathy, that it excites in us the same emotion which others feel, this opinion seems to be untenable. If Combativeness and Destructiveness in one excite by sympathy Combativeness and Destructiveness in another, which I hold them to do, it follows that, as the function of these faculties is to attack or to repel attack, when they are roused, they must, from their very constitution, exert themselves against something or somebody. If we know the cause of the anger, and approve of it, and direct our Combativeness and Destructiveness against the angry man's enemies, this is clearly sympathy in every sense of the term. But if we disapprove of the cause, then he himself becomes the object of our resentment; and in popular language it may be said, that, in this case, we do not sympathize with him but it must be observed, 1st, that the activity of Combativeness and Destructiveness in him is the cause of rousing the same faculties in us; and, 2dly, that the reason of anger being directed against himself is to be found in his having outraged, by his conduct, our moral sentiments, and presented us with an object (an unreasonably furious man) which stimulates these directly; and they being excited, determine the direction which Combativeness and Destructiveness shall take. The same reasoning applies to the sympathy of Self-Esteem and of other faculties, hitherto supposed not to sympathize.

The proof, that we do sympathize with anger, when properly directed, as well as with grief or pity, is to be found in the cordiality with which we approve of, and indeed encourage, a just degree of it. Fortunately, in the case of Combativeness and Destructiveness, as well as of all the other propensities, our sympathy, beyond certain limits, is soon arrested by the direct stimulus which the moral sentiments receive from the conduct of the angry person, and by the deep sense of their inherent supremacy which is then felt. In consequence we sympathize with, or approve of, the actions produced by the lower faculties of others only when these are guided by the faculties peculiar to man. For example, we never sympathize with Combativeness when indulged for the mere pleasure of fighting; or of Destructiveness, when gratified for the mere delight of being ferocious;

* Theory of Moral Sentiments, p. 32.

or of Acquisitiveness, when directed to the sole purpose of accumulating wealth. But we sympathize with the action of all of these faculties when directed by justice and understanding. Such, however, is the beautiful constitution of our nature, that we sympathize with the action of the sentiments proper to man, even when unmingled with any other motive; for example, we sympathize with benevolence, from the mere glow of charity; with veneration, from the mere inward feeling of devotion; with justice, from the pure dictates of Conscientiousness; and actions done apparently from the impulses of these faculties lose their character of purity and excellence in our estimation, in exact proportion to the alloy of the inferior faculties which we perceive to be mingled with them. Kindness, in which we perceive interest, is always less valued than when pure and unadulterated. Activity in the service of the public loses its merit in our eyes, in exact proportion as we perceive the motive to be the Love of Approbation, unmingled with Conscientiousness and true Benevolence. These facts prove the accuracy of the phrenological doctrine, that the higher faculties are made to govern the lower; and also the curious circumstance, that man is conscious of possessing feelings, necessary, no doubt, in themselves, but of the gratification of which, when undirected by the superior powers, he himself disapproves. Even the higher sentiments, however, to be approved of, must act conformably to the understanding; and excess of veneration, of benevolence, or of scrupolosity is regarded as weakness, as excess of any lower propensity is regarded as vice.

The doctrine of sympathy leads to valuable practical consequences. The natural language of any faculty is intelligible to, and excites the same faculty in, another, and this simple principle explains why harshness is much less powerful than mildness in commanding the services of others. Harshness is the natural language of active Self-Esteem, Combativeness, Destructiveness, and Firmness: in virtue of the above rule, it naturally excites the same faculties in those against whom it is directed, and an instinctive tendency to resistance or disobedience is the result. Among the uneducated classes this process is exhibited every day. A parent, in a harsh and angry tone, commands a child to do or to abstain from doing something; the child instinctively resists; and loud threatenings, and at last violence ensue. These last are direct stimulants to Cautiousness; they overpower the faculties excited only by the indirect stimulus of harshness, and obedience at last takes place. This is the uniform effect of imperious commands: obedience never ensues till consequences alarming to Cautiousness are perceived, and then it is attended with a grudge. Veneration, Conscientiousness, Love of Approbation, and Benevolence, on the other hand, are the faculties which lead to willing submission and obedience, and to which, therefore, we ought to address ourselves. If we stimulate them, compliance will be agreeable to the individual, and doubly beneficial to the person who commands.

This principle explains also the force of example in training to good conduct, and affords instructive rules for the proper education of the propensities and sentiments. Where parents and seniors act habitually under the influence of the higher sentiments, the same sentiments in children not only receive a direct cultivation, but are sustained in enduring vivacity by the natural expression of their activity thus exhibited. Children having the organs of the sentiments early developed, can judge of what is right and wrong long before they can reason; and hence the importance of always manifesting before them the supremacy of sentiments. Much of the effect of example upon the future character has been ascribed to Imitation; but, although this has an influence, I am persuaded that it is small compared with that of Sympathy as now unfolded.

There is a state of mind which has been confounded with Sympathy,

but which arises from the direct excitement of the faculties by their own objects. When we see a stroke aimed and ready to fall upon the arm or leg of another person, we are apt to shrink and draw back our own leg or arm, and, when it does fall, we in some measure feel it, and are hurt by it as well as the sufferer. Dr. Adam Smith proceeds to explain this by saying, that our fellow-feeling here arises from our changing places in fancy with the sufferer. Thus, if our brother is upon the rack, says he, "by the imagination we place ourselves in his situation, we conceive ourselves enduring all the same torments; we enter, as it were, into his body, and become in some measure the same person with him, and thence form some idea of his sensations, and even feel something which, though weaker in degree, is not altogether unlike them. His agonies thus brought home to ourselves, when we have thus adopted and made them our own, begin at last to affect us, and we then tremble and shudder at the thought of what he feels."*

This theory, however, appears to be incorrect, for we often feel intensely for another's misery without, even in idea, changing places with him. In beholding suffering, we feel deep commiseration with its object, simply because the faculty of Benevolence, the function of which is to manifest this emotion, is a primitive mental power, having the same relation to external misery or pain that light has to the eye; and as such it is as instantly and irresistibly roused by presentment of a suffering object, as the eye is by the admission of light, or the ear by the percussion of sounds. In witnessing another's misery, we, in virtue of this constitution of mind, first feel the emotion of pity, and, in proportion to its strength, fancy to ourselves the pain which he endures: but the pity always precedes, and the effort to conceive the pain is the effect, and not the cause, of the pity. Hence those who are remarkable for a moderate endowment of Benevolence, although possessing superior intellectual or conceiving powers, never even try to fancy themselves placed in the situation of the sufferer, because they feel no motive impelling them to the attempt. The benevolent idiot, on the other hand, with scarcely any power of conception, feels the most poignant distress.

The same principle explains our shrinking from a blow impending over another. The feeling then experienced is a compound of fear and pity, Cautiousness and Benevolence. Fear is roused by the danger, and Pity is roused by the consequent pain. Danger is the direct stimulant of Cautiousness, and suffering that of Benevolence; and, therefore, when these objects are presented to the mind, we can no more help feeling the corresponding emotions, than we can help seeing or hearing. The direct chief end or function of Cautiousness is the care and preservation of self; therefore, when it is excited by the aspect of danger, we look eagerly to self, and draw in our own leg or arm as parts of ourselves; but this results directly from the constitution of the faculty, and not from putting ourselves in the place of another. The direct end or function of Benevolence, again, is the good and happiness of others, and therefore, when it is excited by the misery of another, it necessarily, from its very constitution, feels for them, and not for ourselves.

An active temperament greatly conduces us to sympathy, by producing vivacity in all the cerebral functions; but this does not supersede the laws of sympathy before explained.

HABIT. Next to Association, Habit makes the most conspicuous figure in the philosophy of Mr. Stewart. He refers the incapacity of some individuals to discriminate colours to habits of inattention. The powers also of wit, fancy, and invention in the arts and sciences, he informs us, are not the original gifts of nature, "but the result of acquired

* Theory of Moral Sentiments, p. 30.

habits."* "The power of taste, and a genius for poetry, painting, music, and mathematics," he states, " are gradually formed by particular habits of study or of business." And not only does Habit execute these magnificent functions in the system of Mr. Stewart, but, in the estimation of individuals in private life, it appears to be viewed as almost omnipotent. On reading to a friend the account of the boy J. G's early dishonest conduct, he attributed them all to bad habits formed in the charity workhouse of Glasgow; on exhibiting an individual whose mental character was directly opposite, he attributed the difference to good habits, formed under the tuition of his parents. Thus, there are no talents so transcendent, and no dispositions so excellent or so depraved, but habit is supposed by many, at once, to account for them in such a manner as to supersede the necessity of all farther investigation. What, then, is HABIT, and what place does it hold in the phrenological system?

Every voluntary action is a manifestation of some one or more faculties of the mind. Habit is defined to be "a power in a man of doing anything, acquired by frequently doing it." Now, before it can be done at all, the faculty on which it depends must be possessed; and the stronger the faculty, the greater will be the facility with which the individual will do the thing at first, and learn to repeat it afterward. George Bidder, for example, the celebrated mental calculator, acquired the habit of solving, in an incredibly short time, extensive and intricate arithmetical problems, without the aid of notation. Before he could begin to do such a thing, the organ of Number was indispensable; possessing it largely, he made great and rapid acquisitions of skill, and at seven years of age established the habit which struck us with so much surprise. Other individuals are to be found endowed with a small organ of Number, who, although forced by circumstances to practise the use of figures, never succeed in acquiring a habit of performing even the simplest arithmetical questions with facility and success. This illustration may be applied to painting, poetry, music, and mathematics. Before the habit of practising these branches of art and science can be acquired, the organs on which the talents depend must be largely possessed; and being so, the habits result spontaneously from exercising the powers. If a boy at school acquire a habit of quarrelling and fighting, it is obvious that, as these acts are manifestations of Combativeness and Destructiveness, he will the more readily acquire the habit the larger these organs are, and the less controlled by others. If these organs be small, or if the higher organs decidedly predominate, the boy will be naturally indisposed to quarrelling, and will acquire the habit of it with great difficulty, wherever he may be placed. He may repel unjust aggressions made upon him, but he will not be the promoter of mischief, or a leader in the broils of his companions. Many boys can never acquire the habit of quarrelling, even though urged to it by circumstances.‡

Exercise strengthens the organs and causes them to act with greater facility, and in this way the real effects of habit on the mind, which are important, may be accounted for; but the organ must possess considerable natural power and activity, to render it susceptible of the exercise by which habit is formed. The practice of debate by advocates at the bar gives them great facility in delivering extemporaneous harangues, compared with that enjoyed by persons whose avocations never lead them to make speeches; and this facility may be said to be acquired by the habit of speaking; but it will always bear a proportion to the original endowment of the faculties; and we shall find that, while habit gives to one

*Elements, vol. i., chap. v., p. 1, seat. 4.

+ See Trans. of the Phren. Soc., p. 289.

See these views illustrated in the case of John Linn, Phren. Journ., vol. X., p. 207. § See p. 50.