intellect, but who from want of sensibility composed a false and narrow system of morals. The same observation, though in a very modified degree, is applicable to one of the greatest philosophers of our day, Jeremy Bentham. It would be the utmost injustice to compare his moral writings with those of Hobbes; but it is nevertheless certain, that they often evince a want of knowledge of the human heart, and take a confined estimate of the various sources of enjoyment open to mankind. One who could consider poetry and the fine arts as no more useful than the game of solitaire or tee-totum, must be allowed to have been deficient in that comprehensive sensibility so necessary in moral science. Nor are intellect and delicacy of feeling alone sufficient. A man may be capable of feeling, and may have actually felt to a certain extent every emotion of which human nature is susceptible, but it is impossible that he can have experienced them all in great intensity. It is necessary, however, that he should be able to conceive them existing in every possible degree of force, otherwise his estimate of their influence on action and happiness will be imperfect. Now imagination alone can disclose this new world to his view, and can magnify passions weak in himself, till they rise before him in all their strength and majesty. Herein lies the art of all great dramatic writers and actors. Obedient to the call of fancy, the gates of the mind fly wide open before them, and allow them to see the inmost recesses of the heart. They do not reason about the passions, but they can imagine what they are, and know practically, though not theoretically, on what occasions

they are apt to be called forth. So ought the moral philosopher.

Here then is the grand difficulty of this branch of knowledge. It requires a combination of qualities very rarely to be met with, Intellect, Sensibility, Imagination, all in a high degree. If we cannot be surprised that monks and schoolmen who passed their lives in cloisters should have had very narrow notions on the subject, removed, as they were, from the busy world, from the society of women, and from all domestic ties and endearments, we must allow that those philosophers who spend most of their time in their closets, who lead either a solitary existence, or one confined to a few intimates, and whose social affections have been little cultivated, are on these accounts peculiarly unfitted for laying down plans of human happiness. How can any one give comprehensive views of happiness, without a mind so framed as to feel enjoyments of different kinds, and imagine them stronger or weaker in others? Could he who was dead to the pleasures of the affection and the imagination form any just estimate of their importance? This is evidently impossible.

The same difference of feeling and dulness of imagination in men explain what has often been observed, that or half of mankind pass their lives in wondering at the pursuits of the other. Not being able either to feel or to fancy the pleasure derived from other sources than their own, they consider the rest of the world as little better than fools, who follow empty baubles. They hug themselves as the only wise, while in truth they are only narrow-minded.

The above observations will show, that what we ought most carefully to avoid in all inquiries of this nature, is the formation of an exclusive system, which would confine happiness to one or two points alone, forgetful of the infinite diversity of pursuits and enjoyments, which the bounty of the Deity has opened up to his creatures. At the same time were we to attempt to enumerate all the objects and all the modes of existence capable of giving pleasure, we should lose ourselves in interminable details, without obtaining any clew to guide us through the labyrinth of life. Here, as in all the higher branches of philosophy, the grand object is to discover certain general principles that widely pervade nature, which are always found united with other things, but which alone communicate real virtue to the compound. If these were all known, science would be complete; for as Bacon has well observed, "Bene scire esse per causas scire;" and these principles are the essential causes of whatever effects we behold. In the language of that great philosopher, they are called forms, and they differ from what he styles the efficient or palpable cause in this, that the latter is only a vehicle for the former. An example or two taken from chemistry will render this very plain. The substances opium and bark had long been employed in medicine to produce narcotic effects and to cure ague, but it was not discovered till lately by analysis, that all the virtue of the one resides in a very minute part of the whole, called morphea, and that of the other in quinine. These being taken away, the rest is an inert mass of no use whatsoever. Here then

we have the essential principles or forms, the real causes of certain medicinal effects, separated from the woody and extraneous matter which served merely as a vehicle for those forms. If a dose of opium be given, and the usual result ensue, we naturally say that opium was the cause, and in a certain sense we are right, for at least, it contains the cause, as a spoonful of jelly does a nauseous but active powder. The opium, in the language of Bacon, is the causa efficiens or vehiculum formæ, the morphea the forma; or if we please, the one is the palpable, the other the hidden and real cause. This, it is hoped, will suffice to explain the difference between the two. It is just possible that a further analysis may detect morphea not in opium only, but in every plant having a narcotic effect, and if so, we shall have discovered a general narcotic principle widely spread throughout nature. The number of elements is of course very much less numerous than that of compounds, for the latter are formed by the former mixed in proportions infinitely diversified. The number of simple substances known at present to exist does not exceed forty or fifty; and almost all the varieties of vegetable productions are formed out of three of these elements, and all the animal out of four.1

From what has now been said, the reader will be able to see more clearly what is meant by the essential principles of happiness. They are hidden causes

1 Carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, and azote. The last exists very sparingly in vegetables, and in very many not at all.

or elements, perhaps not very numerous, which pervade all objects, incidents, and pursuits capable of touching our sensibility, and on these elements the efficacy of the compounds depends. Were they once discovered even in part, the science would rest on a real and solid foundation, capable of being enlarged from time to time, but without the destruction of what had before been laid. To endeavour to fix some of these principles is the object of the present book.

In the first place it is necessary to form a correct idea of the nature of those feelings in which all happiness consists. For this purpose we must take a summary view of the various mental phenomena or appearances.2

All the states of mind of which we are conscious may be divided into two great classes, according as they are, or are not immediately preceded by a change in the state of the body. To the former the term Sensations is properly applied; for the latter, in the want of a single and appropriate word, the expression Inward phenomena may be adopted. Sensations may be otherwise called, for the sake of uniformity, Outward phenomena. But we must always remember that they are called outward solely in reference to the cause, or change in state of the body, and that they as much belong to the mind within as the inward ́ phenomena themselves. Sensation is as much mental as thought or emotion, though the cause from which it springs is

2 The readers of Dr. Brown will perceive that the present classification of the mental phenomena differs not from the one laid down in the lectures of that eminent metaphysician.