ON THE NATURE AND IMPORTANCE OF MENTAL SCIENCE.

§ I.—Nature of the Science.

Mental Philosophy, what.—What is Mental Philosophy, as distinguished from other branches of science?

Philosophy, in the wide sense usually given it, denotes the investigation and explanation of the causes of things; it seeks to discover, and scientifically to state, the general laws both of matter and mind; its object is to ascertain facts, and their relation to each other. Mental Philosophy has for its object to ascertain the facts and laws of mental operation.

Metaphysics, what.—Of the two grand departments of human knowledge—the science of matter and the science of mind—the former, comprising whatever relates to material phenomena, the science of nature, is known under the general name of Physics; the latter, the science of mind, is often designated by the corresponding term, neither very correct nor very fortunate, Metaphysics. This term is often used to include whatever does not properly fall under the class of Physics. In its strict sense, it does not include so much, but denotes properly the science of abstract truth; the science of being, in itself considered—apart from its particular accidents and properties—that which we now call Ontology. The term is commonly ascribed to Aristotle, but incorrectly. It originated with his followers. Several treatises of his relating to natural science having been collected and published, under the title ta f?s??a, other treatises on philosophical subjects were afterward arranged under the title ta etaf?s??a, indicating their relation to the former, as proper to be read after the perusal of those. Hence the term came into use in the general sense, already spoken of, to denote whatever is not included under physics although originally employed with a much more limited meaning.

Mental Philosophy not properly Metaphysics.—Neither in its wider nor in its stricter sense does this term properly designate the science of mind. Mental Philosophy neither embraces every thing not included under physics, nor is it the science of abstract being. As one of the intellectual, in distinction from the physical sciences, it holds a place along with Logic—the science of the laws of human thought and reasoning; Ethics—the science of morals; Politics—the science of human organization and government; to which should be added Ontology—the science of pure being; all which are properly embraced under the term Metaphysics in its wider and popular sense. To designate the science of mind in distinction from these other sciences, some more definite term is required. The word Psychology is now coming into use as such a term.

Mental Philosophy a Natural Science.—The science of mind, indeed, deserves in one aspect to be ranked among the natural sciences. It is a science resting on experience, observation, and induction—a science of facts, phenomena and laws which regulate the same. That which is specifically its object of investigation—the human mind—is strictly a part, and most important part of nature, unless we exclude man himself from the world to which he belongs, and of which he is lord.

Possibility of such a Science.—The possibility of the science of the human mind has been denied by some; but without good reason. If we can observe and classify the phenomena of nature, in her varied forms, animate and inanimate, and ascertain in this way the laws to which she is subject; if it is possible thus to construct a science of plants, of animals, of the elements that compose the substance of the earth, of the strata that lie arranged beneath its surface, of the forces and agencies that at any time, recent or remote, have been at work to produce the changes which have taken place upon and within our globe—nay, more, if leaving our own planet we may, by careful observation of the heavenly bodies, learn their places, movements, distances, estimate their magnitude and density, measure their speed, and thus construct a science of the stars, surely the phenomena of our own minds, the data of our own consciousness, must be at least equally within our reach, and equally capable of observation, classification, and scientific statement. If we can observe the habits of animals and plants, we can observe also the habits of men, and the phenomena of human thought and passion. If the careful induction of general truths and principles from observed facts form the basis and method of true science in the one case, so in the other.

Science of Matter and of Mind analogous.—The science of matter, and the science of mind agree perfectly in this, that all we know of either is simply the phenomena which they exhibit. We know not matter as it is in itself, but only as it affects our senses. We perceive certain qualities or properties of it, and these we embody in our definition, and beyond these we say nothing, because we know nothing. Equally relative is our knowledge of mind. What it is in itself we know not, but only its phenomena as presented to our observation and consciousness. It thinks and feels, it perceives, remembers, reasons, it loves, hates, desires, determines; these exercises are matter of experience and observation; they constitute our knowledge and our definition of mind, and beyond we cannot go.

Modes and Sources of Information the same in both.—This being the case, it is evident that both our sources of information, and our mode of investigation, must be essentially the same in the two departments of science. In either case our knowledge must be limited to phenomena merely, and these must be learned by observation and experience. A careful induction of particulars will place us in possession of general principles, or laws, and these, correctly ascertained and stated, will constitute our science, whether of matter or mind.

They differ in one Respect.—In one respect, indeed, our means of information with regard to the two branches of science differ. While both matter and mind can be known only by the observation of the phenomena which they present, in mental science the field of such observation lies in great part within ourselves—the phenomena are those of our own present or former consciousness—the mind is at once both the observer and the object observed. This circumstance, which at first seems to present a difficulty, is in reality a great advantage which this science possesses over all others.

Apparent Difficulty.—The difficulty which it seems to present is this: How can the eye perceive itself? How can the mind, as employed, for example, in remembering, or judging, or willing, inspect its own operations, since the moment its attention is turned to itself it is no longer engaged in that operation which it seeks to inspect—is no longer remembering, or judging, or willing, but is employed only in self-observation? We admit that the mind, in the very instant of its exercising any given faculty, cannot make itself, as thus engaged, the object of attention. But the operations of the mind, as given in consciousness, at any moment, may be retained or replaced by memory the next moment, and as thus replaced and attested, may stand before us the proper objects of our investigation, so long as we please. This puts it in the power of the mind to observe and to know itself.

Real Advantage.—The advantage accruing from the circumstance that the phenomena to be observed are those of our own present or former consciousness, is this: that those phenomena are fully within our reach, and also are capable of being known with greater certainty. In physical science the facts may be scattered over the globe, and over centuries of time, not personally accessible to any one observer in their completeness, and yet that completeness of observation may be essential to correct science. In psychology, the observer has within himself the essential elements of the science which he explores; the data which he seeks, are the data of his own consciousness; the science which he constructs is the science of himself.

Comparative Value of this kind of Knowledge.—The knowledge thus given in conscious experience is more correct and reliable than any other. It has this peculiarity that it cannot be disputed. I may be mistaken in regard to the properties of a piece of matter which I hold in my hand, and which seems to me to be square or round, of such or such a color, and of such or such figure, size, and density; but I cannot be mistaken as to the fact, that it seems to me to be of such color, figure, etc. The former are results of perception and judgment; the latter is an immediate datum of consciousness, and cannot be called in question. To doubt our own consciousness is to call in question our very doubt, since the only evidence of our doubting is the consciousness that we doubt. As to the phenomena of the external world—the things that are passing without—I may be mistaken; as to what is passing in my own mind—the thoughts, feelings, volitions of my own conscious self—there is no room for doubt or mistake.

Not limited to Consciousness.—I do not mean, by what has been said, to imply that in our own observation of mental phenomena we are limited to the experience of our own minds, but only that this is the principal source of our information. The mental operations of others, so far as we have access to their minds, are also legitimate data. These we may observe for ourselves in the daily intercourse of life, may notice how, under given circumstances, men will think, feel, and act, and the knowledge thus acquired will constitute a valuable addition to our self-knowledge. We may receive also, in this science, as in any other, the testimony of others as to their own mental states and operations. In so far as psychology relies upon these sources, it stands on a footing with other sciences.

§ II.—Importance of Mental Science.

Comparative Neglect.—That the science of the mind has not hitherto held that high place in the public regard and estimation, at least in our own country, to which it is justly entitled, as compared with other branches of knowledge, can hardly be denied. The cause of this comparative neglect is to be found partly in the nature of the science itself, partly in the exclusively practical tendencies of the age.

The first Cause considered.—The nature of the science is such that its benefits are not immediately apparent. The dullest mind can perceive some use in chemistry, or botany, or natural philosophy. They are of service in the analysis of soils, the rotation of crops, the comprehension of the laws of mechanical and chemical forces. But mental science has no such application, no such practical results patent and obvious to the careless eye. Its dwelling-place and sphere of action lie removed somewhat from the observations of men. It has no splendid cabinets or museums to throw open to the gaze of the multitude. It cannot arrange in magnificent collection all the varieties of mental action, all the complications of thought and feeling as yet observed, nor illustrate by curious instruments, and nice experiments, the wonderful laws of association, the subtle changes and swift flashes of wit and fancy, and quick strong emotion, the impulses of desire, the curious play of volition, the unexplained mystery of thought, the lights and shadows that come and go upon the field of consciousness. For these curious and wonderful phenomena of the inner life there are no philosophic instruments or experiments, no charts or diagrams. Nor are there yet brilliant discoveries to be made, nor splendid rewards to be gained by the votaries of this science. "Four or five new metals," says Sydney Smith, "have been discovered within as many years, of the existence of which no human being could have had any suspicion; but no man that I know of pretends to discover four or five new passions."

The second Cause.—But the chief obstacle, as I suppose, to the more general cultivation of mental science is to be found in the exclusively practical tendencies of the age. We are a people given more to action than to thought, to enterprise than to speculation. This is perhaps inseparable from the condition of a new state. An age of action is seldom an age of reflection. External life demands the energies of a new people. The elements are to be subdued, mountains levelled, graded, tunnelled, roads constructed, cities built, and many useful, necessary works to be wrought with toil and cost, before that period comes of golden affluence, and leisure, and genial taste, and elegant culture, that can at once appreciate and reward the higher efforts of philosophic investigation.

Relation to other Sciences.—The importance of mental science appears from its relation to other sciences. We find in nature a gradually ascending series. As we pass from the observation and study of the mineral to the forms of vegetable life, from the plant to the insect—and thence to the animal, and from the animal, in his various orders and classes, to man, the highest type of animated existence on the earth, we are conscious of a progression in the rank and dignity of that which we contemplate. But it is only when we turn our attention from all these to the intelligence that dwells within the man, and makes him master and lord of this lower world, that we stand upon the summit of elevation and overlook the wide field of previous inquiry. Toward this all other sciences lead, as paths along the mountain side, starting from different points, and running in different directions, converge toward a common terminus at the summit. As the mineral, the plant, the insect, the animal, in all their curious and wonderful organizations, are necessarily inferior to man, so is the science of them, however important and useful, subordinate to the science of man himself; and as the human body, curious and wonderful in its organism and its laws, is nevertheless inferior in dignity and worth to the spirit that dwells within, and is the true lord of this fair castle and this wide and beautiful domain, so is the science of the body, its mechanism, its chemistry, its anatomy, its laws, inferior to the science of the mind, the divinity within.

Other Sciences Creations of the Mind.—Many of the sciences justly regarded as the most noble, are themselves the creations of the mind. Such, for example, is the science of number and quantity—a science leading to the most sublime results, as in the calculations of the astronomer, yet a pure product of the human intellect. Indeed what is all science but the work of mind? The creations of art are wonderful, but the mind that can conceive and execute those creations is still more to be admired. Language is wonderful, but chiefly as a production and expression of mind. The richness, the affluence, the eloquence, the exactness, the beauty, for example, of the Greek tongue, of what are these the qualities, and where did they dwell—in the Greek language, or in the Greek mind? Which is really the more noble and wonderful then, the language itself, or the mind that called into being such a language, and employed it as an instrument of expression; and of which is the science most noble and worthy of regard?

We admire the genius of a Kepler and a Copernicus, we sympathize with their enthusiasm as they observe the movements and develop the laws of the heavenly bodies; we look through the telescope, not without a feeling of awe, as it seems to lift us up, and bear us away into the unknown and the infinite, revealing to us what it would almost seem had never been intended for the human eye to see; but one thing is even more wonderful than the telescope—that is the mind that contrived it. One thing is more awe-inspiring than the stars, and that is the mind that discovers their hidden laws, and unlocks their complicated movements; and when we would observe the most curious and wonderful thing of all, we must leave the tubes and the tables, the calculations and the diagrams with which the man works, and study the man himself, the workman.

Relation of this Science to the practical Arts and Sciences.—But aside from the view now presented, the connection of mental science with other and practical arts and sciences is much more intimate than is usually supposed. Take for example the very noblest of all sciences—theology; we find it, in an important sense, based upon and receiving its shape and character from the views which we entertain, and the philosophy which we adopt of the human mind. Our philosophy underlies our theology, even as the solid strata that lie unseen beneath the surface give shape and contour and direction to the lofty mountain range.

Psychology as related to Theology.—Not to speak of the very idea which we form of the divine Being, borrowed as it must be, in a sense, from our previous conception of the human mind, and our own spiritual existence, not to speak of the arguments by which we seek to establish the existence of the divine Being, involving as they do some of the nicest and most important of the laws of human thought, what problems, we may ask, go deeper into the groundwork of any theological system than those pertaining to human ability, and the freedom of the will—the government of the affections and desires—the power of a man over himself, to be other and better than he is, and to do what God requires. But these are questions purely psychological. You cannot stir a step in the application of theology to practical life, till you have settled in some way these questions, and that view, whatever it be, crude or profound, intelligible or absurd, is, for the time, your science, your philosophy of the mind.

Psychology as related to the healing Art.—Scarcely less intimate is the connection of psychology with the science of life. The physician finds in the practice of his profession, that in order to success, the laws of the human mind must constitute an important part of his study—how to avoid, and how to touch, the secret springs of human action. A word rightly spoken is often better than a medicine. In order to comprehend the nature of disease he must understand the effect on the bodily organization of the due, and also of the undue, exertion of each of the mental faculties; in fine, the whole relation of the mind to the bodily functions, and its influence over them—a field of inquiry as yet but imperfectly understood, if indeed adequately appreciated by the medical profession.

As related to Oratory.—To the public speaker, whether at the bar, in the public assembly, in the halls of legislation, or in the pulpit, it need hardly be said that a knowledge of this science, and the ability to make practical use of it, is indispensable. Success in oratory depends, doubtless, in a measure, upon other things; but he who best understands the laws and operations of the human mind, how to touch the sensibilities, how to awaken the passions, how to excite the fears and the hopes, how to rouse the resentment of his hearers, how to soothe the troubled spirits, and allay the excitement of feeling, and disarm prejudice, and call into play the sober reason and calm judgment of man, will best be able to accomplish his purpose. He will be able to turn to his own account the circumstances of the occasion, and like a skillful organist, touch with ease, yet with precision and effect, what key he will. No man can do this who does not well understand the instrument.

As related to the Art of Education.—Especially is this science of use to the teacher in the knowledge which it gives him of the mind of his pupil, and the skill in dealing with that mind. The mind of the pupil is to him the instrument on which he is required to play—a curious instrument of many and strange keys and stops—capable of being touched to wonderful harmony, and to fearful discord;—and to handle this instrument well is no ordinary acquirement. What shall we say of the man who knows nothing of the instrument, but only the music to be performed, nothing of the mind to be taught, but only the knowledge to be communicated? To know the mind that is to be taught, how to stimulate, how to control, how to encourage, how to restrain, how to guide and direct its every movement and impulse, is not this the very first and chief thing to be known?

Connection of this Science with our own personal Interests.—The importance of mental science is evident not only from its relation to other sciences, but from the relation it sustains to man and his higher interests. Some sciences interest us as abstractions—merely speculative systems of truth; others as realities, but of such a nature, and so remote from the personal interests and wants of the race to which we belong, that they make little appeal to our sensibilities. Thus it is with mathematical and astronomical truth. The heavenly bodies, whose movements we observe, hold on their swift silent way, in the calmness of their own eternity, regardless of man and his destiny, even as they rolled ages ago, and as they will ages hence. What have we to do with them or they with us? We watch them as they hold their course through the deep firmament, as children, standing on the sea-side, watch the distant snowy sail that glides silently along the horizon, afar off, beautiful, unknown. So sail those swift ships of the firmament, and only he who made them knows their history.

Psychology in contrast with other Sciences in this respect.—But when we come to the study of ourselves, and the laws of our own intelligence, our inquiries assume a practical importance which attaches to no other departments of truth. It is no longer the sail dimly visible on the far horizon, but our own conscious being that is the object of thought. The question no longer is, Whence comes that swift ship, and whither goes it, but, What am I, and whither going; what my history, and my destiny? This mysterious soul which animates me, and is the presiding divinity over all my actions, what is it, with all its wondrous faculties—sense, imagination, reason, will—those powers of my being? What is that change which passes upon me, which men call sleep, and that more mysterious and fearful change that must soon pass upon me, and that men call death? How is it that events of former years come back to mind, with all the freshness and reality of passing scenes? What is that principle of my nature that ever assumes to itself the right of command, saying to all my inclinations and passions, thou shalt, and thou shalt not, and when I disobey that mandate, filling my whole soul with misery, my whole future existence with remorse? And what and whence that word ought, that has so much to do with me and my pursuits: ought what, and why ought, and to whom?—Am I free, or am I subject to inevitable necessity; if free, then how are all my actions controlled, and predetermined by a divine Providence? If not free, then how am I responsible? Who shall solve this problem; who shall read me this strange inexplicable riddle of human life? Such are the questions and themes which mental philosophy discusses, and we perceive at a glance their intimate connection with the highest interests and personal wants of man as an individual.

Connection of this Science with mental Discipline.—The importance of mental science may be further apparent in its effect on the culture and discipline of the mind. It is the peculiar effect of this science to sharpen and quicken the mental powers, to teach precision and exactness of thought and expression, to train the mind to habits of close attention and concentration of thought, to lead it to inquire into the causes and relations of things; in a word, to render it familiar with the great art of distinguishing things that differ. It would hardly be possible to name another branch of study that tends so directly to produce these results in the cultivation of the mind.