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the comparative extension of the several parts of the same object ? or size but the comparative extension of two separate objects?
The services rendered to us by the organ of Destructiveness (see p. 9) are almost identical with those attributed to Combativeness, except that we are told that one use of Destructiveness is to teach us to kill for food!' which led us to expect some organ whose province it was to dig for food—to roast or boil for food.
The organ of Veneration is not supposed to furnish us with the idea of God, but only with a feeling which may be turned towards that, or any other less sublime object. An organ for veneration, therefore, was superfluous, as this sentiment is evidently resolvable into a mixture of other feelings-love, fear, and admiration.
We are told, and we think with propriety, that Attention ought not to be described as a separate faculty, but as a vigorous exercise of any power of the mind, due to some strong desire to which that power is subservient. Yet when two faculties are in simultaneous activity, it seems that a third power is found necessary, called Concentrativeness, to keep them applied to their task. This is exactly repeating of Concentrativeness what had been exploded when applied to Attention. What office does this new agent perform which was not fulfilled already by that emotion or desire to which the two faculties were acting in subservience? Or does Mr. Combe intend, after assigning a certain passion to the mind, to provide it with another power simply to infuse strength into that passion, and sustain it in its functions?
But we are more disposed to insist on that deficiency of organization which, notwithstanding this slovenly superfluity, is manifest on other occasions. Some doubt may hang over the clearest analyses of our mental operation ; and the resolution of a complex feeling into others of a more simple nature, can hardly be made so evident as not to admit of cavil or dispute. But if phrenology supplies us with no agent to perform that which nevertheless is undoubtedly accomplished, this is a defect so gross and palpable, that it must prove fatal to the science.
It is a leading doctrine of phrenology that Memory and Judgment are not distinct faculties, but that each faculty has its memory and judgment. Thus tune remembers and judges of tune, locality of place, and so on. It is plain that the mental phenomena admit of being classed after this fashion. We may, if we please, arrange our intellectual acts according to the objects about which they are engaged, and not the nature of the operations themselves. In like manner, if we had chosen, instead of speaking of the general faculty of vision, we might have made our classification to run upon the various objects of sight, and spoken of book-sight, treesight, man-sight. We prefer the old method of generalizing, but
since the phrenologist has adopted another, we have only now to
distinct species of object on which memory and judgment are exercised, we shall find å woful deficiency. The eye affords us the perception of colour, and the sense of touch that of extension; but, as there is no such thing as a general faculty of memory or judgment, a colour-organ which remembers and judges of colour—and a form-organ which remembers and judges of form—are supplied to us.
But we have two other senses— -those of taste and smell. It is undeniable that we remember and judge of the sensations offered to us by the palate and the olfactory nerves, yet we have no taste-organ and no smell-organ to perform these functions which, without any question, are performed. We leave the reader to follow this out further for himself. He will find that it reveals an enormous gap in the system of phrenology.
A word on the explanation given of memory. It is denied to be an original faculty, and is described as the repeated activity of the organ under whose cognizance the subject of remembrance is placed. This might be a sufficiently accurate account of what, in the language of Stewart, is called conception. But there is in memory something more than the recurrence of the image—there is the recognition of its having been entertained before. Why should not the image appear always new ?-always perceived, or thought of, as for the first time?' The renewed activity of the organ supplies us with a repetition of the sensation or idea, but the very circumstance, by the addition of which it becomes a case of memory, is left unexplained. Resolve this if you will—and it is the simplest account which has ever been attempted-into an association with previous trains of thought, and still it is unexplained by the phrenologist.
If we are told that the organ which is said to remember not only repeats the image, but does this with a consciousness of having produced it before, then, since its second mode of activity is so different from the first, what is gained by denying memory to be an original faculty? All that the phrenologist has done is this
- he has made it a distinct original faculty of each of his remembering organs.
There is not a better established fact in the science of metaphysics than that dur ideas and feelings, by frequent association, coalesce, so as to become apparently one simple idea, or feeling. This is strikingly exemplified in an act of vision, which is allowed, on all hands, to be not a simple process, but a result of certain inextricable associations of the products of the eye, the touch, and
the muscular movement. Here is something accomplished by the mind—we ourselves attempt no further explanation of it-we speak of it as an undoubted, ultimate fact. What provision has the phrenologist made for the performance of this mental operation? His organs have each their independent consciousnessthere is no other consciousness of which he can speak—there is no such thing as a general power called the mind which the phrenologist can call upon to mould and unite the products of the several organs. How is this mental chemistry performed ? · Association,' we are instructed, “ expresses the mutual influence of the organs.' While association refers only to the successive activity of these organs, this may contain sufficient explanation, but no 'mutual influence' which we can conceive of, can account for one simple consciousness resulting from the activity of several independent organs. Let it not be said that the rapidity of successive operations has this effect upon the mind, just as colours painted on a revolving wheel appear white to the eye of a spectator. The mind is nothing here but these operations themselves. The mind is not the eye looking on the wheel, but—to carry forward the illustration—it is the successive colours in the wheel each conscious only of itself.
Into the list of propensities and sentiments we shall not enter. It proceeds upon no intelligible principle. For instance, we have an organ for cupidity—or, as it is called, acquisitiveness—but none for ambition, for the love of power. Reduce this latter sentiment, if you will, to the general desire of happiness, to which the possession of power is subservient, but then apply the same analysis to the case of acquisitiveness. The love of power is as original a passion as the love of wealth. Indeed, avarice has been generally held to submit itself to an analysis of this kind more readily than ambition.
The reflective organs are but two, and even here there is either a superabundance, or a deficiency. To comparison would naturally be attributed all that Locke includes under his customary expression, the perception of the agreement or disagreement of ideas. This seems to embrace the whole province of reasoning. If we are to limit the operation of comparison in order to obtain a department for causality, we shall find, if we act with any consistency, that we have created a want for a still greater number of reflective faculties. · Causality perceives, we are told, the dependencies of phenomena, and it furnishes the idea of causation as implying something more than mere juxta-position, or sequence.' -(p. 24.) By the way, the organ is said to be large upon the head of Dr. Brown, to whom it certainly failed in suggesting any such idea of causation. Now, granting that there is this some
thing more in causation than the prediction that arises from the invariable order of events (a question with which we are not at present concerned), if every leading idea that is involved in our reasoning is to be provided with a separate organ, we cannot stop so soon as this. That every sensation inheres in a sentient being, will be considered by many to be a maxim of belief as well deserving of a separate organ, as that everything which begins to exist has had a cause. The perception of the relation of equality, the foundation of all reasoning in logic and mathematics, might also claim the same honour.
Thus much for phrenology as a theory of the mind. The reader, if he is disposed, can easily carry on the examination for himself. We promise him he will find many more examples of both those defects on which we have been animadverting; but we cannot promise that he will find much entertainment in the investigation. For never yet was language used in a more obscure and slovenly manner than-judging from the specimen before us—by the phrenologist. When you read the bare catalogue of his organs you have some idea—or you think you have—of what is meant by the names attached to them. But on advancing to the description itself of the organ—of its object, and its scope of operation—the confusion thickens just in proportion as the account is prolonged. Take, for instance, the following description of the first in order of the intellectual faculties—Individuality. This faculty,' says Mr. Combe, ' gives the desire, accompanied by the ability, to know objects as mere existences or substances, without regard to their qualities, their modes of action, or their effects.' A strange knowledge of an object this! For how can we know an object but by an acquaintance with its qualities, its modes of action, and its effects? These being withdrawn, what remains but an abstract, unrepresented entity? Perhaps we have fallen upon the organ which, akin to that of causality, supplies us with the metaphysical idea of substance. But no, the residue of the description forbids us to rest in this conclusion. It prompts to observation'—this faculty that overlooks qualities, and modes of action, and effects !' and is an element in a genius for those sciences which consist in a knowledge of specific existences, such as natural history, botany, mineralogy, and anatomy; -all which have nothing to do with qualities and effects! • It forms the class of ideas designated by nouns substantive. When deficient, the power of observation is feeble. Established’!! Established ?
We now proceed to the second part of our subject, the evidence on which this strange theory is founded. And here we cannot be expected to go into particulars, into the discussion of this or that pericranium--the debate would be interminable, and, as we shall
show, necessarily fruitless—but we shall content ourselves with such general remarks on the nature of the evidence, as will go far to prove, we think, its utter inadequacy.
What proof is there, we ask, of the existence of these separate organs of the brain ? No Sir Astley Cooper or Sir Charles Bell, by his finest operation, can detect their presence. No anatomical skill can lay bare from the mass of the brain those distinct conical portions which the language of phrenology leads us to expect; neither has our consciousness ever informed us of the possession of these organs. We readily admit, that the not being immediately conscious of their operation is no proof of their non-existence. In a healthy state of the body we are not aware of the activity of our internal mechanism. The stomach and the liver perform their unimpeded functions in silence and in secrecy; nor are we immediately cognizant of the operations of the organs of sense. If the eye had stood always open, and we had not been assisted to the discovery by other sensations, we should not have attributed the sense of colour to the organ of vision. But the wonder here is that no pain or fatigue-no contemporary sensation whatever-should have conducted us to the knowledge of these organs—that the same circumstances which have rendered us conscious that hearing is in the ear and vision in the eye,
should never have intimated that our intellectual faculties lie in one region of the head, and our passions in another. Was it ever found that one part of the forehead ached while the reader was puzzling at his Locke, and that another throbbed while he hung over the pages
of Milton? Or was it ever discovered that the poet endured pain in the region of ideality—that the temples of the orator ached in comparison, and of the metaphysician in causality? A set of organs, the presence of which no anatomist can detect—the possession of which no fatigue, or derangement, or accessory sensation whatever, has ever rendered us conscious of—must be announced, to
the least, under singular disadvantages.
In the absence of that testimony which we naturally expect of the existence of bodily organs, what is the proof afforded us? We are first supplied with a series of presumptions which should induce us to regard the brain as an aggregate of distinct organs.' Let us hear this string of presumptions
1. • The mental faculties appear and come to maturity successively,-just as in some animals hearing precedes sight.'—A fact as easily explicable on any other hypothesis. For how could the mind reason till materials were supplied ? or how experience certain sentiments till the circumstances had made their appearance on which they are necessarily founded? This order in our mental development is very intelligible--it is not just as some animals hear VOL. LVII. NO. CXIII.