tion, excepting what is termed involuntary, without a concurrent act of the will; and it is equally obvious. that action, in its various forms, embraces the multiplied duties, and is the foundation of the usefulness of man.

Now if these views be correct, and if we wholly dissever the understanding from action, where is its utility? If the highest exertions of the intellect can lead to no possible results, except the mere accumulation of an inoperative and lifeless mass of knowledge, what are the benefits connected with it? But if we are not prepared to admit that the intellect, which is so important a part of man's nature, is without practical worth, it necessarily follows that its value depends in a great degree upon its connexion with the Will, inasmuch as the Understanding can have no connexion with action exterior to itself, and independently of its own accumulative processes, except in the direction and with the concurrent movement of the volitional power. And on these grounds, among others, we may assert the relationship and the inti mate connexion of these two great departments of the mind.

§ 6. Further proof from an observation of the conduct of men. In addition to the considerations which have already been brought forward, we may find further proofs of the connexion which is alleged to exist, in our manner of addressing men when we wish them to pursue a certain course. We do not address the Will directly and alone, nor do we directly address ourselves to the emotions and passions of men; but we commonly lay the basis of our efforts in a movement on the intellect. We make this statement with a great degree of confidence, and we appeal to every one's recollection whether it be not true.

A person, for instance, wishes another person to join with him in some enterprise; and perhaps it is one of an exciting and difficult nature. But where does he begin? Does he immediately lay a requisition upon

the will, commanding and requiring the individual to enter upon the proposed course at once? Every one must see that this, except in cases where a person has deliberately surrendered his will to another, as in that of the soldier, would certainly defeat his own purpose. If, therefore, he would indulge the hope of succeeding, he must act upon the Will, by taking advantage of the relations which it sustains to other parts of our mental nature. Accordingly, he commences his attempts by an appeal to the understanding, endeavouring to show, by plain and incontrovertible statements, the practicability, propriety, and benefits of his propositions; and he knows perfectly well, that, unless he succeeds in convincing the understanding, he has no prospect of rousing the will to action, and that the probability of a favourable movement on the part of the volitional power will be in proportion, or nearly so, to the favourable position of the intellect.

§ 7. Illustration of the statements of the preceding section. On the death of Julius Cæsar, Antony is represented by Shakspeare, who well knew what process was requisite in effecting such an object, as endeavouring to stir up a "sudden flood of mutiny." But he does not command the multitude, who, in their state of want and ignorance, are ready for almost any purpose, whether good or evil, to go forth at once, and consummate his projects of fire and slaughter. Too shrewd an observer of human nature for this, it is worthy of notice, that he addresses neither the will nor the passions till he had first made a lodgment in the understanding. After saying, in excuse of his coming to speak at Cæsar's funeral, that Cæsar was a just and faithful friend to himself, he goes on to state (what probably were the plain and undoubted facts in the case), that Cæsar had brought to Rome many captives; that by their ransom-money he had filled the public coffers; that he had wept over the sufferings of the poor; and that he had refused a kingly crown at the Lupercal. These statements, which were mere

facts addressed to the understanding, and some of them at least, and probably all of them, were incontrovertible, of course laid the foundation for a change in the passions, as they were designed to do. And the people, who just before had called Cæsar a tyrant, and were glad that Rome was rid of him, now began to admit, under the influence of a nascent leniency of feeling, that there was much reason in Antony's sayings, and that Cæsar had suffered wrong.

Having thus prepared the way by removing the hostile feelings that antecedently existed, he now began to ply them in another direction. He told them of the greatness of Cæsar; of the power which he had once exercised; of his ability to stand against not one nation merely, but the whole world, though now so low that none would do him reverence. And when, still continuing to approach the feelings by facts first addressed to the perceptive powers, he further proceeded to show them the bloody mantle, and to speak of the Testament which bequeathed to them his bountiful legacies, the passions, which had already begun to quicken in Cæsar's favour, were kindled to a flame. It was then that the object of the speaker was accomplished, as he foresaw it would be. There was no want of motives, no hesitancy of the will. The multitude, with this new basis of action thus adroitly laid in their intellectual natures, were no longer the friends of Brutus; nor were they indifferent and idle spectators. But rushing from street to street, and seizing such weapons as their purposes required, they called for revenge, slaughters, and burnings.

§ 8. Nature of the connexion between the intellect and will. Presuming enough has been said, at least for the present, in support of the actual existence of the connexion we are inquiring into, we are now prepared to say something of its nature. Although the connexion really exists, and is of very prominent importance, it is not meant to be said that it is a direct one. In other words, the Intellect, whatever opinions may have

formerly prevailed on the subject, is, in no case, in direct contact with the Will. When, therefore, we speak of the operation of the intellect upon the will, we mean an indirect or circuitous operation; that is to say, one which is carried on through the mediation of the sensibilities, under which term we include the various forms of the natural or pathematic emotions and of the desires, together with moral emotions and feelings of obligation.

The appropriate and distinctive object of the Intellect is knowledge. But knowledge alone has no tendency to control volition. It is possible for a person in the exercise of his intellectual powers to possess unlimited knowledge, to explore and exhaust every field of inquiry; and yet, if his knowledge be unattended with feeling, if it be followed by no form of emotion or desire, or obligatory sentiment, it will leave the Will perfectly indifferent and motionless. Any other supposition is at variance with every day's experience.

A certain person, for example, comes to the conclusion, after a long train of reasoning, that the possession of a definite amount of property would be beneficial to himself and family. This conclusion is of course the result of a purely intellectual process. But if it be not followed by sentimentive action; in other words, if it be unattended with emotions, desires, and feelings of obligation, it will altogether fail to arouse the will to activity or to secure a single effort. In the constitution of the human mind, everywhere so full of wisdom, the Sensibilities, which are as different from the will as from the intellect, are located between the two. They form the connecting link which binds them together. To strike out the sensibilities, therefore, is necessarily to excavate a gulf of separation between the intellect and the will, which is forever impassable. There is from that moment no medium of communication, no bond of union, no reciprocal action.

§ 9. Opinions of Locke and Mackintosh on this point. Here is one point, as those who are acquainted with the history of philosophical opinions will probably recollect, on which writers on the Will have sometimes fallen into great error, viz., in placing the intellectual in juxtaposition with the voluntary or volitional power, and supposing the latter to be under the direct operation of the former. Mr. Locke himself seems to have been of this opinion at first, and to have published to the world his belief, that the understanding, forming an estimate of what is the greatest good, is the direct and immediate means of controlling the Will. But he afterward, on more mature examination, announced, with the honesty and love of truth for which he is so celebrated, his decided change of opinion." It seems," says he, "so established and settled a maxim, by the general consent of all mankind, that good, the greater good, determines the will, that I do not at all wonder that, when I first published my thoughts on this subject, I took it for granted; and I imagine that by a great many I shall be thought more excusable for having done so, than that now I have ventured to recede from so received an opinion. But yet, upon a stricter inquiry, I am forced to conclude, that good, the greater good, though apprehended and acknowledged to be so, does not determine the will, until our desire, raised proportionably to it, makes us uneasy in the want of it. Convince a man ever so much that plenty has its advantages over poverty; make him see and own that the handsome conveniences of life are better than nasty penury; yet, as long as he is content with the latter, and finds no uneasiness in it, he moves not; his will is never determined to any action that shall bring him out of it. Let a man be ever so well persuaded of the advantages of virtue, that it is as necessary to a man who has any great aims in this world, or hopes in the next, as food to life; yet, till he hungers and thirsts after righteousness, till he feels an uneasiness in the want of it, his will will not be determined to any action in