originates in some accompanying mental energy; thus, gravity is not a property of matter, but the exertion of a concealed mind: a hypothesis still more gratuitous; having, indeed, nothing at all to rest upon, except the analogy between the inanimate world and sentient beings, on the mere point of putting forth mechanical force or moving power. In a separate work (Mind and Body') I have discussed at full the concomitance of physical operations with mental processes, and do not here reprint the arguments in reply to Herschell, in my previous editions. Another application of the consciousness of Effort is to make a case for Free-Will, as against 'Determinism,' or the exclusive determination of the voluntary actions by prior states of feeling, that is, motives. The bearing of the point upon this controversy will be considered in the chapter devoted to the subject. At present I remark, that Effort has a strict connexion with motives in the proper sense of the word. If we are resisted in some object, and if the object is of little value, we succumb or yield to the opposition. If the object is of great value, we do not succumb, but make an effort'. The greatness of the effort, the persistence in it, the renewal of it, with accumulated energy, are (to appearance at least) governed by the strength of the motive, and the chances of finally overcoming the resistance. Our strivings after anything are the measure of the value we put upon it. Efforts beyond the value would be altogether irrational on our part; if we were moved by any extraneous cause, or by no cause at all, to put forth an exertion not justified by a suitable motive, our conduct would be, not prudence or duty, but insanity. If we do not put forth an effort in accordance with the value of a thing, it is because we do not adequately feel it; and the motive needs to be strengthened by a course of reflection. If we do feel the motive, and do not act accordingly, there is something defective in our constitution, which may or may not be remediable; but the remedy, whatever it is, can be assigned and reasoned about, like any other phenomenon of cause and effect. CHAPTER VIII. DESIRE. 1. DESIRE is that phase of volition where there is a motive, but not ability to act upon it. The inmate of a small gloomy chamber conceives to himself the pleasure of light and of an expanded prospect; the unsatisfying ideal urges the appropriate action for gaining the reality; he gets up and walks out. Suppose, now, that the same ideal delight comes into the mind of a prisoner. Unable to fulfil the prompting, he remains under the solicitation of the motive; and his state is denominated craving, longing, appetite, Desire. If all motive impulses could be at once followed up, desire would have no place. The state of craving is thus, in the first place, a want or deficiency, an inferior level of happiness. In the second place, there is the idea or conception of some delight, with the notion that the ideal form is much below the realized condition; consequent on which is a motive to the will to compass the reality. And, thirdly, there is a bar in the way of acting, which leads to the state of conflict, and renders desire a more or less painful frame of mind. 2. We have a form of desire in all our more protracted operations, or when we are working for distant ends. The suppression of the state of craving is complete, only when the gratification is under the hand; as, when I become thirsty, having a glass of water on the table before me. If I have to ring a bell, and send some one off to fetch the water, I remain under the urgency, but in a modified shape, seeing that I am bringing about my sure relief. In such cases, Desire is synonymous with pursuit, industry, or voluntary action for distant, intermediate, or comprehensive ends. Many of our pleasures and pains have names that denote them, not in their actuality, but in the condition of desire and pursuit. Thus, 'avarice' expresses, not the fruition, but the pursuit of wealth. There is no name for the pure pleasure of knowledge; 'curiosity' signifies the state of active desire. So with 'ambition;' to indicate the real gratification we are obliged to use complex phrases, as the pleasure of power,' 'the sentiment of power possessed and exercised'. It would be to repeat what has been already said respecting the regular operation of the will, to exemplify desire in connection with active pursuit. The only form remaining to be considered is the case where the thing sought is out of reach. The question thus arises-What are the courses open to us? Very frequently we experience pains that prompt to action in vain, as regards their alleviation; or we feel actual pleasures slipping away before we have had our fill of them; or we conceive ideal pleasures not to be realized. Neither by present exertion, nor by postponed, but sure, opportunities of action, can we obey the mandate to work for pleasure or to remove pain. 3. The first alternative is described by the names endurance, resignation, contentment, acquiescence, patience, fortitude. In consequence of the pain of the conflict, and the impossibility of terminating it by fruition, the will is urged to suppress the longing itself, by dismissing the idea from the thoughts. The craving for unattainable wealth, or for a hopeless affection, may be met by a grand effort not to entertain the ideal as a subject of contemplation. This is to induce the state of contentment. When the longing is for fancied bliss, as when people sigh after honour, splendour, power, or unusable wealth, the coercion of the intellectual trains may be such as to restore the quiet of the mind. It is different when we are under the pressure of some actual pain-as physical agony, destitution, contumely, oppression, the privation of what we are accustomed to; for granting that we suppress the thought of relief, we have still to bear up against the irritation. The counter-volition of endurance now consists in our being urged, by the pains of spasmodic gesticulation and fruitless endeavour, to remain still; restraining both the diffusive manifestations and the vain attempts at relief. Under this stern regimen, the system more quickly adapts itself to the new situation, and the fortitude is rewarded by a mitigation of the pain. The misery of fruitless endeavour is not the sole motive inspiring this forced composure of the irritated frame. The waste of valuable strength in these struggles, the feeling of dignity associated in the mind with endurance, the approbation that it brings, and the reprobation so often given to the impatient temper,-all concur in moving the counter resolution of forced quietism. The history of the world is full of wonderful feats of endurance, and these not limited to civilized peoples. The fortitude of the old Spartan in physical suffering and privation is rivalled or surpassed by the Indian fakeer, and the American savage. Endurance is talked of as being either physical or moral. The fact is, that it applies to every one of the long catalogue of our possible pains, whether those that are so in their first origin, or those that arise from the privation of some pleasure. All the disagreeables reaching us through the senses, and all the modes of emotion that belong to the side of suffering, stimulate the will into action, and, if an effectual means of alleviation is known, that is followed out. If the means are unknown, one attempt after another will be entered upon; and, if nothing succeeds, the secondary vexation of conflict, disappointment and unrest, will overtake us. Rather than go on with this new evil, we fall back upon the quiet endurance of the first; which, however, cannot be done except by a new act of will, dictated and kept up by the suffering of abortive action, and by those other considerations that make up a powerful array of motives in favour of the patient attitude. The same counteractive may be brought into play, when we are torn and exhausted by the extreme outbursts of the emotional manifestation. It has been seen that pain may, in one set of circumstances, run out into violent expression, and, in others, to volition. In both cases, we may incur new evil, to a greater extent than we obtain relief, and hence arises a motive for the total suppression of both outgoings. It is within the power of the will to suppress the diffusive movements of a strong emotion, by bringing a force to bear upon the voluntary members in the first instance, and by that control of the thoughts, that is the most direct method accessible to us for affecting the states of consciousness in their inmost recesses. It may indeed be a question, whether or not the secondary force be strong enough to cope with the primary, that being either a voluntary stimulus or an emotional wave. Anything like the complete endurance of all the incurable pains that come over the human being is not a usual endowment, nor can it be bred without a superior force of voluntary determinations generally, as compared with the other impulses of the system, together with a protracted education on this special head. There are some minds specially sensitive to those secondary pains now alluded to, with whom, therefore, the motive to quietism has more than ordinary efficacy. Goethe may be quoted as a case in point. Being so constituted as to suffer acutely the nervous exhaustion of internal conflict, such minds are strongly induced to throw the whole weight of the voluntary impetus into the scale of prevention, or to concentrate in one conflict the decision of the mind, instead of suffering the distraction of many. It is possible even to form a passionate attachment to a serene mode of life, so as to surrender many positive pleasures rather than not realize the end. 4. So much for one solution of the problem of ungratified impulse or desire.* It is not given to every one to suceed in * I have not introduced into the text any notice of those antidotes common to Desire with all other forms of pain. The uneasiness of ineffectual craving may be quenched by drawing upon some of our stores of pleasure. It is in this way that we appease the longings of infancy, and prevent the mischiefs of a too rampant appetite. As it is the prerogative of pleasure to neutralize the sting of pain, we apply pleasure to silence the restlessness secondary to suffering, as well as the primary irritation. The mind accepts a substitute for what is longed for. Another device of familiar application is the diversion of the thoughts from the subject that has caused the state of craving. When this originates |