The Press. — London, England, 1854-06-24 00:00:00

JUNE 24, 1854. Sittraturt. Psychological Inquiries. In a Series of Essays. London: Longmans. A SERIES of essays on psychology, from the pen of Sir Benjamin Brodie (for we believe that the authorship of this work is no secret), necessarily commands attention. The faseina tion which surrounds that most mysterious of all subjects, the connection of body and mind, invites the speculations of quackery, whence the sanction of a distinguished name, guaran teeing in some sort the soundness of the writer's deductions, becomes doubly impor tant. Nor is this all. Nobody cares to know what Mr. A. or Mr. B. may have to say about the signs of approaching death ; but Sir Ben jamin Brodie's assertions on such a subject, confirmed by the experience of many thou sand cases, carry with them the weight and stamp of authority. The following are his most important statements :—" The mind is " often, perhaps usually, active up to the " moment of dissolution, even where the " bodily appearances presented are those of " complete stupor." Drowning persons, after wards brought to life, have affirmed that their whole previous existence seemed to pass before them in an instant of time. Death by drowning is not a painful process : the memory of those who have been saved seldom retains any unpleasant impression. One pa tient declared " that the last thing he remem " bared was looking at the pebbles and weeds " at the bottom of the river, with little or no " fear of what was about to happen, and no " bodily suffering." With the exception of a few complaints, such as hydrophobia and delirium tremens, this general rule of painless dissolution holds good. Some have fallen asleep in extreme old age, and never awaked, thus passing away in apparent unconscious ness of their end. It would seem that in the last moments of life neither religious nor any other influences are utr.:ally strong. Dreams are next discussed, as also the problem, " What is sleep ?" which our author declares insoluble. The sense of weariness appears confined to those functions over which the will has power : all involuntary actions are continued through our resting as well as waking hours. Sleep "accumulates the ner " vous force, which is gradually exhausted" during the day ; but these are words only, for who can define or explain the "nervous " force "? Darwin's axiom, " that the essen " tial part of sleep is the suspension of roll " tion," still holds good, and is accepted as satisfactory. Talking and moving in sleep, though apparently phenomena irreconcilable with this theory, are not so in reality; for there are degrees of sleep, and these things only occur where the slumber is imperfect. It may be urged, again, that the mere absence of volition would not produce that insensibility to sight and sound which is the characteristic of the sleeper. But few persons are aware how much the will is concerned in the recep tion of impressions on the senses. One who is absorbed in reading or writing will not hear words addressed to him in the ordinary tone, though their physical effect on the ear must be the same as usual. Dreams are inexpli cable : Lord Brougham suggested that they took place only in the momentary state of transition from sleep to waking; but facts con tradict this theory, since persons will mutter to themselves, and utter inarticulate sounds, indicative of dreaming, at intervals of several minutes. The common puzzle as to how dreams apparently long can pass in a moment of time presents no difficulty to the psycholo gist. Life is not measured by hours and days, but by the number of new impressions received ; and the limit to these is in the world without us, not in the constitution of our minds. To a child, whose imagination r constantly excited by new objects, twelve months seem a much longer period than to a man. As we advance in life, time flies faster. The butterfly, living for a single season, may really enjoy a longer existence than the , tor- Wise, whose years exceed a century. Even between the busy and the idle among human beings there exists a similar difference, though less strongly marked. THE PRESS. Sir Benjamin, if we may assume the opinion expressed by his interlocutors to be his own, puts no faith in phrenology. He considers the apportionment of the brain to various organs as a merely fanciful theory, and the judgment of character, to which practised phrenologists have attained, as the result of mere conjecture. Dr. Gall, the founder of the science, was led into some ludicrous errors in his attempts to determine the temperaments of individuals to him unknown. Then the definitions of the various organs are so gene ral as scarcely to admit the possibility of entire error : But, even if the errors of phrenology were less nume rous than I believe them to be, that would not go far tow ards convincing me of the value of their art. It is not very difficult for a clever observer of human nature to form a notion of some part of a man's character in the course of a brief conversation with him ; and an enthusi ast in phrenology may very honestly persuade himself that he has obtained from the examination of his head that knowledge which he has really obtained from other sources. Then observe how comprehensive the faculties and pro pensities of the phrenological system are supposed to be. A large development of the organ of destructiveness in the head of Hare the murderer explained how it was that he was led to murder sixteen human beings that ho might sell their bodies. But in the head of another person who never committed a murder it is sufficient to find that it exists in combination with a disposition to satire, or to deface milestones ; and in the beaver and squirrel it ex plains how it is that these animals are impelled to cut and tear in pieces the bark, leaves, and branches of trees for the innocent purpose of constructing their cabins and nests. So the large size of the organ of acquisitiveness not only leads one person to be a thief and another to hoard, but it also explains the habits of the spendthrift (who does not hoard at all ); and it impels storks and swallows to return after their migrations to establish themselves, each succeeding year, in the same locality. Following these examples, I do not see that a phrenologist can have much difficulty in finding a character for every individual suited to the particular configuration of his head. It has been usually held that large heads are more powerful and thinking machines than small ones, and, as a general rule, experience justifies the conclusion. But Newton, Byron, and others were exceptions to it ; and it is quite certain that a large brain may be accom panied with the most dense stupidity. Many remarks scattered through this little treatise are worth the recollection of all ages and classes. " The failure of the mind in old " age," says Sir Benjamin, "is often less the " result of natural decay than of disuse." Ambition has ceased to operate; contentment brings indolence ; indolence, decay of mental .power, ennui, and sometimes death, Men have been known to die, literally speaking, of disease induced by intellectual vacancy. On the other hand, the amount of possible mental labour is far less than many persons imagine. If professional men are enabled to work twelve or fifteen hours daily, that is because most of their business has become, from habit, mere matter of routine. From four to six hours is probably the utmost daily period for which real exertion of the mind can be carried on. Modern education is likewise touched upon. It errs, according to the author, not in defect, but excess. The teaching designed for, and which is good for, ordinary intellects is apt to check and stint those of a naturally superior quality. But, as the nature of individual minds cannot be known until education has been carried to a certain point, it is difficult to see how this fault can be remedied, except by giving a large choice and variety of studies, so as to offer some that may attract all learners. And such is actually the tendency our mo dern system in its latest phase. If we were to offer any criticism on this work we should remark that the dialogue form adopted is rather a hindrance than a help. Conversations are only useful where differ• ences of character are to be displayed or oppo site opinions elicited. But here the interlo cutors generally agree, and any remark made by one of them might be equally attributed to the others. The dialogue is, in fact, merely an interrupted essay. Hide and Seek. By W. Wilkie Collins. 3 vols. London : Bentley. MR. WILRIK COLLINS is a tantalising writer. Very ambitious in the selection of his subjects, and displaying a great parade of language, he disappoints the expectations which his pre tensions have awakened. Reared in an atmo sphere of art, his writings exhibit the thinking 591 of a painter and the style of a rhetorician. A strong sense of colour, a gushing power of utterance, and great pleasure in the labours of composition, are the resources on which he seeks to rear a i eputation as a novelist. But these are only a small pit of the powers re quired for describing human nature, or inte resting the affections of the heart. Mr. Collins declaims where he should describe, and he constantly confounds lively description with original invention. There is a certain amount of attractive force in the resonance of his ringing rhetoric, but he exhibits no reserved strength indicative of a serene sense of moral beauty, and giving evidence of genuine inspi ration. He has either not seen enough of life to find subjects for a novelist's pen, or else he has not studied nature on a proper method. " Hide and Seek" exhibits another of the defects of this very animated but too facile writer. There is too great prominence given to unpleasing characters, and repulsive sub jects are described with profuse detail. The work is dedicated to Mr. Dickens, and we constantly meet pages which the author evi dently penned under the recollection of that eminent writer's peculiar talent for giving us " sun pictures " of the externals of London life. But Mr. Wilkie Collins is sparingly gifted with humour, and common life can be made interesting only by genial sympathy with the hearty fun and small sorrows that make up so large a portion of the routine of vulgar existence. Romantic fiction, with strong plots and melodramatic characters, is the ground which, for the present, this amb tious writer should occupy. " Hide and Seek," with the defects indi cated, is greatly superior to the common run of novels, and is worth perusal by those who seek for their mental excitement in the circu lating libraries. While retaining his French vivacity of style, the author has avoided those very coarse incidents which were so censurable in "Basil," an addiction to which would be perilous in this country to a popular writer. One of the leading characters in " Hide and Seek" is a painter, with whose professional aspirations the author seeks to interest us, and we are introduced to a view behind the scenes of artistic life. The antecedents of Mr. Wilkie Collins supplied him hero with ample matter for description, but after all he only shows us the externals of his art hero. He sketches his room and his exhibition of pictures with the facility of a writer familiar with his subject ; but we miss the vitalising power that creates character. Although the matter is often unpleasing, we prefer the second volume, where we have more rapid action, and more vigorous subjects. " Zack," the son of Mr. Zachary Thorpe, of Baregrove square, London, is the character of the novel. Thorpe senior is drawn at full length as the personification of external respectability, righteous overmuch, yet writhing under pangs of conscience that remind him he is not better than his neighbours. The gloomy religionism which pervades his mansion is well painted, and the son is described as a being in whose nature the reaction against the routine of his dreary home goes too far, and plunges him into excesses, amidst which he meets with singular companions. One of the most elaborated characters in the book is that of " Marksman," but, though drawn with distinct ness, it has an unreal air. The whole novel exhibits great variety and energy of composi tion. Many acute reflections are scatterecithrough the hook ; one on the meanness of'middle life in England, which so often sacrifices comfbrt to show and character to imitation, is ad mirable : To the lookepon at the system of prevailing among the moderate incomes in England, the sort of existence which, with certain pleasant exceptions, that system ern- - bodies, seems in some aspects . to 'be without a •parallel in any other part of the civilised 'world. In what other country but others is social enjoyment among the middle classes with small means, deliberately denuded of all geunine sub stance of its own, for the sake of making ft the faint re flection of social enjoyment among the higher classes with large means? Is this done anywhere else but in England? And is it not obviously true—nielancholy' truth —that, while the upper classes and the lower classes of our so ciety have each their own characteristic and genuine re creations for leisure hours, adapted equally to their means and to their tastes, the middle classes, in general, have (to expose the sad reality) nothing of the sort? 46 , t .;~ 4