Falstaff's exaggerations and accuracy in detail, are an admirable exemplification of these obvious principles. It is however no uncommon occurrence to stigmatize as a mental delusion any singular or unaccountable perception. It is very easy to do so, and extremely satisfactory to our own vanity; but here also a wise man will pause. He will limit the testimony solely to the sensations described. He will remember that the organs of perception, in all their minuteness and delicacy, are still not often deranged; that there is a wide difference between that state of mind, in which, as in sleep and insanity, pre-existent trains of association seem to run confusedly and wildly into ideas produced immediately by disorder in our physical functions, and that state in which our mere animal impressions are scarcely felt, and the mind is all awake, with its senses ready at hand to join mutually in the detection of fallacies. And when the truth of principles is the question, he will guard against the vulgar presumption of estimating another's sobriety by his own insensibility and coldness; of stamping as enthusiasm and folly all the beautiful poetry of our nature; and ridiculing as madness that instinctive wisdom of the heart which never leads us Ꭰ wrong, or misses its end; but blends our interests, our affections, and our duties into one grand and indissoluble whole. The examination of evidence by the moral character of the witness is the last point to be considered. From what has been already observed, it is impossible for any one to assert a deliberate falsehood, without acting mechanically from habit, or being swayed by some interested motive, and a motive sufficiently strong to overpower the first instincts of nature. As falsehood, therefore, is improbable in itself, and unnatural: this difficulty may, at any rate, be brought to weigh against a certain degree of improbability in the fact; and when we can discover no motive, it should leave our belief unbiassed. Again, the motive we choose to assign, should be open and palpable, not fictitious or petty. We have a deviation from nature to account for; and the cause which we assign, must be adequate to the effect. The interests, moreover, at stake, ought accurately to be weighed and compared. The interest of life is paramount to all others a man, therefore, who dies in confirmation of his assertion, is entitled to unhesitating confidence. The chances of detection, also, tend to nullify an object; and that object must be a great, certain, and permanent good, not a mere creation of caprice, or the indulgence of a fluctuating passion, to produce a steady and constant adherence to a fiction, through any length of time, or any great variety of circumstances. And hence the moral impossibility of protracting even self-delusion beyond a certain point, since the effort will not be made, when the object ceases to charm: a bad object is perpetually varying; and a good one seldom leads to deceit. Lastly, since testimony may be conveyed, not only through a single individual, but simultaneously, by many; or, consecutively, through a series of traditions, we have only to remember, that in the former case an agreement in essentials, and a slight variation in circumstances, is the most perfect test of practical truth, which human nature is capable of receiving. It is better than the evidence of our senses, since there we have only one witness, with the chance of a mental delusion; and here we have many at once, without any sign of conspiracy. And the real authority of such testimony is not the least diminished in comparison, by the fact, that our belief in our senses is much more unhesitating and certain; if, indeed, that belief we have shewn to be nothing but the mechanical effect of a physical alteration in our organs. So, also, in the second case, even where the accounts which we receive are all of them copied and borrowed, though the accidental features will vary at each transmission, still the main fact, at every stage, will acquire an additional sanction, since the more generations assent to it, the more close must be its conformity to nature. And if this second criterion of truth be added to the former, and that again to individual testimony, we undoubtedly possess, in the combination, the nearest approach to moral demonstration, the most satisfactory evidence for matters of fact, not only which man can procure, but which man, in his present constitution, can possibly conceive to exist. Give us the human mind, framed as it is, (and why not differently framed, is no concern of ours) and bid us, without working a miracle, to change its nature, convey to it a belief in certain actual occurrences, the method we should undoubtedly choose would be the one which has here been described. Our propositions are not identical, and we cannot demonstrate them. If addressed to the senses, those senses are fallacious in themselves, and can only be kept in correction by appealing to the senses of others. The reality, indeed, of a thing, is nothing to us, but the belief, that it acts on the minds of others precisely as it acts upon our own. It is thus that a single sense supports itself by appeals to the rest; and the unanimous agreement of them all, still requires the confirmation of our neighbour. The dagger of Macbeth was not real, for though the eye saw it, to the hand it was impalpable. So the vision which I see, is not real, for no other person perceives it; and the beauty which I admire, is not real, for to others it is just the reverse. The reality, then, of a fact, its actual external occurrence cannot possibly be inferred from our senses: without testimony, it cannot be proved. The more numerous the witnesses, the better the proof; and the longer the sufficiency of the proof, and the internal probability of the fact, has been confirmed by the agreement of men, the nearer does our evidence approach to full and satisfactory perfection. Add to this, the disinterested testimony of living and competent men; competent to form an opinion upon the accuracy of statements and deductions which we have not time to examine. Set against the want of what is vulgarly called ocular demonstration, but which is no demonstration at all, experience of the working of a system, and the general agreement of mankind, and let us ask ourselves whether, at this day, we are not philoso |