CHAPTER XIII.

TEMPERAMENTS.

THE body is constituted by the union of the circulatory, respiratory, assimilative, absorbent, secerning, muscular, and nervous systems, which all act together under laws, and with apparatus peculiar to each, and equally marvelous in all, for the purpose of rearing up and maintaining a complication of organized machinery pervaded and preserved by one life, and actuated by one soul. The failure of either of these systems arrests the action of the whole; for although they are distinct in parts and in power, they are indivisible in operation and mutual dependence, but yet either may, to a certain extent, predominate, and it is this predominance which, in fact, confers peculiarity of temperament. Galen was the first to classify temperaments, but he founded his division on error, according to the ancient notion of the four elements; and as the Greek philosophers taught that air, water, fire, and earth possessed corresponding qualities of heat, cold, dryness, and moisture, so the supposed components of the human body—blood, phlegm, bile, and black bile—were represented as giving rise to the corresponding sanguine, phlegmatic, choleric, and melancholic temperaments. Such distinctions, however, do not exist in nature, and temperaments are as diversified as the state and circumstances of each body. Yet a certain preponderance in either of the systems may be manifest; and as the fitness of the body for the uses of

the mind mainly depends upon their proper adjustment, it will be more correct to characterize temperaments by any marked excess in the relative development of either of those systems. In order, however, to conform to usage in this chapter, the familiar terms will be adopted with the understanding that the sanguine temperament is connected with a free circulation of blood, and a corresponding respiration; the phlegmatic, or lymphatic, with vigor of the digestive functions, and tardiness in other respects; the bilious, or more properly the fibrous, with firmness of muscle and general energy; and the melancholic, with deficiency of assimilative vigor and disturbed or inordinate activity of the brain and nervous system.

Temperament relates fully as much to the mind as to the body, and the loose mass that has been written on this subject would have been vastly more useful if the writers had more faithfully remembered the fact, that there is a spirit in man, and that by the breath of the Almighty he became a living soul. Every healthy child is sanguine; every thoughtful man is nervous; the former enjoys the freshness of vigorous life, with Hope and Fun as his playfellows, while the latter, stirred by the strong motives which the tribulation of true knowledge brings with it, is mentally active and energetic. The lymphatic body does not always belong to a sleepy soul, nor a hasty spirit to a fibrous constitution. It is true, indeed, that an indulged stomach is apt to produce a heaviness of brain, and the man who freely uses his lungs in healthful exercise will enjoy a better circulation of blood and a freer spirit than the indolent and sottish. The brain may be oppressed by that which should nourish its power, and the abundant aliment that would administer muscular strength to those who use it, will only contribute grossness to the inactive. But yet a man may be as dry as an Arab, and as free from fat as a

greyhound, and still be more disposed to think than to hunt. Bodily temperament influences the operations of the human mind only as far as it interferes with the convenient exercise of the will, but the habit of mind must depend rather on mental associations than on the fitness of a man's countenance to express his passions. Individuals who are not excited by pain to exert themselves are not idle, but diseased, and the state of the body in such persons presents impediments to action which can be more easily submitted to than overcome. The moral state of the mind modifies the influence of temperament, and the man accustomed to assert the rights of self-hood by a commanding intellect, stimulated by high moral training, will manifest his nobility in spite of an incommodious body. The state of the passions rather than his complexion determines his actions, and the struggles of his soul will form his visible character, whatever be the color of his hair, or the dimensions of his limbs. The lymphatic man is as capable of anger as the fibrous, but while the latter fiercely vents his feelings in his muscles, the former palpitates at heart, and smothers his emotions with a sigh. Many a phlegmatic body has concealed an irascible diposition, and many a choleric countenance has been fashioned by mental agony and self-control. Although we can by no means read a man's disposition by the quantity and quality of his flesh, nevertheless his mental habit and aptitude for intellectual exertion are usually impressed upon his features and his form. Whether he be phlegmatic, sanguine, nervous, or bilious, we shall, for the most part, be able at a glance to decide whether he have been accustomed to master his passions by the use of his reason.

One man is less excitable than another, not because his ideas are fewer, his temptations feebler, or his thoughts less rapid, but merely because, his affections being better

trained, he does not hastily associate all that passes in his mind with a feeling of his bodily self. But every idea is emotional with savages, with young children, and with fools, because they have not been subjected to moral restraints, and taught to resist impulse for the sake of spiritual advantage. It is only by forethought, or by intently aiming at a specific end, to the attainment of which lesser objects are regarded as at best but subservient, that a man endures patiently and with undiverted purpose. If his ambition thus absorb all minor passions, he will be phlegmatic, because he will conceal his feelings, and keep himself free from the infection of the transports of others by unnatural violence to his own heart. But does this power of self-possession for ulterior purposes altogether resolve itself into a certain proportion between the brain and the belly, or the blood and the muscles and absorbents? No. Napoleon was of the same temper of mind when a slim lieutenant at Valance, as when he fattened at Elba, or as when the vulture preyed upon his heart at St. Helena. Faith rules wherever it dwells, and enables a man calmly to keep the even tenor of his way, whatever be the temperament of his fluids and solids, because it has a living power that grows with the demand upon it.

Those who are marked by habitual self-control are either possessed by hypocrisy or by great ideas; they are either canting to serve some present purpose, or the vastness of their vision into the future prevents their being much moved by any thing present; thus, the hypocrite lives on scraps only for time, while the Christian's heart is in eternity. High thoughts preserve us from low desires, in spite of temperament; but unless we love some object more than our own ease, we are the slaves of our own bodies. If we enjoy not the delights of intellectual and affectionate sociality, we must be either abstruse saints or groveling brutes. We must seek

pleasure somewhere and somehow; if not in holy excellence, then we must say, like Milton's Satan,

"Evil, be thou my good!"

Where mind does not govern, sense is obeyed; and when we cease to struggle for self-mastery, we sink into our imperfect instincts with a very inferior brutalism. Then we shall be tardigrade or active according to the demands of appetite, and shall luxuriate like swine grubbing for roots, or hunt like beasts of prey, just in proportion to the supply of food. Then the temper will be in keeping with the condition of the body, and sensation will master the mind. Thus the man who is governed by his animal propensities will grow mischievous in his sulky irritation, like a wild elephant or buffalo disappointed of enjoyment, while he who aims higher will increase his might by struggling on to triumph over his most imperious passions.

The world is divisible into two classes: those whose motives are derived from the body, carnal; and those who alone practice morality, the spiritual. It is because savages and the like are obedient to bodily temperament that morals, properly speaking, are not known among them. Those who doubt this may emigrate to the heart of New Zealand. There they will see that cruelty, lust, and fear are the only known gods. The supreme they adore is the spirit of evil; he is supreme over them. Hence superstition binds them in fetters of fire; darkness is terror, and every unusual sound dismay, because each man is afraid to trust his fellow, since he reads his character in his own heart. Thus self is opposed to self, hateful and hating. Hence the state of man without revelation proves that morality is derived from Heaven; the law of right is from above, the law of might is native to earth; and the doctrine of pure love, such as we find portrayed in the luminous words