Thoughts on habit and discipline

Preface

Amidst many more serious avocations, the composition of the present work has been the pleasant occupation of occasional leisure hours. Little as it is laboured, and capable as it is of much improvement, I am induced to publish it, in the hope that it may be of some use to the lately risen, and now rising generation.

It consists of three divisions. The First contains general remarks on the nature and operation of Habit and Discipline : it is the philosophy of the subject, though in a low sense of the term, and in a very familiar guise. The Second relates to Bad Habit —that grand instrument in the hands of Satan for enslaving, enchaining, and finally destroying mankind; the Third to Good Habit, which is the appointed means, under the natural and moral government of God, and in connection with a providential scheme of Discipline, for our improvement in ability, knowledge, wisdom, and virtue.

Good Habit is considered in its application, first, to the move¬ ments and uses of the body ; secondly, to art—that useful result of the joint exercises of body and mind; thirdly, to intellectual capacities and pursuits ; fourthly, to morals; and fifthly, to religion.

Heartily do I desire that those who are now in the early vigour of their bodily and mental powers, may become subject, in all things, to the salutary power of Good Habit. Under the influence of the Holy Spirit, which can alone change and sanctify the heart of man, they will find in the friendly sway of this “magistrate of man’s life”—this genial nurse and mistress of our faculties—a preparation for all that is useful and honourable in time, and for all that is pure and joyous in eternity.

THOUGHTS

ON

HABIT AND DISCIPLINE.

iCjwpto jfirst.

ON THE NATURE OF HABIT AND DISCIPLINE.

SECTION I. On the Capacities of Animals, including Habit

For every living creature, from man down to the lowest reptile, the Creator and Lord of the universe has ordained some particular way of life ; and this is determined partly by the capacities of the animal, and partly by the circumstances in which he is placed. The outward appointment and the inward character are ‘‘set over” one against the other; and the corres¬ pondence between them affords countless proofs both of design and benevolence in the Deity.

The fitness of this lower world to the nature and needs of the animals which dwell upon it, and especially to those of man, may be traced in a multitude of par¬ ticulars. The rotation of the earth on its axis, and the consequent alternations of day and night, are just suited to living creatures which require corresponding changes of activity and rest, of waking and sleeping.

Our organs of breathing would be of no use, had the earth no atmosphere; or had her atmosphere been water instead of air, or air differently composed. Were the air all oxygen, should we not be all on fire? Were it all nitrogen, should we not perish in a moment? Were it incapable of receiving rays of light, what would become of our seeing ? Had it no faculty of undulation, where would be our hearing ?

It is perfectly conceivable that water, instead of being a flowing liquid, capable of evaporation, might have been stiff like jelly, or aeriform like steam. In either case, where would have been the life of myriads of fishes ?—where the fertility of the globe ?—where either the meat or the drink of its inhabitants ? The surface of the earth might have been all rock, so that no vegetable could grow upon it; or so soft as to be incapable of supporting the foot of man. Who does not perceive that the variety of nature coincides with the scope of our animal capacities ? If there were no flowers, the powers of smell would yield but little pleasure; and if the flowers produced no honey, the instinct of the bee would be useless. Were nature colourless, where would be the delights of vision ? Were she clothed in scarlet instead of green, how soon would our vision be destroyed I 1 Were the globe, on which we dwell, of a greater bulk than it is at present, so as to exert a stronger attraction towards the moving forms which pervade its surface, all these living crea-

1 Many of these particulars, and others of a similar nature, are mentioned in Dick’s Christian Philosopher , a little work well worthy of general attention.

INCLUDING HABIT.

tures would immediately become heavier than they now are. They would walk or run like persons who have lead in their shoes, or who are wearily forcing their way through almost impermeable clay. Were our globe, on the contrary, diminished in bulk, its in¬ habitants would lose a corresponding proportion of their weight. The stoutest trees would be quickly uprooted, and animals, never made for flight, would be dancing about like feathers in the air. The whole face of nature would become frivolous and unstable. Between the present bulk of the globe, and the actual form and strength of the living creatures upon its sur¬ face, there is an evidently designed coincidence—a perfect balance—a measured and absolute accordance.

While these, and a thousand other examples, afford a clear evidence that God Jhas framed this material world with a view to the happiness of its appointed inhabitants, it is not to be forgotten that the world was first created, and afterwards peopled with living and sentient creatures. It is, therefore, more especially to our present purpose, to consider those inherent capaci¬ ties by which the various tribes of animals are them¬ selves adapted to their way of life, and to the circum¬ stances with which they are surrounded.

It may not be unprofitable for us to trace some of these capacities in structure—in organic action—in sensation—in instinct, and in the faculty of habit.

1 . “I will praise thee,” said David, “ for I am fear¬ fully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works, and that my soul knoweth right well: my substance w as not hid from thee when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.

in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them!” 1 The inspired writer, though probably but little acquainted with the wonders of anatomy, ap¬ pears to have been well aware that the mechanism of the human frame affords a direct evidence of the skill of the Creator. But it is not only the delicacy and beauty of the machine—it is the obvious suitability of the whole to the purposes of life, and of its particular parts to their respective functions—it is mechanism with an end in view, and successful in accomplishing that end, which more abundantly proves the wisdom and goodness of our Maker. How curious and scientific is the structure by which the eye is fitted for seeing, the ear for hearing, the lungs for breathing, the stomach for digesting, and the tongue, with all its multitudes of muscles and nerves, both for tasting and talking! How admirably is the brain protected by the inter¬ woven bones of the skull, and the vital marrow by the studied machinery of the spine! When we perceive that the ball of the hip is tied to the socket in which it moves, by a strong ligament, we cannot for a moment doubt the final cause—that the hip may not be exposed to dislocation. And who shall say that the procuring cause is not equally discoverable? It is the finger of the Most High—it can he nothing else.

This subject, however, is most clearly illustrated when we compare the structure of one animal with that of another. To man, who is made for an upright pos- Psalm cxxxix, 14—16.

INCLUDING HABIT.

ture, a long neck would be only a source of misery and danger; but quadrupeds, which maintain the horizontal position, and find their food on the ground, require a neck proportionate to the length of their legs—and such a neck is given them. Some idle theorist may imagine that this length of neck, in the horse or the deer, is the effect of protrusion, and was originally produced by the appetency of the creature. But what appetency—what tendency of the head downward—could produce the strong cartilaginous bands, running on either side of the vertebras, by which, in these and other animals, the neck is strengthened, and enabled to support and lift up the head? Why is this band given to the animals who need it, and withheld from the human species, which needs it not?

Every one must perceive that the foot of man and the hoof of the horse are destined for the land; the wings of the bird for the air; the fins of fishes for the waters. Why is the fish furnished with a tail, which at once propels him like a paddle and guides him like a rudder? Because God has determined that he should move in the waters. The Creator has also ordained that he should see in the waters; and for this purpose the crystalline humour of his eye is created globular —a form indis¬ pensable to the due concentration of the rays of light in so dense a medium. If we who live in air were fur¬ nished with eyes of the same form, the beauties of nature would be lost upon us—our vision would be utterly confused. What can account for the difference, but the design of Omnipotent benevolence?

When Humboldt beheld a magnificent condor, floating through the rarified atmosphere which surrounds the highest tops of the Andes, he could scarcely do otherwise than observe, that the strength and length of its wings corresponded with the size of its body; and he might probably call to mind that such a flight would have been impossible, had not his body, like that of other birds, contained cavities filled with air, and bones remarkable for their hollowness as well as strength ? This peculiarity in the structure of birds is most clearly indicative of design. So also is their mode of gesta¬ tion; if this were the same as that of quadrupeds, the flight of the parent bird would be often and long pre¬ vented; but the weight of a single light egg offers no impediment to her passage through the air.

It is necessary for the life and comfort of the whale, the seal, and the walrus, that, without any effort of their own, and in spite of the weight of their flesh, they should be rendered buoyant in the water. For this purpose they are furnished with a thick stratum, under their skin, of light fat or blubber. Nor is it to be for¬ gotten that the very substance which qualifies these creatures for their own element, affords abundance of oil for the use of man.

The hot and sandy deserts which are the native region of the camel, can have had no tendency to pro¬ duce those reservoirs at the bottom of his stomach, which he fills with water, and then draws that water, when he pleases, for the quenching of his thirst. Yet were it not for that provision, he would often be a martyr to the climate to which he belongs; and would moreover become comparatively useless to mankind.

INCLUDING HABIT.

What can be more especially adapted to the need of the fish than the air-bladder within him, which helps to support him in the water, and which he has the power of contracting when he wishes to sink, and of dilating when it is his will to rise? Can the element in which he lives have any tendency to form this curious organ, or must we trace its existence to the hand of the Creator? The waters might flow through the interstices of a fowl’s foot for ever, and never pro¬ duce the web which at once connects and separates her toes, and enables her to swim with ease and dexterity. Paley justly remarks that the web-foot, the long and flexible neck, the spoon-bill, the downy breast, and the grass-digesting stomach of the swan, who floats on the surface of the pool, and feeds on the weeds which grow at its bottom, are all made in relation one to another, and in their union precisely supply the needs of the animal.

The bills and beaks of the various species of birds are exactly adapted to their respective methods of obtaining food; but in these long and often crooked projections, teeth would be at once useless and incon¬ venient. Now carniverous birds have no need of any contrivance for grinding their food; for they tear the flesh with their beaks, and digest it without difficulty. But how stands the case with birds which feed on grain, such as the common fowl, the turkey, or the pigeon? Their gastric juice refuses to act on the hard unbroken corn—their food must therefore be ground. And how is the object effected ? Not by teeth, which would only spoil their bills, but by the gizzard—a powerful muscle, furnished with rough folds, which rub against each other, and reduce the grain to small par¬ ticles, as mechanically as the stones of a mill. 1

The eyes of various species of fly are so fixed in one position, that these insects have no power to turn the pupil towards an object. The inconvenience which might have arisen from this peculiar structure is pre¬ vented by a most elaborate mechanism; for the organ is composed of a vast multitude of minute lenses, through which the animal is enabled to perceive objects in every direction. The number of these lenses in the eye of a dragon-fly has been found to be 12,000, and in that of a butterfly 17 , 000. 2

The whole race of Hemipterous insects abstract the juices of plants or animals by “means of a hollowgrooved beak, often jointed, and containing three bristleformed lancets.” These lancets “ at the same time that they pierce the food, apply to each other so accurately as to form one air-tight tube, through which the little animals suck up their repast; thus forming a pump, which, more effective than ours, digs the well from which it draws the fluid.” 3

The examples which have now been cited, and a multitude of others which might easily be collected, afford abundant proofs that the capacity of animals in point of structure , is fitted with great exactness to their appointed way of life; and that as the various kinds of living creatures differ one from another in circumstance, so, and so precisely , they differ in organization. Equally

1 See Paley’s Natural Theology, p. 287. 2 Idem, p. 280. Kirby and Spence, Introduction to Entomology, vol. iii, p. 495. 3 Idem,

INCLUDING HABIT.

evident is it that these pecularities of structure could never have arisen from any tendency or appetency in the animals themselves, and can be reasonably ascribed only to the wisdom and skill of an Omnipotent Creator.

2 . From structure, we naturally proceed to involun¬ tary mechanical motion, and organic action. The exquisite machinery of the bodies of animals would be of no use for the purposes of life, did not their hearts perpetually beat, their blood perpetually circu¬ late, and their lungs perpetually breathe. What would preserve us from death and putrefaction, were there not an unceasing action maintained by our stomach, our biliary ducts, our lacteals, our absorbents, and our nerves ? And what could preserve these motions and actions from irregularity and disorder, did they depend on our own capricious will and care ? Better things, surely, are provided for the creatures of his hand, by that gracious Being who, in the first place, forms their material frame; in the second place, sets their vital organs in motion ; and lastly, maintains the continual working of the machine, until the moment arrives when, by his own resistless decree, they die and return to the dust.

Here it may be well to remark, in passing, that those principles of creative wisdom to which we have hitherto adverted, are displayed (though under a dif¬ ferent modification) in the vegetable as well as in the animal kingdom. There is a certain degree of analogy between the structure of animals and that of plants, and both these systems of organized matter display the hand of matchless art, the mind of unrivalled science.

There is, moreover, a comparative anatomy to be remarked in vegetables as well as animals ; the pecu¬ liar structure of each species being obviously adapted to its appointed way of life, and to the external cir¬ cumstances in which it is placed. Again, in the germination, growth, blossoming, and fructification of vegetables ; in the functions of their pores, in the motion of their sap, in their method of drinking up water, and of breathing in and exhaling air—we can¬ not fail to perceive a resemblance to organic action in animals. Both these branches of the divine economy shew forth the ever-present hand of him who produces and re-produces—who manages and maintains in order —the whole machinery of living things.

3. Ascending one step higher in the scale of that economy, we come to the point which mainly distin¬ guishes the animal from the vegetable kingdom—i. e. sensation. The capacity of sensation may be defined as the internal power, by which living creatures perceive the impressions of external things. The appointed instruments through which they receive these impressions, are certain parts of that mechanical structure to which we have already alluded ; first, the brain and nervous system ; and secondly, the external organs of sense. These things are in a wonderful manner set over against each other. Notwithstanding all the perfection of their structure, blind would be the eye, deaf the ear, tasteless the tongue, and senseless the skin, were not animals furnished with a brain for a sensorium, and with nerves for feelers ; and utterly useless would be the whole of this machinery were

INCLUDING HABIT.

there not, under it all, the mysterious principle of sensitive existence, hidden from the scrutiny either of the eye or of the understanding, and to be regarded only as the immediate gift of God.

Now, while the inward power of sensation, con¬ sidered as one of the ordinances of the Almighty, is a subject worthy of deep contemplation, it is no less interesting to reflect on the five distinct channels through which this single faculty is brought into action—the touch, the taste, the smell, the sight, and the hearing. How definite is each of these senses in its own nature and character ; and, if denied by Pro¬ vidence, how impossible to be acquired or even con¬ ceived ! Yet how exactly are they severally fitted to the way of life ordained for the conscious inhabitants of the planet on which we dwell!

It is a delightful evidence of the benevolence of our Creator, that all our organs of sense are so framed as to be productive of pleasure. Not one bone, or muscle, or nerve, indeed, has ever been discovered, in any kind of animal, of which the natural tendency is the inflic¬ tion of pain on its possessor—all are made to produce pleasurable sensations. True, indeed, it is that each of our five senses may be grievously offended ; that the organs of animal bodies are capable of derangement and disease; and that the destruction of one living creature by another, is one of the laws through which an inscrutable Providence maintains the order of nature. But while, in the sufferings which are thus occasioned, we may perhaps trace one mark of a fallen and degenerate world, it is nevertheless obvious, even here, that the happiness of conscious living creatures is the object of the divine economy : pleasure is the rule, and pain only the exception.

The law of mutual destruction, in the lower animal creation, is, indeed, the law of life. Were that law reversed, and were these sentient creatures left to the slow operation of disease and decay, the sufferings of those animals which now exist would he vastly aggra¬ vated ; pestilence would spread on every side, and the pleasure of existence itself would soon be fearfully curtailed. Who can listen to the songster ot the grove, or to the lark which carols in high air—who can witness the smooth and e..sy flight of myriads of birds ; the happy gliding rapidity of countless fishes ; the dance of millions of insects in the sunbeam—without confessing that great are the pleasures which their Creator has bestowed upon them—that the painful but unforeseen stroke which may soon consign them to nonentity, is as a cypher in comparison with the un¬ reckoned sum of their enjoyment ?

While the five senses are the common property of the generality of animals, the 'proportionate strength in which they are severally imparted, corresponds with the peculiar need of each particular species. In man, indeed, they all maintain an even standard of excel¬ lence ; but who cannot trace the marks of adapting wisdom and watchful benevolence, in the protected and limited vision of the mole, in the far-seeing eye of the eagle, in the quick hearing of the hare, and in the vivacious smelling of the hound ?

4. The fourth leading feature in the capacities of

INCLUDING HABIT.

animals, is one which indicates, with peculiar clear¬ ness, the all-pervading mind, the ever-acting hand, of Deity. That feature is instinct.

Among the things “ little upon the earth,” yet “ ex¬ ceeding wise,” the writer of Proverbs makes mention of the ant and the spider and the discoveries of modern naturalists fully confirm this character. Most of the various species of ants are celebrated for their skill in building subterraneous cities ; and nothing can exceed the industry and watchfulness with which they carry on their masonry, and tend the young of their queen. “Every evening, an hour before sun-set, they regu¬ larly move the whole brood, together with the eggs and pupae, to cells situated in the lower part of the nest, where they will be safe from the cold ; and, in the morning, they as constantly remove them again towards the surface of the nest.” 2 In a well-stocked nest or city , the brood will amount to about 8000 in number, and the whole of this multitude is fed by the working ants several times in the day, with a viscid fluid which they inject into their mouths individually. 3 It is a curious circumstance that ants possess the power of mutual communication, so as to be able to give notice to each other of the approach of some hostile tribe, and of issuing their commands to the servants of the colony. The noiseless touch appears with them to serve the purpose of man’s vociferous tongue.

The white ants of tropical climates (insects of about a quarter of an inch in length) erect domes of prodigious

1 Prov. xxx, 24—28. 2 Kirby and Spence, vol. i, p. 367.

strength and thickness, and several feet high. These domes are furnished with vaults, passages, and cells, suited for the stowage of the young, and for a variety of other purposes. Were we to erect houses in the same proportionate height in relation to the length of our bodies, they would be fifteen times as high as the monument in London ! 1

The thread of a spider, although little more than just perceptible to the human eye, is spun with astonishing skill, and is, in fact, a cable, said to be composed of four thousand cords. 2 Supported by this wondrous manufacture, the spider requires no wings, and can attach herself, without difficulty, to the “palaces of kings.” And what can be more curiously artificial than the nets which these animals hang up in conve¬ nient places in order to catch their prey—sometimes formed in meshes, and sometimes composed geometri¬ cally of diverging radii, filled up with a beautiful series of concentric circles? 3

But the wisdom of the ant and the spider is not their own. Each practises her art by intuition, without the least knowledge of its rules ; and while their energy is excited by appetite, or even prompted by intention, they can be regarded only as the blind executors of their Maker’s will. Not indeed that we are to consider them as mere machines set to work, and kept in motion, by an immediate impulse of divine power, but rather as gifted with certain capacities which adapt them to

1 See Library of Entertaining Knowledge , “ Insect Architecture,” p. 287. 2 Kirby and Spence, vol. i, p. 507. 3 Kirby and Spence, vol. i, p. 410.

INCLUDING HABIT.

the circumstances in which God has placed them, and which they are enabled to exercise spontaneously. Both the propensity and the power are bestowed on the animal, and form part of its constitution; hut the art or science displayed in their methods of carrying their purposes into effect, belongs only to the Creator.

Instinct is a faculty incapable of being improved by education. It operates without the force of example, without the instruction of parents, without the forma¬ tion of habit.

From generation to generation, from age to age, without teaching, and without alteration, either for the better or the worse, the various tribes of animals pursue their respective functions, and exercise the arts of which God has made them capable. The human infant, like the young of lower animals, seeks the breast of its mother, and forms its lips for suction. The silk-worm, to all appearance one of the meanest of grubs, constructs its warm cocoon, and spins its thousand feet of thread, with a delicacy and ingenuity which man cannot rival. The migratory birds behave as if they were weather-wise, and skilled in nautical science: they have something within them, which teaches them when to leave one part of the world, and how to find their way to another. A young pair of linnets or thrushes let loose from a cage in which they have been confined from their birth, will build their nests in the same situations, with the same materials, and with the same skill and symmetry, as their fore¬ fathers did before them. The domestic hen, a dull bird in other respects, would appear to be well acquainted with the theory of heat; for she turns her eggs with the greatest accuracy, so that every part of them may partake of the genial warmth of her body.

Birds which feed on snails or shell-fish, will lift them to a considerable height in the air, and then let them fall on stony places, that the shells may be broken and their prey laid open.

One kind of bee displays the art of a carpenter; a second, that of a mason ; a third, that of an upholsterer. The beavers, which set us an example of peaceable social life, are skilful sawyers, builders, and engineers. By gradual and united efforts, they often fell a tree of large dimensions, and always in such a manner that it falls in the right direction. The vast dams which by this and other means they raise across rivers, and which secure for them a pool to dwell in, are formed on the most scientific principles, and are furnished with sloping holes, (contracted or enlarged as occasion re¬ quires,) which carry off the surplus water. Their houses are built with admirable firmness against the banks of the river, and are plastered with the greatest neatness ; they are provided with doors of entrance or egress, towards both land and water, with stories and chambers suited to a family, and with carpets of leaves and branches. 1

In order, however, to form a just notion of the operation of instinct, nothing can be more to our pur¬ pose than to reflect for a few moments on the wonders of the honey-comb. Were we to inquire of the geometer, into what equal and similar figures a plane 1 See Rees’ Cyclop., art. “Castor.”

INCLUDING HABIT.

can be divided, so that all interstices should be avoided, he would presently tell us that there exist only three such figures—the equilateral triangle, the square, and the regular hexagon ; and were we further to ask him which of these figures would afford the greatest strength, and the most ample room for stowage, he would reply—“the last of the three.” Now, this is precisely the figure which the common hive-bee has adopted for her cell. The plane presented to the eye by the section of a honey-comb, is divided, with the utmost exactness, into regular hexagons ; and these are so arranged, with respect to each other, as to ensure the greatest possible degree of stability. The angular bottom of each cell rests on the partition between two other cells, and thus is furnished with a firm buttress on either side.

Our next question must be addressed not to the mere disciple of Euclid, but to the profound mathematician. Supposing a space of solid measurement to be composed of hexagonal cells, at what precise angle ought the three planes, which compose the bottom of a cell, to meet, so as to effect the greatest possible saving of labour and material ? The celebrated Maclaurin has determined this question by a fluxionary calculation; and has proved that the angle required is precisely that in which the three planes at the bottom of a cell in the honey-comb do actually meet 1

From these facts, it seems impossible to avoid deducing one of two inferences ; either that the bee is a proficient in superficial and solid geometry, and even 1 See Dr. Hancock, on Instinct , p. 19.

C in high mathematics, or that she is guided in her work, and qualified for its instinctive performance, by the Father and Fountain of science. But the art displayed in the honey-comb is no less admirable than the science. What means the architectural perfection of this insect-edifice ? What the even and unfailing measurement of all its parts ? It seems impossible to account for these effects, either by the structure of a bee’s body, or by the powers of its mind. If so, we must ascribe them immediately to the wisdom and power of Him by whom the bee is created.