possessed less intellect than Lord Byron, and a phrenologist, judging from the relative sizes of their foreheads, would be disposed to think him endowed with much more; the feelings and passions-the desire of Fame-were intense in both; the temperament of each high; and yet the author of Childe Harold beat the author of Marmion out of the field of poetry almost as soon as his great work was given to the world. Why was this? Ebenezer Elliott defines poetry to be "impassioned truth." The two great authors in question are, to a certain extent, an illustration of the correctness of the definition. There is a great deal of passion sprinkled through Scott's poetry; but if we observe the deportment of persons whose feelings are worked up to the intensity of passion, we seldom find them indulging in a long passionate expression of their sentiments; and when we do find this, it does not convey to our minds the depth of feeling produced by a brief, rapid, forcible concentration of the whole mind upon the point at issue, a good example of which is Othello's burst of despair.

"O cursed, cursed slave! Whip me, ye devils,
From the possession of this heavenly sight!
Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
Wash me in steep-down gulphs of liquid fire!
Oh! Desdemona! Desdemona! dead?
Dead? O! O! O!”

Mirabeau frequently, in a few words of concentrated passion, led the National Assembly irresistibly along with him. In the quality of Concentration, I believe, we shall find, in a great measure, the clue to Byron's poetical superiority over Scott. In his works we find not only feelings and sentiments, but also general descriptions, philosophy, arguments, and opinions, briefly wound up and thrown in a condensed mass before the mind of the reader, like the rays of the sun collected by means of a burning glass; while Scott distributes his beauties more evenly, like the light and warmth of the Sun in a day in Summer.*

To many this is more agreeable than the intensity of Byron, but certainly not so much calculated to arrest and fix public attention. Scott, therefore, found it necessary to abandon the Muses for a species of composition more adapted to his peculiar character of mind; diffuseness of style and minuteness

* In the busts and portraits of the two authors, the difference in the development of Ideality is considerably in favour of Byron. Scott appears to have had only moderate Ideality; hence his tame and commonplace descriptions and similes, sufficiently poetical for the multitude, but not for true lovers of the ideal. His higher development of Ideality, and intense activity of brain almost amounting to insanity, were chief conditions in Byron's poetical superiority. — EDITOR, P. J.

of detail being essential in novel-writing, though incompatible with the terse, but comprehensive vigour of poetry. This paper being too long already, I cannot extend the illustrations of the difference of style in different authors; the field is without limit, and would of itself form the subject of a paper, that might tend to throw light on the importance of the faculty of Concentrativeness in literature and mental application of every description. One conclusion, to which observation and reflection upon this organ during some years have led me, is, that the combined directing of the intellect, sentiments, and propensities upon particular objects desired to be attained, in the manner which it appears to me a large endowment of the faculty has a tendency to produce, is a more effectual, and more general cause of leading individuals to eminence, than any other single mental peculiarity whatever.

III. Remarks upon the Function of the Organ called Concentrativeness. By MR. WILLIAM HANCOCK, Junior.

THE 55th Number of the Phrenological Journal contained a suggestion from the Editor, for the successful furtherance of Phrenology, namely, "division of labour," which is as important in phrenological inquiries as in any other department of human knowledge. It is therefore with great propriety that phrenologists are recommended to single out one or two organs from among those not satisfactorily established, for close study, until by long continued observation they shall have reduced their manifestations to some fundamental principle. There is, however, one reason why this plan will never be very generally adopted by the advocates of our science, and that is, the exclusive and monotonous nature of the inquiry when confined to one organ. No one will more readily admit than the author of the suggestion, that many phrenologists will find it utterly impossible to confine their attention, or even for any length of time to direct any considerable portion of their attention, to one or two organs; and though they may be well able to concentrate their thoughts vigorously upon them for a time, they will soon become "tired by the monotony" of a long continued inquiry. There are, however, some who will, with increasing pleasure, constantly and unweariedly pursue the train of ideas supplied by the consideration of a single organ, till, by dint of continued hammering, they at length strike out a spark which at first they had not a glimpse of; and these are the individuals by

whom alone the division of labour plan will be much acted upon in Phrenology. This faculty for inducing the mind to dwell upon one object, is not the perseverance of Firmness, for it is not a forced application, but a desired and gratified continuance in the same pursuit. The lovers of novelty, on the other hand, are incapable of such constancy. Whence can this acknowledged difference of character arise? To Firmness, I have said, it cannot be ascribed: neither can it be ascribed to Concentrativeness, according to the functions of that organ, as at present admitted. The reader may probably recollect that I stated, in the 9th Vol. of this Journal, my belief that the organ marked No. 3. gave, not the power to concentrate the thoughts, but the desire of continuing them upon the same objects; that the primitive feeling of the organ was in fact that which society recognises by the word constancy, as opposed to fickleness. I again ask, to what this undeniable fondness for monotony in some persons, and a craving for change, as undeniable in others, can be traced, if not to the antagonist forces of some such faculty as this for which I contend, on the one hand, and that of Marvellousness upon the other?

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Since I last spoke of this organ, I have observed that those who have it large are very forgetful. They continually forget, or rather do not think upon, errands or messages with which they may have been entrusted. If, for instance, they have a letter to put into the post-office, they unexpectedly find it in their pocket a fortnight afterwards. They therefore obtain in society a reputation for a bad memory, which may perhaps be quite undeserved; for amidst all this apparent forgetfulness, memory may be retentive. It is not that a circumstance is forgotten, but only that it is not thought of at the proper time; for the moment any thing unconnected, except by a slight association, occurs to remind of a neglected or long unthoughtof subject, the whole thing in its minutest bearings rushes vividly to the mind; thus clearly showing that the brain is still retentive, though it may have neglected to think of a circumstance at the particular time it ought to have done so. letter ought to have been thought of at the moment of passing the post-office; whereas the remembrance of it slept until something happened to bring it to the recollection, and all the circumstances connected with it were then as well remembered as if they had occurred but a minute before. The memory, therefore, properly speaking, was not in fault. This is exactly what might have been expected, and is indeed in strict accordance with the view I have ventured to offer; for a large Concentrativeness would naturally keep the mind so intent upon the one object, or class of objects immediately before it, as en

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tirely to prevent that ranging about over dissimilar objects, among which the one to be remembered would occur in its turn or that variableness of ideas which seems to be essentially necessary to what society calls a good memory.*

For the possession of what is called a good memory, not only must circumstances that are past remain fresh in the recollection, but things that are to be done must never be long absent from the mind. It is in this latter quality that I find persons with large Concentrativeness to be deficient; and if memory be the capacity to retain impressions, it certainly has little to do with this deficiency; for the ability to retain impressions, and the faculties by which those impressions are continually presented to the mind's eye, are evidently two distinct things. There is thus a great distinction between forgetting a thing and not thinking of it. The individual has not forgotten the matter, but it does not occur to him.

Sir Isaac Newton probably had a very retentive memory, and yet he frequently seemed to forget whether he had dined or not, and on one occasion is said to have sat down to dinner and risen again without eating, believing himself to have dined, that is to say, his mind was so exclusively and continuously occupied with some other idea, that the dinner was entirely unthought of. It seems probable, that excess of this organ, Concentrativeness, with relatively deficient perceptive faculties, goes far to produce the absent man.

In authors, long continued closeness of ideas and reasoning, with every sentence having a direct bearing upon the subject in question, probably proceeds from a vigorous development of this organ, now called Concentrativeness, but which seems to me better expressed by the word constancy: its effects are strongly pourtrayed in Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations. In the longest disquisitions of that work, the main object is still clearly before the mind: the main question is never lost sight of in the longest arguments, and the elucidations and examples, though very copious, never wander from the point. The unceasing way in which the author occupied himself upon this work, for a period of, I believe, three years, without, as it seems, ever varying or wishing to vary his employment, presents but another mode of activity of the same organ. I presume, therefore, that Adam Smith must have had it large, and this supposition is corroborated by a singular fact demonstrating that the habitual motion of his head was in the line of this organ.

* We have here an example of the necessity of distinguishing the varieties of memory, in lieu of speaking of memory in its collective meaning. Mr. Hancock here supposes the case of an individual wanting that variety of memory called "ready" by a writer in the 7th volume of this Journal.

- EDITOR.

In the house in which he lived, they now show the chair he sat in whilst composing this work, and a spot where the plaster is gone from the wall, is pointed out as having been actually worn away by the back of his head - his usual position when in deep thought having been with the back of his head against the wall.

I should not probably have ventured again to obtrude this idea of the functions of Concentrativeness, though I am myself daily more convinced of its correctness, if my former observations had not been mentioned with approval by Dr. Cargill in the 55th Number of the Phrenological Journal. This, I trust, justifies me in calling further attention to the subject. I have frequently been surprised that well informed phrenologists, whose opinions have weight with their less informed, but sometimes not less zealous, brethren, do not more frequently give their opinions on newly broached ideas. They might often in a few words be able to show its futility, and thus save to us smaller fry many doubtings, and much time spent in comparatively useless observation. I have long been looking for some such remarks upon Dr. Vimont's supposed organ of Marriage. It has now been long enough before the phrenological public to receive something of confirmation or refutation, but I have looked in vain for either.

I confess that I am not satisfied with Dr. Vimont's description of that organ; nor do I believe any such organ exists. I introduce the subject here on account of the connexion, which I believe it has, with the organ I have been speaking of — that of Concentrativeness, or Constancy, or whatever may be a fitting name for it. My observations induce me to think that attachment for life, or marriage, proceeds, not from any one organ, but from the combined influence of two, those of attachment and constancy: attachment rendering animals prone to attach themselves, and constancy rendering them constant to that attachment; and I believe that it is according to the relative and combined strength of these two organs, that attachment is more or less permanent for a season or for life.

Dr. Vimont places his organ of Marriage very close to these two; and it is evident that when both are large, it must give a full appearance to that part. As far as my limited knowledge and means of observation enable me to judge, this idea holds good with the inferior animals, that is, those species in which the male and female attach themselves for a lengthened period, or for life, have both these organs large, and that, on the contrary, those which have no permanent attachment, are comparatively deficient in one or both of them. Indeed, "marriage or attachment for life," cannot possibly be a fundamental faculty, for the fundamental principle of any