e to the body; they accompanied its variations and depended on
its presence and organs. They were conceived vaguely to exist in one's
head or, if they were emotional, in one's heart; but anatomy would have
had some difficulty in finding them there. They constituted what is
properly called the mind--the region of sentience, emotion, and
soliloquy.

The mind was the region where those aspects which real things present
to the body might live and congregate. So understood, it was avowedly
and from the beginning a realm of mere appearance and depended entirely
on the body. It should be observed, however, that the limbo of divine
and ideal things, which is sometimes also called the mind, is very far
from depending obviously on the body and is said to do so only by a late
school of psychological sceptics. To primitive apprehension spirit, with
its ideal prerogatives, was something magical and oracular. Its
prophetic intuitions were far from being more trivial than material
appearances. On the contrary those intuitions were momentous and
inspiring. Their scope was indefinite and their value incalculable in
every sense of the word. The disembodied spirit might well be immortal,
since absent and dead things were familiar to it. It was by nature
present wherever truth and reality might be found. It was prophetic; the
dreams it fell into were full of auguries and secret affinities with
things to come. Myth and legend, hatched in its womb, were felt to be
divinely inspired, and genius seemed to be the Muses' voice heard in a
profound abstraction, when vulgar perception yielded to some kind of
clairvoyance having a higher authority than sense. Such a spirit might
naturally be expected to pass into another world, since it already dwelt
there at intervals, and brought thence its mysterious reports. Its
incursions into the physical sphere alone seemed miraculous and sent a
thrill of awe through the unaccustomed flesh.

[Sidenote: Competition between the two.]

The ideal element in the world was accordingly regarded at first as
something sacred and terrifying. It was no vulgar presence or private
product, and though its destiny might be to pass half the time, like
Persephone, under ground, it could not really be degraded. The human
mind, on the other hand, the region of sentience and illusion, was a
familiar affair enough. This familiarity, indeed, for a long time bred
contempt and philosophers did not think the personal equation of
i