...........•St'C.'r.: •riiiititk'"'' :;::.'t; ' >^CUB% # Phelps Collection *4**1ebo*° N JAMES H. PBELPS. 3 Towmhend, Vt. m OP THE Philosophy of the Human Mind. By DUGALD STEWART, Esq. F. R. S. Edin. Honorary Member of the Imperial Academy of Sciences at St. Petersburgh; Member of the Royal Academy ot Berlin,and of the American Philosophical Society held at Philadelphia; formerly Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. TWO VOLUMES BOUND IN ONE. VOLUME FIRST. ALBANY: PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY E. AND E. HOSFORD. 18-22. vW- ADVERTISEMENT. IN various parts of the following Work, references are made to subsequent speculations, which are not contained in it. These speculations it is my intention to resume at some future period: but when I consider the extent of my subject, and the many accidents which may divert me from the prosecution of it, I cannot ven- ture so far as to announce in the title-page of this vo- lume, any promise of a future publication. Some additional chapters are still wanting, to com- plete the analysis of the Intellectual Powers. After finishing this, the course of my inquiries would lead me to treat, in the second place, of Man considered as an Active and Moral being; and, thirdly, of Man considered as the member of a Political Society. COLLEGE OF EDINBURGH, } March 13, 1792. < CONTENTS. Page INTRODUCTION.—PART I.—-Op the Nature and object of the Philosophy of the Human Mind 9 PART II.--Section I.—Of the'Utility of the Philosophy of the Human Mind 17 II.—Continuation of the- same Subject 29 CHAPTER I.—Of the Powers of external Perception 38 Section I.—Of the Theories which have been formed by Philoso- phers, to explain the Manner in which the Mind per- ceives external Objects.....38 II.—Of certain natural Prejudices, which seem to have given rise to the common Theories of Perception - 41 HI.—-Of Dr. Reid's Speculations on the subject of Percep- tion .........49 IV.—Of the Origin of our Knowledge 52 CHAPTER II.—Of Attention.......56 CHAPTER III.—Of Conception.....- - 70 CHAPTER IV.—Of Abstraction - - - - - - - 79 Section I.—General Observations on thisFacnlty of the Mind - 79 II.—Of the Objects of our Thoughts, when we employ general Terms --..---- 83 III.—Remarks on the Opinions of some modern Philoso- phers on the Subject of the foregoing Section - 93 IV.—Continuation of the same Subject.—Inferences with respect to the Use of Language as an instrument of Thought, and the Errors in Reasoning to which it occasionally gives rise - - - - 100 V.—Of the Purposes to which the Powers of Abstraction and Generalization are subservient - - - 103 VI.—Of the Error to which we are liable in Speculation, and in the Conduct of Affairs, in consequence of a rash Application of general Principles - 109 VI CONTENTS. Section VII.—Continuation of the same Subject.—Differences i« the intellectual Characters of Individuals, arising from their different Habits of Abstraction and Generalization......-113 VIII.—Continuation of the same Subject.—Use and Abuse of general Principles in Politics - - - 117 CHAPTER V__Of the Association of Ideas - - - - 137 PART I.—Of the Influence of Association in regulating the succes- sion of our Thoughts - - - - - -138 SECTION I.—General Observations oh this Part of our Consti- tution, and on the Language' of Philosophers with respect to it.....138 11.—Of the Principles of Association among our Ideas 143 HI.—Of the Power which the Mind has over the train of its Thoughts......146 IV.—Illustrations of the Doctrine stated in the prece- ding Section - - - - - - 119 1. OfWit.......149 2. OfRbyme......152 3. Of Poetical Fancy - - - - 154 4. Of Invention in the Arts and Sciences - 157 V. Application of the Principles stated in the forego- ing Sections of this Chapter, to explain the Phe- nomena of Dreaming - - - - 162 PART II.—Of the Influence of Association on the Intellectual and on the Active Powers......171 Section I.—Of the Influence of casual Associations on our specu- lative Conclusions - - - - - -171 II.—Of the Influence of the Association of Ideas on our Judgments in Matters of Taste - - - 181 III.—Of the Influence of Association on our active Prin- ciples and on our moral Judgments - - 190 IV.—General remarks on the Subjects treated in the foregoing Sections of this Chapter - - - 195 CHAPTER VI.—Of Memory.......197 Section I.—General Observations on Memory - - - - 197 II.—Of the varieties of Memory in different Individuals - 204 III.—Of the Improvement of Memory.—Analysis of the principles on which the Culture of Memory de- pends --.....- 210 IV.—Continuation of the same Subject.—Of the aid which the Memory derives from Philosophical Arrange- ment ........213 CONTENTS vit Section V.—Continuation of the same Subject.—Effects produced on the Memory by committing to writing our ac- quired Knowledge - - - - - -218 VI.—Continuation of the same Subject.—Of Artificial Memory -------- 222 VII.—Continuation of the same Subject.—Importance of making a proper Selection among the Objects of our Knowledge, in order to derive advantage from the acquisitions of Memory .... 225 VIII.—Of the connexion between Memory and Philoso- phical Genius -.....229 CHAPTER VII.—Of Imagination - - - - - - 234 Sectk>n I.—Analysis of Imagination - 234 II.—Of Imagination Considered in its relation to some of the Fine Arts.......23!! III.—Continuation of the same Subject.—Relation of Ima- gination and of Taste to Genius - ... 246 IV.—Of the Influence of Imagination on Human Charac- ter and Happiness ------ 247 V.—Continuation of the same Subject.—Inconveniences resulting from an ill regulated Imagination - - 251 VI.—Continuation of the same Subject.—Important Uses to which the Power of Imagination is subservient 257 Notes and Tllvstrations -------- 261 ■ULOBtssnrs OP THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE HUMAN MIND. INTRODUCTION. PART I. Of the Nature and Object of the Philosophy of the Human Mind. X he prejudice, which is commonly entertained against metaphy- sical speculations, seems to arise chiefly from two causes : First, from an apprehension that the subjects about which they are employed, are placed beyond the reach of the human faculties ; and, secondly, frorri a belief that these subjects have no relation to the business of life. The frivolous and absurd discussions which abound in the writings of most metaphysical authors, afford but too many arguments in justi- fication of these opinions • and if such discussions were to be admitted as a fair specimen of what the human mind is able to accomplish in this department of science, the contempt into which it has fallen of late, might vvith justice be regarded, as no inconsiderable evidence of the progress which true philosophy has mads in the present age. Among the various subjects of inquiry, however, which, inconsequence •of the vague use of language, are comprehended under the general ti- tle of Metaphysics, there are some, which are essentially distinguished from the rest, both by the degree of evidence which accompanies their principles, and by the relation which they bear to the useUrf sciences and arts : and it has unfortunately happened, that these have shared in that general discredit, into which the other branches of metaphysics have justly fallen. To this circumstance is probably to be ascribed the little progress, which has hitherto b*en made in the Philosophy of the Human Mind ; a science, so interesting in its nature, and so im- portant in its applications, that it could scarcely have failed, in these inquisitive and enlightened times, to have excited a very general at- tention, if it had not accidentally been classed, in the public opinion, with the vain and unprofitable disquisitions of the schoolmen. vol. u 2 10 ELEMrMS OF TIIK flllLOSOl'HY In order to obviate these misapprehensions with respect to the sub- ject of the following work, I have thought it proper, in this preliminary chapter, first, to explain the nature of the truths which I propose to inves- tigate ; and, secondly, to point out some of the more important applica- tions of which they are susceptible. In stating these preliminary ob- servations, I may perhaps appear to some to be minute and tedious ; but this fault, 1 am confident, will be readily pardoned by those, who have studied with care the principles of that science of which 1 am to treat ; and who are anxious to remove the prejudices which have, in a great measure, excluded it from the modern systems of education. In the progress of my work, I flatter myself that I shall not often have occasion to solicit the indulgence of my readers for an unnecessary dif- fuseness. The notions we annex to the words, Matter, and Mind, as is well re- marked by Dr. Reid,* are merely relative. If I am asked, what I mean by matter? I can only explain myself by saying, it is that which is extended, figured, coloured, moveable, hard or soft, rough or smooth, hot or cold.—that is, I can define it in no other way, than by enumerat- ing its sensible qualities. It is not matter, or body, which I perceive by my senses; but only extension, figure, colour, and certain other qualities, which the constitution of my nature leads me to refer to some- thing, which is extended, figured, and coloured. The case is precisely similar with respect to Mind. We are not immediately conscious of its existence, but we are conscious of sensation, thought, and volition ; operations, which imply the existence of something which feels, thinks, and wills. Every man too is impressed with an irresistible conviction, that all these sensations, thoughts, and volitions belong to one and the same being; to that being, which he calls himself; a bein^, which he is led, by the constitution of his nature, to consider as something distinct from his body, and as not liable to be impaired by the loss or mutilation of any of his organs. From these considerations, it appears, that we have the i>ame evi- dence for the existence of mind, that we have for the eVistence of body ; nay if there be any difference between the two cases, that we have stronger evidence for it; inasmuch as the one is suggested to us by the subjects of our own consciousness, and the other merely by the objects of our own perceptions : and in this light, undoubtedly, the fact would appear to every person, were it not, that, from our earliest years, the attention is engrossed with the qualities and laws of matter, an acquaint- ance with which is absolutely necessary for the preservation of our an- imal existence. Hence it is, that these phenomena occupy our thoughts more than those of mind : that we are perpetually tempted to explain the latter by the analogy of the former, and even to endeavour to refer them to the s^me general laws ; and that we acquire habits of inatten- tion to thp subjects of our consciousness, too strong to be afterwards surmounted, without the most persevering industry. If the foregoing observations be well founded, they establish the dis- tinction between mind and matter, without any long process of meta- physical reasoning :t for if our notions of both are merely relative ; if * Essays on the Active Powers of Man, p. 8.9. f See Note [A] at the end of the volume. OP THE HUMAN MIND. 11 we know the one, only by such sensible qualities as extension, figure, and solidity ; and the other, by such operations as sensation, thought, and volition ; we are certainly entitled to say, that matter and mind, considered as objects of human study, are essentially different; the sci- ence of the former resting ultimately on the phenomena exhibited to our senses ; that of the latter, on the phenomena of which we are con- scious. Instead, therefore, of objecting to the scheme of materialism, that its conclusions are false, it would be more accurate to say, that its aim is unpbilosophical. It proceeds on a misapprehension of the pro- per object of science; the difficulty which it professes to remove being manifestly placed beyond the reach of our faculties. Surely, when we attempt to explain the nature of that principle which feels and thinks and wills, by saying, that it is a material substance, or that it is the re- sult of material organization, we impose on ourselves by words—for- getting that matter as well as mind is known to us by its qualities and attributes alone, and that we are totally ignorant of the essence of either.* As all our knowledge of the material world is derived from the in- formation of our senses, natural philosophers have, in modern times,, wisely abandoned to metaphysicians all speculations concerning the na- ture of that substance of which it is composed; concerning the possi- bility or impossibility of its being created ; concerning the efficient cau- ses of the changes which take place in it; and even concerning the re- ality of its existence,, independent of that of percipient beings; and have confined themselves to the humbler province of observing the phe- nomena it exhibits, and of ascertaining their general laws. By pursuing this plan steadily, they have, in the course of the two last centuries, formed a body of science, which not only does honour to the human understanding, but has had a most important influence on the practical arts of life. This experimental philosophy no one now is in danger of confounding with the metaphysical speculations already mentioned. Of the importance of these, as a separate branch of study, it is possible that some may think more favourably than others; but they are obvi- ously different in their nature from the investigations of physics ; and it is of the utmost consequence to the evidence of this last science, that its principles should not be blended with those of the former. A similar distinction takes place among the questions which may be stated relative to the human mind.—Whether it be extended or unex- tended : whether or not it has any relation to place; and (if it has) whether it resides in the brain, or be spread over the body, bydiffu- sion ; are questions perfectly analogous to those which metaphysicians have started on the subject of matter. It is unnecessary tOyiiiquire, at present, whether or not they admit of answer. It is sufficient for my purpose to remark, that they are as widely and obviousJjr different from * Some Metaphysicians who appear to admit the truth of the foregoing reason- ing, have farther urged, that for any thing we can prove to the contrary, it is pos- sible, that the unknown substance which has the qualities of extension, figure, and colour, may be the same with the unknown substance which has the attri- butes offeeling, thinking and willing. But besides that this is only an hypothesis. which amounts to nothing more than a mere possibility, even if it were true, it would no more be proper to say of mind, that it is material, than to say of body, that it is spiritual. 12 ELEMENTS OF THE FHH OSOl'HY the view, which I propose to take of the human mind, in the follow^ work, as the reveries of Berkeley concerning the non-existence of the material world, are from the conclusions of Newton and his followers.— It is farther evident, that the metaphysical opinions, which we may happen to have formed concerning the nature either ot body or of mind, and the efficient causes by which their phenomena are produced, have no necessary connexion with our inquiries concerning the laws, ac- cording to which these phenomena take place.—Whether (for example) the cause of gravitation be material or immaterial, is a point about which two Newtonians may differ, while they agree perfectly in their physical opinions. It is sufficient, if both admit the general fact that bodies tend to approach each other, with a force varying with their mu- tual distance, according to a ■ ertain law. In like mar.ner, in the study of the human mind the conclusions to which we are led, by a careful examination of the phenomena it exhibits, have no necessary connexion with.our opinions concerning its nature and essence—That when two subjects of thought, for instance, have been repeatedly presented to the mind in conjunction, the one has a tendency to suggest the other, is a fact of which lean no more doubt, than of any thiHg for which I have the evidence of my senses; and it is plainly a fact totally unconnected with any hypothesis concerning the nature of the soul, and which will be as readily admitted by the materialist as by the Berkeleian. Notwithstanding, however, the reality and importance of this dis- tinction, it has not hitherto been sufficiently attended to, by the philoso- phers who have treated of the human mind. Dr. Reid is perhaps the only one who has perceived it clearly, or at least who has kept it steadi- ly iu view, in all his inquiries. In the writings, indeed, of several other modern metaphysicians, we meet with a variety of important and well ascertained facts; but, in general, these facts are blended with specu- lations upon subjects which are placed beyond the reach of human faculties.—It is this mixture of fact and of hypothesis, which has brought the philosophy of mind into some degree of discredit ; nor will ever its real value be generally acknowledged, till the distinction, I have endeavoured to illustrate, be understood, and attended to by those who speculate on the subject. By confining their attention to the sensi- ble qualities of body, and to the sensible phenomena it exhibits, we know what discoveries natural philosophers have made: and if the la- bours of Metaphysicians shall ever be rewarded with similar success, it can only be, by attentive and patient reflection on the subjects of their own consciousness. I cannot help taking this opportunity of remarking, on the other hand, that if physical inquirers should think of again employing them- selves in speculations ab ut the nature of matter instead of attempting to ascertain its sensible properties and laws, (and of late there seems to be such a tend.-ncy among some of the followers of Boscovich,) they will soon involve themselves in an inextricable labyrinth, and the firtt principles of physics will be rendered as mysterious and chimerical, as the pneumatology of the schoolmen. The little progress which has hitherto been made in the philosophy of mind, will not appear surprising to those who have attended to the history of natural knowledge. It is only since the time of Lord Bacon, that the study of it has been prosecuted with any degree of success, of OP THE HUMAN MINB. 13 that the proper method of conducting it has been generally understood. There is even some reason for doubting, from the crude speculations on medical and chemical subjects which are daily offered to the public, whether it be yet understood so completely as is commonly imagined; and whether a fuller illustration of the rules of philosophizing, than Bacon or his followers have given, might not be useful, even to physical inquirers. When we reflect, in thisroanrier, on the shortness of the period during which natural philosophy has been successfully cultivated ; and, at the same time, consider how open to our examination the laws of matter are, in comparison of those which regulate the phenomena of thought, we shall neither be dii>pos3d to wonder, that the philosophy of mind should still remain in its infancy, nor be discouraged in our hopes con- cerning its future progress. The excellent modles of this species of in- vestigation, which the writings of Dr. Reid exhibit, give us ground to expect that the time is not far distant, when it shall assume that rank which it is entitled to hold among the sciences. It would probably contribute much to accelerate the progress of the philosophy of mind, if a distinct explanation were given of its nature and object; and if some general rules were laid down, with respect to the proper method of conducting the study of it. To this subject, however, which is of sufficient extent to furnish matter for a separate work, I cannot attempt to do justice at present; and shall therefore confine myself to the illustration of a few fundamental principles, which it will be of essential importance for us to keep in view in the following inquiries. Upon a slight attention to the operations of our own minds, they ap- pear to be so complicated, and so infinitely diversified, that it seems to be impossible to reduce them to any general laws. In consequence, however, of a more accurate examination, the prospect clears up ; and the phenomena, which appeared, at first, to be too various for our comprehension, are found to be the result of a comparatively small number of simple and uncompounded faculties, or of simple and un- compounded principles of action. These faculties and principles are the general laws of our constitution, and hold the same place in the philosophy of mind, that the general laws we investigate in physics, hold in that branch of science. In both cases, the laws which nature has established are to be investigated only by an examination of facts ; and in both cases, a knowledge of these laws leads to an explanation of an infinite number of phenomena. In the investigation of physical laws, it is well known, thai our in- quiries must always terminate in some general fact, of which uo ac- count can be given, but that such is the constitution of nature. After we have established, for example, from the astronomical phenomena, the universality of the law of gravitation, it may still be asked, whether this law implies the constant agency of mind ; and (upon the supposi- tion that it does) whether it be probable that the Deity always operates immediately, or by means of subordinate instruments! But these ques- tions, however curious, do not fall under the province of the natural philosopher. It is sufficieRt for his purpose, if the universality of the fact be admitted. 11 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILO«OFHV The case is exactly the same in the philosophy of mind. When wo have once ascertained a general fact; such as, the various laws which regulate the association of ideas, or the dependence of Memory on that effort of the mind which we call Attention; it is all we ought to aim at in this branch of science. If we proceed no farther than facts for which we have the evidence of our own consciousness, onr conclu- sions will be no less certain, than those in physics : but if our curiosity leads us to attempt an explanation of the association of ideas, by cer- tain supposed vibrations, or other changes, in the state of the brain ; or to explain memory, by means of supposed impressions and traces in the sensorium ; we evidently blend a collection of important and well ascertained truths, with principles which rest wholly on conjecture.* The observations which have been now stated, with respect to the proper limits of philosophical curiosity, have too frequently escaped the attention of speculative men, in all the different departments of sci- ence. In none of these, however, has this inattention produced such a variety of errors and absurdities, as in the science of mind ; a subject to which, till of late, it does not seem to have been suspected, that the general rules of philosophizing are applicable. The strange mixture of fact and hypothesis, which the greater part of metaphysical inquiries exhibit, had led almost universally to a belief, that it is only a very faint • There is indeed one view of the connexion between Mind and Matter, which is perfectly agreeable to the just rules of philosophy. The object of this is, to as- certain the laws which regulate their union, without attempting tQ explain in what manner they are united. Lord Bacon was, I believe, the first who'gave a distinct idea of this sort of spe- culation, and I do not know that much progress has yet been made in it. In his books de Augmcntis Scientiarum, a variety of subjects are enumerated, in order to illustrate its nature ; and, undoubtedly, most of these are in a high degree cu- rious and important. The following list comprehends the chief of those he has mentioned ; with the addition of several others, recommended to the considera- tion of Philosophers and of Medical Inquirers, by the late Dr. Gregory. See his Lectures on the Duties and Qualifications of a Physician. 1. The doctrine of the preservation and improvement of the different senses. 2. The history of the power and influence of imagination. 3. The history of the several species of enthusiasm. 4. The history of the various circumstances in parents, that have an influence on conception, and on the constitution and characters of their children. 5. The history of dreams. 6. The history of the laws of custom and habit. 7. The history of the effects ot musick, and of such other things aa operate on the mind and body, in consequence of impressions made on the senses. 8. The history of natural signs and language, comprehending the doctrine of physiognomy and of outward gesture. 9. The history of the power and laws of the principle of imitation. To this list various other subjects might be added ; particularly, the history of the laws of memory, in so far as they appear to be connected with the state of the body ; and the history of the different species of madness. This view of the connexion between Mind and Matter does not fall properly under the plan of the fol\owing work ; in which my leading object is to ascertain the principles of our nature, in so far as they can be discovered by attention to the subjects of our own consciousness ; and to apply these principles to explain the phenomena arising from them. Various incidental remarks, however, will oc- cur in the course of our inquiries tending to illustrate some of the subjects com- prehended in the foregoing enumeration. OF THE HUMAN MINtt. 15 and doubtful light, which human reason can ever expect to throw on this dark, but interesting, field of speculation. Besides this inattention to the proper limits of philosophical inquiry, other sources of error from which the science of physics is entirely exr empted, have contributed to retard the progress of the philosophy of mind. Of these, the most important proceed from that disposition which is so natural to every person at the commencement of his philosophical pursuits, to explain intellectual and moral phenomena by the analogy of the material world. I before took notice of those habits of inattention to the subjects of our consciousness, which take their rise in that period of our lives, when we are necessarily employed in acquiring a knowledge of the properties and laws of matter. In consequence of this early familiarity with the phenomena of the material world, they appear to us less mysterious than those of mind; and we are apt to think that we have advanced one step in explaining the latter, when we can point out some analogy between them and the former. It is owing to the same circumstance, that we have scarcely any appropriated language with respect to mind, and that the words, which express its different operations, are almost all borrowed from the objects of our senses. It must, however, appear manifest, upon a very little reflection, that as the two subjects are es- sentially distinct, and as each of them has its peculiar laws, the analo- gies we are pleased to fancy between them, can be of no use in illus- trating either ; and that it is no less unphilosophical to attempt an ex- planation of perception, or of the association of ideas, upon mechanical principles, than It would be to explain the phenomena of gravitation, by supposing, as some of the ancients did, the particles of matter to be ani- mated with principles of motion ; or to explain the chemical phenomena of elective attractions, by supposing the substances among which they are observed to be endowed with thought and volition.—The analogy of matter, therefore, can be of no use in the inquiries which form the object of the following work ; but on the contrary, is to be guarded against, as one of the principal sources of the errors to which we are liable. 4mong the different philosophers who have speculated concerning the human mind, very few indeed can be mentioned, who have at all times been able to guard against analogical theories. At the same time, it must be acknowledged, that since the publication of Des Cartes' writings there has been a gradual, and, on the whole, a very remark- able improvement in this branch of science. One striking proof of this is, the contrast between the metaphysical speculations of some of the most eminent philosophers in England at the end of the last century, and those which we find in the systems, however yrnpeifed; of the present age. Would any writer now offer to the world such-conclusions with respect to the mind, as are contained in the two following passages from Locke and Newton ? " Habits," (says Locke,) "seem to be but " trains of motion, in the animal spirits, which, once set a-going, con- " tinue in the same steps they had been used to, which, by often tread- " ing, are worn into a smooth path." And Newton himself has propos- ed the following query, concerning the manner in which the mind per- ceives external objects. " Is not, (says he,)the sensorium of animals the tc place where the sentient substance is present, and to which the sensi- 10 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY * ble species of things are brought, through the nerves and brain, thai " they may be perceived by the mind present in that place ?''—In the course of the following Essays, I shall have occasion to quote various other passages from later writers, iu which an attempt it made to ex- plain the other phenomena of mind upon similar principles. It is, however, much to be regretted, that even bincethe period when philosophers began to adopt a more rational plan of inquiry with respect to such subjects, they have been obliged to spend so much of their time in clearing away the rubbish collected by their predecessors. This in- deed was a preliminary step, which the state of the science, and the conclusions to which it had led, rendered absolutely necessary ; for, however important the positive advantages may be, which are to be ex- pected from its future progress, they are by no means so essential to human improvement and happiness, as a satisfactory refutation of that sceptical philosophy, which had struck at the root of all knowledge and all belief. Such a refutation seems to have been the principal object which Dr. Reid proposed to himself in his> metaphysical inquiries; and to this object his labours have been directed with so much ability, can- dour, and perseverance, that unless future sceptics should occupy a ground very different from that of their predecessors, it is not likely that the controversy will ever be renewed. The rubbish being now removed and the foundations laid, it is time to begin the superstructure. The progress which I have made in it is I am sensible, very inconsider- able ; yet I flatter myself, that the little I have done, will be sufficient to illustrate the importance of the study, and to recommend the subjects,' ttf which I am to treat, to the attention of others. After the remarks which I have now made the reader will not be surprised to find, that I have studiously avoided the consideration of those questions which have been agitated in the present age, between the patrons of the sceptical philosophy, and their opponents. These controversies have, in truth, no peculiar connexion with the inquiries on which Iain to enter. It is indeed only by an examination of the prin- ciples of our nature, that they can be brought to a satisfactory conclu- sion ; but supposing them to remain undecided, our sceptical doubts concerning the certainty of human knowledge, would no more affect the philosophy of mind, than they would affect any of the branches of physics ; n. r would our doubts concerning even the existence of mind affect this branch of science, any more than the doubts of the Berke- lehn, concerning the existence of matter, affect his opinions in natural philosophy. To what purposes the Philosophy of the human mind, according to the view which I propose to take of it, is subservient, I shall endeavour to expl-vn, at some length, in the following section. OF THE HUMAN MIND. 17 PART SECOND. SECTION I. Of the Utility of the Philosophy of the Human Mind. It has been often remarked that there is a mutual connexion between the different arts and sciences ; and that the improvements which are made in one branch of human knowledge, frequently throw lijht otl others, to which it has apparently a very remote relation The moderrt discoveries in astronomy, and in pure mathematics, have contributed to bring the art of navigatioato a degree of pertection formerly unknown. The rapid progress which has been lately made in astronomy, anatomy, and botany, has been chiefly owing to the aid which these sciences have received from the art of the optician. Although, however, the different departments of science and of art mutually reflect light on each other, it is not always necessary either for the philosopher or the artist to aim at the acquisition of general knowledge. Both of them may safely take many principles for granted, without being able to demonstrate their truth. A seaman, though igno- rant of mathematics, may apply, with correctness and dexterity, the rules for finding the longitude: An astronomer, or a botanist, though ignorant of optics, may avail himself of the use of the telescope, or the microscope These observations are daily exemplified in the case of the artist j who has seldom eitner inclination or leisure to speculate concerning the principles of his art It is rarely, however, we meet with a man of sci- ence, who has confined his studies wholly to one branch of knowledge. That curiosity, which he has been accustomed to indulge in the course of his favourite pursuit, will naturally extend itself to every remarkable object which falls und< r his observation ; and can scarcely fail to be a source of perpetual dis-atbfaction to his mind, till it has been so far gratified as to enable hirn to explai-i all the various phenomena, which his professional habits are even day presenting to his view. As every particular science is in this manner connected with others, to which it naturally dire ts the attention, so all the pursuits of life, whether they terminate in speculation or action, are connected with that general science, which has the human mind for its object. The powers of the understanding are instruments which all men em- ploy ; and his curiosity must be small indeed, who passes through life in a tota! ignorance of faculties, which his wants and necessities force him hubitu illy to exercise, arid which so remarkably distinguish man from the lower animals. The active principles of our nature, which, by their various modifications and combinations, give rise to all the moral differences among men, are fitted, in a still higher degree, if possible, to interest those who are either dispt s ducation ; and yet the execution even of this part requires an ac- quaintance with the general pr nciples of our nature, which seldom falls to the share of those to whom the instruction of youth is commonly in- trust d—Nor will such a theoretical knowledge of the human mind, as I have now described, be always sufficient in practice. An uncom- mon degree of sagacity is frequently requisite, in order to accommodate general rules to particular tempers, and characters.—In whatever way we choose to account for it, whether by original organization, or by the operation of moral causes in very early infancy : no fact can be more undeniable than that there are important differences discernible in the minds of children, previous to that period at which, in general, their in- tellectual edu ation commences. There is, too, a certain hereditary character (whether resulting from physical constitution, or caught from imitation and the influence of situation,) which appears remarkably in particular families. One race, for a succession of generations, is dis- tinguished by a genius for the abstract sciences, while it is deficient in vivacity, in imagination, and in taste : another is no less distinguished for wit, and gayety, and fancy ; while it appears incapable of patient attention, or of profound research. The system of education whi'h is proper to be adopted in particular cases, ought, undoubtedly, to have some reference to these circumstances j and to be calculated, as much as possible, to develope and to cherish those intellectual and active prin- ciples in which a natural deficiency is most to be apprehended. Mon- tesquieu, and other speculative politicians, have insisted much on the OF THE HUMAN MIND. 21 reference which education and laws should have to climate. I shall not take upon me to say, how far their conclusions on mis subject are just; but I am fully persuaded, that there is a foundation in philosophy, and good sense, for accommodating, at a very early period of life, the edu- cation of individuals to those particular turns of mind, to which, from hereditary propensiiiesj or from moral situation, they may be pre-umed to have a natural tendenc}*. There are a few subjects more hackneyed than that of education, and yet there is none, upon which the opinions of the world are still more divided. Nor is this surprising;: for most of those who have speculat- ed concerning it, have confined their attention chiefly to incidental questions about the comparative advantages of public or private in- struction, or the utility of particular languages or sciences ; without at- tempting a previous examination of those faculties and principles of the mind, which it is the great object of education to improve. Many ex- cellent detached observations, indeed, both on the intellectual and mo- ral powers, are to be collected from the writings of ancient and modern authors ; but I do not know, that in any language, an attempt has been made to analyze and illustrate the principles of huma:i nature, in order to lay a philosophical foundation for their proper culture. I have even heard some very ingenious and intelligent men dispute the propriety of so systematical apian of instruction. The most suc- cessful and splendid exertions, both in the sciences and arts, (it has been frequently remarked.) have been made by individuals, in whose minds the seeds oi genius were allowed to shoot up, wild and free; while, from the most careful and skilful tuition, seldom any thino- results above mediocrity. 1 shall not, at present, enter into any discussions with respect to the certainty of the fact on whu-h this opinion is found- ed. Supposing the fact to be completely established, it must still be remembered, that originality of genius does not always imply vigour and comprehensiveness and liberality of mind ; and that it is desirable only, in so far as it is compatible with these more valuable qualities. I already hinted, that there are some pursuits, in which, as they require the exer- tion only of a small number of our faculties an individual, who has a natural turn for them will be more likely to distinguish himself, by beino* suffered to follow his original bias, than if his attention were distracted by a more liberal course of study. But wherever such men are to be found, they must be considered, on the most favourable supposition, as having sacrificed, to a certain decree, the perfection and the happiness of their nature, to the amusement or instruction of others. It is too in times of general darkness and barbarism, that what is commonly called originality of genius most frequently appears : and surely the great aim of an enlightened and benevolent philosophy, is not to rear a small number of individual*, who may he regarded as prodigies in an ignorant and admiring age, but to diffuse, as widely as possible, that degree of cultivation which may enable the bulk of a people to possess all the intellectual and moral improvement of which their nature is susceptible. " Original genius" (says Voltaire) "occurs but seldom in a nation where " the literary taste is formed. The number of cultivated minds which " there abound, like the trees in a thick and flourishing forest, prevent ,{ any single individual from rearing his head far above the rest. Where iS trade is iu few hands, we meet with a small number of overgrown <>'> ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY " fortunes in the midst of a general poverty: in proportion as it extends, *' opulence becomes general, and great fortunes rare. It is, precisely, l< because there is at present much light, and much cultivation in France, " that we are led to complain of the want of superior genius." To what purpose, indeed, it may be said, all this labour ? Is not the importance of every thing to man, to be ultimately estimated by its tendency to promote his happin.ss ? And is not our daily experience sufficient to convince us, that this is in general, by no means proportion- ate to the culture which his nature has received ?—Nay, is there not some ground for fuspecting, that the lower orders of men enjoy on the whole, a more enviable condition, than their more enlightened and refin- ed superiors ? The truth, I apprehend, is, that happiness, in so far as it arises from the mind itself, will be always proportioned to the degree of perfection which its powers have attained : but that, in cultivating these powers, with a view to this most important of all objects, it is essentially neces- sary that such a degree of attention be bestowed on all of them, as may preserve them in that state of relative strength, which appears to be agreeable to the intentions of nature. In consequence of an exclusive attention to the culture of the imagination, the taste, the reasoning faculty, or any of the active principles, it is possible that the pleasures of human life may be diminished, or its pains increased : but the incon- veniences which are experienced in such cases, are not to be ascribed" to education, but to a partial and injudicious education. In such cases, it is possible, that the poet, the metaphysician, or the man of taste and refinement, may appear to disadvantage, when compared with the vul- gar ; for such is the benevolent appointment of Providence with respect to the lower orders, that, although not one principle of their nature be completely unfolded, the whole of these principles preserve among them- selves that balance,which is favourable to the tranquillity of their minds, and to a prudent and steady conduct in the limited sphere which is as- signed to them, far more completely, than in those of their superiors, whose education has been conducted on an erroneous or imperfect sys- tem : but all this, far from weakening the force of the foregoing obser- vations, only serves to demonstrate, how impossible it always will be, to form a rational plan for the improvement of the mind, without an accurate and comprehensive knowledge of the principles of the human constitution. The remarks which have been already made, are sufficient to illustrate the dangerous consequences, which are likely to result from a partial and injudicious cultivation of the mind; and, at the same time, to point out the utility of the intellectual philosophy, in enabling us to preserve a proper balance among all its various faculties, principles of action and capacities of enjoyment. Many additional observations might be offer- ed, on the tendency, which an accurate analysis of its powers might probably have to suggest rules for their farther improvement, and for a more successful application of them to their proper purposes : but this subject I shall not prosecute at present, as the illustration of it is one of the leading objects of the following work.—That the memory, the ima- gination, or the reasoning faculty, are to be instantly strengthened in consequence of our speculations concerning their nature, it would be absurd to suppose ; but it is surely far from being unreasonable to think, OF THE HUMAN MIND. 23 that aa acquaintance with the laws which regulate these powers, may suggest some useful rules for their gradual cultivation, for remedying their defects in the case of individuals, and even for extending those limits, which nature seems, at first view, to have assigned them. To how great a degree of perfection the intellectual and moral nature of man is capable of being raised by cultivation, it is difficult to conceive. The effects of early, continued, and systematical education, in the case of those children, who are trained, for the sake of gain, to feats of strength and agility, justify, perhaps, the most sanguine views which it is possi- ble for a philosopher to form, with respect to the improvement of the species. I now proceed to consider, how far the philosophy of mind may be useful in accomplishing the second object of education ; by assisting us in the management of early impressions and associations. By far the greater part of the opinions on which we act in life, are not the result of our own investigations ; but are adopted implicitly, in infancy and youth, upon the authority of others. Even the great prin- ciples of morality, although implanted in every heart, are commonly aided and cherished, at least to a certain degree, by the care of our in- structers.—All this is undoubtedly agreeable to the intentions of nature; and, indeed, were the case otherwise, society could not subsist; for no- thing can be more evident, than that the bulk of mankind, condemned as they are to laborious occupations which are incompatible with intel- lectual improvement, are perfectly incapable of forming their own opin- ions on some of the most important subjects that can employ the human mind. It is evident, at the same time, that as no system of education is perfect, a variety of prejudices must in this way take an early hold of our belief; so as to acquire over it an influence not inferior to that of the most incontrovertible truths. When a child hears, either a speculative absurdity, or an erroneous principle of action, recommended and enforc- ed daily, by the same voice which first conveyed to it those simple and sublime lessons of morality and religion which are congenial to its na- ture, is it to be wondered at, that, in future life, it should find it so dif- ficult to eradicate prejudices which have twined their roots with all the essential principles of the human frame ?—If such, however, be the ob- vious intentions of nature, with respect to those orders of men who are employed in bodily labour, it is equally clear, that she meant to impose it as a double obligation on those who receive the advantages of a libe- ral education, to examine, with the most scrupulous care the foundation of all those received opinions, which have any connection with morali- ty, or with human happiness. If the multitude must be led, it is of con- sequence, surely, that it should be led by enlightened conductors ; by men who are able to distinguish truth from error ; and to draw the line between those prejudices which are innocent or salutary, (if indeed there are any prejudices which are really salutary,) and those which are hostile to the interests of virtue and of mankind. . In such a state of society as that in which we live, the prejudices of a moral, a political, and a religious nature, which we imbibe in early life, are so various, and at the same time so intimately blended with the belief we entertain of the most sacred and important truths, that a great part of the life of a philosopher must necessarily be devoted, not so much to the acquisition of new knowledge, as to unlearn the errors, 21 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY to which he had been taught to give an implicit assent, before the dawn of reason and reflection And unless he submit in this manner to bring all his opinions to the test of a severe examination, his ingenuity, and his learning, instead of enlightening the world, will only enable him to give an additional currency, and an additional authority to establish- ed errors. To attempt such a struggle against early prejudices, is, in- deed the professed aim of all philosophers; but how few are to be found who have force of mind sufficient for accomplishing their object; and who, in freeing themselves from one set of errors, do not allow themselves to be carried away with another? To succeed in it com- pletely, Lord Bacon seems to have thought, (in one of the most remark- able passages of his writings,) to be more than can well be expected from human frailty.—'• Nemo adhuc tanta mentis constantia inventus " est ut decreverit, et sibi imposuerit, theorias et notiones communes *• penitus abolpre. et intellectum abrasum et aequumad particularie, de •' integro, applicare. Itaque ilia ratio humana, quaui habemus, ex mul- " ta fiJe. et multoetiam casu, nee non ex puerilibus, q jas primo hausi- " mus, notionibus, farrago quaedam est et congeries. Quod siquis, ae- " tate matura, et sens'bus integris, et mente repurgata, se ad experien- ** tism, et ad particularia de integro applicet de eo melius speranduiu " est." Nor is it merely in order to free the mind from the influence of error, that it is useful to examine the foundation of established opinions. It is such an examination alone, that, in an inquisitive age like the present, can secure a philosopher from the danger of unlimited scepticism. To this extreme, indeed, the complexion of the times is more likely to give him a tendency, than to implicit credulity. In the former ages of igno- rance and superstition, the intimate association which had been formed, in the prevailing systems of education, between truth and error, had given to the latter an ascendant over the minds of men, which it could never have acquired, if divested of such an alliance. The case has, of late years, been most remarkably reversed ; the common sense of man- kind, in consequence of the growth of a more liberal spirit of inquiry, has revolted against many of those absurdities, which had so long held hu- man reason in captivity ; and it was, perhaps, more than could reason- ably have been expected, that, in the first moments of their emancipa- tion, philosophers should nave stopped short, at the precise boundary, which cooler reflection, and more moderate views, would have prescrib- ed. The fact is, that they have passed far beyond it; and that in their z?al to destroy prejudices, they have attempted to tear up by the roots many of the best and happiest and most essential principles of our nature. Having remarked the powerful influence of education over the mind, they have concluded, that man is wholly a factitious being ; not recol- lecting, that this very susceptibility of educatior presupposes certain original principles, which are common to the whole species ; and that, as error can only take a permanent hold of a candid mind by being grafted on truths, which it is unwilling or unable to eradicate, even ihe influence, which false and absurd opinions occasionally acquire over the belief, instead of being an argument forunivtrsal scepticism, is. the most decisive argument against it; in as much as it shews, that there are some truths so incorporated and identified with our nature, that they can reconcile us even to the absurdities and contradictions with which OF THE HUMAN MIND. 25 We suppose them to be inseparably connected. The sceptical philoso- phers, for example, of the present age have frequently attempted to hold up to ridicule these contemptible and puerile superstitions, which have disgraced the creeds of some of the most enlightened nations ; and which have not only commanded the assent, but the-reverence, of men of the most accomplished understandings- But these histories of human imbecility* are, in truth, the strongest testimonies which can be produc- ed to prove, how wonderful is the influence of the fundamental princi- ples of morality over the belief; when they are able to sanctify, in the apprehensions of mankind, every extravagant opinion, and every un- meaning ceremony, which early education has taught us to associate with them. That impli it credulity is a mark of a feehle mind, will not be disput- ed; but it may not, perhaps, be as generally acknowledged, that the case is the same w th unlimited scepticism : on thee -trary, we are sometimes apt to ascribe this deposition to a more than ordinary vigour of intellect. Such a prejudice was by no means unnatural at that period in the history of modern Europe, when reason first began to throw off tin yoke of authority ; and when it unquestionably required a superinri y of understanding, as well as of intrepidity, for an individual to resist the contagion of prevailing superstit'on But in the present age. in which the tendency of fashionable opinions is directly opposite to those of the vulgar ; the philosophical creed, or the philosophical scepticism, of by far the greater number of those, who value themselves on an emancipation fr be the lights of the world, to fix the wavering opinions of the multitude, and to impress their own characters on that of their age. For securing the mind completely from the weaknesses I have now been describing, and enabling it to maintain a steady course of inquiry, between implicit credulity and unlimited scepticism, the most important of all qualities is a sincere and devoted attachment to truth, which sel- dom fails to be accompanied with a manly confidence in the clear con- clusions of human reason. It is such a confidence, united, (as it gene- rally is) with personal intrepidity, which forms what the French wri- ters call force of character ; one of the rarest endowments, it must be confessed, of our species; but which, of all endowments, is the most essential for rendering a philosopher happy in himself, and a blessing to inai.kind. There is, I think, good reason for hoping, that the sceptical tendency of the present age will be only a temporary evil. While it continues, however, it is an evil of the most alarming nature ; and, as it extends, in general, not only to religion and morality, but, in some measure, also vol. i. 4 26 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY to politics, and the conduct of life, it is equally fatal to the comfort of the individual, and to the improvement of society. Even in its mo»t in- offensive form, when it happens to be united with a peaceable disposition and a benevolent heart, it cannot fail to have the effect of damping every active and patriotic exertion. Convinced that truth is placed be- yond the reach of human faculties ; and doubtful how far the prejudi- ces we despise may not be essential to the well being of society, we re- solve to abandon completely all speculative inquiries : and, suffering ourselves to be carried quietly along with the stream of popular opin- ions and of fashionable manners, determine, to amuse ourselves, the best way we can. with business or pleasure, during our short passage through this scene of illusions. But he who thinks more favourably of the hu- man powers, and who believes that reason was given to man to dir-ct him to his duty and his happiness, will despise the suggestions of this timid philosophy ; and while he is conscious that he is guided in his in- quiries only by the love of truth, will rest assured that their result will be equally favourable to his own comfort, and to the best interest of mankind. What, indeed, will be the particular effects, in the first in- stance, of that general diffusion of knowledge, which the art of printing must sooner or later produce, and of that spirit of reformation with which it cannot fail to be accompanied, it is beyond the reach of hu- man sagacity to conjecture ; but unless we choose to abandon our- selves entirely to a desponding scepticism, wo must hope and believe, that the progress of human reason can never be a source of permanent disorder to the world ; and that they alone have cause to apprehend the consequences, who are led, by the imperfection of our present insti- tutions, to feel themselves interested in perpetuating the prejudices and follies of their species. From the observations which have been made, it sufficiently appears, that in order to secure the mind, on the one hand, from the influence of prejudice; and on the other, from a tendency to unlimited scepticism, it is necessary that it should be able to distinguish the original and uni- versal principles and laws of human nature, from the adventitious effects of local situation. But if, in the case of an individual, who has received an imperfect or erroneous education, such a knowledge puts it in his power to correct, to a certain degree, his own bad habits, and to sur- mount his own speculative errors, it enables him to be useful, in a much higher degree, to those whose education he has an opportunity of superintending from early infancy. Such, and so permanent, is the effect of first impressions on the character, that although a philosopher may succeed by perseverance, in freeing his reason from the prejudices with which he was entangled, they will still retain some hold of his imagination, and bis affections; and, thereftre, however enlightened his understanding may be in his hours of speculation, his philosophical opinions will frequently lose their influence over his mind, in those very situations, in which their practical assistance is most required :—when his temper is soured by misfortune; or when he engages in the pursuits of life, and exposes himself to the contagion ot popular errors. His opinions are supported merely by speculative arguments; and, instead, of being connected with any of the active principles of his nature, are counteracted and thwarted by some of the most powerful of them. How different would the case be, if education were conducted, from the be- OF THE HUMAN MIND. 27 ginning, with attention and judgment ? Were the same pains taken, to impress truth on the mind in early infancy, that is often taken to incul- cate error, the great principles of our conduct would not only be juster than they are ; but in consequence of the aid which they would re- ceive from the imagination and the heart, trained to conspire with them in the same direction, they would render us happier in ourselves, and would influence our practice more powerfully and more habitually. There is surely nothing in error which is more congenial to the mind than truth. On the contrary, when exhibited separately and alone to the understanding, it shocko our reason, and provokes our ridicule; and it is only, (as I had occasion already to remark,) by an alliance with truths, which we find it difficult to renounce, that it can obtain our as- sent, or command our reverence. What advantages, then, might be derived from a proper attention to early impressions and associations, in giving support to those principles which are connected with human happiness ? The long reign of error in the world, and the influence it maintains, even in an age of liberal inquiry, far from being favourable to the supposition, that human reason is destined to be forever the sport of prejudice and absurdity, demonstrates the tendency which there is to permanence in established opinions, and in established institutions ; and promises an eternal stability to true philosophy,when it shall once have acquired the ascendant; and when proper means shall be employed to support it, by a more perfect system of education. Let us suppose, for a moment that this happy a?ra were arrived, and that all the prepossessions of childhood and youth were directed to sup- port the pure and sublime truths of an enlightened morality.—With what ardour, and with what transport, would the understanding, when arrived at maturity, proceed in the search of truth; when, instead of being obliged to struggle, at every step, with early prejudices, its office was merely to add the force of philosophical conviction to impressions, which are equally delightful to the imagination, and dear to the heart! The prepossessions of childhood would, through the whole of life, be gradually acquiring strength from the enlargement of our knowledge ; and in their turn, would fortify the conclusions of our reason, against the sceptical suggestions of disappointment or melancholy. Our daily experience may convince us, how susceptible the tender mind is of deep impressions ; and what important and permanent ef- fects are produced on the characters and the happiness of individuals, by the casual associations formed in childhood among the various ideas, feelings, and affections, with which they were habitually occupied. It is the business of education not to counteract this constitution of nature, but to give it a proper direction : and the miserable consequences to which it leads, when under an improper regulation, only shew what an important instrument of human improvement it might be rendered, in more skilful hands. If it be possible to interest the imagination and the heart in favour of error, it is, at least, no less possible to interest them in favour of truth. If it be possible to extinguish all the most generous and heroic feelings of our nature, by teaching us to connect the idea of them with those of guilt and impiety, it is surely equally possible to cher- ish and strengthen them,* by establishing the natural alliance between our duty and our happiness. If it be possible for the influence of fashion to veil the native deformity of vice, and to give to low and criminal in- 28 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY diligences the appearance of spirit, of elegance, and of gaiety : can we douv-'t cf the possibility <>f toniiei to g. in the tender mind, tbe<-e , leas- ing associations with pursuits that are truly worthy and hou. innhle <— There are f \\ men to be found, among tho-e who have rereivfd the ad- vantages of a liberal education, who do not retain, through life t'es- sion, on the whole, and one of which I should be so* r> to counteract the influence. But are there not oticisof equal importance to morality and to happiness, with wlioli the mind might, at the ^utie peiiod of life be inspired ? II the fi**-t conceptions for example, which mi infant f>nned of the Deity, and itsfi-.-t moral perceptions, were associated with the early impressions produced on the heart by ti^e" beauties of nature, or the charms of poetical description, those serious thoughts which are resorted to, by most men, merely as a source of consolation in adversi- ty, and which, on that very account, are frequently tinctured with some degree of gloom, would recur spontaneously to the mind in its best and happiest hours ; and would insensibly blend themselves with all its purest and most refirvd enjoyments. In those parts of Europe where the prevailing opinions involve the greatest variety of errors and corruptions, it is. 1 believe, a common idea with many respectable and enlightened men, that, in every coun- try, it is most prudent to conduct the religion*- instruction of youth up- on the plan which is prescribed by the national eMahli»hment: in order that the pupil, according to the vigour or feebleness of his mind, may ei- ther shake off, in future life, the prejudices of the nursery, or die in the * popular persuasion. This idea I own, appears to me to be equally ill- founded and dangerous. If religio* s opinions have, as will not be dis- puted, a powerful influence on the happiness and on the conduct of man- kind, does not humanity require of us, to rescue as many victims aspos- sible from the hands of bigotry : and to save them from the cruel alter- native, of remaining under the gloom of a depressing superstition, or of being distracted by a perpetual conflict between the heart and the un- derstanding ?—It is an enlightened education alone that in.most coun- tries of Europe, can save the young philosopher from that anxiety and despondence, which every man of sensibility, who, in his childhood, has imbibed the popular opinions, must necessarily experience, when he first begins to examine their foundation ; and, what is of still greater importance, which can save him, during life, from that occasional scep- ticism, to which all men are liable, whose systems fluctuate with the in- equalities of their spirits, and the variations of the atmosphere. I shall conclude this subject, with remarking, that, although in all moral and religious systems, there is a great mixture of important truth, and although it is, inconsequence of this alliance, that errors and ab- surdities are enabled to preserve their hold of the belief, yet it is com- monly found, that, in proportion as an established creed is complicated in its dogmas and in its ceremonies, and in proportion to the number of accessory ideas which it has grafted upon the truth, the more diffi- cult is it, for those who have adopted it in childhood to emancipate themselves completely from its influen. e ; and, in those cases in which they at last succeed, the greater is their danger of abandoning, along with their errors, all the truths which they have been taught to con- OF THE HUMAN MIND. 2$ nect with them. The Roman Catholic system is shaken off with much greater difficulty, than those which are taught in the reformed chuiches: but when it loses its hold of the mind, it much more frequently prepares the way for unlimited scepticism. The causes of this I may perhaps have an opportunity of pointing out, in treating of the association of ideas. I have now finished all that I think necessary to offer, at present, on the application of the philosophy of mind to the subject of education. To some readers, I am afraid, that what I have advanced on the subject, will appear to border on enthusiasm ; and I will not attempt to justify myself against the charge. I am well aware of the tendency, which spe- culative men sometimes have, to magnify the effects of education, as well as to entertain too sanguine views of the improvement of the world ; and 1 am ready to acknowledge that there are instances of in- dividuals, whose vigour of mind is sufficient to overcome everything that is pernicious in their early habits : but I am fully persuaded, that these instances are rare ; and that by far the greater part of mankind continue, through life, to pursue the same track into which they have been thrown by the accidental circumstances of situation, instruction, and example. SECTION II. Continuation of the same Subject. The remarks which have been hitherto made, on the utility of the philosophy of the human mind, are of a very general nature, and apply equally to all descriptions of men. Besides, however, these more obvi- ous advantages of the study, there are others, which, though less strik- ing and less extensive in their application, are nevertheless, to some par- ticular classes of individuals, of the highest importance. Without pre- tending to exhaust the subject, I shall offer a few detached observations upon it, in this section. 1 already took notice, in general terms, of the common relation which all the different branches of our knowledge bear to the philosophy of the human mind In consequence of this relation, it not only forms an inte- resting object of curiosity to literary men of every denomination, but, if su. essfully piosecuted, it cannot fail to furnish useful lights for dire.rt" ing their inquiries ; whatever the nature of the subjects may be, which happen to engage their attention . . In order to be satisfied of the justness of this observation, it is suffi- cient to recollect, that to the philosophy of the mind are to be referred all our inquiries concerning th. divisions and the classifications of the objects of human knowledge, and also, all the various rules, both for the investigation, and thecommuni ation, of truth. These general views Of science and these general rules of method,.ought to form the subjects of a national and useful logic ; a study -mdoubtedly, m itself of the greatestimportai.ee and dignity, but in which less progress has hither to been made than is commonly imagined. 30 ELEMENTS OF THE PHlLObOPHl I shall endeavour to illustrate, very briefly, a few of the advantages which might be expected to result from such a system of logic, if pro- perly executed. I And, in the first place, it is evident that it would be of the highest importance in all the sciences, (in some of them, indeed, much more than in others,) to exhibit a precise and steady idea of the objects which they present to our inquiry.—What was the principal circumstance which contributed to mislead the ancients in their physical researches ? Was it not their confused and wavering notions about the particular class of truths, which it was their business to investigate ? It was owing to thi9, that they were led to neglect the obvious phenomena and laws of moving bodies ; and tc indulge themselves in conjectures ab-ut the efficient causes of motion, and the nature of those minds, by which they conceived the particles of matter to be animated; and that they so often blended the history of facts with their metaphysical speculations. In the present state of science, indeed, we are not liable to such mis- takes in natural philosophy, but it would be difficult to mention any other branch of knowledge, which is entirely exempted from them In metaphysics, I might almost say, they are at the bottom of all our con- troversies. In the celebrated dispute, for example, which has been so long carried on, about the explanation given by the ideal theory of the phenomena of perception, the whole difficulty arose from this, that phi- losophers had no precise notion of the point they wished to ascertain ; and now, that the controversy has been brought to a conclusion, (as I think all men of candour must confess it to have been by Dr. Reid) it will be found, that his doctrine on the subject throws no light whatever on what was generally understood to be the great object of inquiry, I mean, on the mode of communication between the mind and the mate- rial world : and, in truth, amounts only to a precise, description of the fact, stripped of all hypothesis, and stated in such a manner as to give us a distinct view of the insurmountable limits which nature has in this instance prescribed to our curiosity. The same observation may be made on the reasonings of this profound and original author, with re- spect to some metaphysical questions that had been started on the sub- ject of vision ; in particular, concerning the cause of our seeing objects single with two eyes, and our seeing objects erect, by means of inverted images on the retina. If we wpre to examine, in like manner, the present state of morals, of jurisprudence, of politics, and of philosophical criticism, I believe, we should find, that the principal circumstance which retards their progress, is the vague and indistinct idea, which those who apply to the study of them have formed to themselyes of the objects of their re- searches. Were these objects once clearly defined, and the proper plan of inquiry for attaining them illustrated by a few unexceptionable mod- els, writers of inferior genius would be enabled to employ their indus- try to much more advantage ; and would be prevented from adding to that rubbish, which, in consequence of the ill-directed ingenuity of our predecessors, obstructs our progress in the puisuit of truth. As a philosophical system of logic would assist us in our particular scientific investigations, by keeping steadily in our view the attainable objects of human curiosity, so, by exhibiting to us the relation in which they all stand to each other, and the relation which they all bear to OF THE HUMAN MIND. 31 what ought lobe their common aim, the advancement of human happi- ness, it would have a tendency to confine industry and genius to inqui- ries which are of real practical utility ; and would communicate a dig- nity to the most subordinate pursuits, which are in any respect subser- vient to so important a purpose. When our views are limited to one particular science, to which we have been led to devote ourselves by taste or by accident, the course of our studies resembles the progress of a traveller through an unknown country, whose wanderings, from place to place, are determined merely by the impulse of occasional cu- riosity, and whose opportunities of information must necessarily be lim- ited to the objects which accidentally present themselves to his notice. It is the philosophy of the mind alone, which, by furnishing us with a general map of the field of human knowledge, can enable us to pro- ceed with steadiness, and in an useful direction ; and while it gratifies our curiosity, and animates our exertions, by exhibiting to us all the va- rious bearings of our journey, can conduct us to those eminences from whence the eye may wander over the vast and unexplored regions of science. Lord Bacon was the first person who look this comprehensive view of the different departments of study ; and who pointed out, to all the classes of literary men, the great end to which their labours should conspire ; the multiplication of the sources of human enjoyment, and the extension of man's dominion over nature. Had this object been kept steadily in view by his followers, their discoveries, numerous and important as they have been, would have advanced with still greater rapidity, and would have had a much more extensive influence on the practical arts of life.* From such a system of logic, too, important assistance might be ex- pected, for reforming the established plan of public or academical edu- cation. It is melancholy to reflect on the manner in which this is car- ried on, in most, perhaps. I might say, in all the countries of Europe ; and that, in an age of comparative light and liberality, the intellectual and moral characters of youth should continue to be formed on a plan devised by men, who were not only strangers to the business of the world, but who felt themselves interested in opposing the progress of useful knowledge. For accomplishing a reformation in the plan of academical study, on rational and systematical principles, it is necessary, in the first place, to consider the relation in which the different branches of literature, and the different arts and sciences, stand to each other, and to the prac- tical purposes of life : and secondly, to consider them in relation to the human mind, in order to determine the arrangement, best fitted for un- folding and maturing its faculties. Many valuable hints towards such a work may be collected from Lord Bacon's writings. * Omnium an'em gravissimus error in deviatione ab ultimo doctrinarum fine consistit. Appeiunt enim homines scientiam, alii ex insita cunositate et irre- quieta ; alii an imi causa et delectationis, alii existimatioriis gratia : alii conten- tion'^ ergo, atque ut in disserendo superiores sint : plerique propter lucrum et victum : paucissimi, ut donum raiionis, divinitus datum, in iisus humani generis impendunt.—Hoc emm dlud est, quod revera doclrinan atque artes condecoraret et attolleret, si contemplatio, et actio, arctiore quam adhuc vinculo copularentur, Ur Aug. Scient. lib. i. i2 ELEMENTS OF THE PHrLOSOPHY II. Another very important branch of a rational system of logic (as I had occasion already to observe) ought to be, to lay down the r desof investigation which it is proper to follow in the different scienees. In all of these, the faculties of the understanding are the instruments with which we operate ; and without a previous knowledge of their nature, it is impossible to em;iloy them to the best advantage. In every pxer- cise of our reasoning and of our inventive powers, there are general laws which regulate the progress of the mind'; and when once these laws are ascertained, they enable us to speculate and to invent, for the future, with more system, and with a greater certainty of success—In the mechanical arts,it is well known, how much time and ingenuity are misapplied by those who acquire their practical skill by their own tri- als, undirected by the precepts or example of others- What we call the rules of an art are merely a collection of general observations, sug- gested by long experience, with respect to the most compendious and effectual means of performing every different step of the processes which the art involves. In consequence of such rules, the artist is enabled to command the same success in all his operations, for which the unskilled workman must trust to a happy combination of accidental circumstan- ces ; the misapplications, too, of the labour of one race are saved to the next; and the acquisition of practical address is facilitated, by confin- ing its exertions to one direction.—The analogy is perfect in those processes, which are purely intellectual, and to regulate which is the great object of logic. In the case of individuals, who have no other guide to direct them in their inquiries than their own natural sagacity, much time and ingenuity must inevitably be thrown away, in every ex- ertion of the inventive powers. In proportion, however, to the degree of their experience and observation, the number of these misapplica- tions will diminish ; and the power of invention will be enabled to pro- ceed with more certainly and steadiness to its object. The misfortune is, that as the aids, which the understanding derives from experience, are seldom recorded in writing, or even described in words, every suc- ceeding inquirer finds himself, at the commencement of his philosoph- ical pursuits, obliged to struggle with the same disadvantages which had retarded the progress of his predecessors If the more important practical rules, which habits of investigation suggest to individuals, were diligently preserved, each generation would be placed in circum- stances more favourable to invention than the preceding ; and the pro- gress of knowledge, instead of cramping original genius, would assist and direct its exertions. In the infancy of literature, indeed, its range may be more unbounded, and its accidental excursions may excite more astonishment, than in a cultivated and enlightened age ; but it is only in such an age, that inventive genius can be trained by rules found- ed on the experience of our predecessors, in such a mariner as to insure the gradual and regular improvement of science. So just is the re- mark of Lord Bacon : " Certosciant homines, artesinveniendi solidas " et vcras adolcscere el incrementa sumere cum ipsisinventis." The analogy between the mechanical arts, and the operations of sci- entific invention, might perhaps be carried further. In the former we know how much the natural powers of man have been assisted, by the use of tools and instruments. Is it not possible to devise, in like man- ner, certain aids to our intellectual faculties ? OF THE HUMAN MIND. 33 That such a query is not altogether chimerical, appears from the wonderful effects of Algebra (which is precisely such an instrument of thought, as I have been now alluding to) in facilitating the inquiries of modern mathematicians. Whether it might not be possible to realize a project which Leibnitz has some where mentioned, of introducing a similar contrivance into other branches of knowledge, I shall not take upon me to determine ; but that this idea has at least some plausibility, must, I think, be evident to those, who have reflected on the nature of the general terms which abound more or less in every cultivated lan- guage ; and which may be considered as one species of instrumental aid, which art has discovered to our intellectual powers. From the ob- servations which I am afterwards to make, it will appear, that, without general terms, all our reasonings must necessarily have been limited to particulars ; and, consequently, it is owing to the use of these, that the philosopher is enabled to speculate concerning classes of objects, with the same facility, with which the savage or the peasant speculates con- cerning the individuals of which they are composed. The technical terms, in the different sciences, render the appropriated language of philosophy a still more convenient instrument of thought, than those languages which have originated from popular use ; and in proportion as these technical terms improve in point of precision and comprehen- siveness, they will contribute to render our intellectual progress more certain and more rapid. *' While engaged" (says Mr. Lavoisier) " in " the composition of my Elements of Chemistry,I perceived, better than " I had ever done before, the truth of an observation of Coudillac, that " we think only through the medium of words ; and that languages are <{ true analytical methods. Algebra which, of all our modes of expres- " sion.is the most simple, the most exact, and the best adapted to its lC purpose, is at the same time, a language and an analytical method. " The art of reasoning is nothing more than a language well arranged.'' The influence which these very enlightened and philosophical views have already had on the doctrines of chemistry, cannot fail to be known to most of my readers. The foregoing remarks, in so far as they relate to the possibility of assisting our reasoning and inventive powers by new instrumental aids, may perhaps appear to be founded too much upon theory; but this ob- jection cannot be made to the reasonings I have offered on the impor- tance of the study of method.—To the justness of these, the whole his- tory of science bears testimony, but more especially, the histories of Physics and of pure Geometry : which afford so remarkable an illustra- tion of the general doctrine, as can scarcely fail to be satisfactory, even to those, who are the most disposed to doubt the efficacy of art in di- recting the exertions of genius. With respect to the former, it is sufficient to mention the wonderful effects which the writings of Lord Bacon have produced, in accelera- ting its progress. The philosophers, who flourished before his time, were, undoubtedly, not inferior to their successors, either in genius or industry : but their plan of investigation was erroneous ; and their la- bours have produced only a chaos of fictions and absurdities. The il- lustrations which his works contain, of the method of induction, general as the terms are in which they are expressed, have gradually turned the attention of the moderns to the rules of philosophizing ; and have led vol. I. 5 31 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY; the way to those important and sublime discoveries in physics, which reflect so much honour on the present age. The rules of philosophizing, however, even in physic?, have never yet been laid down with a sufficient degree of precision, minuteness, or me- thod ; nor have they ever been stated and illustrated in so clear and popular a manner, as to render them intelligible to the generality of readers. The truth, perhaps, is, that the greater part of physical in- quirers have derived what knowledge of thetn they possess, rather from an attention to the excellent models of investigation, which the writings of Newton exhibit, than from any of the speculations of Lord Bacon, or his commentators ; and, indeed, such is the incapacity of most people for abstract reasoning, that I am inclined to think, even if the rules of inquiry were delivered in a perfectly complete and unexceptionable form, it might still be expedient to teach them to the majority of stu- dents, rather by examples, than in the form of general principles. But it does not therefore follow, that an attempt to illustrate and to metho- dize these rules would be useless; for it must be remembered, that, al- though an original and inventive genius, like that of Newton, be suffi- cient to establish a standard for the imitation of his age, yet that the genius of Newton himself was encouraged and led by the light of Ba- con's philosophy. The use which the ancient Greek geometers made of their analsyis, affords an additional illustration of the utility of method in guiding sci- entific invention- To facilitate the study of this species of investigation, they wrote no less than thirty-three preparatory books; and they con- sidered address, in the practice of it, (or, as Marinus calls it, a eJvtxfiii a.icti) as of much more value, than an extensive acquaintance with the principles of the science.* Indeed, it is well known to everyone who is at all conversant with geometrical investigations, that although it may be possible for a person, without the assistance of the method of analysis, to stumble accidentally on a solution, or on a demonstration, yet it is impossible for him to possess a just confidence in his own pow- ers, or to carry on a regular plan of invention and discovery. It is well known, too, that an acquaintance with this method brings geometers much more nearly upon a level with each other, than they v/ould be otherwise: not that it is possible, by any rules, to supersede, entirely, ingenuity and address; but because, in consequence of the uniformity of the plan on which the method proceeds, experience communicates a certain dexterity in the use of it, which must in time give to a very ordi- nary degree of sagacity, a superiority, on the whole, to the greatest na- tural ingenuity, unassisted by rule.t * Mttger trri, ro Svitifitv eti»XvTlKtit xTtio-eta-Sxt, rev TrcXXotc. airo- eJet^eti t«» tiri fLifov% t%ttt- f " Matliematica multi sciunt, mathesin pauci. Alliud est enim nosse propo- sitiones aliquot, et nonnullas ex iis obvias elicere, casu potius quam certa aliqua discurrendi norma, aliud scientiae ipsius naturam ac indolem perspec- tam habere, in ejus se adyta penetrare, et ab universalibus instructum esse prae- ceptis, quibus theoremata ac problemata innumera excogitandi, eademque de- monstrandi, facilitas comparetur. Ut enim pictorum vulgus prototypon saepe sa- epius exprimendo, quendam pingendi usum, nullum vero pictoriae arlis quam optica suggerit scientiam adquirit, ita multi, lectis Euclidis et aliorum geometra- rum libr'is, eorum imitatione fingere propositiones aliquas ac demonstrare solent, ipsam tamen segretissimam difficiliorum theorematum ac problcmatum solvendi OF THE HUMAN MIND. 35 To these ©bservations, I believe I may add, that, after all that was done by the Greek philosophers to facilitate mathematical invention, many rules still remain to be suggested, which might be of important use,'even in pure geometry. A variety of such occur to every experi- enced mathematician in the course of his inquiries, although, perhaps, he may not beat the trouble to state them to himself in words; and it would plainly have saved him much expense of time and thought, be- side enabling him to conduct his researches on a more regular plan, if he had been taught them systematically at the commencement of his studies. The more varied, abstruse, and general investigations of the moderns stand in need, in a much greater degree, of the guidance of philosophical principles ; not only for enabling us to conduct, with skill, our particular researches, but for directing us to the different methods of reasoning, to which we ought to have recourse on different occa- sions. A collection of such rules would form, what might be called with propriety, the logic of mathematics ; and would probably contri- bute greatly to the advancement of all of those branches of knowledge, to which mathematical learning is subservient. The observations which have been new made, on the importance of method in conducting physical and mathematical researches, particular- ly those which relate to the last of these subjects, will not apply literal- ly to our inquiries in metaphysics, morals, or politics; because, in these sciences, our reasonings always consist of a comparatively small number of intermediate steps, and the obstacles, which retard our progress, do not, as in mathematics, arise from the difficulty of finding media of com- parison among our ideas. Not that these obstacles are less real, or more easily surmounted; on the contrary, it seems to require a still ra- rer combination of talents to surmount them; for how small is the num- ber of individuals, who are qualified to thiak justly on metaphysical, mo- ral, or political subjects, in comparison of those, who may be trained by practice to follow the longest processes of mathematical reasoning.— From what these obstacles arise, I shall not enquire particularly at pre- sent. Some of the more important of them may be referred to the im- perfections of language ; to the difficulty of annexing precise and stea- dy ideas to our words : to the difficulty, in some cases, of conceiving* the subjects of our reasoning; and, in others, of discovering, and keep- ing in view, all the various circumstances upon which our judgment ought to proceed •, and above all, to the prejudices, which early impres- sions and associations create, to warp our opinions.—To illustrate these sources of error, in the different sciences which are liable to be affect- ed by them, and to point out the most effectual means for guarding against them, would form another very interesting article in a philoso- phical system of logic. The method of communicating to others the principles of the different sciences, has been as much neglected by the writers on logic, as the rules of investigation and discovery, and yet, there is certainly no un- dertaking whatever, in which their assistance is more indispensably re- quisite. The first principles of all the sciences are intimately connected with the philosophy of the human mind ; and it is the province of the logician to state these in such a manner, as to lay a solid foundation for methodum prorsus ignorant."—Joannis de la Faille Theoremata de Centro Gravi- tatis, in praefat.—Antwerpial, 1632. ib ELEMENT> OF THE PHILOSOPHY the superstructures which others are to rear.—Tt is in stating such prin- ciples, accordii gly. that elementary writers are chiefly apt to fail. I low unsatisfactory, tor example, are the introductory chapters io most sys- tems of nntunil philosophy .' not in consequence of any defect of phy- sical or of mathematical knowledge in their authors, but in consequence of a want of attention to the laws of human thought, and to the general rules ofjust reasoning. The same remark may be extended to the form, in which the elementary principles of many of the other sciences are commonly exhibited ; and, if lam not mistaken, this want of order among the first ideas which they present to the mind, is a more powerful obsta- cle to the progress of knowledge, than is generally imagined. I shall only observe farther, with respect to Ihe utility of the philo- sophy of mind, that as there are some arts, in which we not only employ the intellectual faculties as instruments, hut operate on the mind as a subject, so, to those individuals who aim at excellence in such pursuits, the studies I have now been recommending, are, in a more peculiar manner, interesting and important. In poetry, in painting. in eloquence, and in all the other fine arts, our success depends on the skill with which we are able to adapt ihe efforts of our genius to the human frame ; and it is only on a philosophical analysis of the mind, that a solid foundation can be laid for their farther improvement. Man, too, is the subject on which the practical moralist and the enlightened statesman have to operate. Of the former, it is the professed object to engage the attention of individuals to their own best interests, and to al- lure them to virtue and happiness, by every consideration, that can influ- ence the understanding, the imagination, or the heart. To the latter, 2s assigned the sublimer office of seconding the benevolent intentions of Providence in the administration of human affairs; to diffuse as widely and equally as possible, among his fellow« citizens, the advantages of the social union ; and, by a careful study of the constitution of man, and of the circumstances in which he is placed, to modify the political order in such a manner, as may allow free scope and operation to those princi- ples of intellectual and moral improvement, which nature has implant- ed in our species. In all these cases, I am very sensible, that the utility of systematical rules has been called in question by philosophers of note, and that many plausible arguments in support of their opinion may be derived from the small number of individuals who have been regularly trained to eminence in the arts, in comparison of those who have been guided merely by un- tutored genius, and the example of their predecessors. I know, too, that it may be urged with truth, that rules have, in some cases, done more harm than good, and have misled, instead of directing, the natural exertions of the mind. But, in all such instances, in which philosophical principles have failed in producing their intended effect, I will venture to assert, that they have done so, either in consequence of errors, which were accidentally blended with them, or, in consequence of their pos- sessing only that slight and partial influence over the genius, which enabled them to derange its previously acquired habits, without regula- ting its operations,upon a systematical plan, with steadiness and efficjey. In all the arts of life, whether trifling or important, there is a certain degree of skill, which may be attained by our untutored powers, aided by imitation; and this skill, instead of being perfected by rules, may, by OF THE HUMAN MIND. 37 means of them be diminished or destroyed, if these rules are partially and imperfectly apprehended, or even if they are not so familiarized to the understanding, as to influence its exertions uniformly and habitually. In the case of a musical performer, who has learned his art merely by the ear, the first effects of systematical instruction are, I believe, always unfavourable. The effect is the same of the rules of elocution, when first communicated to one who has attained, by his natural taste and good sense, a tolerable propriety in the art of reading. But it does not follow from this, that, in either of these arts, rules are useless. It only follows, that in order to unite ease and grace with correctness, and to preserve the felicities of original genius amidst those restraints which may give them an useful direction, it is necessary that the acquisitions of education should, by long and early habits, be rendered, in s«>ine measure, a second nature—The same observations will be found to ap- ply, with very slight alterations, to arts of more serious importance.—In the art of legislation, for example, there is a certain degree of skill, which may be acquired merely from the routine of business ; and when once a politician has been formed, in this manner, among the details of office, a partial study of general principles will be much more likely to lead him astray, than to enlighten his conduct. But there is neverthe- less a science of legislation, which the details of office and the intrigues of popular assemblies will never communicate ; a science of which the principles must be sought for in the constitution of human nature, and in the general laws which regulate the course of human affairs; and which, if ever in consequence of the progress of reason, philosophy should be enabled to assume that ascendant in the government of the world, which has hitherto been maintained by accident, combined with the passions and caprices of a few leading individuals, may, perhaps, produce more perfect and happy forms of society, than have yet been realized in the history of mankind. I have thus endeavoured to point out and illustrate a few of the most important purposes, to which the philosophy of the human mind is sub- servient. It will not, however, I flatter myself, be supposed by any of my readers, that I mean to attempt a systematical work on all, or any of the subjects I have now mentioned ; the most limited of which would furnish matter for many volumes. What I have aimed at, has been, to give, in the first place, as distinct and complete an analysis as I could, of the principles, both intellectual and active, of our nature ; and, in the second place, to illustrate, as I proceed, the application of these general laws of the human constitution, to the different classes of phenomena which result from them. In the selection of these phenomena, although I have sometimes b» en guided chiefly by the curiosity of the moment, or the accidental course of my own studies, yet, I have had it in view to vary as far as possible the nature of my speculations, in order to show how numerous and different the applications are, of which this philoso- phy issusceptitile. It will not, therefore, I hope, be objected to me, that I have been guilty of a blameable violation of unity in the plan of my work, till it be considered how far such a violation was useful for a:*com- plishing the purposes for which I write. One species of unitv, I am willing to believe, an attentive reader will be able to trace in it; I «aean, that uniformity of thought and design, " which" (as Butler wed re- marks,) " we may always expect to meet with in the compositions of the " same author, when he writes with simplicity, aud in earnest.'*' ^x.aimmia's OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE HUMAN MIND. CHAPTER FIRST. Ot THE POWERS OF EXTERNAL PERCEPTION SECTION J. Of the theories which have been formed by Philosophers, to explain the marina in which the Mind perceives external objects. Among the various phenomena which the human mind presents to our view, there is none more calculated to excite our curiosity and our won- der, than the communication which is carried on between the sentient, thinking, and active principle within us, and the material objects with which we are surrounded. How little soever the bulk of mankind may be disposed to attend to such inquiries, there is scarcely a person to be found, who has not occasionally turned his thoughts to that mysterious influence, which the will possesses over the members of the body, and to those powers of perception, which seem to inform us, by a sort of in- spiration, of the various changes which take place in the external uni- verse. Of those who receive the advantages of a liberal education, there are perhaps few. who pass the period of childhood, without feel- ing their curiosity excited by this incomprehensible communication be- tween mind and matter. For my own part at least, I cannot recollect the date of my earliest speculations on the subject. It is to the phenomena of perception alone, that I am to confine my- self in the following essay; arid even with respect to these, all that I propose, is to offer a few general remarks on such of the common mis- takes concerning them, as may be most likely to mislead us in our fu- ture inquiries. Such of my readers as wish to consider them more in detail, will find ample satisfaction in the writings of Dr. Reid. In considering the phenomena of perception, it is natural to suppose, that the attention of philosophers would be directed, in the first instance, to the sense of seeing. The variety of information and of enjoyment sect, i.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 39 we receive by it, the rapidity with which this information and enjoy- ment are conveyed to us, and above all, the intercourse it enables us to maintain with the more distant part of the universe, cannot fail to give it, even in the apprehension of the most careless observer, a pre-emi- nence overall our other perceptive faculties. Hence, it is, that the va- rious theories, which have been formed to explain the operations of our senses, have a more immediate reference to that of seeino* j and that the greater part of the metaphysical language, concerning perception in general, appears evidently, from its etymology, to have been suggested by the phenomena of vision. Even when applied to this sense, Indeed, it can at most amuse the fancy, without conveying any precise knowl- edge ; but, when applied to the other senses, it is altogether absurd and unintelligible. It would be tedious and useless, to consider particularly the different hypotheses, which have been advanced upon this subject. To all of them, I apprehend, the two following remarks will be found applicable: First, that, in the formation of them, their authors have been influenced by some general maxims of philosophizing, borrowed from physics ; and secondly, that they have been influenced by an indistinct, but deep- rooted, conviction of the immateriality of the soul; which, although not precise enough to point out to them the absurdity of attempting to illustrate its operations by the analogy of matter, was yet sufficiently strong, to induce them to keep the absurdity of their theories as far as possible out of view, by allusions to those physical facts, in which the distinctive properties of matter are the least grossly and palpably expos- ed to our observation. To the former of these circumstances is to be ascribed the general principle, upon which all the known theories of perception proceed ; that, in order to explain the intercourse between the mind and distant objects, it is necessary to suppose the existence of something intermediate, by which its perceptions are produced ; to the latter, the various metaphorical expressions of ideas, species, forms, sha- dows, phantasms, images ; which, while they amused the fancy with some remote analogies to the objects of our senses, did not directly revolt our reason, by presenting to us any of the tangible qualities of body. " It was the doctrine of Aristotle, (says Dr. Reid) that, as our senses "cannot receive external material objects themselves, they receive their " species ; that is, their images or forms, without the matter ; as wax *• receives the form of the seal without any of the matler of it. The " images of forms, impressed upon the senses, are called sensible species : '•' and are the objects only of the sensitive part of the mind ; but by " various, internal powers, they are retained, refined, and spiritualized, •• so as to become objects of memory and imagination ; and, at last, of " pure intellection. When they are objects of memory and of imagina- " tion, they get the name^of phantasms. When, by farther refinement, " and being stripped of their particularities, they become object* of " science, they are called intelligible species ; so that every immediate " object, whether of sense, of memory, of imagination, or of reasoning, <■ must be some phantasm, or species, in the mind itself." <• The followers of Aristotle, especially the schoolmen, made great '■ additions to this theory; which the author himself mentions very ** briefly, and with an appearance of reserve. They entered into large 1U I.LK.MENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. I. * disquisitions with regard to the sensible species, what kind of thing*' "' they are; how they are sent forth by the object, and enter by the *• organs of the senses ; how they are preserved and refined by various " ao-ents, called internal senses, concerning the number and offices of '• which they had many controversies."* The Platonists, too, although they denied the great doctrine of the Peripatetics, that all the objects of human understanding enter at first by the senses, and maintained, that there exist external and immutable ideaf, which were prior to the objects of sense, and about which all seience was employed ; yet appear to have agreed with them in their notions concerning the mode in which external objects are perceived. This Dr. Reid infers, partly from the silence of Aristotle about any dif- ference between himself and his master upon this point, and partly from a passage iu the seventh book of Plato's Republic; in which he compares the process of the mind in perception, to that of a person in a cave, who sees not external objects themselves, but only their shadows.t a Two thousand years after 1'lato, (continues Dr. Reid,) Mr. Locke, " who studied the operations of the human mind so much, and with so •'• great success, represents our manner of perceiving external objects, by " a similitude very much resembling that of the cave—" Methinks," says he, '• the understanding is not much unlike a closet, wholly shut :i from light, with only some little opening left to let in external visible •• resemblances or ideas of things without. Would the pictures coming ■• into such a dark room but stay there, and lie so orderly as to be found •• upon occasion, it would very much resemble the understanding of a " man, in reference to all objects of sight, and the ideas of them.''J " Plato'-* subterranean cave, and Mr. Locke's dark closet, may be '* applied with ease to all the systems of perception, that have been " invented : for they all suppose that we perceive not external objects " immediately, and that the immediate objects of perception are only '• certain shadows of the external objects. Those shadows, or images " which we immediately perceive, were by the ancients called species, "forms, phantasms. Since the time of Des Cartes, they have common- - \y been called ideas ;§ and by Mr- Hume, impressions. But all philo- " sophers, from Plato to Mr. Hume, agree in this, that we do not per- •' ceive external objects immediately ; and that the immediate object of '' perception must be some image present to the mind." On the whole, Dr. Reid remarks, *• that in their sentiments concerning perception there *• appears an uniformity, whichjrarely occurs upon subjects of so abstruse " a nature."|| The very short and imperfect review we have now taken of the com- mon theories of perception, is almost sufficient, without any commenta- ry, to establish the truth of the two general observations formerly made; for they all evidently proceed on a supposition suggested by the pheno- mena of physics, that there must of necessity exist some medium of communication between the objects of perception and the percipient mind, and they all indicate a secret conviction in their authors, of the • Essavs on the Intellectual Powers of Man, p. 25. \ Ibid. p. 99. Locke on Human Understanding, book ii. chap. 11. § 17. > See Note (B.) r RCid, p. 116, 117 sect, ii.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 41 essential distinction between mind and matter ; which, although not rendered, by reflection, sufficiently precise and satisfactory, to shew them the absurdity of attempting to explain the mode of their commu- nication, had yet such a degree of influence on their speculations, as to induce them to exhibit their supposed medium under as mysterious and ambiguous a form as possible, in order that it might remain doubtful, to which of the two predicaments, of body or mind, they meant that it should be referred. By refining away the grosser qualities of matter ; and by allusions to some of the most aerial and magical appearances it assumes, they endeavoured, as it were, to spiritualize the nature of their medium ; while, at the same time, all their language concerning it, im- plied such a reference to matter, as was necessary for furnishing a plau- sible foundation, for applying to it the received maxims of natural philo- sophy. Another observation, too, which was formerly hinted at, is confirmed by the same historical review ; that, in the order of inquiry, the pheno- mena of vision had first engaged the attention of philosophers, and had suggested to them the greater part of their language with respect to perception in general; and that, in consequence of this circumstance, the common modes of expression on the subject, unphilosophical and fanciful at best, even when applied to the sense of seeing, are, in the case of all the other senses, obviously unintelligible and self-contradicto- ry.__« As to objects of sight," says Dr. Reid, " I understand what is " meant by an image of their figure in the brain : but how shall we con- " ceive an image of their colour, where there is absolute darkness ? And, " as to all other objects of sense, except figure and colour, I am unable " to conceive what is meant by an image of them. Let any man say, " what he means by an image of heat and cold, an image of hardness " or softness, an image of sound, or smell, or taste. The word imaget " when applied to these objects of sense, has absolutely no meaning."— This palpable imperfection in the ideal theory, has plainly taken rise from the natural order in which the phenomena of perception present themselves to the curiosity. The mistakes, which have been so long current in the world, about this part of the human constitution, will, I hope, justify me for prosecut- ing the subject a little farther ; in particular, for illustrating, at some length, the first of the two general remarks already referred to. This speculation I enter upon the more willingly, that it affords me an oppor- tunely of stating some important principles with respect to the object and the limits of philosophical inquiry, to which I shall frequently have occasion to refer in the course of the following disquisitions. SECTION II. Of certain natural Prejudices, which seem to have given rise to the common Theo- ries of Perception. It seems now to be pretty generally agreed among philosophers, that there is no instance in which we are able to perceive a necessary con- nexion between two successive events, or to comprehend in what man- ner the one proceeds from the other, as its cause. From experience, VOL. i. 6* •12 I.LI 'MEM'S OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. I- indeed, we learn, that there are many events, which are constantly con- joined, so that the one invariably follows the other : but it is possible, for any thing we know to the contrary, that this connexion, though a constant one, a3 far as our observation has reached, may not be a neces- sary connexion ; nay, it is possible, that there may be no necessary con- nexions among any of the phenomena we see; and if there are any such connexions existing, we may rest assured that we shall never be able to discover them.* I shall endeavour to shew, in another part of this work, that the doc- trine I have now stated does not lead to those sceptical conclusions, concerning the existence of a First Cause, which an author of great ingenuity has attempted to deduce from it—At present, it is sufficient for my purpose to remark, that the word cause is used, both by philoso- phers and the vulgar, in two senses, which are widely different___When it is said, that every change in nature indicates the operation of a cause the word cause expresses something which is supposed to be necessarily connected with the change, and without which it could not have hap- pened. This may be called the metaphysical meaning of the word ; and such causes may be called metaphysical or efficient causes.—In natural philosophy, however, when *we speak of one thing being the cause of another, all that we mean is, that the two are constantly conjoined, so that, when we see the one, we may expect the other. These conjunc- tions we learn from experience alone, and, without an acquaintance with them, we could not accommodate our conduct to the established course of nature.—The causes which are the objects of our investigation in natural philosophy, may, for the sake of distinction, be called physical causes. t I am very ready to acknowledge, that this doctrine, concerning the object of natural philosophy, is not altogether agreeable to popular pre- judices. When a man, unaccustomed to metaphysical speculations, is told, for the first time, that the science of physics gives us no informa- tion concerning the efficient causes of the phenomena about which it is employed, he feels some degree of surprise and mortification. The na- tural bias of the mind is surely to conceive physical events as somehow linked together, and material substances as possessed of certain powers and virtues, which fit them to produce particular effects. That we have no reason to believe this to be the case, has been shewn in a very satis- factory manner by Mr. Hume, and by other writers, and must, indeed, appear evident to every person, on a moments reflection. It is a curi- ous question, what gives rise to the prejudice ? In stating the argument for the existence of the Deity, several mo- dern philosophers have been at pains to illustrate that law of our nature, which leads us to refer every change we perceive in the universe, to the operation of an efficient cause +—This reference is not the result of reasoning, but necessarily accompanies the perception, so as to render it impossible for us to see the change, without feeling a conviction of the operation of some cause by which it was produced ; much in the same manner, in which we find it to be impossible to conceive a sensa- tion, without being impressed with a belief of the existence of a sentient * See Note (C.) \ See in particular, D. Reid's Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man. sect, il] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 43 being. Hence, I apprehend, it is, that when we see two events con- stantly conjoined, we are led to associate the idea of causation, or effi- ciency, with the former, and to refer to it that power or energy by which the change was produced ; in consequence of which association, we come to consider philosophy as the knowledge of efficient causes, and lose sight of the operation of mind in producing the phenomena of nature.—It is by an association somewhat similar, that we coRnect our sensations of colour with the primary qualities of body. A moments reflection must satisfy any one, that the sensation of colour can only re- side in the mind ; and yet our natural bias is surely to connect colour with extension and figure, and to conceive white, blue, and yellow, as something spread over the surface of bodies. In the same way, we are led to associate with inanimate matter the ideas of power, force, ener- gy, and causation, which are all attributes of mind, and can exist in mind only. This bias of our nature is strengthened by another association. Our language, with respect to cause and effect, is borrowed by analogy from material objects. Some of these we see scattered about us, without any connexion between them, so that one of them may be removed from its place, without disturbing the rest We can, however, by means of some material vinculum, connect two or more objects together ; so that whenever the one is moved, the others shall follow. In like man- ner we see some events, which occasionally follow one another, and which are occasionally disjoined : we see others, where the succession is constant and invariable. The former we conceive to be analogous to objects which are loose, and unconnected with each other, and whose contiguity in place, is owing merely to accidental position ; the others to objects, which are tied together by a material vinculum. Hence we transfer to such events, the same language which w,? apply to connected objects. We speak of a connexion between two events, and of a chain of causes and effects.* That this language is merely analogical, and that we know nothing of physical events, but the laws which regulate their succession, must, I think, appear very obvious to every person who takes the trouble to reflect on the subject; and yet it is certain, that it has misled the great- er part of philosophers, and has had a surprising influence on the sys- tems, which they have formed in very different departments of science. A few remarks on some of the mistaken conclusions, to which the vulgar notions concerning the connexions among physical events have given rise, in natural philosophy, will illustrate clearly the origin of the common theories of perception ; and will, at the same time, satisfy the reader, with respect to the train of thought which suggested the foregoing observations. The maxim, that nothing can act but where it is, and when it is, has always been admitted, with respect to metaphysical or efficient causes. « Whatever objects," says Mr. Hume, " are considered as causes or ef- " fects, are contiguous ; and nothing can operate in a lime or place, " which is ever so little removed from those of its existence.'' " We * See Note (D), u ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY chip. I " may therefore (he adds) consider the relation of contiguity as es« " sential to that of causation."—But although this maxim should be ad- mitted, with respect to causes which are efficient, and which as such, are necessarily connected with their effects, there is surely no good rea- son for extending it to physical causes, of which we know nothing, but that they are the constant forerunners and signs of certain natural events. It may, indeed, be improper, according to this doctrine, to re- tain the expressions, cause and tffect, in natural philosophy ; but, as long as the present language upon the subject continues in use, the propriety of its application, in any particular instance, does not depend on the contiguity of the two events in place or time, but solely on this question, whether the one event be the constant and invariable forerunner of the other, so that it may be considered as its infallible sign ?—Notwithstand- ing, however, the evidence of this conclusion, philosophers have in gene- ral proceeded upon a contrary supposition; and have discovered an un- willingness, even in physics, to call one event the cause of another, if the smallest interval of space or time existed between them. In the case of motion, communicated by impulse, they have no scruple to call the impulse the cause of the motion ; but they will not admit that one body can be the cause of motion in another, placed at a distance from it, unless a connexion is carried on between them, by means of some in- tervening medium. It is unnecessary for me, after what has already'been said, to em- ploy any arguments to prove, that the communication of motion by im- pulse is as unaccountable, as any other phenomenon in nature. Those philosophers who have attended at all to the subject, even they who have been the least sceptical with respect to cause and effect, and who have admitted a necessary connexion among physical events, have been forced to acknowledge, that they could not discover any necessa- ry connexion between impulse and motion. Hence, some of them have been led to conclude, that the impulse only rouses the activity of the body, and that the subsequent motion is the effect of this activity con- stantly exerted. " Motion," says one writer, " is action ; and a con- " tinued motion implies a continued action." " The impulse is only the " cause of the beginning ofthemoiion ;itscontinuance must be the effect " of some other cause, which continues to act as long as the body con- " tinues to move." The attempt which another writer of great learn- ing has made, to revive the ancient theory of mind, has arisen from a similar view of the subject before us. He could discover no necessary connexion between impulse and motion ; and concluded, that the im- pulse was only the occasion of the motion, the beginning and continu- ance of which he ascribed to the continued agency of the mind with which the body is animated. Although, however, i* be obvious, on a moments consideration, that we are as ignorant of the connexion between impulse and motion, as of the connexion between fire and any of the effects we see it produce, philosophers, in every age, seem to have considered the production of motion by impulse, as almost the only physical fact which stood in need of no explanation. When we see one body attract another at a dis- tance, our curiosity is roused, and we enquire how the connexion is car- ried on between them. But when we see a body begin to move in con- sequence of an impulse which another has given it, we inquire no far- sect, il] OF THE HUMAN MIND L5 ther : on the contrary, we think a fact sufficiently accounted for, if it can be shewn to be a case of impulse. This distinction, between mo- tion produced by impulse, and the other phenomena of nature, we are led, in a great measure, to make, by coofounding together efficient and physical causes; and by applying to the latter, maxims which have properly a reference only to the former.—Another circumstance, like- wise, has probably considerable influence: that, as it is by m ;ans of im- pulse alone, that we ourselves have a power of moving external objects, this fact is more familiar to us from our infancy than any other, and strikes us as a fact which is necessary, and which could not have hap- pened otherwise. Some writers have even gone so far as to pretend that, although the experiment had never been made, the communica- tion of motion by impulse, might have been predicted by reasoning a priori.* Prbm the following passage, in one of Sir Isaac Newton's letters to Dr. oenlley, it appears that he supposed the communication of motion by impulse, to be a phenomenon much more explicable, than that a con- nexion should subsist between two bodies placed at a distance from each other, without any intervening medium " It is inconceivable," says he, "that inanimate brute matter should, without the mediation of " something else which is not material, operate upon, and efff ct other "matter, without mutual contact; as it must do, if gravitation, in the " sense of Epicurus, be essential and inherent in it. And this is one "reason why I desired that you would not ascribe innate gravity to me. " That gravity should be innate, inherent, and essential to matter, so " that one body may act on another, through a vacuum, without the " mediation of any thing else, by and through which their action and " force may be conveyed from one to another, is to me so great an ab- surdity, that I believe no man who has, in philosophical matters, a " competent faculty of thinking, can ever fall into it." With this passage I so far agree, as to allow that it is impossible to conceive in what manner one body acts on another at a distance, through a vacuum. But I cannot admit that it removes the difficulty to suppose, that the two bodies are in actual contact. That one body may be the efficient cause of the motion of another body placed at a distance from it, I do by no means assert; but only, that we have as good reason to believe that this may be possible, as to believe that any one natural event is the efficient cause of another. I have been led into this very long disquisition concerning efficient and physical causes, in order topointout the origin of the common theo- ries of perception ; all of which appear to me to have taken rise from the same prejudice, which 1 have already remarked to have had so ex- tensive an influence upon the speculations of natural philosophers. That in the case of the perception of distant objects, we are naturally inclined to suspect, either something to be emitted from the object to the organ of sense, or some medium to intervene between the obje-t and organ, by means of which the former may communicate an impulse to the latter, appears from the common modes of expression on the subject, which arc to be found in all languages. In our own, for example, we frequently hear the vulgar speak, of light striking the eye, not in conse- quence of any philosophical theory they have been taught, but of their * See an Answer to Lord Kaim's Essay on Motion; by John Stewart, M. D. 46 elements of the philosophy [chap, i, own crude and undirected speculations. Perhaps there are few men among those who have attended at all to the history of their own thoughts, who will not recollect the influence of these ideas, at a period of life long prior to the date of their philosophical studies. Nothing, indeed, can be conceived more simple and natural than their origin. When an object is placed in a certain situation with respect to a particu- lar organ of the body, a perception arises in the mind; when the object is removed, the perception c«ases.* Hence we are led to apprehend some connexion between the object and the perception ; and as we are accustomed to believe, that matter produces its effects by impulse, we conclude that there must be some material medium intervening between the object and organ, by means of which the impulse is communicated from the one to the other. That this is really the case, I do not mean to dispute. I think, however, it is evident, that the existence of such a medi- um does not in any case appear a priori; and yet the natural prejtdices of men have given rise to an universal belief of it, long before they were able to produce any good arguments in support of their opinion. Nor is it only to account for the connexion between the object and the organ of sense, that philosophers have had recourse to the theory of impulse. They have imagined, that the impression on the organ of sense is communicated to the mind in a similar manner. As one body produces a change in the state of another by impulse, so it has been supposed, that the external object produces perception, (which is a change in a state of the mind,) first, by some material impression made on the organ of sense; and, secondly, by some material impression com- municated from the organ to the mind along the nerves and brain. These suppositions, indeed, as I had occasion already to hint, were, in the ancient theories of perception, rather implied than expressed ; but by modern philosophers, they have been stated in the form of explicit propositions. " As to the manner," says Mr. Locke, " in which bodies " produce ideas in us, it is manifestly by impulse, the only way which " we can conceive bodies operate in."t And Sir Isaac Newton, al- though he does not speak of an impulse made on the mind, plainly pro- ceeded on the principle that, as matter can only move matter by im- pulse, so no connexion could be carried on between matter and mind, unless the mind were present (as he expresses it) to the matter from which the last impression is communicated. " Is not," (says he) " the " sensoriura of animals, the place where the sentient substance is pre- " sent; and to which the sensible species of things are brought, through '* the nerves and brain, that there they may be perceived by the mind " present in that place ?" Dr. Clarke has expressed the same idea still more confidently, in the following passage of one of his letters to Lieb- * Turn porro varios rerum sentimus odores, Nee tameti ad nareis venienteis cernimus unquam : Xec calidos aestus tuimur, nee frigora quimus Usurpare oculis, nee voces cernere suemus ; Quae tamen omnia corporea constare necesse 'st Natura • quoniam sensus impellere possunt. Lccebt. lib. i. p. 29f. j Essay on Human Understanding, book ii. chap. viii. §11. Sect. II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 47 nitz—" Without being present* to the images of the things perceived, " the soul could not possibly perceive them. A living substance l< can only there perceive, where it is present. Nothing can any more " act, or be acted upon where it is not present than it can when it is not." " How body acts upon mind, or mind upon body," (says Dr. Porter- " field,t) " I know not; but this I am very certain of, that nothing can " act, or be acted upon, where it is not; and therefore, our mind can " never perceive any thing but its own proper modifications, and the " various states of the sensorium, to which it is present : so that it is " not the external sun and moon, which are in the heavens, which our tf mind perceives, but only their image or representation, impressed up- " on the sensorium. How the soul of a seeing man sees these images, f' or how it receives those ideas, from such agitations in the sensorium, " I know not; but I am sure it can never perceive the external bodies (< themselves, to which it is not present. J'The same train of thinking, which had led these philosophers to suppose, that external objects are perceived by means of species pro- ceeding from the object to the mind, or by means of some material im- pression made on the mind by the brain, has suggested to a late wri- ter a very different theory ; that the mind, when it perceives an exter- nal object, quits the body, and is present to the object of perception." " The mind," (says the learned author of Ancient Metaphysics,) " is "■not where the body is, when it perceives what is distant from thebo- " dy, either in time or place ; because nothing can act, but when, and " where, it is. Now, the mind acts when it perceives. The mind, " therefore, of every animal who has memory or imagination, acts, C( and by consequence exists, when and where the body is not; for it per- " ceives objects distant from the body both in time and place,"§ In- * This phrase of " the soul being- present to the images of external objects," has been used by many philosophers, since the time of Des Cartes ; evidently from a desire to avoid the absurdity of supposing, that images of extension and figure can exist in an unextended mind. " Quaeris," (says Descartes himself, in replying to the objects of one of his antagonists) " quomodo existimem in me subjecto inextenso recipi posse speciem, " ideamve corporis quod extensum est. Respondeo, nullam speciem corpoream " in mente recipi, sed puram intellectionem tarn rei corporeae quam incorporeae "• fieri absque ulla specie corporea j ad imaginationem vero, quae non nisi de rebus " corporeis esse potest, opus quidem esse specie quae sit verum corpus, et ad quam " mens se applicet, sed non quae in mente recipiatur."—It appears, therefore, that this philosopher supposed his images, or ideas, to exist in the brain, and not in the mind. Mr. Locke's expressions sometimes imply the one supposition, and some- times the other. * f See his Treatise on the Eye, vol. ii. p. 356. i " The slightest philosophy" (says Mr. Hume) " teaches us, that nothing can '• ever be present to the mind, but an image, or perception ; and that the senses 14 are only the inlets through which these images are conveyed j without being " able to produce any immediate intercourse between the mind and the object. " The table, which we see, seems to diminish, as we remove farther from it: but " the real table, which exists independent of us, suffers no alteration : it was, " therefore, nothing but its image which was present to the mind. These (he '• adds) are the obvious dictates of reason." Essay on the Academical or Sceptical Philosophy. § Anc. Met. vol. ii. p. 306. 18 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. L deed, if we take for granted, that in perception the mind acts upon the objpct, or the object upon the mind, and, at the same time, admit the truth of the maxim, that " nothing can ait but where it is," we must, of necessity, conclude, either that objects are perceived in a way simi- lar to what is supposed in the ideal theory, or that, in every act of per- ception, the soul quits the body, and is present to the object perceived. And accordingly, this alternative is expressly stated by Malebranche ; who differs, however, from the writer last quoted in the choice which he makes of his hypothesis, and even rests his proof of its truth on the improbability of the other opinion. " I suppose," says he, '*■ that every " one will grant, that we perceive not external objects immediately, " and of themselves. We see the sun, the stars, and an infinity of ob- " jecte without us ; and it is not at all likely that, upon such occasions, " the soul sallies out of the body, in order to be present to the objects " perceived. She sees them not therefore by themselves : and tlite im- " mediate object of the mind is not the thing perceived, but something (< which is intimately united to the soul ; and it is that which I call an " idea : so that by the word idea, I understand nothing else here but lt that which is nearest to the mind when we perceive any object.—It " ought to be carefully observed, that, in order to the mind's perceiving " any object, it is absolutely necessary that the idea of that object be " actually present to it. Of thi3 it is not possible to doubt. The " things which the soul perceives are of two kinds. They are either " in the soul, or they are without the soul. Those that are in the soul, " are its own thoughts ; that is to say, all its different modifications. "The soul has no need of ideas for perceiving these things. But with " regard to things without the soul, we cannot perceive them but by " means of ideas." To these quotations, I shall add another, which contains the opinion of Buffon upon the subject. As 1 do not understand it so completely, as to be able to translate it in a manner intelligible to myself, I shall transcribe it in the words of the author. " L'ame s'unii intimement a tel objet qu'il lui pl&it, la distance, la " grandeur, la figure, rien ne peut nuire a cette union lorsque l'ame la " vent: elle se fait et se fait en un instant .... la volonte n'est elle " done qu'un mouvement corporel, et la contemplation un simple at- " touchement ? Comment cet attouchement pourroit il se faire sur un " objet eloigne, sur un sujet abstrait ? Comment pourroit il s'operer en " un instant indivisible? A-t-ou jamais concu du mouvement, sans qu'il " y eut de l'espace et du terns ? La volonte, si e'est un mouvement, " n'est done pas un mouvement materiel, et si l'union de l'ame a son '' objet est un attouchement, un contact, cet attouchement ne se fait il " pas au loin ? ce contact n'est il pas une penetration ?" All these theories appear to me to have taken rise, first, from an in- attention to the proper object of philosophy, and an application of the same general maxims to physical and to efficient causes ; and secondly, from an apprehension, that we understand the connexion between im- pulse and motion, better than any other physical fact. From the detail which I have given, it appears how extensive an influence this preju- dice has had on the inquiries both of natural philosophers and of meta- physicians. In the foregoing reasonings, I have taken for granted, that motion ■sect, in.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 49 may be produced by impulse ; and have contented myself with assert- ing, that this fact is not more explicable, than the motions which the Newtonians refer to gravitation ; or tnan the intercourse which is car- ried on between the mind and external objects in the rase of perception. The truth, however, is, that some of the ablest philosophers in Europe are now satisfied, not only that there is no evidence of motion being in any case produced by the actual contact of two bodies : but that very strong proofs may be given of the absolute impossibility of such a sup- position ; and hence they have been led to conclude, that all the effects, which are commonly referred, to impulse, arise from a power of repul- sion, extending to a small and imperceptible distance round every ele- mentof matter. If this doctrine shall be confirmed by future speculations in physics, it must appear to be a curious circumstance in the history of science, that philosophers have been so long occupied in attempting to trace all the phenomena of matter, and even some of the phenomena of mind", to a general fact, which, upon an accurate examination, is found to have no existence.—I do not make this observation with a view to de- preciate the labours of these philosophers : for, although the system of Boscovich were completely established, it would not diminish in the smallest degree, the value of those physical inquiries, which have pro- ceeded on the common hypothesis, with respect to impulse. The laws which regulate the communication of motion, in the ease of apparent contact, are the most general facts we observe among the terrestrial phenomena ; and they are, of all physical events, those which are the most familiar to us from our earliest infancy. It was therefore not only natural but proper, that philosophers should begin their physical inqui- ries, with attempting to refer to these, (which are the most general laws of nature, exposed to the examination of our senses,) the particular ap- pearances they wished to explain. And if ever the theory of Boscoviah should be completely established, it will have no o'her effect, than to resolve these laws into some principle still more general, without effect- ing the solidity of the common doctrine, so far as it goes. SECTION III. Of Dr. Reid's Speculations on the Subject of Perception. It was chiefly in consequence of the sceptical conclusions which Bish- op Berkeley and Mr Hume had deduced from the ancient theories of perception, that Dr. Reid was led to call them in question ; and he ap- pears to me to have shewn, in the most satisfactory manner not only that they are perfectly hypothetical, but that the suppositions, they in- volve, are absurd and impossible. His reasonings, on this part if cur constitution, ucdoubtedly form the most important accession which the philosophy of the human miid has received since the time of Mr Locke. But although Dr. Reid has been at much pains to everturn the old ideal system, he has not ventured to -ubstitute any hypothesis of his own in its place. And, indeed, he was too well acquainted with the limits prescribed to our phiiosophica inquiries, to think of indulging his curiosity in such unprofitable speculations. All, therefore that he is to be understood as aiming at, in his inquiries concerning our perceptive VOL. i. 7 59 ELEMENTS OF THK PHILOSOPHY [chap. 1. powers, is, to give a precise state of the fact, divested of all theoretical expressions ;in order to prevent philosophers from imposing on them- selves any longer, by words without meaning, and to extort from them an acknowledgment, that, with respect to the process of nature in per- ception, they are no less ignorant than the vulgar. According to this view of Dr. Reid's reasonings on the subject of per- ception, the purpose to which they are subservient may appear to some to be of no very considerable importance ; but the truth is, that one of the most valuable effects of genuine philosophy, is to remind us of the limit- ed powers of the human understanding, and to revive those natural feel- ings of wonder and admiration at the spectacle of the universe, which are apt to languish in consequence of long familiarity. The most pro- found discoveries which are placed within the reach of our researches lead to a confession of human ignorance ; for, while they flatter the pride of man, and increase his power by enabling him to trace the simple and beautiful laws by which physical events are regulated, they call his attention, at the same time, to those general and ultimate facts which bound the narrow circle of his knowledge ; and which, by evinc- ing to him the operation of powers, whose nature must for ever remain unknown, serve to remind him of the insufficiency of his faculties to penetrate the secrets of the universe. Wherever we direct our inquiries; whether to the anatomy and physiology of animals, to the growth of vegetables, to the chemical attractions and repulsions, or the motions of the heavenly bodies, we perpetually perceive the effects of powers which cannot belong to matter. To a certain length we are able to pro- ceed ; but in every research, we meet with aline, which no industry nor ingenuity can pass It is a line too, which is marked with sufficient distinctness, and which no man now thinks of passing, who has just views of the nature and object of philosophy. It forms the separation between Ihsn field*which falls under the survey of the physical inquirer, and that unknown region, of which, though it was necessary that we should be assured of the existence, in order to lay a foundation for the doctrines of natural theology, it hath not pleased the Author of the uni- verse to reveal to us the wonders, in this infant state of our being. It was, in fact, chiefly by tracing out this line, that Lord Bacon did so much service tos/ieuce. Besides this effect, which is common to all our philosophical pursuits of impressing the mind with a sense of that mysterious agency, or effi- ciency, into which general laws must be resolved, they have a tenden- cy, in many cases, to counteract the influence of habit, in weakening thoseeiiiotiunsof wonder and of curiosity, which the appearances of nature are so admirably fitted to excite. For this purpose, it is necessa- ry, either to lead the attention to facts which are calculated to strike by their novelty, or to present familiar appearances in a new light; and such are the obvious effects of philosophical inquiries ; sometimes ex- tending o'ir views to objects which are removed from vulgar observa- tion, and sometimes correcting our first apprehensions with respect to ordinary events.—The communication of motion by impulse, (as I al- ready hinted,) is as unaccountable as any phenomenon we know ; and yet, most men are disposed to consider it as a fact which does not re- sult from will, but from necessity. To such men, it may be useful to di- rect their attention to the universal law of gravitation ; which, although Sect. III.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 51 not more wonderful in itself, than the common effects of impulse is more fitted, by its novelty, to awaken their attention, and to excite their curiosity. If the theory of Boscovich should ever be established on a satisfactory foundation, it would have this tendency in a still more remarkable degree, by teaching us that the communication of motion by impulse, (which we are apt to consider as a necessary truth,) has no existence whatever ; and that every case in which it appears to our senses to take place, is a phenomenon no less inexplicable, than that principle of attraction which binds together the most remote parts of the universe. If such, however, be the effects of our philosophical pursuits when successfully conducted, it must be confessed that the tendency of imper- fect or erroneous theories is widely different. By a specious solution of insuperable difficulties, they so dazzle and bewilder the understanding, as, at once, to prevent us from advancing, with steadiness, towards the limit of human knowledge, and from perceiving the existence of a re- gion beyond it, into which philosophy is not permitted to enter In such ca^es, it is the business of genuine science to unmask the imposture, and to point out clearly both to the learned and to the vulgar, what reason can, and what she cannot, accomplish. This, I apprehend, has been done, with respect to the history of our perceptions, in the most satisfactory manner, by Dr. Reid.—When a person little accustomed to metaphysical speculations is told, that, in the case of volition, there are certain invis ble fluids, propagated from the mind to the organ which is moved ; and that, in the case of perception, the existence and qualities of the external object are made known to us by means of species, or phantasms, or images, which are present to the mind in the sensorium ; he is apt to conclude that the intercourse between mind and matter is much less mysterious than he had supposed; and that, although these expressions may not convey to him any very distinct meaning, their im- port is perfectly understood by philosophers. It is now, I think pretty generally acknowledged by physiologists, that the influence of the will over the body, is a mystery which has never yet been unfolded ; but singular as it may appear, Dr. Reid was the first person who had cour- age to lay completely aside all the common hypothetical language con- cerning perception, and to exhibit the difficulty in all its magnitude, by a plain statement of the fact. To what then, H may be asked, doe- this statement amount?—Merely to this ; that the mind is so formed, that certain impressions produced on our organs of sense by external objects are followed by correspondent sensations ; and that these sensations, (which have no more resemblance to the qualities of matter, than the words of a language have to the things they denote,) are followed by a perception of the existence and qualities of the bodies by which the im- pressions are made ; that all the steps of this process are equally incom- prehensible; and that, for any thing we can prove to the contrary, the connexion between the sensation and the perception, as well as that be- tween the impression and the sensation, may be both arbitrary ; that it is therefore by no means impossible, that our sensations may be merely the occasions on which the correspondent perceptinos are excited; and that, at any rate, the consideration of these sensations, which are attri- butes of mind can throw no light on the manner in which we acquire eur knowledge of the existence and qualities of body. From this view 52 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY chip. I. of the subject, it follows, that it is external objects themselves, and not any species or images of these objects, that the mind perceives ; and that although, by the constitution of our nature, certain sensations are rendered the constant antecedents of our perceptions, it is just as d.ffi- cult to explain how our perceptions are obtained by their means, as it would be, upon the supposition, that the mind were all at once inspired with them, without any concomitant sensations whatever. These remarks are general, and apply to all our various perceptions; and they evidently strike at the root of all the common theories upon the subject. The laws, however, which regulate these perception-, are different in the case of the different senses, and form a very curious ob- ject of philosophical inquiry.—Those, in particular, which regulate the acquired perceptions of sight, lead to some very interesting and import- ant speculations ; and, I think, have never yet been explained in a man- ner completely satisfactory. To treat of them in detail, does not fall under the plan of this work ; but I shall have occasion to make a few remarks on them, in the chapter on Conception. In opposition to what I have here observed on the importance of Dr. Reid's speculations con' erning our perceptive powers, I am sensible it mav be urged, that they amount merely to a negative discovery ; and it is possible, that some may even be forward to remark, that it was un- necessary to employ so much labour and ingenuity as he has done to overthrow an hvpothesisof which a plain account would have been a sufficient refutation—To such persons I would beg leave to suggest that although, in consequence of the jitter views in pneumatology, which now begin to prevail, (chiefly, I believe in consequence of Dr. Reid's writine-s,'*' the ideal svstem may appear to many readers unphi- losophical and puerile : vet theease was very different when this author entered upon his inquiries : and I may even venture to add, that few positive discoveries, in the whole history of science, can be mentioned, which" found a juster claim to literary reputation, than to have detect- ed, so clearly and unanswerably, the fallacy of an hypothesis, which has descended to us from the earliest ages of philosophy ; and which, in modern times, has not only served to Berkeley and Hume as the basis of their sceptical systems, but was adopted as an indisputable truth by Locke, by Clarke, and by Newton. SECTION IV. Of the Origin of our Knowledge. The philosophers who endeavour to explain the operations of the human mil d hy the theory of ideas, and who took for granted, that in every exertion ..f thought there exist"- in the mind some object distinct from the thieking substance, were naturally led to inquire whence these ideas derive their origin ; in particular, whether they are conveyed to the tvind from without by means of the senses, or form part of its ori- ginal furniture ? With respect to this question, the opinions of the ancients were vari- ous ; but as the iofluence of thpse opinions on the prevailing systems of the present age is not very considerable, it is not necessary, for any of sect, iv.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 53 the purposes I have in view in this work, to consider them particularly. The moderns too, have been much divided on the subject; some hold- ing with Des Caries, that the mind is furnished with certain innate ideas ; others, with Mr. Locke, that all our ideas may be traced from sensation and reflection ; and many, (especially among the later me- taphysicians in France,) that they may be all traced from sensation alone. Of these theories, that of Mr. Locke deserves more particularly our attention ; as it has served as the basis of most of the metaphysical sys- tems which have appeared since his time ; and as the difference be- tween it and the theory which derives all our ideas from sensation alone, is rather apparent than real. In order to convey a just notion of Mr. Locke's doctrine concerning the origin of our ideas, it is necessary to remark, that he refers to sen- sation allthe ideas, which we are supposed to receive by the external senses, our ideas, for example, of colours, of sounds, of hardness, of extension, of motion, and in short, of all the qualities anduiodesof matter; to reflection, the ideas of our own mental operations, whi< h we derive from consciousness ; our ideas, for example, of memory, of imagination, of volition, of pleasure, and of pain. These two sources, according to him, furnish us with all our simple ideas, and the only power which the mind possesses over them, is to perform certain ope- rations, in the way of composition, abstraction, generalization, &c. on the materials which it thus collects in the course of its experience.— The laudable desire of Mr. Locke, to introduce precision and perspicu- ity into metaphysical speculations, and his anxiety to guard the mind against error in general, naturally prepossessed him in favour of a doc- trine, which, when compared with those of his predecessors, was intel- ligible and simple, and which, by suggesting a method, apparently easy and palpable, of analyzing our knowledge into its elementary princi- ples, seemed to furnish an antidote against those prejudices which had been favoured by the hypothesis of innate ideas. It is now a conside- rable time since this fundamental principle of Mr; Locke's system began to lose its authority in England ; and the scepticalconciusious, which it had been employed to support by some later writers, furnished its oppo- nents with very plausible arguments against it. The late learned Mr. Harris, in particular, frequently mentions this doctrine of Mr. Locke, and always in terms of high indignation " Mark," (says he, in one passage,) " the order of things, according to the account of our late " metaphysicians. First, comes that huge body, the sensible woild.— " Then this, and its attributes, beget sensible ideas. Then, out of sensi- " ble ideas, by a kind of lopping and pruning, are made ideas intelligi- " ble, whether specific or general. Thus, should they admit that mind " was coeval with body; yet till body gave it ideas, and awakened its " dormant powers, it could at best have been nothing more than a sort " of dead capacity ; for innate ideas it could not possibly have any." And, in another passage : " For my own part, when I read the detail " about sensation and reflection, and am taught the process at large " how my ideas are all generated, I seem to view the human soul in the " light of a crucible, where truths are produced by a kind of logical " chemistry." u ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. I. If Dr Reid's reasonings on the subject of ideas be admitted, all these speculations with respect to their origin fall to the ground, and the question to which they relate, is reduced merely to a question of fact, concerning the occasions on which the mind is first led to form those simple notions, into which our thoughts may be analyzed, and which may be considered as the principles or elements of human knowledge. With respect to many of these notions, this inquiry involves no difficul- ty. No one, for example, can be at a loss to ascertain the occasions on which the notions of colours and sounds are fir-t formed by the mind : for these notions are confined to individuals who are possessed of particular senses, and cannot, by any combination of words, be conveyed to those who never enjoyed the use of them. The history of our notions of ex- tension and figure, (which may be suggested to the mind hy the exer- cise either of sight or of touch,) is, not altogether so obvious; and ac- cordingly, it has been the subject of various controversies. To trace the origin of these, and of our other simple notions with respect to the qualities of matter, or, in other words to describe the occasions on which, by the laws of our nature, they are suggested to the mind, is one of the leading objects of Dr. Reid's inquiry, in his analysis of our external senses ; in which he carefully avoids every hypothesis with respect to the inexplicable phenomena of perception and of thought, and confines himself scrupulously to a literal statement of facts—Similar inquiries to these may be proposed, concerning the occasions on which we form the notions of time, of motion, of number, of causation, and an infinite variety of others. Thus, it has been observed by different au- thors, that every perception of change suggests to the mind the notion of a cause, without which that change could not have happened. Dr. Reid remarks, that, without the faculty of memory, our perceptive powers could never have led us to form the idea of motion. I shall afterwards shew, in the sequel of this work, that without the same faculty of memory, we never could have formed the notion of time ; and that without the faculty of abstraction, We could not have formed the notion of number. Such inquiries, with respect to the origin of our knowledge, are curious and important, and if conducted with judgment, they may lead to the most certain conclusions; as they aim at nothing more than to ascertain facts, which although not obvious to superficial observers, may yet be discovered by patient investigation. From the remarks which have been just made on our notions of time, of motion, and of number, it is evident that the inquiry concerning the origin of human knowledge cannot possibly be discussed at the com- mencement of such a work as this; but that it must be resumed in dif- ferent parts of it, as those faculties of the mind come under our view, with which the formation of our different simple notions is connected- With respect to the general question, Whether all our knowledge may be ultimately traced from our sensations ? I shall only observe at present, that the opinion we form concerning it is of much less conse- quence than is commonly supposed. That the mind cannot, without the grossest absurdity, be considered in the light of a receptacle which is gradually furnished from without, by materials introduced by the channel of the senses, nor in that of a tabula rasa upon which copies or resemblances of things external are imprinted, I have already shewn at sufficient length. Although, therefore, we should acquiesoe in the Sect. IV.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 55 conclusion, that, without our organs of sense, the mind must have re- mained destitute of knowledge, this concession could have no tendency whatever to favour the principles of materialism ; as it implies nothing more, than that the impressions, made on our senses by external objects, furnish the occasions, on which the mind, by the laws of its constitution, is led to per eive the qualities of the material world, and to exert all the different modifications of thought of which it is capable. From the very slight view of the subject, however, which has been already given, it is sufficiently evident, that this doctrine, which refers the origin of all our knowledge to the occasions furnished by sense, must be received with many limitations. That those ideas, which Mr. Locke calls ideas of reflection, (or, in other words, the notions which we form of the subjcets of our own consciousness,) are not suggested to the mind immediately by the sensations arising from the use of our organs of perception, is granted on all hands: and, therefore, the amount of the doctr.ne now mentioned, is nothing more than this ; that the first occasions on which our various intellectual faculties are exercised, are furnished by the impressions made on our organs of sense, and conse- quently, that, without these impressions, it would have been impossible for us to arrive at the knowledge of our faculties. Agreeably to this explanation of the doctrine, it may undoubtedly be said with plausibili- ty, (and, I am inclined to believe, with truth,) that the occasions on which all our notions are formed, are furnished either immediately or ultimately by sense; but, if I am not much mistaken, this is not the meaning which is commonly annexed to the doctrine, either by its ad- vocates or their opponents. One thing at least is obvious, that, in this sense, it does not lead to those consequences which have interested one party of philosophers in its defence, and another in its refutation. There is another very important consideration which deserves our at- tention in this argument: that, even on the supposition, that certain impressions on our organs of sense are necessary to awaken the mind to a consciousness of its own existence, and to give rise to the exercise of its various faculties, yet all this might have happened, without our having any knowledge of the qualities, or even of the existence, of the material world. To facilitate the admission of this proposition, let us suppose a being formed in every other respect like man, but possessed of no senses, excepting those of hearing and smelling. I make choice of these two senses, because it is obvious, that by meaii3 of them alone we never could have arrived at the knowledge of the primary qualities of matter, or even of the existence of things eternal. All that we could possibly have inferred from our occasional sensations of smell and sound, would have been, that there existed some unknown cause by which they were produced. Let us suppose then a particular sensation to be excited in the mind of such a being. The moment this happens, he must necessarily ac- quire the knowledge of two facts at once : that of the existence of the sensatvm, and that of his own existence, as a sentient being. After the sensation is at an end, he can remember he felt it ; he can conceive that he feels it again. If he has felt a variety of different sensations, he can compare them together in respect of the pleasure or the pain they have afforded him, and will naturally desire the return of the agreeable sensations, and be afraid of the return of those which were painful.-- 56 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. 11. If the sensations of smell and sound are both excited in his mind at the same time, he can attend to cither of them he chooses, and withdraw his attention from the other, 0: he can withdraw his attention from both and fix it on some sensation he has felt formerly. In this manner, he might be led, merely by sensations existing in his mind, and conveying to him no information concerning matter, to exercise many of his most important faculties; and amidst all these different modifications and op- erations of his mind, he would feel, with irresistible conviction, that they all belong to one and the same sentient and intelligent being, or, in other words that they are all modifications and operations of him elf. I say nothing at present, of the various simple notions, (or simple ideas as they are commonly called,,) which would arise in his mind : for ex- ample, the idfeas of number, of duration, of cause, and effect, of personal identity; all of which, though perfectly unlike his sensations, could not fail to be suggested by means of them. Such a being, then, might know all that we know of mind at present, and as his language would be appropriated to mind solely, and not borrowed by analogy from ma- terial phenomena, he would even possess important advantages over us in conducting the study of pneumatology. From these observations it sufficiently appears, what is the real amount of the celebrated doctrine, which refers the origin of all our knowledge to our sensations ; and that, even granting it to be true, (which for my own part, I am disposed to do, in the sense in which I have now explained it,) it would by no means follow from it, that our notions 0/ the operations of mind, nor even many of those notions which are commonly suggested to us, in the first instance, by the perception of external objects, are necessarily subsequent to our knowledge of the qualities, or even of the existence of matter. The remarks which I have offered on this doctrine will not appear su- perfluous to those who recollect that, although it has, for many years past been a subject of controversy in England, it continues still to be implicitly adopted by the best philosophicaljsvritersin France; arid that it has been employed by some of them to support the system of mate- rialism, and by others to shew, that the intellectual distinctions between man and brutes ariseentirely from the differences in their animal organ- ization and in their powers of external perception. CHAPTER SECOND OP ATTENTION. W hen we are deeply engaged in conversation, or occupied with any speculation that is interesting to the mind, the surrounding objects ei- ther do not produce in us the perceptions they are fitted to excite, or these perceptions are instantly forgotten. A clock, for example, may strike in the same room with us, without our being able, next moment. to recollect whether we head it or not. chap, il] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 57 In these, and similar cases, I believe, it is commonly taken for granted, that we really do not perceive the external object From some analo- gous facts, however, I am inclined to suspect that this opinion is not well founded. A person who falls aslee^ at church, and is suddenly awaked, is unable to recollect the last words spoken by the preacher ; or even to recollect that he was speaking at all. And yet, that sleep does not suspend entirely the powers of perception, may be inferred from this, that if the preacher were to make a sudden pause in his dis- course, every person in the congregation, who was asleep, would in- stantly awake. In this case, therefore,it appears, that a person may be conscious of a perception, without being able afterwards to recol- lect it. . Many other instances of the same general fact might be produced___ When we lead a book, especially in a language which is not perfectly familiar to us,) we must perceive successively every different letter, and must afterwards combine these letters into syllables and words, before we comprehend the meaning of a sentence. This process, however, passes through the mind, without leaving any trace on the memory. It has been proved by optical writers, that, in perceiving the distances of visible objects from the eye, there is a judgment of the understanding antecedent to the perception. In some cases this judgment is founded on a variety of circumstances combined together ; the conformation of the organ necessary for distinct vision ; the inclination of the optic axes ; the distinctness or indistinctness of the minute parts of the ob- ject ; the distances of the intervening objects from each other, and from the eye ; and, perhaps on other circumstances besides these : and yet, in consequence of our familiarity with such processes from our earliest infancy, the perception seems to be instantaneous; and it requires much reasoning, to convince persons unaccustomed to philosophical specula- tions, that the fact is otherwise. Another instance of a still more familiar nature, may be of use for the farther illustration of the same subject. It is well known, that our thoughts do not succeed each other at random, but according to certain laws of association, which modern philosophers have been at much pains to investigate. It frequently, however, happens, particularly when the mind is animated by conversation, that it makes a sudden transition from one subject to another, which, at first view, appears to be very remote from it; and that it requires a considerable degree of reflection, to enable the person himself by whom the transition was made, to ascertain what were the intermediate ideas. A curious in- stance of such a sudden transition is mentioned by Hobbes in his Levia- than. " In a company," (says he,) " in which the conversation turned " on the civil war, what could be conceived more impertinent, than for " a person to ask abruptly, What was the value of a Rora3n denarius ? " On a little teflection, however, I was easily able to trace the train of " thought which suggested the question; for the original subject of " discourse naturally introduced the history of the King, and of the " treachery of those who surrendered his person to his enemies; this " again introduced the treachery of Judas Iscariot,and the sum of i-:o- " ney which he received lor his reward.—And all this train of ideas," (says Hobbes,) " passed through tie *uind of the speaker in a twinkling, •• in consequence of the velocity of thought." It is by no means impro- vol. i. 8 58 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. If- bable that if the speaker himself had been interrogated about the con- nexion of ideas, which led him aside from the original topic of discourse, he would have found himself, at first, at a losi. for an answer. In the instances which have been last mentioned, we have also a proof that a perception, or an idea, which passes through the mind without leaving any trace in the memory, may yet serve to introduce other ideas connected with it by the laws of association. Other proofs of this important fact f>hall be mentioned afterwards. When a perception or an idea passes through the mind, without our being able to recollect it next moment, the vulgar themselves ascribe our want of memory to a want of attention. Thus, in the instance al- ready mentioned, of the clock, a person, upon observing that the minute hand had just passed twelve, would naturally say, that he did not at end to the clock when it was striking. There seems, therefore, to he a certain effort of the mind upon which, even in the judgment of the vulgar, memory in some measure depends; and which they dis- tinguish by the name of attention. The connexion between attention and memory has been remarked by many authors " Nee dubiuin est," (says Quiiitilian, speaking of memory,) " quin plurimum in hac parte valeat mentis intentio, et velut " acies luminum a prospectu rerum quas intuetur non aversa." The same observation has been made by Locke,* and by most of the writers on the subject of education. But although the connexion between the attention and memory has been frequently remarked in general terms, I do not recollect that the power of attention nas been mentioned by any of the writers on pneu- matology, in their enumeration of the faculties of the mind ;t nor has it bpeu considered by any one, so far as I know, as of sufficient importance to deserve a particular examination. Uelvetius, indeed, in his very in- genious w.»rk, De PEsprit, has entitled one of his chapters, De Vinegale capacite d' Attention: but what he considers under this article, is chief- ly that capacity of patient inquiry, (or as he calls it, une attention suivie) upon which philosophical genius seems in a great measure to depend. He has also remarked,! with the writers already mentioned, that the impression which any thing makes on the memory depends much on the * " Memory depends much on attention and repetition. Locke's Essay, b. i. chap. x. ■J* Some important observations on the subject of attention occur in different parts of Dr. Reid's writings, particularly in his Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, p. 62; and in his Essays on the Active Powers of Man, p. 78, et seq.— To this ingenious author we are indeb'ed for the remark, that attention to things external, is properly called observation ; and attention to the subjects of our con- sciousness, refection. He has also explained the causes of the peculiar difficulties which accompany this last exertion of the mind, and which form the chief obsta- cles to the progress of pneumatology. I shall have occasion, in another part of this work, to treat of habhs of inattention in general, and to suggest some prac- tical hints with respect to the culture both of the powers of observation and re- flection. The view which I propose to lake of attention at present, is extremely limited ; and is iieended merely to comprehend such general principles as are ne- cessary '.o prepare 'he reader for the chapters which are to follow. i "C'est Parent ion, plus ou moms grande, qui grave plus ou moins profond*- ment les objets dans la memoire." chap, ii.] OF THE HUMAN MIND* m degree of attention we give to it; but he has taken no notice of that e£ fort which is absolutely essential to the lowest degree of memory. It is this effort that I propose to consider at present;—not those different de- grees of attention which imprint things more or less deeply on the mind, but that act or eflfort, without which, we have no recollection or memory whatever. With respect to the nature of this effort, it is perhaps impossible for us to obtain much satisfaction. We often speak ofgreaterand less de- grees of attention ; and, I believe in these cases, conceive the mind (if I may use the expression) to exert itself with different degrees of energy. I am doubtful, however, if this expression conveys any distinct meaning. For my own part, I am inclined to suppose, (though I would by no means be understood to speak with confidence,) that it is essential to memory that the perception or the idea, that we would wish to remem- ber, should remain in the mind for a certain space of time, and shotrid be contemplated by it exclusively of every thing else ; and that attention (consists partly, perhaps entirely) in the effort of the mind, to detain the idea or the perception, and to exclude the other objects that solicit its notice. Notwithstanding, however, the difficulty of ascertaining in what this act of the mind consists, every person must be satisfied of its reality from his own consciousness ;and of its essential connexion with the power of memory. I have already mentioned several instances.of ideas passing through the mind, without our being able to recollect them next moment. These instances were produced, merely to illustrate the meaning I an- nex to the word Attention ; and to recall to the recollection of the rea- der a few striking cases, in which the possibility of our carrying on a process of thought, which we are unable to attend to at the time, or to remember afterwards, is acknowledged in the received systems of philo- sophy. I shall now mention some other phenomena, which appear to me to be very similar to these, and to be explicable in the same manner; although they have commonly been referred to very different principles. The wonderful effect of practice in the formation of habits, has been often and justly taken notice of, as one of the most curious circumstan- ces in the human constitution. A mechanical operation, for example, which we at first performed with the utmost difficulty, comes, in time, to be so familiar to us, that we are able to perform it without the smal- lest danger of mistake ; even while the attention appears to be complete- ly engaged with other subjects. The truth seems to be, 'hat in conse- quence of the association of ideas, the different steps of the process pre- sent themselves successively to the thoughts, without any recollection on our part, and with a degree of rapidity proportioned to the length of our experience; so as to save us entirely the trouble of hesitation and reflection, by giving us every moment a precise and steady notion of the effect to be produced.* * I do not mean by. this observation, to call in question the effects which the practice of the mechanical arts has on the muscles of the body. These are as in- disputable as its effects on the mind. A man who has been arcusiomed to write with his right hand, can write better with his left hand, than another « ho never practised the art at all; but he cannot write so well with his left haiui as will, his right.—The effects of practice, therefore, it should seem, are produced partly on the mind and partly on the body. 60 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. 11. In the case of some operations, which are very familiar to us, we find ourselves unable to attend to, or to recollect, the acta of the will by which they are preceded; and accordingly, some philosophers of great eminence have called in question the existence of such volitions; and have represented our habitual actions as involuntary and mechanical. But surely the circumstance of our inability to recollect our volitions, does not authorize us to dispute their possibility ; any more than our in- ability to attend to the process of the mind, in estimating the di-tance of an object from the eye, authorizes us to affirm that the perception is instantaneous. Nor does it add any force to the objection to urge, that there are instances in which we find it difficult, or perhaps impossible, to check our habitual actions by a contrary volition. For it must be remembered, that this contrary volition does not remain with us steadily during the whole operation, but is merely a general intention or reso- lution, which is banished from the mind, as soon as the occasion pre- sents itself with which the habitual train of our thoughts and volitions is associated.* It may indeed be said, that these observations only prove the possi- bility that our habitual actions may be voluntary But if this be admit- ted, nothing more can well be required ; for surely, if these phenomena are clearly explicable from the known and acknowledged laws of the human mind, it would be unphilosophical to devise a new principle on purpose to account for them. The doctrine, therefore, which I have laid down with respect to the nature of habits, is by no means founded or. hypothesis, as has been objected 10 me by some of my friends; but on the c ntrary, the charge of hypothesis falls on those who attempt to explain them, by saying that they are mechanical or auUmatic; a doc- trine which, if it is at all intelligible, must be understood as implying the existence of some law of our constitution, which has been hitherto un- observed by philosophers ; and to which, 1 believe, it will be difficult to find any thing analogous in our constitution. Ip the foregoing observations, I have had in view a favourite doctrine of Dr Hartley; which has been maintained also of late by a much higher authority, I mean Dr. Reid. " Habit,"t (says this ingenious author) "differs from instinct, not in its " nature, but in its origin ; the last being natural, the first acquired.— " Both operate without will or intention, without thought, and there- " fore may be called mechanical principles." In another passage,! he expresses himself thus : " I conceive it to be a part of our constitution, " that what we have been accustomed to do, we acquire not only a fa- " cility but by a proneness to do on like occasions; so that it requires a * The solution of this difficulty which is given by Dr. Porterfield, is somewhat curious. " Such is the power of custom and habit, that many actions, which are no doubt voluntary, and proceed from our mind, are in certain circumstances rendered ne- cessary, so as to appear altogether mechanical, and independent of our wills ; but it does not from thence follow, thai, our mind is not concerned in such motions, but only that it has imposed upon itself a law, whereby it regulate* and governs them to the greatest advantage. In all this, there is nothing of intrinsical necessity j the mind is at absolute liberty to act as it pleases; but being a wise agent, it can- not choose but to act in conformity to this law, by reason of the utility and advan- tage *hat arises from this way of acting." Tbzatibs oh the Ete, vol ii. p. 17. f Essays on the Active Powers of Man, p. 128. $ Ibid. p. 130. chap. II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 61 " particular will or effort to forbear it, but to do it requires, \ery often, " no will at all." The sar.;e doctrine is laid down still more explicitly by Dr. Hartley. " Suppose," (says he,; " a person who has a perfectly voluntary com- '• mand over his fingers, to begin to learn to play on the harpsichord.— " The first step is to move his fingers from key to key, with a stow mo- " tion, looking at the notes, and exerting an express act of volition in " every motion By degrees the motions cling to one another, and to " the impressions of the notes, in the way of association, so often men- " tioned, the acts of volition growing less and less express all the time, " till at last they become evanescent and imperceptible. For an expert " performer will play from notes, or ideas laid up in the memory, and " at the same time carry on a quite different train of thoughts in his " mind ; or even hold a conversation with another Whence we may " conclude, that there is no intervention of the idea, or Mate of mind, * called Will."* Cases of this sort, Hartley calls " transitions of volun- H tary actions into automatic ones." I cannot help thinking it more philosophical to suppose, that those ac- tions which are originally voluntary, always continue so; although, in the case of operations which are become habitual in consequence of loug practice, we may not be able to recollect every different volition. Thus, in the case of a performer on the harpsichord, I apprehend, that there is an act of the will preceding every motion of every finger, although he may not be able to recollect theee volitions afterwards ; and although he may, during the time of his performance, be employed in carrying on a separate train of thought. For, it must be remarked, that the most ra- pid performer can, when he pleases, play so slowly, as to be able to at- tend to, and to recollect, every separate act of his will in the various movements of his fingers; and he can gradually accelerate the rale of his execution, till he is unable to recollect these acts. Now, in this in- stance, one of two suppositions must be made ; the one is, that the ope- rations in the two cases are carried on precisely in the same manner, and differ only in the degree of rapidity, and that when this rapidity exceeds a certain rate, the acts of the will are too momentary to leave any im- pression on the memory. The other is, that when the rapidity exceeds a certain rate, the operation is taken entirely out of our hands ; and is carried on by some unknown power, of the nature of which we are as ignorant, as of the cause of the circulation of the blood, or of the motion of the intestiues.t The last supposition seems to me to be somewhat • Vol. i. p. 108,109. f This seems to have been the opinion of Bishop Berkeley, whose doctrine con- cerning the nature of our habitual actions, coincides with* that of the two philoso- phers already quoted. It must be owned, we are not conscious of the systole and diastole of the heart, or the motion of the diaphragm. It may not, nevertheless be thence inferred, that unknowing nature can act regularly as well as ourselves.— The true inference is, that the self-thinking individual, or human person, is not the real author of those natural motions. And, in fact, no man blames himself, if they are wrong, or values himself, if they are right. The same may be 6aid of the fin* gers of a musician, which some object to be moved by habit, which understands not j it being evident that what is done by rule, must proceed from something that understands the rule; therefore, if not from the musician himself, from some other active intelligence ; the same, perhaps, which governs bees and spide. s, and moves the limbs of those who walk in their sleep.—See a Treatise, entitled Siris, p. 123,2d edit. 62 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. If. similar to that of a man who should maintain, that, although a body pro- jected with a moderate velocity, is seen to pass through all the interme- diate spaces in moving from one place to another, yet we are not entitled to conclude, that this happens when the body moves so quickly as to become invisible to the eye. The former supposition is supported by the analogy of many other facts in our constitution. Of some of these I have already taken notit e ; and it would be easy to add to the num- ber. An expert accountant, for example, can sum up, almost with a single glance of his eye, a long column of figures. He can tell the sum with unerring certainty, while, at the same time, he is unable to recol- lect any one of the figures of which that sum is composed ; and yet no- body doubts, that each of these figures has passed through his mind ; or supposes, that when the rapidity of the process becomes so great, that he is unable to recollect the various steps ol it, he obtains the result by a sort of inspiration. This last supposition would be perfectly analo- gous to Dr. Hartley's doctrine concerning the nature of our habitual exertions. The only plausible objection which, I think, can be offered to the principles I have endeavoured to establish on this subject, is founded on the astonishing, and almost incredible rapidity, they necessarily suppose in our intellectual operations. When a person, for example, reads aloud ; there must, according to this doctrine, be a separate volition preceding the articulation of every letter; and it has been found, by actual trial,* that it is possible to pronounce about two thousand letters in a minute. Is it reasonable to suppose, that the mind is capable of so many different acts in an interval of time so very inconsiderable ? With respect to this objection, it may be observed, in the first place, that all arguments against the foregoing doctrine with respect to our habitual exertions, in so far as they are founded on the inconceivable rapidity which they suppose in our intellectual operations, appjy equal- ly to the common doctrine concerning our perception of distance by the eye. But this is not all. To what does the supposition amount, which is considered as so incredible ? Only to this, that the mind is so formed, as to be able to carry on certain intellectual processes, in intervals of time too short to be estimated by our faculties ; a supposition which, so far from being extravagant, is supported by the analogy of many of our most certain conclusions in natural philosophy. The discoveries made by the microscope have laid open to our senses a world of wonders, the existence of which hardly any man would have admitted upon inferior evidence; and have gradually prepared the way for those physical spe- culations, which explain some of the most extraordinary phenomena of nature, by means of modifications of matter far too subtle for the exa- mination of our organs. Why then should it be considered as unphi- losophical, after having demonstrated the existence of various intellec- tual processes which escape our attention in consequence of their rapidi- * Incredibili velocitate peraguntur et repetuntur musculorum contractiones.— Docent cursus, praesertim quadrupedum; vel lingua, quae quadringenta vocabula, forte bis mille literas, exprimit, spatio temporis quod minutum vocare solemus, quamvis ad multas literas exprimendas plures musculorum contractiones requi- rantur. , Conspectus Medicina Theoretic*, Auct. Jac. Gregory, Edit, altera, p. 171. chap, il] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 63 ty, to carry the supposition a little farther, in order to bring under the known laws of the human constitution, a class of mental operations, which must otherwise remain perfectly inexplicable? Surely, our ideas of time are merely relative, as well as our ideas of extension; nor is there any good reason for doubting, that, if our powers of attention and memory were more perfect than they are, so as to give us the same ad- vantage in examining rapid events which the microscope gives for ex- amining minute portions of extension, they would enlarge our views with respect to the intellectual world, no less, than that instrument has with respect to the material. It may contribute to remove, still more completely, some of the scru- ples which are naturally suggested by the foregoing doctrine, to remark, that, as the great use of attention and memory is to enable us to treasure up the results of our experience and reflection for the future regulation of our condu *t, it would have answered no purpose for the author of our nature to have extended their province to those intervals of time, which we have no occasion to estimate in the common business of life. All the intellectual processes I have mentioned are subservient to some particu- lar end, either of perception or of action ; and it would have been per- fectly superfluous, if, after this end it were gained, the steps which are instrumental in bringing about were all treasured up in memory. Such a constitution of our nature would have had no other effect but to store the mind with a variety of useless particulars. After all I have said, it will perhaps be still thought, that some of the reasonings 1 have offered are too hypothetical; and it is even possible, that some may be dispose') rather to dispute the common theory of vision, than admit the conclusions I have endeavoured to establish. To such readers the following considerations may be of use, as they afford a more palpable instance, than any I have yet meutioned, of the rapidi- ty with which the thoughts may be trained by practice, to shift from one thing to another. When an equilibrist balances a rod upon his finger, not only the atten- tion of his mind, but the observation of his eye, is constantly requisite. —It is evident that the part of his body which supports the object is never wholly at rest; otherwise the object would no more stand upon it, than if placed in the same position upon a table. The equilibrist, therefore, must watch, in the very beginning, every inclination of the object from the proper position, in order to counteract this inclination by a contrary movement. In this manner, the object has never lime to fall-in any one direction, and is supported in a way somewhat analo- gous to that in which a top is supported on a pivot, by being made to spin upon an axis.—That a person should be able to do this in the case of a single object, is curious; but that he should be able to balance in the same way, two, or three, upon different parts of his body, and at the same time balance himself on a small cord or wire, is indeed wonderful. Nor is it possible to conceive that, in such an instance, the mind, at one and the same moment, attends to these different equilibriums; for it is not merely the attention which is requisite, but the eye. We must, therefore, conclude, that both of these are directed successively to the different equilibriums, but change from one object to another with such velocity, that the effect, with respect to the experiment, is the same as if they were directed to all the objects constantly. 64 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. II. It is worth while to remark farther, with respect to this last illustra- tion, that ii affords direct evidence of the possibility of our exerting acts of the will, which we are unable to recollect; for the movements of the equilibrist do not succeed each other in a regular order, like those of the harpsichord player, in performing a piece of music, but must in every instance be regulated by accidents, which may vary in number- less respects, ard which indeed must vary in numberless respects, every time he repeats the experiment: and therefore, although, in the former case, we should suppose, with Hartley, " that the motions cling to one " another and to the impressions of the notes, in the way of association, " without any intervention of the state of mind called will," yet, in this instauce,even the possibility of such a supposition is directly contradict- ed by the fact. The dexterity of jugglers (which, by the way, merits a greater degree of attention from philosophers, than it has yet attracted,) affords many curious illustrations of the same doctrine. The whole of this art seems to me to be founded on this principle ; that il is possible for a person, by long practice, to acquire a power, not only of carrying on certain intellectual processes more quickly than other men, (for all the feats of legerdemain suppose the exercise of observation, thought, and volition,) but of performing a variety of movements with the hand, before the eyes of a company, in an interval of time too short to enable the spectators to exert that degree of attention which is necessary to lay a foundation for memory.* As some philosophers have disputed the influence of the will in the case of habits, so others (particularly Stahl and his followers) have gone into the opposite extreme, by referring to the will all the vital motions. If it be admitted, (say these philosophers,) that there are instances in which we will an effect, without being able to make it an object of at- tention, is it not possible that, what we commonly call the vital and in- voluntary motions, may be the consequences of our own thought and volition ? But there ij surely a wide difference between those cases, in which the mind was at first conscious of thought and volition, and gradu- ally lost the power of attending to them, from the growing rapidity of the intellectual process, and a case in which the effect itself is perfectly unknown to the bulk of mankind, even after they arrive at maturity, and in which this effect has continued to take place with the most perfect regularity, from the very beginning of their animal existence, and long before the first dawn of either reflection or experience. Some of the followers of Stahl have stated the fact rather inaccurate- ly, even with respect to our habitual exertions. Thus Dr. Porterfield, in his Treatise on the Eye, is at pains to prove, that the soul may think and will without knowledge or consciousness. But this, I own, is to me in- conceivable. The true state of the fact, I apprehend is, that the mind may think and will, without attending to its thoughts and volitions, so as to be able afterwards to recollect them—Nor is this merely a verbal criticism ; for there is an important difference between consciousness and attention, which it is very necessary to keep in view, in order to *See Note (EO Chap. II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 63 think upon this subject with any degree of precision.* The one is an involuntary state of the mind ; the other isa voluntary act; theonehas no immediate connexion with memory, but the other is so essentially subservient to it, that, without some degree of it, the ideas and per- ceptions which pass through the mind, seem to leave no trace behind them. When two persons are speaking to us at once, we can attend to either of them at pleasure, without being much disturbed by the other. If we attempt to listen to both, we can understand neither. The fact seems to be, that when we attend constantly to one of the speakers, the words spoken by the other make no impression on the memory, in con- sequence of our not attending to them; and affect us as little as if they had not been uttered. This power, however, of the mind to attend to either speaker at pleasure, supposes that it is, at one and the same time, conscious of the sensations which both produce. Another well-known fact may be of use in illustrating the same dis- tinction. A person who accidentally loses his sight, never fails to im- prove gradually in the sensibility of his touch.—Now, there are only two ways of explaining this. The one is, that, in consequence of the loss of the one sense, some change takes place in the physical constitu- tion of the body, so as to improve a different organ of perception. The other, that the mind gradually acquires a power of attending to and re- membering those slighter sensations of which it was formerly conscious, but which, from our habits of inattention, made no impression whatev- er on the memory. No one, surely, can hesitate for a moment, in pro- nouncing which of these two suppositions is the more philosophical. Having treated, at considerable length, of those habits in which both mind and body are concerned, I proceed to make a few remarks on some phenomena which are purely intellectual; and which, I think, are explicable on the same principles with those which have been now under our review. Every person who has studied the elements of geometry, must have observed many cases, in which the truth of a theorem struck him the moment he heard the enunciation. I do not allude to those theorems the truth of which is obvious almost to sense, such as, that any two sides of a triangle are greater than the third side, or that one circle cannot cut another circle in more than two points ; but to some propositions with respect to quantity, considered abstractly, (to some, for example, in the fifth book of Euclid) which almost every student would be ready to admit without a demonstration. These propositions, however, do by no means belong to the class of axioms ; for their evidence does not strike every person equally, but requires a certain degree of quickness to perceive it. At the same time, it frequently happens, that, although we are convinced the proposition is true, we cannot state immediately to others upon what our conviction is founded. In such cases, I think it * The distinctions between attention and consciousness is pointed out by Dr. Reid, in his Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, p. 60. " Attention is a vo- luntary act; it requires an active exertion to begin and to continue it; and it may be continued as long as we will ; but Consciousness is involuntary, and of no con- tinuance, changing with every thought." The same author has remarked, that these two operations of the mind have been frequently confouaded by philoso- phers, and particularly bv Mr. Locke. Vol. i. 9 66 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [(hap. it. highly probable, that before we give our a«sent to the theorem, n pro- cess of thought* has passed through the mind, but has passed through it so quickly, that we cannot without difficulty arrest our id-as in their rapid succession,and state them toothersin their proper and logical order. It is some confirmation of this theory, that there are no propositions, of which it is more difficult to give a legitimate proof from first principle^ than of those which are only removed a few steps from the class of ax- ioms—and that those men who are the most remarkable for their quick perception of mathematical truth, are seldom clear and methodical in communicating their knowledge to others.—A man of a moderate de- gree of quickness, the very first time he is made acquainted with the fundamental principles of the method of fluxions, or of the method of prime and ultimate ratios, is almost instantaneously satisfied of their truth ; yet how difficult is it to demonstrate these principles rigorously ! What I have now said with respect to mathematics, may be applied rn a great measure to the other branches of knowledge. How many questions daily occur to us. in morals, in po!i'ics,and in common life, in considering which, we almost iistantaneously see where the truth lies, although we are not in a condition, all at once, to explain the grounds of our conviction ! Indeed I apprehend, there are few. even among those who have devoted themselves to study, but who have not been ha- bituated to communicate their knowledge to others, who are able to ex- hibit in their natural order, the different steps of any investigation by which they have been led to form a particular conclusion. The com- mon observation, therefore, that an obscure elocution always indicates an imperfect knowledge of the subject, although it may perhaps be true with respect to men, who have cultivated the art of speaking, is by no means to be relied on as a general rule in judging of the talents of those, whose speculations have been carried on with a view merely to their own private satisfaction. In the course of my own experience, I have heard of more than one instance of men, who, without any mathematical education, were able, on a little reflection, to give a solution of any simple algebraical pro- blem ; and who, at the same time, were perfectly incapable of explain- ing by what steps they obtained the result. In these cases, we have a direct pro "f of the possibility of investigating even truths which are pret- ty remote, by an intellectual process, wh*ch, as soon as finished, vanishes almost entirely from the memory.—It is probable, that something of the same kind takes place much more frequently in the other branches of knowledge, in which our reasonings consist commonly but of a few steps. Indeed, I am inclined to think, that it is in this way that by far the greater part of our speculative conclusions are formed There is no talet.t, I apprehend, so essential to a public speaker, as to be able to state clearly every different step of those trains of thought by which he himself was led to the conclusions he wishes to establish. Much may be here done by study and experience. Even in those cases in which the truth of a proposition seems to strike us instantaneously, although we may not be able, at first, to discover the media of proof> we seldom fail in the discovery by perseverance.—Nothing contributes * Of the nature of these processes of thought, I shall treat fully in another part of my work, under the article of Reasoning. I have expressed myself concerning them, in this chapter, in as general terms as possible. vkap. II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 67 so much to form this talent as the study of metaphysics ; not the ab- surd metaphysics of the schools, but that study which has the operations of the mind for its object. By habituating us to reflect on the subjects of our consciousness, it enables us to retard, in a considerable degree, the current of thought; to arrest many of those ideas, which would other- wise escape our notice ; and to render the arguments which we employ for the conviction of others, an exact transcript of those trains of inquiry and reasoning, which originally led us to form cur opinions. These observations lead me to take notice of an important distinction between the intellectual habits of men of speculation and of action. The latter, who are under a necessity of thinking and deciding on the spur of the occasion, are led to cultivate, as much as possible, a quick- ness in their mental operations, and sometimes acquire it in so great a degree, that their judgments seem to be almost intuitive. To those, on the other hand, who have not merely to form opinions for themselves, but to communicate them to ethers, il is necessary to retard the train of thought as it passes in the mind, so as to be able afterwards to recollect every different step of the process ; a habit, which, in some cases, has such an influence on the intellectual powers, that there are men, who, even in their private speculations,not only make use of words as an in- strument of thought, but form these words into regular sentences. It may perhaps appear, at first, a paradoxical observation, that one great employment of philosophers, in a refined age, is to bring to light, and arrange, those rapid and confused trains of thought, which appear from the structure of languages, and from the monuments of ancient laws and governments, to have passed through the minds of men in the most remote and unenlightened periods. In proof, however, of this, it is sufficient to mention the systematical analogy which we find, to a cer- tain degree, running through the structure of the most imperfect tongues, (for example, in the formation of the different parts of the verbs,) and those general principles, which the philosophical lawyer traces amidst an apparent chaos of precedents and statutes. In the language, too, of the rudest tribe, we find words transferred from one subject to another, which indicate, in the mind of the individual who first made the transference, some perception of resemb'ame or of analogy. Such transferences can hardly be ascribed to accident, but may be consider- ed as proofs that the analogies, which the philosopher afterwards points out between the objects which are distinguished by the same name, had been perceived by the inventors of language, although it is more tharj probable that they never expressed them in words, nor could even have explained them if they had been questioned on the subject. Nor will this appear a bold or incredible supposition, if we reflect on the sagacity and ingenuity which savages, and even peasants, discover, in overcoming the difficulties which occur in their situation. They do not, indeed, engage in long processes of abstract reasoning, for which they have no inclination, and which it is impossible to carry on without the use of a cultivated and a copious language; but, when pressed by present circumstances, they combine means to accomplish particular ends, in a manner which indicates the exercise both of invention and of reasoning. It is probable that such processes are carried on in their minds with much less assistance from language, than a philosopher would de 6H ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSPHY [cJwp. II. rive on a similar occasion ; and it is almost certain, that they would find themselves perfectly incapable of communicating to others the steps by which they were led to their conclusions. In consequence of these circumstances, the attainments of the human mind, in its ruder state, perish with the individual, without being recorded, in writing, or per- haps expressed in words ; and we are left to infer them indirectly from the structure of language, or from the monuments of ancient customs and institutions. When a train of thought leads to any interesting conclusion, or ex- cites any pleasant feeling, it becomes peculiarly diffi: ult to arrest our fleeting ideas ; because the mind, when once it has felt the pleasure, has little inclination to retrace the steps by which it arrived at it. This is one great cause of the difficulty attending philosophical criticism. When a critic explains to us, why we are pleased with any particular beauty, or offended with any defect, it is evident, that if his theory be just, the circumstances which he points out as the foundation of our pleasure or un- easiness, must have occurred to our minds before we were pleased with the beauty, or offended with the defect. In such cases, it sometimes hap- pens, when a critic has been fortunate in his theory, that we recognise at first sight our old ideas, and, without any farther consideration, are ready to bear testimony to the truth,from our own consciousness. So very difficult, however, is it to attend to the ideas which excite such feelings, that it often appears to be doubtful, whether a theory be right or wrong; and that where there is every reason to believe that the pleasure is pro- duced in all men in the same way, different critics adopt different theories with respect to its cause. It is long practice alone, joined to what is commonly called a metaphysical turn of mind, (by which I think is chiefly to be understood, a capacity of reflecting on the subjects of our consciousness) that can render such efforts of attention easy. Exquisite sensibility, so far from being useful in this species of criticism, both gives a disrelish for the study, and disqualifies for pursuing it. Before we leave the subject of attention, it is proper to take notice of a question which has been stated with respect to it; whether we have the power of attending to more than one thing at one and the same in- stant; or, in other words, whether we can attend at one and the same instant, to objects which we can attend to separately ?* This question has, if I am not mistaken, been already decided by several philosophers in the negative ; ard I acknowledge, for my own part, that although their opinion has not only been called in question by others, but even treated with some degree of contempt as altogether hypothetical, it ap- pears to me to be the most reasonable and philosophical that we can form on the subject. There is indeed a great variety of cases, in which the mind apparently exerts different acts of attention at once ; but from the instances which have already been mentioned, of the astonishing rapidity of thought, it is obvious, that all this may be explained, without supposing these acts to be co-existent; and I may even venture to add it may all be explain- ed in the most satisfactory manner, without ascribing to our intellectual • I have added this explanation to obviate the question, What is meant by one object ? chap, II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 69 operations a greater degree of rapidity, than that with which we know from the fact that they are sometimes carried on. The effect of prac- tice, in increasing this capacity of apparently attending to different things at once, renders this explanation of the phenomenon in question more probable than any other. The case of the equilibrist and rope-dancer already mentioned, is particularly favourable to this explanation ; as it affords direct evidence of the possibility of the mind's exerting different successive acts in an interval of time so short, as to produce the same sensible effect, as if they had been exerted at one and the same moment. In this case, indeed, the rapidity of thought is so remarkable, that if the different acts of the mind were not all necessarily accompanied with different movements of the eye, there can be no reason for doubting, that the philosophers, whose doctrine I am now controverting, would have asserted, that they are all mathematically co-existent. Upon a question, however, of this sort, which does not admit of a perfectly direct appeal to the fact, \ would by no means be understood to decide with confidence ; and therefore I should wish the conclusions I am now to state, to be received as only conditionally established. They are necessary and obvious consequences of the general principle, " that the mind can only attend to one thing at once j" but must stand or fall with the truth of that supposition. It is commonly understood, I believe, that, in a concert of music, a good ear can attend to the different parts of the music separately, or can attend to them all at once, and feel the full effect of the harmony. If the doctrine, however, which I have endeavoured to establish, be ad- mitted, it will follow, that, in the latter case, the mind is constantly va- rying its attention from one part of the music to the other, and that its operations are so rapid, as to give us no perception of an interval of time. The same doctrine leads to some curious conclusions with respect to vision. Suppose the eye to be fixed in a particular position, and the picture of an object to be painted on the retina. Does the mind per- ceive the complete figure of the object at once, or is this perception the result of the various perceptions we have of the different points in the outline ? With respect to this question, the principles already stated lead me to conclude, that the mind does at one and the same time per- ceive every point in the outline of the object, (provided the whole of it be painted on the retina at the same instant,) for perception, like con- sciousness, is an involuntary operation. As no two points, however, of the outline are in the same direction, every point, by itself, constitutes just as distinct an object of attention to the mind as if it were separated by an interval of empty space from all the rest. If the doctrine there- fore formerly stated be just, it is impossible for the mind to attend to more than one of these points at once ; and as the perception of the figure of the object implies a knowledge of the relative situation of the different points with respect to each other, we must conclude, that the perception of figure by the eye, is the result of a number of different acts of attention*. These acts of attention, however, are performed with such rapidity, that the effect with respect to us, is the same as if the perception were instantaneous. In farther confirmation of this reasoning, it may be remarked, that if *tO ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. Ill the perception of visible figure were an immediate consequence of the picture on the retina, we should have, at the first glance, as distinct an idea of a figure of a thousand sides, as of a triangle or a square. The Uuth is. that when the figure is very simple, the process of the mind is so rapid, that the perception seems to be instantaneous ; but whew the sides are multiplied beyond a certain number, the interval of time neces- sary for these different acts of attention becomes perceptible. It may perhaps be asked, what I mean by a point in the outline of a figure, and what it is that constitutes this point one object of attention ? The answer, 1 apprehend, is, that this point is the minimum visibile. If the point be less, we cannot perceive it: if it be greater, it is not all seen in one direction. If these observations be admitted, it will follow, that, without the fa- culty of memory, we coald have had no perception of visible figure. ~©♦<=>— CHAPTER THIRD. OF CONCEPTION. J)y Conception, I mean that power of the mind, which enables it to form a notion of an absent object of perception, or of a sensation which it has formerly felt. I do not contend that this is exclusively the proper meaning of the word, but I think that the faculty which I have now de- fined deserves to be distinguished by an appropriate name. Conception is often confounded with other powers. When a painter makes a picture of a friend, who is absent or dead, he is commonly said to paint from memory: and the expression is sufficiently correct for common conversation. But in an analysis of the mind, there is ground for a distinction. The power of conception enables him to make the features of his friend an object of thought, so as to copy the resem- blance ; the power of memory recognises these features as a former ob- ject of perception. Every act of memory includes an idea of the past; conception implies no idea of time whatever.* According to this view of the matter, the word conception corresponds to what was called by the schoolmen simple apprehension ; with this dif- ference only, that they included, under this name, our apprehension of general propositions, whereas I should wish to limit the application of the word conception to our sensations, and the objects of our perceptions. Dr. Reid, in his enquiry, substitutes the word conception instead of the simple apprehension of the schools, and employs it in the same exten- sive signification. I think it may contribute to make our ideas more distinct, to restrict its meaning:—and for such a restriction, we have the * Shakspeare calls this power " the mind's eye." Hamler.—" My father ! Methinks 1 see my father. Horatio.—" Where,my Lord? fl:rnlet.—" In my mind's eye, Horatio." Act. i. Scene 4 Chap. III.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 7i authority of philosophers in a case perfectly analogous.—In ordinary language we apply the same word perception to the knowledge which we have by our senses of external objects, and to our knowledge of spe- culative truth : and yet an author would be justly censured, who should treat of these twooperations of the rnind under the same article of pe»- ception. I apprehend there is as wide a difference between th e con- ception of a truth, and the conception of an absent object of sense, as be- tween the perception of a tree, and the perception of a mathematical theorem.—I have therefore taken the liberty to distinguish also the two former operations of the mind ; and under the article of perception shall confine myself to that faculty, whose province it is to enable us to form a notion of our past sensations, or of the objects of sense that we have formerly perceived. Conception is frequently used as synonymous with Imagination. Dr. Reid says, that "imagination, in its proper sense, signifies a lively con- ■k ception of objects of sight." ''This isa talent" (he remarks) 'fof im- " portance to poets and orators; and deserves a proper name, on ac- '{ count of its connection with their arts." He adds, that " imagination ■" is distinguished from conception, as a part from a whole." I shall not inquire, at present, into the proper English meaning of the words conception and imagination. In a study such as this, so far re- moved from the common purposes of speech, some latitude may per- haps be allowed in the use of words, provided only that we define ac- curately those we employ, snd adhere to our own definitions. The business of conception, according to the account I have given of it, is to present us with an exact transcript of what we have felt or per- ceived. But we have, moreover, a power of modifying our conceptions, by combining" the parts of different ones together, so as to form new wholes of our own creation. I shall employ the word imagination to express this power : and, I apprehend, that this is the proper sense of the word; if imagination be the power which gives birth to the pro- ductions of the poet and the painter. This is not a simple faculty of the mind. It presupposes abstraction, to separate from each other qualities and circumstances which have been perceived in coi junction, and also judgment and taste to direct us in forming the combinations. If they are made wholly at random, they are proofs of insanity.* The first remarkable fact which strikes us with respect to conception is, that we can conceive the objects of some senses much more easily than those of others. Thus we can conceive an absent visible object, such as a building that is familiar to us, much more easily than a parti- cular sound, a particular taste, or a particular pain, which we have for- * In common discourse, we often us.e the phrase of thinking upon an object, to express what Iheie call, the conception of it.—In the following passage, Sliak- speare uses the former of these phrases, and the words imagination and apprelien. *ion as synonymous with each other. ----Who can hold a fire in his hand, fly thinking en the frosty Caucasus ? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bare iniagina' ion of a feast ? Or wallow naked in December's snow. By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ? Oh no! the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. K. Ricuinu II. Act. i. Scene 6. 72 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [ihtp. W merly felt. It is probable, however, that this power might be improved in the case of some of our senses. Few people, I believe, are able to form a very distinct conception of sounds, and yet it is certain, that, by practice, a person may acquire a power of amusing himself with reading written music. And in the case of poetical numbers, il is universally known, that a reader may enjoy the harmony of the verse, without arti- culating the words, even in a whisper. In such cases, I take for gran- ted, that our pleasure arises from a very strong conception of the sounds which we have been accustomed to associate with particular written characters. The peculiarity, in the case of visible objects, seems to arise from this; that when we think of a sound or of a taste, the object of our con- ception is one single detached sensation; whereas every visibh object is complex, and the conception which we form of it as a whole, is aided by the association of ideas. To perceive the force of this observation, it is necessary to recollect what was formerly said on the subject of at- tention. As we cannot at one instant attend to every point of the pic- ture of an object on the retina, so, I apprehend, we cannot at one in- stant form a conception of the whole of any visible object, but that our conception of the object as a whole, is the result of many conceptions. The association of ideas connects the different parts together, and pre- sents them to the mind in their proper arrangement, and the various re- lations which these parts bear to one another in point of situation, con- tribute greatly to strengthen the associations. It is some confirmation of this theory, that it is more easy to remember a succession of sounds, than any particular sound which we have heard detached and unconnected. The power of conceiving visible objects, like all other powers that depend on the association of ideas, may be wonderfully improved by habit. A person accustomed to drawing, retains a much more perfect notion of a building or of a landscape which he ha3 seen, than one who has never practised that art. A portrait painter traces the form of the human body from memory, with as little exertion of attention, as he employs in writing the letters which compose his name. In the power of conceiving colours, too, there are striking differences among individuals: and, indeed, I am inclined to suspect, that, in the greater number of instances, the supposed defects of sight in this respect ought to be ascribed rather to a defect in the power of conception. One thing is certain, that we often see men who are perfectly sensible of the difference between two colours when they are presented to them, who cannot give names to these colours, with confidence, when they see them apart, and are perhaps apt to confound the one with the other. Such men, it should seem, feel the sensation of colour like other men, when the object is present, but are incapable (probably in consequence of some early habit of inattention) to conceive the sensation distinctly when the object is removed. Without this power of conception, it is evidently impossible for them, however lively their sensations may be, to give a name to any colour; for the application of the name supposes not only a capacity of receiving the sensation, but a power of comparing it with one formerly felt. At the same time, I would not be understood by these observations to deny, that there are cases, in which there is a natural defect of the organ in the perception of colour. In some cases, perhaps, the sensation is not felt at all, and in others, the faintness of the sensation may be one cause of those habits of inattention, from which the incapacity of conception has arisen. chap, hi.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 73 A talent for lively description, at least in the case of sensible objects, depends chiefly on the degree in whifh the dcscriber possesses the pow- er of conception. We may remark, even in common conversation, a striking differen-e among individuals in this respect. One man, in at- tempting to convey a notion of any object he has seen, seems to place, it before him, and to paint from actual perception ; another, although not deficient in a ready elocution, finds himself in such a situation confu- sed and embarrassed among a number of particulars imperfectly ap- prehended, which crowd into his mind without any just order and con- nexion. Nor is it merely to the accuracy of our descriptions that this power is subservient: it contributes more than any thing else to render theiu striking and expressive to others, by guiding us to a selection of such circumstances as are most prominent and characteristical ; in so much that I think it may reasonably be doubted, if a person would not write a happier description of an object from the conception than from the actual perception of it. It has been often remarked, that the perfection of description does not consist in a minute specification of cir- cumstances, but in a judicious selection of them, and that the best rule for making the selection is, to attend to the particulars that make the deepest impression on our minds. When the object is actually before us, it is extremely difficult to compare the impressions which diffrent cir- cumstances produce, and the very thought of writinga description would prevent the impressions which would otherwise take place. When we afterwards conceive the object the representation of it we form to "Ur- selves, however lively, is merely an outline; and is made up of those circumstances, which really struck us most at the moment, while others of less importance are obliterated. The impression, indeed, which a cir- cumstance makes on the mind, will vary considerably with the degree of a person's taste ; but I am inclined to think, that a man of lively con- ceptions, who paints from thei-e, while his mind is yet warm from the original scene, can hardly fail to succeed in descriptive composition. The facts and observations which I have now mentioned, are appli- cable to conception as distinguished from imagination. The two pow- ers, however, are very nearly allied, and are frequently so blended, that it is difficult to say, to which of the two some particular operations of the mind are to be referred. There are also many general facts which hold equally with respect to both. The observations which follow, if they are well founded, are of this number, and might have been intro- duced with equal propriety under either article. I mention them here, as I shall have occasion to refer to them in the course of the following work, in treating of some subjects, which will naturally occur to our ex- amination, before we have another opportunity of considering this part of our constitution. It is a common, I believe I may say an universal doctrine among lo- gicians, that conception (or imagination, which is often used as synony- mous with it) is attended with no belief of the existence of its object. " Perception," says Dr. Reid," is attended with a belief of the present " existence of its object; memory, with a belief of its past existence ; " but imagination is attended with no belief at all; and was therefore " called by the schoolmen, apprehensio simplex." It is with great diffidence, that I presume to call in question a princi- ple, which has been so generally received; yet there are several circum- vol. i. 10 74 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. Ut. stances which lead me to doubt of it. If it were a specifical distinction between perception and imagination, that the former is always attended with belief and the latter with none, then the more lively our imagina- tion were of any object, and the more completely that object occupied the attention, the less should we be apt to believe its existence ; for it is reasonable to think, that when any one of our powers is employed sepa- rately from the rest and there is nothing to withdraw the attention from it, the laws which regulate its operation will be most obvious to our ob- servation, and will be most completely discriminated from those which are characteristical of the other powers of the mind. So very different however is the fact, that it is matter of common remark, that when im- agination is very lively, we are apt to ascribe to its objects a real exis- tence, as in the case of dreaming or of madness ; and we may add, in the Case of those who, in spite of their own general belief of the absurdity of the vulgar stories of apparitions, dare not trust themselves alone with their own imaginations in the dark. That imagination is in these instan- ces attended with belief, we have all the evidence that the nature of the thing admits of, for we feel and act in the same manner as we should do, if we believed that the objects of our attention were real ; which is the only proof that metaphysicians produce, or can produce, of the belief which accompanies perception. In these cases, the fact, that I wish to establish, is so sinking, that it has never been called in question ; but in most cases, the impression which the objects of imagination make on the mind is so momentary, and is so immediately corrected by the surrounding objects of percep- tion, that it has not time to influence our conduct. Hence we are apt to conclude on a superficial view, that imagination is attended with no belief; and the conclusion is surely ju^t in most cases, if, by belief, we mean a permanent conviction which influences our conduct. But if the word be used in the strict logical sense, I am inclined to think, after the most careful attention to what I experience in'myself, that the exercise both of conception and imagination is always accompanied with a be- lief that their objects exist.* When a painter conceives the face and * As the foregoing reasoning, though satisfactory to myself, has not appear- ed equally so to some of my friends, I should wish the reader to consider the re- marks which I now offer, as amounting rather to a query, than to a decided opinion. May 1 take the liberty of adding, that one of the arguments which I have stated in opposition to the common doctrine concerning imagination, appears to me to be authorized in some measure, by the following reasoning of Dr. Reid's on a different subject ? In considering those sudden bursts of passion, which lead us to wreak our vengeance upon inanimate objects, he endeavours to shew, that we have in such cases, a momentary belief that the object is alive. " I confess,'' says he, '* it seems to me impossible, that there should be resentment against a thing, which, at that very moment, is considered as inanimate ; and consequently incapa- ble either of intending hurt, or of being published.—There must, therefore, I con- ceive, be some momentary notion or conception, that the object of our resentment is capable of punishment.'' In another passage, the same author remarks, that " men may be governed, in their practice, by a belief, which, in speculation, they reject." " I knew a man,*'says he, " who was as much convinced as any man of the folly of the popular belief of apparitions in the dark: yet he could not sleep in a room alone, nor go alone into a room in the dark. Can it be said, that his fear did not imply a belief of danger ? This is impossible. Yet his philosophy convinced him, that be was in no more danger in the dark when alone, than with company. Here an unreasonable belief, which was merely a prejudice of the nursery, stuck bo chap. III.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 75 figure of an absent friend, in order to draw his picfure, he believes for the moment that his friend is before him. The belief, indeed, is only momentary ; for it is extremely difficult, in our waking hours, to keep up a steady and undivided attention to any object we conceive or ima- gine, and, as soon as the conception or the imagination is over, the be- lief which attended it is at an end. We find that we can recall and dis- miss the objects of these powers at pleasure ; and therefore we learn to consider them as creations of the mind, which have no separate and in- dependent existence. The compatibility of such a speculative disbelief, as I have here sup- posed, of the existence of an object, with a contrary momentary belief, may perhaps be more readily admitted, if the following experiment be considered with attention. Suppose a lighted candle to be so placed before a concave mirror, that the image of the flame maybe seen between the mirror and the eye of the observer. In this case, a person who is acquainted with the princi- ples of optics, or who has seen the experiment made before, has so strong a speculative conviction of the non-existence of the object in that place where he sees its image, that he would not hesitate to put his fin- ger to the apparent flame, without any apprehension of injury. Suppose, however, that in such a case it were possible for the obser- ver to banish completely from his thoughts all the circumstances of the experiment, and to confine his attention wholly to his perception ; would he not believe the image to be a reality ? and would he not expect the same consequences from touching it, as from touching a real body in a state of inflammation ? If these questions be answered in the affirmative,' it will follow that the effect of the perception, while it engages the at- tention completely to itself, is to produce belief; and that the specula- tive disbelief, according to which our conduct in ordinary cases is regu- lated, is the result of a recollection of the various circumstances with which the experiment is accompanied. If, in such a case as I have now supposed, the appearance exhibited to us is of such a nature, as to threaten us with any immediate danger, the effect is the same asifwewereto banish from our thoughts the circumstances of the experiment, and to limit our attention solely to what we perceive : for here the belief, which is the first effect of the perception, alarms our fears, and influences our conduct, before reflec- tion has time to operate. In a very ingenious optical deception, which was lately exhibited in this city, the image of a flower was presented to the spectator and when he was about to lay hold of it with his hand, a stroke was aimed at him by the image of a dagger. If a person who has fast as to govern his conduct, in opposition to his speculative belief as a philoso- pher and a man of sense." ^ " There are few persons who can look down from the battlement of a very high tower without fear ; while their reason convinces them, that they are in no more danger than when standing upon the ground." These facts are easily explicable, on the supposition, that whenever the objects of imagination engross the attention wholly (which they may do, in opposition to any speculative opinion with respect to their non-existence,) they produce a tem- porary belief of their reality.—Indeed, in the last passage, Dr. Reid seems to admit this to be the case ; for, to say that a man who has a dread of apparitions, believes himself to be in danger when left alone in the dark, is to say, in other words, that he believes (for the time) that the objects of his imagination are real. 76 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chop. Ill seen this experiment is asked in his cooler moments, whether or not he believes the dagger which he saw to be real, he will readilv an-w«vr in the negative ; and yet the accurate statement of the fact undoubtedly is, that the first and the proper effect of the perception is belief, and that the disbelief he feels, i- the effect of subsequent reflection. The speculative disbelief which we feel with respect to the illu.-iotis of imagination, I conceive to be analogous to our speculative disbelief of the existence of the object exhibited to the eye in this opticnl decep- tion ; as our belief that the illusions of imagination are real, while that faculty occupies the mind exclusively, is analogous to the belief produ- ced by the optical deception while the attention is limited to our per- ception, and is withdrawn from the circumstances in which the expert* ment is made.* These observations lead me to take nothcof a- circumstance with re«pect to the belief accompanying perception, whir h it appears to me necessary to state, in order to render Dr. Reid's doctrine on that subject completely satisfactory. He has shewn, that certain sensations are, by a law of our nature, accompanied by an irresistible belief of the exist- ence of certain qualities of external objects Bnt this law extends no farther than to the present existence of the quality ; that is, to its exist- ence while we feel the corresponding sensation. Whence is it then, that we ascribe to the quality, an existence independent of our perception ? I apprehend we learn to do this by experience alone. We find that we cannot as in the case of imagination, dismiss or recall the perception of an external object. If I open my eyes, 1 cannot prevent myself from seeing the prospect which is before me. I learn therefore to ascribe to the objects of my senses, not only an existence at the time 1 perceive them, but an independent and a permanent existence. It is a strong confirmation of this doctrine, that in sleep, when (as I shall endeavour afterwards to shew) the influence of the will over the train of our thoughts is suspended, and when, of consequence, the time of their continuant e in the mind is not regulated by us, we ascribe to the objects of imagination an independent and permanent existence, as we do when awake to the objects of perception The same thing hap- pens in those kinds of madness, in which a particular idea takes posses- sion of the attention and occupies il to the exclusion of every thing else. Indeed, madness seems in many cases to ari-e entirely from a suspension of the influence of the will over the succession of our thoughts : in con- sequence of which, the objects of imagination appear to have an exist- ence independent of our volition, and are therefore, agreeably to the fore- going doctrine mistaken for realities. Numberless other illustrations of the same general fact occur to me ; but the following is, 1 think, one of the most striking. I mention it, in preference to the rest, as it appears to me to connect the doctrine in question with some principles which are now universally admitted among philosophers. The distinction between the original and the acquired perceptions of sight, is familiarly known to every one who has the slightest acquaint- * It may appear to some readers rather trifling to add, and yet to others the re- mark may not be altogether superfluous, that it is not my intention to insinuate by the foregoing illustrations, that the relation between perception and imagina- tion has the most distant analogy to that between the perception of the object, and the perception of its optical image- chap. III.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 77 anee with the elements of optics. That this sense, prior to experience, conveys to us the notion of extension in two dimensions only, and that it gives us no information concerning the distances at which objects are placed from the eye, are propositions which nobody, I presume, in the present state of science, will be disposed to controvert. In what man- ner we are enabled, by a comparison between the perceptions of sight and those of touch, to extend the province of the former sense to a vari- ety of qualities, originally perceived by the latter sense only, optical writers have explained at great length ; but it is not necessary for my present purpose to enter into any particular details with repect to their reasonings on the subject. It is sufficient for me to remark, that, accord- ing to the received doctrine, the original perceptions of sight become, in consequence of experience, signs of the tangible qualities of external objects, and of the distances at which they are placed from the organ; and that, although the knowledge we obtain, in this manner, of these qualities and distances, seems, from early and constant habits, to be an instantaneous perception ; yet, in many cases, it implies an exercise of the judgment, being founded on a comparison of a variety of different circumstances. From these principles, it is an obvious consequence, that the know- ledge we obtain by the eye, of the tangible qualities of bodies, involves the exercise of conception, according to the definition of that power which has already been given. In ordinary discourse, indeed, we as- cribe this knowledge, on account of the instantaneousness with which it is obtained, to the power of perception ; but if the common doctrine on the subject be just, it is the result of a complex operation of the mind; comprehending, first, the perception of those qualities, which are the proper and original objects of sight ; and, secondly, the con- ception of those tangible qualities, of which the original perceptions of sight are found from experience to be the signs. The notions therefore we form, by means of the eye, of the tangible qualities of bodies, and of the distances of these objects from the organ, are mere conceptions; strongly, and indeed indissolubly, associated, by early and constant ha- bit, with the original perceptions of sight. When we open our eyes on a magnificent prospect, the various dis- tances at which all its different parts are placed from the eye, and the immense extent of the whole scene before us*, seem to be perceived as immediately, and as instantaneously by the mind, as the coloured sur- face whichis painted on the retina. The truth, however, unquestion- ably is, that this variety of distance, and this immensity of extent, are not objects of sense, but of conception ; and the notions we form of them when our eyes are open, differ from those we should form of them with our eyes shut, only in this, that they are kept steadily in the view of the mind, by being strongly associated with the sensations of colour, and with the original perceptions of sight.—This observation will be the more readily admitted, if it be considered, that, by a skilful imitation of a natural landscape in a common shew-box, the mind may be led to form the same notions of variety of distance, and even of immense ex- tent, as if the original scene were presented to our senses : and that, al- though* iu this case, we have a speculative conviction that the sphere of our vision only extends to a few inches, yet so strong is the associa- tion between the original perceptions of sight, and the conceptions 78 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSIHY [chap. III. which they habitually produce, that it is not possible for us, by any ef- fort of our will, to prevent these conceptions from taking place. From these observations it appears, that when the conception; of the mind are rendered steady and permanent, by being strongly associated with any sensible impression, they command our belief no less than our actual perceptions; and, therefore, if it were possible for us, with our eyes shut, to keep up for a length of time, the conception of any sensi- ble object, we should, as long as this effort continued, believe that the object was present to our senses. It appears to me to be no slight confirmation of these remarks, that although, in the dark, the illusions of imagination are much more liable to be mistaken for realities, than when their momentary effects on the belief are continually checked andcorrected by the objects which the light of day presents to our perception, yet, even total darkness is not so alarming to a person impressed with the vulgar stories of apparitions, as a faint and doubtful twilight, which affords to the conceptious an op- portunity of fixing and prolonging their existence, by attaching them- selves to something which is obscurely exhibited to the eye.—In like manner, when we look through a fog, we are frequently apt to mistake a crow for a man : and the conception we have, upon such an occasion, of the human figure, is much more distinct, and much more steady, than it would be possible for us to form, if we had no sensible object before us ; in so much that when, on a more attentive observation, the crow shrinks to its own dimensions, we find it impossible, by any effort, to conjure up the phantom which a moment before we seemed to per- ceive. If these observations are admitted, the effects which exhibitions of fictitious distress produce on the mind, will appear less wonderful than they are supposed to be. During the representation of a tragedy, I ac- knowledge, that we have a general conviction that the whole is a fic- tion, but, I believe, it will be found, that the violent emotions which are sometimes produced by the distresses of the stage, take their rise, in most cases, from a momentary belief, that the distresses are real. I say, in most cases, because 1 acknowledge that independently of any such belief, there is something contagious in a faithful expression of any of the passions. The emotions produced by a tragedy are, upon this supposition, somewhat analogous to the dread we feel when we look down from the battlement of a tower.* In both cases, we have a general conviction, * With respect to the dread which we feel in looking down from the battle- ment of a tower, it is curious to remark the effects of habit in gradually destroy- ing it. The manner in which habit operates in this case, seems to be by giving us a command over our thoughts, so as to enable us to withdraw our attention from the precipice before us, and direct it to any other object at pleasure. It is thus that the mason and the sailor not only can take precautions for their own safety, but remain completely masters of themselves in situations where other men, en- grossed with their imaginary danger, would experience a total suspension of their faculties. Any strong passion, which occupies the mind, produces, for the mo- ment, the same effect with habit. A person alarmed with the apprehension of fire, has been known to escape from the top of a house, by a path v. hich, at another time, he would have considered as impracticable; and soldiers, in mounting a breach, are said to have sometimesTound their way to the enemy, by a route which appeared inaccessible after their violent passions had subsided. Sect I.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 79 that there is no ground for the feelings we experience, but the momen- tary influences of imagination are so powerful as to produce these feel- ings, before reflection has time to come to our relief. CHAPTER FOURTH. OF ABSTRACTION. SECTION I. General observations on this Faculty of the Mind. |_ he origin of appellatives, or, in other words, the origin of those clas- ses of objects which, in the schools, are called genera and species, has been considered by some philosophers as one of the most difficult pro- blems in metaphysics. The account of it which is given by Mr. Smith, in his Dissertation on the Origin of Languages, appears to me to be equally simple and satisfactory. " The assignation" (says he) " of particular names to denote parti- " cular objects ; that is, the institution of nouns substantive, would pro- " bably be one of the firet steps towards the fi rmation of Language. " The particular cave, whose covering sheltered the savage from the iC weather : the particular tree, whose fruit relieved his hunger ; the '•' particular fountain, whose water allayed his thirst; would first be de- " nominated by the words, cave, tree, fountain ; or by whatever other " appellations he might think proper, in that primitive jargon, to mark " them. Afterwards, when the more enlarged experience of this savage " had led him to observe, and his necessary occasions obliged him to " make mention of, other caves, and other trees, and other fountains ; " he would naturally bestow upon each of those new objects, the same " name by which he had been accustomed to express the similar object "" he was first acquainted with. And thus, those words, which were ori- " ginally the proper names of individuals, would each of them insensi- (i bly become the conncon name of a multitude "* " It is this application" (he continues) " of the name of an indivi- " dual, to a great number of objects, whose resemblance naturally re- * The same account of the progress of the mind in the formation of genera, is given by the Abbe de Condillac. " Un enfant appelle du nom d'Arbre le premier arbre que nous lui montrons. Un second arbre qu'il voit ensuite lui rapelle la meme idee ; il lui donne le meme nom ; de meme a un troisieme, a un quatrieme, et voila le mot d"1 Arbre donne d'a- bord a un individu, qui devient pour lui un nom de classe ou de genre, une idee abstraite qui comprend tons les arbres en general." 80 ELEMENTS OF IHE PHILOSOPHY [c/lUjt. IV. "calls the idea of that individual, and of the name which expresses it, '■ that seems originally to have given occasion to the formation of those " classes, and assortments, which, in the schools, are called genera, and " species ; and of which the ingenious and eloquent Rosseau fi ids him- " self so much at a loss to account for the origin. What constitutes a " species, is merely a number of objects, bearing n certain degree of re- " semblance to one another; and on that account, denominated by a " single appellation, which may be applied to express any one of " them.'** This view of the natural progress of the mind, in forming classifica- tions of external objects, receives some illustration from a fact mention- ed by Captain Cook in his account of a small island railed Wateeoo, which he visited in sailing from New-Zealand to the Friendly Islands. *' The inhabitants," says he, " were afraid to come near our cows and " horses, nor did they form the least conception of their nature. But " the sheep and goats did not surpass the limits of their ideas ; for they " gave us to understand that they knew them to be birds. It will ap- tl pear,'* he adds, " rather incredible, that human ignorance could ever " make so strange a mistake, there not being the mo>t distant simili- " tude between a sheep or a goat, and any winged animal But these "people seemed to know nothing of the existence of any otru-r lai.d " animals, besides hogs, dogs, and birds. Ou: sheep and goals they " could see, were very different creatures from the two first, and thcre- " fore'they inferred that they must belong to the latter class, in which "they knew that there is a considerable variety < f species."—I w< uld add to Cook's very judicious remarks, that the mistake of these island- ers probably did not arise from their considering a sheep or a goat as bearing a more striking resemblance to a bird, than to the two clashes of quadrupeds with which they were acquainted *. but to the want of a ge- neric word, such as quadruped, comprehending these two species; which men in their situation vvould no more be led to form, than a per- son who had only seen one individual of each species, would think of an appellative to express both, instead of applying a proper name to each. In consequence of the variety of birds, it appears, that they had a gene- ric name comprehending all of them, to which it was not unnatural for them to refer any new animal they met with. The classification of different objects supposes a power of attending to some of their qualities or attributes, without attending to the rest ; for no two objects are to be found without some specific difference ; and no assortment or arrangement can be formed among things not per- fectly alike, but by losing sight cf their distinguishing peculiarities, and limiting the attention to those attributes which belong to them in com- mon. Indeed, without this power of attending separately to things which our senses present to us in a stale of union, we never could have had any idea of number ; for, before we can consider differeut objects as forming a multitude, it is necessary that we should be able to apply to all of them one common name; or, in other words, that we should reduce them all to the same genus. The various objects, for example, animate and inanimate, which are, at this moment, before me, 1 may * Dissertation on the Origin of Languages, annexed to Mr. Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments. Boston edition, vol. ii. p. 217, &c. SCCt. I.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 81 class and number in a variety of different ways, according to the view of them that I choose to take. I may reckon successively the number of sheep, of cows, of horses, of elms, of oaks, of beeches; or I may first reckon the number of animals, and then the number of trees ; or I may at once reckon the number of all the organized substances which my senses present to me. But whatever be the principle on which my classification proceeds, it is evident, that the objects numbered together, must be considered in those respects only in which they agree with each other; and that, if I had no power of separating the com- binations of sense, I never could have conceived them as forming a plurality. This power of considering certain qualities or attributes of an ob- ject apart from the rest; or, as I would rather choose to define it, the power which the understanding has, of separating the combinations which are presented to it, is distinguished by logicians by the name of abstraction. It has been supposed by some philosophers, (with what probability I shall not now inquire,) to form the characteristical attri- bute of a rational nature. That it is one of the most important of all our faculties, and very intimately connected with the exercise of our reasoning powers, is beyond dispute. And, I flatter myself, it will ap- pear from the sequel of this chapter, how much the proper manage- ment of it conduces to the success of our philosophical pursuits, and of our general conduct in life. The subserviency of Abstraction to the power of Reasoning, and also its subserviency to the exertions of a Poetical or Creative Imagination, shall be afterwards fully illustrated. At present, it is sufficient for my purpose to remark, that as abstraction is the ground work of classifica- tion, without this faculty of the mind we should have been perfectly in- capable of general speculation, and all our knowledge must necessarily have been limited to individuals: and that some of the most useful branches of science, particularly the different branches of mathematics, in which the very subjects of our reasoning are abstractions of the un- derstanding, could never have possibly had an existence. With respect to the subserviency of this faculty to poetical imagination, it is no less obvious, that, as the poet is supplied with all his materials by expe- rience ; and as his province is limited to combine and modify things which really exist, so as to produce new wholes of his own ; so every exertion which he thus makes of his powers, presupposes the exercise of abstraction in decomposing and separating actual combinations.— And it was on this account, that, in the chapter on Conception, I was led to make a distinction between that faculty, which is evidently sim- ple and uncompo>.nded, and the power of Imagination, whh-h (at least in the sense in which I employ the word in these inquiries; is the result of a combination of various other powers- I have introduced these remarks, in order to point out a difference between the abstractions which are subservient to reasoning, and those which are subservient to imagination. And, ii I am not mistaken, it is a distinction which has not been sufficiently attended to by some wri- ters of eminence. In every instance in which imagination is employed in forming new wholes, by decompounding and combining the percep- tions of sense, it is evidently necessary that the soet or the painter should be able to state to himself the circumstances abstracted, as sepa- VOL. I. H 8? ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. rate objects of conception- But this is by no means requisite in every case in which abstraction is subservient to the power of reasoning ; for it frequently happens, that we can reason concerning one quality or property of an object abstracted from the rest, while, at the same time, we find it is impossible to conceive it separately. Thus, I can reason concerning extension and figure, without any reference to colour: al- though it may be doubted, if a person possessed of sight can make ex- tension and figure steady objects of conception, without connecting with them one colour or another. Nor is this always owing (as it is in the instance now mentioned) merely to the association of ideas; for there are cases, in which we can reason concerning things separately, which it is impossible for us to suppose any being so constituted as to con- ceive apart. Thus, we can reason concerning length, abstracted from any other dimension; although, surely, no understanding can make length, without breadth, an object of conception. And, by the way, this leads me to take notice of an error, which mathematical teachers are apt to commit, in explaining the first principles of geometry. By dwelling long on Euclid's first definitions, they lead the student to sup- pose that they relate to notions which are extremely mysterious, and to strain his powers in fruitless attempts to conceive, what cannot possibly be made an object of conception. If these definitions were omitted, or very slightly touched upon, and the attention at once directed to geo- metrical reasonings, the student would immediately perceive, that al- though the lines in the diagrams are really extended in two dimensions, yet that the demonstrations relate only to one of them ; and that the human understanding has the faculty of reasoning concerning things separately, which are always presented to us, both by our powers of perception and conception, in a state of union. Such abstractions, in truth, are familiar to the most illiterate of mankind ; and it is in this very way that they are insensibly formed. When a tradesman speaks of the length of a room, in contradistinction to its breadth ; or when he speaks of the distance between any two objects, he forms exactly the same abstraction, which is referred to by Euclid in his second defini- tion ; and which most of his commentators have thought it necessary to illustrate by prolix metaphysical disquisitions. I shall only observe farther, with respect to the nature and province of this faculty of the mind, that notwithstanding its essential subser- viency to every act of classification, yet it might have been exercised, although we had only been acquainted with one individual object___ Although, for example, we had never seen but one rose, we mght still have been able to attend to its colour, without thinking of its other pro- perties. This has led some philosophers to suppose, that another fa- culty besides abstraction, to which they have given the name of gene- ralization, is necessary to account for the formation of genera and spe- cies : and they have endeavoured to shew, that although generalization without abstraction is impossible; yet that we might have been so formed, as to be able to abstract, without being capable of generalizing. The grounds of this opinion it is not necessary for me to examine, lot any of the purposes which I have at present in view. sect. Ii.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. S3 SECTION II. Of the Objects of our Thoughts, when we employ general Terms. From the account which was given in a former chapter, of the com- mon theories of perception, it appears to have been a prevailing opinion among philosophers, that the qualities of external objects are perceived by means of images or species transmitted to the mind by the organs of sense ; an opinion of which I already endeavoured to trace the origin, from certain natural prejudices suggested by the phenomena of the ma- terial world. The same train of thinking has led them to suppose that, in the case of all our other intellectual operations, there exist in the mind certain ideas distinct from the mind itself; and that these ideas are the objects about which our thoughts are employed. When I re- collect, for example, the appearance of an absent friend, it is supposed that the immediate object of my thought is an idea of my friend ; which I at first received by my senses, and which I have been enabled to re- tain in the mind by the faculty of memory. When 1 form to myself an imaginary combination by an effort of poetical invention, it is supposed, in like manner, that the parts which I combine, existed previously in the mind : and furnish the materials on which it is the province of ima- gination to operate. It is to Dr. Reid we owe the important remark, that all these notions are wholly hypothetical; that it is impossible to produce a shadow of evidence in support of them ; and that, even al- though we were to admit their truth, they would not render the pheno- mena in question more intelligible. According to his principles, there- fore, we have no ground for supposing, that, in any one operation of the mind, there exists in it an object distinct from the mind itself; and all the common expressions which involve such a supposition are to be considered as unmeaning circumlocutions, which serve only to disguise from us the real history of the intellectual phenomena.* * In order to prevent misapprehensions of Dr. Reid's meaning, in his reasonings against the ideal theory, it may be necessary to explain,, a little more fully than I have done in the text, in what sense he calls in question the existence of ideas ; for the meaning which this word is employed to convey in popular discourse, dif- fers widely from that which is annexed to it by the philosophers whose opinion he controverts. This explanation I shall give in his own words. _ " In popular language, idea signifies the same thing as conception, apprehen- sion, notion. To have an idea of any thing, is to conceive it. To have a distinct idea, is to conceive it distinctly. To have no idea of it, is not to conceive it at all. When the word idea is taken in this popular sense, no man can possibly doubt whether he has ideas.'' . . " According to the philosophical meaning of the word idea, it does not signify that act of the mind which we call thought, or conception, but some object of thought. Of these objects of thought called ideas, different sects of philosophers have given very different accounts.'' « Some have held them to be self-existent; others to be in the divine mind; others in our own minds ; and others in the brain, or sensorium." p. 213. " The Peripatetic system of species and phantasms, as well as the Platonic system of ideas, is grounded upon this principle, that in every kind of thought, there must be some object that really exists; in every operation of the mind, something to work upon. Whether this immediate object be called an idea with Plato, or a phantasm or species with Aristotle; whether it be eternal and un- created, or produced by the impressions of external objects, is of no consequence in the present argument." Ibid. p. 338. u LLtMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. We are at a loss to know," (says this excellent philosopher,) " how 1 we perceive distast objects ; how we remember things past; how wc "imagine things that have no existence. Ideas in the mind seem to "account for all these operations; they are all by the means of ideas "reduced to one operation ; to a kind of feeling, or immediate percep- tion of things present, and in contact wilh the percipient; and feeling "is an operation so familiar, that we think it needs no explanation, but "may serve to explain other operations.'" " But this feeling, or immediate perception, is as difficult to be com- " prehended, as the things which we pretend to explain by it. Two " things may be in contact, without any feeling or perception ; there " must therefore be in the percipient, a power to feel or to perceive.— " How this power is produced, and how it operates, is quite beyond "the reach of our knowledge. As little can we know, whether this '' power must be limited to things present, and in contact with us.— '■ Neither can any man pretend to prove that the Being who gave us " the power to perceive things present, may not give us the power to ''perceive things distant, to remember things past, and to conceive •' things that never existed."'* In another part of his work, Dr. Reid has occasion to trace the origin of the prejudice which has led philosophers to suppose, that, in all the operations of the understanding, there must be an object of thought, which really exists while we think of it. His remarks on this subject, which are highly ingenious and satisfactory, are contained in his account of the different theories concerning conception.! As in all the ancient metaphysical systems it was taken for granted, (probably from the analogy of our external perceptions,) that every ex- ertion of thought implies the existence of an object distinct from the thinking being; it naturally occurred, as a very curious question ; What is the immediate object of our attention, when we are engaged in any general speculation ? or, in other words, what is the nature of the idea corresponding to a general term ? When I think of any particular ob- ject which 1 have formerly perceived, such as a particular friend, a particular tree, or a particular mountain, I can comprehend what is meant by a picture or representation of such objects; and therefore the explanation, given by the ideal theory, of that act of the mind which we formerly called Conception, if not perfectly satisfactory, is at least not wholly unintelligible. But what account shall we give " So much is this opinion fixed in the minds of philosophers, that, I doubt not but it will appear to most a very strange paradox, or rather a contradiction, that men should think without ideas. But this appearance of contradiction, arises from the ambiguity of the word idea. If the idea of a thing means only the thought of it, which is the most common meaning of the word, to think without ideas, is to think without thought; which is undoubtedly a contradiction, lint an idea, according to the definition given of it by philosophers, is not thought, but an object of thought, which really exists, and is perceived," &c. Ibid. p. 390. I have only to add, that when in this work, I make use of the word idea in sta- ting my own opinions, I employ it uniformly in the popular sense, and not in the philosophical sense, as now explained; it would be better, perhaps, to avoid it altogether; but I have found it d.fficult to do so, without adopting unusual modes of expression. 1 flatter myself that I have used it with due caution. * Essays on the Intellectual Powers, p. 214. f Ibid. p. 378. SCCt. II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 85 upon the principles of this theory, of the objects of my thoughts, when I employ the words, friend, tree, mountain, as generic terms ? For, that all the things I have ever perceived are individuals, and consequently, that the ideas denoted by general words, (if such ideas exist,) are not copied from any originals that have fallen under my observation, is not only self-evident, but almost an identical proposition. In answer to this question, the Platonists, and, at a still earlier period, the Pythagoreans, taught, that, although these universal ideas are not copied from any objects perceivable by sense, yet, lhat they have an existence independent of the human mind and are no more to be con- founded with the understanding, of which they are the proper objects, than material things are to be confounded with our powers of external perception ; that as all the individuals which compose a genus, must pos- sess something in common ; and as it is in consequence of this, that they belong to that genus, and are distinguishable by the same name, this common thing forms the essence of each, and is the object of the un- derstanding, when we reason concerning the genus. They maintained also, that this common essence,* notwithstanding its inseparable union with a multitude of different individuals, is in itself one, and indivisible. On most of these points, the philosophy of Aristotle seems to have coincided very nearly with that of Plato. The language, however, which these philosophers employed on this subject, was different, and gave to their doctrines the appearance of a wider diversity than proba- bly existed between their opinions. While Plato was led, by his pas- sion for the marvellous and the mysterious, to insist on the incompre- hensible union of the same idea or essence with a number of individu- als, without multiplication or division,! Aristotle, more cautious, and aiming at greater perspicuity, contented himself with saying, that all individuals are composed of matter and form and that it is in conse- quence of possessing a common form, lhat different individuals belong to the same genus; But they both agreed, that, as the matter, or the individual natures of objects, were perceived by sense, so the general idea, or essence, or form, was perceived by the intellect; and that, as the attention of the vulgar was chiefly engrossed with the former, so the latter furnished to the philosopher the materials of his speculations. The chief difference between the opinions of Plato arid Aristotle on the subject of ideas, related to the mode of their existence. That the matter of which all things are made, existed from eternity, was a prin- * In this very imperfect sketch of the opinions of the ancients concerning uni- versals, I have substituted, instead of the word idea, the word essence, as better fitted to convey to a modern reader the true import of Plato's expressions. The word essentia is said to have been first employed by Cicero ; and it was afterwards adopted by the schoolmen, in the same sense in which the Platonists used the word idea. See Dr. Reid's Essays on the Intellectual Powers, page 473. f " The idea of a thing,'' says Plato, " is that which makes one of the many; which, preserving the unity and integrity of its own nature, runs through and mixes with things infinite in number; and yet, however multiform it may appear, is always the same : so that by it we find out and discriminate the thing, whatever shapes it may assume, and under whatever disguise it may conceal itself.''—Pla- to in Puilebo, (quoted by the author of the Origin and Progress of Lanruape, vol. i. p. 100, 2d edit.) 86 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. ciple which both admitted ; but Plato farther taught, lhat, of every species of things, there is an idea or form which also existed from eter- nity, and that this idea is the exemplar or model according to which the individuals of the species were made; whereas Aristotle held, that, although matter may exist without form, yet that forms could not exist without matter.* The doctrine of the Stoics concerning universals differed widely from those both of Plato and Aristotle, and seems to have approached to a speculation which is commonly supposed to be of a more recent origin, and which an eminent philosopher of the present age has ranked among the discoveries which do the greatest honour to modern genius.t Whether this doctrine of the Stoics coincided entirely with that of the Nominalists, (whose opinions I shall afterwards endeavour to explain,) or whether it did not resemble more a doctrine maintained by another sect of schoolmen called Conccptualists, I shall not inquire. The de- termination of this question is interesting only to men of erudition, for the knowledge we possess of this part of the Stoical philosophy, is loo imperfect to assist us in the farther prosecution of the argument, or even to diminish the merit of those philosophers who have, in modern times, been led to similar conclusions.^ As it is not my object, in this work, to entsr into historical details, any farther than is necessary for illustrating the subjects of which I treat, I shall pass over the various attempts which were made by the Eclectic philosophers, (a sect which arose at Alexandria about the be- ginning of the third century) to reconcile the doctrines of Plato and Aristotle concerning ideas. The endless difficulties, it would appear, to which their speculations led, induced, at last, the more cautious and * Ir. this account of the difference between Plato and Aristotle on the subject of ideas, I have chiefly followed Brucker, whose very laborious researches with respect to this article of the history of philosophy are well known. In stating the distinction, however, I have confined myself to as general terms as possible ; as the subject is involved in much obscurity, and has divided the opinions of very eminent writers. The reader will find the result of Brucker's inquiries, in his own words, in Note (F.) The authority of Brucker, in this instance, has the more weight with me, as it coincides in the most material respects with that of Dr. Reid. Sec his Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, and the conclusion of his Inquiry into the Human Mind. A very different account of Aristotle's doctrine, in those particulars in which it is commonly supposed to differ from that of Plato, is given by two modern wri- ters of great learning, whose opinions 2re justly entitled to much respect, from their familiar acquaintance with Aristotle's later Commentators of the Alexan- drian School. See Origin and Progress of Language, vol. i. and Hahius's Hermes. It is of no consequence, for any of the purposes which I have at present in view, what opinion we form on this much controverted point of philosophical history. In so far as the ideal theory was an attempt to explain the manner in which our general speculations are carried on, it is agreed on all hands, that the doctrine of Plato and Aristotle were essentially the same; and accordingly, what I have said on that subject, coincides entirely with a passage which the reader will find in "Origin and Progress of Language," vol. i. p. 38, 2d edit. f Treatise of Human Nature, book i. part i. sect. 7. t See Note (G.) $ JOrJ ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. tfords, the difference between a particular conclusion, and a general theorem. The difference between the intellectual processes of the vulgar and of the philosopher, is perfectly analogous to that between the two states of the algebraical art before and after the time of Vieta : the general terms which are used in the various sciences, giving to those who can employ them with correctness and dexterity, the same sort of advan- tage over the uncultivated sagacity of the bulk of mankind, which the expert algebraist possesses over the arithmetical accomptant. If the foregoing doctrine be admitted as just, it exhibits a view of the utility of language, which appears to me to be peculiarly striking and beautiful; as il shews that the same faculties which, without the use of signs, must necessarily have been limited to the consideration of indi- vidual objects and particular events, are, by means of signs, fitted to em- brace, without effort, those comprehensive theorems, to the discovery of which, in detail, the united efforts of the whole human race would have been unequal. The advantage our animal strength acquires by the use of mechanical engines, exhibits but a faint image of that increase of our intellectual capacity which we owe to language.—It is this in- crease of our natural powers or comprehension, which seems to be the principal foundation of the pleasure we receive from the discovery of general theorems. Such a discovery gives us at once the command of an infinite variety of particular truths, and communicates to the mind a sentiment of its own power, not unlike to what we feel when we con- template the magnitude of those physical effects, of which we have ac- quired the command by our mechanical contrivances. It may perhaps appear, at first, to be a farther consequence of the principles I have been endeavouring to establish, that the difficulty of philosophical discoveries is much less than is commonly imagined ; but the truth is, it only follows from them, that this difficulty is of a different nature, from what we are apt to suppose on a superficial view of the subject. To employ, with skill, the very delicate instrument which na- ture has made essentially subservient to general reasoning, and to guard against the errors which result from an injudicious use of it, require an uncommon capacity of patient attention, and a cautious circumspection in conducting our various intellectual processes, which can only be ac- quired by habits of philosophical reflection. To assist and direct us in making this acquisition ought to form the most important branch of a rational logic; a science of far more extensive utility, and of which the principles lie much deeper in the philosophy of the human mind, than the trifling art which is commonly dignified with that name. The branch in particular to which the foregoing observations more immedi- ately relate, mist forever remain in its infancy, till a most difficult and important desideratum in the history of the mind is supplied, by an ex- planation of the gradual steps, by which it acquires the use of the vari- ous classes of words which compose the language of a cultivated and en- lightened people. Of some of the errors in reasoning to which we are exposed by an incautious use of words, I took notice in the preceding section, and 1 shall have occasion afterwards to treat the same subject more in detail in a subsequent part of my work. Sect. VI.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 109 SECTION VI. Of the Errors to which we are liable in Speculation, and in the Conduct of Affairs, in consequence of a rash Application of general Principles. It appears sufficiently from the reasonings which I offered in the pre- ceding Section, how important are the advantages which the philosopher acquires, by quitting the study of particulars, and directing his attention to general principles. I flatter myself it appears farther, from the same reasonings, that it is in consequence of the use of language alone, that the human mind is rendered capable of these comprehensive specula- tions. In order, however, to proceed with safety in the use of general prin- ciples, much caution and address are necessary, both in establishing their truth, and in applying them to practice. Without a proper atten- tion to the circumstances by which their application to particular cases must be modified, they will be a perpetual source of mistake, and of dis- appointment, in the conduct of affairs, however rigidly just they may be in themselves, and however accurately we may reason from them. If our general principles happen to be false, they will involve us in errors, not only of conduct but of speculation ; and our errors will be the more numerous, the more comprehensive the principles are on which we proceed. To illustrate these observations fully, would lead to a minuteness of disquisition inconsistent with my general plan, and I shall therefore, at present, confine myself to such remarks as appear to be of most essen- tial importance. And, in the first place, it is evidently impossible to establish solid ge- neral principles, without the previous study of particulars ; in other words, it is necessary to begin with the examination of individual objects, and individual events, in order to lay a ground-work of accurate classifi- cation, and for a just investigation of the laws of nature. It is in this way only that we can expect to arrive at general principles, which may be safely relied on, as guides to the knowledge of particular truths: and unless our principles admit of such a practical application, however beautiful they may appear to be in theory, they are of far less value than the limited acquisitions of the vulgar. The truth of these remarks is now so universally admitted, and is indeed so obvious in itself, that it would be superfluous to multiply words in supporting them; and I should scarcely have thought of stating fhem in this Chapter, if some of the most celebrated philosophers of antiquity had not been led to dis- pute them, in consequence of the mistaken opinions which they enter- tained concerning the nature of universals. Forgetting that genera and species are mere arbitrary creations which the human mind forms, by withdrawing the attention from the distinguishing qualities of objects, and giving a common name to their resembling qualities, they conceived universals to be real existences, or (as they expressed it) to be the es- sences of individuals ; and flattered themselves with the belief, that by directing their attention to these essences in the first instance, they might be enabled to penetrate the secrefs of the universe, without sub- mitting to the study of nature in detail, These errors, which were 110 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. common to the l'lalonists and the Peripatetics, and which both of them seem to have adopted from the Pythagorean school, contributed, per- haps, more than any thing else, to retard the progress of the ancients in physical knowledge. The late learned Mr. Harris is almost the only author of the present age who has ventured to defend this plan of phi- losophizing, in opposition to that which has been so successfully follow- ed by the disciples of lord Bacon. " The Platonists," says he, '• considering science as something ascer- " tained, definite, and steady, would admit nothing to lie ils object which " was vague, indefinite, and passing. For this reason they excluded all '• individuals or objects of sense, and (as Ammouius expresses it) raised " themselves in their contemplations from beings particular to beings " universal, and which, from their own nature, were eternal and defi- " nite."—" Consonant to this was the advice of Plato, with respect to " the progress of our speculations and inquiries, to descend from those " higher genera, which include many subordinate species down to the " lowest rank of species, those which include only individuals. Put here '*' it was his opinion, that our inquiries should stop, and. as to individu- "als, let them wholly alene; because of these there could not possibly " be any science.''* " Such," continues this author,li was the method of ancient philoso- " phy. The fashion, at present, appears to be somewhat altered, and " the business of philosophers to be little else than the collecting from " every quarter, into voluminous records, an infinite number of sensible, " particular, and unconnected facts, the chief effect of which is to excite " our admiration."—In another part of his works the same author ob- serves, that '* the mind, truly wise, quitting the study of particulars, as " knowing their multitude to be infinite and incomprehensible, turns its " intellectual eye to what is general and comprehensive, and through " generals learns to see, and recognize whatever exists."t If we abstract from these obvious errors of the ancient philosophers, with respect to the proper order to be observed in our inquiries, and only suppose them to end where the Platonists said that they should begin, the magnificent encomiums they bestowed on the utility of those com- prehensive truths which form the object of science (making allowance for the obscure and mysterious terms in which they expressed them) can scarcely be regarded as extravagant. It is probable that from a few accidental instances of successful investigation, they had been struck with the wonderful effect of general principles in increasing the intellectual power of the human mind ; and, misled by that impatience in study of particulars which is so often connected with the consciousness of superior ability, they laboured to persuade themselves, that, by a life devoted to abstract meditation, such principles might be rendered as immediate objects of intellectual perception, as the individuals which compose the material world are of our external senses. By connecting this opinion with their other doctrines concerning universals, they were unfortunately enabled to exhibit it in so mysterious a form, as not only to impose on themselves, but to perplex the understandings of all the learned in Europe, for a long succession of ages. * Harms*-* Three Treatises, pages 341, 342. flbid. p. 227- Sect. VI.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. Ill The conclusion to which we are led by the foregoing observations, is, that the foundation of all human knowledge must be laid in the exa- mination of particular objects and particular facts ; and that it is only as far as our general principles are resolvable into these primary ele- ments, that they possess either truth or utility. It must not, however, be understood to be implied in ihis conclusion, that all our knowledge must ultimately rest on our own proper experience. If this were the case, the progress of science, and the progress of human improvement, must have been wonderfully retarded ; for, if it had been necessary for each individual to form a classification of objects, in consequence of ob- servations and abstractions of his own, and to infer from the actual ex- amination of particular facts, the general truths on which his conduct proceeds, human affairs would at this day remain nearly in the same state to which they were brought by the experience of the first genera- tion. In fact, this is very nearly the situation of the species in all those parts of the world, in which the existence of the race depends on the separate efforts which each individual makes, in procuring for himself the necessaries of life ; and in which, of consequence, the habits and acquirements cf each individual must be the result of his own personal experience. In cultivated society, one of the first acquisitions which children make, is the use of language ; by which means they are fami- liarized, from their earliest years, to the consideration of classes of ob- jects, and of general truths, and before lhat time of life at which the savage is possessed of the knowledge necessary for his own preservation, are enabled to appropriate to themselves the accumulated discoveries of ages. Notwithstanding, however, the stationary condition in which the race must of necessity continue, prior to the separation of arts and pro- fessions, the natural disposition of the mind to ascend from particular truths to general conclusions, could not fail to lead individuals, even in ihe rudest state of society, collect the results of their experience, for their own instruction and that of others. But, without the use of gene- ral terms, the only possible way of communicating such conclusions would be by means of some particular example, of which the general application was striking and obvious. In other words, the wisdom of such ages will necessarily he expressed in the form of fables or parables, or in the still simpler form of proverbial instances, and not in the sci- entific form of general maxims. In this way, undoubtedly, much useful instruction, both of a prudential and moral kind, might be conveyed : at the same time, it is obvious, that, while general truths continued to be expressed merely by particular exemplifications, they would afford little or no opportunity to one generation to improve on the speculations of another; as no effort of the understanding could combine them to- gether, or employ them as premises, in order to obtain other conclu- sions more remote and comprehensive. For this purpose, it is abso- lutely necessary that the scope or moral of the fable should be separated entirely from its accessary circumstances, and stated in the form of a general proposition. From what has now been said, it appears, how much the progress of human reason, which necessarily accompanies the progress of society, Is owing to the introduction of general terms, and to the use of general "* ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. propositions. In consequence of the gradual improvements which take place in language as an instrument of thought, the classifications both of things and facts with which the infant faculties of each successive race are conversant, are more just and more comprehensive than those of their predecessors: the discoveries which, in one age were confined to the studious and enlightened few, becoming, in the next, the esta- blished creed of the learned, and in the third, forming part of the ele- mentary principles of education. Indeed, among those who enjoy the advantages of early instruction, some of the most remote and wonderful conclusions of the human intellect are, even in infancy, as completely familiarized to the mind, as the most obvious phenomena which the material world exhibits to their senses. If these remarks be just, they open an unbounded prospect of intellec- tual improvement to future ages; as they point out a provision made by nature to facilitate and abridge, more and more, the process of stu- dy, in proportion as the truths to be acquired increase in number. Nor is this prospect derived from theory alone. It is encouraged by the past history of all the sciences; in a more particular manner, by lhat of ma- thematics and physics, in which the state of discovery, and the prevail- ing methods of instruction may, at all times, be easily compared to- gether. In this last observation I have been anticipated by a late emi- nent mathematician, whose eloquent and philosophical statement of the argument cannot fail to carry conviction to those who are qualified to judge of the facts on which his conclusion is founded : " To such of my readers, as may be slow in admitting the possibility '•' of this progressive improvement in the human race, allow me to state, l* as an example, the history of that science in which the advances of "■' discovery are the most certain, and in which they may be measured " with the greatest precision. Those elementary truths of geometry and '< of astronomy which, in India and Egypt, formed an occult science, " upon which an ambitious priesthood founded its influence, were be- "come, in the times of Archimedes and Hipparchus, the subjects of ••' common education in the public schools of Greece. In the last cen- " tury, a few years of study were sufficient for comprehending all that " Archimedes and Hipparchus knew; and, at present, two years em- "ployed under an able teacher, carry the student beyond those con- « elusions, which limited the inquiries of" Leibnitz and of Newton.— i( Let any person reflect on these facts; let hiin follow the immense « chain which connects the inquiries of Euler with those of a Priest of ''Memphis; let him observe, at each epoch, how genius outstrips the " present age, and how it is overtaken by mediocrity in the next; he " will perceive, that nature has furnished us with the means of abridg- " ing and facilitating our intellectual labour, and that there is no reason " for apprehending that such simplifications can ever have an end.— « He will perceive, that at the moment when a multitude of particular " solutions, and of insulated facts, begin to distract the attention, and " to overcharge the memory, the former gradually lose themselves ii; " one general method, and the latter unite in one general law ; and that " these generalizations continually succeeding one to another like the suc- " cessive multiplications of a number by itself, have no other limit, than u lhat infinity which the human faculties are unable to comprehend."* * See Note 'M.> Sect. VII.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 1 V3 SECTION VII. Continuation of the same Subject.—Differences in the Intellectual Characters of Individuals, arising from their different Habits of Abstraction and Generaliza- tion. In mentioning as one of the principal effects of civilization, its ten- dency to familiarize the mind to general terms, and to general proposi- tions, I did not mean to say, that this influence extends equally to all the classes of men in society. Ou the contrary, it is evidently confined, in a great measure, to those who receive a liberal education; while the minds of the lower orders, like those of savages, are so habitually occupied about particular objects and particular events, that, although they are sometimes led, from imitation, to employ general expressions, the use which they make of them is much more the result of memory than judg- ment ; and it is but seldom that they are able to comprehend fully any process of reasoning in which they are involved. It is hardly necessary for me to remark, that this observation, with respect to the incapacity of the vulgar for general speculations, (like all observations of a similar nature,) must be received with some re- strictions. In such a state of society as that in which we live, there is hardly any individual to be found, to whom some general terms, and some general (ruths, are not perfectly familiar; and, therefore, the foregoing conclusions are to be considered as descriptive of those hab- its of thought alone, which are most prevalent in their mind- To abridge the labour of reasoning, and of memory, by directing the attention to general principles, instead of particular truths, is the professed aim of all philosophy; and according as individuals have more or less of the philosophic spirit, their habitual speculations (whatever the nature Of their pursuits may be) will relate to the former, or to the latter, of these objects. There are, therefore, among the men who are accustomed to the ex- ercise of their intellectual powers, two classes, whose habits of thought are remarkably distinguished from each other; the one class compre- hending what we commonly call men of business, or, more properly, men of detail; the other, men of abstraction ; or, in other words, phi- losophers, The advantages which, in certain respects, the latter of these pos- sess over the former, have been already pointed out; but it must not be supposed, that these advantages are always purchased without some inconvenience. As the solidity of our general principles depends on the accuracy of the particular observations into which they are ulti- mately resolvable, so their utility is to be estimated by the practical applications of which they admit: and it unfortunately happens, that the same turn of mind which is favourable to philosophical pursuits, unless it be kept under proper regulation, is extremely apt to disqualify us for applying our knowledge to use, in the exereise of the arts, and in the conduct of affairs. In order to perceive the truth of these remarks, it is almost sufficient to recollect, that as classification, and, of consequence, general reason- vol. i. 15 in ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chip. iv. ing, presuppose the exercise of abstraction, a natural disposition to in- dulge in them, cannot fail to lead the mind to overlook the specific dif- ferences of things, in attending to their common qualities. To succeed, however, in practice, a familiar and circumstantial acquaintance with the particular objects which fall under our observation, is indispensably necessary. But, farther: As all general principles are founded on classifications which imply the exercise of abstraction, it is necessary to regard them, in their practical applications, merely as approximations to the truth ; the defects of which must be supplied by habits acquired by personal experience. In considering, for example, the theory of the mechanical powers, it is usual to simplify the objects cf our conception, by abstract- ing from friction, and from the weight of the different parts of which they are composed. Levers are considered as mathematical lines, perfectly inflexible, and ropes, as mathematical lines, perfectly flexible; and by means of these, and similar abstractions, a subject, which is in itself ex- tremely complicated, is brought within the reach of elementary geome- try. In the theory of politics, we find it necessary to abstract from many of the peculiarities which distinguish different forms of govern- ment from each other, and to reduce them to certain general classes, according to their prevailing tendency. Although all the governments we have ever seen, have had more or less of mixture in their composi- tion, we reason concerning pure monarchies, pure aristocracies, and pure democracies, as if there really existed political establishments cor- responding to our definitions. Without such a classification, it would be impossible for us to fix our attention, amidst the multiplicity of parti- culars which the subject presents to us, or to arrive at any general prin- ciples, which might serve to guide our inquiries in comparing different institutions together. It is for a similar reason, that the speculative farmer reduces the infi- nite variety of soils to a few general descriptions; the physician, the infinite variety of bodily constitutions to a few temperaments; and the moralist, the infinite variety of human characters to a few of the ruling principles of action. Notwithstanding, however, the obvious advantages we derive from these classifications, and the general conclusions to which they lead, it is evidently impossible, that principles, which derive their origin from efforts of abstraction, should apply literally to practice; or, indeed, that they should afford us any considerable assistance in conduct, without a certain degree of practical and experimental skill. Hence it is, that the mere theorist so frequently exposes himself, in real life, to the ridicule of men whom he despises; and in the general estimation of the world, falls below the level of the common drudges in business and the arts. The walk, indeed, of these unenlightened practitioners, must necessarily be limited by their accidental opportunities of experience; but, so far as they go, they operate with facility and success; while the merely spe- culative philosopher, although possessed of principles which enable him to approximate to the truth in an infinite variety of untried cases, and although he sees, with pity, the narrow views of the multitude, and the ludicrous pretensions with which they frequently oppose their trifling successes to his theoretical speculations, finds himself perfectly at a loss, when he is called upon, by the simplest occurrences of ordinary life, to SCCt. VII.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. H5 carry his principles into execution. Hence the origin of that maxim, " which" (as Mr. Hume remarks) " has been so industriously propa- " gated by the dunces of every age, that a man of genius is unfit for " business." In what consists practical or experimental skill, it is not easy to explain completely; but, among other things, it obviously implies a talent for minute and comprehensive and rapid observation ; a memory, at once retentive and ready, in order to present to us accurately, and without reflection, our theoretical knowledge; a presence of mind, not to be disconcerted by unexpected occurrences; and, in some cases, an uncom- mon degree of perfection in the external senses, and in the mechanical capacities of the body. All these elements of practical skill, it is ob- vious, are to be acquired only by habits of active exertion, and by a familiar acquaintance with real occurrences; for, as all the practical principles of our nature, both intellectual and animal, have a reference to particulars, and not to generals, so it is in the active scenes of life alone, and amidst the details of business, that they can be cultivated and improved. The remarks which have been already made, are sufficient to illus- trate the impossibility of acquiring a talent for business, or for any of the practical arts of life, without actual experience. They shew also, that mere experience, without theory, may qualify a man, in certain cases, for distinguishing himself in both. It is not, however, to be ima- gined, that in this way individuals are to be formed for the uncommon, or for the important situations of society, or even for enriching the arts by new inventions; for, as their address and dexterity are founded en- tirely on imitation, or derived from the lessons which experience has suggested to them, they cannot possibly extend to new combinations of circumstances. Mere experience, therefore, can, at best, prepare the mind for the subordinate departments of life; for conducting the estab- lished routine of business, or for a servile repetition in the arts of com- mon operations. In the character of Mr. George Grenville, which Mr. Burke introduc- ed in his celebrated Speech on American Taxation, a lively picture is drawn of the insufficiency of mere experience to qualify a man for new and untried situations in the administration of government. The obser- vations he makes on this subject, are expressed with his usual beauty and felicity of language, and are of so general a nature, that, with some trifling alterations, they may be extended to all the practical pursuits of life. " Mr. Grenville was bred to the law, which is, in my opinion, one of " the first and noblest of human sciences; a science which does more " to quicken and invigorate the understanding, than all the other kinds "of learning put together; but it is not apt, except in persons very " happily born, to open and to liberalize the mind exactly in the same " proportion. Passing from that study, he did not go very largely into " the world, but plunged into business; I mean, into the the business of li office, and the limited and fixed methods and forms established there. " Much knowledge is U> be had, undoubtedly, in that line; and there is " no knowledge which is not valuable. But it may be truly said, that " men too much conversant in office, are rarely minds of remarkable *■ enlargement. Their habits of office are apt to give them a turn to Uti ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. ''think the substance of business not to be much more important, than " the forms in which it is conducted. These forms are adapted to ordi- " nary occasions; and, therefore, persons who are nurtured in offi e. do ,fadmirably well, as long as things go on in their common order; but " when the high roads are broken up, and the waters out, when a new '* and troubled scene is opened, and the file affords no precedent, then " it is, that a greater knowledge of mankind, and a far more extensive '< comprehension of things, is requisite, than ever office gave, or than of '* fice can ever give." Nor is it in new combinations of circumstances alone that general principles assist us in the conduct of affairs; they render the application of our practi'-al skill more unerring, and more perfect. For, as general principles limit the utility of practical skill to supply the imperfections of theory, they diminish the number of cases in which this skill is to be employed; and thus, at once, facilitate its improvement, wherever it is requisite, and lessen the errors to which it is liable, by contracting the field within which it is possible to commit them. It would appear then that there are two opposite extremes into which men are apt to fall, in preparing themselves for the duties of ac- tive life. The one arises from habits of abstraction and generalization carried on to an excess; the other from a minute, an exclusive, and an unenlightened attention to the objects and events which happen to fall under their actual experience. In a perfect system of education, care should be taken to guard against both extremes, and to unite habits of abstraction with habits of business, in such a manner as to enable men to consider things, either in general, or in detail, as the occasion may require. Whichever of these habits may happen to gain an undue ascendant over the mind, it will necessarily produce a character limited in its powers, and fitted only for particular exertions. Hence some of the apparent inconsistencies which we may frequently remark in the intellectual capacities of the same person. One man, from an early indulgence in abstract specula- tion, possesses a knowledge of general principles, and a talent for gene- ral reasoning, united with a fluency and eloquence in the use of general terms, which seem, to the vulgar, to announce abilities fitted for any giv- en situation in life : while in the conduct of the simplest affairs, he ex- hibits every mark of irresolution and incapacity. Another not only acts with propriety and skill, in circumstances which require a minute atten- tion to details, but possesses anacuteness of reasoning, and a facility of expression on all subjects, in which nothing but what is particular is in- volved ; while, on eeneral topics, he is perfectly unable either to reason, or to judge. It is this last turn of mind, which I think we have, in most instances in view, when we speak of good sense, or common sense, in opposition to science and philosophy. Both philosophy and good sense imply the exercise of our reasoning powers; and they differ from each other only, according as these powers are applied to particulars or to generals. It is on good sense (in the acceptation in which I have now explained the term) that the success of men in the inferior walks of life chiefly depends; but, that it does not always indicate a capacity for abstract science, or for general speculation, or for able conduct in situations which require comprehensive views, is matter even of vulgar remark. Sect. VIII.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 117 Although, however, each of these defects has a tendency to limit the utility of the individuals, in whom it is to be found, to certain stations in society, no comparison can be made, in point of original value, between the intellectual capacities of the two classes of men to which they char- acteristically belong. The one is the defect of a vigorous, an ambitious, and a comprehensive genius, improperly directed; the ether, of ah un- derstanding, minute and circumscribed in its views, timid in itsexertions, and formed for servile imitation. Nor is the former defect, (however difficult it may be to remove it when confirmed by long habit,) by any means so incurable as the latter; for it arises, not from original consti- tution, but from some fault in early education; while every tendency to the opposite extreme is more or less characteristical of a mind, useful, indeed, in a high degree, when confined to its proper sphere, but des- tined, by the hand that formed it, to borrow its lights from another. As an additional proof of the natural superiority which men of o-ene- ral views possess over the common drudges in business, it may be far- ther observed, that the habits of inattention incident to the former, arise in part from the little interest which they take in particular objects and particular occurrences, and are not wholly to be ascribed to an incapa- city of attention. When the mind has been long accustomed to the con- sideration of classes of objects and of comprehensive theorems, it can- not, without some degree of effort, descend to that humble walk of ex- perience, or of action, in which the meanest of mankind are on a lev;*l with the greatest In important situations, accordingly, men of the most general views are found not to be inferior to the vulgar in their atten- tion to details; because the objects and occurrences which such situa- tions present, rouse their passions, and interest their curiosity, from the magnitude of the consequences to which they lead. When theoretical knowledge and practical skill are happily combin- ed in the same person, the intellectual power of man appears in its full perfection, and fits him equally to conduct, with a masterly hand, the details of ordinary business, and to contend successfully with the untri- ed difficulties of new and hazardous situations. In conducting the for- mer, mere experience may frequently be a sufficient guide, but experi- ence and speculation must be combined together to prepare us for the latter. "Expert men,'* says Lord Bacon, "can execute and judge of " particulars one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots, and " the marshalling of affairs, come best from those that are learned." SECTION VIII. Continuation of the same Subject.—Use and Abuse of general Principles in Politics.* The foregoing remarks, on the dangers to be apprehended from a rash application of general principles, hold equally with respect to most * The events which happened since the publication of the former edition of this volume in 1792, might have enabled me to confirm ma.:y of the observations in this section, by an appeal to facts still fresh in the recollection of my readers: and in one or two instances by slight verbal corrections, to guard against the pos- sibility of uncandid misinterpretation • but. for various reasons, which it is unne- 118 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chttp. IV. of the practical arts. Among these, however, there is one of far supe- rior dignity to the rest, which, partly on account of its importance, and partly on account of some peculiarities in its nature, seems to be entitled to a more particular consideration. The art I allude to, is that of Le- gislation; an art which differs from all others in some very essential re- spects, and to which, the reasonings in the last Section must be applied with many restrictions. Before proceeding farther, it is necessary for me to premise, that it is chiefly in compliance with common language and common prejudices, that 1 am sometimes led, in the following observations, to contrast theo- ry with experience. In the proper sense of the word Theory, it is so far from standing in opposition to experience, that it implies a knowledge of principles, of which the most extensive experience alone could put us in possession. Prior to the lime of Lord Bacon, indeed, an acquain- tance with facts was not considered as essential to the formation of theo- ries ; and from these ages has descended to us an indiscriminate preju- dice against general principles, even in those cases in which they have been fairly obtained in the way of induction. But not to dispute about words, there are plainly two sets of political reasoners; one of which consider the actual institutions of mankind as the only safe foundation for our conclusions, and think every plan of le- gislation chimerical, which is not copied from one which has already been realized; while the other apprehend that, in many cases, we may reason safely a priori from the known principles of human nature, com- bined with the particular circumstances of the times. The former are commonly understood as contending for experience in opposition to theory; the latter are accused of trusting to theory unsupported by ex- perience: but it ought to be remembered, that the political theorist, if he proceeds cautiously and philosophically, founds his conclusions ulti- mately on experience, no less than the political empiric;—as the astro- nomer, who predicts an eclipse from his knowledge of the principles of the science, rests his expectation of the event on facts which have been previously ascertained by observation, no less than if he inferred it, with- out any reasoning, from his knowledge of a cycle. There is. indeed, a certain degree of practical skill which habits of business alone can give, and without which the most enlightened poli- tician must always appear to disadvantage when he attempts to carry his plans into execution. And as this skill is often (in consequence of the ambiguity of language) denoted by the word Experience, while it is seldom possessed by those men who have most carefully studied the theory of legislation, it has been very generally concluded, that politics is merely a matter of routine, in which philosophy is rather an oh.-tacle to success. The statesman who has been formed among official de- cessary to state at present, I feel it to be a duty which I owe to myself, to send the whole discussion again to the press in its original form. That the doctrine it inculcates is favourable to the good order and tranquillity of society, cannot be disputed : and, as far as I myself am personally interested, I have no wish to vi- tiate the record which it exhibits of my opinions. On some points which are touched upon very slightly here, I have explained my. self more fully, in the fourth section of my Biographical Account of Mr. Smith, read before the Royal Society of Edinburgh in 179.", and published in the third volume of their Transactions-. sCCt. VIII.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 119 tails, is compared to the practical engineer; the speculative legislator, to the theoretical mechanician who has passed his life among books and diagrams. In order to ascertain how far this opinion is just, it may be of use to compare the art of legislation with those practical applications of mechanical principles, by which the opposers of political theories have so often endeavoured to illustrate their reasonings. I. In the first place, then, it may be remarked, that the errors to which we are liable, in the use of general mechanical principles, are owing, in most instances, to the effect which habits of abstraction are apt to have, in withdrawing the attention from those applications of our knowledge, by which alone we can learn to correct the imperfec- tions of theory. Such errors, therefore, are, in a peculiar degree in- cident to men who have been led by natural taste, or by early habits, to prefer the speculations of the closet to the bustle of active life, and to the fatigue of minute and circumstantial observation. In politics, too, one species of principles is often misapplied from an inattention to circumstances; those which are deduced from a few ex- amples of particular governments, and which are occasionally quoted as universal political axioms, which every wise legislator ought to assume as the ground-work of his reasonings. But this abuse of general princi- ples should by no means be ascribed, like the absurdities of the specula- tive mechanician, to over-refinement, and the love of theory; for it arises from weakness, which philosophy alone can remedy, an unen- lightened veneration for maxims which are supposed to have the sanc- tion of time in their favour, and a passive acquiescence in received opi- nions. There is another class of principles, from which political conclusions have sometimes been deduced, aod which, notwithstanding the common prejudice against them, are a much surer foundation for our reasonings : I allude, at present, to those principles which we obtain from an exam- ination of the human constitution, and of the general laws which regu- late the course of human affair;*; principles, which are certainly the re- sult of a much more extensive induction, than any of the inferences that can be drawn from the history of actual establishments. In applying, indeed, such principles to practice, it is necessary (as well as in mechanics) to pay attention to the peculiarities of the case; but it is by no means necessary to pay the same scrupulous attention to minute circumstances, which is essential in the mechanical arts, or in the management of private business. There is even a danger of dwell- ing too much on details, and of rendering the mind incapable of those ab- stract and comprehensive views of human affairs, which can alone furnish the statesman with fixed and certain maxims for the regulation of his conduct. " When a man, (says Mr. Hume) deliberates concerning his "conduct in any particular affair, and forms schemes in politics, trade, " economy, or any business in life, he never ought to draw his argu- " ments too fine, or connect too long a chain of consequences together, " Something is sure to happen, that will disconcert his reasoning, and "' produce an event different from what he expected. But when we " reason upon general subjects, one may justly affirm, that our specula- " lions can scarce ever be too fine, provided they are just; and that the " difference betwixt a common man and a man of genius, is chiefly u seen in the shallowness or depth of the principles upon which they 120 ELEMENTS OF THE PHlLOt and sound, prevail in the gc- "neral course of things, though they may fail in particular cases, and it " h the chief business of philosophers to regard the general course of " things. I may add, that it is also the chief business of politicians; es- ■'pecially in the domestic government of the state, where the public "good, which is, or ought to be, their object, depends on the concur- rence of a multitude of cases, not, as in foreign politics, upon acci- " dents, and chances, and the caprices of a few persons.* II. The difficulties which, in the mechanical arts, limit the applica- lion of general principles, remain invariably the same from age to age: and whatever observations we have made on them in the course of our past experience, lay a sure foundation for future practical skill, and sup- ply, in so far as they reach, the defects of our theories. In the art of government, however, the practical difficulties which occur are of a ve- ry different nature. They do not present to the statesman the same steady subject of examination, which the effects of friction do to the engineer. They arise chiefly from the passions and opinions of men, which are in a state of perpetual change ; and, therefore, the address which is necessary to overcome them depends less on the accuracy of our observations with respect to the past, than on the sagacity of our conjectures with respect to the future. In the present age, more par- ticularly, when the rapid communication, and the universal diffusion of knowledge, by means of the press, render, the situation of political so- cieties essentially different from what it ever was formerly, and secure infallibly, against every accident, the progress of human reason; we may venture to predict, that they are to be the most successful states- men, who, paying all due regard to past experience, search for the rules of their conduct chiefly in the peculiar circumstances of their own times, and in an enlightened anticipation of the future history of mankind. III. In the mechanical arts, if, at any time, we are at a loss about the certainty of a particular fact, we have it always in our power to bring it to the test of experiment. But it is very seldom that we can obtain in this way any useful conclusion in politics: not only because it is difficult to find two cases in which the combinations of circumstan- ces are precisely the same, but because our acquaintance with the po- litical experience of mankind is much more imperfect than is commonly imagined. By far the greater part of what is called matter of fact in politics, is nothing else than theory; and very frequently, in this sci- ence, when we think we are opposing experience to speculation, we are only opposing one theory to another. To be satisfied of the truth of this observation, it is almost sufficient to recollect, how extremely difficult it is to convey, by a general de- scription, a just idea of the actual state of any government. That every such description must necessarily be more or less theoretical, will ap- pear from the following remarks. 1. Of the governments which have hitherto appeared in the history of mankind, few or none have taken their rise from political wisdom. but have been the gradual result offline and experience, of circumstan- ces and emergencies. In process of time, indeed.every government ac- * Political Discourses sect, viil] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 121 quires a systematical appearance; for, although its different parts arose from circuui-tances which may be regarded as accidental and irregular, yet there must exist, among these parts, a certain degree of consistency and analogy. Wherever a government has existed for ages, and men have enjoyed tranquillity under it, it is a proof that its principles are not essentially at variance with each other. Every new institution which was introduced, must have had a certain reference to the laws and usages existing before; otherwise it could not have been permanent in its operation. If any one, contrary to the spirit of the rest, should have occasionally mingled with them, it must soon have fallen into de- suetude and oblivion : and those alone would remain, which accorded in their general tendency. " Quae usu obtinuere,*' says Lord Bacon, " si non bona, at saltern apta inter sesunt." The necessity of studying particular constitutions of government, by the help of systematical descriptions of them, (such descriptions, for ex- ample, as are given of that of England by Montesquieu and Blackstone) arises from the same circumstances, which render il expedient, in most instances, to study particular languages by consulting th^ writings of grammarians. In both cases, the knowledge we wi^h to acquire, com- prehends an infinite number of particulars, the consideration of which, in detail, would distract the attention, and overload the memory. The systematical descriptions of politicians like the general rules of gram- marians, are in a high degree useful for arranging and simplifying the objects of our study ; but in both cases, we must remember, that the knowledge we acquire in this manner is to be received with great limi- tations, and that it is no more possible to convey, in a systematical form, a just and complete idea of a particular government, than it is to teach a language completely by means of general rules, without any practical assistance from reading or conversation. 2. The nature and spirit of a government, as it is actually exercised at a particular period, cannot always be collected, perhaps it can sel- dom be collected, from an examination of written laws, or of the estab- lished forms of a constitution. These may continue the same for a long course of ages, while the government may be modified in its exercise, to a great extent, by gradual and indescribable alterations in the ideas, manners, and character, of the people, or by a change in the relations which different orders of the community bear to each other. In every country whatever, beside the established laws, the political state of the people is affected by an infinite variety of circumstances, of which no words can convey a conception, and which are to be collected only from actual observation. Even in this way, it is not easy for a person who has received his education in one country, to study the government of another; on account of the difficulty which he must necessarily experi- ence, in entering into the associations which influence the mind under a different system of manners, and in ascertaining (especially upon poli- tical subjects) the complex ideas conveyed by a foreign language. In consequence of the causes which have now been mentioned, it sometimes happens, that there are essential circumstances in the actual state of a government, about which the constitutional laws are not only silent, but which are directly contrary to all the written laws, and to the spirit of the constitution as delineated by theoretical writers. VOL. I. 16 122 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPH\ [chap. IV. IV. The art of government differs from the mechanical arts in this, lhat, in the former, it is much more difficult to refer efTects to their causes, than in the latter ; and, of consequence, it rarely happens, even when we have an opportunity of seeing a political experiment made, that we can draw from it any certain inference, with respect to the justness of the principles by which it was suggested. In those compli- cated machines, to which the structure of civil society has been frequent- ly compared, as all the different parts of which they are composed are subjected to physical laws, the errors of the artist must necessarily be- come apparent in the last result; but in the political system, as well as in the animal body, where the general constitution is sound and healthy, there is a sort of vis medicatrix, which is sufficient for the cure of par- tial disorders: and in the one case, as well as in the other, the errors of human art are frequently corrected and concealed by the wisdom of nature. Among the many false estimates which we daily make of hu- man ability, there is perhaps none more groundless than the exaggera- ted conceptions we are apt to form of that species of political wisdom which is supposed to be the fruit of long experience and of professional habits. "Go;" (said the chancellor Oxenstiern to his son, when he was sending him to a congress of ambassadors, and when the young ma.i was expressing his diffidence of his own abilities for such an em- ployment;) " Go, and see with your own eyes, Quam parvu sapientia regitur mundus /" The truth is, (however paradoxical the remark may appear at first view,) that the speculative errors of statesmen are fre- quently less sensible in their effects, and, of consequence, more likely to escape without detection, than those of individuals who occupy in- ferior stations in society. The effects of misconduct in private life are easily traced to their proper souree, and therefore the world is sel- dom far wrong in the judgments which it forms of the prudence or of the imprudence of private characters. But in considering the affairs of a great nation, it it so difficult to trace events to their proper causes, and to distinguish the effects of political wisdom, from Ihose which are the natural result of the -ituation of the people, that it is scarcely po-sible, excepting in the case of a very long administration, to appreciate the talents of a statesman- from the success or the failure of his measures. In every society, too, which, in consequence of the general spirit of its government, enjoys the blessings of tranquillity and liberty, a great part of the political order which we are apt to ascribe to legislative sa- gacity, is the natural result of the selfish pursuits of individuals; nay, in every such society, (as I already hinted,) the natural tendency to im- provement is so strong, as to overcome many powerful obstacles, which the imperfection of human institutions opposes to its progress. From these remarks it seems to follow, that, although, in the mechan- ical arts, the errors of theory may frequently be corrected by repeated trials, without having recourse to general principles, yet, in the machine of government, there is so great a variety of powers at work, beside the influence of the statesman that it is vain to expect the art of legis- lation should be carried to its greatest possible perfection by experience alone Still, however, it may be said, that in the most imperfect governments of modern Europe, we have an experimental proof, that they secure, tp a very great degree, the principal objects of the social union. Why sect, vhl] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 123 hazard these certain advantages, for the uncertain effects of changes, suggested by mere theory; and not rest satisfied with a measure of po- litical happiness, which appears, from the history of the world, to be greater than has commonly fallen to the lot of nations ? With those who would carry their zeal against reformation so far, it is impossible to argue ; and it only remains for us to regret, that the number of such reasoners has, in all ages of the world, been so great, and their influence on human affairs so extensive. " There are some men,'' says Dr. Johnson,) " of narrow views, and " grovelling conceptions, who, without the instigation of personal ma-. " lice, treat every new attempt as wild and chimerical; and look upon " every endeavour to depart from the beaten tiack, as the rash effort " of a warm imagination, or the glittering speculation of an exalted " mind, that may please and dazzle for a time, but can produce no real " or lasting advantage. " These men value themselves upon a perpetual scepticism : upon " believing nothing but their own senses; upon calling for demonstra- " tion where it cannot possibly be obtained ; and, sometimes, upon " holding out against it when it is laid before them ; upon inventing " arguments against the success of any new undertaking ; and, where " arguments cannot be found, upon treating it with contempt and " ridicule. " Such have been the most formidable enemies of the great benefac- " tors of the world; for their notions and discourse are so agreeable to " the lazy, the envious, and the timorous, that they seldom fail of be- " coming popular, and directing the opinions of mankind.';* With respect to this sceptical disposition, as applicable to the present state of society, it is of importance to add, that, in every government, the stability and the influence of established authority must depend on the coincidence between its measures and the tide of public opinion; and that in modern Europe, in consequence of the invention of print- ing, and the liberty of the press, public opinion has acquired an ascend- ant i*i human affairs, which it never possessed in those states of antiqui- ty from which most of our political examples are drawn. The danger, indeed, of sudden and rash innovations cannot be too strongly inculca- ted, and the views of those men who are forward to promote them, can- not be reprobated with too great severity. But it is possible also to fall into the opposite extreme, and to bring upon society the very evils we are anxious to prevent, by an obstinate opposition to those gradual and necessary reformations which the genius of the times demands. The violent revolutions which, at different periods, have convulsed modern Europe, have arisen, not from a spirit of innovation in sove- reigns and statesmen ; but from their bigotted attachment to antiquated forms, and to principles borrowed from less enlightened ages. It is this reverence for abuses which have been sanctioned by time, accompanied with an inattention to the progress of public opinion, which has, in most instances, blinded the rulers of mankind, till government has lost all its efficiency ; and till the rage of innovation has become too general and too violent, to be satisfied with changes, which, if proposed at an earlier period, would have united, in the support of established institu- tions, every friend to order, and to the prosperity of his country. ♦Life ofDuAKr, by Dr. Johnsox. 124 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chfip. IV. Thesp observations I state with the greater confidence, that the sub- stance of them is contained in tl e following aphorisms of Lord Bacon • a philosopher who (if wp except, perhaps, the Inte Mr. I urgotO seems, more than any other, to have formed enlightened views with respect to the possible attainments of mankind ; and whose fame cannot fail to in- crease as the world grows older, by being attached, not to a particular system of variable opinions, but to the general and infalliablc progress of human reason. ' Quis novator tempus imitatur, quod novationcs ita insinuat, ut sen- " sus fallact? " Novator maximus tempus; quidni igitur tempus imitemur? " Morosa morum retentio res turbtilenta est, xque ac novitas. " Cum per se res nuitentiir i.i deterius, si consilio in melius non mu " tentur, quis finis erit mali r" The general conclusion to which these observations lead, is sufficient- ly obvious; that the perfection of political wisdom does not consist in an indiscriminate zeal against reforms, but in a gradual and prudent accommodation of established institutions to the varying opinions, man- ners, and circumstances of mankind. In the actual application, how- ever, of this principle, many difficulties occur, which it requires a very rare combination of talents to surmount : more particularly in the pre- sent age, when the press has, to so wonderful a degree, emancipated hu- man reason from the tyranny of ancient prejudices, and has roused a spirit of free discussion, unexampled in the history of former times. That this sudden change in the state of the world should be accom- panied with some temporary disorders, is by no means surprising. While the multitude continue imperfectly enlightened, they will be occa- sionally misled by the artifices of demagogues; and even good men, intoxicated with ideas of theoretical p^rfe- tion, may be expected some- times to sacrifice, unintentionally, the tranquillity of their cotemporaries, to an over-ardent zeal for the good of posterity. Notwithstanding, however, these evils, which every friend to humanity must lament, I would willingly believe, that the final effects resulting from this spirit of reformation cannot fail to be favourable to human happiness ; and there are some peculiarities in the present condition of mankind, which ap- pear to me to justify more sanguine hopes upon the subject, than it would have been reasonable for a philosopher to indulge at any former period. An attention to these peculiarities is absolutely necessary to enable us to form a competent judgment on the question to which the foregoing observations relate ; and it leads to the illustration of a doc- trine to which I have frequently referred in this work, the gradual im- provement in the condition of the species, which may be expected from the progress of reason and the diffusion of knowledge. Among the many circumstances favourable to human happiness in the present state of the world, the most important perhaps, is, that the same events which have contributed to loosen the foundations of the ancient fabricks of despotism, have made it practicable in a much great- er degree than it ever was formerly, to reducp the principle of legisla- tion to a science, and to anticipate the probable course of popular opin- ions. It is easy for the statesman to form to himself a distinct and steady idea of the ultimate objects at which a wise legislator ought to aim, and to foresee that modification of the social order, to which human Sect. VIII.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 125 affairs have, of themselves, a tendency to approach ; and, therefore, his practical sagacity and address are limited to the care of accomplishing the important ends which he has in view, as effectually and as rapidly as is consistent with the quiet of individuals, and with the rights arising from actual establishments. In order to lay a solid foundation for the science of politics, the first step ought to be, to ascertain that form of society which is perfectly agreeable to nature and to justice ; and what are the principles of legis- lation necessary for maintaining it. Nor is the inquiry so difficult as might at first be apprehended ; for it might be easily shewn, that the greater part of the political disorders which exist among mankind, do not arise from a want of foresight in politicians,, which has rendered their laws too general, but from their having trusted too little to the operation of those simple institutions which nature and justice recom- mend ; and, of consequence, that, as society advances to its perfection, the number of laws may be expected to diminish, instead of increasing, and the science of legislation to be gradually simplified. The GEconomical system which, about thirty years ago, employed the speculations of some ingenious men in France, seems to me to have been the first attempt to ascertain this ideal perfection of the social or- der ; and the light which, since that period, has been thrown on the subject, in different parts of Europe, is a proof of what the human mind is able to accomplish in such inquiries, when it has once received a pro- per direction. To all the various tenets of these writers, I would, by no means, be understood to subscribe ; nor do I consider their system as so perfect in every different part, as some of its most sanguine admirers nave represented it to be. A few of the most important principles of political ceconomy they have undoubtedly established with demonstra- tive evidence ; but what the world is chiefly indebted to them for, is, the commencement which they have given to a new branch of science, and the [dan of investigation which they have exhibited to their suc- cessors. A short account of what I conceive to be the scope of their speculations will justify these remarks, and will comprehend every thing which I have to offer at present, in answer to the question by which they were suggested. Such an account I attempt with the great- er satisfaction, that the leading views of the earliest and most enlight- ened patrons of the ceconomical system have, in my opinion, been not more misrepresented by its opponents, than misapprehended by some who have adopted its conclusions.* In the first place, then, 1 think it of importance to remark, that the object of the ceconomical system ought by no means to be confounded (as I believe it commonly is in this country) with that of the Utopian plans of government, which have, at different times, been offered to the world ; and which have so often excited the just ridicule of the more sober and reasonable inquirers. Of these plans, by far the greater num- ber picceed on the supposition, that the social order is entirely the ef- fect of human art; and that wherever this order is imperfect, the evil may be traced to some want of foresight on the part of the legislator ; or to some inattention of the magistrate to the complicated structure of that machine of which he regulates the movements. The projects of * S.ee Note (N.) 126 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY \cliaji. I\. reform, therefore, which such plans involve, are, in general, well entitled to all the ridicule and contempt they have met with; inasmuch as tbey apply an arrogant and presumptuous belief in their authors of the superiority of their own politi- al sagacity to the accumulated wisdom of former ages. The case is very different with the (economical sysiem ; of which the leading views (so far as I am able to judge)proceed on the two following suppositions : First, that the social order is, in the most essential respects, the result of the wisdom of nature, and not of human contrivance ; and, therefore, that the proper business of the politician, is not to divide his attention among all the different parls of a machine, which is by far too complicated for his comprehension ; but by protect- ing the rights of individuals, and by allowing to each as complete a liberty as is compatible with the perfect security of the rights of hisfel- low-citizens. to remove every obstacle which the prejudices and vices of men have opposed to the establishment of that order which society has a tendency to assume. Secondly, that, in proportion to the pro- gress and the diffusion of knowledge, those prejudices, on a skilful man- agement of which all the old systems of policy proceeded, must gradu- ally disappear; and. consequently, that (whatever may be his predi- lection for ancient usages) the inevitable course cf events imposes o\i the politician the necessity of forming his measures on more solid and permanent principles, than those by which the world has hitherto been governed. Both of these suppositions are of modern origin. The for- mer, so far as I know, was first stated and illustrated by the French OZconomists. The latter has been obviously suggested by lhat rapid improvement, which has actually taken place in every country of Eu- rope where the press has enjoyed a moderate degree of liberty. It may be farther remarked, with respect to the greater part of the plans proposed by Utopian projectors, that they proceed on the suppo- sition of a miraculous reformation in the moral character of a people, to be effected by some new sysiem of education. All such plans (as Mr. Hume has justly observed,) may be safely abandoned as impra.*ti» cable and visionary. But this objection does not apply to the ceconomi- cal system, the chief expedient of which, for promoting moral improve- ment, is not that education which depends on the attention and care of our instructors, but an education which necessarily results from the po- litical order of society. " How ineffectual"' (said the Roman poet) " are " the wisest laws, if they be not supported by good morals!" How ineffectual (say the GEconoraists) are all our efforts to preserve the morals of a people, if the laws which regulate the political order, doom the one half of mankind to indigence, to fraud, to servility, to ignorance, to superstition, and the other half to be the slaves of all the follies and vices which result from the insolence of rank, and the selfishness of op- ulence ? Suppose for a moment, that the inordinate accumulation of wealth in the hands of individuals, which we every where meet with in modern Europe, were gradually diminisiied by abolishing the law of entails, and by establishing a perfect freedom of commerce and of in- dustry ; it is almost self evident, that this simple alteration in the order of society, an alteration, which has been often demonstrated to be the most effectual and the most infallible measure for promoting the wealth and population of a country, would contribute, more than all the labours of moralist;, to secure the virtue and the happiness of all the classes of sect, viii.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 127 mankind. It is worthy too of remark, that such a plan of reformation does not require, for its accomplishment, any new and complicated in- stitutions, and therefore does not proceed upon any exaggerated con- ception of the efficacy of human policy. On the contrary, it requires only (like most of the other expedients proposed by this system) the gradual abolition of those arbitrary and unjust arrangements, by which the order of nature is disturbed. Another mistaken idea concerning the ceconomical system is, that it is founded entirely upon theory,and unsupported by facts. That this may be the case with respect to some of its doctrines, I shall not dispute; but, in general, it may be safely affirmed, that they rest on a broader basis of facts, than any other political speculations which have been yet offered to the world ; for they are founded, no't on a few examples col- lected from the small number of governments of which we possess an ac- curate knowledge, but on those laws of human nature, and those max- ims of common sense, which are daily verified in the intercourse of pri- vate life. Of those who have speculated on the subject of legislation, by far the greater part seem to have considered it as a science sui generis, the first principles of which can be obtained in no other way, than by an exami- nation of the conduct of mankind in their political capacity. The OEconomists, on the contrary, have searched for the causes of national prosperity, and national improvement, in those arrangements, which our daily observations shew to be favourable to the prosperity and to the improvement of individuals. The former resemble those philosophers of antiquity, who, affirming, that the phenomena of the heavens are re- gulated by laws peculiar to themselves, discouraged every attempt to investigate their physical causes, which was founded upon facts collected from common experience. The latter have aimed at accomplishing a reformation in politics, similar to what Kepler and Newton accomplish- ed in astronomy ; and, by subjecting to that common sense, which guides mankind in their private concerns, those questions, of which none were supposed to be competent judges, but men initiated in the mysteries of government, have given a beginning to a science which has already extended very widely our political prospects; and which, in its pro- gress, may probably afford an illustration, not less striking than that which physical astronomy exhibits, of the simplicity of those laws by which the universe is governed. When a political writer, in order to expose the folly of those commercial regulations, which aim at the en- couragement of domestic industry by restraints on importation, appeals to the maxims upon which men act in private life; when he remarks, that the tailor does not attempt to make his own shoes, but buys them of the shoemaker, that the shoemaker does not attempt to make his own clothes, buL employs a tailor; and when he concludes, that what is pru- dence in the conduct of every private family, can scarcely be folly in that of a great kingdom,* he may undoubtedly be said, in'one sense, to indulge in theory, as he calls in question the utility of institutions which appear, from the fact, to be not incompatible with a certain degree of political prosperity. But, in another sense, and in a much more philo- *9ee Mr. Smith's profound and original " Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations." 1-8 ELEMEMrs OF THE 1TIILOSOPHV [c/lOp. IV. sophical one, he may be said to oppose to the fanse theories of state*. men. the common sense of mankind, and those maxims of expediency, of which every man may verify the truth by his own daily observation. There is yet another mistake, (of still greater consequence, perhaps, than any of those I have mentioned,) which has mi led most of the op- ponents, and even some of the friends, of the ceconomical system; an idea that it was meant to exhibit a political order, win -h is really attain- able in the present state of Europe. So different from this were the views of its most enlightened advocates, that they have uniformly r"st- ed their only hopes of its gradual establishment in the world, on that influence in the conduct of human affairs, which philosophy may be »x- pected gradually to acquire, in consequence of the progress of reason and civilization To suppose that a period is ever to arrive, when it shall be realized in its full extent, would be the height of enthusiasm and absurdity; but it is surely neither enthusiasm nor absurdity to affirm, that governments are more or less perfect, in proportion to the greater or smaller number of individuals to whom they afford the means of cul- tivating their intellectual and moral powers, and whom they admit to live together on a libesal footing of equality ;—or even to expect, that. in proportion to the progress of reason, governments will actually ap- proach nearer and nearer to this description. To delineate that state of political society to which governments may be expected to approach nearer and neater as the triumphs of philoso- phy extend, was, I apprehend, the leading object of the earliest and most enlightened patrons of the ceconomical system, ft is a state of so- ciety, which they by no means intended to recommend to particular com- munities, as the most eligibie they could adopt at present; but as an ideal order of things, to which they have a tendency of themselves to ap- proach, and to which it ought to be the aim of the legislator to facilitato their progress. In the language of mathematicians, it forms a limit to the progressive improvement of the political order; and, in the mean time, it exhibits a standard of comparison, by which the excellence of particular institutions may be estimated. According to the view which has now been given of the economical system, its principles appear highly favourable to the tranquillity of so- ciety ; in as much as, by inspiring us with a confidence in the tiiumph which truth and liberty must infallibly gain in the end over error and injustice, it has a tendency to discourage every plan of innovation which is to be supported by violence and bloodshed. And, accordingly, such has always been the language of those who were best acquainted with the views of its authors. " If we attack oppressors before we have " taught the oppressed,'* (says one of the ablest of its present support- ers,* " we shall risk the loss of liberty, and rouse them to oppose the pro- egress of reason. History affords proofs of this truth. How often, in " spite of the efforts of the friends of freedom, has the event of a single " battle reduced nations to the slavery of ages. " And what is the kind of liberty enjoyed by those nations, which '' have recovered it by force of arms, and not by the influence of philo- " sophy ? Have not most of them confounded the forms of republicanism " with the enjoyment of right, and the despotism of numbers with liber- " ty ? How many laws, contrary to the rights of nature, have dishonour- ' M. Condorcet fCC. v«l] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 129 "ed the code of every people which has recovered its freedom, during " those ages in which reason was still in its infancy.'" " Why not profit by this fatal experience, and wisely **ait the pro- " gress of knowledge, in order to obtain freedom more effectual, more " substantial, and more peaceful ? Why pursue it by blood and inevita- " ble confusion, and trust that to chance, which time must certainly, "and without bloodshed, bestow? A fortunate struggle may, indeed, " relieve us of many giievances under which we labour at present, but " if we wish to secure the perfection and the permanence of freedom, il we must patiently wait the period, when men, emancipated from their " prejudices, and guided by philosophy, shall be rendered worthy oflib- " erty, by comprehending its claims."* Nor is it the employment of violent and sanguinary means alone, in order to accomplish political innovations, that this enlightened and hu- mane philosophy has a terdency to discourage By extending our views to the whole plan of civil society, and shewing us the mutual relations and dependencies of its most distant parts it cannot fail to check that indiscriminate zeal against established institutions, which arises from partial views of the social system; as well as to produce a certain degree of scepticism with respect to every change, the success of which is not insured by the prevailing ideas and manners of the age. Sanguine and inconsiderate p ojects of reformation are frequently the offspring of clear and argumentative and systematical understandings: but rarely of com- prehensive minds. For checking them, indeed, nothing is so effectual as a general survey of the complicated structure of society. Even although such a survey should be superficial, provided it be -onducted on an ex- tensive scale, it is more useful, at least for this purpose; than the most mi- nute aud succes&ful inquiries, whieh are circu nscribed within a narrow circle. If it should teach us nothing else, it will at least satisfy us of the extreme difficulty of predicting, with confidence, the remote effects of new arrangements; and that the perfection of political wisdom consists not in incumbering the machine of government with new contrivances to obviate every partial inconvenience, but in removing gradually, and im- perceptibly, the obstacles which disturb the order of nature, and (as Mr. Addison somewhere expresses it) " in grafting upon her institutions.*" When the ceconomical system, indeed, is first presented to the mind, and when we compare the perfection which it exhibits, with the actual state of human aflairs, it is by no means unnatural, that it should sug- gest plans of reformation too violent and sudden to be practicable. A more complete acquaintance, however, with the subject, will effectually cure these first impressions, by pointing out to us the mischiefs to be appre- hended from an injudicious combination of theoretical perfection with our established laws, prejudices, and manners. As the various unnatu- ral modes and habits of living, to which the bodily constitution is gradu- * To some of my readers it may appear trifling to remark, that, in availing my- self of an occasional coincidence of sentiment witb a cotemporary author, I would not be understood to become responsible for the consistency of his personal con- duct with bis philosophical principles, nor to subscribe to any one of his opinions. but those to which I have expressed my assent by incorporating them with my own composition. [Note to second Edition] vol. t. 17 130 elements of the philosophy [chap. iv. ally reconciled by a course of luxurious indigencies, have such a ten- dency to correct each other's effects, as to render a partial return to a more simple regimen, a dangerous, and, sometimes, a fatal experiment; so it is possible, that many of our imperfect political institutions may be so accommodated to each other,' that a partial execution of the most plausible and equitable plans of reformation might tend, in the first in- stance, to frustrate those important purposes which wp are anxious to promote. Is it not po«sible, for example, that the influence which is founded on a respect for hereditary rank, may have its use in counter- acting that aristocracy which arises from inequality of wealth, and which so many laws and prejudices conspire to support? That the for- mer species of influence is rapidly declining of itself, in conseqnence of the progress which commerce and philosophy have already made, is sufficiently obvious; and I think, it may reasonably be doubted, wheth- er a well-wisher to mankind would be disposed to accelerate its destruc- tion, till the true principles of political occonomy are completely under- stood and acknowledged by the world. Various other examples might be produced, to illustrate the dangers to be apprehended from the partial influence of general principles in politics; or, in other words, from an exclusive attention to particular circumstances in the political order, without comprehensive views of the subject. It is only upon a limited mind, therefore, that such studies will produce a passion for violent innovations. In more comprehensive and enlightened understaudingvS, their natural effect is caution and diffidence with respect to the issue of every experiment, of which we do not per- ceive distinctly all the remote consequences. Nor is this caution at all inconsistent with a firm confidence in the certainty of lhat triumph which truth and liberty must infallibly gain in the end over error and injustice. On the contrary, it is a natural and obvious consequence of such a con- viction ; in as much as the same arguments on which this conviction is founded, prove to us, thatthe progress of mankind towards the perfection of the social order, must necessarily, in every case, be gradual, and that it must be diversified in the course it takes, according to the situations and characters of nations. To direct, and, as far as possible, to accele- rate, this progress,ought to be the great aim of the enlightened statesman, and, indeed, of every man who wishes well to his species: but it is ne- cessary for him always to remember, that considerable alterations in the established order are very seldom to be effected immediately and direct- ly by political regulations ; and that they are, in all cases, most success- ful and most permanent, when they are accomplished gradually by na- tural cau.-es, freed from those restraints which had formerly checked their operation. In the governments, indeed, of modern Europe, it is much more necessary to abolish old institutions, than to introduce new ones; and if this reformation be kept steadily in view, and not pushed farther at any time than circumstances render expedient, or the ideas of the times recommend, the essential principles of a more perfect order of things will gradually establish themselves, without any convulsion. According to this view of the subject, thespeculat.on com erning the perfect order of the society is to be regarded merely as a description of the ultimate objects at which the statesman ought to aim. The tran- quillity of his administration, and the immediate success of his measures, depend on his good sense and his practical skill. And his theoretical sect. vni.'J OF THE HUMAN MIND. 131 principles only enable him to direct his measures steadily and wisely to promote the improvement and happiness of mankind, and prevent him from being ever led astray from these important objects, by more limit- ed views of temporary expedience.* Before closing this disquisition, it may be proper for me to attempl to obviate a little more fully than I have done, an objection which has been frequently drawn from the past experience of mankind, against lhat sup- position of their progressive improvement, on which all the foregoing reasonings proceed How mournful are the vicissitudes which history ex- hibits to us, in the course of human affai s; and how little foundation do they afford to our sanguine prospects concerning futurity ! If, in those parts of the earth which were formerly inhabited by barbarians, we now see the most splendid exertions of genius, and the happiest forms of civil policy, we behold others, which, in ancient times, were the seats of science, of civilization, and of liberty, at present immersed in supersti- tion, and laid waste by despotism. After a short period of civil, of mi- litary, and of literary glory, the prospect has changed at once: the ca- reer of degeneracy has begun, and has proceeded till it could advance no farther; or some unforeseen calamity has occurred, which has ob- literated, for a time, all memory of former improvements, and has con- demned mankind to retrace, step by step, the same path by which * The foregoing observations on the general aim of the (Economical System re. fer solely (as must appear evident to those who have perused them with attention) to the doctrines it contains on the article of Political Economy. The Theory of Government which it inculcates, is of the most dangerous tendency ; recommend- ing, in strong and unqualified terms, an unmixed despotism ; and reprobating all constitutional checks on the sovereign authority. Many English writers, indeed, with an almost incredible ignorance of the works which they have presumed to censure, have spoken of them, as if they encouraged political principles of a very different complexion ; but the truth is,, that the disciples of Quesnai (without a single exception,) carried their zeal for the power of the monarch, and what they called the Unity of Legislation, to so extravagant a length, as to treat with contempt those mixed establishments which allow any share whatever of legislative influ- ence to the representatives of the people. On the one hand, the evidence of this system appeared to its partisans so complete and irresistible, that they flattered themselves monarclis would soon see with an intuitive conviction the identity of their own interests with those of the nations they are called to govern; and on the other hand they contended, that it is only under the strong and steady govern- ment of a race of hereditary princes, undistracted by the prejudices and local h> terests which warp the deliberations of popular assemblies, that a gradual and systematical approach can be made to the perfection of law and policy. The ve- ry first of QuesnaPs maxims states as a fundamental principle, that the sovereign authority, unrestrained by any constitutional checks or balances, should be lodged in the hands of a single person ; and the same doctrine is maintained zealously by all his followers;—by none of them more explicitly than by Mercier de la Riviere, whose treatise on " the natural and essential order of political societies," might have been expected to attract some notice in this country, from the praise which Mr. Smith has bestowed on the perspicuity of his style, and the distinctness of his arrangement. If some individuals who formerly professed an enthusiastic attachment to the doctrines of this sect, have at a later period of their lives, distinguished themselves by an enthusiasm no less ardent in opposition to the principles advanced in their writings, the fact only affords an additional illustration of a truth verified by dai- y experience, that the most solid foundation for political consistency is a spirit of moderation, and that the most natural and easy of all transitions is from the vio- lence and intolerance of one extreme to those of another. [Note to second Edition.'] 132 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. fV. their forefathers had risen to greatness. In a word; on such a retro- spective view of human affairs, man appears to be the mere sport of for- tune and of accident; or rather, he appears to be doomed, by the con- dition of his nature, to run alternately the career of improvement aid of degeneracy ; and to realize the beautiful but melancholy fable of Si.-y- phus, by an eternal renovation of hope and disappointment. In opposition to these discouraging views of the state and prospects of man, it nmy be remarked in general, that in the course of these latter ages, a variety of events have happened in the history of the world, which render the condition of the human race essentially different fr<>in what it ever was among the nations of antiquity ; and which, of conse- quence, render all our reasonings concerning their future fortunes, in so far as they are founded merely on their past experience, unphilosophi- cal and inconclusive. The alterations which have taken place in the art of war, in consequence of the invention of fire arms, and of the mo- dern science of fortification, have given to civilized nations a security against the irruptions of barbarians, which they never before po.«ses«ed. The more extended, and the more constant intercourse, which the im- provements in commerce and in the art of navigation have opened, among the distant quarters of the globe, cannot fail to operate in un- dermining local and national prejudices, and in imparting to the whole species the intellectual acquisitions of each particular community. The accumulated experience of ages has already taught the rulers of man- kind, that the most fruitful and the most permanent sources of revenue are to be derived, not from conquered and tributary provinces, but from the internal prosperity arid wealth of their own subjects:—and the same experience now begins to teach nations, that the increase of their own wealth, so far from depending on the poverty and depression of their neighbours, is intimately connected with their industry and opulence ; and consequently, that those commercial jealousies, which have hitherto been so fertile a source of animosity among different states, are founded entirely on ignorance and prejudice. Among all the circumstances, however, which distinguish the present state of mankind from that of ancient nations, the invention of printing is by far the most important; and, indeed, this single event, independently of every other, is sufficient to change the whole course of human affairs. The influence which printing is likely to have on the future history of the world, has not, I think, been hitherto examined by philosophers with the attention which the importance of the subject deserves. One reason of this may probably have been, lhat, as the invention has never been made but once, it has been considered rather as the effect of a for- tunate accident, than as the result of those general causes on which the progress of society seems to depend. But it may be reasonably ques- tioned, how far this idea be just. For, although it should be allowed, that the invention of printing was accidental, with respect to the indivi- dual who made it, it may, with truth, be considered as the natural re- sult of a state of the world, when a number of great and contiguous na- tions are all engaged in the study of literature, in the pursuit of science, and in the practice of the arts; in so much, that 1 do not think it extra- vagant to affirm, that, if this inven'ion had not been made by the parti- cular person to whom it is ascribed, the same art, or some analogous art. answering a similar purpose, would have infallibly been invented by sect viii.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 133 some other person, and at no very distant period. The art of printing, theref >re, is intitled to be considered as a step in the natural history of m-in, no less than the art of writing; and they who are sceptical about the future progress of the race, merely in consequence of its past history, reason as unphilosophically, as the member of a savage tribe, who deri- ving his own acquaintance with .former times from oral tradition only, should affe t to call in question the efficacy of written records, in accel- erating the progress of knowledge and of civilization. What will be the particular effects of this invention, (which has been hitherto much checked in its operation by the restraints on the liberty of the press in the greater part of Europe,) it is beyond the reach of human sagacity to conjecture, but, in general, we may venture to pre- dict with confidence, that, in every country, it wi:l gradually operate to widen the ciicle of science and civilization; to distribute more equally, a nong all the members cf the community the advantages of the political union; and to enlarge the basis of equitable governments, by increasing the number of those who understand their value, and are interested to defend them. The science of legislation, too, with all the other branch- es of knowledge which are connected with human improvement, may be expected tr7advance with rapidity; and, in proportion as the opin- ions and institutions of men approach to truth and to justice, they will be secured against those revolutions to which human affairs have always been hitherto subject. Opinicnum enim commenta delet dies, naturaz juditia confirmat. The revolutions incident to the democratical states of antiquity fur- nish no solid objection to the foregoing observations : for none of these states enjoyed the advantages, which modern times derive from the dif- fusion and from the rapid circulation of knowledge. In these stales, most of the revolutions which happened, arose fronr the struggles of de- magogues, who employed the passions of the multitude in subserviency to their own interest and ambition ; and to all of them, the ingenious and striking remark of Hobbes will be found applicable ; that " Demo- " cracy is nothing but an aristocracy of orators, interrupted sometimes " by the temporary monarchy of a single orator.'' While this continu- ed to be the case, democratical constitutions were, undoubtedly, the most unfavourable of any to the tranquillity of mankind ; and the only way to preserve the order of society was, by skilfully balancing against each other, the prejudices and the separate interests of different orders of citizens. That such balances, however, will every day become less necessary for checking the turbulence of the democratical spirit in free governments, appears probable from this; that among the various ad- vantages to be expected from the liberty of the press, one of the greatest is, the effect which it must necessarily have in diminishing the influence of popular eloquence, both by curing men of those prejudices upon which it operate?, and by subjecting it to the irresistible control of en- lightened opinions. In the republican states of antiquity, the eloquence of demagogues was indeed a dangerous engine of faction, while it aspir- ed to govern nadons by its unlimited sway in directing popular coun- cils. But now, when the effusions of the orator are, by means of the press, subjected to the immediate tribunal of an inquisitive age, the eloquence of legislative assemblies is forced to borrow its tone from the spirit of the times; and if it retain its ascendant in human affairs, it can 134 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. only be, by lending its aid to the prevailing cause, and to the permanent interests of truth and of freedom. Of the progress which may yet be made in the different branches of moral and political philosophy, we may form some idea, from what has already happened in physics since the time that Lord Itacon united in one useful direction, the labours of those who cultivate that science.— At the period when he wrote, physics was certainly in a more hopeless state, than that of moral and political philosophy in the present age. A perpetual succession of chimerical theories had. till then. amu>ed the world; and the prevailing opinion was. that the case would continue to be the same for ever. Why then should we despair of the competency of the human faculties to establish solid and permanent systems, upon other subjects, which are of still more serious importance? Physics, it is true, are free from many difficulties which obstruct our progress in mo- ral and political enquiries; hu', perhaps, this advantage may he more than counterbalanced by the tendency they have to engage a more universal, and a more earnest attention, inconsequence of their coming home more immediately to our "business and our bosoms." When these sciences too begin to be prosecuted on a regular and systematical plan, their improvement will goon with an accelerated volocily ; not only as the number of speculative minds will be every day increased by the diffusion of knowledge, b'it as an acquaintance with the just rules of inquiry will more and more place important discoveries within the reach of ordinary understandings. "Such rules," (says Lord Bacon) "do, in some sort, equal men's wits, and leave no great advantage or " pre-eminence to the pet feet and excellent motions of the spirit. To " draw a straight line, or to describe a circle, by aim of hand only, " there must be a great difference between an unsteady and an unprac- " lised hand and a steady aud practised; but, to do it by a rule or com- " pass, it is much alike." Nor must we omit to mention the value which the art of printing communicates to the most limited exertions of literary industry, by treasuring them up as inateria's for the future examination of more en- lightened inquiries. In this respect the press bestows upon the sciences an advantage somewhat analogous to that which the mechanical arts derive from the division of labour. As in these arts, the exertions of an uninformed multitude are united by the comprehensive skill of the artist, in the accomplishment of effect- astonishing by their magnitude, and by the complicated ingenuity they display, so, in the sciences, the observations and conjectures of obscure individuals on those subjects which are level to their capacities, and which fall under their own im- mediate notice, accumulate for a course of years, till at last, some phi- losopher arises, who combines these scattered materials, and exhibits, in his system, not merely the force of a single mind, but the intellectual power of the age in which he lives. It is upon these last considerations, much more than on the efforts of original genius, that I would rest my hopes of the progress of the human race. What genius alone could accomplish in science, the world has already seen: and I am ready to subscribe to the opinion of those who think, that the splendour of its past exertions is not likely to be obscured by the fame of future philosophers. But the experiment yet remains to be tried, what lights may be thrown on the most important of all sub- sect, viii.] of the Human mind. 135 jects, by the free discussions of inquisitive nations, unfettered by preju- dice, and stimulated in their inquiries by every motive that can awa- ken whatever is either generous or selfish in human nature. How trifling are the effects which the bodily strength of an individual is able to pro- duce, (however great may be his natural endowments) when compared with those which have been accomplished by the conspiring force of an ordinary multitude ? It was not the single arm of a Theseus, or a Her- cules, but the hands of such men as ourselves, that, in ancient Egypt, raised those monuments of architecture, which remain from age to age, to attest the wonders of combined and of persevering industry, and, while they humble the importance of the individual, to exalt the dignity, and to animate the labours, of the species. These views with respect to the probable improvement of the world, are so conducive tothecomfort of those who entertain them, that even, although they were founded in delusion a wise man would be disposed to cherish them. What should have induced some respectable writers to controvert them with so great an asperity of expression, it is not easy to conjecture, for whatever may bethought of (heir truth, their practi- cal tendency is surely favourable to human happiness; nor can that temper of mind, which disposes a man to give them a welcome recep- tion, be candidly suspected of designs hostile to the interests of humani- ty. One thing is certain, that the greatest of all obstacles to the im- provement of the world, is that prevailing belief of its improbability, which damps the exertions of so many individuals; and that, in propor- tion as the contrary opinion becomes general, it realizes the event which it leads us to anticipate. Surely, if any thing can have a tendency to call forth in the public service the exertions of individuals, it must be an idea of the magnitude of that work in which they are conspiring, and. a belief of the permanence of those benefits, which they confer on man- kind by every attempt to inform and to enlighten them. As in ancient Rome, therefore, it was regarded as the mark of a good citizen, never to despair of the fortunes of the republic ;—so the good citizen of the world, whatever may be the political aspect of his own times, will never despair of the fortunes of the human race, but will act upon the convic- tion, that prejudice, slavery, and corruption, must gradually give way to truth, liberty, and virtue ; and that, in the moral world, as well as in the material, the farther our observations extend, and the longer they are continued, the more we shall perceive of order and of benevolent design in the universe. Nor is this change in the condition of Man, in consequence of the progress of reason, by any means contrary to the general analogy of his natural history. In the infancy of the individual, his existence is pre- served by instincts, which disappear afterwards, when they are no longer necessary. In the savage state of our species, there are instincts which seem to form a part of the human constitution, and of which no traces remain in those periods of society, in which their use is supersed- ed by a more enlarged experience. Why then should we deny the pro- bability ofsomethicg similar to this, in the history of mankiud consider- ed in their political capacity ? I have already had occasion to observe that the governments which the world has hitherto seen, have seldom or never taken their rise from deep-laid schemes of human policy In every state of society which has yet existed, the multitude has. in general 136 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. icted from the immediate impulse of passion, or from the pressure of their wants and necessities ; aim, th. refure, what we commonly call the politica: order, is. at least in a great measure, the result of t'.e pa-sions and wants of man. combined with the circumstances of his situation, or, in other words, it is chiefly the result of the wisdom of nature So beau- tifully, indeed, do these passions and circumstances act in subserviency to her designs, and so invariably have they been found in the history of past ages, to conduct him in time to certain beneficial arrangements, that we can hardy bring ourselves to believe, that the end was not foreseen by those who were engaged in the pursuit Even in tho< ttiiovfieSx tov w^oreeai rnx xtivjireai, tut «v x.ni)6a>{*.t*, fisS-' ijv eKcnz ttxde A<« yxt ro exs fj»s 6ve.evop.ei yfljj~ rttirti xiro tov vov n xXXev T/ves, kxi x$>' ofcoiov, i) evxiTlov, if ret vvrtyyv,. Atx rev ymrxt, % «v«f«.vaje-/$. Abistot. de Memor. et Reminise, vol. i. p. 681. Edit, De Vat,. 144 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. V. than another, a perfectly complete enumeration is scarcely to be ex- pected. Nor is it merely inconsequence oftherelations.among things, that our notions of them are associated : they are frequently coupled together by means of relations among the words which denote them ; such as a similarity of sound, or other circumstances still more trifling. The al- literation which is so common in poetry, and in proverbial sayings, seems to arise, partly at least from associations of ideas founded on the accidental circumstance of the two words which express them begin- ning with the same letter. " But thousands die, without or this or that : Die ; and endow a College, or a Cat." Pope's Ep. to Lord Bathursx. " Ward tried, on Puppies, and the Poor, his dl*op." Id. Imitat. of Horace. " Puffs, powders, patches ; Bibles, billets-doux." Rape of the Lock. This indeed pleases only on slight occasions, when it may be supposed that the mind is in some degree playful, and under the influence of those principles of association which commonly take place when we are care- less and disengaged. Every person must be offended with the second line if the following couplet, which forms part of a very sublime de- scription of the Divine power : " Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a Hair as Heart." Essay on Man, Ep. 1. To these observations, it may be added, that things which have no known relation to ea-h other, are often associated, in consequence of their producing similar effects on the mind. Some of the finest poetical allusions are founded on this principle : and accordingly, if the reader is not possessed of sensibility congenial to that of the poet, he will be apt to overlook their meaning, or to censure them as absurd. To such a critic it would not be easy to vindicate the beauty of the following stanza, in an Ode addressed to a lady by the author of the Seasons. Oh thou, whose tender, serious eye Expressive speaks the soul I love : The gentle azure of the sky, The pensive shadows of the grove. I have already said, that the view of the subject which I propose to take, does not require a complete enumeration of our principles of asso- ciation. There is, however, an important distinction among them, to which I shall have occasion frequently to refer, and which, as far as I know, has not hitherto attracted the notice of philosophers. The rela- tions upon which some of them are founded, are perfectly obvious to the mind ; those which are the foundation of others, are discovered only in consequence of particular efforts of attention. Of the former kind, are the relations of Resemblance and Analogy, of Contrariety, of Vicinity in time and place, and those which arise from accidental coincidences in part I. § 2.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 145 the sound of different words. These, in general, connect our thoughts together, when they are suffered to take their natural course, and when we are conscious of little or no active exertion. Of the latter kind, are the relations of Cause and Effect, Means and End, of Premises arid Conclusion ; and those others, which regulate the train of thought in the mind of the philosopher, when he is engaged in a particular inves- tigation. It is owing to this distinction, that transitions, which would be highly offensive in philosophical writing, are the most pleasing of any in poetry. In the former species of composition, we expect to see an author lay down a distinct plan or method, and observe it rigorously ; without al- lowing himself to ramble into digressions, suggested by the accidental ideas or expressions which may occur to him in his progress. In that state of mind in which poetry is read, such digressions are not only agreeable, hut necessary to the effect; and an arrangement founded on the spontaneous and seemingly casual order of our thoughts, pleases more than one suggested by an accurate analysis of the subject. How absurd would the long digression in praise of Industry, in Thom- son's Autumn, appear, if it occurred in a prose essay !—a digression, however, which, in that beautiful poem, arises naturally and insensibly from the view of a luxuriant harvest; and which as naturally leads the Poet back to the points where his excursion began: All is the gift of Industry ; whate'er Exalts, embellishes, and renders life Delightful. Pensive Winter, cheer'd by him, Sits at the social fire, and happy hears Th' excluded tempest idly rave along; His harden'd hngers deck the gaudy Spring ; Without him Summer were an arid waste ; Nor to th' Autumnal months could thus transmit Those full, mature, immeasurable stores, That waving round, recall my wandering Song. In Goldsmith's Traveller, the transitions are managed with consum- mate skill; and yet, how different from that logical method which would be suited to a philosophical discourse on the state of society in the dif- ferent parts of Europe ! Some of the finest are suggested by the asso- ciating principle of Contrast. Thus, after describing the effeminate and debased Romans, the Poet proceeds to the Swiss : My soul, turn from them—turn we to survey Where rougher climes a nobler race display. And, after painting some defects in the manners of this gallant but un- refined people, his thoughts are led to those of the French : To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, I turn—and France displays her bright domain. The transition which occurs in the following lines, seems to be sug- gested by the accidental mention of a word; and is certainly one of the happiest in our language. vol. i. 19 140 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. V. Heavens! how unlike their Belgic Sires of old ! Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold ; War in each breast, and freedom on each brow ; How much unlike the Sons of Britain now !— —Fired at the sound, my genius spreads her wing, And flies, where Britain courts the" western spring. Numberless illustrations of the same remark might be collected from the ancient Poets, more particularly from the Georgics of Virgil, where the singular felicity of the transitions has attrai ted the notice even of those, who have been the least disposed to indulge themselves in philo- sophical refinements concerning the principles of Criticism. A celebra- ted instance of this kind occurs in the end of the first book :—the consi- deration of the weather and of its common prognostics leading the fan- cy, in the first place, to those more extraordinary phenomena which, according to the superstitious belief of the vulgar, are the forerunners of political revolutions; and, afterwards, to the death of Caesar, and the battles of Pharsalia and Philippi. The manner in which the Poet re- turns to his original subject, displays that exquisite art which is to be derived only from the diligent and enlightened study of nature. Scilicet et tempus veniet, cum finibus illis Agricola, incurvo terram molitus aratro, Exesa inveniet scabra rubigine pila ; Aut gravibus rastris galeas pulsabit inanes, Grandiaque effossis mirabitur ossa sepulchris. The facility with which ideas are associated in the mind, is very dif- ferent in different individuals; a circumstance which, as I shall after- wards shew, lays the foundation of remarkable varieties among men, both in respect of genius and of character. I am inclined, too, to think, that in the other sex (probably in conseq'ence of early education) ideas are more easily associated together, than in the minds of men. Hence the liveliness of their fancy, aiid the superiority they possess in epistola- ry writing, and in those kinds of poetry, in which the principal recom- mendations are ease of thought and expression. Hence, too, the facility with which they contract or lose habits, and accommodate their minds to new situations; and, I may add, the disposition they have to that species of superstition which is founded on accidental combinations of circumstances. The irfluence which this facility of association has on the power of Taste, shall be afterwards considered. SECTION III. Of the Power which the Mind has over the Train of its Thoughts. By means of the Association of Ideas, a constant current of thoughts, if I may use the expression, is made to pass through the mind while we are awake. Sometimes the current is interrupted, and the thoughts diverted into a new channel, in consequence of the ideas suggested by other men, or of the objects of perception with which we are surrounded. So completely, however, is the mind in this particular subjected to ph} - .*"• part I. §' 3.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 1*' sieal laws, that it has been justly observed,* we cannot, by att effort of our will, call up any one thought; and that the train of our ideas de- pends on causes which operate in a manner inexplicable by us. This observation, although it has been censured as paradoxical, is almost self evident; for, to call up a particular thought, supposes it to be already in the mind. As I shall have frequent occasion, however, to refer to the observation afterwards, I shall endeavour to obviate the only objection, which, I think, can reasonably be urged against it; and which is founded on that operation of the mind, which is commonly called recollection or intentional memory. It is evident, that before we attempt to recollect the particular cir- cumstances of any event, that event in general must have been an ob- ject of our attention. We remember the outlines of the story, but can- not at first give a complete account of it. If we wish to recall these cir- cumstances, there are only two ways in which we can proceed. We must either form different suppositions, and then consider which of these tallies best with the other circumstances of the event; or, by revolving in our mind the circumstances we remember, we must endeavour to ex- cite the recollection of the other circumstances associated with them. The first of these processes is, properly speaking, an inference of rea- son, and plainly furnishes no exception to the doctrine already delivered. We have an instance of the other mode of recollection, when we are at a loss for the beginning of a sentence in reciting a composition that we do not perfectly remember; in which case we naturally repeat over, two or three times, the concluding words of the preceding sentence, in order to call up the other words which used to be connected with them in the memory. In this instance, it is evident, that the circumstances we de- sire to remember, are not recalled to the mind in immediate consequence of an exertion of volition, but are suggested by some other circumstan- ces with which they are connected, independently of our will, by the laws of our constitution. Notwithstanding, however, the immediate dependence of the train of our thoughts on the laws of association, it must not be imagined that the will possesses no influence over it. This influence, indeed, is not exer- cised directly and immediately, as we are apt to suppose, on a superfi- cial view of the subject; but it isj nev?rtheless, very extensive in its ef- fects ; and the different degrees in which it is possessed by different in- dividuals, constitute some of the most striking inequalities among men, in point of intellectual capacity. Of the powers which the mind possesses over the train of its thoughts, the most obvious is its power of singling out any one of them at pleasure; of detaining it; and of making it a particular object of attention. By doing so, we not only stop the succession that would otherwise take place, but, in consequence of our bringing to view the less obvious rela- tions among our ideas, we frequently divert the current of our thoughts into a new channel. If, for example, when I am indolent and inactive, the name of Sir Isaac Newton accidentally occur to me, it will perhaps suggest one after another, the names of some other eminent mathemati- cians and astronomers, or of some of his illustrious contemporaries and friends : and a number o( them may pass in review before me, without engaging my curiosity in any considerable degree. In a different slate * By Lord Kaimes, and others. 148 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. V. bfmind the name of Newton will lead my thoughts to the principal incidents of his .ife, and the more striking features of his character ; or. if my mind be ardent and vigorous, will lead my attention to the sublime discoveries he made, and gradually engage me in some philosophical investigation. To every object, there are others which bear obvious and striking relations; and others, also, whose relation to it does not readily occur to us, unless we dwell upon it for some time, and place it before us \n different points of view. But the principal power we possess over the train of our idea?, ia founded on the influence which our habits of thinking have on the laws of Association ; an influence which is so great, that we may often form a pretty shrewd judgment concerning a man's prevailing turn of thought, from the transitions he makes in conversation or iu writing. It is well known, too, that by means of habit, a particular associating principle may be strengthened to such a degree, as to give us a command of all the different ideas in our mind, which have a certain relation to each other; so that when any one of the class occurs to us, we have almost a certainty that it will suggest the rest. What* confidence in his 6\vn powers must a speaker possess, when he rises without premeditation, in a popular assembly, to amuse his audience with a lively or an humor- ous speech ! Such a confidence, it is evident, can only arise from a long experience of the strength of particular associating principles. To how great a degree this part of our constitution may be influenced by habit, appears from facts which are familiar to every one. A man who has an ambition to become a punster, seldom or never fails in the attainment of his object; that is, he seldom or never fails in acquiring a power which other men hav^ not, of summoning up, on a particular occacion, a number of words different from each other in meaning, and resembling each other, core or less, in sound. I am inclined to think that even genuine wit is a habit acquired in a similar way; and that although some individuals may, from natural constitution, be more fit- ted than others to acquire this habit, it is founded in every case on a peculiarly strong association among certain classes of our ideas, which o-ives the person who possesses it, a command over those ideas which is denied to ordinary men. But there is no instance in which the effect of habits of association is more remarkable, than in those men who pos- sess a facility of rhyming. That a man should be able to express his thoughts perspicuously and elegantly, under the restraints which rhyme imposes, would appear to be incredible, if we did not know it to be fact. Such a power implies a wonderful command both of ideas and of ex- pressions, and yet daily experience shews, that it ma* be gained with very little practice. Pope tells us with respect to himself, that he could express himself not only more concisely, but more easily, in rhyme than in prose.* Nor is it only in these trifling accomplishments that we may trace the influence of habits of association. In every instance of invention, either * « when habit is once gained, nothing is so easy as practice. Cicero writes, that Antipater the Sidonian could pour forth hexameters extempore ; and lhat, whenever he chose to versify, words followed him of course. We may add to An- tipater, the ancient rhapsodies of the Greeks, and the modern improvisator! ot the Italians." Habrh's Phil. Inq. 109,11<> part I. § 4.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 149 in the fine arts, in the mechanical arts, or in the sciences, there is some new idea, or some new combination of ideas, brought to lig t by the inventor- This undoubtedly, may often happen in a way which he is unable to explain; that is, his invention may be suggested to him by some lucky thought, the origin of which he is unable to trace. But when a man possesses an habitual fertility of invention in any particular art or science, and can reiy with confidence on his inventive powers, whenever he is called upon to exert (hem, he must have acquired, by previous habits of study, a command over certain classes of his ideas, which enables him, at pleasure, to bring them under his review. The illustration of these subjects may throw light on some processes of the sjnind, which are not in general well understood ; and I shall, accord- ingly? 'n the following Section, offer a few hints with respect to those habits of association which are the foundation of wit; of the power of rhyming; of poetical fancy ; and of invention in matters of science. SECTION IV. Illustrations of the Doctrine stated in the preceding Section. I. OP WIT. According to Locke, wit consists " in the assemblage of ideas; and ••" putting those together with quickness and variety, wherein can be " found any resemblance or congruity '** 1 would add to this definition, (rather by way of explanation than amendment,) that Wit implies a power of calling up at pleasure the ideas which it combines; and I am inclined to believe, that the entertainment which it gives to the hearer, is founded, in a considerable degree, on his surprise at the commmand which the man of wit has acquired over a part of the constitution, which is so little subject to the will. That the effect of wit depends partly, at least, on the circumstance now mentioned, appears evidently from this, that we are more pleased with a bon mot, which occurs in conversation, than with one in print; and that we never fail to receive disgust from wit, when we suspect it to be premeditated. The pleasure, too, we receive from wit, is height- ened, when the original idea is started by one person, and the related idea by another. Dr. Campbell has remarked, that " a witty repartee " is infinitely more pleasing, than a witty attack; and that an allusion " will appear excellent when thrown out extempore in conversation, " which would be deemed execrable in print.'" In all these cases, the wit considered absolutely is the same. The relations which are disco- vered between the compared ideas are equally new; and yet, as soon as we suspect lhat the wit was premeditated, the pleasure we receive from it is infinitely diminished. Instances indeed may be mentioned in which we are pleased with contemplating an unexpected relation be- tween ideas, without any reference to the habits of association in the mind of the person who discovered it. A bon mot produced at the game * Essay on Human Understanding, book ii. chap. 11. 150 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. V. of cro^spurposes, would not fail to create amusement; but in such cases, our pleasure seems chiefly to arise from the surprise we feel at so extraordinary a coincidence between a question and an answer, coming from persons who had no direct communication with each other. Of the effect added to wit by the promptitude with which its com- binations are formed, Fuller appears to have had a very just idea, from what he has recorded of the social hours of our two great English Dramatists. u Jonson's parts were not so ready to run of themselves, •"• as able to answer the spur; so that it may be truly said of him, that '• he had an elaborate wit, wrought out by his own industry—Many " were the wit-combats between him and Shakspeare, which two I " behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English man of war.— " Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning; solid, but " slow in his performances. Shakspeare, with the English man of war, " lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack " about and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit *'* and invention."* 1 before observed, that the pleasure we receive from wit is increased, when the two ideas, between which the relation is discovered, are sug- gested by different persons. In the case of a bon mot occurring in con- versation, the reason of this is abundantly obvious; because, when the related ideas are suggested by different persons, we have a proof that the wit was not premeditated. But even in a written composition, we are much more delighted when the subject was furnished to the author by another person, than when he chooses the topic on which he is to display his wit. How much would the pleasure we receive from the Key to the Lock be diminished, if we suspected that the author had the key in view when he wrote lhat poem ; and that he introduced some expres- sions, in order to furnish a subject for the wit tf the commentator ? How totally would it destroy the pleasure we receive from a parody on a poem, if we suspected that both were productions of the same author ? The truth seems to be, that when both the related ideas are suggested by the same person, we have not a very satisfactory proof of any thing uncommon in the intellectual habits of the author. We may suspect that both ideas occurred to him at the same time; and we know, that in the dullest and most phlegmatic minds, such extraordinary associa- tions will sometimes take place But when the subject of the wit is fur- nished by one person, and the wit suggested by another, we have a proof, not only that the author's mind abounds with such singular asso- ciations, but that he has his wit perfectly at command. As an additional confirmation of these observations, we may remark, that the more an author is limited by his subject, the more we are pleas- ed with his wit. And, therefore, the effect of wit does not arise solely from the unexpected relations which it presents to the mind, but arises, in part, from the surprise it excites at those intellectual habits which gave it birth. It is evident, that the more the author is circumscribed in the choice of his materials, the greater must be the command which he has acquired over those associating principles on which wit depends, and of consequence, according to the foregoing doctrine, the greater must be the surprise and the pleasure which his wit produces. In Ad- dison's celebrated verses to Sir Godfrey Knelleron his picture of Georg* • History of the Worthies of England. London, 1662. part I. § 4.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 15J the First, in which he compares the painter to Phidias, and the subjects of his pern il to the Grecian DeiLes, the range of the Poet's wit was ne- cessarily confined within very narrow bounds; and what principally delights ur in that performance is, the surprising ease and felicity with which he runs the parallel between the English history and the Greek mythology. Of all the allusions which the following passage contains, there is not one, taken singly, of very extraordinary merit; and yet the effect of the whole is uncommonly great, from the singular power of combination, which so long and so difficult an exertion discovers. " Wise Phidias thus, his skill to prove, '• Through many a god advanc'd to Jove, •' And taught the polish'd rocks to shine " With airs and lineaments divine, " Till Greece amaz'd and half afraid, "Th* assembled Deities survey'd. " Great Pan, who wont to chase the fair, " And lov'd the spreading oak, was there ; " Old Saturn, too, with upcast eyes, " Beheld his abdicated skies ; " And mighty Mars for war renown'd, •' In adamantine armour frown'd : " By him the childless Goddess rose, " Minerva, studious to compose " Her twisted threads ; the web she strung, " And o'er a loom of marble hung ; " Thetis, the troubled ocean's queen, " Match'd with a mortal next was seen, " Reclining on a funeral urn, " Her short-Uv'd darling son to mourn j " The last was he, whose thunder slew " The Titan race, a rebel crew, " That from a hundred hills ally'd, "In impious league their King defy'd." According to the view which I have given of the nature of Wit, the pleasure we derive from that assemblage of ideas which it presents, is greatiy heightened and enlivened by our surprise at the command dis- played over a part of the constitution, which, in our own case, we find to be so little subject to the will. We consider Wit as a sort of feat or trick of intellectual dexterity, analogous, in some respects, to the ex- traordinary performances of jugglers and rope dancers ; and, in both cases, the pleasure we receive from the exhibition, is explicable in part, (I, by no means, say entirely) on the same principles. If these remarks be just, it seems to follow as a consequence, that those men who are most deficient in 'he power of prompt combination, will be most poignantly affected by it when exerted at the will of another : and therefore, the charge of jealousy and envy brought against rival Wits, when disposed to look grave at each other's jests, may perhaps be ob- viated in a way le-s injurious to their character. The same remarks suggest a limitation, or rather an explanation of an assertion of Lord Chesterfield's, that ■■ genuine wit never made any man laugh siuce the creation of the world." The observation, f believe to be just, if by genuine wit, we mean wit wholly divested of every mix- ture of humour; and if by laughter we mean, that convulsive and noisy agitation which is excited by the ludicrous. But there is unquestiona- bly a smile appropriated to the flashes of wit 3—a smile of surprise and 152 KLEMENTS OF THI PHILOSOPin [chtp. V. wonder ;—not altogether unlike the effect produced on the mind and the countenance, by a feat of legerdemain when executed with uncom- mon success. II. OF RHYME. The pleasure we receive from rhyme seems also to arise, partly, from our surprise at the command which the Poet must have acquired over the train of his ideas, in order to be able to express himself with ele- gance, and the appearance of ease, under the restraint which rhyme imposes. In witty or in humorous performances, this surprise serves to enliven that which the wit or the humour produces, and renders its ef- fects more sensible. How flat do the liveliest and most 'udirrous thoug'ito appear in blank verse .' And how wonderfully is the wit of Pope height- ened, by the easy and happy rhymes in which it is expressed ! It must not, however, be imagined, either in the case of wit or of rhyme, that the pleasure arises solely from our surprise ot the uncommon habits of association which the author discovers. In ihe f.-rmer case, there must be presented to the mind, an unexpected analogy or relation between different ideas; and perhaps other circumstances must concur to render the wit perfect. If the combination has no other merit than that of bringing together two'ideas which never met before, we may be surprised at its oddity, but we do n >t consider it as a proof of wit. On the contrary, the want of any analogy or relation between the combined ideas, leads us to sus- pect, that the one did not suggest the other, in consequence of any ha- bits of association ; but that the two were broi-ght together by study, or by mere accident. All that I affirm is, that when the analogy or relation is pleasing in itself, our pleasure is heightened by our surprise at the au- thors' habits of association when compared with our own. In the case of Rhyme, too, there is undoubtedly a certain degree of pleasure aris- ino- from the recurrence of the same sound. We frequently observe children amuse themselves with repeating over single words which rhyme together ; and the lower people, who derive little pleasure from poetry, excepting in so far as it affects the ear, are so ph ased with the echo of the rhymes, that when they read verses where it is not perfect, they are apt to supply the Poet's defects, by violating the common rules of pronunciation. This pleasure, however, is heightened by our admi- ration of the miraculous powers which the poet must have acquired over the train of his ideas, and over all the various modes of expression which the language affords, in order to convey instruction and entertainment, without transgressing the established laws of regular versification. In some of the lower kinds of poetry, for example, in acrostics, and in the lines which are adapted to bouts rimes, the merit lies entirely in this com- mand of thought and expression ; or in other words, in a command of ideas founded on extraordinary habits of association. Even some au- thors of a superior class occasionally shew an inclination to display their knack at rh\ ming, by introducing, at the end of the first line of a couplet, some word to which the language hardly affords a corresponding sound. Swift, in his more trifling pieces, abounds with instances of this ; and in Hudibras, when the author uses his double and triple rhymes, many part I. § 4.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 153 couplets have no merit whatever but what arises from difficulty of exe- cution. The pleasure we receive from rhyme, in serious compositions, arises from a combination of different circu-ns'ances which my present sub- ject does not lead me to investigate particularly.* I am persuaded, however, that il arise**, in part, from our surprise at the Poet's habits of association, which enable him to coivey his thoughts with ease and beauty, notwithstanding the narrow limits within whijh his choice of expression is confined. One proof of this is, that if there appear any mark of constrain:, either in the idea? or in the expression, our pleasure is proportionally diminished. The thoughts must seem to suggest each other, and the rhymes to be only an accidental circumstance The same remaik may be made on the measure of the verse. When in its greatest perfection it does not appear to be the result of labour, hut to be dictated by nature, or prompted by inspiration In Pope's best ver- ses, the idea is expressed with as little inversion of style, and with as much conciseness, precision and propriety, as the author could hhve at- tained, had he been writing prose: without any apparent exertion on his part, the words seem spontaneously to arrange themselves in the most musical numbers. •*■ While still a child, nor yet a fool to fame, " I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came." This facility of versification, it is true, may be, and probably is, in most cases, only apparent: and it is reasonable to think, that in the most perfect poetical productions, not only the choice of words, but the choice of ideas, is i-.fluenced by the rhymes. In a prose composition, the author holds on in a direct course, according to the plan he has pre- viously formed ; but in a poem, the rhymes which occur to him are per- petually diverting him to the right hand or to the left, by suggesting ideas which do not naturally rise out of his subject. This, I presume, is Butler's meaning in the following couplet: " Rhymes the rudder are of verses " With which like ships, they steer their courses." But although this may be the case in fact, the Poet must employ all his * In Elegiac poetry, the recurrence of the same sound, and the uniformity in the structure of the versification which this necessarily occasions, are peculiarly suit- ed to the inactivity or' the mind, and to the slow and equable succession of its ideas, when under the influence of tender or melancholy passions; and, accord- ingly, in such cases, even the Latin poets, though the genius of their language be very ill fitted for compositions in rhyme, occasionally indulge themselves in some- thing very nearly approaching to it. " Memnona si mater, mater ploravit Achillem, " El tangant magnas tristia fata Deas ; " Flebihs indignos Elegeia solve capillos, " Ah nimis ex vero nunc tibi nomen erit." Many other instances of the same kind might be produced from the Elegiac verses of Ovid and Tibullus. Vol. t- 20 154 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. V. art to conceal it: in so much that, if he finds himself under the necessi- ty to introduce, on account of the rhymes, a superfluous idea, or an awkward expression, he must place it in the first line of the couplet, and not in the second; for the reader, naturally presuming that the lines were composed in the order in which the author arranges them, is more apt to suspect the second line to be accommodated to the first, than the first to the second. And this slight artifice is, in general, sufficient to impose on that degree of attention with which poetry is read. Who can doubt that, in the following lines, Pope wrote the first for the sako of the second ? " A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod : " An honest man's the noblest work of God." Were the first of these lines, or a line equally unmeaning, placed last, the couplet would have appeared execrable to a person of the most mo- derate taste. It affords a strong confirmation of the foregoing observations, that the Poets of some nations have delighted in the practice of alliteration, as well as of rhyme, and have even considered it as an essential circum- stance in versification. Dr. Beattie observes, that " some ancient Eng- " lish poems are more distinguished by alliteration, than by any other po- " etical contrivance. In the works of Langland, even when no regard- "is had to rhyme, and but little to a rude sort of anapaestic measure, it " seems to have been a rule, that three words, at least, of each line " should begin with the same letter." A late author informs us, that, in the Icelandic poetry, alliteration is considered as a circumstance no less essential than rhyme.* He mentions also several other restraints, which must add wonderfully to the difficulty of versification; and which appear to us to be perfectly arbitrary and capricious. If that really be the case, the whole pleasure of the reader or hearer arises from his surprise at the facility of the Poet's composition under these complicated restraints; that is, from his surprise at the command which the Poet has acquired over his thoughts and expressions. In our rhyme, I acknowledge, that the coincidence of sound is agreeable in itself; and only affirm, that the pleasure which the ear receives from it, is heightened by the other consideration. III. OF POETICAL FANCY. There is another habit of association, which, in some men, is very remarkable; that which is the foundation of PoeticaUFancy : a talent » * " The Icelandic poetry required two things ; viz. words witb the same initial letters, and words of the same sound. It was divided into stanzas, each of which consisted of four couplets; and each of these couplets was again composed of two hemistichs, of which every one contained six syllables ; and it was not allow- ed to augment this number, except in cases of the greatest necessity." See Vaic Taoit's Letters on Iceland, p. 208. part I. § 4.] OF THE HUMAN MINEL 155 which agrees with Wit in some circumstances, but which differs from it essentially in others. The pleasure we receive from Wit, agrees in one particular with the pleasure which arises from poetical allusions; that in both cases we are pleased with contemplating an analogy between two different subjects. But they differ in this, that the man of Wit has no other aim than to combine analogous ideas ;* whereas no allusion can, with propriety, have a place in serious poetry, unless it either illustrate or adorn the principal subject. If it has both these recommendations, the allusion is perfect- If it has neither, as is often the case with the allusions of Cowley and of Young, the Fancy of the Poet degenerates into Wit. If the observations be well-founded, they suggest a rule with respect to poetical allusions, which has not always been sufficiently attended to. It frequently happens, that two subjects bear an analogy to'each other in more respects than one; and where such can be found, they undoubt- edly furnish the most favourable of all occasions for the display of Wit. But in serious poetry, I am inclined to think, that however striking these analogies may be, and although each of them might, with propri- ety, be made the foundation of a Separate allusion, it is improper, in the course of the same allusion, to include more than one of them; as, by doing so, an author discovers an affectation of Wit, or a desire of tracing analogies, instead of illustrating or adorning the subject of his composition. I formerly defined Fancy to be a power of associating ideas accord- ing to the relations of resemblance and analogy. This definitios will probably be thought too general; and to approach too near to that given of Wit. In order to discover the necessary limitations, we shall consider what the circumstances are, which please us in poetical allu- sions. As these allusions are suggested by Fancy, and are the most striking instances in which it displays itself, the received rules of Crit- ics with respect to them may throw some light on the mental power which gives them birth. 1. An allusion pleases, by illustrating* a subject comparatively ob- scure. Hence, I apprehend it will be found, that allusions from the intellectual world to the material, are more plaasing, than from the ma- terial world to the intellectual. Mason, in bis Ode to Memory, com- pares the influence of that faculty over our ideas, to the authority of a general over his troops: -----" thou, whose sway "• The throng'd ideal hosts obey; " Who bidst their ranks now vanish, now appear, " Flame in the van, or darken in the rear." Would the allusion have been equally pleasing, from a general marshal- ling his soldiers, to Memory and the succession of ideas ? The effect of a literal and spiritless translation of a work of genius, has been compared to that of the figures which we see, when we look at the wrong side of a beautiful piece of tapestry. The allusion is in- I speak here of pure and unmixed wit, and not of wit, blended, as it is most commonly, with some degree of humour. 156 PLEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. V. gwnious ard h"ppv; but the pleasure which wc receive from it nri«es, not merely from 'be analogy which it presents to us hut from the illus- tration which it affords of the *nilh »r's id a. N > «*»n •• imlv, i,i spmk- ing-of a piece oft. pestry, would think of c .'iiparing the diff r-'jice be- tween its sides, to that between an original composition and a literal translati >n! Cicero, and after him V.t, Locke, in illustrating the difficulty of at- tending to the subje. ts of our cons< iiU'-nes'-, hav. roiupar .uld have been absurd. Mr Pope's comparison of the progress of youthful curi"Sity, in the pursuits of science, to that of a traveller among t'-.e Alps, lias been much and justly, admired. How would the beauty of the aliusi >n hav<*h.-»>n diminished, if the Alps had furnished the original subject, and not the illustration.' But although this rule holds in general, I acknowledge, thu instances may be produced, from our most celebrated poetical perfoMiiau eh, of allusions from material objects, both to the .utellectual and the moral worlds. These, however, are comparatively few in number, and are not lobe found in descriptive or in dida tic works but in compositions written under the influence of some partial ar passion, or whi<*h are meant to express some peculiarity in the mind of the auth >r. Thus, a melancholy man who has met with many misfortunes in life, will be apt to moralize on every physical event, and every appearance of nature ; because his attention dwells in-re habitually on human life mid conduct, than on the material objects around h'un. This is t'e case with the banished Duke, in Shakspeare's As you like it, who, in the language of that Poet. '► Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, " Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." But this is plainly a distempered state of the mind; and the allusions please, not so much by the analogies they present, as by the picture they give of the character of the person to whom they have occurred. 2. An allusion pleases, by presenting a new and beautiful image to the mind. The analogy, or the resemblance between this image and the principal subject, is agreeable of itself, and is indeed necessary to fur- nish an apology for the transition which the writer makes ; but the pleasure is wonderfully heightened, when the new image thus present- ed is a beautiful one. The following allusion, in one of Mr. Home's tra- gedies, appears to me to unite almost every excellence : ------" Hope and fear, alternate sway'd his breast ; " Like light and shade upon a waving field, " Coursing each other, when the flying clouds " Now hide, and now reveal, the Sun." Here the analogy is remarkably perfect; not only between light and hope, and between darkness and fear, lut between the rapid succession of light and shade, and the momentary influences of these opposite part I. §4.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 157 emotions : and at the same time, the new image which is presented to us, is one of the most beautiful and sti iking in nature. The foregoing observations suggest a reason why the principal stores of Fancy are commonly supposed to be borrowed from the material world. Wit has a more extensive province, and delights to make new combinations, whatever be the nature of the compared ideas: but the favourite excursions of Fancy, are from intellectual and moral subjects to the appearances with which our senses are conversant The truth is, that such allusions please more than any others in poetry. According to this limited idea of Fancy, it presupposes, where it is possessed in an eminent degree, an extensive observation of natural objects, and a mind susceptible of strong impressions from them. It is thus only that a stock of images can be acquired : and tha* these images will be ready to pre- sent themselves, whenever any analogous subject occurs. And hence probably it is, that poetical genius is almost always united with an ex- qui.-ite sensibility to the beauties of nature. Before leaving the subject of fancy, it may not be improper to remark, that its two qualities are, liveliness and luxuriancy. The word lively re- fers to the quickness of the association. The word rich or luxurient to the variety of associated ideas. IV. OF INVENTION IN THE ARTS AND SCIENCES. To these powers of Wit and Fancy, that of Invention in the Arts and Sciences has a striking resemblance. Like them, it implies a command over certain classes of ideas, which in oidlnary men are not equally sub- ject to the will: and like them, too, it is the result if acquired habits, and not the original gift of nature. Of the process of the mind in scientific invention, I propose after- wards to treat fully under the article of Reasoning; and I shall there- fore confine myself at present to a few detached remarks upon some views of the subject which are suggested by the foregoing inquiries. Before we proceed, it may be proper to take notice of the distinction between Invention and Discovery. The object of the former, as has been frequently remarked is to produce something which had no exist- ence before; that of the latter, to bring to light something which did exist, but which was concealed from common observation. Thus we say Otto Guerricke invented the air pump; Sanctorius invented the thermometer; Newton and Gregory invented the reflecting telescope: Galileo discovered the solar spots; and Harvey discovered the circula- tion of the blood. It appears, therefore, that improvements in the Arts are properly called inventions; and that facts brought to light by means of observation, are properly called discoveries. Agreeable to this analogy is the use which we make of these words, when we apply them to subjects purely intellectual. As truth is eternal and immutable, and has no dependence on our belief or disbelief of it, a person who brings to light a truth formerly unknown, is said to make a discovery. A person, on the other hand, who contrives a new method of discovering truth, is called an inventor. Pythagoras, we say, discover- 158 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. V. ed the forty-seventh proposition of Euclid's first book ; Newton dis- covered the binomial theorem : but he invented the method of prime and ultimate ratio's; and he invented the method of fluxions. In general every advancement in knowledge is considered as a dis- covery; every contrivance by which,we produce an effect, or accom- plish an end, is considered as an invention. Discoveries in science, therefore, unless they are made by accident, imply the exerci.*e of in- vention ; and, accordingly, the word invention, is commonly used to ex- press originality of genius in the Sciences, as well as in the Arts. It is in this general sense that I employ it in the following observations. It was before remarked, that in every instance of invention, there is some new idea, or some new combination of ideas, which is brought to light by the inventor; and that, although this may sometimes happen in a way which he is unable to explain, yet when a man possesses an habitual fertility of invention in any particular Art or.Science, and can rely, with confidence, on his inventive poweis. whenever he is called upon to exert theni; he must have acquired, by previous habits of study, a command over those classes of his ideas, which are subservient to the particular effort that he wishes to make. In what manner this command is acquired, it is not possible, perhaps, to explain completely ; but it appears to me to be chiefly in the two following ways. In the first place, by his habits of speculation, he may have arranged his know- ledge in such a manner as may render it easy for him to combine, at pleasure, all the various ideas in his'mind, which have any relation to the subject about which he is occupied: or, secondly, he may have learned by experience certain general rules, by means of which he can direct the train of his thoughts into those channels, in which the ideas he is in quest of may be most likely to occur to him. I. The former of these observations I shall not stop to illustrate par- ticularly at present, as the same subject' will occur afterwards, under the article of Memory. It is sufficient for my purpose, in this chapter, to remark, that as habits of speculation have a tendency to classify our ideas, by leading us to refer particular facts and particular truths to general principles ; and as it is from an approximation and comparison of related ideas, that new di coveries in most instances result; the know- ledge of the philosopher, even supposing that it is not more extensive, is arranged in a manner much more favourable to invention, than in a mind unaccustomed to system. How much invention depends on a proper combination of the mate- rials of our knowledge, appears from the resources which occur to men of the lowest degree of ingenuity, when they are pressed by any alarm- ing difficulty and danger, and from the unexpected exertions made by very ordinary characters, when called to situations which rouse their latent powers." In such cases, I take for granted, that necessity ope- rates in producing invention, chiefly by concentrating the attention of the mind to one set of ideas, by leading us to view these in every light, and to combine them variously with each other. As the same idea may be connected with an infinite variety of others by different rela- tions, it may, according to circumstances, at one time, suggest one of these ideas, and, at another time, a different one. When we dwell long on the same idea, we obtain all the others to which it is any way related, and thus an* furnished with materials on which our powers of partt.§i.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 159 judgment and reasoning may be employed. The effect of the division of labour in multiplying mechanical contrivances, is to be explained partly on the same principle. It limits the attention to a particular sub- ject, and familiarizes to the mind all the possible combinations of ideas which have any relation to it. These observations suggest a remarkable difference between Inven- tion and Wit. The former depends, in most instances, on a combina- tion of those ideas, which are connected by the less obvious principles of association; and it may be called forth in almost any mind by the pressure of external circumstances. The ideas which must be combinedj in order to produce the latter, are chiefly such as are associated by those slighter connexions which lake place when the mind is careless and dis- engaged. *If you have real wit," says Lord Chesterfield, "it will "flow spontaneously, and you need not aim at it; for in that case, the "rule of the gospel is reversed; and it will prove, seek and you shall " not find.'" Agreeably to this observation, wit is promoted by a cer- tain degree of intoxication, which prevents the exercise of that attention which is necessary for invention in matters of Science. Hence too it is, that those who have the reputation of Wits, are commonly men confi- dent in their own powers, who allow the train of their ideas to follow in a great measure its natural course, and hazard, in company, every thing, good or bad, that occurs to them. Men of modesty and taste seldom attempt wit in a promiscuous society, or if they are forced to make such an exertion, they are seldom successful. .Such men, how- ever, in the circle of their friends, to whom they can unbosom them- selves without reserve, are frequently the most amusing and the most interesting of companions; as the vivacity of their wit is tempered by a correct judgment, and refined manners, and as its effect is heightened by that sensibility and delicacy, with which we so rarely find it accom- panied in the common intercourse of life. When a man of wit makes an exertion to distinguish himself, his sal- lies are commonly too far fetched to please. He brings his mind into a state approaching to that of the inventor, and becomes rather ingenious than witty. This is often the case with the writers whom Johnson dis- tinguishes by the name of the Metaphysical Poets. Those powers of invention, which necessity occasionally calls forth in uncultivated minds, some individuals possess habitually. The rela- ted ideas which, in the case of the former, are brought together by the slow efforts of attention and recollection, present themselves to the lat- ter, in consequence of a more systematical arrangement of their know- ledge. The instantaneousness with which such remote combinations are effected, sometimes appear so wonderful, that we are apt to ascribe it to something like inspiration; but it. must be remembered, lhat when a- ny subject strongly and habitually occupies the thoughts, it gives us an interest in the observation of the most trivial circumstance which we sus- pect to have any relation to it, however distant; and by thus rendering the common objects and occurrences which the accidents of life present to us, subservient to one particular employment of the intellectual pow- ers, establishes in the memory a connexion between our favourite pur- suit, and all the materials with which experience and reflection have supplied us for the farther prosecution of it, II. I observed, in the second place, lhat invention may be facilitated 160 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chfrp. Y. by general rules, which enable the inventor to direct the train of his Ihougl ts into particular channels. These rules (t<> ascertHin winch ou^ht to be one principal object of the logician) will afterward- fill un- der my consideration, when I come to examine those in»e||e. timl pro- cesses which are subservient to the discovery of truth. At present, I shall confine myself to a few general remarks; in stilting which I have no other aim, than to shew to how grent a degree invention depends on cultivation and habit, even in those sciences in which it is generally supposed that every thing depends on natuial genius. When we consider the geometrical discoveries of the ancients, in the form in which they are exhibited in the greater part of the works which have survived to o'ir times, it is seldom possible for us to trace the steps by which they were led to tiieir conclusions: and, indeed, the objects of this science are so unlike those of all others, that it is not unnatural for a person when he enters on the study, to be dazzled by its novelty, and to form an exaggerated conception of the genius of those men who first brought to light such a variety of truths, so profound and so re- mote from the ordinary course of our speculations. We find, however, that even at the time when the ancient analysis was unknown to the moderns, such mathematicians as had attended to the progress of the mind in the discovery of truth, concluded a priori, that the discoveries of the Greek geometers did not, at first, occur to them in the order in which they are stated in their writings. The prevailing opinion was, that they had been possessed of some secret method of investigation, which they carefully concealed from the world ; and that they publish- ed the result of their labours in such a form, as they thought would be most likely to excite the admiration of their readers. " O quam bene foret," says Petrus Nonius, " si qui in scientiis mathematicis scripserint "authores, scripta reliquissent inventa sua eadem methodo, et per eos- "dem discursus, quibus ipsi in ea prinium inciderunt; et non, ut in " mechanica loquitur Aristoteles de anificibu*, qui nobis foris ostendunt "suas quas fecerint machinas, sed arlificium abscondunt, ut inagis ap- »' pareant admirabiles. Est utique iuventio in arte qualibet diversa "multum a traditione: neque putandum estplurimas Euclidis et Archi- " medis propositiones fuisse ab ill is ea via inventas qua nobis illi ipsas "tradiderunt."* The revival of the ancient analysis by some late mathematicians in this country, has in part, justified these remarks, by shewing to how great a degree the inventive powers of the Greek ge- ometers were aided by that method of investigation ; and by exhibiting some striking specimens of address in the practical application of it. The solution of problems, indeed, it may be said, is bul one mode in which mathematical invention may be displayed The discovery of new truths is what we chiefly admire in an original genius; and the method of analysis gives us no satisfaction wiih respect to the process by which they are ohtaii-ed. To remove this difficulty completely, by explaining all the various ways in which new theorems may be brought to light, would lead to inquiries foreign to this work. In order, however, to render the pro- * See some other passages to the same purpose, quoted from different writers, by Dr. Simson, in the preface to his Restoration of tke Loci Plani of AppoUomu* pergaeus, Glasg. 1749. part I. § 4.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 161 cess of the mind, on such occasions, a little less mysterious than it is commonly supposed to be, it may be proper to remark, that the most copious source of discoveries is the investigation of problems; which seldom fails (even although we should not succeed in the attainment of the object which we have in view) to exhibit to us some relations for- merly unobserved among the quantities which are under consideration. Of so great importance is it to concentrate the attention to a particular subject, and to check that wandering and dissipated habit of thought, which, in the case of most persons, renders their speculations barren of any profit either to themselves or to others. Many theorems, too, have been suggested by analogy; many have been investigated from truths formerly known, by altering or by generalizing the hypothesis; and many have been obtained by a species of induction. An illustration of these various processes of the mind would not only lead to new and curious remarks, but would contribute to diminish that blind admiration of original genius, which is one of the chief obstacles to the improve- ment of science. The history of natural philosophy, before and after the time of Lord Bacon, affords another very striking proof, how much the powers of in- vention and discovery may be assisted by the study of method : and in all the sciences, without exception, whoever employs his genius with a regular and habitual success, plainly shews, that it is by means of gene- ral rules, that his inquiries are conducted. Of these rules, there may be many which the inventor never stated to himself in words; and, per- haps, he may even be unconscious of the assistance which he derives from them ; but their influence on his genius appears unquestionably from the uniformity with which it proceeds; and in proportion as they can be ascertained by his own speculations, or collected by the logician from an examination of his researches, similar powers of invention will be placed within the reach of other men, who apply themselves to the same study. The following remarks, which a truly philosophical artist has applied to painting, may be extended with some triflirtg alterations, to all the different employments of our intellectual powers. " What we now call genius begins, not where rules, abstractedly ta- " ken, end ; but where known, vulgar, and trite rules have no longer 11 any place.—It must of necessity be, that works of genius, as well as " every other effect, as it must have its cause, must likewise have its " rules; it cannot be by chance, that excellencies are produced with " any constancy, or any certainty, for this is not the nature of chance ; " but the rules by which men of extraordinary parts, and such as are " called uieii of genius, work, are either such as they discover by their " own peculiar observation, or of such a nice texture as not easily to ad- " mit handling or expressing in words. " Unsubstantial, however, as these rules may seem, and difficult as it " may be to convey them in writing, they are still seen and felt in the " mind of the artist; and he works from them with as much certainty, " as if tuey were embodied, as I may say, upon paper. It is true, these " refined principles cannot be always made palpable, like the more gross " rules of \i*'.; yet it does not follow, but that the mind may be put in " sujh a train, that it shali perceive, by a kind of scientific sense, that " propriety which words can but very feebly suggest."* Discourses by Sir Joshua Reynolds. 162 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. V. SECTION V. Application oFthc Principles stated in the foregoing Sections of this Chapter, to explain the Phenomena ot Dreaming. With respect to the Phenomena of Drenming, three different ques- tions may be proposed. First; What is the >tnteof the mind in sleep ? or, in other words, what fv ullies then continue to operate, and what faculties are then suspended ? Secondly; how far do our dreams ap- pear to be hifluenced by our bodily sensations; and in what respects do they vary, according to the different conditions of the body in health, and in sickness ? Thirdly; what is the change which sleep produces on the parts of the body, with which our mental operations are more im- mediately connected ; and how does this change operate, in diversify- ing, so remarkably, the phenomena which our minds then exhibit, from those of which we are conscious in our waking hours ? Of these three questions, the first belongs to the philosophy of the Human Mind ; and it is to this question that the following iuquiry is almost entirely con- fined. The second is more particularly interesting to the Medical in- quirer, and does not properly fall under the plan of this work. The third seems to me to relate to a subject, which is placed beyond the reach of the human faculties. It will be granted, that, if we could ascertain the slate of the mind in sleep, so as to be able to resolve the various phenomena of dreaming into a smaller number of general principles ; and still more, if we could resolve them into one general fact, we should be advanced a very im- portant step in our inquiries upon this subject; even although we should find it impossible to shew, in what manner this change in the state of the mind results from the change which sleep produces in the 6tate of the body. Such a step would at least gratify, to a certain extent, that dis- position of our nature which prompts us to ascend from particular facts to general laws, and which is the foundation of all our philosophical researches; and in the present instance, I am inclined to think, that it carries us as far as our imperfect faculties enable us to proceed. In conducting this inquiry with respect to the state of the mind in sleep, it seems reasonable to expect, that some light may be obtained from an examination of the cir. umstances which accelerate or retard its approach ; for when we are disposed to rest, it is natural to imagine, that the state of the mind approaches to its state in sleep, more nearly, than when we feel ourselves alive and active, and capable of applying all ouf various faculties to their proper purposes. In general, it may be remarked, that the approach of sleep is accele- rated by every circumstance which diminishes or suspends the exercise of the mental powers, and is retarded by every thing which has a con- trary tendency. When we wish for sleep, we naturally endeavour to withhold, as much as possible, all the active exertions of the mind, by disengaging our attention from every interesting subject of thought. When we are disposed to keep awake, we naturally fix our attention on some subject which is calculated to afford employment to our intel- lectual powers, or to rouse and exercise the active principles of our nature. part i. § 5.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 163 It is well known, that there is a particular class of sounds which com- pose us to sleep. The hum of bees; the murmur of a fountain; the reading of an uninteresting discourse, have this tendency in a remarka- ble degree If we examine this class of sounds, we shall find that it consists wholly of such as are fitted to withdraw the attention of the mind from its own thoughts, and are, at the same time, not sufficiently interesting to engage its attention to themselves. It is also matter of common observation, that children and persons of little reflection, who are chiefly occupied about sensible objects, and whose mental a tivity is, in a great measure, suspended, as soon as their perceptive powers are unemployed, find it extremely difficult to con- tinue awake, when they are deprived of their usual engagements. The same thing has been remarked of savages, whose time, like that of the lower animals, is almost completely divided between sleep and their bodily exertions.* From a consideration of these facts, it seems reasonable to conclude, that in sleep those opera.ions of the mind are suspended, which depend on our volition; foi if it be certain, that before we fall asleep, we must withhold, as much as we are able, the exercise of all our different pow- ers, it is scarcely to be imagined, that as soon as sleep commences, these powers should again begin to be exerted. The more probable conclu- sion is, that when we are desirous to procure sleep, we bring both mind and body, as nearly as we can, into that state in which they are to con- tinue after sleep commences. The difference, therefore, between the state of the mind when we are inviting sleep, and when we are actually asleep, is this; that in the former case, although its active exertions be suspended, we can renew them, if we please. In the other case, the will loses its influence overall our powers both of mind and body, in conse- quence of some physical alteration in the system, which we shall never, probably, be able to explain. In order to illustrate this conclusion a little farther, it may be proper to remark, lhat if the suspension of our voluntary operations in sleep be admitted as a fact, there are only two suppositions which can be formed concerning its cause. The one is, that the power of volition is suspend- ed ; the other, that the will loses its influence over those faculties of the mind, and those members of the body, which, during our waking hours, are subjected to its authority. If it can be shewn, then, that the former supposition is not agreeable to fact, the truth of the latter seems to fol- low as a necessary consequence. 1. That the power of volition is not suspended during sleep, appears from the efforts which we are conscious of making while in that situation. We dream, for example, that we are in danger, and we attempt to call out for assistance. The attempt, indeed, is in general, unsuccessful, and the sounds which we emit are feeble and indistinct; but this only confirms, or, rather, is a necessary consequence of the supposition, that, in sleep, the connexion between the will and our voluntary operations. is disturbed or interrupted. The continuance of the power of volition is demonstrated by the effort, however ineffectual. "The existence of the Negro slaves in America appears to participate more of sensation than of reflection. To this must be ascribed, their disposition tq sleep when abstracted from their diversions, and unemployed in their labour. Aa animal whose body is at rest, and who does not reflect, must be disposed to sleep of course." Notes on Virginia by Mr. Jbkebsok, p. 2 55. 164 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. \. In like manner, in the course of an alarming dream, wo are some- times conscious of makittg an exertion to save ourselves by flight from ah apprehended danger, but in .«pite of all our efforts, we continue in bed. In such cases, we commonly dream, that we are attempting to es- ape, and are prevented by some external obstacle; but the fact seems to be, that the body is, at that time, not subject to the will. Du- ring the disturbed rest which we sometimes have when the body is in- disposed, the mind appears to retain some power over it; but as, even in these cases, the motions which are mode, consist n.ther of a general agit tion of the whole system, than of the regular exertion of a parti- cular member of it, with a view to produce a certain eff»ct, it is reason- able to conclude, that, in perfectly sound sleep, the mind, although it reta'n- the power of volition, retains no influence whatever over the bodily organs. , In that particular condition of the system, which is known by the name of incubus, we are conscious of a total want of power over the bocy : and, 1 believe, the common opinion is, that it is tfiis want of pow- er wh eh distinguishes the incubus from all the other modificaiions of sleep. But the more probable supposition seems to be that every spe- cies iff sleep is ao-ompanied with a suspension of the faculty of volun- tary motion; and that the incubus has nothing peculiar in it but this, that the uneasy sensations which are produced by the accidental pos- ti.re of the body, and which we find it impossible to remove by our own effoit.-, render us distinctly conscious of our incapacity to move. One thing i? certain, that the instant of our awaking, and of our recovering the • omiuand of our bodily organs, is one and the same. 2. The same conclusion is confirmed by a different view of the sub- ject. Ii is probable, as was already observed, that when wp are anx- ious to procure sleep, the state into which we natur.illy bring the mind, approaches to its state afier sleep commences. N>-w it is manifest, that the means which nature directs us to employ on such ocensi- n-, is not to suspend the power of volition, but to suspend the .exertion of those powers whose exercise depends on volition. If it were neces.-ary that volition should he suspended before we fall asleep, it would be impos- sible fi,r us, by our own efforts, to hasten the moment of re>t. The ve- ry supposition of such efforts is absurd, for it implies a continued will, to gus'.eud the acts of the will According to the foregoing doctrine with respect to the state of the mind in sleep, the effect which is produced on our mental operations, is strikingly analog;.us to lhat which is produced on our bodiiy powers. From the . bservations which have been already made, it is man fest, that in sleep, the body is, in a very inconsiderable degree, if at all, sub- j" t to our command. The vital and involuntary motions, however, s .ffer no interruption, but go on as when we aj"e awake, in consequence of the operation of .-ome cause unknown to us. In like manner, it would a pear, that those operations of the mind which depend on our volition are suspended, whi'e certain other operations are, at least, or casionally, c-itried on. This analogy naturally suggest- the idea, that all our men- tal < peratious, which are independent of our will, may continue >'uring sleep; ai,d tnai the phenoin na of dreaming niay, perhaps, be produced by these, diversified in their apparent effects, in consequence of the sus- pension oi our voluntary powers. part i. § 5.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 16/) If the appearances which the mind exhibits during sleep, are found to be explicable on this general principle, it will possess all the evidence which the nature of the subject admits of. It was formerly shewn, that the train of thought in the mind does not depend immediately on our will, but is regulated by certain general laws of association. At the same time, it appeared, that among the various subjects which thus spontaneously present themselves to our notice, we have the power of singling out any one that we choose to consider, and of making it a particular object of attention : and that by doing so. we not only can stop the train that would otherwise have succeeded, but frequently can divert the current of our thoughts into a new channel. It also appeared, lhat we have a power (which may be much improved by exercise) of recalling past occurrences to the memory, bya volunta- ry effort of recollection. The indirect influence which the mind thus possesses over the train of its thoughts it. so great, that during the whole time we are awake, excep- ting in those cases in which we fall into what is called a reverie, and suffer our thoughts to follow their natural course, the order of their suc- cession is always regulated more or less by the will. The will, indeed, in regulating the train pf thought, can operate only (as I have already shewed) by availing itself of the established laws of association; but still it has the power of rendering this train veiy different fnsun what it would have been, if these laws had taken place without its interference. From these principles, combined with the general fact which I have endeavoured to establish, with respect to the state of the mind in sleep, two obvious consequences follow ; First, That when we are in this situa- tion, the succession of our thoughts, in so far as it depends on the laws of association, may be carried on by the operation of the same unknown causes by which it is produced while we are awake ; and, Secoi dly, that the order of our thoughts, in these two states of the mind, must be very different; in as much as, in the one, it depends solely on the laws of association, and in the other, on these laws, combined with our own voluntary exertions. In order to ascertain how far these conclusions ar<» agreeable to truth, it is r.ecessary to compare them with the known phenomena of dream- ing. For which purpose, I shall endeavour to shew, First, that the suc- cession of our thoughts in sleep is regulated by the same general laws of association, to which il is subjected while we are awake; and Secondly, That the circumstances which discriminate dreaming from our waking thoughts, are such as must necessarily arise from the suspension of the influence of the will. 1. That the succession of our thoughts in sleep, is regulated by the same general laws of association, which influence the mind while we are awake, appears from the following considerations. I. Our dreams are frequently suggested to us by bodily sensations: and with these, it is well known, from what we experience while awake, that particular ideas are frequently very strongly associated. 1 have been told by a friend, that having occasion, inconsequence of an indis- position, to apply a bottle of hot water to his feet when he went to bed, he dreamed that he was making a journey to the top of Mount iE(na,and that he found the heat of the ground almost insupportable. Another person, having a blister applied to his head, dreamed that he was scalp- 106 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY ffhap. V. ed by a party of Indians. I believe every one who is in the habit of dreaming, will recollect instances in his own case, of a similar nature. 2. Our dreams are influenced by the prevailing temper of the mind ; and vary, in their complexion according as our habitual disposition, at the time, inclines us to cheerfulness or to melancholy. Not that this observation holds without exception ; but it holds so generally, ns must convince us, that the slate of our spirits has some effect on our dreams, as well as on our waking thoughts Indeed, in the latter case, no le6s than in the former this effect may be counteracted, or modified, by va- rious other circumstances. After having made a narrow escape from any alarming danger, we are apt to awake, in the course of oursleep, with sudden starlings, ima- gining lhat we are drowning, or on the brink of a precipice. A severe misfortune, which has affected the mind deeply, influences our dieums in a similar way, and suggests to us a variety of adventures, analogous, in some measure, to that event from which our distress arises. Such, according to Virgil, were the dreams of the forsaken Dido. •'----\git ipse furentem, '■ I i somnis ferus ./Eneas ; senrvperque relinqui, " Sola sibi; semper longam incomitata videtur, " Ire viam, et Tyrios deserta quuerere terra.'' 3. Our dreams are influenced by our prevailing habits of association while awake. In a former part of this work, I considered the extent of that power which the mind .may acquire over the train of its thoughts ; and I ob- served, that those intellectual diversities among men, which we com- monly refer to peculiarities of genius, are, at least in a great measure, resolvable into differences in their habits of association. One man pos- sesses a rich and beautiful fancy, which is at all times obedient to his will. Another possesses a quickness of recollection, which enables him, at a moments warning, to bring together all the results of his past expe- rience, and of his past reflections, which can be of use for illustrating any proposed subject. A third can, without effort, collect his attention to the most abstract questions in philosophy, can perceive, at a glance, the shortest and the most effectual process for arriving at the truth, and can banish from his mind every extraneous idea, which fancy or casual asso- ciation may suggest, to distract his thoughts, or to mislead his judgment. A fourth unites all these powers in a capacity of perceiving truth with an almost intuitive rapidity, and in an eloquence which enables him to command, at pleasure, whatever his memory and his fancy can supply, to illustrate and to adorn it. The occasional exercise which such men make of their powers, may undoubtedly he said, in one sense, to be un- premeditated or unstudied ; but they all indicate previous habits of med- itation'or study, as unquestionably, as the dexterity of the expert ac- countant, or the rapid execution of the professional musician. From what has been said, it is evident, that a train of thought which, in one man, would require a painful effort of study, may, in another, be almost spontaneous ; nor is it to be doubted, that the reveries of studi- ous men, even when they allow, as much as they can, their thoughts to follow their own course, are more or less connected together by those principles of association, which their favourite pursuits tend more par- ticularly to strengthen. part I. §*5.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 167 The influence of the same habits may be traced distinctly in sleep. There are probably few mathematicians, who have not dreamed of an interesting problem, and who have not even fancied that they were pro- secuting the investigation of it with much success. They whose ambi- tion leads them to the study of eloquence, are frequently conscious, du- ring sleep, of a renewal of their daily occupations ; and sometimes feel themselves possessed of a fluency of speech, which they never experi- enced before. The Poet, in his dreams, is transported into Elysium, and leaves the vulgar and unsatisfactory enjoyments of humanity, to dwell in those regions of enchantment and rapture, which have been created by the divine imaginations of Virgil and of Tasso. " And hither Morpheus sent his kindest dreams, " Raising a world of gayer tinct and grace ; " O'er which were shadowy cast Elysian gleams, '• That play'd, in waving lights, from place to place, " And shed a roseate smile on Nature's face. " Not Titian's pencil e'er could so array, " So fleece with clouds the pure ethereal space; " Nor could it e'er such melting forms display, ** As loose on flowery beds all languishingly lay. " No, fair illusions ! artful phantoms, no! " My muse will not attemptyour fairy land : " She has no colours, that like your's can glow; " To catch your vivid scenes, too gross her hand."* As a farther proof that the succession of our thoughts in dreaming is influenced by our prevailing habits of association, it may be remarked, that the scenes and occurrences which most frequently present them- selves to the mind while we are asleep, are the scer.es and occurrences of childhood and early youth. The facility of association is then much great- er than in more advanced years; and although, during the day, the mem- ory of the evenls thus associated, may be banished by the objects and pursuits which press upon our senses, it retains a more permanent hold of the mind than any of our subsequent acquisitions; and, like the knowledge which we possess of our mother tongue, is, as it were, inter- woven and incorporated with all its most essential habits. Accordingly, in old men, whose thoughts are, in a great measure, disengaged from the world, the transactions of their middle age, which once seemed so important, are often obliterated ; while the mind dwells, as in a dream, on the sports and the companions of their infancy. I shall only observe farther, on this head, that in our dreams, as well as when awake, we occasionally make use of words as an instrument of thought. Such dreams, however, do not affect the mind with such emo- tions of pleasure and of pain, as those in which the imagination is occu- pied with particular objects of sense. The effect of philosophical stu- dies, in habituating the mind to the almost constant employment of this instrument, and of consequence, its effect in weakening the imagination, was formerly remarked. If I am not mistaken, the influence of these circumstances may also be traced in the history of our dreams; which in youth, commonly involve, in a much greater degree, the exercise of imagination, and affect the mind with much more powerful emotions, than when we begin to employ our maturer faculties in more °*eneral and abstract speculations. * Castle of Indolence. 168 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY tylUp. V. From these different observations, we are authorized to conclude, that the same laws of association which regulate the train of our thoughts while we are awake, continue to operate during sleep. I now proceed to consider, how far the circumstances which discriminate dreaming from our waking thoughts, correspond with those which might be ex- pected to reMilt from the suspension of (he inflti'Uice of the will. 1. If the influence of the will be suspended during sleep, all our vo- luntary operations, such as recollection, reasoning, &,*. must also be suspended. That this really is the case, the extravagance and inconsistency of our dreams are suffieit ut proofs. We frequently confound together times and places the most remote from each other; and, in the course of the same dream, conceive the same person as existing in different parts of the world. Sometimes we imagine ourselves conversing with a dead friend, without remembering the circumstances of his death, although perhaps it happened but a fewdays before, and affected us deeply. All this proves clearly, that the subjects which then occupy our thoughts. are such as present themselves to the mind spontaneously ; and that we have no power of employing our reason in comparing together the dif- ferent parts of our dreams, or even of exerting an act of recollection, in order to ascertain how far they are consistent and possible. The process of reasoning, in which we sometimes fancy ourselves to be engaged during sleep, furnish no exception to the foregoing obser- vation ; for although every such process, the first time we form it, im- plies volition ; and, in particular, implies a recollection of the premises, till we arrive at the conclusion ; yet when a number of truths have been often presented to us as necessarily connected with each other, this series may afterwards pass through the mind, according to the laws of associ- ation, wit'out any more activity ou our part, than in those trains of thought wjiich are the most loose and incoherent. Nor is this mere theory. I may venture to appeal to the consciousness of every man ac- customed to drea.i., whether his reasonings during sleep do not seem to be carried on without anyexerlion of his will, and with a degree of fa- cility, of which he was never conscious while awake. Air. Addison, in one of his Spectators, has made this observation ; and his testimony, in the present instance, is of the greater weight, that he had no particular theory oh the subject to support- *•• There is not" (says he) " a more " painful action of the mind than invention, yet in dreams, it works with " lhat ease a >d activity, that we are not sensible when the faculty is cm- •' ployc-d. For iuslance, I believe every one, sometime or other, dreams " that he is reading p ipers, books, or letters; in which case the inven- ■'* tion prompts -*o readily, thai ttio mind is imposed on, and mistakes its " own suggestions for the compositions of another."* 2. If the influence of the will during sleep be suspended, the mind will remain as passive, while its thoughts change from one subject to another, as it does during our waking hour.-, while different perceptible objects are presented to our senses. Of this passive state of the mind in our dreams, it is unnecessary to multiply proofs; as it has always been considered as one of the most extraordinary circumstances with which they are accompanied. If our dreams, as well as our waking thoughts, were subject to the will, is it not natural to conclude, that, in the one case, as well as in the other, we * No. 487. part I. §5.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 169 would endeavour to banish, as much as we could, every idea which had a tendency to disturb us; and detain those only which we found to be agreeable ? So far, however, is this power over our thoughts from be- ing exercised, that we are frequently oppressed, in spite of all our efforts to the contrary, with dreams which affect us with the most painful emo- tions. And, indeed, it is matter of vulgar remark, that our dreams are, in every case, involuntary on our part; and that they appear to be ob- truded on us by some external cause. This fact appeared so unaccoun- table to the late Mr. Baxter, that it gave rise to his very whimsical the- ory, in which he ascribes dreams to the immediate influence of separate spirits on the mind. 3. If the influence of the will be suspended during sleep, the concep- tions which we then form of sensible objects will be attended with a belief of their real existence, as much as the perception of the same ob- jects is while we are awake. In treating of the power of Conception, I formerly observed, that our belief of the separate and independent existence of the objects of our perceptions, is the result of experience ; which teaches Us that these perceptions do not depend on our will. If I open my eyes, I cannot prevent myself from seeing the prospect before me. The case is differ- ent with respect to our conceptions. While they occupy the mind, to the exclusion of every thing else, I endeavoured to shew, that they are always accompanied with belief; but as we can banish them from the mind, during our waking hours, at pleasure, and as the momentary be- lief which they produce, is continually checked by the surrounding ob- jects of our perceptions, we learn to consider them as fictions of our own creation ; and, excepting in some accidental cases, pay no regard to them in the conduct of life. If the doctrine, however, formerly stated with respect to conception, be just, and if, at the same time, it be al- lowed, that sleep suspends the influence of the will over the train of our thoughts, we should naturally be led to expect, that the same belief which accompanies perception while we are awake, should accompany the conceptions which occur to us in our dreams. It is scarcely neces- sary for me to remark, how strikingly this conclusion coincides with acknowledged facts. May it not be considered as some confirmation of tfie foregoing doc- trine, that when opium fails in producing complete sleep, it commonly produces one of the effects of sleep, by suspending the activity of the mind, and throwing it into a reverie; and that while we are in this state, our conceptions frequently affect us nearly in the same manner, as if the objects conceived were present to our senses ?* Another circumstance with respect to our conceptions during sleep, deserves our notice. As the subjects which we then think upon, occupy the mind exclusively; and as the attention is not diverted by the objects of our external senses, our conceptions must be proportionably lively and steady. Every person knows how faint the conception is which we form of any thing, with our eyes open, in comparison of what we can form with our eyes shut: and that, in proportion as we can suspend the exercise of all our other senses, the liveliness of our conception in- creases. To this cause is to be ascribed, in part, the effect which the • See the Baron de Tott's Account of the Opium-takers at Constantinople. vol. I. 22 170 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. V. dread of spirits in the dark has on some persons, who are fully convinc- ed in speculation, that their apprehensions are groundless ; and to this also is owing the effect of any accidental perception in giving them a momentary relief from their terrors. Hence the remedy which nature points out to us, when we find ourselves overpowered by imagination. If every thing around us be silent, we endeavour to create a noise, by speaking aloud, or beating with our feet; that is, we strive to divert the attention from the subjects of our imagination, by presenting an object to our powers of perception. The conclusion which I draw from these observations is, that, as there is no state of the body in which our per- ceptive powers are so totally unemployed as in sleep, it is natural to think, that the objects which we conceive or imagine, must then make an impression on the mind, beyond comparison greater, than any thing of which we can have experience while awake. From these principles may be derived a simple, and, I think, satisfac- tory explanation of what some writers have represented as the most mysterious of all the circumstances connected with dreaming; the inac- curate estimate we are apt to form of Time, while we are thus employ- ed;—an inaccuracy which sometimes extends so far, as to give to a single instant the appearance of hours, or perhaps of days. A sudden noise, for example, suggests a dream connected with that perception ; and, the moment afterwards, this noise has the effect of waking us, and yet, during that momentary interval, a long series of circumstances has passed before the imagination. The story quoted by Mr. Addison* from the Turkish Tales, of the Miracle wrought by a Mahometan Doctor, to convince an infidel Sultan, is, in such cases, nearly verified. The facts I allude to at present afe generally explained by supposing, that, in our dreams, the rapidity of thought is greater than while we are awake: but there is no necessity for having recourse to such a supposi- tion. The rapidity of thought is, at all times, such, that, in the twink- ling of an eye, a crowd of ideas may pass before us, to which it would re- quire a long discourse to give utterance, and transactions may be con- ceived, which it would require days to realize. But, in sleep, the con- ceptions of the mind are mistaken for realities; and, therefore, our esti- mates of time will be formed, not according to our experience of the ra- pidity of thought, but according to our experience of the time requisite for realizing what we conceive. Something perfectly analogous to this may be remarked in (he perceptions we obtain by the sense of sight. When I look into a shew-box, where the deception is imperfect, I see only a set of paltry daubings of a few inches diameter; but, if the repre- sentation be executed with so much skill, as to convey to me the idea of a distant prospect, every object before me swells in its dimensions, in proportion to the extent of space which I conceive it to occupy, and what seemed before to be shut up within the limits of a small wooden frame, is magnified, in my apprehension, to an immense landscape of woods, rivers, and mountains. The phenomena which we have hitherto explained, take place when sleep seems to be complete; that is, when the mind loses its influence over all those powers whose exercise depends on its will. There are, however, many cases in which sleep seems to be partial ; that is, when * SfJCTATOJl, No. 94. part II. § 1.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 171 t the mind loses its influence over some powers, and retains it over others. In the case of the somnambuli, it retains its power over the limbs, but it possesses no influence over its own thoughts, and scarcely any over the body, excepting those particular members of it which are employed in walking. In madness, the power of the will over the body remains undiminished, while its influence in regulating the train of thought is in a great measure suspended ; either in consequence of a particular idea, which engrosses the attention, to the exclusion of every thing else, and which we find*U impossible to banish by our efforts; or in consequence of our thoughts succeeding each other with such rapidity, that we are unable to stop the train. In both of these kinds of madness, it is worthy of remark, that the conceptions or imaginations of the mind becoming independent of our will, they are apt to be mistaken for actual percep- tions, and to affect us in the same manner. By means of this supposition of a partial sleep, any apparent excep- tions, which the history of dreams may afford to the general principles already stated, admit of an easy explanation. Upon reviewing the foregoing observations, it does not occur to me, that I have in any instance transgressed those rules of philosophizing, which, since the time of Newton, are commonly appealed to, as the tests of sound investigation. For, in the first place, I have not supposed any causes which are not known to exist; and secondly, I have shewn, that the phenomena under our consideration are necessary consequences of the causes to which I have referred them. I have not supposed that the mind acquires in sleep any new faculty of which we are not con- scious while awake; but only (what we know to be a fact)that it retains some of its powers, while the exercise of others is suspended: and I have deduced synthetically the known phenomena of dreaming, from the op- eration of a particular class of our faculties, unconnected by the opera- tion of another. I flatter myself, therefore, that this inquiry will not only throw some light on the state of the mind in sleep, but that it will have a tendency to illustrate the mutual adaptation and subserviency which exists among the different parts of our constitution, when we are in complete possession of all the faculties and principles which belong to our nature.* CHAPTER FIFTH. PART SECOND. OF THE INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON THE INTELLECTUAL AND ON THE ACTIVE POWERS. SECTION I. Of the Influence of casual Associations on our speculative Conclusions. X he Association of Ideas has a lendency to warp our speculative opinions chiefly in the three following ways: ♦ See Note (0.) 172 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [(hap. V. First, by blending together in our apprehensions things which are re- ally distinct in their nature ; so as to introduce perplexity and error into every process of reasoning in which they are involved. Secondly, by misleading us in those anticipations of the fulure from the past, which our constitution disposes us to form, and which are the great foundation of our conduct in life. Thirdly, by connecting in the mind erroneous opinions with truths which irresistibly command our assent, and which we feel to be of im- portanee to human happiness. A short illustration of these remarks will throw light on the origin of varidus prejudices ; and may, perhaps, suggest some practical hints with respect to the conduct of the understanding. 1. I formerly had occasion to mention several instances of very inti- mate associations foruaed between two ideas which have no necessary connexion with each other. Oneofthe most remarkable is that, which exists in every person's mind between the notions of colour and of ex- tension. The former of these words expresses (at least in the sense in which we commonly employ it) a sensation in the mind ; the latter de- notes a quality of an external object; so that there is, in fact, no more connexion between the two notions than between those of pain and of solidity ;* and yet, in consequence of our always perceiving extension, at the same time at which the sensation of colour is excited in the mind, we find it impossible to think of that sensation, without conceiving ex- tension along with it. Another intimate association is formed in every mind between the ideas of space and of time. When we think of an interval of duration, we always conceive it as something analogous to a line, and we apply the same language to both subjects. We speak of a long and short time, as well of a long and short distance, and we are not conscious of any metaphor in doing so. Nay, so very perfect docs the analogy appear to us, that Boscovich mentions it as a curious circumstance, that exten- sion should have three dimensions, and duration only one. This apprehended analogy seems to be founded wholly on an associ- ation between the ideas of space and of time, arising from our always measuring the one of these quantities by the other. We measure time by motion, and motion by extension. In an hour, the hand of the clock moves over a certain space; in two hours, over double the space ; and soon. Hence the ideas of space and of time become very intimately united, and we apply to the latter the words long and short, before and after, in the same manner as to the former. The apprehended analogy between the relation which the different notes in the scale of music bear to each other, and the relation of supe- riority and inferiority, in respect of position, among material objects, arises also from an accidental association of ideas. What this association is founded upon, I shall not take upon me to determine, but that it is the effect of accident, appears clearly from this, that it has not only been confined to particular ages and nations, but is the very reverse of an association which was once equally preva- lent It is observed by Dr. Gregory, in the preface to his edition of Euclid's works, that the more ancient of the Greek writers looked upon ♦ See Note (P.) part II, § 1.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 17 J grave sounds as high, and acute ones as low; and that the present mode of expression on that subject, was an innovation introduced at a later period.* In the instances which have now been mentioned, our habit ot com- bining the notions of two things becomes so strong, that we find it im- possible to think of the one, without thinking at the same time of the other. Various other examples of the same species of combination, al- though, perhaps, not altogether so striking in degree, might easily be collected from the subjects about which our metaphysical speculations are employed. The sensations, for instance, which are excited in the mind by external objects, and the perceptions of materia' qui lities which follow these sensations, are to be distinguished from each other only by long habits of patient reflection. A clear conception of this distinction may be regarded as the key to all Dr. Reid's reasonings concerning the process of nature in perception ; and, till it has once been rendered fa- miliar to the reader, a great part of his writings must appear unsatis- factory and obscure.—In truth, our progress in the philosophy of the hu- man mind depends much more on that severe and discriminating judg- ment, which enables us to separate ideas which nature or hab't have in- timately combined, than on acuteness of reasoning or fertility of inven- tion. And hence it is, lhat metaphysical studies are the best of all pre- parations for those philosophical pursuits which relate to the conduct of life. In none of these do we meet with casual combinations so inti- mate and indissoluble as those which occur in metaphysics ; and he who has been accustomed to such discriminations as this science re- quires, will not easily be imposed on by that confusion of ideas, which warps the judgments of the multitude in moral, religious, and political inquiries. From the facts which have now been slated, it is easy to conceive the manner in which the association of ideas has a tendency to mislead the judgment, in the fiist of the three cases already enumerated. When two subjects of thought are so intimately connected together in the mind, that we find it scarcely possible to consider them apart, it must require no common efforts of attention, to conduct any process of rea- soning which relates to either. I formerly took notice of the errors to which we are exposed in consequence of the ambiguity of words ; and of the necessity of frequently checking and correcting our general rea- sonings by means of particular examples; but in the cases to which I allude at present, there is (if I may use the expression) an ambiguity of things; so that even when the mind is occupied about particulars, it finds it difficult to separate the proper objects of its attention from others with which it has been long accustomed to blend them. The cases, indeed, in which such obstinate and invincible associations are formed among different subjects of thought, are not very numerous, and occur chiefly in our metaphysical researches ; but in every mind, casual combinations, of an inferior degree of strength, have an habitu- al effect in disturbing the intellectual powers, and are not to be con- quered without persevering exertions, of which few men are capable. The obvious effects which this tendency to combination produces on the judgment, in confounding together those ideas which it is the pro- * See Note (Q.) 174 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [cftap. V. vince of the metaphysician to distinguish, sufficiently illustrate the mode of its operation in those numerous instances, in which its influence, though not so complete and striking, is equally real, and far more dan- gerous. II. The association of ideas is a source of speculative error, by mis- leading us in those anticipations of the future from the past, which are the foundation of our conduct in life. The great object of philosophy, as I have already remarked more than once, is to ascertain the laws which regulate the succession of events, both in the physical and moral worlds, in order that when called upon to act in any particular combination of circumstances, we may be enabled to anticipate the probable course of nature from our past experience, and to regulate our conduct accordingly. As a knowledge of the established connexions among events is the foundation of sagacity and of skill, both in the practical arts, and in the conduct of life, nature has not only given to all men a strong disposition to remark, with attention and curiosity, those phenomena which have been observed to happen nearly at the same time, but has beautifully adapted to the uniformity of her own operations, the laws of association in the human mind. By rendering contiguity in limit one of the strong- est of our associating principles, she has conjoined together in our thoughts, the same events which we have found conjoined in our expe- rience, and has thus accommodated (without any effort on our part) the order of our ideas to that scene in which we are destined to act. The degree of experience which is necessary for the preservation of our animal existence, is acquired by all men without any particular ef- forts of study. The laws of*nature, which it is most material for us to know, are exposed to the immediate observation of our senses, and es- tablish, by means of the principle of association, a corresponding order in our thoughts, long before the dawn of reason and reflection ; or at least long before that period of childhood, to which our recollection af- terwards extends. This tendency of the mind to associate together events which have been presented to it nearly at the same time, although, on the whole, it is attended with infinite advantages, yet, like many other principles of our nature, may occasionally be a source of inconvenience, unless we avail ourselves of our reason and of our experience in keeping it under proper regulation. Among the various phenomena which are continu- ally passing before us, there is a great proportion, whose vicinity in time does not indicate a constancy of conjunction; and unless we be careful to make the distinction between these two classes of connexions, the or- der of our ideas will be apt to correspond with the one as well as with the other, and our unenlightened experience of the past, will fill the mind, in numberless instances, with vain expectations, or with ground- less alarms, concerning the future. This disposition to confound togeth- er accidental and permanent connexions, is one great source of popular superstitions. Hence the regard which is paid to unlucky days, to un- lucky colours, and to the influence of the planets; apprehensions which render human life, to many, a continued series of absurd terrors. Lu- cretius compares them to those which children feel, from an idea of the existence of spirits in the dark : part II. § 1.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. l75 " Ac veluti pueri trepidant, atque omnia coecis " In tenebris metuunt, sic nos in luce timemus, " Interdum nihilo quae sunt metuenda magis.*" Such spectres can be dispelled by the light of philosophy only ; which, by accustoming us to trace established connexions, teaches us to despise those which are casual; and, by giving a proper direction to that bias of the mind which is the foundation of superstition, prevents it from leading us astray. In the instances which we have now been considering, events come to be combined together in the mind, merely from the accidental circum- stance of their contiguity in time, at the moment when we perceived them. Such combinations are confined, in a great measure, to unculti- vated and unenlightsned minds, or to those individuals, who, from na- ture or education, have a more than ordinary facility of association.— But there are other accidental combinations, which are apt to lay hold of the most vigorous understandings ; and from which, as they are the natural and necessary result of a limited experience, no superiority of intellect is sufficient to preserve a philosopher, in the infaney of physical science. As the connexions among physical events are discovered to us by ex- perience alone, it is evident that when we see a phenomenon preceded by a number of different circumstances, it is impossible for us to deter- mine, by any reasoning a priori, which of these circumstances are to be regarded as the constant, and which as the accidental, antecedents of the effect. If, in the course of our experience, the same combina- tion of circumstances is always exhibited to us without any alteration, and is invariably followed by the same result, we must forever remain ignorant, whether this result be connected with the whole combination, or with one or more of the circumstances combined; and therefore, if we are anxious, upon any occasion, to produce a similar effect, the only rule that we can follow with perfect security, is to imitate in every par- ticular circumstance the combination which we have seen. It is only where we have an opportunity of separating such circumstances from each other; of combining them variously together; and of observing ✓ the effects which result from these different experiments, that we can ascertain, with precision, the general laws of nature, and strip physical causes of their accidental and unessential concomitants. To illustrate this by an example. Let us suppose that a savage, who, in a particular instance, had found himself relieved of some bodily indis- position by a draught of cold water, is a second time afflicted with a similar disorder, and is desirous to repeat the same remedy. With the limited degree of experience which we have here supposed him to pos- sess, it would be impossible for the acutest philosopher, in his situation, to determine, whether the cure was owing to the water which was drunk, to the cup in which it was contained, to the fountain from which it was taken, to the particular day of the month, or to the particular age of the moon. In order, therefore, to ensure the success of the remedy, he will very naturally, and very wisely, copy, as far as he can recollect, every circumstance which accompanied the first application of it. He will make use of the same cup, draw the water from the same fountain, hold his body in the same posture, and turn his face in the same direc- 176 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap, V. tion; and thus all the accidental circumstances in which the first expe- riment was made, will come to be associated equally in his mind with the effect produced. The fountain from which the water was drawn, will be considered as possessed of particular virtues; and the cup from which it was drunk, will be set apart from vulgar uses, for the sake of those who may afterwards have occasion to apply the remedy. Il is the enlargement of experience alone, and not any progress in the art of rea- soning, which can cure the mind of these associations, and free the prac- tice cf medicine from those superstitious observances, with which we always find encumbered among rude nations. Many instances of this species of superstition might be produced from the works of philosophers who have flourished in more enlightened ages. In particular, many might be produced from the writings of those phy- sical inquirers who immediately succeeded to Lord Bacon; and who, convinced by his arguments, of the folly of all reasonings a priori, con- cerning the laws of nature, were frequently apt to run into the opposite extreme, by recording every circumstance, even the most ludicrous, and the most obviously unessential, which attended their experiments.* The observations which have been hitherto made, relate entirely to associations founded on casual combinations of material objects, or of physical events. The effects which these associations produce on the understanding, and which are so palpable that they cannot fail to strike the most careless observer, will prepare the reader for the remarks I am now to make, on some analogous prejudices, which warp our opinions on still more important subjects. As the established laws of the material world, which have been exhi- bited to our senses from our infancy, gradually accommodate to them- selves the order of our thoughts, so the most arbitrary and capricious in- stitutions and customs, by a long and constant and exclusive operation on the mind, acquire such an influence in forming the intellectual habits, that every deviation from them not only produces surprise, but is apt lo excite sentiments of contempt and of ridicule. A person who has never extended his views beyond that society of which he himself is a member, is apt to consider many peculiarities in the manners and customs of his countrymen as founded on the universal principles of the human con- stitution; and when he hears of other nations, whose practices in simi- lar cases are different, he is apt to censure them as unnatural, and to despise them as absurd. There are two classes of men who have more particularly been charged with this weakness ; those who are placed at the bottom, and those who have reached the summit of the scale of refinement; the former from ignorance, and the latter from national vanity. For curing this class of prejudices, the obvious expedient, which na- ture points out to us, is to extend our acquaintance with human affairs, either by means of books, or personal observation. The effects of tra- velling, in enlarging and enlightening the mind, are obvious to our daily *Tbe reader will scarcely believe, that the following cure for a dysentery, is capied verbatim from the works f Mr. Boyle : "Tike the thigh-bone of a bai-ged man, (perhaps another may serve, but this was still irade use of,) calcine it to whiteness, and having purged the patient with an antimonial medicine, give him one dram of this white powder for one dose, in some good cordial, whether conserve or liquor." part U. § 1.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 177 experience; and similar advantages may be derived (although, per- haps, not in an equal degree) from a careful study of the manners of past ages or of distant nations, as they are described by the historian. In making, however, these attempts for our intellectual improvement, it is of the utmost consequence to us to vary, to a considerable degree, the objects of our attention ; in order to prevent any danger of our acquir- ing an exclusive preference for the caprices of any one people, whose political situation, or whose moral character, may attach us lo them as; faultless models for our imitation. The same weakness and versatility of mind, the same facility ofassociation, which, in the case of a persori who has never extended his views beyond his own community, is a1 source of national prejudice and of national bigotry, renders the mind, when forced into new situations, easily susceptible of other prejudices no less capricious; and frequently prevents the time, which is devoted to travelling, or to study, from being subservient to any better purpose; than an importation of foreign fashions, or a still more ludicrous imita- tion of ancient follies. The philosopher whose thoughts dwell habitually, not merely upon what is, or what has been, but upon what is best and most expedient for mankind, who, to the study of books, and the observation of man- ners, has added a careful examination of the principles of the human constitution, and of those which ought to regulate the social order, is the only person who is effectually secured against both the weaknesses" which I have described. By learning to separate what is essential to' morality and to happiness, from those adventitious trifles which it is the province of fashion to direct, he is equally guarded against the fMies of national prejudice, and a weak deviation, in matters of indifference, from established ideas. Upon his mind, thus occupied with important subjects of reflection, the fluctuating caprices and fashions of the times lose their influence; while accustomed to avoid the slavery of local and arbitrary habits, he possesses* in his own genuine simplicity of charac- ter the same power of accommodation to external circumstances, which men of the world derive from the pliability of their taste^ and the versa- tility of their manners. As the order, too, of his ideas is accommo- dated, not to what is casually presented from without, but to his own systematical principles, his associations are subject only to those slow and pleasing changes which arise from his growing light and improving reason; and, in such a period of the world as the present, when the #ress not only excludes the possibility of a permanent retrogradatioii iti human affairs, but operates with an irresistible though gradual progress,* in undermining prejudices and in extending the triumphs of philosophy; he mav reasonably indulge the hope, that society will every day ap- proach nearer and nearer to what he wishes it t" be. A man of such a character, instead of looking back on the past with regret; find* him- self (if I may use the expression) more at home in the world, and more satisfied with its order, the longer he lives in it. The melancholy con- trasts which old men are sometimes disposed to state, between its con- dition, when they are about to leave it, and that in which they found if at the commencement of their career, arise, in most cases, from the un- limited influence which in their early years they had allowed to the fashions of the times, in the formation of their characters. How differ- 178 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHV [chaj). r. eiltfrom those sentiments and prospects which dignified the retreat of Turgot, and brightened the declining yars of Franklin ! The querulous temper, however, which is incident to old men, al- though it renders their manners disagreeable in the intercourse of so- cial life, is by no means the most contemptible form in which the pre- judices 1 have now been discribing may display their influence. Such a temper indicates at least a certain degree of observation, in marking the vicissitudes of human affairs, and a certain degree of sensibility in early life, which has connected pleasing ideas with the scenes of infan- cy and youth. A very great proportion of mankind are, in a «.-reat measure, incapable either of the one or of the other; and. suffering themselves lo be carried quietly along with the stream of faction, and finding their opinions and their feelings always in the same relative situation to the fleeting objects around them, are per vet ly unconscious of any progre&s in their own ideas, or of any change in the manner* of their age. In vain the philosopher reminds them of the opinions they yesterday held ; and forewarns them, from the spirit of the times, of those which they are to hold to-morrow. The opinions of the pre- sent moment seem to them to be inseparable from their constitution ; and when the prospects are realized, which they lately treated as chi- merical, their minds are so gradually prepared for the event, that they behold it without any emotions of wonder or curiosity, and it is to the philosopher alone, by whom it was predicted, that it appears to furnish a subject worthy of future reflection. The prejudices lo which the last observations relate, have their origin in that disposition of our nature, which accommodates the order of our ideas, and our various intellectual habits, to whatever appearances have been long and familiarly presented to the mind. But there are other prejudices, which, by being intimately associated with the essential prin- ciples of our constitution, or with the original and universal laws of our belief, are incomparably more inveterate in their nature, and have a far more extensive influence on human character and happiness. III. The manner in which the association of ideas operates in produ- cing this third class of our speculative errors, may be conceived, in part, from what was formerly said concerning the supers iliou- obser- vances, which are mixed with the practice of medicine among rude na- tions. As all the different circumstances which accompanied the first administration of a remedy, come to be considered as essential to its future success, and are blended together in our conception-, without any discrimination of their relative imj>ortaiice, so,whate.er tent ts and ceremonies we have been taught to connect with the religious creed of our infancy, become almost a part of our constitution, by being iudi-^o- lubly united with truths which are essential to happiness, and which we are led to reverence and to love by all the best dispositions of the heart. The astonishment which the peasant feels, when he sect, the rites of a religion different from his own, is not less great than if he saw some flagrant breach of the moral duties, or some direct act of impiety to God; nor is it easy for him to conceive, that there can be any thing worthy in a mind which treats with indifference, wh .1 anakens in nis own breast all its best and sublimest emotions. lf Is it possible," (g<tort, to explain how the pleasure or the pain is produced. In the works of nature we find, in many instances, Beauty and Sublimity involved among circum- stances, which are either indifferent, or which obstruct the general ef- fect: and it is only by a train of experiments, that we can separate those circumstances from the re.-t, and ascertain with what particular qualities the pleasing effect it connected. Accordingly, the imxperien - ted artist, when he copies Nature, will copy her servilely, that he may be certain of securing the pleasing effect; and the beau'ries of his per- formances will be encumbered with a number of superfluous or • f disa- greeable concomitants. Experience and observation alone can enable him to make this discrimination, to exhibit the principles of beauty pure and imadultei ated ai.d to form a creation of his own, more faultless than ever fell under the observation of his senses. This analogy between the progress of Taste from rudeness to refine. merit, and the progress of physical knowledge from the superstitions of a savage tribe, to the investigation of the laws of nature, proceeds on the supposition, that, as in the material world, there ore general facts, beyond which hilosophy is unable to proceed, so, in the constitution of man, there is an inexplicable adaption of the mind to the objects with which his faculties aie conversant; in consequence of which, these ob- jects are fitted to produce agreeable or disagreeable emotions. In both cases, reasoning may be employed with propriety to refer particular phenomena togeneial principles; but in bot.i cases, we mustat last ar- rive at principles of which no account can be given, but that such is the will of our Maker. A great part, too, of the remark-: which wore made in the last Sec- tion on tr.e oirgin of popular prejudices, may be applied to explain the it fluence of casual as.-ocialions on Taste ; but these remarks do not so completely exhaust the subject, as to supersede the necessity of farther illustration. In mat'^rs o< Taste, the effect-'which we consider, are pro.'Jmed on tiie Mind itself: and are accompanied < itner with plea-uro or wii'i pain, if--nee the tendency lo casual association is inuc'i strong- er thau it commonly is with respect to physical events; and when such associations aie once formed, as they do not lead lo any important in- convenience, similar to those which result from physical mistakes, they are not so likely to be corrected by mere experience, mi assisted by study. To this it is owing, that the influence of association ou our judgments concerning beauty and deformity, is still more remarkable than on our speculative couclusi'lis; a circumstance which has led some philoso- phers to suppose, that association is sufficient to account for the origin of these noli -us, and that there is no such thing as a standard of Ta^te, founded ou the principles of the human constitution. But this is un- doubtedly pushing the theory a great deal too far. The association of ideas can never account for the origin of a new notion, or of a pleasure essentially differed from all the others which we know. It may, in- deed, enable us to conceive how a thing, indifferent in itself, may be- part II. § 2.] OF THE HUMAN MINI). 183 come a source of pleasure, by being connected in the mind with some-* thing else which is naturally agreeable, but it presupposes, in every in- stall- e, the existence of those notions and those feelings which it is its province to combine: insomuch that, 1 apprehend, it will be found, wherever association produces a change in our judgments on matters of Taste, it does so, by co-operating with some natural principle, of the mind, and implies the existence of certain original sources of pleasure and uneasiness. A mode of dress, which at first appeared awkward, acquires, in a few weeks or months, the appearance of elegance. By beirag accustom- ed to see it worn by those whom we consider as modlcs of Taste, it he- conies associated with the agreeable impressions which we receive from the ease and grace and refinenieiit of their manners. When it pleases* by itself, the effect is to be ascribed, not to the obje-T actually before us, but lo the impressions with which it has been generally connected, and which il naturally recalls to the mind. This observation points out the cause of the perpetual vicissitudes i:i dress, and in every thing whose chief recommendation arises from fash- ion. It is evident that as far as the agreeable effect of an ornament arises from association, the effect will continue only while it is confined to the higher orders. When it is adopted by the multitude, it not only ceases to be associated with ideas of taste and refinement, but it is asso- ciated with ideas of affectation, absurd imitation, and vulgarity. It is accordingly laid aside by the higher orders, who studiously avoid every circumstance in external appearance, which is debased by low and com- mon use; and they are led to exercise their invention iu the introduc- tion of some new peculiarities, which first become fashionable, then common, and last of all, are abandoned as vulgar. It hgs been often remarked, that after a certain period in the pro- gress of society, the public Taste becomes corrupted ; and the different productions of the fine arts begin to degenerate from that si:i plicit\*, which they had attained in their state of greatest perfection. One rea- son of this decline is s ggested by the foregoing observations. From the account which has been given of the natural progress of Taste in separating the genuine principles of beauty from superfluous and from offensive concomitants, it is evident, that there is a limit, be- yond which thclove of simplicity cannot be carried. No hounds, indeed, can be set to the creations of genius; but as this quality occurs seldom iu an eminent degree, it commonly happens, that after a period of great refinement of Taste, men begin to gratify their love of variety, by add- ing superfluous circumstances to the finished models exhibited by their predecessors, or by making other trifling alterations in them, with a view merely of diversifying the effec. •-- These additions and alterations, indifferent, perhaps, oi even in some degree offensive in themselves, ac- quire soon a borrowed beau ;y, from the connexion in which we see the,:-. or from the influence of fashion: the same cause which at first produ- ced ihem, continues perpetually to increase their number ; and Taste returns to barbarism, by almost the same steps which conducted it to perfection. The truth of these remarks will appear still more striking to those who consider the wonderful effect which a writer of splendid fenius. but of incorrect taste, has in* misleading the public judgment. The Pr 184 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. V. culiarilies of such an author are consecrated by the connexion in which we see them, and even please, to a certain degree, when detached from the excellencies of his composition, by recalling to us the agreeable im- pressions with which they have been formerly associated. How mans imitations have we seen of the affectations of Sterne, by men who were unable to copy his I eauties ? And yet these imitations of his defects; of hs abrupt manner; of his minute speifi ation of circumstances ; and even of his Hashes produce, at first, some effect on readers of sensibili- ty, but of uncultivated taste, in consequence of the exquisite strokes of the pathetic, and singular vein of humour, with which they are united in the or ginal. From what has been said, it is obvious, that the circumstances which please, in the objects of Taste, are of two kinds: First, those which are fitted to please by nature,or by associations which all mankind are led to form by their common condition; and Secondly, those which please in consequence of associations arising from local and accidental circumstances. Hence there are two kinds of taste : the one enabling us to judge of those beauties which have a foundation in the human con- stitution ; the other, of such objects as derive their principal recommen- dation from the influence of fashion. These two kinds of Taste are not always united in the same person : indeed, I am inclined to think, that they are united but rarely. The peifection of the one depends much upon the degree in which we are able to free the mind from the influence of casual asso> iation*; that of the other, on the contrary, depends on a facility of association which en- ab es us to fall in, at once, with all the turns of the fashion, and (as Shakspeare expresses it,) " to catch the tune of the timet,." I shall endeavour to illustrate so■■■ e of the f regoing remarks, by ap- plying them to the subject of language, which affords numberless instan- ces to exemplify the iuiluen< e which the association of ideas has on our judgments in matters of Taste In the same manner in which an article of dress acquires an appear- ance of elegance or of vulgarity from the person- by whom ii is habitu- ally worn, so a particular mode of pronunciation acquires au air of fashion or cf"rusti< ity, from the persons by whom it is habitually em- ployed. The Scotch accent is surely iu itself as good as the English ; and with a few exceptions, is as agreeable to the ear : and yel how of- fensive does it appear, even to us, who hate been accustomed to hear it from our infancy, when compared with that which is u3ed by our southern neighbours!—No reason can be given for this, but that the capital of Scotland is now become a provincial town, and London is the seat of our court. The distinction which is to be found in the languages of all civilized nations, between low and polite modes of expression, arises from simi- lar causes. It is, indeed, amusing to remark the solicitude with which the higher orders, in the monarchies of modern Europe, avoid every circumstance in their exterior appearance and manner, which, by th*; most remote association, may, in the minds of others, connect them with the idea of the multitude. Their whole dress and deportment and con- versation are studiously arranged to convey an imposing notion of their consequence; and to recall to the spectator by numberless slight and apparently unintentional hints, the agreeable impressions which are as- sociated with the advantages of fortune. part II. § 2.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 185 To this influence of association on language, it is necessary for every writer to attend carefully, who wishes to express himself with elegance. For the attainment of correctness and purity in the use of words, the rules of grammarians and of critics may be a sufficient guide; but it is not in the works of this class of authors, that the higher beauties of style are to be studied. As the air and manner of a gentleman can be acquired only by living habitually in the best society, so grace in com- position must be attained by an habitual acquaintance with classical wri- ters. It is indeed necessary for our information, that we should peruse occasionally many books which have no merit in point of expression ; but I believe it to be extremely useful to all literary men, to counteract the effect of this miscellaneous reading, by maintaining a constant and familiar acquaintance with a few of the most faultless models which the language affords. For want of some standard of this sort, we frequent- ly see an author's taste in writing alter much for the worse in the course of his life ; and his later productions fall below the level of his early es- says. D'Alembert tells us, that Voltaire had always lying on his table, the Petit Carcme of Massillon, and the tragedies of Racine : the former to fix his taste in prose composition, and the latter in poetry. In avoiding, however, expressions which are debased by vulgar use, there is a danger of running into the other extreme, in quest of fashion- able words and phrases. Such an affectation may, for a few years, gra- tify the vanity of an author, by giving him the air of a man of the world; but the reputation it bestows is of a very transitory nature. The works which continue to please from age to age, are written with perfect sim- plicity ; while those which captivate the multitude by a display of mere- tricious ornaments, if by chance they should survive the fashions to which they are accommodated, remain only to furnish a subject of ridi- cule to posterity. The portrait of a beautiful woman in the fashionable dress of the day, may please at the moment it is painted ; nay, may per- haps please more than in any that the fancy of the artist could have suggested ; but it is only in the plainest and simplest drapery, that the most perfect form can be transmitted with advantage to future times. The exceptions which the history of literature seems to furnish to these observations, are only apparent. That, in the works of our best authors, there are many beauties which have long and generally been admired, and which yet owe their whole effect to association, cannot be disputed; but in such cases, it will always be found, that the asso- ciations which are the foundation of our pleasure, have, in consequence of some peculiar combination of circumstances, been more widely dif- fused, and more permanently established among mankind, than those which date their origin from the caprices of our own age are ever likely to be. An admiration for the classical remains of antiquity is, at pre- sent, not less general in Europe, than the advantages of a liberal educa- tion : and such is the effect of this admiration, that there are certain caprices of Taste from which no man who is well educated is entirely free. A composition in a modern language, which should sometimes depart from the ordinary modes of expression, from an affectation of the idioms which are consecrated in the classics, would please a very wide circle of readers, in consequence of the prevalence of classical associa- tions ; and, therefore, such affectations, however absurd when carried Vol. i. 24 186 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [ciutp. V. to a degree of singularity, are of a far superior class to those which are adapted to the fashions of the day. But still the general principle holds true, that whatever beauties derive their origin merely from casu- al association, must appear capricious to those to whom the association does not extend; and that the simplest style is that which continues longest to please, and which pleases most universally. In the writings of Mr. Harris, there is a certain classical air, which will always have many admirers, while ancient learning continues to be cultivated, but which, to a mere English reader, appears somewhat unnatural and un- graceful, when compared with the composition of Swift or of Addison. The analogy of the arts of statuary and painting may be of use in illustrating these remarks. The influence of ancient times has extended to these, as well as to the art of writing; and in this case, no less than in the ether, the transcendant power of genius has established a pro- priety of choice in matters of indifference, and has, perhaps, consecra- ted, in the opinion of mankind, some of its own caprices. " Many of the ornaments of art,'' (says Sir Joshua Reynolds,) '* those " at least for which no reason can be given, are transmitted to us, arc " adopted, and acquire their consequence, from the company in which " we have been used to see them. As Greece and Rome are the foun- " tains from whence have flowed all kinds of excellence, to that venera- " tion which they have a right to claim for the pleasure and knowledge " which they have afforded us, we voluntarily add our approbation of " every ornament and every custom that belonged to them, even to the " fashion of their dress. For it may be observed, that, not satisfied " with them in their own place, we make no difficulty of dressing sta- " tues of modern heroes or senators, in the fashion of the Roman armour, " or peaceful robe; and even go so far as hardly to bear a statue in any " other drapery. " The figures of the great men of those nations have come down to us " in sculpture. In sculpture remain almost all the excellent specimens " of ancient art. We have so far associated personal dignity to the per- " sons thus represented, and the truth of art to their manner of repre- " sentation, that it is not in our power any louger to separate them. " This is not so in painting: because, having no excellent ancient por- " traits, that connexion was never formed. Indeed, we could no more " venture to paint a general officer in a Roman military habit, than we " could make a statue in the present uniform. But since we have no " ancient portraits, to shew how ready we are to adopt those kind of " prejudices, we make the best authority among the moderns serve the " same purpose. The great variety of excellent portraits with which " Vandyke has enriched this nation, we are not content to admire for " their real excellence, but extend our approbation even to the dress " which happened to be the fashion of that age. By this means, it must " be acknowledged, very ordinary pictures acquired something of the « air and effect of the works of Vandyke, and appeared, therefore, at " first sight, better pictures than they really were. They appeared " so, however, to those only who had the means of making this asso- " ciation."* The influence of association on our notions concerning language, is • Retsolds' Discourses, p. 313, et seq. part II. § 2.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 187 still more strongly exemplified in poetry than in prose. As it is one great object of the poet, in his serious productions, to elevate the imaSl" nation of his readers above the grossness of sensible objects, and the vulgarity of common life, it becomes peculiarly necessary for him to re- ject the use of all words and phrases which are trivial and hackneyed. Among those which are equally pure and equally perspicuous, he, in general, finds it expedient to adopt that which is the least common. Milton prefers the words Rhene and Danaw, to the more common words Rhine and Danube. " A multitude, like which the populous North " PourM never from his frozen loins, to pass " Rhene or the Danaw."* In the following line, " Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme," how much more suitable to the poetical style does the expression ap- pear, than if the author had said, " Things unattempted yet in prose or verse.'' In another passage, where, for the sake of variety, he has made use of the last phrase, he adds an epithet, to remove it a little from the fa- miliarity of ordinary discourse, in prose or numerous verse.'t In consequence of this circumstance, there arises gradually in every language a poetical diction, which differs widely from the common diction of prose. It is much less subject to the vicissitudes of fashion, than the polite modes of expression in familiar conversation ; because, when it has once been adopted by the poet, it is avoided by good prose writers, as being too elevated for that species of composition. It may therefore retain its charm, as long as the language exists; nay, the charm may increase, as the language grows older. Indeed, the charm of poetical diction must increase to a certain de- gree, as polite literature advances For when once a set of words has been consecrated to poetry, the very sound of them, independently of the ideas they convey, awakens, every time we hear it, the agreeable impressions which were connected with it when we met with them in the performances of our favourite authors. Even when strung together in sentences which convey no meaning, they produce some effect on the mind of a reader of sensibility: an effect, at least, extremely different from that of an unmeaning sentence in prose. Languages differ from each other widely in the copiousness of their poetical diction. Our own possesses, in this respect, important advan- tages over the French : not that, in this language, there are no words * Paradise Lost, book i. 1. 351. f Paradise Lost, book i. 1.150. See Newton's edit. 188 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. T. appropriated to poetry, but because their number is, comparatively speaking, extremely limited. The scantiness of the French poetical diction is, probably, attended with the less inconvenience, than the phrases which occur in good prose writing are less degraded by vulgar application than in English, in consequence of the line being more distinctly and more strongly drawn between polite and low expressions in that language than in ours. Our poets, indeed, by having a language appropriated to their own pur- poses, not only can preserve a dignity of expression, but can connect with the perusal of their compositions, the pleasing impressions which have been produced by those of their predecessors. And hence, in the higher sorts of poetry, where their object is to kindle, as much as pos- sible, the enthusiasm of their readers, they not only avoid, studiously, all expressions which are vulgar, but all such as are borrowed from fashionable life. This certainly cannot be done in an equal degree by a poet who writes in the French language. In English the poetical diction is so extremely copious, that it is lia- ble to be abused ; as it puts it in the power of authors of no genius, merely by ringing changes on the poetical vocabulary, to give a certain degree of currency to the most unmeaning compositions. In Pope's Song by a Person of Qualify, the incoherence of ideas is scarcely great- er, than what is to be found in some admired pages of our fashionable poetry. Nor is it merely by a difference of words, that the language of poetry is distinguished from that of prose. When a poetical arrangement of words has once been established by authors of reputation, the most common expressions, by neing presented in this consecrated order, may serve to excite poetical associations. On the other hand, nothing more completely destroys the charm of poetry, than a string of words which the custom of ordinary discourse has arranged in so invariable an order, that the whole phrase may be anticipated from hearing its commencement. A single word frequently strikes us as flat and prosaic, in consequence of its familiarity ; but two such words coupled together in order of conversation can scarcely be introduced into serious poetry without appearing ludicrous. No poet in our language has shewn so strikingly as Milton, the won- derful elevation which style may derive from an arrangement of words, ■which, while it is perfectly intelligible, departs widely from that to which we are in general accustomed. Many of his most sublime pe- riods, when the order of the words is altered, are reduced nearly to the level of prose. To copy this artifice with success, is a much more difficult attainment than is commonly imagined ; and, of consequence, when it is acquired, it secures an author, to a great degree, from that crowd of imitators who spoil the effect of whatever is not beyond their reach. To the poet who uses blank verse, it is an acquisition of still more essential conse- quence than to him who expresses himself in rhyme; for the more that the structure of the verse approaches to prose, the more it is necessary to give novelty and dignity to the composition. And accordingly, among our magazine poets, ten thousand catch the structure of Pope's versification, for one who approaches to the manner of Milton, or of Thomson- part II. § 2.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 189 The facility, however, of this imitation, like every other, increases with the number of those who have studied it with success; for the more numerous the authors who have employed their genius in any one direction, the more copious are the materials out of which medio- crity may select and combine, so as to escape the charge of plagiarism. And, in fact, in our own language, this, as well as the other great re- source of poetical expression, the employment of appropriated words, has had its effect so much impaired by the abuse which has been made of it, that a few of our best poets of late have endeavoured to strike out a new path for themselves, by resting the elevation of their composition chiefly on a singular, and, to an ordinary writer, an unattainable union of harmonious versification, with a natural arrangement of words, and a simple elegance of expression. It is this union which seems to form the distinguishing charm of the poetry of Goldsmith. From the remarks which have been made on the influence of the as- sociation of ideas on our judgments in matters of taste, it is obvious how much the opinions of a nation with respect to merit in the fine arts, are likely to be influenced by the form of their government, and the state of their manners. Voltaire, in his discourse pronounced at his reception into the French academy, gives several reasons why the poets of that country have not succeeded in describing rural scenes and employ- ments. The principal one is, the ideas of meanness, and poverty, and wretchedness, which the French are accustomed to associate with the profession of husbandry. The same thing is alluded to by the Abbe de Lille, in the preliminary discourse prefixed to his translation of the Georgics. " A translation," says he, " of this poem, if it had been un- " dertaken by an author of genius, would have been better calculated " than any other work, for adding to the richness of our language. A " version of the iEueid itself, however well executed, would, in this re- " spect, be of less utility; in as much as the genius of our tongue ac- commodates itself more easily to the description of heroic achieve- "ments,than to the detailsof natural phenomena, and of the operations " of husbandry. To force it to express these with suitable dignity, " would have been a real conquest over that false delicacy, which it " has contracted from our unfortunate prejudices.'' How different must have been the emotions with which this divine performance of Virgil was read by an ancient Roman, while he recol- lected that period in the history of his country, when dictators were called from the plough to the defence of the state, and after having led monarchs in triumph, returned again to the same happy and independ- ent occupation. A state of manners to which a Roman author of a later age looked back with such enthusiasm, that he ascribes, by a bold poeti- cal figure, the flourishing state of agriculture under the republic, to the grateful returns which the earth then made to the illustrious hands by which she wa6 cultivated.—" Gaudente terra voraere laureato, et tri- " umphali aratore."* * Plin. Nat. Hist, xviii. 4. 190 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. V. SECTION III. " Of the Influence of Association on our active Principles and on our moral Judg- ments. In order to illustrate a little farther, the influence of the Association of Ideas on the human mind, I shall add a few remarks on some of its effects on our active and moral principles. In stating these remarks, I shall endeavour to avoid, as much as possible, every occasion of con- troversy, by confining myself to such general views of the subject, as do not presuppose any particular enumeration of our original principles of action, or any particular system concerning the nature of the moral fa- culty. If my health and leisure enable me to carry my plans into exe- cution, 1 propose, in the sequel of this work, to resume these inquiries, and to examine the various opinions to which they have given rise. The manner iu which the association of ideas operates in producing new principles of action has been explained very distinctly by different writers. Whatever conduces to the gratification, of any natural appe- tite, or of any natural desire, is itself desired on account of the end to which it is subservient; and by being thus habitually associated in our apprehension with agreeable objects, it frequently comes, in process of time, to be regarded as valuable in itself, independently of its utility. It is thus that wealth becomes, with many, an ultimate object of pursuit; although, at first, it is undoubtedly valued merely on account of its sub- serviency to the attainment of other objects. In like manner, men are led to desire dress, equipage, retinue, furniture, on account of the estimation io which they are supposed to be held by the public. Such desires are caUed by Dr. Hutcheson* secondary desires; and their origin is explain- ed by him i.i the way which I have mentioned. " Since we are capa- " ble," says he, " of reflection, memory, observation, and reasoning " about the distant tendencies of objects and actions, and not confined " to things present, there must arise in consequence of our original de- " sires, secondary desires of every thing imagined useful to gratify any "of the primary desires; and that with strength proportioned to the " several original desires, and imagined usefulness or necessity of the " advantageous object."—" Thus," he continues, " as soon as we come " to apprehend the use of wealth or power to gratify any of our origin- " al desires, we must also desire them; and hence arises the universalis " ty of these desires of wealth and power, since they are the means of " gratifying all other desires.'' The only thing that appears to me ex- ceptionable in the foregoing passage is, that the author classes the de- sire of power with that of wealth ; whereas I apprehend it to be clear, (for reasons which I shall state iu another part of this work,) that the former is a primary desire, and the latter a secondary one. Our moral judgments, too, may be modified, and even perverted, to a certain degree, in consequence of the operation of the same principle. In the same manner in which a person who is regarded as a model of taste may introduce, by his example, an absurd or fantastical dress j so a man of splendid virtues may attract some esteem also to his imperfec- ' See his Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions. part ii. § 3.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 191 tions, and, if placed in a conspicuous situation, may render his vices and follies objects of general imitation among the multitude. " In the reign of Charles II." says Mr. Smith,* "a degree of licen- " tiousness was deemed the characteristic of a liberal education. It was " connected, according to the notions of those times, with generosity, " sincerity, magnanimity, loyalty; and proved that the person who acted " in this manner, was a gentleman, and not a puritan. Severity of man- " ners and regularity of conduct, on the other hand, were altogether un- " fashionable, and were connected, in the imagination of that age, with " cant, cunning, hypocrisy, and low manners To superficial minds, the " vices of the great seem at all times agreeable. They connect them, " not only with the splendour of fortune, but with many superior vir- " tues which they ascribe to their superiors; with the spirit of freedom " and independency; with frankness, generosity, humanity, and polite- ness. The virtues of the inferior ranks of people, on the contrary, " their parsimonious frugality, their painful industry, and rigid adhe- " rence to rules, seem to them mean and disagreeable. They connect " them both with the meanness of the station to which these qualities " commonly belong, and with many great vices which they suppose " usually accompany them; such as an abject, cowardly, ill-natured, " lying, pilfering disposition." The theory which, in the foregoing passages from Hutcheson and Smith, is employed so justly and philosophically to explain the origin of our secondary desires, and to account for some perversions of our moral judgments, has been thought sufficient, by some later writers, to account for the origin of all our active principles without exception. The first of these attempts to extend so very far the application of the doctrine of Association, was made by the Rev. Mr. Gay, in a disserta- tion " concerning the fundamental Principle of Virtue," which is pre- fixed by Dr. Law to his translation of Archbishop King's Essay " On the " Origin of Evil." In this dissertation, the author endeavours to shew, " that our approbation of morality, and all affections whatsoever, are " finally resolvable into reason, pointing out private happiness, and are " conversant only .about things apprehended to be means tending to this " end; and that wherever this end is not perceived, they are to be ac- " counted for from the association of ideas, and may properly be called " habits.'' The same principles have been since pushed to a much great- er length by Dr. Hartley, whose system (as he himself informs us) look rise from bis accidentally hearing it mentioned as an opinion of Mr. Gay, " that the association of ideas was sufficient to account for all our intel- " lectual pleasures and pains."t It must,I think, injustice, be acknowledged, lhat this theory, con- cerning the origin of our affections, and of the moral sense, is a most in- genious refinement upon the selfish system, as it was formerly taught; • Theory of Moral Sentiments. | Mr. Hume too, who in my opinion has carried this principle of the Associa- tion of Ideas a great deal too far, has compared the universality of its application in the philosophy of mind, to that of the principle of attraction in physics. " Here," says he, " is a kind of attraction, which in the mental world will be found to have as extraordinary effects as in the natural, and to shew itself in as many and as va>- rious forms." Treat, of Hum. J\at. vol. i. p. 30. 192 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. V. and that, by means of it, the force of many of the common reasonings against that system is eluded. Among these reasonings particular stress has always been laid on the instantaneousness with which our af- fections operate, and the moral sense approves or condemns, and on our total want of consciousness, in such cases, of any reference to our own happiness. The modern advocates for the selfish s) -tern admit the fact to he as it is stated by their opponents; and grunt, that after the moral sense and our various affections are formed, their exercise, in particular cases, may become completely disinterested ; but still they contend, that it is upon a regard to our own happiness that all then* principles are originally grafted. The analogy of avarice will serve to illustrate the scope of this theory. It cannot be doubted that this prin- ciple of action is artificial. It is on account of the enjoyments which it enables us to purchase, lhat money is originally desired ; and yet, in process of time, by means of the agreeable impressions which are asso- ciated with it, it comes to be desired for its own sake ; and even con- tinues to be an object of our pursuit, long after we have lost all relish for those enjoyments which it enables us to command. Without meaning to engage in any controversy on the subject, I shall content myself with observing, in general, that there must be 6ome limit, beyond which the theory of association cannot possibly be carried ; for the explanation which it gives of the formation of new principles of action, proceeds on the supposition that there are other principles pre- viously existing in the mind. The great question then is, when we are arrived at this limit; or, in other words, when we are arrived at the simple and original laws of our constitution. In conducting this inquiry, philosophers have been apt to go into ex- tremes. Lord Kaimes, and some other authors, have been censured, and perhaps justly, for a disposition to multiply original principles to an unnecessary degree. It may be questioned, whether Dr. Hartley, and his followers, have not sometimes been misled by too eager a desire of abridging their number. Of these two errors, the former is the least common, and the least dangerous. It is the least common, because it is not so flattering as the other to the vanity of the theorist; and it is the least dangerous, be- cause it has no tendency, like the other to give rise to a suppression, or to a misrepresentation of facts; or to retard the progress of the science, by bestowing upon it an appearance of systematical perfection, to which, in its present state, it is not entitled. Abstracting, however, from these inconveniences, which must al- ways result from a precipitate reference of phenomena to general prin- ciples, it does not seem to me, that the theory in question has any ten- dency to weaken the foundation of morals. It has, indeed, some ten- dency, in common with the philosophy of Hobbes and Mandeville, to degrade the dignity of human nature ; but it leads to no sceptical con- clusions concerning the rule of life. For, although we were lo grant, that all our principles of action are acquired ; so striking a difference among them must still be admitted, as is sufficient te distinguish clearly those universal laws which were intended to regulate human conduct from the local habits which are formed by education and fashion. It must still be admitted, that while some active principles are confined to particular individuals, or to particular tribes of men, there are others, part II. § 3.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 193 which, arising from circumstances in which all the situations of man- kind must a«*ree, are common to the whole species. Such rfctiye prin- ciples as falf under this last description, at whatever period of life they may appear, are to be regarded as a part of human nature, no less than the instinct of suction ; in the same manner as the acquired perception of distance by the eye i« to be ranked among the perceptive powers of man, no less than the original perceptions of any of our other senses- Leaving, therefore, the question concerning the origin of our active principles, and of the moral faculty, to be the subject of future discus- sion, I shall conclude this section with a few remarks of a more prac- tical nature. It has been shewn by different writers, how much of the beauty and sublimity of material objects arises from the ideas and feelings which we have been taught to associate with them. The impression produced on the external senses of a poet, by the most striking scene in nature, is precisely the same with what is produced on the senses of a peasant or a tradesman : yet how different is the degree of pleasure resulting from this impression ! A great part of this difference is undoubtedly to be ascribed to the ideas and feelings which the habitual studies and amuse- ments of the poet have associated with his organical perceptions. A similar observation may be applied to all the various objects of our pursuit in life. Hardly any one of them is appreciated by any two men in the same manner ; and frequently what one man considers as essen- tial to his happiness, is regarded with indifference or dislike by another. Of these differences of opinion, much is, no doubt, to be ascribed to a diversity of constitution, which renders a particular employment of the intellectual or active powers agreeable to one man, which is not equally so to another. But much is also to be ascribed to the effect of associa- tion ; which, prior to any experience of human life, connects pleasing ideas and pleasing feelings with different objects, in the minds of differ- ent persons. In consequence of these associations, every man appears to his neigh- bour to pursue the object of his wishes, with a zeal disproportioned to its intrinsic value ; and the philosopher (whose principal enjoyment arises from speculation) is frequently apt to smile at the ardour with which the active part of mankind pursue what appear to him to be mere shadows. This view of human affairs some writers have carried so far, as to represent life as a scene of mere illusions, where the mind refers to the objects around it, a colouring, which exis's only in itself; and where, as the Poet expresses it, '• Opinion gilds with varying rays, •• Tuose panned clouds wlncl*beautify our days.' It may be questioned, if these representations of human life be useful or just That the casual associations which the mind forms in child- hood, and in early youth, are frequently a source qf inconvenience and of misconduct, is sufficiently obvious ; but that this tendency of our na- ture increases, on the whole, the sum of human eiijoyment, appears to me to be indisputable ; and the instances in which it misleads us from our duty and our happiness only prove, to what important ends it might be subservient, if it were kept under proper regulation. vol. r. 25 194 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. v. Nor do these representations of life (admitting them in their full ex- tent) justify the practical inferences which have been often deduced from them, with respect to the vanity of our pursuits. In every case, indeed, in which our enjoyment depends upon association, it may be said, in one sense, that it arises from the mind itself; but it does not there- fore follow, that the external object, which custom has rendered the cause or the occasion of agreeable emotions, is indifferent to our happi- ness. The effect which the beauties of nature produce on the mind of the poet, is wonderfully heightened by association, but his enjoyment i9 not, on that account, the less exquisite : ror are the objects of his admiration of the less value to his happiness, that they derive their principal charms from the embellishments of his fancy. It is the business of education, not to counteract, in any instance, the established laws of our constitution, but to direct them to their proper purposes. That the influence of early associations on the mind might be employed, in the most effectual manner, to aid our moral principles, appears evidently from the effects which we daily see it produce, in re- conciling meji to a course of action which their reason forces them to condemn; and it is no less obvious that, by means of it, the happiness of human life might be increased, and its pains diminished, if the agree- able ideas and feelings which children are so apt to connect with events and with situations which depend on the caprice of fortune, were firmly associated in their apprehensions with the duties of their stations, with the pursuits of science, and with those beauties of nature which are open to all. These observations coincide nearly with the ancient stoical doctrine concerning the influence of imagination* on morals; a subject, on which many important remarks (though expressed in a form different from that which modern philosophers have introduced, and, perhaps, not altogether so precise and accurate,) are to be found in the Discourses of Epictetus, and in the Meditations of Antoninus.t The doctrine of the Stoical school Dr. Akenside has in view in the following passage : 44 Action treads the path " In which Opinion says he follows good, M Or flies from evil; and Opinion gives •* Report of good or evil, as the scene 44 Was drawn by fancy, lovely or deform'd : 44 Thus her report can never there be true, 44 Where fancy cheats the intellectual eye " With glaring colours and distorted lines. 14 Is there a man, who at the sound of death 14 Sees ghastly shapes of terror conjur'd up, ■' And black before him ; nought but deaih bed groans 44 And fearful prayers, and plunging from the brink " Of light and being, down the gloomy air, • According to the use which I make of the words Imagination and Association, in this work, their effects are obviously distinguishable. I have thought it proper, however, to illustrate the difference between them a little more fully in Note [R.] f See what Epictetus has remarked on the ££*}(**<$ elx in xtTx gether in their thoughts, at first came into the mind ; whether they oc- curred to them in a dream, or were communicated to them in conversa- tion. On the other hand, it is evident, that without the associating principle, the power of retaining our thoughts, and of recognising them when they occur to us, would have been of little use; for the most important articles of our knowledge might have remained latent in the mind, even when * Si quas res in vita videmus parvas, usitatas, quotidianas, eas meminisse non solemus ; propterea quod nulla nisi nova ant admirabili re commovetur animus. At si quid videmus aut audimus egregie turpe, aut honestum, inusiUtum, mag- num, incredibile, ridiculum, id diu meminisse consuevimus." Ad fferenn. lib. 3. vol. i. 26 202 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [cfutp. VI. those occasions presented themselves to which they are immediately ap- plicable. In consequence of this law of our nature, not only are .ill our Various ideas made to pass, from time to time, in rev iew before us, and to offer themselves to our choice as subjects of meditation, but when an occasion occurs which calls for the aid of our past experience, the occa- sion itself recalls to us all the informations upon the subject, which that experience has accumulated. The foregoing observations comprehend an analysis of memory suffi- ciently accurate for my present purpose : some other remarks, tending to illustrate the same subject more completely, will occur in the remain- ing sections of this chapter. It is hardly necessary for me to add, that when we have proceeded so far in our inquiries concerning Memory, as to obtain an analysis of that power, and to ascertain the relation in which it stands to the other principles of our constitution, we have advanced as far towards an ex- planation of it as the nature of the subject permits. The various theo- rists which have attempted to account for it by traces or impressions in the sensorium, are obviously too unphilosophical to deserve a particular refutation.* Such, indeed, is the poverty of language, lhat we cannot speak on the subject without employing expressions which suggest one theory or another; but it is of importance for us always to recollect, that these expressions are entirely figurative, and afford no explanation of the phenomena to which they refer. It is partly with a view to re- mind my readers of this consideration, that, finding it impossible to lay aside completely metaphorical or analogical words, I have studied to avoid such an uniformity in the employment of them, as might indicate a preference to one theory rather than another; and by doing so, have perhaps sometimes been led to vary the metaphor oftener and more sud- denly, than would be proper in a composition which aimed at any de- gree of elegance. This caution in the use of the common language con- cerning memory, it seemed to me the more necessary to attend to, that the general disposition which every person feels at the commencement of his philosophical pursuits, to explain the phenomena of thought by the laws of matter, is, in the case of this particular faculty, encouraged by a variety of peculiar circumstances. The analogy between committing a thino* to memory that we wish to remember, and engraving on a tablet a fact that we wish to record, is so striking as to present itself even to the vulgar; nor is it perhaps less natural to indulge the fancy in consider- ing memory as a sort of repository, in which we arrange and preserve for future use the materials of our information. The immediate depen- dence, too, of this faculty on the state of the body, which is more remark- able than that of any other faculty whatever, (as appears from the ef- fects produced on it by old age, disease, and intoxication,) is apt to strike those who have not been much conversant with these inquiries, as be- stowing some plausibility on the theory which attempts lo explain its phenomena on mechanical principles. I cannot help taking this opportunity of expressing a wish, that medi- cal writers would be at more pains than they have been at hitherto, to ascertain the various effects which are produced on the memory by dis- ease and old age. These effects are widely diversified in different cases. •SeeNote (S.) Sect. I.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 203 In some it would seem that the memory is impaired in consequence of a diminution of the power of attention ; in others, that the power of re- collection is disturbed in consequence of a derangement of that part of the constitution on which the association of ideas depends. The decay of memory which is the common effect of age, seems to arise from the former of these causes. It is probable, that, as we advance in years, the capacity of attention is weakened by some physical change in the constitution ; but it is also reasonable to think, that it loses its vigour partly from the effect which the decay of our sensibility, and the extinc- tion of our passions have, in diminishing the interest which we feel in the common occurrences of life. That no derangement takes place, in ordinary cases, in that part of the constitution on which the association of ideas depends, appears from the distinct and circumstantial recollec- tion which old men retain of the transactions of their youth.* In some diseases, this part of the constitution is evidently affected. A stroke of the palsy has been known, (while it did not destroy the power of speech,) to render the patient incapable of recollecting the names of the most familiar objects. What is still more remarkable, the name of an object has been known to suggest the idea of it as formerly, although the sight of the object ceased to suggest the name. Iu so far as this decay of memory which old age brings along with it is a necessary consequence of a physical change in the constitution, or a necessary consequence of a diminution of sensibility, it is the part of a wise man to submit cheerfully to the lot of his nature. But it is not un- reasonable to think, that something may be done by our own efforts, to obviate the inconveniences which commonly result from it. If individu- als, who, iu the early part of life, have weak memories, are sometimes able to remedy this defect, by a greater attention to arrangement in their transactions, and to classification among their ideas, than is necessary to the bulk of mankind, might it not be possible, in the same way, to ward off, at least to a certain degree, the encroachments which time makes on this faculty? The few old men who continue in the active scenes of life to the last moment, it has been often remarked, complain, in general much less of a want of recollection, than their cotemporaries. This is undoubtedly owing partly to the effect which the pursuits of bu- siness must necessarily have, in keeping alive the power of attention. But it is probably owing also to new habits of arrangement, which the mind gradually and insensibly forms, from the experience of its grow- ing infirmities. The apparent revival of memory in old men, after a temporary decline, (svhich is a case that happens not unfrequently,) seems to favour this supposition. One old man, I have, myself, had the good fortune to know, who, after a long, an active, and an honourable life, having began to feel * Swift somewhere expresses his surprise, that old men should remember their aaecdotes so distinctly, and should, notwithstanding, have so little memory as to tell the same story twice in the course of the same conversation ; and a similar re- mark is made by Montaigne, in one of his Essays ; " Surtout les Yieillards sont dangereux a qui la souvenance des choses passtes demeure, et ont perdu lasouve- nance de leurs redites.'"—Liv. i. chap. ix. (Des Mentcurs.) The fact seems to be, that all their old ideas remain in the mind, connected as formerly by the different associating principles ; but that the power of attentiop to new ideas and new occurrences is impaired. 204 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [duq). VI. some of the usual effects of advanced years, has been able to find resour- ces in his own sagacity against most of the inconveniences with which they are commonly attended ; and who, by watching his gradual de- cline with the cool eye of an indifferent observer, and employing his in- genuity to retard its progress, has converted even ihe infirmities of age into a source of philosophical amusement. SECTION II. Of the Varieties of Memory in different Individuals. It is generally supposed, that, of all our faculties, Memory is that which nature has bestowed in the most unequal degrees on different in- dividuals; and it is far from being impossible that this opinion may be well founded. If, however, we consider, that there i- scarcely any man who has not memory sufficient to learn the use of larguage, and to learn to recognize, at the first glance, the appearances of an infinite number of familiar objects ; besides acquiring such an acquaintance with the laws of nature, and the ordinnry course of human affairs, as is necessary for directing hiscoaduct in life; we shall be satisfied that the original disparities among men in this respect, are by no means so imm«M e as they seein to be at first view ; and that much i5 to be ascribed to differ- ent habits of attention, and to a difference of selection among the va- rious objects and events presented to their curiosity. As the great purpose to which this faculty is subservient, is to enable us to collect and to retain for the future regulation of our conduct, the results of our past experience: it is evident that the degree of perfec- tion which it attains in the case of different persons, must vary : first, with the facility of making the original acquisition ; secondly, with the permanence of the acquisition ; and thirdly, with the quickness vt rea- diness with which the individual is able, on particular occasions, to ap- ply it to use. The qualities, therefore, of a good memory are, iu the first place, to be susceptible j secondly, to be retentive; and thirdly, to be ready. It is but rarely that these three qualities are united in the same person. We often, indeed, meet with a memory which is at once susceptible and ready; but I doubt much, if such memories be commonly very reten- tive : for susceptibility and readiness are both connected with a facility of associating ideas, according to their more obvious relations; whereas relentiveness, or tenaciousness of memory, depends principally on what is seldom united with this facility, a disposition to system and to philo- sophical arrangement. These observations it will be necessary to illus- trate more particularly. , I have already remarked, in treating of a different subject, that the bulk of mankind, being but little accustomed to reflect and to general- ize, associate their ideas chiefly according to their more obvious rela- tions; those, for example, of resemblance and of analogy; and above all, according to the casual relations arising from contiguityin time and place: whereas, in the mind of a philosopher, ideas are commonly as- sociated according to those relations which are brought to light in con- sequence of particular efforts of attention; such as the relations of Cause sect, il] of the human mind. 205 and Effect, or of Premises and Conclusion. This difference in the modes of association of these two classes of men, is the foundation of some very striking diversities between them in respect of intellectual character. In the first place, in consequence of the nature of the relations which connect ideas together in the mind of the philosopher, it must necessa- rily happen, that when he has occasion to apply to use his acquired knowledge, time and reflection will be requisite to enable him lo recol- lect it. In the case of those, on the other hand, who have not been ac- customed to scientific pursuits; as their ideas are connected together according to the most obvious relations, when any one idea of a class is presented to the mind, it is immediately followed by the others, which succeed each other spontaneously according to the laws of association. In managing, therefore, the little details of some subaltern employ- ment, in which all that is required is a knowledge of forms, and a dispo- sition to observe them, the want of a systematical genius is an important advantage ; because this want renders the mind peculiarly susceptible of habits, and allows the train of its ideas to accommodate itself per- fectly to the daily and. hourly occurrences of its situation. But if, in this respect, men of no general principles have an advantage over the philosopher, they fall greatly below him in another point of view; in as much as all the information which they possess, must necessarily be limited by their own proper experience, whereas the philosopher, who is accustomed to refer every thing to general principles, is not only ena- bled, by means of these, to arrange the facts which experience has taught him, but by reasoning from his principles synthetically, has it often in his power to determine facts a priori, which he has no opportu- nity of ascertaining by observation. It follows farther from the foregoing principles, that the intellectual defects of the philosopher are of a much more corrigible nature, than those of the mere man of detail- If the former is thrown by accident into a scene of business, more time will perhaps be necessary to qualify him for it, than would be requisite for the generality of mankind ; but time and experience will infallibly, sooner or later, familiarize his mind completely with his situation. A capacity for system and for philoso- phical arrangement, unless it has been carefully cultivated in early life, is an acquisition which can scarcely ever be made afterwards; and, therefore, the defects which I already mentioned, as connected with early and constant habits of business, adopted from imitation, and undi- rected by theory, may, when once these habits are confirmed, be pro- nounced to be incurable. I am also inclined to believe, both from a theoretical view of the sub- ject, and from my own observations as far as they have reached, that if we wish to fix the particulars of our knowledge very permanently in the memory, the most effectual way of doing it, is to refer them to gen- eral principles. Ideas which are connected together merely by casual relations, present themselves with readiness to the mind, so long as we are forced by the habits of our situation to apply them daily to use; but when a change of circumstances leads us to vary the objects of our at- tention, we find our old ideas gradually to escape from the recollection : and if it should happen lhat they escape from it altogether, the only method of recovering them, i» by'renewing those studies by which they 206 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VI. were at first acquired. The case is very different with a man whose ideas, presented to him at first by accident, have been afterwards phi- losophically arranged and referred to general principles. When he wish- es to recollect them, some time and reflection will, frequently, be neces- sary to ejiable him to do so ; but the information which he has once completely acquired, continues, in general, lobe an acquisition for life; or if, accidentally, any article of it should be lost, it may often be re- covered by a process of reasoning. Something very similar to this happens in the study of languages. A person who acquires a foreign language merely by the ear, and without any knowledge of its principles,commonly speaks it while he remains in the country where it is spoken, with more readiness and fluency, than one who has studied it grammatically; but in the course of a few years absence, he finds himself almost as ignorant of it as before he acquired it. A language of which we once understand the principles thorough- ly, it is hardly possible to lose by disuse. A philosophical arrangement of our ideas is attended with another very important advantage. In a mind where the prevailing principles of association are founded on casual relations among the various objects of its knowledge, the thoughts must necessarily succeed each other in a very irregular and disorderly manner, and the occasions on which they present themselves, will be determined merely by accident. They will often occur, when they cannot be employed to any purpose ; and will remain concealed from our view, when the recollection of them might be useful. They cannot therefore be considered as under our own proper command. But in the case of a philosopher, how slow soever he may be in the recollection of his ideas, he knows always where he is to search for them, so as to bring them all to bear on their proper object. When he wishes to avail himself of his past experience, or of h'13 former con- clusions, the occasion itself summons up every thought in his mind which the occasion requires. Or if he is called upon to exert his powers of invention and of discovery, the materials of both are always at hand, and are presented to his view with such a degree of connexion and ar- rangement, as may enable him to trace, with ease, their various rela- tions. How much invention depends upon a patient and attentive ex- amination of our ideas, in order to discover the less obvious relations which subsist among them, I had occasion to show, at some length, in a former Chapter. The remarks which have been now made, are sufficient to illustrate the advantages which the philosopher derives in the pursuits of science, from that sort of systematical memory which his habits of arrangement give him. It may however be doubted, whether such habits be equally favourable to a talent for agreeable conversation, at least, for that live- ly, varied, and unstudied conversation, which forms the principal charm of a promiscuous society. The conversation which pleases generally, must unite the recommendations of quickness, of ease, and of variety: and in all there three respects, that of the philosopher is apt to be defi- cient. It is deficient in quickness, because his ideas are connected by relations which occur only to an attentive and collected mind. It is de- ficient in ease, because these relations are not the casual and obvious ones, by which ideas are associated in ordinary memories, but the slow discoveries of patient, and often painful, exertion. As the idea», too, sect, ii-] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 207 which he associates together, are commonly of the same class, or at least are referred to the same general principles, he is in danger of be- coming tedious, by indulging himself in long and systematical discours- es : while another, possessed of the most inferior accomplishments, by layino* his mind completely open to impressions from without, and by accommodating continually the course of his own ideas, not only to the ideas which are started by his companions, but to every trifling and un- expected accident that may occur to give them a new direction, is the life and soul of every society into which he enters. Even the anecdotes which the philosopher has collected, however agreeable they may be in themselves, are seldom introduced by him into conversation with that unstudied but happy propriety, which we admire in men of the world, whose facts are not referred to general principles, but are suggested to their recollection by the familiar topics and occurrences of ordinary life. Nor is it the imputation of tediousness merely, to which the systemati- cal thinker must submit from common observers. It is but rarely possi- ble to explain completely, in a promiscuous society, all the various parts of the most simple theory ; and as nothing appears weaker or more ab- surd than a theory which is partially slated, it frequently happens, that men of ingenuity,* by attempting it, sink, in the vulgar apprehension, below the level of ordinary understandings. " Theoriarum vires" (says Lord Bacon) " in apta et se mutuo sustinente partium harmonia, et " quadam in orbem deinonstralione, consistunt, ideoque per partes tra- " ditae infirmaj sunt" Before leaving the subject of Casual Memory, it may not be improper to add, that how much soever it may disqualify for systematical specu- lation, there is a species of loose and rambling composition, to which it is peculiarly favourable. With such performances it is often pleasant to unbend the mind in solitude, when we are more in the humour for conversation, than for connected thinking. Montaigne is unquestiona- bly at the head of this class of authors. "What, indeed, are his Es- says," (to adopt his own account of them,) " but grotesque pieces of " patch-work, put together without any certain figure ; or any order, " connexion, or proportion, but what is accidental ?*'* It is, however, curious, that in consequence of the predominance in his mind of this species of Memory above every other, he is forced to acknowledge his total want of that command over his ideas, which can only be founded on habits of systematical arrangement. As the passage is extremely characteristical of the author, arid affords a striking con- firmation of some of the preceding observations, I shall give it in his own words. '* Je ne me tiens pas bien en ma possession et disposition : le li hazard y a plus de droit que moy : ^occasion, la compagnie, le branle " meme de ma voix tire plus de inon esprit, que je n'y trouve lors que ((je sonde et employe a parte nioy. Ceci m'ad vient aussi, que je ne me " trouve pas ou je me cherche ; et me trouve plus par rencontre, que " par requisition de mon jugment.f The differences which I have now pointed out between philosophical and casual Memory, constitute the most remarkable of all the varieties which the minds of different individuals, considered in respect of this *Liv. i. chap. 2". f Liv. i. chap. 10. (Du parler prompt ou tardif,) 208 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VI. faculty, present to our observation. But there are other varieties, of a less striking nature, the consideration of which may also suggest some useful reflections. It was before remarked, that our ideas are frequently associated, in consequence of the associations which take place among their arbitrary signs. Indeed, in the case of all our general speculations, it is difficult to see in what other way our thoughts can be associated ; for, 1 before endeavoured to shew, that, without the use of signs of one kind or an- other, it would be impossible for us to make classes or geheral objects of our attention. All the signs by which our thoughts are expressed, are addressed either to the eye or to the ear; and the impressions made on these or- gans, at the time when we first receive an idea, contribute to give us a firmer hold of it. Visible objects (as I observed in the Chapter on Con- ception) are remembered more easily than those of any of our other sens- es ; and hence it is, that the bulk of mankind are more aided in their recollection by the impressions made on the eye, than by those made on the ear. Every person must have remarked, in studying the elements of geometry, how much his recollection of the theorems was aided by the diagrams which are connected with them : and I have little doubt, that the difficulty which students commonly find to remember the pro- positions of the fifth book of Euclid, arises chiefly from this, that the magnitudes to which they relate are represented by straight lines, which do not make so strong an impression on the memory, as the figures which illustrate the propositions in the other five books. This advantage, which the objects of sight naturally have over those of hearing, in the distinctness and permanence of the impressions which they make on the memory, continues, and even increases, through life, in the case of the bulk of mankind; because their minds, being but little addicted to general and abstract disquisition, are habitually occu- pied, either with the immediate perception of such objects or with specu- lations in which the conception of them is more or less involved; which speculations, so far as they relate to individual things and individual events, may be carried on with little or no assistance from language. The case is different with the philosopher, whose habits of abstraction and generalization lay him continually under a necessity of employing words as an instrument of thought. Such habits co-operating with that inattention, which he is apt to contract to things external, must have an obvious tendency to weaken the original powers of recollection and conception with respect to visible objects ; and, at the same time, to strengthen the power of retaining propositions and reasonings expressed in language. The common system of education too, by exercising the memory so much in the acquisition of grammar rules, and of passages from the ancient authors, contributes greatly, in the case of men of let- ters, lo cultivate a capacity for retaining words. It is surprising of what a degree of culture our power of retaining a succession, even of insignificant sounds, is susceptible. Instances some- limes occur of men who are easily able to commit to memory a long po- em, composed in a language of which they are wholly ignorant; and I have, myself known more than one instance of an individual, who, after having forgotten completely the classical studies of his childhood, sect, il] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 209 was yet able to repeat,with fluency, long passages ftc m Homer and Virgil, without annexing an idea to the words that he uttered. This susceptibility of memory with respect to words, is possessed by all men in a very remarkable degree iu their early years, and is, in- deed, necessary lo enable them to acquire the use of language; but unless it be carefully cultivated afterwards by constant exercise, it gradually decays as we advance to maturity. The plan of education which is followed in this country, however imperfect in many respects, falls in happily with this arrangement of nature, and stores 4he mind richly, even in infancy, with intellectual treasures, which are to remain with it through life. The rules of grammar, which comprehend sys terns, more or less perfect, of the principles of the dead languages, take a permanent hold of the memory, when the understand.ug is yet unable to comprehend their import; and the classical remains -^f anti- quity, which, e,t the time we acquire them, do little more than furnish a gratification to the ear, supply us with inexhaustible sources of the most refined enjoymect; and, as our various powers gradually unfold themselves, are poured forth, without eff.rt, from the memory, to de- light the imagination, and to improve the heart. It cannot be doubted, that a great variety of other articles of useful knowledge, particularly with respect to geographical and chronological drtails, might be com- municated with advantage to children, iu the form of memorial lines. It is only in childhood, that such details can be learned with facility ; and if they were once acquired, ami rendered perfectly fauiili-ir to the mind, our riper years would be spared much of that painful and uninter- esting labour, which is perpetually distracting our intellectual powers, from those more important exertions, for which, in their mature state, they seem to be destined. This tendency of literary habits in general, and more particularly of philosophical pursuit^, to exercise the thoughts about words, can scarce- ly fail to have some effect in weakening the powers of recollection and conception with respect to sensible objects ; and, in fact, I believe it will be found, that whatever advantage the philosopher may possess over men of little education, in stating general propositions and gene- ral reasonings, he is commonly inferior to them in point of minuteness and accuracy, when he attempts to describe any object which he has seen, or any event which he has witnessed ; supposing the curiosity of both, in such cases, to be interested in an equal degree. I acknowledge, indeed, that the undivided attention, which men unaccustomed to re- flection are able to give to the objects oftheir perceptions, is, in part the cause of the liveliness and correctness of their conceptions. With this diversity in the intellectual habits of cultivated and of un- cultivated minds, there is another variety of memory which seems to have some connexion. In recognizing visible objects, the memory of one man proceeds on the general appearance, that of another attaches itself to some minute and distinguishing marks. A peasant knows the various kinds of trees from their general habits; a botanist, from those characteristical circumstances on which his classification proceeds. The last kind of memory is, I think, most common among literary men, and it arises from their habit of recollecting by means of words. Vol. r. 27 210 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. Vt. It is evidently much easier to express by a description, a number of botanical marks, than the general habit of a tree; and the same remark is applicable to other cases of a similar nature. But to whatever cause we ascribe it, there can be no doubt of the fact, that many individuals are to be found, and chiefly among men of letters, who, although they have no memory for the general appearance of objects, are yet able to retain with correctness, an immense number of technical discrimina- tions. Each of these kinds of memory has its peculiar advantages and incon- veniences, which the dread of being tedious induces me to leave to the investigation of my readers. SECTION III. Or. the Improvement of Memory.—Analysis of the principles on which the Culture of Memory depends. The improvement of which the mind is susceptible by culture, is more remarkable, perhaps, in the case of Memory, than in that of any other of our faculties. The fact has been often taken notice of in general terms; but I amdpubtful if the particular mode, hi which culture ope- rates on this part of oar constitution, has been yet examined by philo- sophers with the attention which il deserves. Of one sort of culture, indeed, of which Memory is susceptible in a very striking degree, no explanation can be given; I moan the improve- ment which the original faculty acquires by mere exercise; or in other words, the tendency which practice has to increase our natural facility of association. This effect of practice upon the memory seems to be an ultimate law of our nature, or rather, to be a particular instance of that general law, that all our powers, both of body and mind, may be strengthened by applying them to their proper purposes. Besides, however, the improvement which memory admits of, in con- sequence of the effects of exercise on the original faculty, it may be greatly aided in its operations, by those expedients which reason and experience suggest for employing it to the best advantage. These ex- pedients furnish a curious subject of philosophical examination: perhaps, too, the inquiry may not be altogether without use; for, although our principal resources for assisting the memory, be suggested by nature, yet it is reasonable to think, that in this, as in similar cases, by following out systematically the hints which she suggests to us, a farther prepara- tion may be made for our intellectual improvement. Every person must have remarked, in entering upon any new species of study, the difficulty of treasuring up in the memory its elementary principles, and the growing facility which he acquires in this respect, as his knowledge becomes more extensive. By analyzing the different causes which concur irt producing this facility, we may, perhaps, be led to some conclusions which may admit of a practical application. 1. In every science, the ideas about which it is particularly conver- sant are connected together by some particular associating principle; in one science, for example, by associations founded on the relation of cause and effect; in another) by associations founded on the necessary sect, in.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 211 relations of mathematical truths; in a third, by associations founded on contiguity in place or time. Hence one cause of the gradual improve- ment of memory with respect to the familiar objects of our knowledge ; for whatever be the prevailing associating principle among the ideas about which we are habitually occupied, it must necessarily acquire ad- ditional strength from our favourite study. 2. In proportion as a science becomes more familiar to us, we ac- quire a greater command of attention with respect to the objects about which it is conversant j for the information which we already possess, gives us an interest in every new truth, and every new fact, which have any relation to it. In most cases, our habits of inattention may be tra- ced to a want of curiosity; and therefore such habits are to be correct- ed, not by endeavouring to force the attention in particular instances, but by gradually learning to place the ideas which we wish to remem- ber, in an interesting point of view. 3. When we first enter on any new literary pursuit, we are unable to make a proper discrimination in point of utility and importance, among the ideas which are presented to us, and by attempting to grasp at ev- ery thing, we fail in making those moderate acquisitions which are suited to the limited powers of the human mind. As our information extends, our selection becomes more judicious and more confined ; and our knowledge of useful and connected truths advances rapidly, from our ceasing to distract the attention with such as are detached and in- significant. 4. Every object of our knowledge is related to a variety of others; and may be presented to the thoughts, sometimes by one principle of as- sociation, and sometimes by another. In proportion, therefore, to the multiplication of mutual relations among our ideas, (which is the natural result of growing information, and in particular, of habits of philosoph- ical study,) the greater will be the number of occasions on which they wMl recur to the recollection, and the firmer will be the root which each idea, in particular, will take in the memory. It follows, too, from this observation, that the facility of retaining a new fact, or a new idea, will depend on the number of relations which it bears to the former objects of our knowledge; and, on the other hand, that every such acquisition', so far from loading the memory, gives us a firmer hold of all that part of our previous information with which it is in any degree connected. It may not, perhaps, be improper to take this opportunity of observ- ing, although the remark be not immediately connected with our pres- ent subject, that the accession made to the stock of our knowledge, by the new facts and ideas which we acquire, is not to be estimated mere- ly by the number of these facts and ideas considered individually ; but by the number of relations which they bear to one another, and to all the different particulars which were previously in the mind; for " new " knowledge," (as Mr. Maclaurin has well remarked,*) " does not con- " sist so much in our having access to a new object, as in comparing it " with others already known, observing its relations to them, or discern- " ing what it has in common with them, and wherein their disparity " consists: and, therefore, our knowledge is vastly greater than the * See the Conclusion of his view of Newtoh's Discoveries. 212 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VI. "sum of what all its objects separately could afford ; and when a new "object comes within our reach, the addition to our knowledge is the "greater, the more we already know; so Hint it increases, not as the "new objects increase, but in a much higher proportion." 5. In the last place, the natural powers of memory are, in the case of the philosopher, greatly aided by his peculiar habits of classification and arrangement. As this is hy far the most important improvement of which memory is susceptible, 1 shall consider it more particularly than any of the others I have mentioned. The advantages, which the memory derives from a proper classifica- tion of our ideas, may he best coneeived by attending to its effects, in enabling us to conduct, with ease, the common business of life In what inextricable confusion would the lawyer or the merchant be im- mediately involved, if he were to deposit in his cabinet, promiscuously, the various written documents which daily and hourly pas« through his hands? Nor could this confusion be prevented by the natural powers of memory, however vigorous they might happen to be. By a proper distribution of these documents, and a judicious reference of them to a few general titles, a very ordinary memory is enahled to accomplish more, than the most retentive, unassisted by method. We know, with certainty, where to find any article we may have occasion for, if il be in our possession; and the search is confined within reasonable limits, instead of being allowed to wander at random amidst a chaos of par- ticulars. Or, lo take an instance still more immediately applicable to our pur- pose : suppose that a man of letters were to record, in a common place book, without any method, all the various ideas and facts which occur- red to him in the course of his studies; what difficulties would he per- petually experience in applying his acquisitions to use P and how com- pletely and easily might these difficulties be obviated by referring the particulars of his information to certain general heads? It is obvious, too, that, by doing so, he would not only have his knowledge much more completely under his command, but as the particulars classed to- gether would all have some connexion, more or less, with each other, he would be enabled to trace with advantage those mutual relations among his ideas, which it is the object of philosophy to ascertain. A common place book, conducted without any method, is an exact picture of the memory of a man whose inquiries are not directed by philosophy. And the advantages of order in treasuring up our ideas in the mind, are perfectly analogous to its effects when they are recorded in writing. Nor is this all. In order to retain our knowledge distinctly and per- manently, it is necessary that we should frequently recall it to our re- collection. But how can this be done without the aid of arrangement ?' Or supposing that it were possible, how much time and labour would be necessary for bringing under our review the various particulars of which our information is composed ? In proportion as it is properly sys- tematized, this time and labour are abridged. The mind dwells habit- ually, not on detached facts, but on a comparatively small number of general principles; and, by means of these, it can summon up, as occa- sions may require, an infinite number of particulars associated with sect, iv.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 213 them ; each of which, considered as a solitary truth, would have been as burdensome to the memory, as the general principle with which it is connected. I would not wish it to be understood from these observations, that philosophy consists in classification alone, and that its only use is to as- sist the memory. I have often indeed, heard this asserted in general terms ; but it appears to me to be obvious, that although this be one of its most important uses, yet something more is necessary to complete the definition of it. Were the case otherwise, it would follow, that all classifications are equally philosophical, provided they are equally com- prehensive. The very great importance of this subject will, I hope, be a sufficient apology for me, in taking this opportunity to correct some mistaken opinions which have been formed concerning it. SECTION IV. Continuation of the same Subject.—Aid which the Memory derives from Philoso- phical Arrangement. It was before observed, that the great use of the faculty of Memory, is to enable us to treasure up for the future regulation of our conduct, the results of our past experience, and of our past reflections. But in every case in which we judge of the future from the past, we must proceed on the belief, that there is, in the course of events, a certain degree, at least, of uniformity. And, accordingly, this belief is not on- ly justified by experience, birt, (as Dr. Reid has shewn, in a very satis- factory manner) it forms a part of the original constitution of the human mind. In the general laws of the material world, this uniformity is found to be complete; in so much that, in the same combinations of circumstances, we expect, with the most perfect assurance, that the same results will take place. In the moral world, the course of events does not appear to be equally regular; but still it is regular, to so great a degree, as to afford us many rules of importance in the conduct of life. A knowledge of Nature, in so far as it is absolutely necessary for the preservation of our animal existence, is obtruded on us, without any re- flection oq our part, from our earliest infancy. It is thus that children learn of themselves to accommodate their conduct to the established laws of the material world. In doing so, they are guided merely by memory, and the instinctive principle of anticipation, which has just been mentioned. In forming conclusions concerning future events, the philosopher, as well as the infant, can only build with safety on past experience ; and he, too, as well as the infant, proceeds on an instinctive belief, for which he is unable to account, of the uniformity of the laws of nature. There are, however, two important respects, which distinguish the knowledge he possesses from that of ordinary men. In the first place, it is far more extensive, in consequence of the assistance which science gives to his natural powers of invention and discovery. Secondly, it is not only more easily retained in the memory, and more conveniently applied to use, in consequence of the manner in which his ideas are arranged; but 314 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VI. it enables him to ascertain, by a process of reasoning, all those truths which may be synthetically deduced from his general principles. The illustration of these particulars will lead to some useful remarks; and will at the same time shew, that, in discussing the subject of this Sec- tion, I have not lost sight of the inquiry which occasioned it. I. l. It was already remarked, that the natural powers of Memory, together with that instinctive anticipation of the future from the past, which forms one of the original principles of the mind, are sufficient to enable infants, after a very short experience, to preserve their animal existence. The laws of nature, which it is not so important for us to know, and which are the objects of philosophical curiosity, are not so obviously exposed to our view, but are, in genera), brought to light by means of experiments which are made for. the purpose of discovery; or, in other words, by artificial combinations of circumstances, which we have no opportunity of seeing conjoined in the course of our ordi- nary experience. In this manner, it is evident, that many connexions may be ascertained, which would never have occurred spontaneously to our observation. 2. There are, too, some instances, particularly in the case of astro- nomical phenomena, in which events, that appear to common observers to be altogether anomalous, are found, upon a more accurate and con- tinued examination of them, to be subjected to a regular law. Such are those phenomena in the heavens, which we are able to predict by means of Cycles. In the cases formerly described, our knowledge of nature is extended by placing her in new situations. In these cases, it is ex- tended by continuing our observations beyond the limits of ordinary cu- riosity. 3. In the case of human affairs, as long as we confine our attention to particulars, we do not observe the same uniformity, as in the phe- nomena of the material world. When,J*»owever, we extend our views to events which depend on a combination of different circumstances, such a degree of uniformity appears, as enables us to establish general rules, from which probable conjectures may often be formed with re- spect to futurity. It is thus, that we can pronounce, with much great- er confidence, concerning the proportion of deaths which shall happen in a certain period among a given number of men, than we can predict the death of any individual; and that it is more reasonable to employ our sagacity, in speculating concerning the probable determinations of a numerous society, than concerning events which depend on the will of % single person. In what manner this uniformity in events depending on contingent circumstances is produced, I shall not inquire at present. The advan- tages which we derive from it are obvious, as it enables us to collect from our past experience, many general rules, both with respect to thi history of political societies, and the characters and conduct of men in private life. 4. In the last place; the knowledge of the philosopher is more ex- tensive than that of other men, in consequence of the attention which he gives, not merely to objects and to events, but to the relati$ns which dif- ferent objects and different events bear to each other. The observations and the experience of the vulgar are almost wholly limited to things perceived by the senses. A similarity between differ- sect. IV.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 215 ent objects, or between different event?, rouses their curiosity, and leads them to classification, and to general rules. But a similarity be- tween different relations, is seldom to be traced without previous habits of philosophical inquiry. Many such familiarities or connexions, how- ever, are to be found in nature; and when once they are ascertained, they frequently lead to important discoveries; not only with respect to other relations, but with respect to the objects or to the events which are related. These remarks it will be necessary lo illustrate more par- ticularly. The great object of Geometry is to ascertain the relations which ex- ist between different quantities, and the connexions which exist between different relations. When we demonstrate, that the angle at the centre of a circle is double of the angle at the circumference on the same base, we ascertain a relation between two quantities. When we demonstrate, that triangles of the same altitude are to each other as their bases, we ascertain a connexion between two relations. It is obvious how much the mathematical sciences must contribute to enlarge our knowledge of the universe, in consequence of such discoveries. In that simplest of all processes of practical geometry, which teaches us to measure the height of an accessible tower, by comparing the length of its shadow with that of a staff fixed vertically in the ground, we proceed on the principle, that the relation between the shadow of the staff and the height of the staff is the same with the relation between the shadow of the tower and the height of the tower. But the former relation we can ascertain by actual measurement; and, of consequence, we not only ob- tain the other relation, but, as we can measure one of the related quan- tities, we obtain also the other quantity. In every case in which math- ematics assists us in measuring the magnitudes or the distances of ob- jects, it proceeds on the same principle; that is, it begins with ascer- taining connexions among different relations, and thus enables us to carry our inquiries from facts which are exposed to the examination of our senses, to the most remote parts of the universe. I observed also, that there are various relations existing among physi- cal events, and various connexions existing among these relations. It is owing to this circumstance) that mathematics is so useful an instru- ment in the hands of the physical inquirer. In that beautiful theorem of Huyghens, which demonstrates, lhat the time of a complete oscilla- tion of a pendulum in the cycloid, is to the time in which a body would fall through the axis of the cycloid, as the circumference of a circle is to its diameter, we are made acquainted with a very curious and unexpect- ed connexion between two relations; and the knowledge of this con- nexion facilitates the determination of a most important fact with re- spect to the descent of heavy bodies near the earth's surface, which could not be ascertained conveniently by a direct experiment. In examining, with attention, the relations among different physical events, and the connexions among diffeient relations, we sometimes are led by mere induction to the discovery of a general law; while, to or- dinary observers, nothing appears but irregularity. From the writings of the earlier opticians, we learn, that, in examining the first principles of dioptrics, they were led, by the analogy of the law of reflection, to search for the relation between the angles of incidence and refraction, (in the case of light passing from one medium into another,) in the an- 216 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. \ I. gles themselves ; and that some of them, finding this inquiry unsuccess- ful, took the trouble to determine, by experiments, (in the case of the media which most frequently fall under consideration,) the angle of refraction corresponding to every minute of incidence. Some very la- borious tables, deduced from such experiments, are to be found in the works of Kircher. At length, Snellius discovered what is now called the law of refraction, which comprehends their whole contents in a single sentence. The law of the planetary motions, deduced by Kepler from the ob- servations of Tycho Brahe, is another striking illustration of the order, which an attentive inquirer is sometimes able to trace among the rela- tions of physical events, when the events themselves appear, on a su- perficial view, to be perfectly anomalous. Such laws are, in some respects, analogous to the cycles which I have already n.< ntioued ; but they differ from them in this, lhat a cy- cle is commonly deduced from observations made on physical evenu which are obvious to the senses : whereas the laws we have now he. n considering, are deduced from an examination of relations which are known only to men of science. The most celebrated astronomical cy- cles, accordingly, are of a very remote antiquity, and were probably discovered at a period, when the study of astronomy consisted merely in accumulating and recording the more striking appearances of the heavens. II. Having now endeavoured to shew, how much philosophy con- tributes to extend our knowledge of facts, by aiding our natural pow- ers of invention and discovery, I proceed to explain, in what manner it supersedes the necessity of studying particular truths, by putting us in possession of a comparatively small number of general principles iu which they are involved. I have already remarked the assistance which philosophy gives to the memory, in consequence of the arrangement it introduces among our ideas. In this respect even a hypothetical theory may facilitate the re- collection of facts, in the same manner, in which the memory is aid- ed in remembering the objects of natural history by artificial classifica- tions. The advantages, however, we derive from true philosophy, are in- comparably greater than what are to be expected from any hypotheti- cal theories. These, indeed, may assist us in recollecting the particu- lars we are already acquainted with; but it is only from the laws of nature, which have been traced analytically from facts, that we can venture, with safety, to deduce consequences by reasoning a priori. An example will illustrate and confirm this observation. Suppose that a glass tube, thirty inches long, is rilled with mercury, excepting eight inches, and is inverted as in the Torricellian experi- ment, so that the eight inches, of common air may rise to the top ; and that I wish to know at what height the mercury win remain suspended in the lube, the barometer being at that time twenty-eight inches high. There is here a combination of different laws, which it is necessary to attend to, in order to be able to predict the result. 1. The air is a heavy fluid, and the pressure of the atmosphere is measured by the co- lumn of mercury iu the barometer. 2. Tiic air is an elastic fluid ; and iu elasticity at the earth's surface (as it resists the pressure of the at- SCCt. IV.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 217 mosphere) is measured by the column of mercury in the barometer. 3. In different states, the elastic force of the air is reciprocally a^s the spaces which it ocupies. But, in this experiment, the mercury which remains impended in the tube, together with the elastic force of the air in the top of the twbe, is a counterbalance to the pressure of the atmos- phere ; and therefore their joint effect must be equal to the pressure of a column of mercury twenty-eight inches high. Hence we obtain an algebraical equation, which affords an easy solution of the problem. It is further evident, that my knowledge of the physical laws which are here combined, puts it in my power to foretel trie result, not only in this case, but in all the cases of a similar nature which can be supposed. The problem, in any particular instance, might be solved by making the experiment: but the result would be of no use to me, if the slightest alterations were made in the data. It is in this manner that philosophy, by putting us in possession of a few general facts, enables us to determine, by reasoning, what will be the result of any supposed combination of them, and thus to compre- hend an infinite variety of particulars, which no memory, however vigo- rous, would have been able to retain. In consequence of the knowledge of such general facts, the nhiloso- pher is relieved from the necessity of treasuring up iu his mind all those truths which are involved in his principles, and which may be deduced from them by reasoning; and he can often prosecute his discoveries synthetically, in those parts of the universe which he has no access to examine by immediate observation. There is, therefore, this important difference between a hypothetical theory, and a theory obtained by in- duction ; that the latter not only enables us to remember the facts we already know, but to ascertain, by reasoning, many facts which we have never had an opportunity of examining : whereas, when we rea- son from a hypothesis a priori, we are almost certain of running into error; and, consequently, whatever may be its use to the memory, it can never be trusted to, ii. judging of cases which have not previously fallen within our experience. There are some sciences, in which hypothetical theories are more useful than in others ; those sciences, to wit, in which we have occasion for an extensive knowledge, and a ready recollection of facts, and which, at the same time, are yet in too imperfect a state to allow us to obtain just theories by the method of induction. This is particularly the case in the science of medicine, in which we are under a necessity to apply our knowledge, such as it is, to practice. It is also, in some degree, the case in agriculture. In the merely speculative pans of physics and chemistry, we may go on patiently accumulating facts, without forming any one conclusion farther than our facts authorize us; and leave to posterity the credit of establishing the theory to which our labours are subservient. But in medicine, in which it is of consequence to have our knowledge at command, il seems reasonable to think, that hypothe- tical theories may be used with advantage; provided always, that they are considered merely in the light of artificial memories, and that the student is prepared to lay them aside, or to correct them, in proportion as his knowledge of nature becomes more extensive. I am, indeed, ready to confess, that this is a caution which it is more easy to give Vol. i. 28 -**<> ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VI. than to follow: for it is painful to change any of our habits of arrange- ment, and to relinquish those systems in which we have been educated, and which have long flattered us with an idea of our own wisdom. Dr. Gregory mentions* it as a striking and distinguishing circumstance in the character of Sydenham, that, although full of hypothetical reason- ing, it did not render him the less attentive to observation ; and that his hypotheses seem to have sat so loosely about him, that either they did not influence his practice at all, or he could easily abandon them when- ever they would not bend to his experience. SECTION V. Continuation of the same subject—Effects produced on the Memory by commit. ting to Writing our acquired Knowledge. Having treated at considerable length of the improvement of memo- ry, it may not be improper, before leaving this part of the subject, to consider what effects are likely to be produced on the mind by the prac- tice of committing, to writing our acquired knowledge. That such a practice is unfavourable, in some respects, to the faculty of memory, by superseding, to a certain degree, the necessity of its exertions, has been often remarked, and 1 believe is true ; but the advantages with which it is attended in other respects, are so important, as to overbalance greatly this trifling inconvenience. It is not my intention at present to examine and compare together the different methods which have been proposed of keeping a common- place book. In this, as in other cases of a similar kind, it may be diffi- cult, perhaps, or impossible, to establish any rules which will apply uni- versally. Individuals must be left to judge for themselves, and to adapt their contrivances to the particular nature oftheir literary pursuits, and to their own peculiar habits of association and arrangement. The re- marks which I am to offer are very general, and are intended merely to illustrate a few of the advantages which the art of Writing affords to the philosopher, for recording, in the course of his progress through life, the results of his speculations, and the fruits of his experience. The utility of writing, in enabling one generation to transmit its dis- coveries to another, and in thus giving rise to a gradual progress iu the species, has been sufficiently illustrated by many authors. Little atten- tion, however, has been paid to another of its effects, which is no less important; I mean, to the foundation which it lays for a perpetual pro- gress in the intellectual powers of the individual. It is to experience, and to our own reflections, that we are indebted for by far the most valuable part of our knowledge; and hence it is, that although in youth the imagination may be more vigorous, and the genius more original, than in advanced years; yet, in the case of a man of observation and inquiry, the judgment may be expected, at least as long as his faculties remain in perfection, to become every day sounder and more enlightened. It is, however, only by the constant practice of writing, that the results of our experience, and the progress of our * Lectures oa the Duties and Qualifications of a Physician. Sect. V.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 219 ideas, can be accurately recorded. If they are trusted merely to the me- mory, they will gradually vanish from it like a dream, or will come in time to be so blended with the suggestions of imagination, that we shall not be able to reason from them with any degree of confidence. What improvements in science might we not flatter ourselves with the hopes of accomplishing, bad we only activity and industry to treasure up eve- ry plausible hint that occurs to us! Hardly a day passes, when many such do not occur to ourselves, or are suggested by others; and de- tached, and insulated, as they may appear at present, some of them may perhaps afterwards, at the distance of years, furnish the key-stone of an important system. But it is not only in this point of view that the philosopher derives advantage from the practice of writing. Without its assistance, he could seldom be able to advance beyond those simple elementary truths which are current in the world, and which form, in the various branches of science, the established creed of the age he lives in. How inconsidera- ble would have been the progress of mathematicians, in their more abstruse speculations, without the aid of the algebraical notation ; and to what sublime discoveries have they been led by this beautiful contrivance, which, by relieving the memory of the effort necessary for recollecting ihe steps of a long investigation, has enabled them to prosecute an infinite variety of inquiries, to which the unassisted powers of the human mind would have been altogether unequal! In the other sciences, it is true, we have seldom or never occasion to follow out such long chains of consequences as in mathematics; but in these sciences, if the chain of investigation be shorter, it is far more difficult to make the transition from one link to another; and it is only by dwelling long on our ideas, and rendering them perfectly familiar to us, that such transi- tions can, in most instances, be made with safety. In morals and poli- tics, when we advance a step beyond those elementary truths which are daily presented to us in books or conversation, there is no method of rendering our conclusions familiar to us, but by committing them to writing, and making them frequently the subjects of our meditation. When we have once done so, these conclusions become elementary truths with respect to us; and we may advance from them with confi- dence to others which are more remote, and which are far beyond the reach of vulgar discovery. By following such a plan, we can hardly fail to have our industry rewarded in due time by some important im- provement ; and it is only by s*uch a plan that we can reasonably hope to extend considerably the boundaries of human knowledge I do not say that these habits of study are equally favourable to brilliancy of conversation. On the contrary, I believe that those men who possess this accomplishment in the highest degree, are such as do not advance beyond elementary truths; or rather, perhaps, who advance only a single step beyond them ; that is, who think a little more deeply than the vulgar, but whose conclusions are not so far removed from common opinions, as to render it necessary for them, when called upon to defend them, to exhaust the patience of their hearers, by stating a long train of intermediate ideas. They who have pushed their inquiries much farther than the common systems of their times, and have rendered fa- miliar to their own minds the intermediate steps by which they have been led to their conclusions, are too apt to conceive other men to be in 220 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VI. the same situation with themselves; and when they mean to instruct, are mortified to find that they are only regarded as paradoxical and vi- sionary It is but rarely we find a man of very splendid and various conversation to be possessed of a profound judgment, or of great origi- nality of genius. Nor is it merely to the philosopher, who wishes to distinguish himself by his discoveries, that writing affords an useful instrument of study — Important assistance may be derived from it by all those fc'ho wish to impress on their minds the investigations which occur to them in the course oftheir reading ; for although writing may weaken (as I already acknowledged it does) a memory for detached observations, or for insu- lated facts, it will be found the only effectual method of fixing iu it permanently those acquisitions, which involve long processes of reason- ing. When we are employed in inquiries of our own, the conclusions which we form make a much deeper and more lasting impression on the me- mory, than any knowledge which we imbibe passively from another.— This is undoubtedly owing, in part, to the effect whi-'h the ardour of discovery has in rousing the activity of the mind, and in fixing its atten- tion ; but I apprehend it is chiefly to be ascribed to thi.- that when we follow out a train of thinking of our own, our ideas are arranged in that order which is most agreeable to our prevailing habits of association. The only method of putting our acquired knowledge on a level, in this respect, with our original speculations, is, after making ourselves ac- quainted with our author's ideas, to study the subject over again in our own way; to pause, from time to time, in the course of our reading, in or#er to consider what we have gained ; to recollect what the proposi- tions are, which the author wishes to establish, and to examine the dif- ferent proofs which he employs to support them. In making such an ex- periment, we commonly find, that the different steps of the process ar- range themselves in our minds, in a manner different from that in which the author has stated them ; and that, while his argument seems, in some places, obscure, from its conciseness, it is tedious in others, from being unnecessarily expanded. When we have reduced the reasoning to that form, which appears to ourselves to be the most natural and sa- tisfactory, we may conclude with certainty, not that this form is better in itself than another, bat that it is the best adapted to our memory.— Such reasonings, therefore, as we have occasion frequently to a*pply, either in the business of life, or in the course of our studies, it is of im- portance to us to commit to writing, in a language and in an order of our own ; and if, at any time, we find it necessary to refresh our recol- lection on the subject, to have recourse to our own composition, in pre- ference to that of any other author. That the plan of reading which is commonly followed is very differ- ent from lhat which I have been recommending, will not be disputed — Most people read merely to pass an idle hour, or to please themselves with the idea of employment, while their indolence prevents them from any active exertion; and a considerable number with a view to the display which they are afterwards to make of their literary acquisitions. From which so ever of these motives a person is led to the perusal of books, it is hardly possible that he can derive from them any mnterial adva/.tage Cf he reads merely from indolence, the ideas which pass through his mind will probably leave little or no impression ; and if he sect, v.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 221 reads from vanity, he will be more anxious to select striking particulars in the matter or expression, than to seize the spirit and scope of the au- thor's reasoning, or to examine how far he has made any additions to the stock of useful and solid knowledge. " Though it is scarce possi- " ble," says Dr. Butler,* " to avoid judging, in some way or other, of " almost every thing whi h offers itself to one's thoughts, yet it is cer- " tain, that many persons, from different causes, never exercise their " judgment upon what conies before them, in such a manuer as to be *• al.leto detei mine how far it be conclusive. They are perhaps enter- ••' tained with some things, not so with others; they like, and they dis- " like ; but whether that which is proposed to be made out, be really " made out or not, whether a matter be stated according to the real " truth of the case, seems to the generality of people, a circumstance " of little or no importance. Arguments are often wanted for some ac- " cidental purpose ; but proof, as such, is what they never want, for their " own satisfaction of mind, or conduct in life. Not to mention the multi- " tudes who read merely for the sake of talking, or to qualify themselves " for the world or some such kind of reasons ; there are even of the few " who read for their own entertainment, and have a real curiosity to see " what is said, several, which is astonishing, who have no sort of cu- " riosity to see what is true : I say curiosity, because it is too obvious " to be mentioned how much that religious and sacred attention which " is due to truth, and to the important question, what is the rule of life, •' is lost out of the world. " For the sake of this whole class of readers, for they are of different " capacities, different kinds, and get into this way from different occa- " sions, I have often wished that it had been the custom to lay before " people nothing in matters of argument but premises, and leave them " to draw conclusions themselves; which, although it could not be done 'J irt all cases, might in many. " The great number of books and papers of amusement, which, of " one kind or another, daily come in one's way, have in part occasion- il ed, and most perfectly fall in with and humour this idle way of read- " ingaiW considering things. By this means, time, even in solitude, is " happily got rid of without the pain of attention ; neither is any part 'e of it more put to the account of idleness, one can scarce forbear say- li ing, is spent with less thought, than great part of that which is spent " in reading." If the plan of study which I formerly described were adopted, it would undoubtedly diminish very much the number of books which it would be possible to turn over ; but I am convinced that it would add greatly to the stock of useful and solid knowledge; and by rendering our acquired ideas in some measure our own, would give us a more ready and practical command of them : not to mention, that if we are possessed of any inventive powers, such exercises would continually furnish them with an opportunity of displaying themselves upon all the different subjects which may pass under our review. Nothing, in truth, has such a tendency to weaken, not only the pow- ers of invention, but the intellectual powers in general, as a habit of ex- tensive and various reading, without reflection. The activity and force • See the preface to his Sermons. 222 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VI. of the mind are gradually impaired, in consequence of disuse; and not unfrequently all our principles and opinions come to be lost in the in- finite multiplicity and discordancy of our acquired ideas. By confining our ambition to pursue the truth with modesty and can- dour, and learning to value our acquisitions only as far as they contri- bute to make us wiser and happier, we may perhaps be obliged tf sa- crifice the temporary admiration of the common dispensers of literary fame ; but we may rest assured, that it is in this way only we can hope to make real progress in knowledge, or to enrich the world with useful inventions. "It requires courage, indeed," (as Helvetius has remarked,) " to re- " main ignorant of those useless subjects which are generally valued ;'' but it is a courage necessary to men who either love the truth, or who aspire to establish a permanent reputation. SECTION VI. Continuation of the same Subject.—-Of Artificial Memory. By an Artificial Memory is meant, a method of connecting in the mind, things difficult to be remembered, with things easily remembered j so as to enable it to retain, and to recollect the former, by means of the latter. For this purpose, various contrivances have been proposed, but I think the foregoing definition applies to all of them. Some sorts of artificial memory are intended to assist the natural powers of the human mind on particular occasions which require a more than ordinary effort of recollection ; for example, to assist a pub- lic speaker to recollect the arrangement of a long discourse. Others have been devised with a view to. enable us to extend the cir- cle of our acquired knowledge, and to give us a more ready command of ail the various particulars of our information. The topical Memory, so much celebrated among the ancient rhetori- cians, comes under the former description. I already remarked the effect of sensible objects, in recalling to the mind the ideas with which it happened to be occupied, at the time whe"n these objects were formerly perceived. In travelling along a road, the sight cf the more remarkable scenes we meet with, frequently puts us in mind of the subjects we were thinking or talking of when we last saw them. Such facts, which are perfectly familiar even to the vulgar, might very naturally suggest the possibility of assisting the memory, by establishing a connexion between the ideas we wish to remember, and certain sensible objects, which have been found from experience to make a permanent impression on the mind.* I have been told of a young woman, in a very low rank in life, who contrived a method of committing to memory the sermons which she was accustomed to hear, by fixing her attention, during the different heads of the discourse, on different compartments of the roof of the church ; in such a manner, as * " Cum in loca aliqua post tempus reversi sumus, non ipsa agnoscimus tantum, sed etiam, quae in his fecerimus, reminiscimur, personaeque subeunt, nonnunquam tacitae quoque cogitationes in mentem revertuntur. Nataest igitur, ut in plcris- que, ars ab experimento.—Qcibct. Inst. Orat. lib. xi. cap. 2. Sect. VI.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 223 that, when she afterwards saw the roof, or recollected the order in which its compartments were disposed, she recollected the method which the preacher had observed in treating his subject. This contri- vance was perfectly analogous to the topical memory of the ancients; an art which, whatever be the opinion we entertain of its use, is cer- tainly entitled, in a high degree, to the praise of ingenuity. Suppose that I were to fix in my memory the different apartments in some very large building, and that I had accustomed myself to think of these apartments always in the same invariable order. Suppose farther, that, in preparing myself for a public discourse, in which I had occa- sion to treat of a great variety of particulars, I was anxious to fix in my memory the order I proposed to observe in the communication of my ideas. It is evident, that by a proper division of my subject into heads, and by connecting each head with a particular apartment, (which I could easily do, by conceiving myself to be sitting in the apartment while I was studying the part of my discourse 1 meant to connect with it,) the habitual order in which these apartments occurred to my thoughts, would present to me, in their proper arrangement, and with- out any effort on my part, the ideas of which I was to treat. It is also obvious, that a very little practice would enable me to avail myself of this contrivance, without any embarrassment or distraction of my at- tention.*- As to the utility of this art, it appears to me to depend entirely on the particular object which we suppose the speaker to have in view ; whether, as was too often the case with the ancient rhetoricians, to be- wilder a judge, and to silence an adversary; or fairly andxandidly to lead an audience to the truth. On the former suppoiition, nothing can possibly give an orator a greater superiority, than the possession of a secret, which, while it enables him to express himself with facility and the appearance of method, puts it in his power, at the same time, to dispose his arguments and his facts, in whatever order he judges to be the most proper to mislead the judgment, and to perplex the memory, of those whom he addresses. And such, it is manifest, is the effect, not only of the topical memory of the ancients, but of all other contrivances which aid the recollection, upon any principle different from the natural and logical arrangement of our ideas. To those on the other hand, who speak with a view to convince or to inform others, it is of consequence that the topic* which they mean to illustrate, should be arranged in an order equally favourable to their own recollection and to that of their hearers. For this purpose, nothing is effectual, but that method which is suggested by the order of their own investigations; a method which leads the mind from one idea to another either by means of obvious and striking associations, or by those rela- * In so far as it was the object of this species of artificial memory to assist an orator in recollecting the plan and arrangement of hjs discourse, the accounts of it which are given by the ancient rhetoricians are abundantly satisfactory. It ap- pears, however, that its use was more extensive ; and that it was so contrived, as to facilitate the recollection of a premeditated composition. In what manner this was done, it is not easy to conjecture from the imperfect explanations of the art which have been transmitted to modern times. The reader may consult Cicero de Orat. lib. ii. cap. 87, 88. Rhetor ad Herennium, lib. in. cap. 16. et seq — Qrixc-m, Inst. Orat. lib. xi. cap. 2. 224 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VI. lions which connect the different steps of a clear and accurate proc** of reasoning. It is thus only that the attention of an audien- « i-a.i be com- pletely and incessantly engaged, and that the substam-e of a long dis- course can be remembered without effort. And it is. thus only that a speaker, after a mature consideration of his subject, ea: po^ess a just confidence in his own powers of recollection, In stating all the different premises which lead to the conclusion he wishes to establish) In modern times, such contrivances hive been very little, if ut all, made use of by public speakers : b.t various ingenious attempts have been made, to assist the memory, in acquiring and retaining those branches of knowledge which it has been supposed necessary for a scholar to carry always about with him ; and which, at the same time, from the number of particular details which they involve, are not cal- culated, of themselves, to make a very lasting impression on the mind. Of this sort is the Memoria Technica of Mr. Grey, iu which a great deal of historical, chronological, and geographical knowledge is « orn- prised in a set of verses, which ihe student is supposed to m;ike as fa- miliar to himself as school-boys do the rules of grammar. These verses are, in general, a mere assemblage of proper names, disposed iu a rude sort of measure ; some slight alterations being occasionally made on the final syllables of the words so as to be significant (according to cer- tain principles laid down in the begim ing of the work) of important date.-, or of other particulars which it appeared to tlu> author useful to associate with the names. I have heard very opposite opinions with respect to the utility of this ingenious system. The prevailing opinion is, 1 believe, against it; al- though it has been mentioned in terms of high approbation by some wri- ters of eminence. Dr Priestley, whose judgment in matters of this sort is certainly entitled to respect, has said, that " it is a method so easily '• learned, and which may be of so much use in recollecting dates, when " other methods are not at hand, that lie thinks all per- ins of a liberal " education inexcusable, who will not take the small degree of pains " that is necessary to make themselves masters of it; or who think any " thing mean, or unworthy oftheir notice, which is so useful and con- " venient.* In judging of the utility of this, or of any other contrivance of the same kind, to a particular person, a great deal mu-l depend on the spe- cies of memory which he has received from nature, or has ai quired in the course of his early education. Some men, (as I already remarked, especially among those who have been habitually exercised in childhood in getting by heart grammar rules) haw an extraordinary facility in ac- quiring and retaining the most barbarous and the most insignificant ver- ses: which another person would find as difficult to remember, as the geographical and chronological details of which it is the object of this art to relieve the memory. Allowing, therefore, the general utility of the art, no one method, perhaps, is entitled to an exclusive preference ; as one contrivance may be best suited to the faculties of one person, and a very different one to those of another. One important objection applies to all of them, that they accustom the mind to associate ideas by accidental and arbitrary connexions ; and, • Lectures on History, p. 157. sect, vil] OF THE* HUMAN MIND. 225 therefore, how much soever they may contribute, in the course of con- versation, to an ostentatious display of acquired knowledge, they are, perhaps, of little real service to us, when we are seriously engaged in the pursuit of truth. I own, too, I am very doubtful with respect to the utility of a great pait of that information which they are commonly em- ployed to impres.s on the memory, and on which the generality of learn- ed men are disposed to value themselves. It certainly is of no use, but in so far as it is subservient to the gratification oftheir vanity; and the acquisition of it consumes a great deal of time and attention, which might have been employed in extending the boundaries of human know- ledge To those, however, who are of a different opinion, such con- trivances as Mr. Grey's may be extremely useful: and to all men they may be of service, in fixing in the memory those insulated and uninter- esting particulars, which it is either necessary for them to be acquaint- ed with, from their situation; or which custom has rendered, iu the common opinion, essential branches of a liberal education. I would in particular, red unmeud this author's method of recollecting dates, by substituting letters for the numerical cyphers ; and forming these let- ters into words, and the words into verses. I have found it, at least in my own case, the most effectual of all such contrivances of which I have had experience. SECTION VII. Continuation of the same Subject.—Importance of making a proper Selection among the Objects of our Knowledge, in order to derive Advantage from the Acquisitions of Memory. The cultivation of Memory, with all the helps that we can derive to it from art, will be of little use to us, unless we make a proper selection of the particulars to be remembered. Suc*h a selection is necessary to enable us to profit by reading ; and still more so, to enable us to profit by observation, to which every man is indebted for by far the most va- luable part of his knowledge. When we first enter on any new literary pursuit, we commonly find our efforts of attention painful and unsatisfactory. We have no discrim- ination in our curiosity, and by grasping at every thing, we fail in mak- ing those moderate acquisitions which are suited to our limited faculties. As our knowledge extends, we learn to know what particulars are likely to be of use to us, and acqui e a habit of directing our examina- tion to these, without distracting the attention with others. It is part- ly owing to a similar circumstance, that most readers complain of a de- fect of memory, when they first enter on the study of history. They cannot separate important from trifling facts, and find themselves una- ble to retain any thing, from their anxiety to secure the whole. In order to give a proper direction to our attention in the course of our studies, it is useful, before engaging in particular pursu its, to acquire as familiar an acquaintance as possible with the great outlines of the different branches of science ; with the most important conclusions which have hitherto been formed in them, and with the most important desiderata which remain to be supplied. In the case too of those parts of knowledge, which are not yet ripe for the formation of philosophical vol. i. 29 226 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. >.L systems, it may be of use to study the various hypothetical theories which have "been proposed for connecting together and arranging the phenomena. By such general views alone we can prevent ourselves from being lost amidst a labyrinth of-particulars, or can engage in a course of extensive and various reading, with an enlightened and dis- criminating attention. While they withdraw our notice from barren and insulated facts, they direct it to such as tend to illustrate principles which have either been already established, or which, from having that degree of connexion among themselves, which is necessary to give plausibility to a hypothetical theory, are likely to furnish, in time, the materials of a juster system. Some of the followers of Lord Bacon, have, I think, been led, in their zeal for the method of induction, to censure hypothetical theories with too great a degree of severity. Such theories have certainly been fre- quently of use, in putting philosophers upon the road of discovery. In- deed, it has probably been in this way, that most discoveries have been made; for although a knowledge of facts must be prior to the formation of a just theory, yet a hypothetical theory is generally our best guide to the knowledge of useful facts. If a man, without forming to himself any conjecture concerning the unknown laws of nature, were to set himself merely to accumulate facts at random, he might, perhaps, stumble up- on some important discovey; but by far the greater part of his labours would be wholly useless. Every philosophical inquirer, before he be- gins a set of experiments, has some general principle in his view, which he suspects to be a law of nature :* and although his conjectures may be often wrong, yet they serve to give his inquiries a particular direction and to bring under his eye a number of facts which have a certain rela- tion to each other. It has been often remarked that the attempts to dis- cover the philosopher's stone, and the quadrature of the circle, have led to many useful discoveries in chemistry and mathematics. And they have plainly done so, merely by limiting the field of observation and in- quiry, and checking that indiscriminate and desultory attention which is so natural to an indolent mind. A hypothetical theory, however erro- neous, may answer a similar purpose. " Prudens interrogatio," (says Lord Bacon,) " est dimidium scientias. Vaga enim experientia et se " tantum sequens mera palpatio est, et homines potius stupefacit quam "informal." What, indeed, are Newton's queries, but so many hypo- theses which are proposed as subjects of examination to philosophers ? And did not even the great doctrine of gravitation Lake its first rise from a fortunate conjecture ? While, therefore, we maintain, with the followers of Bacon, that no theory is to be admitted as proved any farther than it is supported by facts, we shotild, at the same time, acknowledge our obligations to those writers who hazard their conjectures to the world with modesty and diffidence. And it may not be improper to add, that men of a system- atizing turn are not now so useless as formerly ; for we are already possessed of a great stock of facts; and there is scarcely any theory so • " Recte siquidem Plato, * Qui aliquid quaerit, id ipsum, quod quaerit, general! quadam notione comprehendit : aliter, qui fieri potest, ut illud, cum fuerit in- ventum, agnoscat " Idcirco quo .implior et certior fuerit anticipatio nostra; e© magis directs et compendiosa erit invcsiigatio. De Aug. Scient. lib. v. cap. 3. Sect. VII.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 227 bad as not to bring together a number of particulars which have a cer- tain degree of relation or analogy to each other. The foregoing remarks are applicable to all our various studies ; whether they are conducted in the way of reading, or of observation. From neither of these two sources of information can we hope to de- rive much advantage, unless we have some general principles to di- rect our attention to proper objects. With respect to observation, some farther cautions maybe useful; for in guarding against an indiscriminate accumulation of particulars, it is possible to fall into the opposite extreme, and to acquire a habit of inattention to the phenomena which present themselves to our senses. The former is the error of men of little education ; the latter is more common among men of retirement and study. One of the chief effects of a liberal education, is to enable us to with- draw our attention from the present objects of our perceptions, and to dwell at pleasure on the past, the absent, or the future. But when we are led to carry these efforts to an excess, either from a warm and ro- mantic imagination, or from an anxious and sanguine temper, it is easy to see that the power of observation is likely to be weakened, and hab- its of inattention to be contracted. The same effect may be produced by too early an indulgence in philosophical pursuits, before the mind has been prepared for the study of general truths by exercising its fa- culties among particular objects, and particular occurrences. In this way, it contracts an aversion to the examination of details, from the pleasure which it has experienced in the contemplation or in the dis- covery of general principles. Both of these turns of thought, however, presuppose a certain degree of observation; for the materials of imagin- ation are supplied by the senses ; and the general truths which occupy the philosopher would be wholly unintelligible to him, if he was a total stranger to all experience with respect to the course of nature and of human life. The observations, indeed, which are made by men of a warm imagination, are likely to be inaccurate and fallacious, and those of the speculative philosopher are frequently carried no farther than is necessary to enable him to comprehend the terms which relate to the subjects of his reasonings ; but both the one and the other must have looked abroad occasionally at nature, and at the world ; if not to ascer- tain facts by actual examination, at least to store their minds with ideas. The metaphysician, whose attention is directed to the faculties and operations of the mind, is the only man who possesses within himself the materials of his speculations and reasonings. It is accordingly among this class of literary men, that habits of inattention to things external have been carried to the greatest extreme. It is observed by Dr. Reid, that the power of reflection, (by which he means the power of attending to the subjects of our consciousness,) is the last of our intellectual faculties which unfolds itself; and that in the reater part of mankind, it never unfolds itself at all. It is a power, in- eed, which being subservient merely to the gratification of metaphysi- cal curiosity, it is not essentially necessary for us to possess, in any con- siderable degree. The power of observation, on the other hand, which is necessary for the preservation even of our animal existence, discovers itself in infants long before they attain the use of speech ; or ralher, I 228 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [flap. VI. should have said, as soon as they come into the world : a1 d >i In re na- ture is allowed free scope, it continues active and vigorous ihfii.-.h life. It wii.-. plainly the intention of nature, that in infancy and youth it should occupy the mind almost exclusively, and th essive indulgence m cetaphysical pursuits, have weak* ned, to an unna'ural degree, their capacity of attending to exter- nal objects and occurrences. Few metaphysicians, perhaps, are to be found, who are not deficient in the power of observation : for, although a taste for such abstract speculation^ is far from being common, it is more apt, perhaps, than any other, when it has once been formed, to take an exclusive hold of the mind, and to shut up the other sources of intellectual improvement. As the metaphysician carries within him elf the materials of his reasoning, he is not under the necessity of looking abroad for subjects of speculation or amusement; and unless he be very careful to guard against the effects of his favourite pursuits, he is iu more danger than literary men of any other denomination, to lose all interest about the common and proper objects of human curiosity. To prevent any danger from this quarter, I apprehend that the study of the mind should form the last branch of the education of youth ; an order which nature herself seems to point out, by what I have already remarked, with respect to the developement of our faculties. A'terthe understanding is well stored with particular facts, and has been conver- sant with particular scientific pursuits, il will be enabled to speculate concerning its own powers with additional advantage, and will run no hazard of indulging too far in such inquiries. Nothing can be more absurd, on this as well as on many other accounts, than the common practice, which is followed iu our universities, of beginning a course of philosophical education with the study of logic. If this order were completely reversed, and if the study of logic were delayed till after the mind of the student was well stored with particular facts in physics, in chemistry, in natural and civil history, his attention might be led with the most important advantage, and without any danger to his power of observation, to an examination of his own faculties ; which, besides opening to him a new and pleasing field of speculation, would enable him to form an estimate of his own power*, of the acquisitions he has made, of the habits be has formed, and of the farther improvements of which his mind is susceptible. In general, wherever habits of inattention, and an incapacity of ob- servation, are very remarkable, they will be found to have arisen from sect. viii. J OF THE HUMAN MIND. 229 some defect in early education. I have already remarked, that, when nature is allowed free scope, curiosity, during early youth, is alive to every external object, and to every external occurrence, while the pow- ers of imagination and reflection do not display themselves till a much later period ; the former till about the age of puberty, and the latter till we approach to manhood. It sometimes, however, happens that, in consequence of a peculiar disposition of mind, or of an infirm bodily con- stitution, a child is led to seek amusement from books, and to lose a relish for those recreations which are suited to his age. In such instan- ces,lhe ordinary progress of the intellectual powers is prematurely quick- ened ; but that best of all educations is lost, which nature has prepared both for the philosopher and the man of the world, amidst the active sports and the hazardous adventures of childhood. It is from these alone that we can acquire, not only that force of character which is suited to the more arduous situations of life, but that complete and prompt command of attention to things external, without which the highest endowments of the understanding, however they may fit a man for the solitary speculations of the closet,.are but of little use in the prac- tice of affairs, or for enabling him to profit by his personal experience. Where, however, such habits of inattention have unfortunately been contracted, we ought not to despair of them as perfectly incurable. The attention, indeed, as I formerly remarked, can seldom be forced in particular instances ; but we may gradually learn to place the objects we wish to attend to, in lights more interesting than those in which we have been accustomed to view them. Much may be expected from a change of scene, and a change of pursuits; but above all, much may be expected from foreign travel. The objects which we meet will ex- cite our surprise by their novelty; and in this manner we not only grad- ually acquire the power of observing and examining them with atten- tion, but, from the effects of contrast, the curiosity comes to be roused with respect to the corresponding objects in our own country, which, from our early familiarity with them, we had formerly been accustomed to overlook. In this respect the effects of foreign travel, in directing the attention to familiar objects and Occurrences, is somewhat analogous to that which the study of a dead or a foreign language produces, in leading the curiosity to examine the grammatical structure of our own. Considerable advantage may also be derived, in overcoming the hab- its of inattention, which we may have contracted to particular subjects, from studying the systems, true or false, which philosophers have pro- posed for explaining or for arranging the facts connected with them. By means of these systems, not only is the curiosity circumscribed and directed, instead of being allowed to wander at random, but, in con- sequence of our being enabled to connect facts with general principles, it becomes interested in the examination of those particulars which would otherwise have escaped our notice. SECTION VIII. Of Connexion between Memory and Philosophical Genius. It is commonly supposed, that genius is seldom united with a very enacious memory. So far, however, as my own observation has reach- 230 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VI. ed, I can scarcely recollect one person who possesses the former of these qualities, without a more than ordinary share of the latter. On a superficial view of the subject, indeed, the common opinion has some appearance of truth ; for, we are naturally led, in consequence of the topics about which conversation is usually employed, to estimate the extent of memory, by the impression which trivial occurrences make upon it, and these in general escape the recollection of a man of ability, not because he is unable lo retain them, but because he docs not attend to them. It is probable, likewise, that accidental associations, founded on contiguity in time and place, may make but a slight impression on his mind. But it does not therefore follow, lhat his stock of facts is small. They are connected together in his memory by principles of as- sociation, different from those which prevail in ordinary minds; and they are on that very account the more useful: for as the associations are founded upon real connexions among the ideas, (although they may be less conducive to the fluency, and perhaps to the wit of conversa- tion,) they are of incomparably greater use in suggesting facts which are to serve as a foundation for reasoning or for invention. It frequently happens, too, that a man of genius, in consequence of a peculiar strong attachment to a particular subject, may first feel a want of inclination, and may afterwards acquire a want of capacity of attend- ing to common occurrences. But it is probable that the whole stock of ideas in his mind, is not inferior to that of other men ; and that how- ever unprofitably he may have directed his curiosity, the ignorance which he discovers on ordinary subjects does not arise from a want of memory, but from a peculiarity in the selection which he has made of the objects of his study. Montaigne* frequently complains iu his writings of his want of mem- ory *, and he indeed gives many very extraordinary instances of his ig- norance on some of the most ordinary topics of information. But it Is obvious to any person who reads his works with attention, that this ig- norance did not proceed from an original defect of memory, but from the singular and whimsical direction which his curiosity had taken at an early period of life. " I can do nothing," says he, " without my " memorandum book; and so great is my difficulty in remembering " proper names, that I am forced to call my domestic servants by their " offices. I am ignorant of ihe greater part of our coins in use ; of the " difference of one grain from another, both in the earth and in the " granary ; what use leaven is of making bread, and why wine must " stand sometime iu the vat before it ferments." Yet the same author appears evidently, from his writings, to have had his memory stored with an infinite variety of apothegms, and of historical passages, which had struck his imagination ; and to have been familiarly acquainted, not only with the names, but with the absurd and exploded opinions of the ancient philosophers; with the ideas of Plalo, the atoms of Epicu- rus, the plenum and vacuuinofLeucippus and Democritus, the water of Thales, the numbers of Pythagoras, the infinite of Parrnenides, and the unity of Musseus. In complaining too of his want of presence of mind, he indirectly acknowledges a degree of memory which, if it had II n'est homme a qu il siese si mal de se mesler de parler de memoire. Car. je n'en recognoy q*asi trace en moy ; et ne pense qu'il y en ait au monde une autre si roarveilleuse en defaillanco. Essais de Mostaiqbb, liv. L cb. 9. eeCt. VIII.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. ^«31 been judiciously employed, would have been more than sufficient for the acquisition of all those common branches of knowledge iu which he appears to have been deficient. " When I have an oration to speak, says he, " of any considerable length, lam reduced to the miserable " necessity of getting it, word for word, by heart."' The strange and apparently inconsistent combination of knowledge and ignorance which the writings of Montaigne exhibit, led Malebrhn- che (who seems to have formed too low an opinion both of his genius and character) to tax him with affectation ; and even to call in ques- tion the credibility of some of his assertions. But no one who is well acquainted with this most amusing author, can reasonably suspect his veracity ; and, in the present instance, I can give him complete cred- it, not only from my general opinion of his sincerity, but from having observed, in the course of my own experience, more than one example of the same sort of combination ; not indeed carried to such a length as Montaigne describes, but bearing a striking resemblance to it. The observations which have already been made, account, in part, for the origin of the common opinion, that genius and memory are sel- dom united in great degrees in the same person ; and at the same time shew, that some of the facts on which that opinion is founded, do not justify such a conclusion. Besides these, however, there are other cir- cumstances, which at first view, seem rather to indicate an inconsisten- cy between extensive memory and original genius. The species of memory which excites the greatest degree of admira- tion in the ordinary intercourse of society, is a memory for detached and insulated facts ; and it is certain that those men who are possessed of it, are very seldom distinguished by the higher gifts of the mind. Such a species of memory is unfavourable to philosophical arrangement, be- cause it in part supplies the place of arrangement. One great use of philosophy, as I have already shewed, is to give us an extensive com- mand of particular truths, by furnishing us with general principles, un- • der which a number of such truths is comprehended. A person in whose mind casual associations of time and place make a lasting im- pression, has not the same inducements to philosophize, with others, who connect facts together chiefly by the relations of cause and effect, or of premises and conclusion. I have heard it observed, that those men who have risen to the greatest eminence in the profession of law, have been in general such as had, at first, an aversion to the study. The reason probably is, that to a mind fond of general principles, every stu- dy must be at first disgusting, which presents it to a chaos of facts ap- parently unconnected with each other. But this love of arrangement, if united with persevering industry, will at last conquer every difficul- ty ; will introduce order into what seemed on a superficial view, a mass of confusion, and reduce the dry and uninteresting detail of posi- tive statutes into a system comparatively luminous and beautiful. The observation, I believe, may be made more general, and may be applied to every science in which there is a great multiplicity of facts to be remembered. A man destitute of genius may, with little effort treasure up in his memory a number of particulars in chemistry or natu. ral history, which he refers to no principle, and from which he deduces no conclusion ; and from his facility in acquiring this stock of informa- tion, may flatter himself with the belief that he possesses a natural taste 232 ELEMENT3 OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VI. for these branches of knowledge. But they who are really destined to extend the boundaries of science, when they first enter on new pursuits, feel their attention distracted, and their memory overloaded with lacts anion"- which they can trace no relation, and are sometimes apt to des- pair entirely of their future progress. Indue time, however, their su- periority appears, and arises in part from that very dissatisiaction which they at first experienced, and which does not cease to stimulate their inquiries till they are enabled to trace, amidst a chaos of apparently unconnected materials, that simplicity and beauty which always char- acterize the operations of nature. There are, besides, other circumstances which retard the progress of a man of genius, when he enters on a new pursuit, and which sometimes render him apparently inferior to those who are possessed of ordinary capacity. A want of curiosity,* and of invention, facilitates greatly the acquisition of knowledge. It renders the mind passive, in receiv- ing the ideas of others, and saves all the time which might be employ- ed in examining their foundation, or in tracing their consequences. They who are possessed of such acuteness and originality, enter with difficulty into the views of others ; not from any defect in their power of apprehension, but because they cannot adopt opinions which they have not examined, and because their attention is often seduced by their own speculations. It is not merely in the acquisition of knowledge that a man of genius is likely to find himself surpassed by others : he has commonly his infor- mation much less at command, than those who are possessed of an infe- rior degree of originality ; and, what is somewhat remarkable, he has it least of all at command on those subjects on which he has found his invention most fertile. Sir Isaac Newton, as we are told by Dr. Pem- berton, was often at a loss, when the conversation turned on his own discoveries.t It is probable that they made but a slight impression on his mind, and lhat a consciousness of his inventive powers prevented him from taking much pains to treasure them up in his memory. Men of little ingenuity seldom forget the ideas they acquire ; because they know that when an occasion occurs for applying their knowledge to use, they must trust to memory and not to invention. Explain an arithmetical rule to a person of common understanding, who is unac- quainted with the principles of the science; he will soon get the rule by heart, and become dexterous in the application of it. Another, of more ingenuity, will examine the principle of the rule before he applies it to use, and will scarcely take the trouble to commit to memory a pro- cess, which he knows he can, at any time, with a little reflection recov- er. The consequence will be, that, in the practice of calculation, he will appear more slow and hesitatiig, than if he followed the received rules of arithmetic without reflection or reasoning. Something of the same kind happens everyday in conversation. By far the greater part of the opinions we announce in it, are not the im- mediate result of reasoning on the spot, but have been previously formed ♦I mean a want of curiosity about truth, Cl There are many men," says Dr. Butler, " who have a strong curiosity to know what is said, who have little or n« *•" curiosity to know what is true." t See Note (T.) sect, viil] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 233 in the closet, or perhaps have been adopted implicitly on the authority of others. The promptitude, therefore, with which a man decides in ordinary discourse, is not a certain test of the quickness of his apprehen- sion ;* as it may perhaps arise from those uncommon efforts to furnish the memory with acquired knowledge, by which men of slow parts en- deavour to compensate for their want of invention ; while, on the other hand, it is possible that a consciousness of originality may give rise to a manner, apparently embarrassed, by leading the person who fe3ls it, to trust too much to extempore exertions.t In general, I believe it may be laid down as a rule, that those who carry about with them a great degree of acquired information, which they have always at command, or who have rendered their own disco- veries so familiar to them, as always to be in a condition to explain them, without recollection, are very seldom possessed of much invention, or even of much quickness of apprehension. A man of original genius, who is fond of exercising his reasoning powers anew on every point as it occurs to him, and who cannot submit to rehearse the ideas of others, or to repeat by rote the conclusions which he has deduced from pre- vious reflection often appears; to superficial observers, to fall below the level of ordinary understandings; while another, destitute both of quick- ness and invention, is admired for that piornptitude in his decisions, which arises from the inferiority of his intellectual abilities. It must indeed be acknowledged in favour of the last description of men, that in ordinary conversation they fern the most agreeable, and perhaps the most instructive companions. How inexhaustible soever the invention of an individual may be, the variety of his own peculiar ideas can bear no proportion to the whole mass of useful and curious in- formation of which the world is already possessed. The conversation, accordingly, of men of genius, is sometimes extremely limited ; and is interesting to the few alone, who know the value, and who can distin- guish the marks of originality. In consequence too of that partiality which every man -feels for his own speculations, they are more in dan- ger of being dogmatical and disputatious, than those who have no sys- tem which they are interested to defend. The same observations may be applied to authors. A book which contains the discoveries of one individual only, may be admired by a few, who are intimately acquainted with the history of the science to which it relates, but it has little chance for popularity with the multi- tude. An author who possesses industry sufficient to collect the ideas of others, and judgment sufficient to arrange them skilfully, is the most * Memo.'ia facit prompti ingenii famam, ut ilia quae d'.cimus, non domo attu- lisse, sed ibi protinus sumpsisse videamur. Quihct. Inst. Orat. lib. xi. cap. 2. f In the foregoing observations it is not meant to be implied, that originality of genius is incompatible with a ready recollection of acquired knowledge; but only that it has a tendency unfavourable to it, and that more time and practice will commonly be necessary to familiarize the mind of a man of invention to the ideas of oihers, or even to the conclusions of his own understanding, than are requisite in ordinary cases. Habits of literary conversation, and, still more, habits of ex- tempore discussion in a popular assembly, are peculiarly useful in giving us a rea- dy and practical command of our knowledge. There is much good sense in the following apiorism of Bacon : " Reading makes a full nun, writing a correct man, and speaking a ready man." See a commentary on this aphorism in one of the Numbers of the Adventurer. Vol. i. 30 234 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. YII. likely person to acquire a high degree of literary fame : and although, in the opinion of enlightened judges, invention forms the chief charac- teristic of genius, yet it commonly happens that the objects of public admiration are men who are much less distinguished by this quality, than by extensive learning and cultivated taste. Perhaps too, for the multitude, the latter class of authors is the most useful; as their writings contain the more solid discoveries which others have brought to light, separated from those errors, with which truth is often blended in the first formation of a system. CHAPTER SEVENTH. OF IMAGINATION. SECTION I. Analysis of Imagination. _|_n attempting to draw the line between Conception and Imagination, I have already observed, that the province of the former is to present us with an exact transcript of what we have fermerly felt and prrceiv- ed ; that of the latter, to make a selection of qualities and of circumstan- ces from a variety of different objects, and by combining and disposing these, to form a new creation of its own. According to the definitions adopted, in general, by modern philoso- phers, the province of imagination would appear to be limited to objects of sight. " It is the sense of sight," (says Mr. Addison,) " which fur- " nishesthe Imagination with its ideas; so that by the pleasures of lm- " agination, I here mean such as arise from visible objects, either when " we have them actually in view, or when we call up their ideas into " our minds, by paintings, statues, descriptions, or any the like occa- " sions. We cannot, indeed, have a single image in the fancy, that did " not make its first entrance through the sight." Agreeably to the same view of the subject, Dr. Reid observes, that " Imagination properly " signifies a lively conception of objects of sight; the former power be- " ing distinguished from the latter, as a part from the whole " That this limitation of the province of imagination to one particular class of our perceptions is altogether arbitrary, seems to me to be evi- dent ; for, although the greater part of the materials which imagination combines be supplied by this sense, it is nevertheless indisputable, that our other perceptive faculties also contribute occasionally their share. How many pleasing images have been borrowed from the fragrance of the fields and the melody of the groves; not to mention that sister art, whose magical influence over the human frame, it has been, in all ages, the highest boast of poetry to celebrate ! In the following passage, even the more gross sensations of Taste form the subject of an ideal re- past, on which it is impossible not to dwell with some complacency; particularly after a perusal of the preceding lines, in which the Poet de- scribes "the wonders of the Torrid Zone." Bear me, Pomona ! to thy citron groves ; To where the lemon and the piercing lime, sect, i.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 235 With the deep ocange, glowiup through the green, Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclin'd Beneath the spreading tamarind that shakes, Fann'd by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit: Or, stretch'd amid these orchards of the sun, O let me drain the cocoa's milky bowl, More bounteous far than all the frantic juice Which Bacchus pours ! Nor, on its slender twigs Low bending, be the full pomegranate scorn'd; Nor, creeping through the woods, the gelid race Of berries. Oft in humble station dwells Unboaslful worth, above fastidious pomp. Witness, thou best Anana, thou the pride Of vegetable life, beyond whate'er The Poets imag'd in the golden age: Quick let me strip thee of thy spiny coat, Spread thy ambrosial stores, and feast with Jove !* What an assemblage of other conceptions, different from all those hitherto mentioned, has the genius of Virgil combined in one distich I Hie gelidi fentes, hie mollia prata, Lycori, Hie nemus : hie ipso tecum consumerer aevo. These observations are sufficient to show, how inadequate a notion of the province of Imagination (considered even in its reference to the sen- sible world) is conveyed by the definitions of Mr. Addison and of Dr. Reid.—But the sensible world, it must be remembered, is not the only field where Imagination exerts her powers. All the objects of humau knowledge supply materials to her forming hand; diversifying infinite- ly the works she produces, while the mode of her operation remains essentially uniform. As it is the same power of Reasoning which ena- bles us to carry on our investigations with respect to individual objects, and with respect to classes or genera ; so it was by the same process of Analysis and Combination, that the genius of Milton produced the Garden of Eden ; that of Harrington, the Commonwealth of Oceana; and that of Shakspeare, the characters of Hamlet and Falstaff. The difference between the several efforts of invention, consists only in the manner in which the original materials were acquired ; as far as the power of Imagination is concerned, the processes are perfectly analo- gous. The attempts of Mr. Addison and of Dr. Reid to limit the province of imagination to objects of sight, have plainly proceeded from a very important fact, which it may be worth while to illustrate more particu- larly :—That the mind has a greater facility, and, of consequence, a greater delight in recalling the perceptions of this sense than those of any of the others; while at the same time, the variety of qualities per- ceived by it is incomparably greater. It is this sense, accordingly, which supplies the painter and the statuary with all the subjects on which their genius is exercised ; and which furnishes to the descriptive poet the largest and the most valuable portion of the materials which he combines In that absurd species of prose composition, too, which borders on poetry, nothing is more remarkable tban the predominance of phrases that recall to the memory glaring colours, and those splendid ♦Thomson's Summer. 236 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [ckap. VII. appearances of nature, which make a slrong impression onthoeye. It has been mentioned by different writers, aa a characterisiical circum- stance in the Oriental or Asiatic style, that the greater part of the meta- phors are taken from the celestial luminaries. '* The Works of the 1\ i - " sians," (says M. de Voltaire,) "are like the titles of their kings, in '■ which we are perpetually dazzled with the sun and the moon." Sir William Jones, in a short Essay on the Poetr)' of Eastern Nations, has endeavoured to shew, that this is not owing to the bad taste of the A- siatics, but to the old language and popular religion of their country. But the truth is, that the very same criticism will be found to apply to the juvenile productions of every author possessed of a warm imagina- tion; and to the compositions of every people, among whom a cultiva- ted and philosophical taste hasnot established a sufficiently marked dis- tinction between the appropriate styles of poetry and of prose The account given by the Abbe Girard of the meaning of the word Phebus, as employed by the French critics, confirms strongly this observation. u Le Phebus a un hrillantqui signifie, ou semble signifierquelque chose : " le soleil y entre d'ordinaire; et e'est peut-etre ce qui, en noire langue, " a donne lieu au nom de Phebus."* Agreeably to these principles, Gray, in describing the infantine reve- ries of poetical genius, has fixed, with exquisite judgment, on this class of our conceptions: Yet oft before his infant eye would run Such Forms as glitter in the Muse's ray With Orient hues.----------- From these remarks it may be easily understood, why the word Ima- gination, in its most ordinary acceptation, should be applied to cases where our conceptions are derived from the sense of sight; although the province of this power be, in fact, as unlimited as the sphere of hu- man enjoyment and of human thought. Hence, the origin of those par- tial definitions which I have been attempting to correct; and hence too, the origin of the word Imagination; the etymology of which implies manifestly a reference to visible objects. To all the various modes in which imagination may display itself, the greater pari of the remarks contained in this chapter will be found to apply, under proper limitations ; but, iu order to render the subject more obvious to the reader's examination, I shall, in the farther prosecution of it, endeavour to convey my ideas, rather by means of particular exam- ples, than in the form of general principles; leaving it to his own judg- ment to determine, with what modifications the conclusions to which we are led, may be extended to other combinations of circumstances. Among the innumerable phenomena which this part of our constitu- tion presents lo or examination, the combinations which the mind forms out of materials supplied by the power of conception recommend themselves strongly, both by their simplicity, and by the interesting na- ture of tu i discussions to which they lead. I shall avail myself, there- fore, as mu h as possible, in the following inquiries, of whatever illus- trations I am able to borrow from the arts of Poetry and of Painting ; the operations of'imagination in these arts furnishing the most inlelligi- * Sy noDymes Fran cois. Sect. I.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 137 ble and pleasing exemplifications of the intellectual processes, by which, in those analogous but less palpable instances that fall under the con- sideration of the Moralist, the mind deviates from the models presented to it by experience, and forms to itself new and untried objects of pur- suit. It is in consequence of such processes, (which, how little soever they may be attended to, are habitually passing in the thoughts of all men,) that human affairs exhibit so busy and so various a scene ; tend- ing, in one cas-1, to improvement, and, in another, to decline ; according as our notions of excellence and of happiness are just or erroneous. It was observed in a former part of this work, that imagination is a complex power.* It includes Conception or simple Apprehension, which enables us to form a notion of those former objects of perception or cf knowledge, out of which we are to make a selection ; Abstraction, which separates the selected materials from the qualities and circum- stances which are connected with them in nature; and Judgment or Taste, which selects the materials, and directs their combination. To these powers, we may add that particular habit of association to which I formerly gave the name of fancy; as it is this which presents to our choice, all the different materials which are subservient to the efforts of imagination, and which may therefore be considered as forming the ground-work of poetical genius. To illustrate these observations, let us consider the steps by which Milton must have ptoceeded in creating his imaginary garden of Eden. When he first proposed to himself that subject of description, it is rea- sonable to suppose that a variety of the most striking scenes which he had seen crouded into his mind. The association of ideas suggested them, and the power of conception placed each of them before him with all its beauties and imperfections. In every natural scene, if we destine it for any particular purpose, there are defects and redundancies, which art may sometimes, but cannot always, correct. But the power of im- agination is unlimited. She can create and annihilate ; and dispose, at pleasure, her woods, her rocks, and her rivers. Milton, accordingly, would not copy his Eden from any one scene, but would select from each the features which were most eminently beautiful. The power of abstraction enabled him to make the separation, and taste directed him in the selection. Thus he was furnished with his materials ; by a skilful combination of which, he has created a lands< ape, more pe feet probably in all its parts, than was ever realized iu nature ; and ceriain- ly very different from any thing which this country exhibited, at the period when he wrote. It is a curious remark of Mr. Wal;iole, that Milton's Eden is free from the defects of the old English garden, and is imagined on the same principles which it was reserved for the present age to carry into execution. From what has been said, it is sufficiently evident, lhat Imagination is not a simple power of the mind, like Attention, Conception, or Ab- straction ; but that it is formed by a combination of various faculties. It is farther evident, that it must appear under very different forms, in the case of different individuals ; as some of its component parts are lia- ble to be greatly influenced by habit and other accidental circumstan- ces. The variety, for example, of the materials out of which the com- binations of the Poet or the Painterare formed, will depend much on ♦See Page 70. 238 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VII. the tendency of external situation to store the mind with a multiplicity of Conceptions ; and the beauty of these combinations will depend en- tirely on the success with which the power of Taste has been cultivated. What we call, therefore, the power of Imagination, is not the gift of na« ture, but the result of acquired habits, aided by favourable circumstan- ces. It is not an original endowment of the mind, but an accomplish- ment formed by experience and situation ; and which, in its different gradations, fills up all the interval between the first efforts of untutored genius, and the sublime creations of Raphael or of Milton. An uncommon degree of Imagination constitutes poetical genius; a talent which, although chiefly displayed in poetical composition, is also the foundation (though not precisely in the same manner) of various oth- er Arts. A few remarks on the relation which Imagination bears to some of the most interesting of these, will throw additional light on its nature and office. SECTION II. Of Imagination considered in its Relation to some of the Fine Arts. Among the Arts connected with Imagination, some not only take their rise from this power, but produce objects which are addressed to it. Others take their rise from Imagination, but produce objects which are addressed to the power of Perception. To the latter of these two classes of Arts, belongs lhat of Gardening; or, as it has been lately called, the art of creating Landscape. In this Art, the designer is limited in his creation by nature ; and his only pro- vince is to correct, to improve, and lo adorn. As he cannot repeat his experiments, in order to observe the effect, he must call up, in his ima- gination, the scene which he means to produce ; and apply to this ima- ginary scene his taste and hisjudgment; or, in other words, to a lively conception of visible objects, he must add a power (which long experi- ence and attentive observation alone can give him,) of judging before- hand, of the effect which they would produce if they were actually ex- hibited to his senses. This power forms what Lord Chatham beautifully and expressively called, the Prophetic eye of Taste ; that eye which (if I may borrow the language of Mr. Gray,) " sees all the beauties that a " place is susceptible of, long before they are born ; and when it plants "a seedling, already sits under the shade of it, and enjoys the effect it " will have, from every point of view that lies in the prospect."* But although the artist who creates a landscape, copies it from his imagina- tion, the scene which he exhibits is addressed to the senses, and may produce its full effect on the minds of others, without any effort on their part, either of imagination or of conception. To prevent being misunderstood, it is necessary for me to remark, that, in the last observation, I speak merely of the natural effects pro- duced by a landscape, and abstracted entirely from the pleasure which may result from an accidental association of ideas with a particular scene. The effect resulting from such associations will depend, in a great measure, on the liveliness with which the associated objects are conceived, and on the affecting nature of the pictures which a creative * Ghat's Works, by Mason, p. 277. sect, il] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 239 imagination, when once roused, will present to the mind; but the plea- sures thus arising from the accidental exercise that a landscape may give to the imagination, must not be confounded with those which it is natu- rally fitted to produce. In Painting, (excepting in those instances in which it exhibits a faith- ful copy of a particular object,) the original idea must be formed in the imagination, and, in most cases, the exercise of imagination must concur with perception, before the picture can produce that effect on the mind of the spectator which the artist has in view. Painting, therefore, does not belong entirely to either of the two classes of Arts formerly mention- ed, but has something in common with them both. As far as the Painter aims at copying exactly what he sees, he may be guided mechanically by general rules; and he requires no aid from that creative genius which is characteristical of the Poet. The plea- sure, however, which results from painting, considered merely as an imitative art,is extremely trifling; and is specifically different from that which it aims to produce, by awakenfng.the imagination. Even in por- trait-painting, the servile copyist of nature is regarded in no higher light than that of a tradesman. " Deception," (as Reynolds has excellently observed,) " instead of advancing the art, is, in reality, carrying it back u to its infant state. The first essays of Painting were certainly nothing " but mere imitations of individual objects; and when this amounted " to a deception, the artist had accomplished his purpose."* When the history or the landscape Painter indulges his genius, in forming new combinations of his own, he vies with the Poet in the noblest exertion of the poetical art: and he avails himself of his professional skill, as the Poet avails himself of language, only to convey the ideas in his mind. To deceive the eye by accurate representations of particular forms, is no longer his aim ; but, by the touches of an expressive pencil, to speak to the imaginations of others. Imitation, therefore, is not the end which he proposes to himself, but the means which he employs in order to ac- complish it: nay, if the imitation be carried so far as to preclude all ex- ercise of the spectator's imagination, it will disappoint, in a great meas- ure, the purpose of the artist. In Poetry, and in every other species of composition, in which one person attempts, by means of language, to present to the mind of an- other, the objects of his own imagination, this power is necessary, . though not in the same degree, to the author and to the reader. When we peruse a description, we naturally feel a disposition to form, in our own minds, a distinct picture of what is described ; and in proportion to the attention and interest which the subject excites, the picture be- comes steady and determinate. It is scarcely possible for us to hear much of a particular town, without forming some notion of its figure and size and situation ; and in reading history and poetry, I believe it seldom happens, that we do not annex imaginary appearances to the names of our favourite characters. It is, at the same time, almost cer- tain, that the imaginations of no two men coincide upon such occa- sions; and, therefore, though both may be pleased, the agreeable im- pressions which they feel, may be widely different from each other • Notes on Masoh's Translation of Fbesxoi'i Foem on the Art of Painting, p. 114. 24© ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VII. according as the pictures by which they are produced are more or lew happily imagined. Hence it is, that when a person accustomed l> dra- matic reading sees, for the first time, one of his favourite characters re- presented on the stage, he is generally dissatisfied with the exhibition, however eminent the actor may be; and if he should happen, befor • this representation, to have been familiarly acquainted with the charac- ter, the case may continue to be the same through life. For my own part, I have never received from any Falstafl on (he stage, half the pleasure which Shakspeare .ives me in the closet; and lam persuaded, that I should feel some degree of uneasiness, if I were present at any attempt to personate the figure or the voice of Don Quixote or Sancho Panca. It is not always that the actor, on such occasions, falls sliort of bur expectation. He disappoints us, by exhibiting something different from what our imagination had anticipated, and which consequently appears to us, at the moment, to be an unfaithful representation of the Poet's idea: and until a frequent repetition of the performance has com- pletely obliterated our former impressions, it is impossible for us to form an adequate estimate of its merit. - Similar observations .nay be applied to other subjects. The sight of any natural scene, or of any work of art, provided we have not pre- viously heard of it. coir.monly produces a greater effect, at first, than eVer afterwards : but if, in consequence of a description, we have been led to form a previous notion of it, I apprehend, the effect will be found less pleasing, the first time it is seen, than the second. Although the description should fall short greatly of the reality, yet the disappoint- ment which we feel, on meeting with something different from what we expected, diminishes our satisfaction. The second time we see the scene, the effect of novelty is indeed less than before ; but it is still considera- ble, and the imagination now anticipates nothing which is not realized in the perception. The remarks which have been made, afford a satisfactory reason why so few are to be found who have a genuine relish for the beauties cf poetry. The designs of Kent and of Brown evince in their authors a degree of imagination entirely analogous to that of a descriptive Poet; but when they are once executed, their beauties (excepting those which result from association) meet 'he eye of every spectator. Iu poetry the effect is inconsiderable, unless upon a mind which possesses some de- gree of the author's genius; a mind amply furnished, by its previous habits, with the means of interpreting the language which he employs; and able by its own imagination, to co-operate with the efforts of his art. It has been often remarked, that the general words which express complex ideas, seldom convey precisely the same meaning to different individuals, and that hence arises mu h of the ambiguity of language. The same observation holds, in no inconsiderable degree,..with respect * to the names of sensible objects. When the. words Jiiver, Mountain, Grove, occur iu a description, a person if li\ely conceptions naturally thinks of some particular river, niouitaiu. ui] grove, that have made an impression on his mind ; and what'vy a man of sound judgment, and not destitute of natural sensibility; and ou the other hand, that a cold and common place description may be the means of awakening, in a rich and glowing imagination, a degree of enthusiasm unknown to the author. All the different arts which I have hitherto mentioned as taking their rise from the imagination, have this in common, that their prima- ry object is to please. This observation applies to the art of Poetry no less than to the others; nay, itisthiscircumstance which characterizes Poetry, and distinguishes it from all the other classes of literary compo- sition. The object of the Philosopher is to inform and enlighten man- kind ; that of the Orator, to acquire an ascendant over the will of oth- ers, by bending to his own purposes their judgments their imaginations, and their passions: but the primary and the distinguishing aim of the Poet is to please; and the principal resource which he possesses for this purpose, is by addressing the imagination. Sometimes, indeed, he may seein to encroach on the province of the Philosopher or of the Or- ator; but, in these instances, be only borrows from them the means by which he accomplishes his end. If he attempts to enlighten and to in- form, he addresses the understanding only as a vehicle of pleasure : if he makes an appeal to the passions, it is only to passions which it is pleasing to indulge. The Philosopher, in like manner, in order to ac- complish his end of instruction, may find it expedient, occasionally to amuse the imagination, or to make an appeal to the passions: the Ora- tor may, at one time, state to his hearers a process of reasoning; at an- other, a calm narrative of facts; and, at a third, he may give the reigns to poetical fancy. But still the ultimate end of the Philosopher is to in- struct, and of the Orator to persuade ; and whatever means they make use of, which are not subservient to this purpose, are out of place, and obstruct the effect oftheir labours. The measured composition in which the Poet expresses himself, is only one of the means which he employs to please. As the delight vol. r. , 31 242 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VI. which he conveys to the imagination, is heightened by the other agree- able impressions which he can unite in the mind at the same time; he studies to bestow, upon the medium of communication which he era- ploys, all the various beauties of which it is susceptible. Among these beauties, the harmony of numbers is not the least powerful j for its ef- fect is constant, and does not interfere with any of the other pleasures which language produces. A succession of agreeable perceptions is kept up by the organical effects of words upon the ear; while they in- form the understanding by their perspicuity and precision, or please the imagination by the pictures they snggest, or touch the heart by the as- sociations they awaken. Of all these charms of language the Poet may avail himself; and they are all so many instruments of his art. To the Philosopher and the Orator they may occasionally be of use: and to both they must be constantly so far an object of attention, lhat nothing may occur in their compositions, which may distract the thoughts, by offend- ing either the ear or the taste; but the Poet must not rest satisfied with this negative praise. Pleasure is the end of his art; and the more nu- merous the sources of it which he can open, the greater will be the effect produced by the efforts of his genius. The province of the poet is limited only by the variety of human en- joyments. Whatever is in reality subservient to our happiness, is a source of pleasure, when presented to our conceptions, and may some- times derive from the heightenings of imagination a momentary charm, which we exchange with reluctance for the substantial gratifications of the senses. The province of the painter, and of the statuary, is confin- ed to the imitation of visible objects, and to the exhibition of such intel- lectual and moral qualities, as the human body is fitted to express. In ornamental architecture, and in ornamental gardening, the sole aim of the artist is to give pleasure to the eye, by the beauty or sublimity of material forms. But to the poet all the glories of external nature; all that is amiable or interesting, or respectable in human character; all that excites and engages our benevolent affections; all those truths which make the heart feel itself better and more happy; all these sup- ply materials, out of which he forms and peoples a world of his own, where no inconveniences damp our enjoyments, and where no clouds darken our prospects. That the pleasures of poetry arise chiefly from the agreeable feelings which it conveys to the mind, by awakening the imagination, is a pro- position which may seem too obvious to stand in need of proof- As the ingenious Inquirer, however, into "The Origin of our Ideas of the Sub- lime and Beautiful," has disputed the common notions upon this subject, I shall consider some of the principal arguments by which he has sup- ported his opinion. The leading principle of the theory which I am now to examine is, " that the common effect of poetry is not to raise ideas of things;" or, as I would rather choose to express it, its common effect is not to give exercise to the powers of conception and imagination. That I may not be accused of misrepresentation, I shall state the doctrine at length in the words of the author. " If words have all their possible extent of "power, three effects arise in the mind of the hearer. The first is the •" sound; the second, the picture, or representation of the thing signified sect, ii.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 243 " by the sound ; the third is the affection of the soul, produced by one " or by both of the foregoing. Compounded abstract words, (honour, " justice, liberty, and the like,) produce the first and the last of these ef- " fects but not the second. Simple abstracts are used to signify some " one simple idea, without much adverting to others which may chance " to attend it; as blue, green, hot, cold and the like: these are capa- " ble of effecting all three of the purposes of words; as the aggregate " words, man, castle, horse, &c. are in a yet higher degree. But I am " of opinion, that the most general effect even of these words, does not " arise from their forming pictures of the several things they would re- " present in the imagination; because, on a very dilligent examination of u my own mind, and getting others to consider theirs, I do not find that I. mind, by exciting emotions which we have been accustomed tonsso'iate with particular sounds; without leading the imaginalion to form to it- self any pictures or representations; and his a.-count of the manner in which such word* operate, appears to me satisfactory " Smh word* nre "in reality but more sounds: but they arc sounds, which, bcimj nvcd Qairxo-ixt)—irxi x Xeym iir' trS-ovrtxo-ficv xxi wx9-ovi /3Af*Tf iv Soxiit, xxi iir' e-^iv TiB-ih Tolf xnovoviriv.' in trf ating of abstraction I formerly remarked, lhat the perfection of the philosophical style is to approach as nearly as possible to that spe- cies of language we employ in algebra, and to exclude every expression which has a tendency to divert the attention by exciting the imagina- tion, or to bias the judgment by casual associations. For this purpose the philosopher ought to be sparing in theemploy ment of figurative words, and to convey his notions by general terms which have been accurately defined. To the Orator, on the other hand, when he wishes to prevent the cool exercise of the understanding, it may, on the same account, be frequently useful to delight or to agitate his hearers, by blending with his reasonings the illusions of poetry, or the magical influence of sounds consecrated by popular feelings. A regard to the different ends thus aimed at in Philosophical and in Rhetorical composition, renders the ornaments which are so becoming in the one, inconsistent with good taste and good sense, when adopted in the other. In poetry, as truth and facts are introduced, not for the purpose of information, but to convey pleasure to the mind, nothing offends more, ♦DeSublim. § xv.—Quas Qxirxo-ixf Graeci vocant, nos sane Vitiones appel- lamus ; per quas imagines rerum abseniium ita repraesentantur animo, ut ease • cernere oculis, ac praesentes habere, videamur. Qcihct. Inst. Ora'. vi. 2. sect. II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 245 than those general expressions which form the great instrument of phi- losophical reasoning. The original pleasures, which it is the aim of po- etry to recall to the mind, are all derived from individual objects; and, of consequence, (with a very few exceptions, which il does not belong to rry present subject to enumerate,) the more particular, and the more appropriated its language is, the greater will be the charm it possesses. With respect to the description of the course of the Danube already quoted, I shall not dispute the result of the experiment to be as the au- thor represents it. That words may often be applied to their proper purposes, without our annexing any particular notions lo them, I have formerly shewn at great length; and I admit that the meaning of this description may be so understood. But to be understood, is not the sole object of the poet: his primary object is to please; and the pleasure which he conveys will, in general, be found to be proportioned to the beauty and liveliness of the images which he suggests. In the case of a poet born blind, the effect of poetry must depend on other causes; but whatever opinion we may form on this point, it appears to me im- possible lhat such a poet should receive, even from his own descriptions, the same degree of pleasure, which they may convey to a reader, who is capable of conceiving the scenes which are described. Indeed this instance which Mr. Burke produces in support of his theory, is sufficient of itself lo shew, that the theory cannot be true in the extent in which it is stated. By way of contrast to the description of the Danube, I shall quote a stanza from Gray, which affords a very beautiful example of the two different effects of poetical expression. The pleasure conveyed by the two last lines resolves almost entirely into Mr. Burke's principles ; but great as this pleasure is, how inconsiderable is it in comparison of that arising from the continued and varied exercise which the preceding lines give to the imagination ? " In climes beyond the solar road, " Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam, " The muse has broke the twilight gloom, " To cheer the shivering natives' dull abode. " And oft, beneath the odorous shade, *' Of Chili's boundless forests laid, • She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat, "In loose numbers wildly sweet, " Their feather-cinctur'd chiefs, and dusky loves. " Her track where'er the goddess roves, '• Glory pursue, and generous shame, '•Th' unconquerable mind, and freedom's holy flame." I cannot help remarking further, the effect of the solemn and uniform flow of the verse in this exquisite stanza, in retarding the pronunciation of the reader; so as to arrest his attention to every successive picture, till it has time to produce its proper impression. More of the charm of poetical rhythm arises from this circumstance, than is commonly im- agined. To those who wish to study the theory of poetical expression, no au- thor in our language affords a richer variety of illustrations than the poet last quoted. His merits, in many other respects, are great; but his skill in this particular is more peculiarly conspicuous, flow much he had 216 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [cfiap. Ml. made the principles of this branch of his art an object of study, appears from his letters published by Mr. Mason. I have sometimes thought, that, in the last line of the following pas- sage, he had in view the two different effects of words already describ- ed; the effect of some, in awakening the powers of conception and Im- agination ; and that of others, in exciting associated emotions: " Hark, his hands the lyre explore! " Bright-ey'd Fancy hovering o'er, *' Scatters from her pictur'd urn, " Thoughts, that breathe) and words, that burn."----- SECTION III. Continuation of the same Subject.—Relation of Imagination and of Taste to Genius. From the remarks made in the foregoing Sections, it is obvious, in what manner a person accustomed to analyze and combine his concep- tions, may acquire an idea of beauties superior to any which he has seen realized. It may also be easily inferred, that a habit of forming such intellectual combinations, and of remarking their effects on our own minds, must contribute to refine and to exalt the Taste, to a degree which it never can attain in those men, who study to improve it by the observation and comparison of external objects only. A cultivated Taste, combined with a creative Imagination, constitutes Genius in the Fine Arts. Without taste, imagination could produce on- ly a random analysis and combination of our conceptions; and without imagination, taste would be destitute of the faculty of invention. These two ingredients of genius may be mixed together in all possible propor- tions; and where either is possessed in a degree remarkably exceeding what falls to the ordinary share of mankind, it may compensate in some measure for a deficiency in the other. An uncommonly correct taste,. with little imagination, if it does not produce works which excite admi- ration, produces at least nothing which can offend. An uncommon fer- tility of imagination, even when it offends, excites our wonder by its cre- ative powers; and shews what il could have performed, had its exer- tions been guided by a more perfect model. In the infancy of the Arts, a union of these two powers in the same mind is necessary for the production of every work of genius. Taste, without imagination, is, in such a situation, impossible; for, as there are no monuments of ancient genius on which it can be formed, it must be the result of experiments, which nothing but the imagination of eve- ry individual can enable him to make. Such a taste must necessarily be imperfect, in consequence of the limited experience of which it is the result; but, without imagination, it could not have been acquired even in this imperfect degree. In the progress of the Arts the case comes to be altered. The pro- ductions of genius accumulate to such an extent, that taste may De- formed by a careful study of the works of others; and, as formerly im- agination had served as a necessary foundation for taste, so taste begins sect, iv.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 247 now to invade the province of imagination. The combinations which the latter faculty has been employed in making, during a long succession of ages, approach to infinity; and present such ample materials to a judicious selection, that with a high standard of excellence, continually present lo the thoughts, industry, assisted by the most moderate degree of imagination, will, in time, produce performances, not only more free from faults, but incomparably more powerful in their effects, than the most original efforts of untutored genius, which, guided by an unculti- vated taste, copies after an inferior model of perfection. What Rey- nolds observes of Painting, may be applied to all the other Fine Arts; that," as the Painter, by bringing together in one piece, those beauties, " which are dispersed amongst a great variety of individuals, produces " a figure more beautiful than can be found in nature; so that artist " who can unite in himself the excellences of the various painters, will " approach nearer to perfection than any of his masters."* SECTION IV. Of the Influence of Imagination on Human Character and Happiness. Hitherto we have considered the power of Imagination chiefly as it is connected with the Fine Arts. But it deserves our attention still more on account of its extensive influence on human character and hap- piness. The lower animals, as far as we are able to judge, are entirely occu- pied with the objects oftheir present perceptions: and the case is nearly the same with the inferior orders of our own species. One of the prin- cipal effects which a liberal education produces on the mind, is to ac- custom us to withdraw our attention from the objects of sense, and to di- rect it, at pleasure, to those intellectual combinations which delight the imagination. Even, however, among men of cultivated understandings, this faculty is possessed in very unequal degrees by different individuals : and these differences (whether resulting from original constitution or from early education) lay the foundation of some striking varieties in human character. What we commonly call sensibility, depends in a great measure, on the power of imagination. Point out to two men, any object of com- passion ;—a man, for example, reduced by misfortune from easy cir- cumstances to indigence. The one feels merely in proportion to what he perceives by his senses. The other follows, in imagination, the un- fortunate man to his dwelling, and partakes with him and his family in their domestic distresses. He listens to their conversation, while they re- call to remembrance the flattering prospects they once indulged: the circle of friends they had been forced to leave ; the liberal plans of edu- cation which were begun and interrupted; and pictures out to himself all the various resources which delicacy and pride suggest, to conceal poverty from the world. As he proceeds in the painting, his sensibility increases, and he weeps, not for what he sees, but for what he imagines, It will be said, that it was his sensibility which originally roused his ♦Page 134. 248 ELEMENTS OF THL PHILO^Ul'MY [chap. VI. imagination; and the observation is undoubtedly true ; lut it is equally evident, on the other hand, that the warmth of his imagination increase ■: and prolongs hi> sensibility. This is beautifully illustiated in the Sentimental Journey of Sterne. While engaged in a train of reflections on the State Prions in France the accidental sight of a starling in a cage suggests to him the idea of a captive in his dungeon. He indulges his imagination, "and looks ••' through the twilight of the grated door to take the picture." "I beheld,'' (pays he,) <*• his body half-wasted away with long expec- " tation and confinement, and felt what kind of si-kuess of the heart it "is, which arises from hope deferred. Upon looking nearer, 1 saw him "pale and feverish: in thirty \ears the western breeze had not once "fanned his blood : he had seen no sun, no moon, in all that time, '* nor had ihe voire of friend or kinsman breathed through his .lattice. "----His children----But here my heart began to bleed, and I was " forced logo on with another part of the portrait.'' " He was sitting upon the ground, in the farthest corner of his dun- "geon,on a little straw, which was alternately his chair and bed :— " a little calendar of small stuks was laid at the head, notched all over " with the dismal days and nights he had passed there :—he had one '• of these little sticks in his hand, and with a rusty nail he was etching "another day of misery to add to the heap. As I darkened the little " light he had, he lifted up a hopeless eye towards the dour, then cast it "down—shook his head, and went on with his work of affliction." The foregoing observations may account, in part, for the effect which exhibitions of fictitious distress produce on some persons, who do not discover much sensibility to the distresses of real life. In a Novel or a Tragedy, the picture is completely finished in all its parts; and we are made acquainted not only with every circumstance on which the dis- tress turns, but with the sentiments and feelings of every character with respect to his situation. In real life we see, in general, only de- tached scenes of the Tragedy ; and the impression is slight, unless im- agination finishes the characters, and supplies the incidents that are wanting. It is not only to scenes of distress that imagination increases our sen- sibility. It gives us a double share in the prosperity of other;-, and en- ables us to partake, with a more lively interest, in every fortunate inci- dent that occurs either to individuals or to communities. Even from the productions of the earth, and the vicissitudes of the year, it carries forward our thoughts to the enjoyments they bring to the sensitive crea- tion, and by interesting our benevolent affections in the scenes we be- hold, lends a new charm to the beauties of nature I have often been inclined to think, that the apparent coldness and selfishness of mankind may be traced, in a great measure, to a want of attention and a want of imagination. In the case nf misfortunes which happen to ourselves, or to our near connexions, neither of these powers is necessary to make us acquainted with our situation ; so that we feel, of necessity, the correspondent emotions. But without an uncommon degree of both, it is impossible for any man to comprehend completely the situation of his neighbour, or lo have au idea of a great pait of the distress which exists in the world. If we feel therefore more for our- sect, iv.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 249 selves than for others, the difference is to be ascribed, at least partly, to this ; that in the former case, the facts which are the foundation of our feelings, are more fully before us than they possibly can be in the latter. In order to prevent misapprehensions of my meaning, it is necessary for me to add, that I do not mean to deny that it is a law of our nature, in cases in which there is an interference between our own interest arid that of other men, to give a certain degree of preference to ourselves; even supposing our neighbour's situation to be as completely known to us as our own. I only affirm, that, where this preference becomes blameable and unjust, the effect is to be accounted for partly in the way I mentioned.* One striking proof of this is, the powerful emo- tions which may be occasionally excited in the minds of the most cal- lous, when the attention has once been fixed, and the imagination awa- kened, by eloquent and circumstantial and pathetic description. A very amiable and profound moralist, in the account which he has given of the origin of our sense of justice, has, 1 think, drawn a less pleasing picture of the natural constitution of the human mind, than is agreeable to truth. " To disturb " (says he,) "the happiness of our " neighbour, merely because it stands in the way of our own; to take " from him what is of real use to him, merely because it may be of " equal or of more use to us; or, to indulge, in this manner, at the ex- " pense of other people, the natural preference which every man has " for his own happiness above that of other people, is what no impartial "spectator can go along with. Every man is no doubt, first and " principally recommended to his own care ; and as he is fitter to take "care of himself than of any other person, it is fit and right that it " should be so. Every man, therefore, is much more deeply interested " in whatever immediately concerns himself, than in what s o-.cerus any " other man: and to hear, perhaps, of the death of another person " with whom we have no particular connexion, will give us less con- " cern, will spoil our stomach, or break our rest, much less than a very " insignificant disaster which has befall* n ourselves. But though the "ruin of our neighbour may affect us much less than a very small mis- " fortune of our own, we must not ruin him to prevent that small mis- " fortune, nor even to prevent our own ruin. We must here, as in all "othercases, view ourselves not so much according to that light in " which we may naturally appear to ourselves, as according to that in " which we naturally appear to others.—Though every man may, ac- " cording to the proverb, be the whole world to himself, to the rest of " mankind he is a most insignificant part of it. Though his own hap- " piness may be of more importance to him than lhat of all the world " besides, to every other person it is of no more consequence than that " of any other man. Though it may be true, therefore, that every in- " dividual, in his own breast, naturally prefers himself to all mankind, " yet he dares not look mankind in the face, and avow that he acts ac- " cording to this principle. He feels that in this preference they can " never go along with him, and that how natural soever it may be to " him, it must always appear excessive and extravagant to them— * I say partly; for habits of inattention to the situation of other men undoubt- edly presupposes some defect ii the social affections. vol. r. 32 250 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. VII. " When he views himself in the light in which he is conscious that u others will view him, he sees that to them he is but one of the multi- " tude, in no respect better than any other in it. If he would act so as " that the impartial spectator may enter into the principles of his con- "duct, which is what of all things he has the greatest desire to do, he " must, upon this, as upon all other occasions, humble the arrogance of " his self-love, and bring it down to something which other men can " go along with." I am ready to acknowledge, that there is much truth in this passage; and that a prudential regard to the opinion of others, might teach a man of good sense, without the aid of more amiable motives, to conceal his unreasonable partialities in favour of himself, and to act agreeably to what he conceives to be the sentiments of impartial spectators. But I cannot help thinking, that the fact is much too strongly stated with respect to the natural partiality of self-love, supposing the situation of our neighbours to be as completely presented to our view, as our own must of necessity be. When the Orator wishes to combat the selfish passions of his audience, and lo rouse them to a sense of what they owe to mankind ; what mode of persuasion does nature dictate to him ? Is it to remind them of the importance of the good opinion of the world, and of the necessity, in order to obtain it, of accommodating their con- duct to the sentiments of others, rather than to their own feelings ? Such considerations undoubtedly might, with some men, produce a cer- tain effect, and might lead them to assume the appearance of virtue; but they would never excite a sentiment of indignation at the thought of injustice, or a sudden and involuntary burst of disinterested affection. If the Orator can only succeed in fixing their attention to facts, and in bringing these facts home to their imagination by the power of his elo- quence, he has completely attained his object. No sooner are the facts apprehended, than the benevolent principles of our nature display themselves in all their beauty. The most cautious and timid lose, for a moment, all thought of themselves, and despising every consideration of prudence or of safety, become wholly engrossed with the fortunes of others. Many other facts, which are.commonly alleged as proofs of the ori- ginal selfishness of mankind, may be explained, in part, in a similar way; and may be traced to habits of inattention, or to a want of ima- gination, arising, probably from some fault in early education. What has now been remarked with respect to the social principles, may be applied to all our other passions, excepting those which take their rise from the body. They are commonly strong in proportion lo the warmth and vigour of the imagination. It is, however, extremely curious, that when an imagination, which is naturally phlegmatic, or which, like those of the vulgar, has little ac- tivity from a want of culture, is fairly roused by the descriptions of the Orator or of the Poet, '# is more apt to produce the violence of enthusi- asm, than in minds of a superior order. By giving tnis faculty occa- sional exercise we acquire a great degree of command over it. As we can withdraw the attention at pleasure from objects of sense, and trans- port ourselves into a world of our own, so when we wish to moderate our enthusiasm, we can dismiss the objects of imagination, and return sect, v.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 251 to our ordinary perceptions and occupations. But in a mind to which these intellectual visions are not familiar, and which borrows them com- pletely from the genius of another, imagination, when once excited, be- comes perfectly ungovernable, and produces something like a tempora- ry insanity. Hence the wonderful effects of popular eloquence on the lower orders; effects which are much more remarkable than what it ever produces on men of education. SECTION V. Continuation of the same subject—Inconveniences resulting from an ill-regulated Imagination. It was undoubtedly the intention of Nature, that the objects of per- ception should produce much stronger impressions on the mind than its own operations. And, accordingly, they always do so when proper care has been taken in early life, to exercise the different principles of our constitution. But it is possible, by long habits of solitary reflection, to reverse this order of things, and to weaken the attention to sensible objects to so great a degree, as to leave the conduct almost wholly un- der the influence of imagination. Removed to a distance from society, and from the pursuits of life, when we have been long accustomed to converse with our own thoughts, and have found our activity gratified by intellectual exertions, which afford scope to all our powers and affec- tions, without exposing us to the inconveniences resulting from the bustle of the world, we are apt to contract an unnatural predilection for medi- tation, and to lose all interest in external occurrences. In such a situa- tion too, the mind gradually loses that command, which education, when properly conducted, gives it over the train of its ideas; till at length the most extravagant dreams of imagination acquire as power- ful an influence in exciting all its passions, as if they were realities. A wild and mountainous country, which presents but a limited variety of objects, and these only of such a sort as " awake to solemn thought," has a remarkable effect in cherishing this enthusiasm. When such disorders of the imagination have been long confirmed by habit, the evil may perhaps be beyond a remedy ; but in their inferior degrees, much may be expected from our own efforts; in particular, from mingling gradually in the business and amusements of the world; or, if we have sufficient force of mind for the exertion, from resolutely plunging into those active and interesting and hazardous scenes, which, by compelling us to attend to external circumstances, may weaken the impressions of imagination, and strengthen those produced by realities. The advice of the poet, in these cases, is equally beautiful and just: " Go, soft enthusiast! quit the cypress groves, " Nor to the rivulet's lonely moanings tune " Your sad complaint. Go, seek the cheerful haunts '• Of men, and mingle with the bustling crowd; " Lay schemes for wealth, or power, or fame, the wish " Of nobler minds, and push them night and day. " Or join the caravan in quest of scenes " New to your eyes, and shifting every hour, •' Beyond the Alps, beyond the Appennines. 252 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [duip. VII. " Or, more adventurous, rush into the field " Where war grows hot; and raging through 0>e tky, *' The lofty trumpet swells the madd'tung soul; " And in the hardy camp and toilsome march, " Forget all softer and less manly cares."* The disordered state of mind to which these observations refer is the more interesting, that it is chiefly incident to men of uncommon sensi- bility and genius. It has been often remarked, that there is a connex- ion between genius and melancholy; and there is one sense of the word melancholy, in which the remark is undoubtedly true; a sense which it may be difficult to define, but in which it implies nothing either gloomy or malevolent.-** This, I think, is not only confirmed by far ts, but may be inferred from some principles which were formerly stated on the subject of invention ; for as the disposition now alluded to has a tenden- cy to retard the current of thought, and to collect the attention of the mind, it is peculiarly favourable to the discovery of those profound con- clusions which result from an accurate examination of the less obvious relations among our ideas. From the same principles too may be traced some of the effects which situation and early education produce on the intellectual character. Among the natives of wild and solitary coun- tries we may expect to meet with sublime exertions of poetical imagina- tion and of philosophical research; while those men whose attention has been dissipated from infancy amidst the bustle of the world, and whose current of thought has been trained to yield and accommodate itself, every moment, to the rapid succession of trifles which diversify fashionable life, acquire, without any effort on their part, the intellectual habits which are favourable to gaiety, vivacity, and wit. When a man, under the habitual influence of a warm imagination, is obliged to mingle occasionally in the scenes of real business, he is per- petually in danger of being misled by his own enthusiasm. What we call good sense in the conduct of life, consists chiefly in that temper of mind which enables its possessor to view, at all times, with perfect cool- ness and accuracy, all the various circumstances of his situation ; so that each of them may produce its due impression on him, without any ex- aggeration arising from his own peculiar habits. But to a man of an ill-regulated imagination, external circumstances only serve as hints to excite his own thoughts, and the conduct he pursues has, in general, far less reference to his real situation, than to some imaginary one, in which he conceives himself to be placed: in consequence of which, while he appears to himself to be acting with the most perfect wisdom and consistency, he may frequently exhibit to others all the appearances of folly. Such, pretty nearly, seems to be the idea which the Authorf of the " Reflections on the Character and Writings of Rousseau," has formed of that extraordinary man. " His faculties," we are told, • Armstrong. t At* vi vcttrtf orti v$£trrot yeytixrtv xtfyti, v *«**« •*9 § 2. Absurd as these controversies may now appear, such was the prevailing taste of the twelfth century that they seduced the young and aspiring mind of Abelard from all the other pursuits which Europe then presented to his ambition. " Ut " militaris gor'ise pompam,'' says he, cum heeredi'ate et pn«>rogativa primogeni- " torum meorum fratribus derelinquens, Marts curia; penitus abdicarem, ut Mi- ■• nervaegremioeducarer."—Hist. Calam. Suur. c. i. Among the literary men of this period, none seems to have arisen to such an em- inent superiority above his age, in the liberality of Ins philosophical views, as John of Salisbury, the celebrated friend of archbishop Recket In his youth he had stu- died at Paris under Abelard and other eminent masters, ami had applied himself, with distinguished ardour and success, to the subtile speculations wdich then oc- cupied 'he schools. After a long absence, when his mind was enlarged by mone liberal and u_< ful pursuits, and by an extensive intercourse with the world, he had ihe curiosity to revisit the scene of his earh studies, and to compare his own acquisitions with those of his old companions. The account which he gives of this visit ;s strikingly characteristical, both of the writer and of his age : " Invem i sunt, *■ qui fuerant, et ubi: neque enim ad pa Imam visi sunt procesnisse ad qua>»tioiies " pristinas dirimendas, nequa propositi une ulam unam adjecerant———Exper NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 269 "tus itaquesum, quod liquido colligi potest, quia sicut dialectica alias expedit '« disciphnas, cic, si sola fuerit, jacet exsanguis et sterilis, kcS'—Metalag. lib. ii. cap. 10. The same Author, speaking of the controversy between the Nominalists and the Realists, thus expresses himself: " Quaestionem de generibus et speciebus in qua " laborans mundus jam senuit; in qua plus temporis consumptum est quam in ac- " quirendo et rejendo orbis imperio consumserit Csesarea doinus : plus effusum " pecuniae, quam in omnibus divitiis suis possederit Crcesus. Usee enim tamdiu " multos tenuit, ut cum hoc unum tota vita qusererent, tandem nee istud, nee . .st when tt c subject of " their meditation contains in it complex ideas." L.n ki. b. iv. c. 5. $ 3, 4. *•------ But to return to the consideration of truth. We must, I say, observe " two sorts of propositions, that we are capable of making. " First, mental, wherein the ideas in our understandings are without the use of " words put together or separated by the mind, perceiving oi judging of their "agreement or disagreement. " Secondly, verbal propositions, which are words, the signs of our ideas, put " together or separated in affirmative or negative sentences, &c."—Ibid § 5 " Though the examining and judging of ideas by themselves, thei- names being " quite laid aside, be the best and surest way to clear and distinct knowledge; "yet though the prevailing custom of using sounds for ideas, I think it is verysel- " dom practised. Every one may observe how common it is for names to be " made use of, instead of the ideas themselves, even when men think and reason <■' within their own breasts : especially if the ideas be very complex, and made up «* of a great collection of simple ones. This makes the consideration of words " and propositions so necessary a part of the treatise of knowledge, that it is very " hard to speak intelligibly of the one, without explaining the other. ■*' All the knowledge we have, being only of particular or of general truths, it ii " evident that whatever may be done in the former of these, the latter can never " be well made known, and is very seldom apprehended, but as conceived and ex- " pressed in words." Book iv. c. 6. § 1, 2. From these passages it appears that Locke conceived the use which we make of words in carrying on our reasonings, both with respect to particular and general truths, to be chiefly the effect of custom ; and that the employment of language, however convenient, is not essential to our intellectual operations. His opinion therefore did not coincide with that which I have ascribed to the Nominalists. On the other hand, the following passage shews clearly, how widely bis opinion -NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 271 differed from that of the Realists; and indeed it would have led us to believe that it was the same with Berkeley's, had not the foregoing quotations contained an explicit declaration of the contrary. " To return to the general words, it is plain, by what has been said, that gene- " ral and universal belong not to the real existence of things, but are the inventions " and creatures of the understanding, made by it for its own use, and concern only "signs of general ideas, and are so applicable indifferently to many particular ** things and ideas are general, when they are stt up as the representatives of ma- " ny particular things : but universality belongs not to things themselves, which " are all of them particular in their existence; even those words and ideas which •* in their signification are general. When, therefore, we quit particulars, the ge- " nerals that rest are only creatures of our own making; their general nature " being nothing but the capacity they are put into by the understanding, of signify- ing or representing many particulars. For the signification they have, is no- " thing but a relation that by the mind of man is added to them. Book iii. c. 3, " § 11. On the whole, it is evident, that Mr- Locke was neither completely satisfied with the doctrine of the Nominalists, nor with that of the Realists; and therefore I think it is with good reason, that Dr. Reid has classed him with the Conceptualists. Indeed, Mr. Locke has put this matter beyond all doubt himself; for, in explain- ing the manner in which we conceive universals, he has stated his opinion in the strongest and most paradoxical and most contradictory terms. The ridicule be- stowed on this part of his philosophy by the Author of Martinus Scriblerus, al- though censured for unfairness by Dr. Warburton, is almost justified by some of his expressions. Note (L.) page 103. In a letter from Leibnitz to a Scotch gentleman (Mr. Burnet of Kemney) dated in the year 1697, there is the following passage : " J'ai consider^ avec attention le grand ouvrage du caractere reel, et langage " philosophiquc de Monsieur Wilkins. Je trouve qu'il y a mis une infinitee debel- " les choses, et nous n'avons jamais eu une table de predicamens plus accomplie. " Mais I'application pour les caracteres, et pour ia lar.gue, n'est point conformed " ce qu'on pouvoit et devoit faire. JHvois considers cette matiere avant le livre " de Monsieur Wilkins, quand j'eUois un jeune homme de dix neuf ans, dans mon ■** petit livre de arte combinatoria, et mon opinion est que ces caracteres veritable- " ment reels et philosophiques doivent repondre a l'analyse des pensges. 11 est " vrai que ces caracteres pr£supposeut la veritable philosophic, et ce n'est que " presentement que j'oserios entreprendre de les fabriquer. Les objections de M. " Dalgarus, et de M. Wilkins, contre la methode veritablernent philosophique, ne " sont que pour excuser l'imperfection de leurs essais, et marquent seulement les " difficultes qui les en ont rebutes.'' The letter of which this is a part, was published at the end of A Defence of Dr. Clarke, (which I believe is commonly ascribed to Dr. Gregory Sharpe,) and which was printed at London in 1744. The person mentioned by Leibnitz under the name of M. Dalgarus, was evidently George Delgarno, a native of Aberdeen, and author of a small and very rare book, entitled " Ars Signorum, vulgo character " universalis et lingua pfdlosophica, qua poterunt homines diversissimorum idiomatum, " spatio duarum septimanarum, omnia animi sui seusa, (in rebus familiaribus,_) non " minus intelligibiliter, sive scribendo, sive loquendo, mutuo communicare, quam Unguis "■ popriis vernaculis. Prxterea, hinc etiam poterunt juvenes, philosophies principia, (i etveram logica praxin, citius et facilius multo imbibere, quam ex vulgaribus philo. " sophorum scriptis.'1'' It is very remarkable that this work of Dalgarno is never (at least as far as I re- collect) mentioned by Wilkins; although it appears from a letter of Charles I. pre- fixed to Dalgarno's book, that Wilkins was one of the persons who had recom- mended him to the royal favour. 272 NOTES AND ILLLS'I RATIONS. The treatise de Arte Combinatoria is published in the second volume of Dulcn:i* edition of Leibnitz's works, but it does not appear to me to throw much light on his views with respect to a philosophical language. I must request the indulgence of the reader for adding to the length of this note, by quoting a passage from another performance of Leibnitz; in which he has fat len into a train of thought remarkably similar to that of Mr. Hume and Dr. Camp- bell, in the passages already quoted from them in this section. The performance is entitled, Meditationes de Cognilione, Veritate et Ideis, and is printed in the second volume of Du tens' edition. " Plerumque autem, praeserlim in analysi longiore, non totam simul naturam rei •« intuemur, sed rerum loco signis utimur, quorum explicationem in pracsenti ali- t'qua cogitatione, compendii causa, solemus praetermittero, scientes aut creden- «• tes nos earn habere in patestate : ita cum chihogonum, ten polygonum mille " aequalium laterum cogito, non semper naturam Uteris, et aequalitatis, et millc- ''narii (seu cubi a denario) considero, sed vocabulis istis (quorum sensus obscure "saltern, atque imperfecte menti obversatur) in animo utor, loco idcarum, quas de •' iis habeo, quoniam memini me significationem istorum vocabulorum habere, ex- " plicationem autem nunc judico necessariam non esse; qualem cogitationem "caecam, vel etiam symbolicam appellare soleo, qua et in algebra, et in arithmetic* " utimur, imo fere ubique. Et ccrte cum notia valde composita est, non possumus " omnes ingredientes earn notiones simul cogitare : ubi tamen hoc licet, ve" siltem " in quantum licet cognitionem voco intuitivam. Notionis distinctae primitivx non " alia datur cognitio, quam intuitiva, ut compositarum plerumque cogitatio non " nisi symbolica est. " Ex his jam patet, nos eorum quoque, quae distincte cognoscimus, ideas non " percipere, nisi quatenus cognitatione intuitiva utimur. Et sane contingit, ut nos ■• saepe falso credamus habere in animo ideas rerum, cum falso supponimus aliquos " terminos, quibus utimur, jam a nobis fuisseexplicatos : nee verum aut certe am- " biguitati obnoxium est, quod aiunt aliqui, non posse nos de re aliqua dicere, in- ■f telligendo quod dicimus, quin ejus habeamus ideam. Saepe enim vocabula ista " singula utennque intelligimus, aut nos antea intellixissc meminimus, quia tamen "' hac cogitatione caeca content sumus, et resolutioneni notionum non satis prose - quimur,fit ut lateat nos contradictio quam forte notio composita involvit."' Note (M.) page 112. As the passage quoted in the text is taken from a work which is but little known in this country, I shall subjoin the original. *' Qu'il me soit permis de presenter a ceux qui refusent de croire a ces perfec- " tionnemens successiffs de l'espcce humaine, un exem,*de pris dan9 les sciences oil " la marche de la v6r!tg est la plus sure, ou elle pent etre mesure> avec plus de "precision. Ces veritSs el^mentaires de geometrie et d'astronomic qui avoient '• ele dans l'Inde et dans l'Egypte une doctrine occulte, sur laquelle des prctres "« ambitieux avoient fonde leur empire, eUoicnt dans la Grece, au temps d'Archi- " mede ou d'Hipparque, des connoissances vulgaires enseign€es dans les Gcoles 14 communes. Dans le siecle dernier, il suffisoit de quelqnes annees d'etude pour '* savoir tout ce qu'Archimede et Hipparque avoient pu connoitre ; et aujourd'hui "deux ann€es de l'enseignement d'un professeur vont au-dela de ce que aavoient " Leibnitz ou Newton. Qu'on medite cet exemple, qu'on saisisse cette chaine qui ■' s'etend d'un pretre de Memphis a Euler, et remplit la distance immense qui les "sep?re ; qu'on observe a chaque gpoque le genie devan^ant le siecle present, el " la mediocrite atteignant a ce qu'il avoit decouvert dans celui qui prfceedoit, on " apprendra que la nature nous a donne les moyens d'epargner le temps et de mi:- " nager l'attention, et qu'il n'existe aucune raison de croire que ces moyens puissent " avoir un terme. On verra qu'au moment ou une multitude de solutions particu- '• lieres, de faits isole's commencent a §puiser 1'atiention, a fatiguer la memoire, "ces theories dispersees viennent seperdre dans une mSthode gengrale, tous lea "faits se reunir dans un fait unique, et que ces generalisations, ces reunions r*- " petges n'ont, comme les multiplications successives d'un nombre par lui-meme, '•d'autre limite qu'un infini auquel il est impossible d'atteindre.*'—Sur PIrutruc- '•' tion pubtique, par M. Condorcet. notes and illustrations. 273 Continuation of Note (M.) (Second Edition.) How much is it to be regretted, that a doctrine so pleasing, and, at the same *ime so philosophical, should have been disgraced by what has been since written by Condorcet and others, concerning the Perfectibility of Man, and its probable effect in banishing from the earth, Vice, Disease, and Mortality ! Surely they who can reconcile their minds to such a Creed, might be expected to treat with some indulgence the credulity of the multitude. Nor is it candid to complain of the slow progress of Truth, when it is blended with similar extravagancies in Philo- sophical Systems. While, however, we reject these absurdities, so completely contradicted by the whole analogy of human affairs, we ought to guard with no less caution against another Creed, much more prevalent in the present times ;—a Creed, which taking for granted that all things are governed by chance or by a blind destiny, overlooks the beneficent arrangement made by Providence for the advancement and for the diffusion of useful knowledge; and, in defiance both of the moral sug- gestions and of the universal experience of mankind, treats with ridicule the sup- posed tendency of truth and justice to prevail finally over falsehood and iniquity. II" the doctrine which encourages these favourable prospects of the future fortunes of our race, leads, when carried to an extreme, to paradox and inconsistency; the system which represents this doctrine, even when stated with due limitations as altogether groundless and visionary, leads, by a short and inevitable process, to the conclusions either of the Atheist or of the Manichaean. In the midst, indeed, of such scenes of violence and anarchy as Europe has lately witnessed, it is not always easy for the wisest and best of men to remain faithful to their principles and their hopes : But what must be the opinions and the views of those, who, du- ring these storms and convulsions of the Moral World, find at once, in the appa- rent retrogradation of Human Reason, the gratification of their Political Ambition, iiid the secret triumph of their Sceptical Theories ?----- Fond, impious Man ! Think'st ihou yon sanguine Cloud, Rh'is'iJ by thy brealh, hm queneh'd the Orb of Day ? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood, And warms ihe Nations with redoubled ray. Note (N. page 125. It may be proper to remark, that under the title of Oeconomists, I comprehend not merely the disciples of Quesnai, but all those writers in Fiance, who about the same time with him, began to speculate about the natural order of political socie- ties ; or in other words, about that order which a political society would of itself gradually assume, on the supposition that law had no other object than to protect completely the natural rights of individuals, and left every man at liberty to pur- sue bis own interest in his own way, as long as he abstained from violating the rights of others. The connexion between this natural order and the improvement of mankind, has been more insisted on by the biographers of Turgot than by any other authors; and the imperfect hinvs which they have given of the views of that truly great man upon this imporfcint subject, leave us much room to regret lhat he had not leisure to execute a work, which he appears to have long med- itated, on the principles of moral and political philosophy. Vie de M. Tuwgot. Partie ii. p. 53. It is merely for want of a more convenient cxontssion that I have distinguished these different writers by the title of Oeconomists. It .& in this i xten ivt sense that the word is commonly understood in tins country ybut lam sensible thaf tis somewhat ambiguous, and '.hat, withou* the explanation which I have given, soire of my observations might have been supposed to imply a higher admiration than I really entertain of the writings ot M. Quesnai, and of the affected phraseology employed by his sect. vol. i. 35 271 t\OTKS AND ILLUbTR\ TlOVS. The connexion between M. Turgot and M. Quesnai, and the coincidence oftheir opinions about the most essential principles of legislation, will I hope iuttify me for rankjng the former with the Oeconomists ; although his views seem to have been much more enlarged than those of his contemporariei; and although he ixpixaily disclaimed an implicit acquiescence in the opinions of any particular sect " M. Turgot c.udia la doctrine de M. Gournay et de Si. Quesnai, en prolita, §c ' la rendit propre; et la combinant avec la connoissance qu'il avoit du Droit, et " avec le grandes vues de legislation civile tt ci ininelle qui avoient occup* sa •* teteet interesse" son cocur, parvint a en former sur legouvernemtnt des nations " un corps de principes a lui, embrassant les deux autrcs, et plus complet en- " core." Me'moires sur la Vie et hs Ottvrages de M. Tcitiior, par M. Dvposr.p. 40,41. *' 11 a passe pour avoir eie" attache aplusieurs scctes, ou a plusieurs socicto qu'on " appelait ainsi; et les amis qu'il avait dans ces socicHes diverse* lui rcprochaient " sans cesse de n, etre pas de leur avis; et sans ccsse il leur reprochaitde son " cote d^ vouloir faire communaute* d'opinions, et dc se rendre sclidaires les uns '■' pour les autres. II croyait cette marche propre a retarder les progrSj memes ** de leurs decouverts."—Ibid. p. 41, 42. Note (O.) page 171. The foregoing observations on the state of the mind in sleep, and on the phe- nomena of dreaming, were written as long ago as the year 1772; and were read (nearly in the form in which they are now published) in the year 1773, in a private literary society in this university. A considerable number of years afterwards, at a time when I was occupied with very different pursuits, I happened, in turning over an old volume of the Scots Magazine (the volume for the year 1749,) to meet with a short essay on the same subject, which surprised me by its coincidence with some ideas which had formerly occurred to me. 1 have reason lo believe that this es- say is very little known, as 1 have never seen it referred to by any of the numerous writers who have since treated of the human mind; nor have even heard it once mentioned in conversation. 1 had some time ago the satisfaction to learn acciden- tally, that the author was Mr. Thomas Melville, a gentleman who died at the ear- ly age of 27; and whose ingenious observations on l;ght and colours (published in the Essays of the Edinburgh Philosophical Society) are well known over Europe. The passages which coincide the most remarkably with the doctrine I have sta- ted, are the following. 1 quote the first with particular pleasure, on account of the support which it gives to an opinion which I formerly proposed in the essay on Conception, and on which I have the misfortune to differ from some of my friends. " When I am walking up the High-street of Edinburgh, the objects which strike " my eyes and ears give me an idea of their presence; a'id this idea is lively, full, " and permanent, as arising from the continued operation of light and sound on the " organs of sense. " Again, when I am absent from Edinburgh, but conceiving or imugining myself " to walk up the High-street; in relating, perhaps, what befel me on such an " occasion, I have likewise in my mind an idea of what is usully seen and heard '• in the High-street; and this idea of imagination is entirely similar to those of " sensation, though not so strong and durable. •• In this last instance, while the imagination lasts, be it ever so short, it is evi- " det\t that I think myself in the street of Edinburgh, as truly as when I dream I " am there, or even when I see and feel I am there. It is true, we cannot so well "apply the word belief in fils case; because the perception is not clear or •' steady, being ever disturbed, and soon dissipated, by the superior strength of " intruding sensation : yet nothing can be more absurd than to say, that a man may, •; in the same individual instant, believe he is in one place, and imagine he is m •' another. No man can demonstrate that the objects of sense exist without him ; "we are conscious of nothing but our own sensations: however, by the uni- " formity, regularity, consistency, and steadiness of the impression, we are led NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 275 " to believe, that they have a real and durable cause without us ; and we observe " not any thing which contradicts this opinion. But the ideas of imagination, " being transient and fleeting, can beget no such opinion, or habitual belief; "though there is as much perceived in this case as the former, namely an idea '' of the object within the mind. It will be easily understood, that all this is " intended to obviate an objection that might be brought against the similarity of " dreaming and imagination, from our believing in sleep that all is real. But " there is one fact, that plainly sets them both on a parallel, that in steep we often " recollect that the scenes which we behold are a mere dream, in the same man- " ner as a person awake is habitually convinced that the representations of his " imagination are fictitious." ——" In this essay we make no inquiry into the state of the body in sleep." ----" If the operations of the mind in sleep can be fairly deduced from the same " causes as its operations when awake, we are certainly advanced one considerable " step though the causes of these latter should be still unknown. The doctrine " of gravitation, which is the most wonderful and extensive discovery in the whole " compass of human science, leaves the descent of heavy bodies as great a myste- " ry as ever. In philosophy, as in geometry, the whole art of investigation lies in " reducing things that are difficult, intricate, and remote, to what is simpler and " easier of access, by pursuing and extending the analogies of nature." On looking over the same essay, I find an observation which I stated as my own in page 78 of this work. " The mere imagination of a tender scene in a romance, " or drama, will draw tears from the eyes of those who know very well, when they •• recollect themselves, that the whole is fictitious. In the mean time they must " conceive it as real ; and from this supposed reality arises all its influence on the " human mind.*' Continuation ofNote (O.) (Second Edition.) Soon after the publication of the First Edition of this Work, a difficulty was started to me with respect to my conclusions, concerning the state of the mind in sleep, by my excellent friend Mr. Prevost of Geneva ; a gentleman who has long held a high rank in the republic of letters, and to whose valuable correspon- dence I have often been indebted for much pleasure and instruction. The same difficulty was proposed to me, nearly about the same time, by another friend (then at a very early period of life,) who has since honourably distinguished himself by his observations on Dr. Darwin's Zoonomia; the first fruits of a philosophical ge- nius, which, I trust, is destined for yet more important undertakings.* As Mr. Prevost has, in the present instance, kindly aided me in the task of re- moving his own objection, I shall take the liberty to borrow his words : " Sans Paction de la Volont£ point d'effbrt d'attention. Sans quelque effort " d'attention point de Souvenir. Dans le Sommeil, Paction dela Volonte est sus- 14 pendue. Comment done reste-t-il quelque Souvenir des Songes ? " Je vois bien deux ou trois reponses a cette difficulty. Quant a present, elles ■' se reduisent a dire, ou que dans un Sommeil parfait, il n'y a nul Souvenir, et '« que la ou it y a Souvenir, le Sommeil n'etoit pas parfait ; ou que Paction de " la Votont§ qui suffit pour le Souvenir n'est pas suspendue dans le Sommeil ; que " ce degr6 d'activite reste a l'ame ; que ce n'est, pour ainsi dire, qu'une Volente " ele.nentairg et comme insensible." I am abundantly sensible of the force of this objection ; and am far from being satisfied, that it is in my power to reconcile completely the apparent inconsistency. The general conclusions, at the same time, to which I have been led, seem to re- sult so necessasily from the facts I have stated, that even although the difficulty in question should remain for the present unsolved, it would not, in my opinion, materially affect the evidence on which they rest. In all our enquiries, it is of consequence to remember, that when we have at once arrived at a general princi- ple by a careful indudion, we are not entitled to reject it, because we may find ourselves unable to explain from it, synthetically, all the phenomena in which it is concerned. The Newtonian Theory of the Tides is not the less certain, that some apparent exceptions occur to it, of which it is not easy (in consequence of our im- * Observations on the Zoonomia of Dr. Darwin. By Thomas Brown, E«. Edin- burgh, 1799. 276 NOTES AND IL1.CSTRATION?. perfect knowledge of the local circumstances by which, in particular casci, i'• effect is moiltfied) to give a satisfactory explanation. Of the solutions suggested by Mr. Provost, the first coincides most nenrlv with my own opinion ; and it approaches to what ! haw-hinted (in page 76 of thm work) concerning 'he seeming exceptions to my doctrine, which may occur in those cases where sleep is partial A strong confirmation ot it, undoubtedly, may be derived from the experience of those persons (several of whom I have happened to meet with) who never recollect to have dreamed, excepting when the sound. ness of their sleep was disturbed by some deranpement in their general health, or by some accident which excited a bodily sensation. Another solution of the difficulty might perhaps be derived from the facts (sta- ted in page 57 of this volume) which prove, •' that a perception, or an idea, which •* passes through the mind, without leaving any trace in the memory, may yet " serve to introduce other ideas connected with it by the Laws of Association." From this principle it follows, that if any one of the more remarkable circum- stances in a dream should recur to us after we awake, it might (without our exert- ing during sleep that attention which is essential to memory) revive the same con- catenation of particulars with which it was formerly accompanied. And what i.i a dream, but such a concatenation of seeming events presenting itself to the ima- gination during our waking hours ; the origin of which we learn by experience to refer to thai interval which is employed in sleep ;—finding it impossible to connect it with any specific time or place in our past history ? One thing is certain, that we cannot, by any direct acts of recollection, recover.the train of our sleepmg thoughts, as we can, in an evening, review the meditations of the preceding day. Another cause, it must be owned, presents an obstacle to such efforts of recol- lection ; and is, perhaps, adequate of itself to explain the fact. During the day we have many aids to memory which are wanting in sleep (those, in particular, which are furnished by the objects of our external senses ;) and cf these aids we never fail to avail ourselves, in attempting to recollect the thoughts in which the day has been spent. We consider, in what flack we were at a particular time, and what persons and things we (here saw ; endeavouring thus to lay hold of our intellectual processes, by means of the sensible objects with which they are asso- ciated : and yet, with all these advantages, the accour.t which most mm are able to give oftheir meditations at the close of a long summer's day, will not be found to require many sentences. As in sleep, our communication with the external world is completely interrupted, it is not surprising, that the memory of our dreams should be much more imperfect than that of our wuking thoughts ; even supposing us to bestow, at the moment, an equal degree of attention on both. It is of more importance to remark, in the present argument, that those persons who are subjecito Somnambulism, seldom, if ever, retain any recollection of the ob- jects of their perceptions, while under the influence of this disorder. If the prin- ciples lhave endeavoured to establish be just, this is a necessary consequence of their inattention to what then p.isscs around them ; an inattention of which nobo- dy c.n doubi, who has bad an opportunity of wilnes>ing the vacant and un- conscious stare which their eyes exhibit. The same fact illusirates strongly the suspension, during hleep, of those voluntary powers to which the operations both of mind and body are at other times subjected. These considerations derive additional evidence from a common temark, that idle people are most apt to dream, or, at least, to rc-co lect their dreams. The thoughts of the busy and of the studious are directed by their habitual occupation! into a particular channel; and the spontaneous course of their ideas is checked, and turned aside, by the unremitted activity oftheir minds. In the heedless and dissipated, the liioughts wander carelessly trom object to object, according to the obvious relations oi reseT.bl. nee and of analogy, or of vicinity in place and time. As these are the prevailing principles of association in sleep, the chances that the dreams of such men shall be again presented to them m the course of the follow- ing day, are n fin'ut-Jy multiplied. W.i.eh of these resolutions approaches most nearly to_the real state of the fact, I do not presume to decide. I think it probable, that both of them are entitled tanotice, in comparing the phenomena of dreaming with the general principles!' which I have endeavoured to refer them. In cases where our dreams are occa- sioned by bodily sensations, or by bodily indisposition, it may be expected that NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 277 the disturbed state of our rest will prevent that total cessation of the power of attention, which takes place when sleep is profound and complete ; and, in such instmc-es, the attention which is given to our passing thoughts, may enable us af- terwards to retrace them by an act oi recollection. On the other hand, the more general fact unquestionably is, that at the moment of our awaking, the interval spent in sleep presents a total blank to the memory; and yet, it happens not un- frequeutly, that, at the distance of hours, some accidental circumstances occur- ring to our thoughts, or suggested to us from without, revives a long train of par- ticulars associated in the mind with each other; to which train (notbeing able to account otherwise for the concatenation of its parts) we give the name of a Dream. After all, I am very far from supposing that I have exhausted this subject; and I shall be fully satisfied with the success of my inquiries, if those who are qualifi- ed to distinguish between legitimate and hypothetical theories shall admit, that I have pointed out the plan on which these phenomona should be studied, and have made some progress, (how small soever) towards its execution. Much ad- ditional light, I am sensible, might have been easily thrown on this part of our constitution, as.well as upon many others, if I had not imposed on myself the re- straint of adhering, wherever it was at all possible, to the modes of speaking em- ployed by my predecessors in describing our mental operations. One remark I must beg leave to recommend to the consideration of those who may hereafter engage in this research; that among the astonishing appearances exhibited by the mind in sleep, a very large proporuon are precisely analagous to those of which we are every moment conscious while awake. If the exciting cau- ses, for example, of our Dreams seem mysterious and inscrutable, is not the fact the same with the origin of every idea or thought which spontaneously solicits our notice ? The only difference is that in the latter instance, in consequence of long and constant familiarity, they are surveyed by all With little wonder, and by most with hardly any attention. In the former instance, they rouse the curiosity of the most illiterate, from their comparative infrequency, and from the contrast which, in some respects, they present to the results of our habitual experience.----It h thus, that a peasant who has been accustomed from his infancy to see, without any emotion, the fall of heavy bodies to the ground, never fails to express the liveliest admiration when he first witnesses the powers of the loadstone. In such cases, the researches of genuine science have a tendency to produce two moral effects equally beneficial. The one is to illustrate the unity of design in na- ture, by reconciling what seems, from its rarity or singularity, to be mysterious or incomprehensible, with the general laws which are familiarized to us by daily experience ; the other, to counteract the effects of familiarity in blunting our na- tural curiosity with respect to these laws, by leading the thoughts to some oftheir more curious and apparently anomalous applications. The phenomena of Dreaming may perhaps, in this last p-.int of view, form an article not altogether useless in the Natural History of man ; in as much as they contribute to attract our attention to those intellectual powers, from which it is so apt to be withdrawn by t'.iat external world, which affords the first, and (for the com- mon purposes of life) the most interesting field for their exercise. In my own case, at least, this supposition has been exactly verified ; as the speculations concerning the human mind which I have ventured to present to the public, all took their rise from ihe subject to which this note refers. The observations which I have stated with respect to it in the text (excepting a very few paragraphs since added) were written at the age of eighteen, and formed a part of the first philosophical essay which I recollect to have attempted. The same essay contained the substance of what I have introduced in chapter third, concerning the belief accompanying con- ception; and of the remarks stated in the 3d section of chapter fifth, on the extent of the power which the mind has over the train of its thoughts. When I was af- terwards led professionally, at tie distance of many years to resume the same stu- dies, this short manuscript was almost the only memorial I bad preserved of these favourite pursuits of my early youth ; and from the views which it recalled to me, insensibly arose the Anylysis 1 have since undertaken of our intellectual faculties in general. 278 NOTES AND ILLl S TRY IIONS. For some indulgence to the egotism of this note, I must trust to the good nature of my readers. It has been lengthened much beyond my original inieivion, hv an anxiety (not, I hope, unpardonable in an Author) to fix the date ot some'of my disquisitions and conclusions, of which it is highly probable I may magniiy the importance beyond their just value. The s tuation of a public teacher, (I mu»l beg have to add,) by giving an immediate circulation to the doctrine* he delivers, exposes bim to many inconveniences which other classes of literary men have in their power to avoid. Be'bre concluding these remarks, I cannot help reminding my readers once more, that my fundamental principle with respect to the state of the mind in sleep is,—not, that the po-wer of volition is then suspended ; but, lhat the influence of the •anil over the faculties both of mind and body is then interrupted. (Sie pp. 184, 185,186, 187.) 1 mention this chiefly, in order to mark the difference between my doctrine and that maintained in Dr. Darwin's Zoonomia. According to this ingen. ious writer, " the power of volition is totally suspended in perfect sleep." (Zoono- mia, vol. i. p. 315.)—" In the Incubus," (he observes,) " the desire of moving the " body is painfully exerted ; but the fmuer of moving it, or volition, is incapable of action till we awake."—(p. 288.) Would he not have stated ihe fact more cor. rectly, if he had said, that volition is painfully exerted ; but that the power of mo- ving the body is suspended ? In the very accurate phraseology of Mr. Locke, " vo. '■'litim is an act of the mind, knowingly exerting lhat oominion it takes itself to " have over any pan of the man, by employing it in, or withholding it from any " particular action.'' This act of the mind, Dr. Darwin expresses by the word desire.- an indistinctness still extremely common among metaphysical writers ; although it was long ago remarked antLxjensured by the eminent author just quot- ed : "I find," (says Locke,) '* the roill often confounded wiih desire, and one put " for the other; and that by men, who would not willingly be thought not to have " very distinct notions of things, and not to have written very clearly about thtm." (Essay on Human Understanding, vol. i. p. 203, 13th edition.) (Note (P.) page 172. Dr. Reid has, with great truth, observed, that Des Cartes' reasonings against the existence of the secondary qualities of matter, owe all their plausibility to the am- biguity of words.—When he affirms, for example, that the smell of a rose is not in the flower but in the mind, his proposition amounts only to this, 'hat the rose is nut conscious of the sensation of smell: but it does not follow fron. Des Cartes' rea- sonings, that there is no quality in the rose which excites the .sensnton of smell in the mind;—which is all that am person means when be speaks of the smell of that flower. For the word smell, like the names of all secondary qualities signifies two things, a sensation in the mind, and the unknown quality wnich fits it to excite that sensation.* The same remark applies to diat process of reasoning by which Des Cartes attempts to prove lhat there is no heat in the fire. All this 1 think will be readily allowed with respect lo smells and tastes, and also with respect to heat and qold; concerning which I agree with Dr. Reid, in think- ing that Des Cartes' doctrine, when cleared f that air of mysery which it derives from the ambiguity of words, differs very little, if at all, from the com- monly received notions. But the case seem-> to be different with respect to colours of the nature of which the vulgar are apt to form a very confused conception, which the philosophy of Des Cartes has a tendency to correct. Dr. Reid has just- ly distinguished the quality of colour from what he calls the appearance of colour, * Some judicious remarks on this ambiguity in ihe names of secondary qualities are made by Mallet>ranche. " It is only (says he) since ihe time of Des Cartes, that those confused and indeterminate question', whether fire is bnt, ^rass green, and sugar meet, philosophers are in u>e to an- swer, by distinguish njj the equivocal meaning ol the word^ expres>in<; tendhle qualms. If by hea',cold, and savuur, you understand such and such a disposition of pans, or some un- known motion of insensible p.i.' ic!e-, then fite is hot, £iBt' £ie«r, and sogur s»eel. Bol if by heat and other qualities you understand whai 1 feel by fire, wh«l I see in gr»«s, 4w. fire is r.jt bot, nn grass j^reen ; lor the heat 1 feel, and the co louts I see,are only in ihe soil." NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 279 which last can only exist in a mind.* Now I am disposed to believe, that when the vulgar speak of colour, they commonly mean the appearance of colour; or rather they associate the appearance and its cause so intimately together, that they find it impossible to think of them separately .f The sensation of colour never forms one simple object of attention to the mind like those of smell and taste! but every time we are conscious of it, we perceive at the same time extension and figure. Hence it is, that we find it impossible to conceive colour without ex- tension, though certainly there is no more necessary connexion between them, than between extension and smell. From this habit of associating the two together, we are led also to assign them the same place, and to conceive the different colours, or (to use Dr. Reid's lan- guage) the appearance of the different colours, as something spread over the sur- faces of bodies. I own that when we reflect on the subject with attention, we find this conception to be indistinct, and see clearly that the appearance of colour can exist only in the mind: but still it is some confused notion of this sort, which every man is disposed to form who has not been very familiarly conversant with philosophical enquiries.—I find, at least, that such is the notion which most readi- ly presents itself to my own mind. Nor is this reference of the sensation, ot> appearance of colour, to an external object, a fact altogether singular in our constitution. It is extremely analogous to the references which we always make, of the sensations of touch to those parts of the body, where the exciting causes of the sensations exist—If I strike my hand against a hard object, I naturally say that I feel pain in my hand. The philosophi- cal truth is, that I perceive the cause of the pain to be applied to that part of my body. The sensation itself I cannot refer in point of place to the hand, without conceiving the soul to be spread over the body by diffusion. A sTill more striking analogy to the fact under our consideration, occurs in those sensations of touch which we refer to a place beyond the limits of the body ; as in the case of pain felt in an amputated limb. The very intimate combination to which the foregoing observations on the sen- sation of colour relate, is taken notice of by D'Alembert in the Encyclopidie, as one of the most curious phenomena of the human mind. •• II est ties eVident que le mot couleur ne designe aucune propriSte du corps, " mais seulement une modification de notre ame; que la blancheur, par exemple, " la rongeur,&c. 8tc. n'existent que dans nous, et nullement dans les corps auxquels •* nous les rapportons ; neanmoius par une habitude prise des notre enfance, e'est " une chose tres singuhere et digne de l'attention des metaphysiciens, que ce " penchant que nous avons a rapporter a une substance materielle etdevisible, ce "qui appartient reellement a une substance spirituelle et simple; et rien n'est " peut etre plus extraordinaire dans les operations de notre ame, que de la voir " transporter hors d'elle meme et etendre, pour ainsi dire, ses sensations sur une " substance a laquelle elles ne peuvent appartenir." * D;. Akens'ule, in one of his Notes on his Plra«ures of Imagination, observes, lhat colours, as apprehended by the mmd,do noi exi^t in the body. By this qualification, he plain- ly means to distinguish whai Dr. Keid calls the appearance ol colour, liom colour considered ai> a quality ol matter. t Dr. Reid u of opinion, lhat the vulgar always mean lo express by the word colour, a quality and not 11 sensation "Colour (says he) differs fioin other secondary qualities in llil', dial wheieas ihe name of ihe quality is soineiiines given to ihe sensation which indi- cate! it, and is occasioned by it, we neve', as fiir as I Chn judge, give the name of colour to ihe sensation, Hut to the quality only " This question is of no consequence for us todiscuss at present, hs I)i. Reid acknowledges in ihe following passage, that ihe sensation and quality are so intimately united together in (he mind, that they seem to loi m only one simple object of thought. *' U hen we think or speuk ot any particular colour, however simple the notion may seem lo be which :s pivf.-nied to the iuineinaiion, it is teally in some son compounded j it involves au unknown can*e and a known effect, 'the name of cotour belongs indeed to the cause only, and noi to ihe effect. But as the cause is unknown, we can form no distinct con- ception ol it, bill by its relation i» ihe known effect. And therefore both go together in the imagination, and are so closely united that tuey are mistaken for one simple object of ✓ thought." Inquiry into tfie Human Mind, chap. vi. sect. 4. 280 NOTES AND 1LLI STRATION>. From the following passage in Condillac's Trait t des Sensations, it appears tha' the phenomenon here remarked by D'.Vlembcrt, was, in Condillar's opinion, tht natural and obvious effect of an early and habitual association of ideal. I quote it with the greater pleasure, that it contains the happiest illustration I have seen of the doctrine which I have been attempting to explain. "On pourroit farie une supposition, ou Podorat apprendroit a jtiger pnrfaite- " ment des grandeurs, des figures, des situations, et des distances. II suffiroit d'un " cote de soumetlre les corpuscules odoriftrans aux loix dc la dtoptrque, ^* o^vrtu suriJreAijs " TTpoitfiticv, &c. Et quidem gravitas fit si ex inferiore parte (gutturis) spi- r ritus sursum feratur, acumen vero, si per sumtnam partem prorumpat; (as Meibo- mius translates it in his notes.) See Smith's Harmonics, p. 3. Dr. Beattie, in his ingenious Essay on Poetry and Music, says, it is probable that the deepest or gravest sound was called summa by the Romans, and the shrillest or acutest inia: and he conjectures, that "this might have been owing to the con- '• struction oftheir instruments; the string that sounded the former being perhaps '• highest in place, and that which sounded the latter lowest." If this conjecture could be verified, it would afford a proof from the fact, how liable the mind is t» be influenced in this respect by casual combinations. Note (R.) page 194. The difference between the effects of association and of imagination, (in the sense in which I employ these words,) in heightening the ple.wiie or the pain produced on the mind by external objects, will appear from the following re- maiks: t . • 1. As far as the association of ideas operates in heightening pleasure or pa.n, the mind is passive : and accordingly where suc'u associations are a source of in- convenience, they are seldom to be cured by an effort of our volition, or even by reasoning; but by the gradual formation of contrary associations. Imagination is ;ui active exertion of the mind ; and although it may often be difficult to restrain it, it is plainly distinguishable in theory from the associations now mentioned. 2. In every case in which the association of ideas operates, it is implied that some pleasure or pain is recalled which was felt by the mind before. I visit for example, a scene where I have been once h-ppy ; and the sight of it affects me. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 281 on that account, with a degree of pleasure, which I should not have received from any other scene equally beautiful. I shall not inquire, whether, in such cases, the associated pleasure arises immediately upon the sight of the object, and with- out the intervention of any train of thought ; or whether it is produced by the re- collection and conception of former occurrences which the perception recalls. On neither supposition does it imply the exercise of that creative power of the mind to which we have given the name of imagination. It is true, that commonly, on such occasions, imagination is busy ; and our pleasure is much heightened by the colouring which she gives to the objects of memory. But the difference between the effects which arise from the operation of this faculty, and those which result from association, is not, on that account, the less real. The influence of imagination on happiness is chiefly felt by cultivated minds. That of association extends to all ranks of men, and furnishes the chief instru- ment of education ; in so much that whoever has the regulation of the associa- tions of another from early infancy, is to a great degree, the arbiter ot his happi- ness oi misery. . . Some very ingenious writers have employed the word Association in so exten- sive a sense, as to comprehend, not only imagination, but all the other faculties of the mind. Wherever the pleasing or the painful effect of an object does not depend solely on the object itself, but arises either wholly or in part from some mental operation to which the perception of it gives rise, the effect is referred to association. And, undoubtedly, this language may be employed with propriety, if the word Association be applied to all the ideas and feelings which may arise in the mind, in consequence of the exercise which the sight of the object may give to the imagination, to the reasoning powers, and to the other principles of our nature. Bnt in this work, and particularly in the second part of chap. v. I employ the word Association in a much more limited sense; to express the effect which an object derives from ideas or from feelings which it does not necessarily sug- gest, but which it uniformly recalls to the mind, in consequence of early and long continued habits. Note (S.) page 202. The following passage from Malebranche will be a sufficient specimen of the common theories with respect to Memory. . " In order to give an explanation of memory, it should be called to mind, that " all our different perceptions are affixed to the changes which happen to the " fibres of the principal parts of the brain, wherein the soul particularly resides. " This supposition being laid down, the nature of the memory is explained ; for " as the branches of a tree, which have continued for some time bent after apar- " ticular manner, preserve a readiness and facility of being bent afresh in the " same manner ; so the fibres of the brain, having once received certain impress- "ions from the current of the animal spirits, and from the action of the objects «• upon them, retain for a considerable time some facility of receiving the same «' dispositions. Now the memory consists only in that promptness or facility ; " since a man thinks upon the same things, whenever the brain receives the same " impressions." * . " The most considerable difference," says the same author in another passage, " that are found in one and the same person, during his whole life, are in his in. «' fancy, in his maturity, and in his old age. The fibres in the brain in a man's " childhood are soft, flexible, and delicate ; a riper age dries, hardens, and cor- » roborates them ; but in old age they grow altogether inflexible, gross, and inter- " mixed with superfluous humours, which the faint and languishing heat of that " age is no longer able to disperse ; for as we see that the fibres which compose « the flesh, harden bv time, and that the flesh of a young partridge is without dis- " pute more tender than that of an old one, so the fibres of the brain of a child. '<■ or a young person, must be more soft and delicate than those of persons more " advanced in years." * Book ii. chap. 5, (Page 54 of Taylor's Trans!.) VOL. I. 36 282 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. * We shall understand the ground and the occasion of these change*, if we " consider that the fibres are continually agitated by tie animal (pints, which " whirl about them in many different manners : for as the winds parch and dry " the earth by their blowing upon it, so the animal spirits, by their perpetual u agitation, render by degrees the greatest part of the fibres of a man's brain •' more dry, more close, and solid ; so that persons more stricken in age mint •' necessarily have them almost always more inflexible than those of a lesser stand- *< ing. And as for thoie of the same age, drunkards, who for many years to- " gether have drank to excess either wine, or other such intoxicating liquors, must " needs have them more solid and more inflexible than those who hare abstained " from the use of such kind of liquors all their lives."* Note (T.) page 232. " Though Sir Isaac's memory was much decayed in the last years of his life, " I found he perfectly understood his own writings, contrary to what I had fre- " quently heard in discourse from many persons. This opinion of theirs might " arise, perhaps, from his not being always ready at speaking on these subjects, " when it might be expected he should. But as to this it may be observed, that " great geniuses are frequently liable to be absent, not only in relation to common '• life, but with regard to some of the parts of science they are the best informed *• of. Inventors seem to treasure up in their minds what they have found out, af- " ter another manner than those do the same things, who have not this inventive u faculty. The former, when they have occasion to produce their knowledge, " are, in some measure, obliged immediately to investigate part of what they want. " For this they are not equally fit at all times ; so it has often happened, that such " as retain things chiefly by a very strong memory, have appeared off-hand more " expert than the discoverers themselves."—Preface to Pembeutok's View of Newton's Philosophy. Note (U.) page 254 " Going over the theory of virtue in one's thoughts, talking Well, and drawing " fine pictures of it; this is so far from necessarily or certainly conducting to form " a habit of it in him who thus employs himself, that it may harden the mind in *• a contrary course, and render it gradually more insensible : i. e. from a habit of *' insensibility to all moral obligations. For, from our very faculty of habits, pas- '' sive impressions, by being repeated, grow weaker. Thoughts, by often passing " through the mind, are felt less sensibly : being accustomed to danger, begets in- " trepidity, i. e. lessens fear; to distress, lessens the passion of pity ; to instances " of others' mortality, lessens the sensible apprehension of our own. And from '" these two observations together, that practical habits are formed and strength- ** ened by repeated acts ; and that passive impressions grow weaker by being *" repeated upon us ; it must follow, that active habits may be gradually forming " and strengthening by a course of acting upon such and such motives and excite- " ments, whilst these motives and excitements themselves are, by proportionable " degrees growing less sensible, i. e. are continually less and less sensibly felt, even " as the active .habits strengthen. And experience confirms this : for active prin- " ciples, at the Very time they are less lively in perception than they were, are 11 found to be, somehow, wrought more thoroughly into the temper and character, "and become more effectual in influencing our practice. The three things just " mentioned may afford instances of it. Perception of danger is a natural excite- " ment of passive fear and active caution : and by being inured lo danger, habits " of the latter aregradully wrought, at the same time that the former gradually " lessens. Perception of distress in others, is a natural excitement passively to * Book ii.chap.6. Page 56 of Taylor's Tianilat.) NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 283 '<■ pity, and actively to relieve it: but let a man set himself to attend to, inquire out, " and relieve distressed persons, and he cannot but grow less and less sensibly " affected with the various miseries of life with which he must become acquaint- " ed ; when yet, at the same time, benevolence, considered not as a passion, but " as a practical principle of action, will strengthen ; and whilst he passively cora- " passionates the distressed less, he will acquire a greater aptitude actively to as- " sist and befriend them. So also, at the same time that the daily instances of " men's dying around us, give us daily a less sensible passive feeling or apprehen- " sion of our own mortality, such instances greatly contribute to the strengthening " a practical regard to it in serious men, i. e. to forming a habit of acting with a " constant view to it."—Butieb's Analogy, page 122,3d edit. END OP VOL. I. OP THE Philosophy of the Human Mind. By DUGALD STEWART, Esq. F. R. S. Edin. Honorary Member of the Imperial Academy of Sciences at St. Petersburgh; Member of the Royal Academy of Berlin, and of the American Philosophical Society held at Philadelphia; formerly Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. TWO VOLUMES BOUND IN ONE. VOLUME SECOND. ALBANY: PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY E. AND E. HOSFORP. 1822. ADVERTISEMENT. j^fter an interval of more than twenty years, I venture to present to the public a Second Volume on the Philosophy of the Human Mind. When the preceding Part was sent to the press, I expected that a few short chapters would comprehend all that I had further to offer concerning the Intellectual Powers ; and that I should be able to employ the greater part of this Volume in examining those principles of our constitution, which are immediately connected with the Theory of Morals. On proceeding, however, to attempt an analysis of Reason, in the more strict acceptation of that term, I found so many doubts crowding on me with respect to the lo- gical doctrines then generally received, that I was forced to abandon the comparatively limited plan according to which I had originally intended to treat of the Understanding, and, in the mean time, to suspend the continua- tion of my work, till a more unbroken leisure should allow me to resume it with a less divided attention. Of the accidents which have since occurred to retard my progress, it is unnecessary to take any notice here. I allude to them, merely as an apo- logy for those defects of method, which are the natural, and perhaps the unavoidable consequences of the frequent interruptions by which the train of my thoughts has been diverted to other pursuits. Such of my readers as are able to judge how very large a proportion of my materials has been the fruit of my own meditations; and who are aware of the fugitive nature of our reasonings concerning phenomena so far removed from the perceptions of Sense, will easily conceive the difficulty I must occasionally have expe- rienced, in decyphering the short and slight hints on these topics, which I had committed to writing at remote periods of my life; and still more, in re- covering the thread which had at first connected them together in the order of my researches. I have repeatedly had occasion to regret the tendency of this intermitted and irregular mode of composition, to deprive my speculations of those advan- tages, in point of continuity, which to the utmost of my power, I have endea- voured to give them. But 1 would willingly indulge the hope, that this is a blemish more likely to meet the eye of the author than of the reader; and i am confident, that the critic who shall honour me with a sufficient degree of attention, to detect it where it may occur, will not be inclined to treat it with an undue severity. iv ADVERTISEMENT. A Third Volume (of which the chief materials are already prepared) will comprehend all that I mean to publish under the title of the Philosophy of the Human Mind. The principal subjects allotted for it are language ; Imitation; the Varieties of intellectual Character; and the Faculties by which Man is distinguished from the lower animals. The two first of those articles belong, in strict propriety, to the second part of my work ; but the size of the volume has prevented me from entering ou the consideration of them at present. The circumstances which have so long delayed the publication of these volumes on the Intellectual Powers, have not operated, in an equal degree, to prevent the prosecution of my inquiries into those principles of Human Nature, to which my attention was,, for many years, statedly and forcibly called by my official duty. Much, indeed, still remains to be done in ma- turing, digesting, and arranging many of the doctrines wbich I was accus- tomed to introduce into my lectures; but if I shall be blessed, for a few years longer, with a moderate share of health and of mental vigour, I do not altogether despair of yet contributing something, in the form of Essays, to fill up' the outline which the sanguine imagination of youth encouraged me to conceive, before I had duly measured the magnitude of my undertaking with the time or with the abilities which I could devote to the execution. The volume which 1 now publish is more particularly intended for the use of Academical Students ; and is offered to them as a guide or assistant, at that important stage of their progress when, the usual course of discipline being completed, an inquisitive mind is naturally led to review its past at- tainments, and to form plans for its future improvement. In the prosecu- tion of this design, I have not aimed at the establishment of new theories; far less have I aspired to the invention of any new organ for the discovery of truth. My principal object is to aid my readers in unlearning the scho- lastic errors, which, in a greater or less degree, still maintain their ground in our most celebrated seats of learning ; and by subjecting to free, but I trust, aot sceptical discussion, the more e»lightened though discordant sys- tems of modern Logicians, to accustom the understanding to the unfettered exercise of its native capacities. That several of the views opened in the following pages appear to myself original, and of some importance, I will not deny; but the reception these may meet with, I shall regard as a matter of comparative indifference, if my labours be found useful in training the mind to those habits of reflection on its own operations, which may enable it to superadd to the instructions of the schools, that higher education which no sehools can bestow. kinneil-house, ) 22 November, 1813. $ CONTENTS. Page Of REASON, OR THE UNDERSTANDING PROPERLY SO CALLED ; AND THE VARIOUS FACULTIES AND OPERATIONS MORE IMMEDIATELY CON- NECTED WITH IT-------.- 9 Preliminary observations on the vagueness and ambiguity of the com- mon philosophical language relative to this part of our constitution. —Reason and reasoning,—understanding,—intellect,—judgment, &c............9 CHAPTER I.—Of the Fundamental Laws of Human Belief; or the Primary Elements of Human Reason .... 21 Section I.—Of Mathematical Axioms ..... gl L.........22 II. Continuation of the same Subject 30 Section II.—Of certain Laws of Belief, inseparably connected with the exercise of Consciousness, Memory, Perception, and Reasoning ---------33 Section III.—Continuation of the Subject.—Critical Remarks on some late Controversies to which it has given rise.—Of the ap- peals which Dr. Reid and some other Modern Writers have made, in their Philosophical Discussions, to Common Sense, as a Criterion of Truth -------.40 CHAPTER II.—Of Reasoning and of Deductive Evidence - 52 Section I. ----------52 I. Doubts with respect to Locke's Distinction between the Powers of Intuition and of Reasoning - 52 II. Conclusions obtained by a process of Deduction of- ten mistaken for intuitive Judgments - - 57 Section II.—Of General Reasoning - - - -. - 60 I. Illustrations of some Remarks formerly stated in v treating of Abstraction ----- 60 II. Continuation of thev Subject.—Of Language con- sidered as an Instrument of Thought - - 71 in. Continuation of the Subject.—Visionary Theories of some Logicians, occasioned by their inattention to the Essential Distinction between Mathematics and other Sciences * ** - - - 75 IV. Continuation of the Subject.—Peculiar and super- eminent Advantages possessed by Mathematicians, in consequence of their definite Phraseology 80 M COM EMS, Section III.—Of Mathematical Demonstration - - - 81 I. Of the Circumstance on which Demonstrative Evi- dence essentially depends 01 II. Continuation of the Subject.—I low far it is true that all Mathematical Evidence is resolvable into Identical Propositions ..... sy III. Continuation of the Subject.—Evidence of the Me- chanical Philosophy, not to be confounded with that which is properly called Demonstrative or Mathematical.—Opposite Error of some late Wri- ters ........ C5 Section IV. Of our Reasonings concerning Probable or Contin- gent Truths - - - - - 101! I. Narrow Field of Demonstrative Evidence.—Of De- monstrative Evidence, when combined with that of Sensk, as in Practical Geometry ; and with those of Sense and of Induction, as in the Mecha- nical Philosophy.—Remarks on a Fundamental Law of Belief, involved in all our reasonings con- cerning Contingent Truths - - - IOC II. Continuation of the Subject.—Of that Permanence or Stability in the Order of Nature, which is pre- supposed in our Reasoning concerning Contingent Truths ... . ... HI 111. Continuation of the Subject.—General Remarks on the Difference between the Evidence of Expe- rience, and that of Analogy .... 120 IV. Continuation of the Subject.—Evidence of Testi- mony tacitly recognized as a Ground of Belief, in our most certain conclusions concerning contin- gent Truths.—Difference between the Logical and the Popular Meaning of the word Probability 12fi CHAPTER III.—Of the Aristotelian Logic 128 Section I.—Of the Demonstrations of the Syllogistic Rules given by Aristotle and his Commentators - - - - - 12li Slction II.—General Reflections on the Aim of the Aristotelian Logic, and on the intellectual Habits which the study of it has a tendency to form-—That the improvement of the power of rea- soning ought to be regarded as only a secondary Object in the culture of the Understanding......141 Section III.—In what respects the study of the Aristotelian Logic may be useful to disputants.—A general acquaintance with it justly regarded as an essential accomplishment to those who are liberally educated.—Doubts suggested by some late writers, concerning Aristotle's claims to the invention of the Syllogistic Theory - - - - - - - - - -151 CHAPTER IV— Of the Method of Inquiry pointed out in the Expe- rimental or Inductive Logic ...... JCO CONTENTS Vll Section I.—Mistakes of the Ancients concerning the proper ob- ject of Philosophy.—Ideas of Bacon on the same Subject.—In- ductive Reasoning.— Analysis and Synthesis.—Essential differ- ence between Legitimate and Hypothetical Theories - - 160 Section II.—Continuation of the Subject.—The Induction of Aristotle compared with that of Bacon - - - - 175 Section III.—Of the Import of the Words Analysis and Synthesis, in the Language of Modern Philosophy - - - - 182 I. Preliminary Observations on the Analysis and Syn- thesis of the Greek Geometricians ... 183 II. Critical Remarks on the vague Use, among Modern Writers, of the Terms Analysis and Synthesis - 188 Section IV.—The Consideration of the Inductive Logic resumed 197 I. Additional Remarks on the distinction between Experience and Analogy.—Of the grounds afford- ed by the latter for Scientific Inference and Con- jecture --.-.._ 197 II. Use and Abuse of Hypothesis in Philosophical In- quiries.—Difference between Gratuitous Hypo- theses, and those which are supported by presump- tions suggested by Analogy.—Indirect Evidence which a Hypothesis may derive from its agreement with the Phenomena.—Cautions against extend- ing some of these conclusions to the Philosophy of the Human Mind.....- 206 III. Supplemental Observations on the words induc- tion and Anaxogy, as used in Mathematics - 218 Section V.—Of certain misapphcations of the words Experience and Induction in the phraseology of Modern Science.—Illustra- tions from Medicine and from Political Economy ... 222 Section VI.—Of the Speculation concerning Final Causes - 231 I. Opinion of Lord Bacon on the Subject.—Final Causes rejected by Des Cartes, and by the majori- ty of French Philosophers.—Recognized as legiti- mate Objects of research by Newton.—Tacitly acknowledged by all as a useful logical Guide, even in Sciences which have no immediate rela- tion to Theory......231 II. Danger of confounding Final with Physical Caus- es in the Philosophy of the Human Mind - 241 Conclusion of Part Second ....... 246 Notes and Illustrations - - - - - -251 XJUBBCUHrS OP THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE HUMAN MIND. PART SECOND. OP REASON, OR THE UNDERSTANDING PROPERLY SO CALLED; AND THE VARIOUS FACULTIES AND OPERATIONS MORE IMMEDIATELY CONNECT- ED WITH IT. Prelimenary observations on the vagueness and ambiguity of the common philoso- phical language relative to this part of our constitution.—Reason and reasoning, —understanding,—intellect,—judgment, &c. |_ he power of Reason, of which 1 am now to treat, is unquestionably the most important by far, of those which are comprehended under the general title of Intellectual. 'It is on the right use of this power that our success in the pursuit both of knowledge and of happiness depends; and it is by the exclusive possession of it, that man is distinguished, in the most essential respects, from the lower animals. It is indeed, from their subserviency to its operations that the other faculties, which have been hitherto under our consideration, derive their chief value. In proportion to the peculiar importance of this subject are its extent and its difficulty ;—both of them such as lay me under a necessity, now that I am to enter on the discussion, to contract, in various instances.those designs in which I was accustomed to indulge myself, when I looked for- ward to it from a distance. The execution of them at present, even if I were more competent to the task, appears lo me, on a closer examina- tion, to be altogether incompatible with the comprehensiveness of the general plan which was sketched out in the advertisement prefixed to the former volume; and to the accomplishment of which I am anxious, in the first instance, to direct my efforts. If that undertaking should ever be completed, I may perhaps be able afterwards to offer additional illustrations of certain articles, which the limits of this part of my work prevent me from considering with the attention which they deserve. I should wish, in particular, to Contribute something more than I can here introduce, towards a rational and practical system of Logic, adapted lo the present state of human knowledge, and to the real business of human life. Vol. ji. 2 * 10 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY " What subject (says Burke) does not branch out to infinity ! It is the " nature of our particular scheme, and the single point of view iu which " wc consider it, which ought to put a stop to our researches."* How forcibly does the remark apply to fill those speculations which relate lo the principles of the Human Mind! I have frequently had occasion, in the course of the foregoing disqui- sitions, to regret the obscurity in which this department of philosophy is involved, by the vagueness and ambiguity of words ; and I have men- tioned, at the same time, my unwillingness to attempt verbal innova- tions, wherever I could possibly avoid them, without essential injury to my argument. The rule which I have adopted in my own practice is, to give to every faculty and operation of the mind its own appropriate name ; following in the selection of this name, the prevalent use of our best writers; and endeavouring afterwards, as far as I have been able, to employ each word exclusively, in that acceptation in which it has hith- erto been used most generally. In the judgments which I have formed on points of this sort, it is more than probable that I may sometimes have been mistaken; but the mistake is of little consequence, if 1 my- self have invariably annexed the same meaning to the same phrase;— an accuracy which I am not so presumptuous as to imagine that I have uniformly attained, but which I am conscious of having, at least, uni- formly attempted, flow far I have succeeded, they alone who have followed my reasonings with a very critical attention are qualified to de- termine ; for it is not by the statement of formal definitions, but by the habitual use of precise and appropriate language, that I have endeavour- ed to fix in my reader's mind the exact import of my expressions. In appropriating, however, particular words to particular ideas, I do not mean to censure the practice of those who may have understood them in a sense different from that which I annex to them; but I found that, without such an appropriation, I could not explain my notions re- specting the human mind, with any tolerable degree of distinctness. This scrupulous appropriation of terms, if it can be called an innovation, is the only one which I have attempted to introduce; for in no instance have I presumed to annex a philosophical meaning to a technical word belonging to this branch of science, without having previously shewn, that it has been used in the same sense by good writers, in some passa- ges of their works. After doing this, I hope I shall not be accused of af- fectation, when I decline to use it in any of the other acceptations, in which, from carelessness or from want of precision, they may have been led occasionally to employ it. Some remarkable instances of vagueness and ambiguity in the em- ployment of words, occur in that branch of my subject of which I am now to treat. The word reason itself is far from being precise in its meaning. In common and popular discourse, it denotes that power by which we distinguish truth from falsehood, and right from wrong ; and by which we are enabled to combine means for the attainment of par- ticular ends. Whether these different capacities are, with strict logical propriety, referred to the same power, is a question which I shall ex- amine in another part of my work; but that they are all included in the idea which is generally annexed to the word reason, there can be * Conclusion of the Inquiry into the Sublime and the Beautiful. OF THE HUMAN MIND. 11 no doubt; and the case, so far as I know, is the same with the corres- ponding term in all languages whatever. The fact probably is, that this word was first employed to comprehend the principles, whatever they are, by which man is distinguished from the brutes; and afterwards came to be somewhat limited in its meaning, by the more obvious con- clusions concerning the nature of that distinction, which present them- selves to the common sense of mankind. It is in this enlarged meaning that it is opposed to instinct by Pope: " And reason raise o'er Instinct as you can ; " In this 'tis God directs, in that 'tis Man.'' It was thus, too, that Milton plainly understood the term, when he remarked, that smiles imply the exercise of reason; *------Smiles from Reason flow, " To brutes denied:"------ And still more explicitly in these noble lines: " There wanted yet the master-work, the end " Of all yet done; a creature who, not prone " And brute as other creatures, but endued " With sanctity of reason, might erect ** His stature,, and upright with front serene " Govern the rest, self-knowing; and from thence, "Magnanimous, to correspond with heaven: " But, grateful to acknowledge whence his good '• Descends thither with heart, and voice, and eyes " Directed in devotion, to adore " And worship God Supreme, who made him chief "Of all his works." Among the various characteristics of humanity, the power of devising means to accomplish ends, together with the power of distinguishing truth from falsehood, and right from wrong, are obviously the most con- spicuous and important; and accordingly it is to these that the word reason, even in its most comprehensive acceptation, is now exclusively restricted.* * This, I think, is the meaning which most naturally presents itself to common readers, when the word reason occurs in authors not affecting to aim at any nice logical distinctions; and it is certainly the meaning which must be annexed to it, in some of the most serious and important arguments in which it has ever been employed. In the following passage, for ex- ample, where Mr. Locke contrasts the light of Reason with that of Revelation, he plainly proceeds on the suppesition, that it is competent to appeal to the former, as affording a stand. ard of right and wrong not less than of speculative truth and falsehood; nor can there be a doubt that, when he speaks of truth as the object of natural reason, it was principally, if not wholly, moral truth, which he had in his view : " Reason is natural revelation, whereby the eternal Father of light, and Fountain of all knowledge, communicates to mankind lhat portion of truth which he has laid within the reach of their natural faculties. Revelation is natural reason, enlarged by a new set of discoveries, communicated by God immediately, which reason vouches the truth of, by the testimony and proof it gives that they come from God. So that he who takes away reason to make way for revelation, puts out the light of both, and does much the same, as if he would persuade a man to put out his eyes, the better to receive the remote light of an invisible star by a telescope."—Locke's Essay, b. iv. c. 19. A passage still more explicit for my present purpose occurs in the pleasing and'philosophi- cal conjectures of Huyghens, concerning the planetary worlds.«' Positis vero ejusmodi pla- netarum incolis ralione utentibus, quaeri adhuc potest,,anne idem illic, atque apud nos, sit 12 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY By some philosophers, the meaning of the word has been, of late re- stricted still farther; to the power by which we distinguish truth from falsehood, and combine means for the accomplishment of our purposes j —the capacity of distinguishing right from \vroiird under- standing be avoided; and as to intellection, which a Lite very acute writer* has attempted to introduce, 1 can see no advantage -itu-nding it, which at all compensates for the addition of a new and uncouth term to a phraseology which, even in its mo*t simple and unaffected furm is so apt to revolt the generality of readers. The only other indefinite word which I shall take notice of in these introductory rfemarks \* judgment; and, in doing so, I shall confine my- self to such of its ambiguities as are more peculiarly connected with our present subject In some rases, its meaning seeim to approach to that of understand- ing; as in the nearly synonymous phrases, a sound understanding, and a sound judgment. If there be any difference between these two modes of expression, it appears to me to consist chiefly in this, that the former implies a greater degree of positive ability than the latter ; which indi- cates rather an exemption from those biases which lead the mind astray, than the possession of any uncommon reach of capacity. To under- standing we apply the epithets strong, vigorous, comprehensive, pro- found : To judgment, those of correct, cool, unprejudiced, impartial, solid. It was in this sense that the word seems to have been understood by Pope, in the following couplet: •' 'Tiswith our judgments as our watches ; none " Go just alike, yet each believes his own." For this meaning of the word, its primitive and literal applicalion to the judicial decision of a tribunal accounts sufficiently. Agreeably to the same fundamental idea, the name of judgment is given, with peculiar propriety, lo those acquired powers of discernment which characterize a skilful critic in the fine arts ; powers which de- pend, in a very great degree, on a temper of mind free from the undue influence of authority and of casual associations The power of Taste itself is frequently denoted by the appellation of judgment; and a per- son who possesses a more than ordinary share of it, is said to be a judge in those matters which fall under ils cognizance. The meaning annexed to the word by logical writers, is considerably different from this; denoting one of the simplest acts or operations of which we are conscious, in the exercise of our rational powers. In this acceptation, it does not admit of definition, any more than sensation, will, or belief. All that can be done, in such cases, is to describe the oc- casions on which the operation takes place, so as to direct the atten- tion of others to their own thoughts. With this view, it may be observ- ed, in the present instance, that when we give our assent to a mathe- *Dr. Campbell. See his Philosophy of Rhetoric, Vol.1, p. 103, 1st edition [Boston edition, p. 57.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 17 malical axiom ; or when, after perusing the demonstration of a theorem, we assent to the conclusion ; or, in general, when we pronounce con- cerning the truth or falsity of any proposition, or the probability or im- probability of any event, the power by which we are enabled to per- ceive what is true or false, probable or improbable, is called by logicians the faculty of judgment. The same word, too, is frequently used to ex- press the particular acts of this power, as when the decision of the un- derstanding on any question is called a judgment of the mind. In treatises of logic, judgment is commonly defined to be an act of the mind, by which one thing is affirmed or denied of another; a definition which, though not unexceptionable, is, perhaps less so than most that have been given on similar occasions. Ils defect, (as Dr. Reid has re- marked) consists in this,—that although it be by affirmation or denial that we express our judgments to others, yet judgment is a solitary act of the mind, to which this affirmation or denial is not essential; and therefore, if the definition be admitted, it must be understood of mental affirmation or denial only ; in which case, we do no more than substitute, instead of the thing defined, another mode of speaking perfectly synony- mous. The definition has, however, notwithstanding this imperfection, the merit of a conciseness and perspicuity, not often to be found in the attempts of logicians to explain our intellectual operations. Mr. Locke seems disposed to restrict the word judgment to that fac- ulty which pronounces concerning the veri-similitude of doubtful pro- positions ; employing the word knowledge to express the faculty which perceives the truth of propositions, either intuitively or demonstratively certain. "The faculty which God has given man, to >upply the want " of clear and certain knowledge in cases where that cannot be had, is tl judgment ; whereby the mind takes its ideas to agree or disagree j or, " which is the same thing, any proposition to be true or false, without " perceivtiig a demonstrative .evidence in the proofs. " Thus, the mind has two faculties, conversant about truth and false- " hood. '■ First, knowledge, whereby it certainly perceives, and is undoubted- " ly satisfied of the agreement or disagreement of any ideas. " Secondly, judgment, which is the putting ideas together, or sepa- rating them from one another in the mind, when their agreement or " disagreement is not perceived, but presumed to be so; which is, as the " word imports, taken to be so, before it certainly appears. And if it so " unites, or separates them, as in reality things are, it is right judg' " ment."* For this limitation in the definition of judgment, some pretence is af- forded by the literal signification of the word, when applied to the de- cision of a tribunal j and also, by its metaphorical application to the decisions of the mind, on those critical questions which fall under the province of Taste. But, considered as a technical or scientific term of logic, the practice of our purest and most correct writers sufficiently sanctions the more enlarged sense in which I have explained it; and, if I do not much deceive myself, this use of it will be found more favoura- ble to phiteophical distinctness than Mr. Locke's language, which leads to an unuewssary multiplication of our intellectual powers. What good •* F.ssay on the Human Understanding, Book iv. Chap. 14. VOL. n. 3 IB ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY reason can be given for assigning one name to the faculty which per- ceives truths that are certain, and another name to the faculty which perceives truths that are probable? Would it not be equally proper to distinguish, by different names, the power by which we perceive one proposition to be true, and another to be false? As to knowledge, I do not think that it can, with propriety, be con- trasted with judgment; nor do 1 apprehend that il is at all agreeable, either to common use or to philosophical accuracy to speak of know- ledge as a faculty. To me it seems rather to denote the pnsst.winn of those truths, about which our faculties have been previously employed, than any separate power of the understanding, by which troth is per- ceived^ Before concluding these preliminary remark*, 1 cannot help expres- sing my regret, that the subject on which I am about to enter will so frequently lay me under the necessity of criticising the language and of disputing the opinions of my predecessors. In doing so, I am not conscious of being at all influenced by a wish to indulge myself in the captiousness of controversy : nor am I much afraid of this imputation from any of my readers who shall honour these speculation* with an at- tentive perusal. My real aim is, in theirs/ place, to explain the grounds * In attempting thus to fix the logical import of various words in our language which are apt to be confounded, >n popular speech, with reason, uud also with rea- soning, some of my readers may be surprised, that 1 have said nolliing about the word wisdom. The truih is, that the notion expressed by this term, as it is em- ployed by our best writers, seems to presuppose the influence of some principles, the consideration of which belongs to a different part of my work. In confirma- tion of this, it may be remarked, that whereas the province ot our reasoning pow- ers (in their application to the business of life,) is limned to the choice of meant, wisdom denotes a power of a more comprehensive nature, and of a higher order ; a power which implies a judicious selection bo h of means an 1 of ends. It is very precisely defined by Sir William Temple, to be "lhat which makes men judge what are the best ends, and what the best meant to attain them." Of these two modifications of wisdom, the one denotes a power of the mind which obviously falls under the view of the logician ; the examination of the other as obviously belongs to ethics. A distinction similar to this was plainly in the mind of Cud worth when he wrote the following passage, which, although drawn from the purest sources of ancient philosophy, will, I doubt not, from the uncoudiness of the phraseology, have ihe appearance of extravagance to many in the present times. To myself it appears to point at a fact of the highest importance in the moral constitution of man. " We have all of us by nature (MtiTtVfix ri (as both Plato and Aristotle call it) a certain divination, presage, and parturient vaticination in our minds, of some higher good and perfection, than either power or knowledge. Knowledge is plain- ly to be preferred before power, as being that which guides and directs its blind force and impetus; but Aristotle himself declares, that there is Xoyov ti xgur ***•*»» which is Xoyov *i>%y) j something belter than reason and knowledge, which is the principle and original of it. Fur (saith lit) Xoyov x( X» »v Xoyof, xXXx ri xgtifTof. The principle of reason is not reason, but something better.—Intellec- tual System, p. 203. Lord Shaftsbury has expressed the same truth more simply and perspicuously in that beautiful sentence which occurs more than once in his writings : ' True wisdom comes more from the heartthan from the head." NumberlesaJlustrations of this profound maxim must immediately crowd on the memory oflPU who are conversant with the most enlighten.-d works on the theory of legislation : more particularly, with those which appeared, during the eighteenth century, on the science of political economy. OF THE HUMAN MIND. 19 of my own deviations from the track which has been commonly pur- sued ; and, secondly, to facilitate the progress of such as may follow me in the same path, by directing their attention to those points of diver- gency in the way, which may suggest matter of doubt or hesitation. I know at the same time, that in the opinion of many, the best mode of unfolding the principles of a science is to state them systematically and concisely, without any historical retrospects whatever ; and I believe the opinion is well-founded, in those departments of knowledge, where the difficulty arises less from vaeue ideas and indefinite terms, than from the length of the logical chain which the student has to trace. But, in such disquisitions as we are now engaged in, it is chiefly from the gra- dual correction of verbal ambiguities, and the gradual detection of un- suspected prejudices, that a progressive, though slow approximation to truth, is to be expected. It is indeed a slow approximation, at best, that we can hope to accomplish at present, in the examination of a sub- ject where so many powerful causes (particularly those connected with the imperfections of language) conspire to lead us astray. But the stu- dy of the human mind is not, on that account, lo be abandoned. Who- ever compares its actual state with that in which Bacon, Des Cartes, and Locke found it, must be sensible how amply their efforts for its improve- ment have been repaid, both by their own attainments, and by those of others who have since profited by their example. I am willing to hope, that some useful hints for its farther advancement may be derived even from my own researches; and, distant as the prospect may be of rais- ing it to a level with the physical science of the Newtonian school, by uniting the opinions of speculative men about fundamental principles, my ambition as an author will be fully gratified, if, by the few who are competent to judge, I shall be allowed to have contributed my share, however small, towards the attainment of so great an object. In the discussions which immediately follow, no argument will I trust, occur beyond the reach of those who shall read them with the attention which every inquiry into the human mind indispensably requires. I have, certainly endeavourec", to the utmost of my abilities, to render eve- ry sentence which I have written, not only intelligible but perspicuous ; and, where I have failed in the attempt, the obscurity will, I hope, be imputed, not to an affectation of mystery but to gome error of judg- ment. I can, without much vanity, say, that with less expense of thought, I could have rivalled the obscurity of Kant; and that the invention of a new technical language, such as that which he has introduced, would have been an easier task, t!ian the communication of clear and precise notions {if I have been so fortunate as lo succeed in this communication,) without departing from the established modes of expression. To the following observations of D'Alembert (with some trifling ver- bal exceptions) I give my most cordial assent; and. mortifying as they may appear to the pretensions of bolder theorists, 1 should be happy to see them generaUy recognised as canons of philosophical criticism:— " Truth in rretaphysics resembles truth in matters of taste. In bothca- " ses, the seeds of it exist in every mind ; though few think of attending " to this latent treasure, till it he pointed out to them by more curious '' inquirers. It should seem that every thing we learn from a good me- " tapl^ysical book is only a sort of reminiscence of what the mind previ- " ously knew. The obscurity, of which we are apt to complain in this 20 ELEMENTS OF THE 1'lllLOSOI'HV ,; science, may be always justly a«cribcd to the author ; because the in- (' formation, which he professes to commuric-t*-, requires no technical " language appropriated to itself \ccordingly, we may apply to good " metaphysical authors what has been said of those who excel in the " art of writing, that, in reading them, even body is apt to iinn^ine, " lhat he himself could have written in the snme manner. " But, in this sort of speculation, if all ate qualified to understand, all u are not fitted to teach. The merit of accommodating easily to the ap- " prehension of others, notions, which are at once simple and just, ap- " pears, from its extreme rarity, lo be much greater than is commonly " imagined. Sound metaphysical principles are truths which every one '' is ready to seize, but which few men have ihe taktit of unfolding ; so '• difficult is it in this, as well as in other instances, to appropriate to '* one's self what seems to be the common inheritance of the human \ho study only from motives nf literary vanity ; and. if D'Alemberl's idea of this branch of science be just, the wider an author deviates from truth, the more likely are his conclusions to assume the appearance of discov- eries. I may add, that it is chiefly in those discussions which possess the best claims to originality, where he may expect to be told by the multi- tude, that they have learned from him nothing but what they knew be- fore. The latitude with which the word metaphysics is frequently used, makes it necessary for me to remark, with respect to the foregoing pas- sage from D'Alembert, that he limits the term entirely to an account of the origin of our ideas. " The generation of our ideas (he tells us) be- " longs to metaphysics. It forms one of the principal objects, and per- " haps oughlto form the sole object of that -cience."t—If the meaning of the word be extended, as it too often is in our language, so as to com- prehend all those enquiries which relate lo the theory and to the improve- ment of our mental powers, some of his observations must be understood * M Le vrai en metaphysique ressemble au vrai en matiere de gout; e'est un vrai dont tous les esprits ont le germe en eux-memes, auquel la plupart ne font point d'attention, mais qu'ils reconnoissent des qu'on le leur montre. 11 scmble que tout ce qu'on apprend dans un bon livere de mdtaphysique, ne soit qu'une espece de r^miniscene de ce que notre ame a d£ja su ; l'obscuntd, quand il yen a, vient toujours de la faute de l'auteur, parceque lu science qu'il st propose d'enseigner n'a point d'autre langue que la langue commune. Aussi peut-on appliquer aux bons auteurs de metaphysique ce qu'on a dit des bons 6crivains, qu'il n'y a pcrsonne qui en les lisant, ne croie pouvoir en dire autant qu'eux. " Mais si dans ce genre tous sont faits pour entendre, tous ne sont pas faits pour instruire. Le meYite de faire entrer avec facilite dans les esprits des notions vraies et simples, est beaucoup plus gi and qu'on ne pense, puisque 1'experience nous prouve combien d est rare ; les saines idees m^taphysiques sont des veYitGs com- munes que chacun saisit, mais que peu d'hommes ont le talent de dlvelopper ; tant ilest difficile, dans quelque sujet que cepuisse etre, de se rendre propre ce qui appartient a tout le monde." Elemens de Philosophic ■j- La generation de nos idees appartient a la metaphysique; e'est un de ses ob- jet* principaux, et peut-etre devroit elle s'y borner.*'—Elemens de Philosophic Sect. I.J OF THE HUMAN MIND. 21 with very important restrictions. What be has stated, however, on the inseparable connexion between perspicuity i&t -etyle and soundness of in- vestigation in metaphysical disquisitions, will be found to hold equally in every research to which that epithet can, with any colour of propri- ety, be applied. CHAPTER FIRST. OP THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OP HUMAN BELIEF J OR THE PRIMARY ELE- MENTS OF HUMAN REASON, _1 he propriety of the title prefixed to this Chapter will, I trust, be jus- tified sufficiently by the speculations which are to follow. As these dif- fer, in some essential points, from the conclusions of former writers, I found myself under the necessity of abandoning, in various instances, their phraseology;—but my reasons for the particular changes which I have made, cannot possibly be judged of, or even understood, till the inquiries by which I was led to adopt them be earefclly examined. I begin with a review of some of those primary truths, a conviction of which is necessarily implied in all our thoughts and in all our actions ; and which seem, on that account, rather to form constituent and essen- tial elements of reason than objects with which reason is conversant. The import of this last remark will appear more clearly afterward?. The primary truths to which I mean to confine my attention at pre- sent are, 1. Mathematical Axioms : 2. Truths (cr more properly speak- ing, Laws of Belief,) inseparably connected with Ihe exercise of Con- sciousness, Perception, Memory, and Reasoning.—Of some additional Laws of Belief, the truth of which is tacitly recognised in all our rea- ponings concerning contingent events, I shall have occasion to take no- tice under a different article. SECTION I. OF MATHEMATICAL AXIOMS. I have placed this class of truths at the head of the enumeration, merely because they seem likely, from the place which they ho'd in the elements of geometry, to present to my readers a more interesting aud at the same time an easier subject of discussion, than some of the more abstract and latent elements of our knowledge, afterwards to be . ,n» sidered. In other respects, a different arrangement might perhaps have possessed some advantages, in point of strict logical method. 22 ELEMENTS OK THE l'HILOSOl'HY [chap. I. I. On the evidence of mathematical axioms it is unnecessary to enlarre, as the controversies to which they have given occasion are entirely of a specula live, or rather scholastic description; and have no tendency to affect the certainty of that branch of science to which they are sup- posed to be subservient. It must at the same time be confessed, with respect to this class of propositions (and the same remark may be extended to axioms in gene- ral,; that some of the logical questions connected with them continue still to be involved in much obscurity. In proportion to their extreme simplicity is the difficulty of illustrating or of describing their nature in unexceptionable language; or even of ascertaining a precise criterion by whi< h they may be distinguished from other truths which approach to them iv.-arly. It is chiefly owing to this, that, in geometry, there are no theorems of which it is so difficult to give a rigorous demonstration, as those, of which persons unacquainted with the nature of mathemati- cal evidence are apt to say, that they require no proof whatever. But the inconvpiiiencies arising from these ciicumstaucesare of trifling mo- ment; occasioning at the worst, some embarrassment to those mathe- matical writers, who are studious of the most finished elegance in their exposition of elementary principles ; or to metaphysicians, anxious to display their subtilty upon points which cannot possibly lead to any practical conclusion. It wash ng ago remarked by Locke, of the axioms of germetry, as stated by Euclid, lhat although the proposition be at first enunciated in general terms, and afterwards appealed to, in its partiru'ai applica- tions, as a principle previously examined and admitted, yet lhat the truth is not less evident in the latter case than in ihe f'o.'inor., H-» observes farther, that it is in some of its particular applications, vhat the truth of every axiom is originally perceived by the mind ; and, tluref>r« , that the general proposition, so far from being th^ ground of our asM'iit to the truths which it comprehends, is only a verbal generalization of what, in particular instances, has been already acknowledged as true. The same author remarks, that some of these aximis •' are no more :< than bare verbal propositions, and teach us nothing but the respect 11 and import of names one to another. The whole is equal to all its " parts : what real truth, I beseech you, does it teach us? What more " is contained in that maxim, than what the signification of the word u totum, or the whole does of itself import ? And he lhat knows thai the " word whole stands for what is made up of all its parts, knows very " little less, than that * the whole is equal to all its parts.' And upon •"' the same ground, I think, that this proposition, A hill is higher than " a valley, and several the like, may also pass for maxims.'* Notwithstanding these considerations, Mr. Locke does not object to the form which Euclid has given to his axioms, or to the place which he has assigned to them in his Elements. On ihe contrary, he is of opinion, that a collection of such maxims is not without teason prefixed to a mathematical sy-tein ; in order that learners, "having in the be- " ginning perfectly acquainted their thoughts with these propositions " made in general terms, may have them ready to apply lo all particu- *' lar cases as formed rules and sayings. Not that, if they be equally Sect. I.J OF THE HUMAN MlNt». 23 " weighed, they are more clear and evident than the instances they are ** brought to confirm ; but that, being more familiar to ihe mind, the " very naming of them is enough to satisfy the understanding.'" In farther illustration of this, be adds very justly and ingeniously, that " although our knowledge begins in particulars, and so spreads itself by " degrees to generals; yet, afterwards, the mind takes quite the contrary " course, and having draw;n its knowledge into as general propositions " as it can, makes them familiar to its thoughts, and accustoms itself to " have recourse to them, as to the standards of truth and falsehood." But although, in mathematics, some advantage may be gained with- out the risk of any possible inconvenience, from this arrangement of ax- ioms, it is a very dangerous example to be followed in other branches of knowledge, where our notions are not equally clear and precise; and where the force of our pretended axioms (to use Mr. Locke's words) " reaching only to the sound, and not to the signification of the words, " serves only to lead us into confusion, mistakes, and error." For the illustration of this remark, I must refer to Locke. Another observation of this profound writer deserves our attention, while examining the nature of axioms; " that they are not the found- " ations on which any «>f the sciences is built; nor at all useful in help- ing men forward to the discovery of unknown truths."* This observa- tion I intend to illustrate afterwards, in treating of the futility of the syllogistic art. At present I shall only add, to what Mr. Locke has so well staled, that, even in mathematics, it cannot with any propriety be said, that the axioms are the foundation on which the science rests; or the firsrt principles from which its more recondite truths are deduced. Of this 1 have little doubt that Locke was perfectly aware ; but the mis- takes which some of the most acute and enlightened of his disciples have committed in treating of the tame subject, convince me, that a further elucidation of it is not altogether superfluous. With this view, 1 shall here introduce a few remarks on a passage in Dr. Campbell's Philoso- phy of Rhetoric, in which he has betrayed some misapprehensions on this very point, which a little more attention lo the hints already quoted from the Essay on Human Understanding might have prevented. These remarks will, I hope, contribute to place the nature of axioms, more particularly of mathemaical axioms, in a different and clearer light than that in which they have been commonly considered. "Ofintuitive evidence (says Dr. Campbell) that of the following " propositions may serve as an illustration : One and four make five. " Things equal to the same thing are equal to one another. The whole " is greater than a part; and, in brief, ail axioms in arithmetic and ge- " ometry. These are, in effect, but so many expositions of our own " general notions, taken in different views. Some of them are no more " than definitions, or equivalent to definitions. To say, one and four " make Jive, is precisely the same thing as to say, we give the name of '•^ceto one added to four. In fact, they are all in some respects redu- " cible to this axiom, whatever is, is. 1 do not say they are deduced " from it, for they have in like manner that original and intrinsic evi- " dence, which makes thein, as soon as the terms are understood, to be * Book iv. chap. 7. § 11,-2, 3. 24 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. i. " perceived intuitively. Anl,if ihey are not hus perceived, no deduc- " tion of reason will ever confer on them any additional evidence. Nay, «'in point of lime, the dis overy of the less general truths has the pri- '• oritv? "ot 'r01" their superior evidence, hut solely from this considc- " ration, that the less general are sooner objects of perception to ui>. " But 1 affirm, that though not deduced from that axiom, they may be '* considered as particular exemplifications of.it, and coincident with it, " in as much as they are all implied in this, that the properties of our " clear and adequate ideas can be n<> other than whai the mind clearly tl perceives them to be. " But, in order lo prevent mistakes, it will be necessary further to " illustrate this subject. It might bethought that, if axioms w»«re pro- " positions perfectly identical, it would be impossible to advance a step " by their means, beyond the simple ideas first perceived by the mind. " And it must be owned, if the-predicate of the proposition were nothing " but a repetition of the subject, under ihe t*aine aspect and in the same " or synonymous terms, po conceivable advantage could be mnde of it ' for the furtherance of knowledge. Of such propositions, for instance, " as these,—seven are seven, eight are eight, and ten added to eleven "are equal to ten added to eleven, it is manifest that-wh could never " avail ourselves for the improvement of science. Nor does the change ,{ of the term make any alteration in point of utility. The propositions, " twelve are a dozen, twenty are a s one another. With Mr. Locke, too, I nnj>t beg leave to guard myself against the possibili* ty of being misunderstood in the illustrations which i have offered ot some of his ideas: And for this purpose, I cannot do better than bor- row his words. " In all that is here suggested concerning the little use "of axioms for the improvement of knowledge, or dangerous use in " undetermined ideas, I have been far enough from saying or intend*- " ing they should be laid aside, as some have been too forward to charge "me. I affirm them to be truths, self-evident truths; and so cannot " be laid aside. As far as their influence will reach, it is in vain to " endeavour, nor would I attempt to abridge it. But yet, without any " injury to truth or knowledge, I may have reason to think their use is " not answerable to the great stress which seems lo be laid on them, " and I may warn men not to make an ill use of thern, for the confirm- " ing themselves in error."* After what has been just stated, it is scarcely necessary for me again to repeat, with regard to mathematical axioms that although they are not the principles of our reasoning, either in arithmetic or in geometry, their truth is supposed or implied iu all our reasonings in both; and if it were called in question, our further progress would be impossible. In both of these respects, we shall find them analogous to the other classes of primary or elementary truths which remain to be considered. Nor let it be imagined, from this concession, that the dispute turns, merely on the meaning annexed to the word principle It turns upon an important question of fact; Whether the theorems of geometry rest on the axioms, in the samp sense in which they rest on the definitions? or (to state the question in a manner still more obvious,) Whether ad- orns hold a place in geometry at all analogous to what is occupied in natural philosophy, by those sensible phenomena, which form the ba- sis of that science ? Dr. Reid compares them sometimes to the one set of propositions and sometimes to the other.t If the foregoing observa- tions be just, they bear no analogy to either. ♦Locke's Essay, Book IV. ch. vii. % 14. ■J- u Mathematics, once fairly established on the foundation of a few axioms and definitions, as upon a rock, has grown from age to age, so as to become the loftiest and ihe most solid fabric that human reason can boast.'*—Essays on Int. Powers^ p. 561, 4to edition. " Lord Bacon first delineated the only solid foundation on which natural philos- ophy can be built; and Sir Isaac Newton reduced the principles laid down by Ba- con into three or four axioms, which he calls regulae philosophandi- From theso, together with the phenomena observed by the senses, which he likewise lays down at, first principles, he deduces, by strict reasoning, the propositions con.ained in the third book of his Frincipia, and in his Optics ; and by this means has raised a fa- bric, which is not liable to be shaken by doubtful disputation, but stands immove- able on the basis of self-evident principles."—Ibid. See also pp. 64?\ 648, HCd. I.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 29 Into this distinctness of language, Dr Reid was probably led in part by Sir Isaac Newton, who, with a very illogical latitude in the use of words, gave the name of axiom to the laws of motion,* and also to those general experimental truths which form the ground-work of our general reasonings in catoptrics and dioptrics. For such a misapplica- tion of the technical terms of mathematics, some apology might perhaps be made if the author had been treating on any subject connected with moral science ; but surely, in a work entitled ' Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy," the word axiom might reasonably have been expected to be used in a sense somewhat analogous to that which eve- ry person liberally educated is accustomed to annex to it, when he is first initiated into the elements of geometry. The question to which the preceding discussion relates is of the great- er consequence, that the prevailing mistake, with respect to the nature of mathematical axioms, has contributed much to the support of a very erroneous theory concerning mathematical evidence, which is, I believe, pretty generally adopted at present,-—that it all resolves ultimately into the perception of identity; and that it is this circumstance which con* stilutes the peculiar and characteristical cogency of mathematical de- monstration. Of some of the other arguments which have been alleged in favour of this theory, I shall afterwards have occasion to take notice. At present, it is sufficient for me to remark, (and this 1 flatter myself I may venture to do with some confidence, after the foregoing reasonings) that in so far as it rests on the supposition that all geometrical truths are ul- timately derived from Euclid's axioms, il proceeds on an assumption totally unfounded in fact, and indeed so obviously false, that nothing but its antiquity can account for the facility with which it continues to be admitted by the learned.t *Axiomata, sive leges Motus. Vid. Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathemat. tea. At the beginning, too, of Newton's Optics, the title of axioms is given to the fol- lowing propositions: "AXIOM I. " The angles of reflection and refraction lie in one and the same place with the angle of incidence. '* AXIOM 11. "The angle of reflection is equal to the angle of incidence. "AXIOM HI. "If the refracted ray be turned directly back to the point of incidence, it shall be refracted into the line before described by the incident ray. " AXIOM IV. " Refraction out of the rarer medium into the denser, is made towards the per- pendicular, that is, so that the angle of refraction be less than the angle of inci- dence. " AXIOM V. "The sine of incidence is either accurately, or very nearly in a given ratio to the sine of refraction." When the w*rd axiom is understood by one writer in tli£ sense annexed to it by Euclid, and by his antagonist in the sense here given to it by 6ir Isaac Newton, it is not surprising that there should be apparently a wide diversity between their opinions concerning the logical importance of this class of proposition's. f A late Mathematician, of considerable ingenuity and learning, doubtful, it should seem, whether Euclid had laid a sufficiently broad foundation for mathe- 30 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chctp. J. SECTION I. II. Continuation of the same Subject The difference of opinion between Locke and Reid, of which I took notice in the foregoing part of this section, appears greater than it real- ly is, in consequence of an ambiguity in the word principle, as employed by the latter. In its proper acceptation, it seems to me to denote an assumption (whether resting on fact or on hypothesis,) upon which, aa a datum, a train of reasoning proceeds; and for the falsity or incorrect- ness of which no logical rigour in the subsequent process can compen- sate. Thus the gravity and the elasticity of the air are principles of reasoning in our speculations about the barometer. The equality of the angles of incidence and reflection; the proportionality of the sines of incidence and refraction; are principles of reasoning in catoptrics and in dioptrics. In a sense perfectly analogous to this, the definitions, of geometry (all of which are merely hypothetical) are theirs* principles of reasoning in the subsequent demonstrations, and the basis on which the whole fabric of the science rests. I have called this the proper acceptation of the word, because it is that in which it is most frequently used by the best writers. It is also most agreeable to the literal meaning which its etymology suggests, expressing the original point from which our reasoning sets out or com- mences. Dr. Reid often uses the word in this sense, as, for example, in the following sentence already quoted : " From three or four axioms, which "he calls regulae philosophandi, together with the phenomena observed "by the senses, which he likewise lays down as first principles, Newton "deduces, by strict reasoning, the propositions contained in the third " book of his Principia, and in his Optics." On other occasions, he uses the same word to denote those elemental truths (if I may use the expression,) which are virtually taken for grant- ed or assumed, in every step of our reasoning; and without which, al- though no consequences can be directly inferred from them, a train of reasoning would be impossible. Of this kind, in mathematics, are the axioms, or (as Mr. Locke and others frequently call them,) the maxims; malical science in the axioms prefixed to his Elements, has thought proper to in- troduce several new ones of his own invention. The first of these is, that " Eve- ry quantity is equal to itself;" to which he adds, afterwards, that "Aquantity expressed one way is equal to itself expressed any other way."—See Elements of Mathematical Analysis, by Professor VUant of St. Andrew's. We are apt to smile at the formal statement of these propositions; and yet, according to the theory alluded to in the text, it is in truths of this very description that the whole sci- ence of mathematics not only begins but ends. " Omnes mathemnticorum propo- sitiones sunt identicae,* et repraesentantur hac formula, a=a." This sentence, which I quote from a dissertation published at Berlin about fifty years ago, ex- presses, in a few words, what seems to be now the prevailing opinion, (more par- ticularly on the continent) concerning the nature of mathematical evidence. The remarks whieh I have to offer upon it I delay till some other questions shall be previously considered. SCCt. I.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 31 in physics, a belief of the continuance of the laws of nature j—in all our reasonings, without exception, a belief in our own identity, and in the evidence of memory. Such truths are the last elements into which reason- ing resolves itself, when subjected to a metaphysical analysis; and which no person but a metaphysician or a logician ever thinks of stating in the form of propositions, or even of expressing verbally to himself. It is to truths of this description that Locke seems in general to apply the name of maxims ; and, in this sense, it is unquestionably true, that no science (not even geometry) is founded on maxims as its first principles. In one sense of the word principle, indeed, maxims may be called principles of reasoning; for the words principles and elements are some- times used as synonymous. Nor do I take upon me to say that this mode of speaking is exceptionable. All that I assert is, that they can- not be called principles of reasoning, in the sense which has just now been defined; and that accuracy requires, that Ihe word, on which the whole question hinges, should not be used in both senses, in the course of the same argument. It is for this reason that I have employed the phrase principles of reasoning on the one occasion, and elements of rea- soning on the other. It is difficult to find unexceptionable language to mark distinctions so completely foreign to the ordinary purposes of speech; but, in the present instance, the line of separation is strongly and clearly drawn by this criterion,—that from principles of reasoning, consequences may be deduced; from what I have called elements of reasoning, none ever can. A process of logical reasoning has been often likened to a chain supporting a weight. If this similitude be adopted, the axioms or ele- mental truths now mentioned, may be compared to the successive con- catenations which connect the different links immediately with each other; the principles of our reasoning resemble the hook, or rather the beam, from which the whole is suspended. The foregoing observations, I am inclined to think, coincide with what was, at bottom, Mr. Locke's opinion on this subject. That he has not stated it with his usual clearness and distinctness, it is impossible to deny; at the same time, I cannot subscribe to the following severe crit- icism of Dr. Reid^ " Mr. Locke has observed,< That intuitive knowledge is necessary to connect all the steps of a demonstration.' " From this, I think, it necessarily follows, that in every branch of "knowledge, we must make use of truths that are intuitively known, in "order to deduoe from them such as require proof. " But I cannot reconcile this with what he says (section 8th of the •{ same chapter:) 'The necessity of this intuitive knowledge in every " step of scientifical or demonstrative reasoning, gave occasion, I ima- " gine, to that mistaken axiom, that all reasoning was ex praecognitis " et praeconcessis, which how far it is mistaken I shall have occasion to " show more at large, when I come to consider propositions, and par- u ticularly those propositions which are called maxims, and to show " that it is by a mistake that they are supposed to be the foundation of ci all our knowledge and reasonings."* * Essays on Int. Powers, p. 643 4to edit. 32 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. i. The distinction which I have already made between elements of rea- soning, zridfrst principles of reasoning, appears to mvielf to throw much light on these apparent contradictions. That the seeming difference of opinion on this point between these two profound writers, arose chiefly from the ambiguities of language, may be inferred from the following acknowledgment of Dr. Reid, which immediately follows the last quotation. " I have carefully examined the chapter on maxims, which Mr. Locke " here refers to, and though one would expect, from the quotation last •: made, that it should run contrary to what I have before delivered ,{ concerning first principles, I find only two or three sentences iu it, and " those chiefly incidental, to which I do not assent."* Before dismissing this subject, I must once more repeat, that the doc- trine whieh I have been attempting to establish, so far from degrading axioms from that rank which Dr. Reid would as«ign them, tends to iden- tify them still more than he has done with the exercise of our reasoning powers; in as much as, instead of comparing them with the data on the accuracy of which that of our conclusion necessarily depends, it con- siders them as the vincula which give coherence to all the particular links of the chain; or, (to vary the metaphor) as component elements, without which the faculty of reasoning is inconceivable and impossible.! » Ibid. fD'Alembert has defined the word principle exactly in the sense in which I have used it; and has expressed himself (at least on one occasion) nearly as I have done, on the subject of axioms, lie seems however on i his, as well as on some other logical and metaphysical questions, to have varied a little in his views (probably from mere fbrgetfulness,) in different parts of his writings. " What then are the truths which are entitled to have a place in the elements of philosophy ? They are of two kinds ; those which form the head ot each part ol the chain, and those which are to be found at the points where different ^ranches of the chain unite together. •c Truths of the first kind are distinguished by this—that they do not depend on any other truths, and that they possess within themselves the whole grounds of their evidence. Some of my readers will be apt to suppose, that I here mean to speak of axioms; but these are not the truths which I have at present in view. With re- spect to this last class of principles, I must refer to what 1 have elsewhere suid of them ; that, notwithstanding their truth, they add nothing to our information ; and that the palpable evidence which accompanies them, amount* to nothing more than to an expression of the same idea by means of two different terms. Un such occa- sions, the mind only turns to no purpose about its own axis, without advancing for- ward a single step. Accordingly, axioms are so far from holding the higheht rank in philosophy, that they scarcely deserve the distinction of being formally enunci- ated." " Or quelles sont les verites qui doivent entrer dans des elemens de philoso- phic ? II y en a de deux sortes; eel1 es qui foment la t6te de chaque par lie de la chaine, et celles qui se trouvent au point de reunion de plusieurs brandies " Les vetites du premier genre ont pour caractere distinctif de ne dependre d'aucune autre, et de n'avoir de preuves que dans elles-mdmes. Plusieurs Lcteurs croiront que nous voulons parler des axioms, ct ils se tromperont nous les reo- voyons a ce que nous en avons dit ailleurs, que ces sortes de principes ne nous ap- prennentrien a force d'etre vrais, etque leur Evidence palpable et grossi^re fce re*- duit i expnmer la mem6 idee par deux termes difffirens, Pesprit ne fait alors autre chose que tourner inutilement sur lui-meme sans avancer d'un seul pas. Ainsi lea axioms bien loin de tenir en philosophic le premier rang, n'ont pas meme besoin d'etre £nonc£s."—\Elim. de Phil. pp. 24, 25.] Sect. II.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 33 SECTION II. Of certain Laws of Belief, inseparably connected with the exercise of Conscious- ness, Memory, Perception, and Reasoning, 1. It is by the immediate evidence of consciousness that we are as- sured of the present existence of our various sensations, whether pleas- ant or painful : of all our affections, passions, hopes, fears, desires, and volitions. It is thus too we are a^uied of the present existence of those thoughts which, during; our waking hours, are continually passing through the mind, and <>f all the different effects which they produce in furnishing employment to our intellectual faculties According to the < -o-nmon doctrine of our best philosophers,* it is by ' the evidence of consciousness we are assured that we ourselves exist. The proposition, however, when thus stated, h not accurately true ; for our own existence (as I have elsewhere observed,)f is not a direct or immediate object of consciousness, in the strict and logical meaning of that term. We are conscious of sensation, thought, desire, volition; but we are not conscious of the existence of mind itself; nor would it be pos- sible for us to arrive at the knowledge of it (supposing us to be created in the full possession of all the intellectual capacities.which belong to human nature,) if no iinpres>ion were ever to be made on our external senses. The moment, that, in consequence of such an impression, a sen- sation is excited, we learn two facts at once ;—the existence of the sen- Although in the foregoing passage, D'Alembert, in compliance with common phraseology, has bestowed the name of prmcip es upon axioms, it appears clearly, from a question which occurs af.erwards, that he did not consider them as well entivled to t!»is appellation. " What are ihen," he asks,"in each science '.he true principles from whicii we ought to set out ?'' (" Quels sont done dans chaque sci- ence les vrais principes d'ou l'on doit partir V) The answer lie gives to this ques- tion agrees with the doctrine I have stated in every particular, excepting in *.his, that it represents, (and in my opinion very incorrectly) the principles of geome- trical science to be (not definitions or hypotheses, but) those simple and acknow- ledgetl facts, which our senses perceive'with respect to the properties of extension. " The true principles from which we ought to set out in the diffe ent sciences, are simple and acknowledged facts, which do not presuppose the existence of any others, and which, of course, it is< quaily vain to attempt explaining or confuting ; in physics, the familiar phenomena which daily experience presents to every eye, in geometry, the sensible properties of extension ; in mechanics, the impenetrability of bodies, upon which their mutual aciions depend; in metaphysics, the results of our sensations ; in morals, the o-iginal and common affections of the human race."__["Les vrais principes d'ou lVn doit partir dans chuqiie science, sont des faits simples et reconnus,quin'en supposent point d'autres, es qu'on ne puissc par consequent ni expliquer nicontester ; en physique, les phenomenes journahers que l'observation decouvre a tous les yeux ; en ge'ometrie, les propriitis sensibles de Petendue ; en mechanique, l'lmpSnetrabihte des corps, source de leur action mutuelle ; en melaphysique, le rgsultatde nos sensations ; en morale, les affec- tions premieres et communes a tous les hommes."—pp. 26, 27.] In cases of this sort, where so much depends on extreme precision and nicety in the use of words, it appears to me to be proper to verify the fidelity of my transla- tions by subjoining the original passages. * See, in particular, Campbell's Philosophy of Rhetoric. ■J-Philosophical Essays, p. 7. VOL. II. 5 51 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. I. sation, and our own existence as sentient beings ;—in other words, the very first exercise of consciousness necessarily implies a belief, not only of the present existence of what is felt, but of the present existence of that which feels and thinks ; or, (to employ plainer language) the pre- sent existence of that being which I denote by the words 7 and myself. Of these facts, however, it is the former alone of which we can properly be said to be conscious, agreeably to the rigorous interpretation of the expression. A conviction of the latter, although it seems to be so inse- parable from the exercise of consciousness, that it can scarcely be con- sidered as posterior to it in the order of time, is yet (if 1 may be allowed to make use of a scholastic distinction) posterior to it in the order of nature; not only as it supposes consciousness to be already awakened by some sensation, or some other mental affection ; but as it is evident- ly rather a judgment accompanying the exercise of that power, than one of its immediate intimations concerning its appropriate class of in- ternal phenomena. It appears to me, therefore, more correct to call the belief of our own existence a concomitant or accessory of the exer- cise of consciousness, than to say, that our existence is a fact falling ander the immediate cognizance of consciousness, like the. existence of the various agreeable or painful sensations which external objects ex- cite in our minds. 2. That we cannot, without a very blameable latitude in the use of words, be said to be conscious of our personal identity, is a proposition still more indisputable ; in as much as the very idea of personal identi- ty involves the idea of time, and consequently presupposes the exercise not only of consciousness, but of memory. The belief connected with this idea is implied in every thought and in every action of the mind, and may bejustly regarded as one of the simplest and most essential ele- ments of the understanding. Indeed it is impossible to conceive either an intellectual or an active being to exist without it. It is, however, ex- tremely worthy of remark, with respect to this belief, that, universal as it is among our species, nobody but a metaphysician ever thinks of Ex- pressing it in words, or of reducing into the shape of a preposition, the truth to which it relates. To the rest of mankind, it forms not an ob- ject of knowledge ; but a condition or supposition, necessarily and un- consciously involved in the exercise of all their faculties. On a part of our constitution, which is obviously one of the last or primordial ele- ments at which it is possible to arrive in analyzing our intellectual ope- rations, it is plainly unphilosophical to suppose, that any new light can be thrown by metaphysical discussion. All that can be done with pro- priety, in such cases, is to state the fact. And here, I cannot help taking notice of the absurd and inconsistent attempts which some ingenious men have made, to explain the gradual process by which they suppose the mind to be led to the knowledge of its own existence, and of that continued identity which our constitution leads us to ascribe to it. How (it has been asked) does a child come to form the very abstract and metaphysical idea expressed by the pro- noun lor moi ? In answer to this question, I have only to observe, that when we set about the explanation of a phenomena, we must proceed on the supposition that it is possible to resolve it into some more general law or laws with which we are already acquainted. But, in the case SCCt. II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 35 before us, how can this be expected by those, who consider that all our knowledge of mind is derived from the exercise of reflection; and that every act of this power implies a conviction of our own existence as re- flecting and intelligent beings ? Every theory, therefore, which pretends to account for this conviction, must necessarily involve that sort of paralogism which logicians call a petitio firincipii ; in as much as it must resolve the thing to be explained into some law or laws, the evi- dence of which rests ultimately on the assumption in question. From this assumption, which is necessarily implied in the joint exercise of consciousness and memory, the philosophy of the human mind, if we mean to study it analytically, must of necessity set out; and the very attempt to dig deeper for its foundation, betrays a total ignorance of the logical rules, according to which alone it can ever be prosecuted with any hopes of success. It was, I believe, first remarked by Mr. Prevost of Geneva, (and the remark, obvious as it may appear, reflects much honor on his acute- nessand sagacity) that the inquiries concerning the mind, founded on the hypothesis of the animated statue—inquiries which both Bonnet and Condillac professed to carry on analytically—were in truth altogether synthetical. To this criticism it may be added, that their inquiries, in so far as they had for their object to explain the origin of our belief of our own existence, and of our personal identity, assumed, as the prin- ciples of their synthesis, facts at once less certain and less familiar than the problem which they were employed to resolve. Nor is it to the metaphysician only, that the ideas of identity and of personality are familiar. Where is the individual who has not experi- enced their powerful influence over his imagination, while he was em- ployed iu reflecting on the train of events which have filled up the past history of his life ; and on that internal, world, the phenomena of which have been exposed to his own inspection alone ? On such an occasion, even the wonders of external nature seem comparatively insignificant; and one is tempted (with a celebrated French writer) in contemplating the spectacle of fhe universe, to adopt the words of the Doge of Genoa when he visited Versailles—" Ce qui m'etonne le plus ici, e'est de m*y voir.''* 3. The belief which all men entertain of the existence of the material world, (I mean their belief of its existence independently of that of percipient beings,) and their expectation of the continued uniformity of the laws of nature, belong to the same class of ultimate or elemental laws of thought with those which have been just mentioned The truths which form their objects are of an order so radically different from what are commonly called truths, in the popular acceptation of that word, that it might perhaps be useful for logicians to distinguish them by some appropriate appellation, such for example, as that of metaphysical or transcendental truths. They are not principles or data (as will after- wards appear) from which any consequence can be deduced : but form a part of those original stamina of human reason, which are equally es- sential to all the pursuits of science, and to all the active concerns of life. 4- I shall only take notice farther, under this head, of the confidence * D'Alembert, Apologie de l'Etude, 36 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. I. which we rnu-t necessarily repose in ihe evidence of memory, (and, I may add, m trie continuance of our personal identity) when we are em- ployed in carrying on any process of deduction or argumentation ;— in following out. for instance, the steps of a long mathematical demon- stration. In yielding our ass-nt to the conclusion to which such a de- monstration leads we evidently trust to the fidelity with which our memory has conn** ted the*different links of the chain together The referen e which is often made, in the course of a demonstration, to pro- pos>tions form rly proved, places the same remark in a light still strong. er ; and shews plainly that, in this branch of knowledge, which is ju-tly considered as the most certain of any the authority of the sumo laws of b-lief which are recognised in the ordinary pursuits of lile, is tacitly ac- knowledged. Deny the evidence of memory as a ground of certain knowledge, and you destroy the foundations of mathem tical science as completely as if you were to deny the truth of the axioms assumed by Euclid. J The foregoing examples suffi iently illustrate the nature of that class of truths whi h I have called Fundamental Laws of Human Belief, or Primary Elements of'niman Reason. A variety of others, not less im- portant, might be added to the list ;* bt these I shall not at present stop to enumerate, as my chief object, in introducing the subje.t here, was to explain the common relation in which they alL.gtand to deductive evidence. In this point of view, two analogies, or rather coincidences, between the truths which we have been last considering, and the math- ematical axioms which were treated of formerly, immediately present themselves to our notice. 1. From neither of these classes of tru'hs can any direct inference he drawn for the farther enlargement of our knowledge. This remark has been already shown to hold universally with respect to the axioms of qeometry ; and it applies equally to what I have called Fundamental Laws of Human Belief. From such propositions as these,—I exist, I an the same person to-day that I was yesterday ; the material wvrld has an existence independent of my mind ; the general laws of nature will con- tinue, in future, to operate uniformly as in time past,—no inference can be deduced, any more than from the intuitive truths prefixed to the Elements of Fuclid. Abstracted from other data, they are perfectly barren in themselves ; nor can any possible combination of them help the mind forward, one single step, in its progress. It is for this reason, that instead of calling them, with some other writers, first principles, I have distinguished them by the title of fundamental laws of belief ; the former word seeming to me to denote, according to common usage, some fact, or some supposition^ from which a series of consequences may be deduced. If the account now given of these laws of belief he just, the great ar- gument which has been commonly urged iu support of their authority, and which manifestly confounds them with what are propprly called princifiles of reasoning,t is not at all applicable to the subject; orat * Such, for example, as our belief of the existence of efficient causes ; our belief of the existence of other intelligent beings besides ourselves, 8cc. &.c. f A isto'le himself has more than once made this remark ; more pariicularly, in discussing the absurd question, Whether it be possible for the same thing to Sect. II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 37 least does not rest the point in dispute upon ils right foundation. If there were no first principles (it has been said) or, iu other words, if a reason could be given for every thing, no process of deduction could pos- sibly be brought to a conclusion. The remark is indisputably true ; but it only proves (what no logician of the present times will venture to deny) that the mathematician could not demonstrate a single theo rem, unless he were first allowed to lay down his definitions ; nor the natural philosopher explain or account for a single phenomenon, unless he were allowed lo assume, as acknowledged facts, certain general laws of nature What inference does this afford in favour of that par- ticular class of truths to which the preceding observations relate, and against which the ingenuity of modem sceptics has been more particu- larly directed ? If I be not deceived, these truths are still more intimate- ly connected with the operations of the reasoning faculty than has been generally imagined ; not as the principles (xp%xi) from which our reasonings set out, and on which they ult.rnately depend ; but as the ne- cessary conditions on which every step of the deduction tacitly proceeds; or rather, (if I may use the expression) as essential elements which en- ter into the composition of reason itself. 2. In this last remark I have antijipated, in some measure, what I had to state with respect to the second coincidence alluded to, between mathematical axioms, and the other propositions which I have compre- hended under the general title of fundamental, laws of human belief.— As the truth of axioms is virtually presupposed or implied in the suc- cessive steps of every demonstration, so, in every step of our reasonings concerning the order of Nature, we proceed on the supposition, that the laws by which it is regulated will continue uniform as in time past; and that the material univer.e has an existence independent of our per- ceptions, I need scarcely add, lhat, in all our reasonings whatever, whether they relate lo necessary or to contingent truths, our own person- al identity and the evidence of memory are virtually taken for granted. These different truths all agree in this, that they are essentially involved in the exercise of our rational powers ; although, in themselves, they furnish no principles or data by which the sphere of our knowledge can, by any ingenuity, be enlarged. They agree farther in being tacit- be and not to be ? x\iovo*i $e xxi rovro X7ro$eixvvvxi Tive$ Si xvxiStvv- ixv, to-ri yxp xirxi$ev newly invent- ed method of Fluxions, created, in the public mind, a strong prejudice against him, as a sophistical and paradoxical disputant; and operated as a more powerful antidote to the scheme of immaterialism, than all the reasonings which his con- temporaries were able to oppose to it. This unfavourable impression was afterwards not a little confirmed, by the ridicule which he incurred in consequence of his pamphlet on the Virtues of Tar-water; a perfovmance, however, of which it is but justice to add, that it contains a great deal more, both of sound philosophy and of choice learning, than could have been expected from the subject. f Philosophical Essays, Note E. That Clarke would look upon the Berkeleian theory with more than common feelings of suspicion and alarm, maybe easily conceived, when it is recollected that, by denying the independent existence both of space and of time, it put an end at once to his celebrated argument a priori, for the existence of God. vol. ir. 6 42 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. I. " reductio ad absurdum, of ihe unsoundness of the ideal theory, on " which the whole of your argument is built ?"• 1 am far from supposing that Berkeley would have admitted this con- sideration as de. isive of the point in disput-. On the contrary, it ap- pears from his writings, that the scheme of immaterialism was, in his opinion, more agreeable to popular belief, than the received theories of philosophers concerning the independent existence of the external world ; nay, that he considered it as one of the many advantages likely to re- sult from the universal adoption of his system, that " men would there- by " be reduced from paradoxes to common sense." The question, however, if not decided by this discussion, would at least have been brought to a short and simple issue ; for the paramount authority of the common sense or common reason of mankind being equally recognized by both parties, all that remained for their examina- tion was,—whether the belief of the existence, or that of the non-exist- ence of matter, was sanctioned by this supreme tribunal ? For ascer- taining this point, nothing more was necessary than an accurate analy- sis of the meaning annexed to the word existence: which analysis would have at once shown, not only that we are irresistibly led to ascribe to the material world all the independent reality which this word expres- ses, but that it is from the material world that our first and most satis- factory notions of existence are drawn. The mathematical affections of matter (extension and figure) to which the constiiution of the mind im- periously forces us to ascribe an existence, not only independent of our perceptions, but necessary and eternal, might more particularly have been pressed upon Berkeley, as proofs how incompatible his notions were with those laws of belief, to which the learned and the unlearned must in common submit.t But farther, (in order to prevent any cavil about the foregoing illus- tration,) we shall suppose that Clarke had anticipated Hume in per- ceiving that ihe ideal theory went to the annihilation of mind as well as of matter ; and that he had succeeded in proving, to the satisfaction of Berkeley, that nothing existed iu the univer-e but impassions and ideas. Is it possible to imagine that Berkeley would not immediately have seen and acknowledged, thai a theory which led to a conclusion directly contradicted by the evidence of consciousness ought not, out of • I acknowledge, very readily, that the force of this indirect mode of reasoning is essentially different in mathematics, from what it is in the other branches of knowledge; for the object of mathematics (as will afterwards more fully appear,) not being truth, but systematical connexion and consistency, whenever two contra. dictory propositions occur,embracinjr evidently the only possible suppositions, on the point in question, if the one can be shown to be incompatible with the defini- tions or hypotheses on which the science is founded, this may be regarded as per- fectly equivalent to a direct proof ot the leg.umacy of the opposite conclusion — In the other sciences, the force of a reductio ad abswdum depends entirely on the maxim, "That truth is always consistent with itself;'' a maxim which, however certain, rests evidently on grounds of a more abstract and metaphysical naiure than the indirect demonstrations of geometry. It is a maxim, at the same time, to which the most sceptical writers have not been able to refuse iheir testimony. " Truth (says Mr. Hume himself) is one thing, but errors are numberless, and eve- ry man has a different one." The unity, or systematical consistency of truth, is a subject which well deserves to be fur her prosecuted. It involves many important consequences,ol which Mr. Hume does not, from the general spirit of his philosophy, seem to have been soffi- ciently aware. t See Note (B.) sect, in.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 43 respect to ancient authority, to be rashly admitted: and that, in the present instance, it was much more philosophical to argue from the con- clusion against the hypothesis, than to argue from the hypothesis in proof of the conclusion ? No middle course, it is evident, was left hirn between such an acknowledgment, and an unqualified acquiescence in those very doctrines which it was the great aim of his system to tear up by the roots. The two chief objections which I have heard urged against this mode of defence, are not perfectly consistent with each other. The one re- presents it as a presumptuous and dangerous innovation in the establish- ed rules of philosophical controversy, calculated to stifle entirely a spi- rit of liberal inquiry; while the other charges its authors with all the meanness and guilt of literary plagiarism. I shall offer a few slight remarks upon each of these accusations. 1. That the doctrine in question is not a new one, nor even the lan- guage in which it has been recently stated an innovation in the receiv- ed phraseology of logical science, has been shown by Dr. Reid, in a collection of very interesting quotations, which may be found in differ- ent parts of his Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, more parti- cularly in the second chapter of the sixth essay. Nor has this doctrine been generally rejected even by those writers who, in their theories, have departed the farthest from the ordinary opinions of the world.— Berkeley has sanctioned it in the most explicit manner, in a passage al- ready quoted from his works, in which he not only attempts the extra- ordinary task of reconciling the scheme of immaterialism with the com- mon sense of mankind, but alleges the very circumstance of its con- formity to the unsophisticated judgment of the human race, as a strong argument in its favour, when contrasted with the paradoxical doctrine of the independent existence of matter. The ablest advocates, too, for the necessity of human actions, have held a similar language ; exerting their ingenuity to show, that there is nothing in this tenet which does not perfectly accord with our internal consciousness, when our suppos- ed feelings of liberty, with all their concomitant circumstances, are ac- curately analyzed, and duly weighed.* In this respect, Mr. Hume forms almost a solitary exception, avowing with the greatest frankness, the complete repugnance between his philosophy and the laws of be- lief to which all men are subjected by the constitution oftheir nature. " I dine; I play a game at backgammon ; I converse, and am happy " with my friends ; and when, after three or four hours of amusement, " I would return to these speculations, they appear so cold, so strained, " and so ridiculous, that I cannot find in my heart to enter into them any " further. Here, then, I find myself absolutely and necessarily deter- * This I own, appears to me the only argument for the scheme of necessity, which deserves a moment's consideration, in the present state of the controversy : and it is certainly possible to state it in such a form as to give it some degree of plausibility to a superficial inquirer. On this point, however, as on many others, our first and third thoughts will be found perfectly to coincide; a more careful and profound examination of the question infallibly bringing back to their natural impressions, those who reflect on the subject with candour and with due atten- tion. Having alluded to so very important a controversy, I could not help throw- ing out this hint here. The farther prosecution of it would be altogether foreign to my present purpose. 44 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. L " mined to live, and talk, and act, like other people in the common af- "fairs of life."* Even Mr Hume himself, however, seems at limes to forget hi« scep- tical theories, and sanctions, hy his own authority, not only ihe -ame logical maxims, but the s.une mode of expressing them, which has been so severely censured in M>me of tiN opponents. " Those (he ob.-erves) who have refused the realitv or moral distinc- " tions, may be ranked among the disingenuous disputants. The only " way of converting an antagonist of this kind, is. to leave him to him- " self: for finding that nobody keeps up the controversy with him, 'tis " probable he will ut lust, of himself, from mere weariness, come over " to the side of common sense and reason, "t To the authorities which have been already produced by Reid and his successors, in vindication of that mode of arguing which is now un- der our review, I shall beg leave to add another, which, ns far as I know. has not yet been remarked hy any of them • and which, while it effec- tually removes from it the imputation of novelty, states in • lear and forcible terms, the grounds of that respect to which il is entitled, even in those cases where it is opposed by logical subtleties which setm to baffle all our powers of reasoning. " What i- it (said some of the ancient sophists) which constitute " what we call little, much, long, broad, small, or great?—Do three " grains of corn make a heap? The answer must be—No. Do four " grains make a heap? You must make the same answer as bpfore — " They continued their interrogations from onp grain to another, with* "out end ; and if you should happen at last to answer, here is a heap, " they pretended your answer was absurd, in as much as it supposed, "that one single grain mikes the difference between what is a heap, " and what is not I might prove, by the same method, that a great " drinker is never drunk Will one drop of wine fuddle him ? No. Two "drops, then? By no means; neither three nor four. I might thus " contiine my interrogations from one drop to another; and if, at the '** end of the 999ih drop, you answered, he is not fuddled, and at the '• 1000th he is, I should be entitled to infer, that one single drop of " wine makes the difference between being drunk and being sober ; " which is absurd. If the interrogations went on from bottle to bottle, "you could easily mark the difference in question. But he who at- " tacks you with a sorites, is at liberty to choose his own weapons ; and, " by making use of the smallest conceivable increments, renders it im- " possible for you to name a precise point which fixes a sensible limit " between being drunk and being sober; between what is little and " what is great ; between what is enough and what is too much. A " man of the world would laugh at these sophistical quibbles, and would " appeal to common sense ; lo that degree of knowledge which, in cora- " mon life i- sufficient to enable us to establi&h such distinctions. But " to this tribun-.il a professed dialectician was not permitted to resort; ••' he was obliged to answer in form ; and if unable to find a solution ac- * Treatise of Human Nature, Vol. I. p. 467. -J- Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals. SCCt. III.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 45 " cording to the rules of art, his defeat was unavoidable. Even at this "day, an Irish tutor,* who should harass a professor of Salamanca with " si -liar subtleties, and should receive no other answer but this,—com- " mon sense, and the general consent cf mankind, sufficiently show that " your inferences are fake,—would gain the victory; his antagonist ha- " vingde. lined todelend himself with those logical weapons with which '■ the assault had been made.'* Had the foregoing passage been read to the late Dr. Priestly, while he was employed in combating the writings of Reid, Oswald, and Beat- tie, he would, I apprehend, without hesitation, have supposed it to be the production of une oftheir disciples. The fact is, it is a tianslation fro Mr Bayle, an author who was never accused of an undue defer- ence for established opinions, and who was himself undoubtedly one of the most subtile disputants of modern times.t From this quotation it clearly appears, not only lhat the substance of the doctrine maintained by these philosophers is of a much earlier date than their writings ; but that, in adopting the phrase common sense, to express that standard or criterion of truth to whuh they appealed, they did not depart from the language previously in use among the least dog- matical oftheir predecessors. In the passage just quoted from Bayle, that passion for disputation which in modern Europe has so often subjected the plainest truths to the tribunal of metaphysical discussion, is. with great justness, traced to the unlimited influence which the school logic maintained for so many ages over the understandings of the learned. And although, since the period when Bayle wrote, this influence has every where most remark- ably declined, it has yet left traces behind itr in the habits of thinking and judging, prevalent among speculative men, which are but too dis- cernable in all the branches of science connected with the philosophy of the mind. In illustration of this remark, it would be easy to produce a copious list of examples from the literary history of the eighteenth century ; but the farther prosecution of the subject here would lead me aside from the conclusions which 1 have at present in view I shall therefore content myself with opposing, to the contentious and scepti- cal spirit bequeathed by the schoolmen to their successors, the follow- ing wise and cautious maxims of their master,—maxims which, while they illustrate his anxiety to guard the principles of the demonstrative sciences against the captiousness of sophists, evince the respect winch * It is remarkable of this ingenious, eloquent, and gallant nation, that it has been for ages distinguished, in the universities on the continent, for its profi- ciency in the school logic, Le Sage 'who seems to have had a very just idea of the value of this accomplishment) alludes to this feature in the lush character, in the account given by Gil Bias of his studies at Oi iedo. "Je m'appl.quai aussi a la logique, qui m'apprit a raisonner beaucoup. J'wimois tant la depute, que j'arretoi- les passans, coimus ou inconnus, pour leur proposer des argumens. Je m'addressois quelquefois a des figures Htbemoises, qui ne deniandoient pas mieux, et il falloit alors nous voir disputer. Quels ges'.es, quelles grimaces, quel- les contorsions ! nos yeux eioient pleins de. fureur, et nos bouches ecumantes. On nous devoit plutot prendre pour des possedes que pour des piiilosophes. -"•see Bayle's Dictionary, iirticle Chrysippe. I have ava led myself, in ihe above translation (with a few retrenchments and corrections,) of that which is given in the English Biographical and Critical Dictionary. 46 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. I, heconceived to be due by the philosopher to the universal reason of the human race. ^ " Those things are to be regarded as fist truths, the credit of which is not derived from other truths, but is inherent in themselves. As for probable truths, they are such as are admitted by all men, or by "generality of men, or by wise men ; and, among these last, either by "all the wise, or by the generality of the wise, or by such of the wise "-as are of the highest authority."* The argument from universal consent, on which so much stress ii laid by many of the ancients, is the same doctrine with the foregoing, under a form somewhat different. It is stated wilh great simplicity and force by a Platonic philosopher, in the following sentences: " In such a contest, and tumult, and disagreement, (about other roat- " lers of opinion) you may see this one law and language ackuowledg- " ed by common accord-----This the Greek says, and this the barba- "rian says; and the inhabitant of the continent, and the islander ; and " the wise and the unwise.'*! It cannot be denied, that against this summary species of logic, when employed without any collateral lights, as an infallible touchstone of philosophical truth, a strong objection immediately occurs By what test (it may be asked) is a principle of common sense to be distingushed from one of those prejudices to which the whole human race are irre- sistibly led, in the first instance, by the very constitution oftheir nature ? If no test or criierion or truth can be pointed out but universal consent) may not all those errors wliich Bacon has called idola tribus, claim a right to admission among the incontrovertible axioms of science ? And might not the popular cavils against the supposition of the earth's mo- tion, which so long obstructed the progress of the Copernican system, have been legitimately opposed, as a reply of paramount authority, to all the scientific reasonings by which it was supported ? It is much to be wished that this objection, of which Dr. Reid could not fail to be fully aware, had been more particularly examined and dig- cussed in some of his publications, than he seems to have thought neces- sary. From different parts of his works, however, various important hints towards a satisfactory answer to it might be easily collected. J At present, I shall only remark, that although universality of belief is one of the tests by which (according to him) a principle of common sense is characterized, it is not the only test which he represents as essential. Long before his time, Father Buffier, in his excellent treatise on First * Eo-ti St xXytv ft£» xxi vrpttrx, rx fen Si input, xXXx Si xvrut s%ovtx td» jtio-tiv. EtSo%x Se, rx Ssuovitx ?rxo-ivt jj Ttif irXtio-Toif, rj roii ro^oif xxi tovtois, jj tois irxo-ii, j> Ton TXtio-Ttn. Toif ftxXicrm yiapifiois j£ t*So$ols. Arist. Top Lib. 1. cap. i. (Vol. I. p. 180, ed. Du Val.) t Ev Totrovroj Se TeXtft,u xj r«o*i< x} SixQwuu. six iStis x* 11 ***•«■ ■y* ifJLtpos/iof vofiov x) Xoyot, &C. Txvrx St 0 '£AA«f Xtyti, xj 0 Bxp- Pxpos Xtyn, j£ 0 iTeiparv',, x} « QxXxTTiof, x** 0 vof •(, *«< • *o<. —Max. Tyr. (speaking of the existence of the Deity) Dis. 1. " Una in re consensio omnium gentium lex naturae putanda est.—Cic. 1 Tusc. " -Vultum dare solemfls praesumptioni omnium !n,minum : Apud nos vernatis argumentum est, aliquid omnibus videri," &c. &c—Sen. Lp. 117. i See in particular, Essays on the Int. Powers, p. 565. et seq.4to.edit. sect, in.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 47 Truths, had laid great stress on two other circumstances, as criteria to be attended to on such occasions ; and although I do not recollect any passage in Reid where they are so explicitly stated, yet the general spirit of his reasonings plainly shows, that he had them constantly in view in ail the practical applications of his doctrine. The first criterion mentioned by Buffier is, " That the truths assumed as maxims of com- " mon sense should be such, that it is impossible for any disputant either " to defend or to attack them, but by means of propositions which are " neither more manifest nor more certain than the propositions in " question." The second criterion is, " That their practical influence " should extend even to those individuals who affect to dispute their " authority." To these remarks of Buffier, it may not be altogether superfluous to add, that, wherever a prejudice is found to obtain universally among mankind in any stage of society, this prejudice must have some founda- tion in the general principles of our nature, and must proceed upon some truth or fact inaccurately apprehended, or erroneously applied. The suspense of judgment, therefore, which is proper with respect to particular opinions, till they be once fairly examined, can never justify scepticism with respect to the general laws of the human mind. Our belief of the sun's motion is not a conclusion to which we are necessa- rily led by any such law, but an inference rashly drawn from the per- ceptions of sense, which do not warrant such an inference. All that we see is, that a relative change of position between us and the sun takes place; and this fact, which is made known to us by our senses, no subsequent discovery of philosophy pretends to disprove. It is not, therefore, the evidence of perception which is overturned by the Co- pernican system, but a judgment or inference of the understanding, of the rashness of which every person must be fully sensible, the moment he is made to reflect with due attention on the circumstances of the case ; and the doctrine which this system substitutes instead of our first crude apprehensions on the subject, is founded, not on any process of reason- ing a priori, but on the demonstrable inconsistency of these apprehen- sions with the various phenomena which our perceptions present to us. Had Copernicus not only asserted the stability of the Sun, but, with some of the sophists of old, denied that any such thing as motion exists in the universe, his theory would have been precisely analogous to that of the non-existence of matter ; and no answer to it could have been thought of more pertinent and philosophical, than that which Plato is said to have given to the same paradox in the mouth of Zeno, by rising up and walking before his eyes. 2. If the foregoing observations be just, they not only illustrate the coincidence between Dr. Reid's general argument against thosffmeta- physical paradoxes which revolt common sense, and the maxims of phi- losophical discussion previously sanctioned by our soundest reasoners; but they go far, at the same time, to refute that charge of plagiarism in which i.e has been involved, in common with two other Scottish writers, who have made their stand in opposition to Berkeley and Hume, nearly on the same ground. This charge has been stated in all its force, in the preface to an English translation of Buffier's Premieres Verites, printed at London in the year l?80; and it cannot be denied, that some of the proofs alleged in its support are not without plausibility. But 48 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap, I. why suppose Reid to have b. rrowed from this learned Jesuit, a mode of arguing which has been familiar to men in all ages of the w«.ri(l • ;md to which, long before the publication of Huffier s excellent book, the very same phtaseology had been applied by numberless other authors. On this point, the pa;sage already quoted from Bayle is of itseil deci- sive. The truth is, it is a mode of arguing likely to nrcur to every sin- cere and enlightened inquirer, when bewildered by sc pti al sophistry ; and whi h, during the long interval between the publcition of the Berkltian theory, and that of Keid's Inquiry, was the only tenable post on which the conclusions of the former could be combated After the length to which Hie logical consequences of the same principles were subsequently pushed in the Trea'ise of Human Nature, this must have appeared completely manifest lo all who were aware ol the irresistible force of the argument, as it is there stated ; and, in fact, this very ground was taken asearlyas the year 1751, in a private correspondence with Mr. Hume, by an intimate friend of his own, for who>e judgment, both on phi.osophi al and literary subjects, he >eems to ha\e felt a pe- culiar deference.* I mention thio, as a proof that the doctrine in ques- tion was the natur. I result of the state of science at the period when Reid appeared ; and, consequently, that no argument against Ids origi- nality in adopting il, can reasonably be founded on its coincidence with the views of any preceding author. A still more satisfactory reply to the charge of plagiarism may lie de- rived from this consideiation, that, iu Buffier's Treatise, the doctrine which has furnished the chief ground of accusation is stated with far greater precision and distinctness than in Dr. Reid\s^r.»7 publication on the Human Mind ; and that, in his subsequent performances, after he had perused the writings of Buffier, his phraseology became considera- bly more guarded and consistent than before. If this observation be admitted iu the case of Dr. Reid, it will be fou.id to apply with still greater force to Dr. Beattie, whose language, in various parts of his book, is so loose and unsettled, as to afford de- monstrative proof that it was not from Buffier he derived the idea of his general argr-ment. In confirmation of this, I s*hall only mention the first chapter of the first part of his Essay, in which he attempts to draw the line between common sense and reason; evidently confounding (as many other authors of high reputation have done) the two very differ- ent words, reason and reasoning His account of common sense, in the following passage, is liable to censure in almost every line : " The term " common sense hath, in modern times, been used by philosophers, both ••' French and British, to signify that power of the mind which perceives •* truth, or commands belief, not by progressive argumentation, but by " ailftftstantaneous instinctive, and irresistible impulse; derived neither -• from education nor from habit, but from nature ; acting independent- " ly on our will, whenever its object is presented according to au estab- " lished law, and therefore properly called sense/1- and acting in a simi- * See Note (C.) f The doctrine of the schoolmen (revived in later times under a form somewhat modifi d by Locke-,) winch refers lo sensation ihe originofall our ideas, has given rise to a very unwarrantable extension of the word sense, in the writings of sect, in.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 49 " Iar manner upon all, or at least upon a great majority of mankind, and " therefore properly called common sense."* li Reason," on the other hand (we are told by the same author) "is " used by those who are most accurate in distinguishing, to signify, that " power of the human mind by which we draw inferences, or by which " we are convinced that a relation belongs to two ideas, on account of " our having found that these ideas bear certain relations to other ideas. " In a word, it is that faculty which enables us, from relations or ideas "that are known, to investigate such as are unknown; and without " which we never could proceed in the discovery of truth a single step l< beyond first principles or intuitive axioms.*'t " It is in this last sense " (he adds) that we are to use the word reason in the course of this in- " quiry." These two passages are severely, and, I think, justly animadverted on, in the preface to the English translation of Buffer's book, where they are contrasted with the definition of common sense given by that profound and original philosopher. From this definition it appears, that, far from opposing common sense and reason to each-otfier, he considers them either as the same faeultj, or as faculties ve- essarily and inseparably connected together " It is a faculty (he says) which ap- " pears in all men, or at least in the far greater number of them, when " they have arrived at the age of reason, enabling them to form a com- " mon and uniform judgment, on subjects essentially connected with "the ordinary concerns of life." modern philosophers. W hen it was first asserted, that " there is nothing in the intellect which does not come to it through the medium of sense," there cannot be a doubt that, by this last term, were understood exclusively our powers of ex- ternal perception. In process of time, however, it came to be discovered, that there are many ideas which cannot possibly be traced to this source ; and which, ef consequence, afford undeniable proof that the scholastic accoun" of the origin of our ideas is extremely imperfect. Such was certainly the logical inference to which these discoveries should have led ; but, instead of adopting it, philosophers have, from the first, shown a disposition to save, as much as possible, the credit of the maxims in which they have been educated, by giving to the word sense so 'great a latitude of meaning, as to comprehend all the various sources of our sim- Iple ideas, whatever these sources may be. " All the ideas (says Dr. Hutcheson) "or the materials of our reasoning and judging, are received by some immediate powers of perception, internal or external, which we may call senses''' Under the title of internal senses, accordingly, many writers, particularly of the medical profession, continue to this day to comprehend memory and imagination, and oth- er faculties, both intellectual and active. (Vid. Haller, Element. Physiologies, Lib. xvii.) Hence also the phrases moral sense, the senses of beauty and harmony, and many of the other peculiarities of Dr. Hutcheson's language : a mode of speaking which was afterwards carried to a much more blameable excess by Lord Kaimes. Dr. Beattie, in the passage quoted above, has indirectly given his sanction to the same abuse of words ; plainly supposing the phrase, common sense not only to mean something quite distinct from reason, but something which bears so close an analogy to the powers of external sense, as to be not improperly called by the same name. * Essay on Truth, p. 40. 2d edit. f Essay on Truth, pp. 36,37,2d edit VOL. II. 7 50 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. 1. That this contrast turns out greatly to the advantage of Buflier,* must, I think, be granted to his very acute and intelligent translator. But while I make this concession in favour of his statement, 1 must be allow- ed to add, that in the same proportion iu which Dr. Beattie falls short of the clearness and logical accuracy of his predecessor, he ought to stand acquitted, in the opinion of all men of candour, of every suspi- cion of a dishonourable plagiarism from his writings. It is the doctrine itself, however, and not the comparative merits of its various abettors, that is likely to interest the generality of philosophi- cal students; and as I have always thought lhat this has suffered con- siderably in the public estimation, in consequence of the statement of it given in the passage just quoted from the Essay on Truth, I shall avail myself of the present opportunity to remark, how widely that statement differs from the language, not only of Buffier, but of the author's con- temporary and friend, Dr. Reid. This circumstance I think it necessary to mention, as it seems to have been through the medium of Dr. Beat- tie's Essay, that most English writers have derived their imperfect in- formation concerning Reid's philosophy. " There is a certain degree of sense (says this last author, in his Es- " says on the Intellectual Powers of Man,) which is necessary to our "being subjects of law and government, capable of managing our own " affairs, and answerable for our conduct to others. This is called com- " mon sense, because it is common to all men with whom we can transact " business." The same degree of understanding (he afterwards observes) which " makes a man capable of acting with common prudence in life, makes " him capable of discerning what is true and what is false, in matters * It is remarkable how little attention the writings pf Buflier have attracted in his own country, and how very inadequate to his real eminence has been the rank commonly assigned to him among French Philosophers. This has perhaps been partly owing to an unfortunate combination which he thought proper to make of a variety of miscellaneous treatises, of very unequal merit, into a large work, to which he gave the name of A Course of the Sciences. Some of these treatises, how- ever, are of great value: particularly that on First Truths, which contains (along with some erroneous notions, easily to be accounted for by the period when the author wrote, and the religious society with which he was connected,) many origin- al and important views concerning the foundations of human knowledge, and the first principles of a rational logic. Voltaire, in his catalogue of the illustri- ous writers who adorned the reign of Louis XIV. is one of the very few French authors who have spoken of Buffier with due respect."' •• II y a dans ses traits de metaphysique des morceaux que Locke n'aurait pas desavoues, et e'est le seul jesuite qui ait mis une philosophic raisonnable dans ses ouvrages." Another French philosopher, too, of a very different school, and certainly not disposed fo overrate the talents of Buffier, has, in a work published as lately as 1805, candidly acknowledged the lights which he might have derived from the labours of his predecessor, if he had been acquainted with them at an earlier period of his studies. Condillac, be also observes, might have profited greatly by the same lights, if he had availed himself of their guidance in his inquiries concerning the human under- standing. " Du moins est il certain, que pour ma part, je suis fori fache" de ne con- noitreque depuis tres peu de temps ces opinions du Pere Buffier; si je les avais vues plutot enoncees quelque part, elles m'auraient epargnG beaucoup de peines et d'hSsitations.''----'• Je regrette beaucoup que Condillac, dans ses profondes et sagaces meditations sur l'intelligence humaine n'ait pas fait plus d'attention aux iddes du Pere Buffier,1' &c. &c—Elemens cf Ideologic,par M Destutt-Tracy, Tom HI*, pp. 136,137. sect. III.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 51 " that are self-evident, and which he distinctly apprehends." In a sub- sequent paragraph, he gives his sanction to a passage from Dr. Bent- ley, in which common sense is expressly used as synonymous with natu- ral light and reason.* It is to be regretted, as a circumstance unfavourable to the reception of Dr. Beattie's valuable essay among accurate reasoners, that, in the outset of his discussions, he did not confine himself to some such general explanation of this phrase as is given in the foregoing extracts from Buffier and Reid, without affecting a tone of logical precision in his definitions and distinctions, which, so far from being necessary to his intended argument, were evidently out of place, in a work designed as a popular antidote against the illusions of metaphysical scepticism. The very idea, indeed, of appealing to common sense, virtually implies that these words are to be understood in their ordinary acceptation, unre- stricted and unmodified by any technical refinements and comments. This part of his Essay, accordingly, which is by far the most vulnera- ble part of it, has been attacked with advantage, not only by the trans- lator of Buffier, but by Sir James Steuart, in a very acute letter published in the last edition of his works.t While I thus endeavour, however, to distinguish Dr. Reid's definition of common sense from that of Dr. Beattie, I am far from considering even the language of the former on this subject, as in every instance unexceptionable; nor do I think it has been a fortunate circumstance (notwithstanding the very high authorities which may be quoted in his vindication,) that he attempted to incorporate so vague and ambiguous a phrase with the appropriate terms of logic. My chief reasons for this opinion I have stated at some length, in an account published a few years ago of Dr. Reid's Life and Writings."": * Pages 522, 524, 4to- edit. In the following verses of Prior, the word reason is employed in an acceptation exactly coincident with the idea which is, on most oc- casions, annexed by Dr. Reid to the phrase common sense. " Note here, Lucretius dares to teach (As all our youth may learn from Creech,) That eyes were made, but could not view, Nor hands embrace, nor feet pursue, But heedless Nature did produce The members first, and then the use; What each must act was yet unknown, Till all was moved by Chance alone. Blest for his sake be human reason, Which came at last though late, in season.''—Alma, Canto 1. ■J-To the honour of Dr. Beattie it must be remarked, that his reply to this letter, (which may be found in Sir James Steuart's Works) is written in a strain of for- bearance and of good humour, which few authors would have been able to main- tain, after being handled so roughly. tin consequence of the ambiguous meaning of this phrase, Dr. Reid sometimes falls into a sort of play on words, which I have often regretted. "If this be phi- losophy (says he, on one occasion) I renounce her guidance. Let my soul dwell with common sense.'' f/ngutr*/ into the Human Mind, chap. i. sect. 3. See also 52 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [cflCm. |[. One very unlucky consequence has unquestionably re<«iilt*d from the coincidence of so many writers connected with this northern part of the island, in adopting, about the same period, the same phrn-e, R8 a sort of philosophical watch-word;—thrM, although their views d-ffer widely in varjpus respects, they have in general been classed toother as partisans of a new sect, and as mutually respoi sible f' r the doctrine! of each other. It is easy t» perceive the use likely to be made of this accident by an uncandid antagonist. All of these writers have, in my opinion, been occasionally misled in their speculations, by a want of attention to the distinction between first principles, properly so called, and the fundamental laws of human belief. Buffier himself has fallen into the same error; nor do I know of any one logician, from the time of Aristotle downwards, who has entirely avoided it. The foregoing critical remarks will, I hope, have their use in keeping this distinction more steadily in the view of future inquirers; and in preventing some of the readers of the publications to which they rplate, from conceiving a prejudice, in consequence of the looseness of that phraseology which has been accidentally adopted by their authors, against the just and important conclusions which they contain. CHAPTER SECOND. B OF REASONING AND OF DEDUCTIVE EVIDENCE. SECTION I. Doubts with respect to Locke's Distinction between the Powers of Intuition and of Reasoning. _/\_lthough, in treating of this branch of the Philosophy of the Mind, I have followed the example of preceding writers, so far as to speak of sect. 4 of the same chapter.) And in another passage, after quoting the noted say- ing of Hobbes, that -' when reason is against a man, a man will be against reason ;" he adds j "This is equally applicable to common sense." ("Essays on the Intellec- tual Powers, p. 530, 4to edition.) In both of these instances, and indeed in the general strain of argument which runs through his works, he understands common sense in its ordinary acceptation, as synonymous, or very nearly synonymous, with the word reason, as it is now most frequently employed. In a few cases, however, he seems to have annexed to the same phrase a technical meaning of his own, and has even spoken of this meaning as a thing not generally understood. Thus, after illustrating the different classes of natural signs, he adds the following sentence ; " It may be observed, that as the first class of natural signs I have mentioned is the foundation of true philosophy, and the second of the fine arts or ot taste, 60 the last is the foundation of common sense; apart of human nature which hath never been explained."—Inquiry, chap, V. sect. 3. See Note (D) sect. I.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 53 intuition and reasoning as two different faculties of the understanding, I am by no means satisfied that there exists between them that radical distinction which is commonly apprehended. Dr Beattie, in bis Essay on Truth, has attempted to show, that, how closely soever they may in general be connected, yet that this connexion is not necessary; in so much, that a being may be conceived endued with the one, and at the same time destitute of the other.* Something of this kind, he remarks, takes place in dreams and in madness; in both of which states of the system, the power of reasoning appears occasionally to be retained in no inconsiderable degree, while the power of intuition is suspended or lost. But this doctrine is liable to obvious, and to insurmountable objections; and has plainly taken its rise from the vagueness of the phrase common sense, which the author employs through the whole of his argument, as synonymous with the power of intuition Of the indissoluble connexion between this last power and that of reasoning, no other proof is neces- sary than the following consideration, that, " in every step which rea- " son makes in demonstrative knowledge, there must be intuitive certain- "ty;" a proposition which Locke has excellently illustrated, and which, since his time, has been acquiesced in, so far as I know, by philosophers of all descriptions. From this proposition (which, when properly in- terpreted, appears to me to be perfectly just) it obviously follows, that the power of reasoning presupposes the power of intuition ; and, there- fore, the only question about which any doubt can be entertained is, Whether the power of intuition (according to Locke's idea of it) does not also imply that of reasoning? My own opinion is, decidedly, that it does; at least, when combined with the faculty of memory. In ex- amining those processes of thought which conduct the mind by a series of consequences from premises to a conclusion, 1 can detect no intellec- tual act whatever, which the joint operation of intuition and of memory does not sufficiently explain. Before, however, proceeding farther in this discussion, it is proper for me to observe, by way of comment on the proposition just quoted from Locke, that, although, "in a complete demonstration, there must he " intuitive evidence at every step," it is not to be supposed, that in every demonstration, all the various intuitive judgments leading to the conclu- sion are actually presented to our thoughts. In by far the great- er number of instances, we trust entirely to j-idgments resting up- on the evidence of memory; by the help of which faculty, we are enabled to connect together the most remote truths, with the very same confidence as if the one were an immediate consequence of"lhe other. Nor does this diminish, in the smallest degree, the satisfaction we feel in following such a train of reasoning. On the contrary, noth- ing can be more disgusting than a demonstration where even the sim- plest and most obvious steps are brought forward to view ; and where no appeal is made to that 6tock of previous knowledge which memo- ry has indentified with the operations of reason. Still, however, it is true, that it is by a continued chain of intuitive judgments, that the whole science of geometry hangs together; in as much as the demonstra- tion of any one proposition virtually includes all the previous demon- strations to which it refers. Hence it appears, that in mathematical demonstrations, we have not, at every step, the immediate evidence of intuition, but only the evidence * Beattie's.Essay, p. 41,2d edit. 51 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chftp. II. of memory. Every demonstration, however, may be resolved into a series of separate judgments, either formed at the moment, or remem- bered as the results of judgments formed at some preceding period; and it is in the arrangement and concatenation of these different judgments, or media of proof, that the inventive and reasoning powers of the math- ematician find so noble a field for their exercise. With respect to these powers of judgment and of reasoning, as they are here combined, it appears to me, that the results of the former may be compared to a collection of separate stones prepared by the chisel for the purposes of the builder ; upon each of which stones, while lying on the ground, a person may raise himself, as upon a pedestal, to a small elevation. The same judgments, when combined into a train of reason- ing, terminating in a remote conclusion, resemble the formeily uncon- nected blocks, when converted into the steps of a staircase leading to the summit of a tower, which would be otherwise inaccessible. In the design and execution of this staircase, much skill and invention may be displayed by the architect; but, in order to ascend it, nothiug more is necessary than a repetition of the art by which the first step was gained. The fact I conceive to be somewhat analogous, in the relation between the power of judgment, and what logicians call the discursive processes of the understanding. Mr. Locke's language, in various parts of his Essay, seems to accord with the same opinion. "Every step in reasoning,(he observes) that 11 produces knowledge, has intuitive certainty; which, when the mind " perceives, there is no mere required but to remember it, to make the agree- " ment or disagreement of the ideas, concerning which we inquire, vist- " ble and certain. This intuitive perception of the agreement or disa- " greement of the intermediate ideas, in each step and progression of " the demonstration, must also be carried exactly in the mind, and a "man must be sure that no part is left out; which, in long deductions, " and in the use of many proofs, the memory does not always so readily " and exactly retain : therefore it comes to pass, that this is more imper- fect than intuitive knowledge, and men embrace often falsehood for de- '•' monstrations."* The same doctrine is stated elsewhere by Mr. Locke, more than once in terms equally explicit ;t and yet his language occasionally favours the supposition, that, in its deductive processes, the mind exhibits some modification of reason essentially distinct from intuition. The account, too, which he has given oftheir respective provinces, affords evidence that his notions concerning them were not sufficiently precise and set- tled. " When the mind (says he) perceives the agreement or disagree- " ment of two ideas immediately by themselves, without the intervention "of any other, its knowledge may be called intuitive. When it cannot " so bring its ideas together as, by their immediate comparison, and, as " it were, juxta-position, or application one to another, to perceive their " agreementor disagreement it is fain, by the intervention of other ideas, " (one or more as it happens) to discover the agreement or disagreement "which it searches; and this is that which we call reasoning.^ Ac- * B. IV. chap. ii. § 7. See also B. IV. chap. xvii. § 15. t B. IV. chap. xvii. § 2. B. IV. chap. xvii. § 4. § 14. t B. IV. chap, il §§ 1, and 2. sect, hi] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 55 cording tojthese definitions, supposing the equality of two lines A and B to be perceived immediately in consequence of their coincidence ; the judgment of the mind is intuitive; supposing A to coincide with B,and B with C ; the relation between A and C is perceived by reasoning. Nor is this a hasty inference from Locke's accidental language. That it is perfectly agreeable to the foregoing definitions, as understood by their author, appears from the following passage, which occurs afterwards: " The principal act of ratiocination is the finding the agreement or disa- " greement of two ideas, one with another, by the intervention of a third. " As a man, by a yard, finds two houses to be of the same length, •' which could not be brought together to measure their equality by jux- tl ta-position.'"* This use of the words intuition and reasoning, is surely somewhat ar- bitrary. The truth of mathematical axioms has always been supposed to be intuitively obvious; and the first of these, according to Euclid's enumeration, affirms, That if A be equal to B, and B to C, A and C are equal. Admitting, however, Locke's definition to be just, it only tends to confirm what has been already stated with respect to the near affinity, or rather the radical identity of intuition and of reasoning. When the relation of equality between A and B has once been perceived, A and B are completely identified as the same mathematical quantity ; and the two letters may be regarded as synonymous whereverthey occur. The faculty, therefore, which perceives the relation between A and C, is the same with the faculty which perceives the relation between A and B, and between B and C.t ' In farther confirmation of the same proposition, an appeal might be made to the structure of syllogisms. Is it possible to conceive an un- derstanding so formed as to perceive the truth of the major and of the minor propositions, and yet not to perceive the force of the conclusion ? The contrary must appear evident to every person who knows what a syllogism is; or rather, as in this mode of stating an argument, the mind is led from universals to particulars, it must appear evident, that, in the very statement of the major proposition, the truth of the conclusion is presupposed; in so much, that it was not without good reason Dr. Campbell hazarded the epigrammatic, yet unanswerable remark, that " there is always some radical defect in a syllogism, which is not "chargeable with that species of sophism known among logicians by u the name of petitio ftrincipii or a begging of the question."^. The idea which is commonly annexed to intuition, as opposed to rea- soning, turns, I suspect, entirely on the circumstance of time. The former we conceive to be instantaneous ; whereas the latter necessari- ly involves the notion of succession, or of progress. This distinction *B. IV. chap. xvii.§ 18. ■j- Dr. Reid's notions, as well as those of Mr. Locke, seem to have been some- what unsettled with respect to the precise line which separates intuition from rea- soning. That the axioms of geometry are intuitive truths, he has remarked in numberless passages of his works : and yet, in speaking of the application of the syllogistic theory to mathematics, he makes use of the following expression ; "The simple reasoning, u A is equal to B, and B to C, therefore A is equal to C," cannot be brought into any syllogism in figure and mode."—See his Analysis ofArsitotle\i Logic. t Phil, of lthet. Vol. 1. p. 174. (Boston edit p. 93.] Jti ELEMENT*- OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap 11. is sufficiently precise for the ordinary purposes of discourse; nay, it supplies us, on many occasions, with a convenient phraseology : but in th»* theory of the mind, it has hd to some mistaken conclusions, on which I intend to offer a few remarks in the second part of this sec- tion. So much with respect to the separate provinces of these powers, ac- cording to Locke;—a point on wlych I am, after all, inclined to think, that my own opinion does not differ essentially from his, whatever in- ferences to the contrary may be drawn from some of his casual expres- sions. The misapprehensions into which these have contributed lo lead various writer of a later date, will, I hope, furnish a sufficient apology for the attempt which'1 have made, to place the question in a stronger light than he seems to have thought requisite for its illustra- tion. In sdme of thcfbregoing quotations from his Essay, there is another fault of still greater moment; of which, although not immediately con- nected with the topic now under discussion, it is proper for me to take notice, that I may not have the appearance of acquiescing in a mode of speaking so extremely exceptionable. W hat I allude to is, the suppo- sition which his language, concerning the powers both of intuition and of reasoning, involves, that knowledge consists solely in the perception of the agreement or the disagreement of ideas. The impropriety of this phraseology has been sufficiently exposed by Dr. Reid, whose animad- versions I would beg leave to recommend to the attention of those read- ers, who, from long habit, may have familiarized their ear to the pecu- liarities of Locke's philosophical diction. In this place, I think it suffi- cient for me to add to Dr. Reid's strictures, that Mr. Locke's language has, in the present instance, been suggested to him by the partial view which he took of the subject; his illustrations being cjiiefly borrowed from mathematics, and the relations about which it is conversant.— When applied to these relations, it is undoubtedly possible to annex some sense to such phrases as comparing ideas,—the juxta-position of ideas,—the perception of the agreements or disagreements of ideas; but, in most other branches of knowledge, this jargon will be found, on ex- amination, to be altogether unmeaning; and, instead of adding to the precision cf our notions, to involve plain facts in technical and scholas- tic mystery. This last observation leads me to remark farther, lhat even when Locke speaks of reasoning in general, he seems in many cases, to have had a tacit reference, in his own mind, to mathematical demonstration ; and the 6ame criticism may be extended to every logical writer whom I know, not excepting Aristotle himself. Perhaps it is chiefly owing to this, that their discussions are so often of very little practical utility; the rules which result from them being wholly superfluous, when ap- plied to mathematics; and, when extended to other branches of know- ledge, being unsusceptible of any precise, or even intelligible interpre- tation. *• Sect. I.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 57 SECTION I. II. Conclusion obtained by a Process of Deduction often mistaken for Intuitive Judgments. It has been frequently remarked, that the justest and most efficient understandings aie often possessed by men who are incapable f it: but yet I should not care to be obliged to defend it."—Review of the Principal Questions in Morals, pp. 38, 39, 2d. edit. For my own part, I have no scruple to say, that I consider this fancy of Cud- worth as not only -whimsical and extravagant, but as altogether unintelligible : and yet it appears to me, that some confused analogy of the same sort must exist in the mind of every person who imagines that he has the power of forming gener- al conceptions without the intermediation of language. In the continuation of the same note, Dr. Price seems disposed to sanction an- other remark of Dr. Cudworth: in which he pronounces the opinion of the nominal- ists to be so ridiculous and false, as to deserve no confutation. I suspect, that when Dr. Cudworth wrote this splenetic and oracular sentence, he was out of humour with some argument of Hobbes, which he found himself unable to answer. It is not a little remarkable, that the doctrine which he here treats with so great con- tempt, should, with a very few exceptions, have united the suffrages of all the soundest philosophers of the eighteenth century. sect. n.J OF THE HUMAN MIND. 67 general conceptions, that man is distinguished from the brutes; for he observes, that " Berkeley's system goes to destroy the barrier between " the rational and animal natures." I must own I do not perceive the justness of this remark, at least in its application to the system of the nominalists, as I have endeavoured to explain and to limit it in the course of this work. On the contrary, it appears to me, that the ac- count which has been just given of general reasoning, by ascribing to a process of logical deduction (presupposing the previous exercise of ab- straction or analysis) what Dr. Reid attempts to explain by the scholas- tic and not very intelligible phrase of general conceptions, places the distinction between man and brutes in a far clearer and stronger light, than that in which philosophers have been accustomed to view it. That it is to the exclusive possession of the faculty of abstraction, and of the other powers subservient to the use of general signs, that our species is chiefly indebted for its superiority over the other animals, I shall afterwards endeavour to show. It still remains for me lo examine an attempt which Dr. Reid has made, to convict Berkeley of an inconsistency, in the statement of his argument against abstract general ideas. " Let us now consider (says " he) the Bishop's notion of generalizing. An idea (he tells us) which, " considered in itself, is particular, becomes general, by being made to " represent or stand for all other particular ideas of the same sort. To " make this plain by an example: Suppose (says Berkeley) a geometri- " cian is demonstrating the method of cutting a line into two equal parts. " He draws, for instance, a black line of an inch in length. This, which " is in itself a particular line, is nevertheless, with regard to its significa- " tion, general, since, as it is there used, it represents all particular lines " whatsoever, so that what is demonstrated of it, is demonstrated of all " lines, or, in other words, of a line in general. And as that particular " line becomes general by being made a sign, so the name line, which, " taken absolutely, is particular, by being a sign, is made general. " Here (continues Dr. Reid) I observe, that when a particular idea " is made a sign to represent and stand for all of a sort, this supposes " a distinction of things into sorts or species. To be of a sort, implies " having those attributes which characterize the sort, and are common " to all the individuals that belong to it. There cannot therefore be " a sort, without general attributes; nor can there be any conception " cf a sort without a conception of those general attributes which distin- " guish it. The conception of a sort, therefore, is an abstract general " conception. " The particular idea cannot surely be made a sign of a thing of " which we have no conception. I do not say that yon must have an " idea of the sort; but surely you ought to understand or conceive what 11 it means, when you make a particular idea a representative of it; " otherwise your particular idea represents you know not what."* Although I do not consider myself as called upon to defend all the expressions which Berkeley may have employed in support of his opi- nion on this question, I must take the liberty of remarking, that in the present instance, he appears to me to have been treated with an undue severity. By ideas of the same sort, it is plain he meant nothing more Pages 484, 485. 68 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. II. than things called b-..* the same nam?, and, consequently, fit our illimira- lions are lobe borrowed from mathematics) cot, p\ >1vnded under tfu terms of the same definition. In such cases, the individuals thus classed together are completely identified as subject > of reasoning; in so um h, that what is proved with respect to one individual, must hold equally true of all the others. As it is an axiom in geometry, that things which are euual to one and the same thing, are equal to one another} soil may be stated as a maxim in logic, that whatever things have ihe same name applied to them iu consequence of their being comprehend- ed in the terms of the same definition, may all be considered as the same identical subject, in every case where that definition is the principle on which our reasoning proceeds. In reasoning, accordingly, concernin«*" any sort or species of things, our thoughts have no occasion to wander from the individual sign or representative to which the attention hap- pens to be directed, or to attempt the fruitless task of grasping at those specific varieties which are avowedly excluded from the number of our premises As every conclusion which is logically deduced from the definition must, of necessity hold equally true of all the individuals to which the common name is applicable, these individuals are regarded merely as so many units, which go to the composition of the multitude comprehended under the collective or generic term. Nor has the pow- er of conception any thing more to do in the business, than when we think of the units expressed by a particular number in arithmetical com- putation. The word sort is evidently transferred to our intellectual arrange- ments from those distributions of material objects into separate heaps or collections, which the common sense of mankind universally leads them to make for the sake of the memory ; or (which is perhaps nearly the same thing) with a view to the pleasure arising from the perception of order. A familiar instance of this presents itself in the shelves, and drawers, and parcels, to which every shop keeper had recourse, for assorting, according to their respective denominations and prices, the various articles which compose his stock of goods. In one parcel (for example) he collects and encloses under one common enielope, all his gloves of a particular size and quality; iu another, all his gloves of a different size and quality; and, in like manner he proceeds with the stockings, shoes, hats, and the various other commodities with which his warehouse is filled. By ths means, the attention of his shop-boy, instead of being bewildered among an infinitude of particulars, is confined to parcels or assortments of particulars; of each of which parcels a distinct idea may be obtained from an examination of any one of the individuals contained in it. These individuals, therefore, are, in his apprehension, nothing more than so many units in a multitude, any one of which units is perfectly equivalent to any other; while, at the same time, the parcels themselves, notwithstanding the multitude of units of which they are made up, distract his attention arid burden his mem- ory as little, as if they were individual articles. The truth is, that they become to his mind individual objects of thought, like a box of counters, or a rouleau of guineas, or any of the other material aggregates with which his senses are conversant; or, to take au example still more ap- posite to our present purpose, like the phrases one thousand, or one mil- lion, when considered merely as simple units entering into the compo- sition of a numerical sum. sect, il] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 69 The task which I have here supposed the tradesman to perform, in order to facilitate the work of his shop-hoy, is exactly analogous, in its effec, to the aid which is furnished to the infant understanding by the structure of its mother tongue ; the generic words which abound in lan- guage assorting, and (if I may Hse the expression) packing up under a comparatively small number of comprehensive terms, the multifarious objects of human knowledge* In consequence of the generic terms to which, in civilized society, the mind is early familiarized, the vast multi- plicity of things which compose the furniture of this globe are presented to it, not as they occur to the senses of the untaught savage, but as they have been arranged and distributed into parcels or assortments by the successive observations and reflections of our predecessors. Were these arrangements and distributions agreeable, in every instance, to sound philosophy, the chief source of the errors to which we are liable in all our general conclusions would be removed ; but it would be too much to expert (with some late theorists) that, even in the most advanced state either of physical or of moral science, this supposition is ever to be realized in all its extent. At the same time, it must be remembered, that the obvious tendency of the progressive reason and experience of the species, is to diminish more and more the imperfections of the classi- fications which have been transmitted from ages of comparative igno- rance; and. of consequence, to render language more and more a safe and powerful orgarr for the investigation of truth. The only science which furnishes an exception to these observations is mathematics ; a science essentially distinguished from every other by this remarkable circumstance, that the precise import of its generic terms is fixed and ascertained by the definitions which form the basis of all our reasoning?, and in which, of consequence, the very possibility of error in our classifica ions is precluded by the virtnal identity of all those hy- pothetical objects of thought to which the same generic term is applied. I intend to prosecute this subject farther, before concluding my ob- servations on general reasoning. At present, I have only to add to the foregoing remarks, that, in the comprehensive theorems ©f the philoso- pher, as'vvell as in the assortments of the tradesman, I annot perceive a single step of the understanding, which implies any thing more than the notion of number, and the use of a common name. Upon the whole, it appears to me, lhat the celebrated dispute concern- ing abstract general ideas, which so long divided the schools, is now re- duced among correct thinkers, to thi- simple question of fact, Could the human mind, without the use of signs of one kind or another,, have carri- ed on general reasonings, or formed general conclusions? Before argu- inir with any person on the subject, 1 should wish for a categorical ex- planation « n this preliminary point. Indeed, every other controversy concerted with it turns oh little more than the meaning of words. A difference of opinion with respect to this question of fact (or ra- ther I suspect, a want of attention in some of the disputants to the ereat variety of signs of which the mind can avail itself, (independently of words) still continues to keep up a sort of distinction between the ♦ The same analogy had occurred to Locke. " To shorten its ways to knowledge and make each perception more comprehensive, the mind binds them into bun. dies." 70 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. If. Nominalists and the Conceptualists. As for the Realists, they may, 1 apprehend, be fairly considered, in the present state of science, as iiaviii"* been already forced to lay down their arms. That the doctrine of the nominalists has been stated by some writers of note in very unguarded terms, I do not deny,* nor am I certain lhat it was ever delivered by any one of the schoolmen in a form completely unexceptionable ; but after the luminous, and, at the same time, cau- tious manner in which it has been unfolded by Berkeley and his suc- cessors, I own it appears to me not a little surprising, that men of ta- lents and candour should still be found inclined to shut their eyes against the light, and to shelter themselves in the darkness of the mid- dle ages. For my own part, the longer and the more attentively that I reflect on the subject, the more am I disposed to acquiesce in the eulo- gium bestowed on Roscellinus and his followers by Leibnitz ; one of the very few philosophers, if not the only philosopher, of great celebrity, who seems to have been fully aware of the singular merits of those by whom this theory was originally proposed : " secta nomina lium. ommcm inter " SCHOLASTICAS PROFUNDI-S1MA, ET HODIERNAE REKORMATAE PHILOSO- " phandi ra.tioni congruentissima.'* It is a theory, indeed, much more congenial to the spirit of the eighteenth than of the eleventh century; nor must it be forgotten, that it wa9 proposed and maintained at a pe- riod when the algebraical art (or to express myself more precisely, universal arithmetic) from which we now borrow our best illustrations in explaining and defending it, was entirely unknown. ' * Particularly by Hobbes, some of whose incidental remarks and expressions would certainly, if followed strictly out to their logical consequences, lead to the complete subversion of truth, as a thing real, and independent of human opinion. It is to this, I presume, that Leibnitz alludes, when he says of him," Thomun l* Hobbes, qui ut verum fatear, mihi plus quam nominalis videtur." I shall afterwards point out the mistake by which Hobbes seems to me to have been misled. In the mean time, it is but justice to him to say. that I do hot think he had any intention to establish those sceptical conclusions, which, it must be owned, may be fairly deduced as corollaries from some of his princi- ples- Of this I would not wish for a stronger proof than his favourite maxim, that " words are the counters of wise men, but the money of fools ;" a sentence which expresses, with marvellous conciseness, not only the proper function of language, as an instrument of reasoning, but the abuses to which it is liable, when in unskilful hands. Dr. Gillies, who has taken much pains to establish Aristotle's claims to all that is valuable in the doctrine of the nominalists, has, at the same time, repre- sented him as the only favourer of this-opinion, by whom it has been taught with- out any admixture of those errors which are blended with it in the works of its modern revivers. Even Bishop Berkeley himself is involved with Hobbes and Hume in the same sweeping sentence of condemnation. " The language of the nominalists seems to have been extremely liable to be perverted to the purposes of scepticism, as taking away the specific distinctions of things ; and is in fact thus perverted by Hobbes, Berkeley, Hume, and their innumerable follow- ers. But Aristotle's language is not liable to this abuse." (Gillies''s Aristotle, Vol. I. p. 71,2d edit.) Among these sceptical followers of Berkeley, we must, I presume, include the late learned and ingenious Dr. Campbell; whose remarks on this subject I will, nevertheless, venture to recommend to the particular attention of my readers. In- deed I do not know of any writer who has treated it with more acuteness and perspicuity. (See Philosophy of Rhetoric, Book II. chap, vil Sect. II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 71 II. Continuation of the Subject.—Of Language as an Instrument of Thought. Having been led, in defence of some of my own opinions, to intro- duce a few additional remarks on the controversy with respect to the theory of general reasoning, I shall avail myself of this opportunity to illustrate a little farther another topic (intimately connected with the foregoing argument) on which the current doctrines of modern logi- cians seem to require a good deal more of explanation and restriction than has been commonly apprehended. Upon this subject I enter the more willingly, that, in my first volume, I have alluded to these doc- trines in a manner which may convey, to some of my readers, the idea of a more complete acquiescence, on my part, in their truth, than I &m^ disposed to acknowledge. '^jg In treating of abstraction, I endeavoured to show that we think, as well as speak, by means of words ; and that, without the use of language, our reasoning faculty (if it could have been at all exercised) must ne- cessarily have been limited to particular conclusions alone. The effects, therefore, of ambiguous and indefinite terms are not confined to our communications with others, but extend to our private and solitary spe- culations. Dr. Campbell, in his Philosophy of Rhetoric, has made some judicious and important observations on this subject; and, at a much earlier period, it drew the attention of Des Cartes; who, in the course of a very valuable discussion with respect to the sources of our errors, has laid particular stress on those to which we are exposed from the employment of language as an instrument of thought. "And lastly, " in consequence of the habitual use of speech, all our ideas become " associated with the words in which we express them; nor do we " ever commit these ideas lo memory, without their accustomed signs. " Hence il is, lhat there is hardly any one subject, of which we have so " distinct a notion as to be able to think of it abstracted from all use " of language; and, indeed, as we remember words more easily than '* things, our thoughts are much more conversant with the former than " with the latter. Hence, too, it is, that we often yield our assent to " propositions, the meaning of which we do not understand ; imagining " that we have either examined formerly the import of all the terms " involved in them, or that we have adopted these terms on the autho- " rity of others upon whose judgment we can rely."* ♦ " Et denique, propter loquelae usum, conceptos omnes eostros verbis, quibus eos exprimimus, alligamus, nee eos, nisi simul cum istis verbis, memoriae manda- mus. Cumque facilius postea verborum quam rerum recordetnur, vix unquam ullius rei conceptual habemus tarn distinction, ut ilium ab omni verborum con- ceptu separemus ; cogitationesque liominum fere omnium circa verba magis quam circa res versantur ; adeo ut persaepe vocibus non intellectis praebeant assensum, quia putant se illas olim intellexisse, vel ab aliis qui eas recte intelligebant acce- pisse."—Princ. Phil. Pars Prima, lxxiv. I have quoted a very curious passage, nearly to the same purpose, from Leib- nitz, in a note annexed to my first volume (see note L.) I was not then aware of the previous atteation which had been given to this source of error by Des Car- tes ; nor did I expect to find so explicit an allusion to it in the writings of Aristo- tle, as I have since observed in the following paragraph : 72 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. II. To these important considerations, it may be worth while to add, that whatever improvements may yet be made iu language by philoso- phers, they never can relieve the student from the indispensahle task ot anal\zing with accuracy the complex ideas he an.iexes to the terms employed in hi- reasonings. The use of genera! terms, as Locke has remarked, is learned in many cases, before it is possible for us to com- prehend their meaning ; and the greater part of mankind continue to use them through* life, wiihout ever being at the trouble to examine accurately the notions they convey This is a study which every individual must carry on for himself; and of which no rules of logic (how useful so- ever they may be in diiectpig our labours) can supersede the necessity. Of the essential utility of a cautious employment of words, both as a medium of communication and as an instrument of thought, many striking illustrations might be produced from the history of science dur- ing the time that the scholastic j-irgon was • urrent among the learned ; Yf technical phraseology, which was not only ill-calculated for the dis- covery of truth, but which was dexterously contrived lor fie propaga- tion of error; and which gave to those who were habituated to the use of it, great advantagts in controversy 'at least in the judgment of the multitude) over their more enlightened and candid opponents. " A 11 blind wrestler, by fighting iu a dark chamber (to adopt an allusion of " Des Cartes) may not only conceal his defect, but may enjoy some ad- " vantages over those who see. It is the light of day only that can Ale KXI TMl VXpX Tt)1 Xt%lt OVTOi 0 TpoVOf QlTtoi TpUTOI fill oTI fixXXoi t> X7txt») y.verxi jtcer xXXut o-KOTCovfitvotf t) xxi ixvrovf j» p.t* yxp fter xXXatv $.—De Sophist. Elenckis, Lib. 1. cap. vii. " Quocnca inter eos (Paralogismos) qui in dictione consislunl, hie fallendi mo- dus est ponendus. Primum, quia magis decipimur considerantes cum ali.s, quam apud nosmetipsos : nam considetatio cum alns per sermonem instittiitur; aptid nos- met ipsos autem non minus fit perrem ipsam. Deindeei per nos metipsos utfullamur accidit, cum in rebus considerandis ser mo adhibetur : Praeterea deceptio est ex similitudine : stmihtudo autem ex dictione."—Edit. Du Val. Vol. I. p. 389. Lest it should be concluded, however, from this detached remark, that Aristotle had completely anticipated Locke and Condillac in their speculations with respect to language, considered as an instrument of thought, I mu^t beg of my readers to compare it with the previous enumeration given by the same author, of those pa- ralo. V™ knew how to give them signs equally "The same task which must have been executed by those who con- " tnbuted to the first formation of a language, and which ^xecnted < by every child when he learns to speak it, is repeated ov r i„ he mind of every adult when he makes use of his mother-tongue • for it VOL. II. ' Des Signes et de l'Art de Penser, &c. Introd! pp. xx. xxi. 74 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY " is only by the decomposition of his thoughts, that he can learn to se- " lect the signs which he ought to employ, and to dispose them in a " suitable order. Accordingly, those external actions which we call "speaking or writing, are always accompanied with a philosophical " process of the understanding, unless we content ourselves, as too often " happens, with repeating over mechanically what has been jaid by "others. It is in this respect that lanq;ua<;es, with their forms and <« rules, conducting (so to speak) those who use them, into the path of " a regular analysis ; tracing out to them, in a well-ordered discourse, <• the model of a perfect decomposition, may he regarded, in a certain " sense, as analytical methods-----But I stop short: Condillac, to whom '■' this idea belongs, has developed it too well to leave any hope of im- " proving upon his statement." In a note upon this passage, however, M. De Gerando has certainly improved not a little on the statement of Condillac. '* In asserting " (says he) that languages may be regarded as analytical methods, I "have added the qualifying phrase in a certain sense ; for the word £* method cannot be employed here with exact propriety. Laii"*ua<»*es ** furnish the occasions and the means of analysis ; lhat is to say, they '* afford us assistance in following that method; but they are not the " method itself. They resemble signals or finger-posts placed on a road ** to enable us to discover our way : and if they help us to analyze, it " is because they are themselves the results, and, as it were, the mon- n uments of an analysis which has been previously made •, nor do they t% contribute to keep us in the right path, but in proportion to the de- " gree of judgment with which that analysis has been conducted."* 1 was the more solicitous to introduce these excellent remarks, as I suspect that I have myself indirectly contributed to propagate in this country the erroneous opinion which it is their object to correct. By some of our later writers il has not only been implicitly adopted, but has been regarded as a conclusion of too great value to be suffered to re- main in the quiet possession of the moderns. *•' Aristotle (says the au- "thorofa very valuable analysis of his works) well h new that our " knowledge of things chiefly depending on the proper application of " language as an instrument op thought, the true art of reasoniug is ■* nothing but a language accurately defined and skilfully arranged ; an " opinion which, after many idle declamations against his barren gene- " ratifies and verbal trifling, philosophers have begun very generally to adopt, "t * Ibid pp. 158, 159. Tom. 1. f Aristotle's Ethics, &c. by Dr. Gillies, Vol.1, p. 94. 2d edit. The passage in my first volume, to which 1 suspect an allusion is here made, is as follows; " The technical terms, in the different sciences, render the appropriate language of philosopliy a still moreconvenient INSTRUMENT OF THOUGHT, than those languages which have originated from popular use ; and in proportion as these technical terms improve in point of precision and of comprehensiveness, they will contribute to render our intellectual progress more certain and more rapid. " While engaged (says Mr. Lavoisier) in the composition of my Elements of Che- mistry, I perceived, better than I had ever done before, the truth of an observation of Condillac, that we think only through the medium of words, and that languages are true analytic methods. Algebra, which, of all our modes of expression, is the most simple, the most exact, and the '"tit adapted to its purpose, is, at the same [chap. n. Sect. II.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. *5 After this strong and explicit assertion of the priority of Aristotle's claim to the opinion which we are here told "philosophers begin very generally to adopt," it is to be hoped, that M. De Gerando will be in future allowed to enjoy the undisputed honour, of having seen a little farther into this fundamental article of logic than the Stagirite himself. III. Continuation of the Subject.—Visionary Theories of some Logicians, occasioned by their inattention to the Essential Distinction between Mathematics and oth- er Sciences. In a passage already quoted from De Gerando," he takes notice of what he justly calls a rash assertion of Condillac, " That mathematics " possess no advantage over other sciences, but what they derive from " a better phraseology ; and that all of them might attain to the same " characters of simplicity and of certainty, if we knew how to give " them signs equally perfect." Leibnitz seems to point at an idea of the same sort, in those obscure and enigmatical hints (not altogether worthy, in my opinion, of his pow- erful and comprehensive genius) which he has repeatedly thrown out about the miracles to be effected by a new art of his own invention ; to which art he sometimes gives the name of Ars Combinatoria Charac- teristica; and sometimes of Ars Combinatoria Generalis ac Vera. In one of his letters to Mr. Oldenburg, he speaks of a plan he had long been meditating, of treating of the science of mind by means of mathe- matical demonstrations. "Many wonderful things (he adds) of this " kind have occurred to me ; which, at some future period, I shall ex- " plain to the public with that logical precision which the subject re- " quires."* In the same letter, he intimates his belief in the possibility of inventing an art, "which, with an exactitude resembling that of time, a language and an analytical method. The art of reasoning is nothing more than a language well arranged.'' The influence (I have added) which these very enlightened and philosophical views have already had on the doctrines of chemis- try, cannot fail to be known to most of my readers." When this paragraph was first written, I was fully aware of the looseness and indistinctness of Lavoisier's expressions ; but as my only object in introducing the quotation was to illustrate the influence of general logical principles on the progress of particular sciences, I did not think it necessary, in the introduction to my work, to point out in what manner Condillac's propositions were to be limited and corrected. I am truly happy, for the sake^of M. De Gerando, that I happened to transcribe them in the same vague and very exceptionable terms, in which I found them sanctioned by the names of Condillac, and of one of the most illustri- ous of his disciples. It will not, I hope, be considered as altogether foreign to the design of this note, if I remark further, how easy it is for a translator of Aristotle (in consequence of the unparalleled brevity which he sometimes affects) to accommodate the sense of the original, by the help of paraphrastical clauses, expressed in the phraseology of modern science, to every progressive step in the history of human knowledge. In truth, there is not one philosopher of antiquity, whose opinions, when they are stated in any terms but his own, are to be received with so great distrust. * " Multa in hoc gencre mira a me sunt observata, quae aliquant^ quo par est rigore, exposita dabo." 76 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. II. "mechanism, may render the operations of reason steady and visible, "and, in their effects, on the minds of others, irresistible."* After which he proceeds thus : '* Our common algebra, wliich we justly value so highly, is no more " than a branch of that general art which I have herein view. But, "such as it is, it puts it out of our power to commit an error, even " although we should wish to do so ; while it exhibits truth to our eyes " like a picture stamped on paper by means of a machine. It must at "the same lime be recollected, that algebra is indebted for whatever it '• accomplishes in the demonstration of general theorems to the sug- gestions of a higher science; a science which I have been accustomed " to call characteristical combination: very different, however, in its "nature, from that which these words are likely, at first, to suggest " to the hearer. The marvellous utility of this art I hope to illustrate, " both by precepts and examples, if I shall be so fortunate as to enjoy " health and leisure. " It is impossible for me to convey an adequate idea of it in a short " description. But this I may venture to assert, that no instrument (or " organ) rould easily be imagined of more powerful efficacy for promo- " ting the improvement of the human understanding ; and that, sup- '• posing it to be adopted as the common method of philosophizing the " time would very soon arrive, when we should be able to form con- " elusions concerning God and the Mind, with not less certainty than " we do at present concerning figures and numbers."} The following passage is translated from another letter of Leibnitz to the same > onespondent. " The matter in question depends on another of much higher mo- " ment; I mean on a general and true art of combination, of the exten- " sive influence of wliich I do not know that any person has yet becu " fully aware. This, in truth, does not differ from that sublime analy- " sis, into the recesses of which Des Cartes himself, as far as I can "judge, was not able to penetrate. But, in order to carry it into ex- " edition an alphabet of human thoughts must be previously formed j "and for the invention of this alphabet, an analysis of axioms is indis- " pensably necessary. I am not, however, surprised, that nobody has " yet sufficiently considered it; for we are, in general, apt to neglect " what is easy ; and to take many things for granted, from their appa- rent evidence ; faults which while they remain uncorrected, will for " ever prevent us from reaching the summit of things intellectual, by " the aid of a calculus adapted to moral as well as to mathematical sci- " ence."} * " Quod velut mechanica ratione fixam et visibilem et (ut i'.a dicam) irresisti bilem, reddat rationem. f Wallisii Opera, Vol. III. p. 621, * Wallisii Opera, Vol. HI. p. 633. As these reveries of this truly great man are closely connected with the subse- quent history of logical speculation in more than one country of Europe, I have been induced to incorporate them, in an English version, with my own disquisi- tions. Some expressions, which, I am sensible, are not altogether agteeable to the idiom of our language, might have been easily avoided, it I had not felt it in- cumbent on me, in translating, an author whose meaning, in this instance, I was able but very imperfectly to comprehend, to deviate as little as possible from his own words. sect, il] of the human mind. 77 In these extracts from Leibnitz, as well as in that quoted from Con- dillac, in the beginning of this article, the essential distinction between mathematics and the other sciences, in point of phraseology, is entirely overlooked. In the former science, where the use of an ambiguous word is impossible, it may be easily conceived how the solution of a problem may be reduced to something resembling the operation of a mill,—the conditions of the problem, when once translated from the common language into that of algebra, disappearing entirely from the, view; and the subsequent process being almost mechanically regulated by general rules, till the final result is obtained. In the latter, the whole of the words about which our reasonings are conver-ant, admit, more or less, of different shades of meaning ; and it is only by considering at- tentively the relation in which they stand to the immediate context, that the precise idea of the author in any particular instance is to be ascertained. In these sciences, accordingly, the constant and unre- mitting exercise of the attention is indispensably necessary, to prevent us, at every step of our progress, from going astray. On this subject I have made various remarks in a volume lately pub- lished ; to which I beg leave here to refer, in order to save the trouble of unnecessary repetitions.* From what I have there said, 1 trust it appears, lhat, in following any train of reasoning, beyond the circle of the mathematical sciences, the mind must necessarily carry on, along with the logical deduction expressed in words, another logical process of a far nicer and more difficult nature ;—that of fixing with a rapidity which escapes our memory, the precise sense of every word which is ambiguous, by the relation in which it stands to the general scope of the argument. In proportion as the language of science becomes more and more exact, the difficulty of this task will be gradually diminished ; but let the improvement be carried to any conceivable extent, not one step will have been gained in accelerating that era, so sanguinely an- ticipated by Leibnitz and Condillac, when our reasonings in morals and politics shall resemble, in their mechanical regularity, and in their de- monstrative certainty, the investigations of algebra. The improvements which language receives, in consequence of the progress of knowledge, consisting rather in a more precise distinction and classification of the various meanings of words, than in a reduction of these meanings in point of number, the task of mental induction and interpretation may be rendered more easy and unerring ; but the necessity of this task can never be superseded, till every word which we employ shall be as fixed and invariable in ils signification, as an algebraical character, oi as the name of a geometrical figure. In the mean time, the intellectual superiority of one man above an- other, in all the different branches of moral and political philosophy, will be found to depend chiefly on the success with which he has culti- vated these silent habits of inductive interpretation,—much more, in my opinion, than on his acquaintance with those rules which form the great objects of study to the professed logician. In proof of this, it is suffi- cient for me to remind my readers, that the whole theory of syllogism proceeds on the supposition that the same word is always to be employ- ed precisely in the same sense, (for otherwise, the syllogism would be * Philosophical Essays, p. 153, et scq. 78 elements op the philosophy [chap, t, vitiated bv consisting of more than three terms,) and, consequently, it takes for granted, in every rule which it furnishes for the guidance of our reasoning powers, that ihe nicest, and by far the most difficult part of the logical process has been previously brought to a successful ter- mination. In treating of a different question, I have elewhere remarked, that although many authors have spoken of the wonderful mechanism of speech, none has hitherto attended to the far more wonderful mechanism which it puts into action behind the scene. A similar observation will be found to apply lo what is commonly called the Art of Reasoning. The scholastic precepts which profess to teach it, reach no deeper than the very surface of the subject ; being, all of them, confined to that part of the intellectual process which is embodied in the form of verbal propositions. On the most favourable supposition which can be form- ed with respect to them, they are superfluous and nugatory; but, in many cases, it is to be apprehended, that they interfere with the right conduct of the understanding, by withdrawing the attention from the cultivation of that mental logic on which the soundness of our conclu- sions essentially depends, and in the study of which (although some general rules may be of use) every man must be, in a great measure, his own master.* In the practical application of the foregoing conclusions, it cannot fail to occur, as a consideration equally obvious and important, that, iu proportion as the objects of our reasoning are removed from the parti- cular details with which our senses are conversant, the difficulty of these latent \nductive processes must be increased. This is the real source of that incapacity for general speculation, which Mr. Hume has so well described as a distinguishing characteristic of uncultivated minds. " General reasonings seem intricate, merely because they are general; " nor is it easy for the bulk of mankind to distinguish, in a great num- " ber of particulars, that common circumstance in which I hey all agree, " or to extract it, pure and unmixed, from the other tuperfluous cir- " cumstances. Every judgment or conclusion with them is particular. " They cannot enlarge their views to those universal propositions which " comprehend under them an infinite number of individuals, and include ■•' a whole science in a single theorem. Their eye is confounded with " such an extensive prospect, and the conclusions deduced from it,even " though clearly expressed, seem intricate and obscure."! Difficult, however, and even impossible as the task of general specu- lation is to the bulk of mankind, it is nevertheless true, that it is the path which leads the cautious and skilful reasoner to all his most certain, as well as most valuable conclusions in morals and in politics. If a theorist, indeed, should expf ct, that these conclusions are in every particular in- stance to be realized, he would totally misapprehend their nature and application ; in as much as they are only to be brought to an experi- mental test, by viewing them on an extensive scale, and continuing our * Those who are interested in this discussion, will enter more completely into fny views, if they take the trouble to combine what is here stated with some obser- vations I have introduced in the first volume of this work. f Esiay on Commerce. sect, il] op the human mind. 79 observations during a long period of time. " When a man deliberates " (says Mr. Hume) concerning his conduct in any partiadar affair, and " forms schemes in politic?, trade, economy, or any business in life, he " never ought to draw his arguments too fine, or connect too long a *» chain of consequences together. Something is sure to happen that " will disconcert his reasoning, and produce an event different from " what he expected. But when we reason upon general subjects, one " may justly affirm, that our speculations can scarcely ever be too fine "provided they be just; and lhat the difference between a common " man and a man of genius is chiefly seen in the shallowness or depth of " the principles on which they proceed." The same author afterwards excellently observes, "That general principles, however intricate they "mayseem, must always prevail, if they be just and sound: in the " general course of things, though they may fail in particular cases, " and that it is the chief business of philosophers to regard the general " course of things."—" I may add, (continues Mr. Hume) thut it is also '• the chief business of politicians, especially in the domestic govern- " ment of the state, where ihe public good, which is or ought to be, " their object, depends on the concurrence of a multitude of causes: " not, as in foreign politics, on accidents and chances, and the caprices " of a few persons.''* To these profound reflections Mr. Hume, it may be added (although the remark does not bear directly on our present argument) that, in the systematical application of general and refined rules to their private concerns, men frequently err from calculating their measures upon a scale disproportionate to the ordinary duration of human, life. This is one of the many mistakes into which projectors are apt to fall ; and hence the ruin which so often overtakes them, while sowing the seeds of a harvest which others are to reap. A few years more might have secured to themselves the prize which they had in view ; and changed the opinion of the world (which is always regulated by the accidental circumstances of failure or of success) from contempt oftheir folly, into admiration oftheir sagacity and perseverance. It is observed by the Comte de Bussi, lhat " time remedies all mis- " chances, and that men die unfortunate, only because they did not " live long enough. Maresrhal de Estree, who died rich at a hundred " would have died a beggar, had he lived only to eighty." The maxim, like most other apothegms, is staled in terms much too unqualified ; but it may furnish matter for many interesting reflections, to those who have surveyed with attention the Vhnracters which have passed before them on the stage of life ; or who amuse themselves with marking^ the triflintr and fortuitous circumstances by which the multitude are decided, in pronouncing their verdicts of foresight or of improvidence. * Essay on Commerce. . This contrast between the domestic and the foreign policy of a state occurs more than once in Mr. Hume's writings; (see in particular the first paragraphs of his Essay on the Rise of Arts and Sciences.) A similar observation had long before been made by Polybius. •* There are two ways by which every kind of Kovernment is'.estoyed'; either by some accident that happens from without; or some evil that arises within itself. What the first will be, it is not always easy to foresee, but the latter is certain and detei-minate."--Book VI. Ex.3. (Hampton's Translation.) 80 EI.l.MENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap, II. IV. Continuation of the Subject.—Peculiar and supercmincnt Advantages possessed by Mathematicians, inconsequence oftheir definite Phraseology. If the remarkscontained in the foregoing articles of this section he just, it will follow, that the various artificial aids to our reasoning pow- ers, which have been projected by Leibnitz and others, proceed on the supposition (a supposition wliich is also tacitly assumed in the sylK «*;isti< theory) lhat, in all the sciences, the words which we employ have, in the course of our previous studies, bee" brought to a sense as unequivo- cal as the phraseology of mathematicians. They proceed on the sup- position, therefore, that by far the most difficult part of the logical problem has been already solved. Should the period ever arrive, when the language of moralists and politicians shall be rendered as perfect as that of geometers and algebraic, then, indeed, may such contrivances as the Ars Combinatoria, and the Alphabet of human thoughts, become interesting subjects of philosophical discussion ; although the probabil- ity is, that, evenuvere that aera to take place, they would be found near- ly as useless in morals and politics, as the syllogistic art is acknowledg- ed to be at present, in the investigations of pure geometry. Of the peculiar and supereminent advantage possessed by mathema- ticians, in consequence of those fixed and definite relations which form the objects oftheir science, and the correspondent prcc'nsion in their language and reasonings. lean think of no illustration more striking than what is afforded by Dr Halley's Latin version from an Arabic manuscript, of the two books of Apollonius Perseus de Sectione Ration- is. The extraordinary circumstaiice3.under which this version was at- tempted and completed (wliich I presume are little known beyond the narrow circle of mathematical readers) appear to me so highly curious, considered as matter of literary history, that I shall copy a short detail of them from Halley'o preface. After mentioning the accidental discovery in the Bodlein library by Dr. Bernard, Savilian Professor of Astronomy, of the Arabic version of Apollonius. -artpi Xoyov avoro^ni, Dr. Halley proceeds thus : " Delighted, therefore, with the discovery of such a treasure, Uernaro " applied'hirnselfdiligently to the task of a L-i'.iu translation. But be- " fore he had finished a tenth part of his undertaking, he abandoned it " altogether, either from his experience of its growing difficulties, or " from the pressure of other avocations. Afterward-, when, on the "death of Dr. VVallis, the Savilian professorship was bestowed on me. "*■' I was seized with a strong desire of making a trial to complete what " Bernard had begun ;—an attempt, of the boldness of which the reader "may judge, when he is informed, that, in addition to my own entire " ignorance of the Arabic language, I had to contend with the ohscuri- " ties occasioned by innumerable passages which were either defaced " or altogether obliterated. With the assistance, however, of the sheets " which Bernard had left, and which served me as a key for iuvetti- " gating the sense of the original, I began first with making a lut of ■•' those words, the signification of which his version had cloarly ascer- Sect. III.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 8 I "tained; and then proceeded, by comparing these words, wherever "they occurred, with the Irain of reasoning in which they were irvol- " ved, to decypher by slow decrees, the import of the context; till at u last I succeeded in mastering the whole work, and in bringing: my " translation (without the aid of any other person) to the form in which " I now give it to the public"* When a similar attempt shall be made with equal success, in deci- phering a moral or a political treatise written in an unknown tongue, then, and not till then, may we think of comparing the phraseology of these two sciences with the simple and rigorous language of the Greek geometers; or with the more refined and abstract, but not less scrupu- lously-logical system of signs, employed by modern mathematicians It must not, however be imagined that it is solely by the nature of the ideas which form the objects of its reasonings, even when combined with the precision and unamtiguity of its phraseology, that mathematics is distinguished from the other branches of our knowledge. The trwhs about which it is conversant, are of an order altogether peculiar and singular; and the evidence of which they admit resembles nothing, either in degree or in kind, to which the same name is given, in any of our other intellectual pursuits. On these points also, Leibnitz and many other great men have adopted very incorrect opinions; and, by the au- thority oftheir names, have given < (irrency to some logical errors of fun- ■damental importance My reasons for so thinking, 1 shall state as clear- ly and fully as I can, in the following section. SECTION III. OF MATHEMATICAL DEMONSTRATION. I. Of the Circumstance on which Demonstrative Evidence essentially depends. The peculiarity of that species of evidence which is called demon- strative, and which so remarkably distinguishes our mathematical con- clusions from those to which we are led in other branches of science, is a fact which must have arrested the attention of every person who pos- sesses the slightest acquaintance with the elements of geometry. And yet I am doubtful if a satisfactory account has been hitherto given of the circumstances from which it arises. Mr. Locke tells us, that" what " constitutes a demonstration is intuitive evidence at every step;" and I readily grant, that if in a single step such evidence should fail, the other parts of the demonstration would be of no value. It does not, however, seem to me, that it is on this consideration that the demon- strative evidence of the conclusion depends,—not even when we add to it another which is much insisted on by Dr. Reid,—that, " in demon- *'•' strative evidence, our first principles must be intuitively certain." The * Apollon. Perg. de Sectione Rationis, &c. Opera et Studio Edm. Halley. Oxon 17061 In Praefat. Vol. n. 11 82 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. It. inaccuracy of this remark I formerly pointed out when treating of the evidence of axioms; on which occasion I also observed, that the fin,t principles of our reasonings in mathematics are not axioms, but defini- tions. It is in this last circumstance J mean the peculiarity of reason- ing from definitions) that the true theory of mathematical demonstration is to be found; and I shall accordingly endeavour to explain it at con- siderable length, and to state some of the more important consequence! to whieh it leads. That I may not, however, have the appearance of claiming, in behalf of the following discussion, an undue share of originality, it is necessa- ry for me to remark, that the leading idea which it contains has been re- peatedly started, and even to a certain length prosecuted, by different writers, ancient as well as modern ; but that, in all of them, it has been so blended with collateral considerations, altogether foreign to the point in que.»tion as to divert the attention both of writer and reader, from that single principle on which the solution of the problem hinges. The advantages wliich mathematics derives from the peculiar nature of those relations about which it is conversant; from its simple and definite phraseology; and from the severe logic so admirably displayed in the concatenation of its innumerable theorems, are indeed immense, and well entitled to a separate and ample illustration; but they do not ap- pear to have any necessary connexion with the subject of this section. How far I am right in this opinion, my readers will be enabled to judge by the sequel. It was already remarked, in the first chapter of this Part, that where- as, in all other sciences the propositions which we attempt to establish, express facts real or supposed,—iu mathematics, the propositions which we demonstrate only assert a connexion between certain suppositions and certain consequences. Our reasonings, therefore, in mathematics, are directed to an object essentially different from what we have iu view in any other employment of our intellectual faculties;—not to ascertain truths with respect to actual existences, but to trace the logical filiation of consequences whi. h follow from an assumed hypothesis. If from this hypothesis we reason with correctness, nothing, it is manifest, can be wanting to complete the evidence of the result; as this result only as- serts a necessary connexion between the supposiiion and the conclusion. In the other sciences, admitting, that every ambiguity of language were removed, and that every step of our deductions were rigorously accu- rate, our conclusions would still be attended with more or less of un- certainty ; being ultimately founded on principles which may, or may not, correspond exactly with the fact.* Hence it appears, that it might be possible, by devising a set of ar- bitrary definitions, to form a science which, although conversant about moral, political, or physical ideas, should yet be as certain as geometry. It is of no moment, whether the definitions assumed correspond with * This distinction coincides with one which has been very ingeniously illustrated by M. Prevost in his philosophical essays. See his remarks on those sciences which have for their object absolute truth, coisidered in contrast with ihose which are occupied only about conditional or hypothetical truths. Mathematics is a sci- ence of the latter description ; and is therefore called by M. Prevost a science of pure reasoning. In what respects my opinion on this subject differs from his, will appear afterwards.—Essais de Philosophic, Tom. II. p. 9. et seq. Sect. III.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 83 facts or not, provided they do not express impossibilities, and be not in- consistent with each other. From these principles a series of c<. nsequen- ces may be deduced by the most unexceptionable reasoning ; and the results obtained will be perfectly analogous to mathematical proposi- tions. The terms true and false, cannot be applied t> them; at least in the sense in which they are applicable to proposition relative to facts. All that can be said is, that they are or are not conne< ted with the de- finitions which form the principles of the science : and, therefore, if we choose to call our conclusions true in the one case, and false in, the other, these epithets must be understood merely to refer to their connexion with the data, and not to 1 heir correspondence with th rigs actually ex- isting, or with events which we expect to be realized in future. An ex- ample of such a science as that which I have now been describing, oc- curs in what has been called by some writers theoretical mechanics ; in which, from arbitrary hypotheses concerning: physical laws, the con- sequences are traced which would follow, if such was really the order of nature. In those branches of study which are conversant about moral and political propositions, the nearest approach which I can imagine to a hypothetical science, analogous to mathematics, is to be found in a code of municipal jurisprudence : or rather might be conceived to exist in such a code, if systematically carried into execution, agreeably to cer- tain general or fundamental principles. Whether these principles should or should not be founded iu justice and expediency, it is evi- dently possible, by reasoning from them consequentially, to create an artificial or conventional body of knowledge, more systematical, and, at the same time, more complete in all its parts, than, in the present state of our information, any science can be rendered, which ultimate- ly appeals to the eternal and immutable standards of truth and false- hood, of right and wrong. This consideration seems to me to throw some light on the following very curious parallel which Leibnitz has drawn (with what justness I presume not to decide) between the works of the Roman civilians and those of the Greek geometers. Few wri- ters certainly have been so fully qualified as he was to pronounce on the characleristica! merits of both. " 1 have often said, that, after the writings of geometricians, there " exists nothing which, in point of force and of s>ibtilty, can be com- " pared to the works of the Roman lawyers. And, as it would be " scarcely possible, from mere intrinsic evidence, to distinguish a de- " monstration of Euclid's from one of Archimedes or of Apollonius " '^tne style of all of them appearing no less uniform than if r< ason her- " self was speaking through their organs, j so also the Roman lawyers " all resemble each other like twin-brothers : in so much that, from the "style alone of any particular opini >n or argument hardl) any con- " jecture could be formed with respect to the author. Nor are the tra- " ces of a refined and deeply meditated sysiein of natural, jurisprudence " any where to be found more visible, or in greater abundance. A-td, " even in those cases where its principles are departed from, either in "compliance with the language consecrated by technical fores, or in " consequence of new statutes, or of ancient traditions, the conclusions "wliich the assumed hypothesis renders it necessary lo incorporate "with the eternal dictates of right reason, are deduced with the sound- iii KU-:.»1ENTS OF THE l'HILOSOPHY [chap. It " est logic, and with an ingenuity which excite.- admiration. Vt are •* these deviations from the law of nature so frequent as is commonly *• imagined''* I have quoted this passage merelv as an illustration of Ihe analogy alread-, alluded to, between the systematical unity of mathematical sci- en e and that which is conceivable in a sysiem of Municipal law. How far this unity is exemplified iu the Roman code, I leave to be determin- ed by more competent judges.t As somet' ing analogousto the hypothetical or conditional conclusions of mathematics may thus be fancied to take place in speculations con- cerning moral or political subject, and aclualh does take place in the- oretical mechanics; so, on the other hand, if a mathematician should affirm of a general properl} of the circle, thai it applies to a particular figure described on paper, he would at once degrade a geometrical theo« rem to the level ol a fact resting ultimately on the evidence of our im- perfect senses. The accuracy of his reasoning could never bestow on hi> proposition that peculiar evidence which is properly called mathei mutual, a- long as the fact remained uncertain, whether all the straight lilies diawn fro.i; the centre to the circumference of the figure were mathematically equal. Tiiese observations lead me to remark a very common misconception co ■• erniitg mathematical definitions ; which are of a nature essentially different from the definitions employed iu any of the other sciences.— It i> usual for writers on logic, after taking notice of the errors to which we are lia le in consequence of the ambiguity of words, to ap- peal to the example of mathematicians, as a prool of the ii.finite advan- tage oi using, in our reasonings such expressions only a.» have been carefully defined. Various remark- to this purpose occur in the wri- tings both n on the very circumstance which constitutes (in my opinion) ihe peeuffhr cogency of mathematical reasoning. But it is to mathematics that it applies exclusively. If adopted as a logical maxim in other branches of knowledge, it would prove an endless source of sophistry and error.—The second proposi- tion, on the other hand, " that every definition is the result of observa- " tion and comparison, and often of many observations and many com- " parisons ;" however applicable to the definitions of natural history, and of other sciences which relate to facts, cannot, in one single instance, apply to the definitions of geometry ; in as much as these definitions are neither the result of observations nor of comparisons, but the hypo- theses or first principles, on which the whole science rests. If the foregoing account of demonstrative evidence be just, it follows, that no chain of reasoning whatever can deserve the name of a demon- stration (at least in the mathematical sense of that word) which is not ultimately resolvable into hypotheses or definitions.t It has been alrea- dy shown, that this is the case with geometry : and it is also manifestly the case with arithmetic, another science lo which, in common with ge- ometry, we apply the word mathematical. The simple arithmetical equations 2+2=4; 2+3=5, and other elementary propositions of the same sort, are (as was formerly observed) mere definitions ;\ perfectly analogous, in this respect, to those at the beginning of Euclid ; and it is from a few fundamental principles of this sort, or at least from prin- ciples which are essentially of the same description, that all the more complicated results in the science are derived. To this general conclusion, with respect to the nature of mathemati- cal demonstration, an exception may perhaps be, at first sight appre- hended to occur, in our reasonings concerning geometrical problems / all of these reasonings (as is well known) resting ultimately upon a particular class of principles called postulates, whicb are commonly un- derstood to be so very nearly akin to axioms, that both might, without ♦ Gillies's Aristotle, Vol. I. p. 92. 2d edit. + Although the account given by Locke of what constitutes a demonstration, be different from that which I have here proposed, he admits the converse of this doc- trine as manifest; viz. That if we reason accurately from our own definitions, our conclusions will possess demonstrative evidence,- and " hence (he observes with great truth) it comes to pass, that one may often meet with very cfear and cohe- rent discourses, that amount yet to nothing." He afterwards remarks, that " one may make demonstrations and undoubted propositions in words, and yet thereby advance not one jot in the knowledge of the truth of dungs.'' " Ot this sort (he adds) a man may find an infinite number of propositions, reasonings and conclu- sions, in books of metaphysics, school-divinity, and some sort of natural philoso- phy; and, after all, know as little of God, spirits, or bod.es, as he did before he set out."—Essay on Human Understanding, Book IV. chap. viii. * See page 24. sect, in.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 87 impropriety, be comprehended under the same name. " The defini- " tion of a postulate (says the learned and ingenious Dr. Hutton) will " nearly agree also to an axiom, which is a self-evident theorem, as a " postulate is a self-evident problem."* The same author, in another part of his work quotes a remark from Dr. Barrow, that " there is the " same affinity between postulates and problems, as between axioms and " theorems.'"!" Dr. Wallis, too, appears from the following passage to have had a decided leaning to this opinion : " According to some, the " difference between axioms and postulates is analogous to that be- " tween theorems and problems ; the former expressing truths which " are self-evident, and from which other propositions may be deduced ; " the latter, operations which may be easily performed, and by the " help of which more difficult constructions may be effected." He af- terwards adds, "This account of the distinction between postulates and " axioms seems not ill adapted to the division of mathematical propo- " sitions into problems and theorems. And indeed, if both postulates " and axioms were to be comprehended under either of these names, " the innovation wouid not, in my opinion, afford much ground for cen- " sure."t; In opposition to these very high authorities, I have no hesitation to assert, that it is wilh the definitions of Euclid, and not with the axioms, that the postulates ought to be compared, in respect to their logical character and importance ;—in as much as all the demonstrations in plane geometry are ultimately founded on the former, and all the construc- tions which it recognizes as legitimate, may be resolved ultimately into the latter. To this remark, it may be added, that, according to Euclid's view of the subject, the problems of geometry are not less hypothetical and speculative, (or, to adopt the phraseology of some late writers, not less objects of pure reason) than the theorems ; the posaibility of draw- ing a mathematical strait line, and of describing a mathematical circle, being assumed in the construction of every problem, in a way quite ana- logous to that in which the enunciation of a theorem assumes the exist- ence of strait lines and of circles corresponding to their mathematical definitions. The reasoning, therefore, on which the solution of a pro- blem rests, is not less demonstrative than that whicbis- employed in a proof of a theorem. Grant the possibility of the three operations de- scribed in the postulates, and the correctness of the solution is mathe- matically certain, as the truth of any property of the triangle or of the circle. The three postulates of Euclid are, indeed, nothing more than the definitions of a circle and a strait line thrown into a form somewhat different ; and a similar remark may be extended to the corresponding distribution of propositions into theorems and problems. Notwithstand- ing the many conveniences with which this distribution is attended, it was evidently a matter of choice rather than of necessity; all the truths of geometry easily admitting of being moulded into either shape, ac- cording to the fancy of the mathematician. As to the axioms,"there cannofbe a doubt (whatever opinion may be entertained of their utility * Mathematical Dictionary, Art. Postulate. f Ibid. Art. Hypothesis. i Wallisii Opera, Vol. II. pp. 667, 668. 88 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. II. or of their insignificance) that they stand precisely in the same relation to both ch^cs of propositions.* II. Continuation of the Subject.—How far it is true that all Mathematical Evidence is resolvable into Identical Propositions. I had occasion to take notice, in the first section of the preceding chapter, of a theory with respect to the nature of mathematical evi- dence, very different from that which I have been now attempting to explain. According to this theory (originally, I believe, proposed by Leibnitz) we are taught, lhat all mathematical evidence ultimately re- solves into the perception of identity; the innumerable variety of pro- positions which have been discovered, or which remain to be discovered in the science, being only diversified expressions of the simple formula, a=a. A writer of great eminence, both as a mathematician and a philosopher, has lately given his sanction, iu the strongest terms, to this doctrine j asserting, that all the prodigies performed hy the geometri- cian are accomplished by the constant repetition of these words,—Me same isthi same. ** Le geometre avance de supposition en supposition. " Et retournant sa pensee sous mille formes, e'est en repetant sans ces- " se, le m€me est le menu, qu'il opere tous ses prodiges." As this account of mathematical evidence is quite irreconcilable wilh the scope of ihe foregoing observations, it is necessary before proceed- ing farther, to examine its real import and amount ; and what the cir- cumstances are from which it derives that plausibility which it has been so generally supposed to possess. That all mathematical evidence resolves ultimately into ihe percep- tion of identity, has been considered by some as a consequence of the * In further illustration of what is said above, on the subject of postulates and of problems, I transcribe, with pleasure, a short passage from a learned and inte- resting memoir, just published, by an author intimately and critically conversant with the classical remains of Greek geometry. "The description of any geometrical line from the data by which it is defined, must always be assumed as possible, and is admitted as the legitimate means of a geometrical construction : it is therefore properly regarded as a postulate. Thus, the description of a strait line and of a circle are the postulates of plane geometry assumed by Euclid. The description of the three conic sections, according to the definitions of them, must also be regarded as postulates ; and though not formally stated like those of Euclid, are in truth admitted as such by Apollonius, and all other writers on this branch of geometry. The same principle must be extended to all superior lines. " It is true, however, that the properties of such superior lines may be treated of and the description of them may he assumed in the solution of problems, with- out an actual delineation of them.—For it must be observed, that no lines what- ever, not even the straight line or circle, can be truly represented to the senses according to the strict mathematical definitions ; but this by no means affects the theoretical conclusions which are logically deduced from such definitions. It is only when geometry is applied to practice, either in mensuration or in the arts con- nected with geometrical principles, lhat accuracy of delineation becomes impor- tant."—See an Account of the Life and Writings of Robert Stmson, M. D. Hy the Rev. William Trail, L. L D. Published by C and VV. Nicol, l/aidon, 1812. Sect. III.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 89 commonly received doctrine, which represents the axioms of Euclid as the first principles of all our subsequent reasonings in geometry. Upon this view of the subject I have nothing to offer, in addition to what I have already stated. The argument which I mean to combat at pres- ent is of a more subtile and refined nature; and, at the same time, in- volves an admixture of important truth, which conlributes not a little to Ihe specious verisimilitude of the conclusion. It is founded on this sim- ple consideration, that the geometrical notions of equality and of coinci- dence are the same; and that, even in comparing together spaces of different figures, all our conclusions ultimately lean with their whole weight on the imaginary application of one triangle to another;—the ob- ject of which imaginary application is merely to identify the two trian- gles together, in every circumstance connected both with magnitude and figure.* Of the justness of the assumption on which this argument proceeds, I do not entertain the slightest doubt. Whoever has the curiosity to ex- amine any one theorem iu the elements of plane geometry, in which dif- ferent spaces are compared together, will easily perceive, that the de- monstration, when traced back to its first principles terminates in the fourth proposition of Euclid's first book : a proposition of which the proof rests entirely on a supposed application of the one triangle to the other. In ihe case of equal triangles which differ in figure, this expe- dient of ideal superposition cannot be directly and immediately employ- ed to evince their equality ; but the demonstration will nevertheless be found to rest at bottom on the same species of evidence. In illustration of this doctrine, I shall only appeal to the thirty-seventh proposition of the first book, in which it is proved lhat triangles on the same base, and between the same parallels, are equal; a theorem which appears, from a very simple construction, to be only a few steps removed from the fourth of the same book, in which the supposed application of the one triangle to the other, is the only medium of comparison from which their equality is inferred In general, it seems to be almost self-evident, lhat the equality of two spaces can be demonstrated only by showing, either that the one might be applied to the other, so that their boundaries should exactly coin- cide ; or that it is possible, by a geometrical construction, to divide them into compartments, in such a manner, that the sum of parts in the one may be proved to be equal to the sum of parts in the other, upon the principle of superposition. To devise the easiest and simplest con • It was probably with a view to the establishment of this doctrine, that some for- eign elementary writers have lately given ihe name of identical triangles to such as agree with each other, both in sides, in angles, and in area. The differences which may exist between them in respect of place, and of relative position (differences wliich do not at all enter into the reasonings of the geometer) seem to have been considered as of so little account in discriminating them as separate objects of thought, that it has been concluded they only form one and the same triangle, in the contemplation of the logician. This idea is very explicitly stated, more than nee, by Aristotle : itx 'at rt ■xoo-oi ey. "Those things are equal whose quantity is the same ;" (Met.iv.c. 16.) and still more precisely in these remarkable words, et rovrots 9 itrortjc • »•«*« i "I" mathematical quantities, equality is identity." (Met.x.c. 3.) For some remarks on this last passage, see note (F.) VOL. II. 12 90 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IL structions for attaining this end, is the object to which the skill and in- vention of the geometer is chiefly directed. Nor is it the geometer alone who reasons upon this principle. If you wish to convince a person of plain understanding, who is quite unac- quainted with mathematics, of the truth of one of Euclid's theorems, it can only be done by exhibiting to his eye, operations, exactly analogous to those which the geometer presents to the understanding. A good example of this occurs in the sensible or experimental illustrations which is sometimes given of the forty-seventh proposition of Euclid's first book. For this purpose, a card is cut into the form of a right angled triangle, and square pieces of card are adapted to the different sides; after which, by a simple and ingenious contrivance, the different squares are so dissected, that those of the two sides are made to cover the same space with the square of the hypothenuse. In truth this mode of com- parison by a superposition, actual or ideal, is the only test of equality which it is possible to appeal to; and it is from this, (as seems from a passage in Proclus to have been the opinion of Apollonius,) that, in point of logical rigour, the definition of geometrical equality should have been taken."* The subject is discussed at great length, and with much acuteness, as well as learning, in one of tbe mathematical lectures of Dr Barrow ; to which I must refer those readers who may wish to see it more fully illustrated. I am strongly inclined to suspect, that most of the writers who have maintained that all mathematical evidence resolves ultimately into the perception of identity, have had a secret reference, in their own minds, to the doctrine just stated ; and that they have imposed ou themselves, by using the words identity and equality as literally synonymous and convertible terms. This does not seem to be at all consistent, cither in point of expression or of fact, with sound logic. When it is affirmed (for instance) that " if two straight lines in a circle intersect each other, " the rectangle contained by the segments of the one is equal to the " rectangle contained by the segments of the other ;" can it with any propriety be said, that the relation between these rectangles may be ♦I do not think, however, that it would be fair, on this account to censure Eu- clid for the arrangement wliich he has adopted, as he has thereby most ingeniously and dexterously contrived to keep out of the view of the student some very puz- zling questions, to which it is not possible to give a satisfactory answer till a con- siderable progress has been made in the elements. When it is stated in the form of a self-evident truth, that magnitudes which coincide, or which exactly fill the same space, are equal to one another; the beginner readily yields his assent to the proposition ; and this assent, without going any farther, is all that is required in any of the demonstrations of the first six hooks : whereas, if the proposition were converted into a definition, by saying, " Equal magnitudes are those which coin- cide, or which exactly fill the same space;'' the question would immediately occur, Are no magnitudes equal, but those to which this test of equality can be applied ? Can tbe relation of equality not subsist between magnitudes which differ from each other in figure ? In reply to this question it would be necessary to explain the de- finit on, by adding, That those magnitudes likewise are said to be equal, which are capable of being divided or dissected in such a manner that the parts of the one may severally coincide with the parts of the other; a conception much too refined and complicated for the generality ot students at their first outset; and which, if it were fully and clearly apprehended, would plunge them at once into the profound speculation concerning the comparison of rectilinear with curvilinear figures. sect, iil] OF THE HUMAN MIND. um."t *«' Cum demonstravit Archimedes circulum aequari rectangulo triangulo cujus basis radio circuli, cathetus peripheriae exaequetur, nil ille, siqais propius atten- dat, aliud quicquam quam aream circuli ceu polygoni regularis indefinite multa latera habentis, in tot dividi posse minutissima triangula, quae totidem exilissimis dicti trianguli trigonis aequentur; eorum vero triangulorum aequalitas e sola con- gruentia demonstratur in dementis. Unde consequenter Archimedes circuli cum triangulo (sibi quantumvis dissimili) congruentiam demonstravit.—Ita congruen- tiae nihil obstat figurarum dissimihtudo -, verum seu similes sive dissimiles sint, modo aequales, semper poterunt semper posse debebunt congruere. Igitur octa- vum axioma vel nullo modo conversum valet, aut universaliter converti potest; nullo modo, si quae isthic habetur congruentia designet actualem congruentiam; universim, si de potentiali tantum accipiatur."—Lectiones Mathematical Sect. V. f The above extract (from a dissertation printed at Berlin in 1764) has long had a very extensive circulation in this country, in consequence of its being quoted by Dr. Beattie? in his Essay on Truth, (see p. 221. 2d. edit.) As the learned author of the essay has not given the slightest intimation of his own opinion on the sub- ject, the doctrine in question has, I suspect, been considered as in some measure sanctioned by his authority. It is only in this way that I can account for the facili- ty with which it has been admitted by so many of our northern logicians. 92 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. II. With respect to this passage I have only to remark (and the ianic thing is observable of every other attempt which has been mode to sup- port the opinion in question,) that the author confounds tw*> things es- sentially different;—the nature of the truths which are the object*, ol a science, and the nature of the eridence by which these truths are estab- lished. Granting, for the sake of argument, that all mathematical pro- positions may be represented by the formula a •= a it would not there- fore follow, that every step of the reasoning leading to these conclusions, was a proposition of the same nature; and lhat. to feel, the full force of a mathematical demonstration, it is sufficient to be convinced of this maxim, that e, try thing may be truly predicated of itself; or, in plain English, that the same is the same. A paper written in cypher, and the interpretation of lhat paper by a skilful decypherer, may, in like manner, be considered as, to all intents and purposes, one and the same thing. They are so, in fact, just as much as one side of an algebraical equation is th same thing with the other. But does it therefore follow, that the whole evidence upon which the art of deciphering proceeds, resolves into the perception of identity ? It may be fairly questioned too, whether il can, with strict correct- ness, be said even ofthe simple arithmetical equation 2 + 2 »= 4, that it may be represented by the formula a = a. The one is a proposition asserting the equivalence cf two different expr ssions;—to ascertain which equivalence may, in numberless cases, be an object of the high- est importance. The other is altogether unmeaning and nugatory, and ca not, by any possible supposition, admit of the slightest application of a practical nature. What opinion then shall we form ofthe proposi- tion a = a, when considered as the representative of such a formula as the binomial theorem of Sir Is-aac Newton ? When applied to the equa- tion 2x2=4 (which from its extreme simplicity and familiarity is apt to be regarded in the light of an axiom) the paradox does not appear to be so manifestly extravagant ; but, in the other case, it seems quite im possible to annex to it any meaning whatever. I should scarcely have been induced to dwell so long on this theory of Leibnitz concerning mathematical evidence, if I had not observed among some late logicians (particularly among the followers of Condil- lac) a growing disposition to extend it to all the different sorts of evi- dence resulting from the various employments of our reasoning powers. Condillac himself states his own opinion on this point with the most per- fect confidence. " Uevidence de raison consiste uniquement dans Ciden- " titS: e'est ce que nous avons demontrfe. II faut que cette veritesoit " bien simple pour avoir echappe a tous les philosophes, quoiqu'ils eus- " sent tant d'inleret a s'assurer de Pevidence, dont ils avoient continu- " ellement le mot dans la b 'uche.'** The demonstration here alluded to is extremely concise; and if we grant the two data on which it proceeds, must be universally acknow- ledged to be irresistible. The first is, " That the evidence of every ma- thematical equation is that of identity :" The second, " That what are " d even to every savage ? And yet the same author objects to the demon- stration of Huyghens, that it depends upon a principle, which (he says) ought not U be granted on this occasion—tha. " when two equal bodies are placed on the arms of a lever, that which is furthest from the fulcrum will preponderate" S€Ct, III.J OF THE HUMAN MIND. 99 ral philosophy, all cur reasonings must be grounded on principles foe which no evidence but that of sense can be obtained ; and the proposi- tions which we establish, differ from ea h other only as they are dedu- ced from such principles immediately, or by the intervention of a ma- thematical demonstration. An experimental proof, therefore, of any particular physical truth, when it can be conveniently obtained-, al- though it may not always be the most elegant or the most expedient way of introducing it to the knowledge ofthe student, is as rigorous and as satisfactory as any other ; for the intervention of a process of mathe- matical reasoning can never bestow on our conclusions a greater degree of certainty than our principles possessed.* I have been led to enlarge on these topics by that unqualified appli- cation of mathematical method to physics, whif'h has been fashionable for many year* past among foreign writers ; and which seems to have originated chiefly iu the commanding influence which the genius and learning of Leibnitz have so long maintained over the scientific taste of most European nations.! In an account, lately published, of the Life * Several of the foregoing remarks were suggested by certain peculiarities of opinion relative to the distinct provinces of experimental and of mathematical evi- dence in the study of physics, which were entertained by my learned and excellent friend, the late Mr. Robison. Though himself a most enlightened and zealous advocate for the doctrine of final causes, he is well known to have formed his scientific taste chiefly upon the mechanical philosophers ofthe continent, and, in consequence of this circumstance, to have undervalued experiment, wherever a possibility offered of introducing mathematical, or even metaphysical reasoning. Of this bias various traces occur, both in his Elements of Mechanical Philosophy, and in the valuable articles which he furnished to the Encyclopaedia Britannica. •j- The following very extraordinary passage occurs in a letter from Leibnitz to Mr. Oldenburg : " Ego id agere constitui, ubi primum otium nactus ero, ut rem omnem me- chanicam reducam ad puram geometriam; problemataque circaelateria, et aquas, et pendula, et projecta, et solidorum resistentiam, et frictiones, &c. definiam. Quae hactenus attigit nemo. Credo autem rem omnem nunc esse in potestate ; ex quo circa regulas motuum mihi penitus perfectis demonstrationibus satisfecti; neque quicquam amplius in eo genere desidero. Tota autem res, quod mireris, pende exaxiomate metaphysico pulc'ierrimo, quod non minoris momenti est circa motum, quam hoc, totum esse majus parte, circa magnitudinem."—CWallisii Opera, Vol. III. p. 633.) The beautifw metaphysical axiom here referred to by Leibnitz, is plainly the principle of the sufficient reason ,- and it is not a little remarkable, that the highest praise which he had to bestow upon it was, to compare it to Euclid's axiom. 11 That the whole is greater than its part." Upon this principle of the sufficient reason, Leibnitz, as is well known, conceived that a complete system of physical science might be built, as he thought the whole of mathematical science resolva- ble into the principles of identity and of contradiction.—By the first of these prinf ciples (it may not be altogether superfluous to add) is to be understood the max- im, " Whatever is, is ;" by the second, the maxim, that " It is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be ;"—two maxims which, it is evident, are only dif- ferent expressions of the same proposition. In the remarks made by Locke on the logical inutility of mathematical axioms, and on the logical danger of assuming metaphysical axioms as the principles of our reasonings in other sciences, I think it highly probable, that he had a secret reference to the philosophical writings and epistolary correspondence of Leibnitz. This appears to me to furnish a key to some of Locke's observations, the scope of which Dr. Reid professes his inability to discover. One sentence, in particular. 100 ELEMENTS OF THE H1ILOSOPHY \chap. h. and Writings of Dr. Reid, I have taken notice of some other inconve- niences resulting: from it, still more important than the introduction of an unsound logic into the elements of natural philosophy ; iu particular Of the obvious tendency which it has to withdraw the attention from that unity of design which it is the noblest employment of philosophy to illustiate, by disguising it under the bemblance of a i eternal and neces sary order, similar to what the mathematician delights to trace among the mutual relations of quantities and figure?. The consequence has been, (in too many physical systems,) to level the study of nature, in point of moral interest, with the investigations ofthe algebraist;—an effect too which has taken place most remarkably, where, from the sub- limity ofthe subject, il was least fobe expected,—in the application of the mechanical philosophy to the phenomena of the heavens. But on this very extensive and important lopic I must not enter at present In the opposite extreme to the error which I have now been en- deavouring to correct, is a paradox which was broached, about twenty year^ ago, by the late ingenious Dr. Beddoes ; and which has since been adopted by some writers whose names are better entitled, on a question of this sort, to give weight to their opinions.* By the parti - on which he has animadverted with some severity, is, in my opinion distinctly pointed at the letter to Mr Oldenburg, quoted in the beginning of this note. " Mr. Locke farther says (I borrow Dr. Reid's own statement) that maxims art not ofu.se to help men forward in the advancement of the sciences, or new discov- eries of jet unknown truths : that Newton, in the discoveries he has made in his never enough lo be admin d book, has not been assisted by the general maxim, whatever is, is ; or the whole is greater than a part, or the like.*' As ihe letter to Oldenburg is dated in 1676, (twelve years before the publica- tion of he Essay on Human Understanding) and as Leibnitz expresses a desire that it may be communicated o Mr Newton, there can scarcely be a doubt that Locke had read it; and it reflects infinite honour on his sagacity, that he seems, at that early period, to have foreseen the extensive influence wh.ch the errors ol this illustrious man were so long to maintain over the opinions ot the learned world. The truth is, that even then he prepared a reply to some reasonings which, at the distance of a century, were to mislead, both in physics and in logic, the first phi- losophers in Europe. If these conjee i uresbe well founded, it must be acknowledged that Dr. Reid has not only faded in his defence of maxims against Locke's attack ; but that he has totally misapprehended the aim of Locke's argument. " I answer (says he, in the paragraph immediately following that which was quoted above,) the first of ihese maxims (whatever is, ii) is an identical proposi- tion, of no U'e in mathematics, or in any other science The second, (that the whol> is greater than a part) is often used by Newton, and by all mathematicians, and many demonstrations rest upon it. In general, Newton, as well as all other mathematicians, grounds his demonstrations of mathematical propositions upon the axioms laid down by Euclid, or upon propositions which have been before demon- strated by help of these axioms. " But it deserves to be particularly observed, that Newton, intending in the third bos Mathematical and Philsophical Dictionary. Article, Ferguson. * The same remark was, more than fifty years ago, made by D'Alembert, in re- ply to 9ome mathematicians on the continent, who, it would appear, had then adopted a paradox very nearly approaching to that which I am now combating. " Le principe de la superposition n'est point, comme l'ont preTendu plusieurs g#. ometres, une mgthode de dSmontrer peu exacte et puremente mechanique. La superposition, telle que les mathematiciens la concoivent, ne consiste pas k appli- quer grossierement une figure sur une autre, pour juger par les yeux de leur e^ra- lite" ou de leur difference, comme un ouvrier applique son piS sur une ligne pour la mesurer ; elle consiste a imaginer une figure transportee sur une autre, et a con- clure de l'igalitg suppossSe de certaines parties de deux figure?, la coincidence de ces parties entr'elles, et de leur coincidence la coincidence du reste : d'ou r€ suite l'egalite et la similitude parfaites des figures entieres.'" About a century before the time when D'Alembert wrote these observations a similar view of the subject was taken by Dr. Barrow : a writer who, like D'Alem- bert, added to the skill and originality of an inventive mathematician, the most re- fined, and, at the same time, the justest ideas concerning the theory of those intel- lectual processes which are subservient to mathematical reasoning»—KUnde merito VOL. II. 14 - 106 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap, II. That the reasoning employed by Euclid in proof of the fourth propo- sition of his first book is completely demonstrative, will be readily grant- ed by those who compare its different steps with the conclusions to which we were formerly led, when treating ofthe nature of mathemati- cal demonstration. In none of these steps is any appeal made to facts resting on the evidence of sense, nor indeed to any facts whatever. The constant appeal is to the definition of equality.* " Let the triangle A " B C (says Euclid) be applied to the triangle D E F; the point A to '• the point D, and the straight line A B to the straight line D E ; the '• point B wiU coincide with the point E, because A Bis equal to D B. " And A B coinciding with D E, A C will coincide with D F, because the " angle B AC is equal to the angle E D F." A similar remark will be found to apply to every remaining step ofthe reasoning ; and therefore, this reasoning possesses the peculiar characteristic which distinguishes mathematical evidence from that of all the other sciences,—that it rests wholly on hypothesis and definitions, and in no respect upon any state- ments of facts, true or false. The ideas, indeed, of extension, of a tri- angle, and of equality, presuppose the exercise of our senses. Nay, the very idea of superposition involves that of motion, and consequently, (as the parts of space are immoveable) of a material triangle. But where is there any thing analogous, in all this, to those sensible facts, which are the principles of our reasoning in physics; and which, according at they have been accurately or inaccurately ascertained, determine the accuracy or inaccuracy of our conclusions ? The material triangle itself, as conceived by the mathematician, is the object, not of sense, but of in- tellect. It is not an actual measure, liable to expansion or contraction, from the influence of heat or of cold ; nor does it require, in the ideal use which is made of it by the student, the slightest address of hand or nicety of eye. Even in explaining this demonstration, for the first time, k'w acutissimus Willebrordus Snellius luculentissimum appellat geometriae supel- lectilis'instrumentum hanc ipsam g$xpp.oo~i*.Eamigiturin demonstrationibus math. ematicis qui fastidiunt et\respuunt, ut mechanicae crassitudinisac ctvTovpyiXf aliquid redoentem, ipri t.'mam geometriae basin labefactare student»• ast imprudenter etfrus- tra Nam«p*f/t«p I have quoted these different passages from ancient authors, chiefly as an illustration ofthe strength and of the similarity of the impression which the order of nature has made on the minds of reflecting men, in all ages of the world. Nor is this wonderful; for, were things different- ly constituted, it would b^ impossible for man to derive benefit from ex- perience ; and the powers of observation and memory would be subser- vient only to the gratification of an idle curiosity. In consequence of those uniform laws by which the succession of events is actually regu- lated, every fact collected with respect to the past is a foundation of sagacity and of skill with respect to the future; and, in truth, it is chiefly this application of experience to anticipate what is yet to hap- pen, which forms the intellectual superiority of one individual above another. The remark holds equally in all the various pursuits of man- kind, whether speculative or active. As an astronomer is able, by rea- sonings founded on past observations, to predict those phenomena of the heavens which astonish or terrify the savage ;—as the chemist, from his previous familiarity with the changes operated upon bodies by heat or by mixture, can predict the result of innumerable experiments, which to others furnish only matter of amusement and wonder;—so a studious observer of human affairs acquires a prophetic foresight (still more in- comprehensible to the multitude) with respect to the future fortunes of mankind ;—a foresight, which, if it does not reach, like our anticipations in physical science, to particular and definite events, amply compen- sates for what it wants in precision, by the extent and variety of the prospects which it opens. It is from this apprehended analogy between the future and the past, that historical knowledge derives the whole of its value; and were the analogy completely to fail, the records of for- mer ages would, in point of utility, rank with the fictions of poetry. Nor is the case different in the business of common life. Upon what does the success of men in their private concerns so essentially depend, as on their own prudence ; and what else does this word mean, than a wise regard, in every step oftheir conduct, to the lessons which experience has taught them ?•* The departments ofthe universe in which we have an opportunity of seeing this regular order displayed, are the three following: 1. The phenomena of inanimate matter; 2. The phenomena of the lower ani- mals ; and, 3. The phenomena exhibited by the human race. 1. On the first of these heads, I have only to repeat what was before remarked, That, in all the phenomena of the material world, the uni- formity iu the order of events is conceived by us to be complete and in- fallible ; in so much that, to be assured ofthe same result upon a repeti- tion of ihe same experiment, we require only to be satisfied, that both have been made in circumstances precisely similar. A single experi- ment, accordingly, if conducted with due attention, is considered, by the most cautious inquirers, as sufficient to establish a general physical fact; and if, on any occasion, it should be repeated a second time, for the sake of greater certainty in the conclusion, it is merely with a view of guarding against the effects of the accidental concomitants which may have escaped notice, when the first result was obtained. • " Prudentiam quodammodo esse divinationem." Corn. Nep. in vita Attici. 116 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. II- 2. The case is nearly similar in the phenomena exhibited by the brutes; the various trihes of which furnish a subject of examination so steady, that the remarks made on a few individuals may be extended, with lit- tle risk of error, to the whole species. To this uniformity in then- in- stincts it is owing, that man can so easily maintain his empire over them, and employ them as agents or instruments for accomplish ng his nnrp"ses ; advantages which would be wholly lost to him, if the opera- tions of instinct w re as much diversified as those of human reason. H re therefore we may plainly trace a purpose or design, perfectly analogous to that already remarked, with respect to the laws which regulate the material world; and the difference, in p int of exact uni- formity, which distinguishes the two classes of events, obviously arises from a certain latitude of action, which enables the brutes lo accommo- date themselves, in some measure, to their accidental situations ;—ren- dering them, in consequence of this power of accommodation, incom- parably more serviceable to our race than they would have been, if al- together subjected, like mere matter, to the influence of regular and as- signable causes. It is, moreover extremely worthy of observation, con- cerning these two departments of the universe, that the uniformity iu the phenomena of the latter presupposes a corresponding regularity in the pnenomena ofthe former; in so much that, if the established order ofthe material world were to be essentially disturbed (the instincts of the biutesre- ainin great concerns of human life. These lessons re- qui:e, indeed, an uncommon degree of acuteness and good sense to col- lect them, and a still more uncommon degree of caution to apply them to practice; not only because it is difficult to find rases in which the combinations of circumstances are exactlythe same; but because the pe- culiarit es of individual character are infinite, and the real springs of action in our fellow creatures are objects only of vague and doubtful conjecture It \±, however, a curious fact, and one which opens a wide field of interesting speculation, that, in proportion as we extend our views from particulars to generals, and from individuals to communi- ties, human affairs exhibit, more and more, a steady subject of phi- losophical examination, and furnish a greater number of general con- clusions, to guide our conjectures concerning future contingencies. To speculate concerning the character or talents of the individual who shall possess the thrones of a particular kingdom, a hundred years hence, would be absurd in the extreme: But to indulge imagination in anticipating:, at the same distance of time, the condition and character of any great nation, with whose manners and political situation we are well acquainted, (although even here our conclusions may be widely er- rone us could not be justly censured as a misapplication of our facul- ties equally vain and irrational with the former. On this subject, Mr, Sect. IV.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 117 Hume has made some very ingenious and important remarks in the be- ginning of his Essay on the Rise and Progress of the Art-and Sciences. The same observation is applicable to all other cases,in which eve ts depend on a multiplicity of circumstances. IIow accidental soever th' se circumstances may appear; aid how much soever they may be placed, when individually considered, beyond the reach of our calculations, ex- perience shows that they are somehow or other mutually adjusted, so as to produce a certain degree of uniformity in the result ; and this uni- formity is the more'complete, the greater is the number of circumstan- ces combined. What can a pear more uncertain than the proportion between the sexes among the children of any one family ! and yet how wonderfully is the balance preserved in the case of a numerous society ! What more precarious than the duration oflife in an individual; and yet, in a long list of persons of the same age, and placed iu the same cir< urn-? stances, the mean duration of life is found to varv within very narrow limits In an extensive district, too, a considerable degree of regularity may sometimes be traced for a course ofyears, in the proportion of births and of deaths to the number ofthe whole inhabitants. Thus, in France, Necker informs u«, that " the number of births is in proportion to that " ofthe inhabitants as one to twenty three and twenty four, in the dis- " tricts that are not favoured by nature, nor by moral circumstances : this " proportion is as one to twentv-five, twenty five and a half, and twen- ty-six, in the greatest part of France : in cities, as one lo twenty-se- " ven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, and even thirty, according to their " extent and their trade." " Such proportions (he observes; can only " be remarked in districts where there are no settlers nor emigrants ; but " even the differences arising trom these (the same author adds,) and i( many other cau-es, acquire a kind of uniformity when colle' tively " considered, and in the immense extent of so great a kingdom."* It may be worth while to remark, that it is on these principles that all the different institutions for Assurances are found. The object at which they all aim, in common, is, to diminish the number of accidents to which human life is exposed ; or rather, to counteract the inconve- niences resulting from the irregularity of individual events, by the uni- formity of general laws. The advantages which we derive from such general conclusions as we possess concerning the order of nature, are so great, and our pro- pensity to believe in its existence is so strong,-that, even in cases where the succession of events appears the most anomalous, we are apt to sus- pect the operation of fixed and constant laws, though we may be un- able to trace them. The vulgar, in all countries, perhaps, have a pro- pensity to imagine, that, after a certain number of > ears, the succession of plentiful and of scanty harvests begins again to be repeated in the same series as before;—a notion to which Lord Bacon himself has given some countenance in the following passage. "There is a toy which I " have heard, and I would not have it given over, but waited upon a " little. They say it is observed in the Low countries, (1 know not in " what part) that every five and thirty years, the same kind and suite " ofyears and weathers comes about again ; as great frosts, great wet " great droughts, warm winters, summers with little heat, and the like • * Traite" de 1'Administration des Finances de France. 118 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IL lt and they call il thepritne. It is a thing I do the rather mention, bc- C4 cause, computing backwards, I have found some concurrence."* Among the philosophers of antiquity, the influence of the same pre- judice is observable on a scale still greater; many of them having sup- posed, that at the end of the anntis magnus, or Platonic year, a repeti- tion would commence of all the transactions lhat have occurred on the theatre of the world. According to this doctrine, the predictions in Virgil's Pollio will, sooner or later, be literally accomplished: " Alter erit turn tiphys, et altera quae veliat Argo Delectos Heroas ; erunt etiam altera bella; A:que iterum ad Trojam magnus mittetur Achillea.*'! The astronomical cycles which the Greeks borrowed from the Egyp- tians and Chaldeans, when combined with that natural bias of the mind which I have just remarked, account sufficiently for this extension to the moral world, of ideas suggested by theorder of physical phenomena. Nor is this hypothesis of a moral cycle, extravagant as it unquestion- ably is. without its partizms among modern theorists. The train of thought, indeed, by which they have been led to adopt it. is essentially different; hut it probably received no small degree of countenance, in their opinion, from the same bias which influenced the speculations of the ancients. It has been demonstrated by one of the most profound mathematicians of the present age J that all the irregularities arising from the mutual action ofthe planets, are, by a combination of various arrangements, necessarily subjected to certain periodical laws, so as for- ever to secure the stability and order of the system. Of this sublime conclusion, it has been justly and beautifully observed, that " after " Newton's theory ofthe elliptic orbits of the planets, La Grange's dis- " covery of their periodical inequalities is, without doubt, the noblest " truth in physical astronomy ; while, in respect ofthe doctrine of final " causes, it may truly be regarded as the greatest of all."^ The theo- rists, however, to whom I at present allude, seem disposed to consider it in a very different light, and to employ it for purposes of a very differ- ent tendency. " Similar periods (it has been said) but of an extent that " affrights the imagination, probably regulate the modifications of the '• atmosphere ; in as much as the same series of appearances must inevi- " tably recur, whenever a coincidence of circumstances takes place, " the aggregate labours of men, indeed, may be supposed, at first sight, ;: lo alter the operation of natural causes, by contiriually transforming * Essays, Art. 59. + "Tum efficitur (says Cicero, speaking of this period) cum solis et lunae, elr quinque errantium ad eandem inter se comparationem confcctis omnium spatiis, est facta conversio. Quae quam longa sit, magna quaestio est: esse vero certam et definitam necesse est.11' De Nat. Deorum, I. b. ii. 74.) " Hoc intcrvallo (Clavius observes) quidam volunt, omnia quaecunque in mundo sunt, eodem ordine esse reditura, quo nunc cernuntur." (~Clav, Commentar. in Sphaeram Joannis de Sacra Bosco, p. 57, Romae, 1607.) : M. de la Grange. § Edinburgh Review, Vol. XL p. 264 sect. iv.J OF THE HUMAN MIND. 119 " the face of our globe; but it must be recollected that, as the agency " of animals is itself stimulated and determined solely by the influence " of external objects, the re-actions of living beings are comprehended "in the same necessary system ; and, consequently, that all the events " within the immeasurable circuit ofthe universe, are the successive " evolution of an extended series, which, at the returns of some vast pe- " riod, repeats its eternal round during the endless flux of time."* On this very bold argument, considered in its connexion with the scheme of necessity, I have nothing to observe here. I have mentioned it merely as an additional proof of that irresistible propensity to believe in the permanent order of physical events, which seems to form an ori- ginal principle of the human constitution;—a belief essential to our ex- istence in the world which we inhabit, as well, as the foundation of all physical science ; but which#ve obviously extend far beyond the bounds authorized by sound philosophy, when we apply it, without any limita- tion, to that moral system, which is distinguished by peculiar character- istics so numerous and important, and for the accommodation of which, so many reasons entitle us to presume, that the material universe, with all its constant and harmonious laws, was purposely arranged. To a hasty and injudicious application of the same belief, in antici- pating the future course of human affairs, might be traced a variety of popular superstitions, which have prevailed in a greater or less degree, in all nations and ages; those superstitions, for example, which have given rise to the study of charms, of omens, of astrology v and of the dif- ferent arts of divination. But the argument has beeii already prosecuted as far as its connexion with this part of the subject requires. For a fuller illustration ofit, I refer to some remarks in my former volume, on the superstitious observances which, among rude nations, are constantly found blended with the practice of physic; and which, contemptible and ludicrous as they seem, have an obvious foundation, during the in- fancy of human reason, in those important principles of our nature, which, when duly disciplined by a more enlarged experience, lead to the sublime discoveries of inductive science. Nor is it to the earlier stages of society, or to the lower classes ofthe people, that these superstitions are confined. Even in the most enlight- ened and refined periods they occasionally appear ; exercising, not un- frequently, over men of the highest genius and talents, an ascendant, which is at once consolatory and humiliating to the species. " Ecce fulgurum monitus,oiaculorum praescita,aruspicumpraedicta, " atque etiam parvadictu in auguriissternutamenia etoffensiones pedum. " Divus Augustus laevum prodidit sibi calceum praepostere inductum, " quo die seditione mititari prope afflictus est "t " Dr. Johnson (says his affectionate and very communicative biogra- 'c pher) had another peculiarity, of which none of his friends ever ven- '' tured to ask an explanation. It appeared to me some superstitious "* habit, which he had contracted early, and from which he had never • The foregoing passage is transcribed from an article in the Monthly Review. I have neglected to mark the volume; but I think it is one of those published since 1800. See Mote (1.) t Plin. Nat. Hist. Lib. ii. 120 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. II. **■ called upon his reason to disentangle him. This was, his anxious care li to go out or in at a door or passage, by a certain number of hteps from "' a certain point, or at least so as that either his right or his left foot '« (I am not certain which) should constantly make the first actual move- " ment when he came close to the door or passage. Thus I conjec- tl ture : for I have, upon innumerable occasions, observed him suddenly " stop, and then seem to count his steps with a deep earue.-tness ; and '• when he had neglected or gone wrong in this sort of magical move- " ment, I have seen him go back again, put himself in a proper posture " to begin the ceri-nony. and, having gone through it, break from his " abstraction, walk briskly on, and joined his companion.*'* The remark may appear somewhat out of place, but, after the last quotation, I may be permitted to say, that the person to whom it relates, great as his powers, and splendid as his accomplishments undoubtedly were, was scarcely entitled to assert, thai '" K.ducation is as well known, " and ha> long been as well known, as ever it can be."t What a limited estimate ofthe objects of education must this great man have formed ! They who know the value of a well regulated and unclouded mind, would not in ur the weakness and wretchedness exhibited in the fore- going description, for all his literary acquirements and literary fame. III. Continuation of tlie Subject.—General Remarks on tbe Difference between the Evidence of Experience, and tbat of Analogy. According to the account of experience which has been hitherto given, its evidence reaches no farther than to an anticipation of the future from the past, in cases where the same physical cause continues to operate in exactly the same circumstances. That this statement is agreeable to the strict philosophical notion of experience, will not be disputed Wherever a change takes place, either in the cause itself, or in the circumstances combined with it in our former trials, the anti- cipations which we form ofthe future cannot with propriety be referred to experience alone, but to experience co-operating with some other principles of our nature. In common discourse, however, precision in the use of language is not lo be expected, where logical or metaphysi- cal ideas are at all concerned; and, therefore, it is not to be wondered at, that the word experience should often be employed with a latitude greatly beyond what the former definition authorizes. When I transfer, for example, my conclusions concerning the descent of heavy bodies from one stone to another stone, or even from a stone lo a leaden bullet, my inference might be said, with sufficient accuracy for the ordinary purposes of speech, to have the evidence of experience in its favour; if indeed it would not savour of scholastic affectation to aim at a more rigorous enunciation ofthe proposition. Nothing at the same time, can be more evident than this, that the slightest shade of difference which tends to weaken the resemblance, or rather to destroy the identity of * Boswell's Johnson, Vol. Lp. 264,4to edit. tIbld- Vo1* *• P* 514i sect, iv.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 121 two cases, invalidates the inference from tire one to the other, as far as it rests on experience solely, no less than the most prominent dissimili- tudes which characterize the different kingdoms and departments of nature. Upon what ground do I conclude lhat the thrust of a sword through my body, in a particular direction, would be followed by instant death ? According to the popular use of language, the obvious answer would be,—upon experience, and experience alone- But surely this account ofthe matter isextremely loose and incorrect; for where is the evidence that the internal structure of my body bears any resemblance to that of any of the other bodies which have been hitherto examined by anato- mists ? It is no answer lo this question to tell me, that the experience of these anatomists has ascertained a uniformity of structure in every human subject which has as yet been dissected ; and lhat therefore I am justified in concluding, that my body forms no exception to the gene- ral rule. My question does not relate to the soundness of this inference, but to the principle of my nature, which leads me thus not only to reason from the past to the future, but to reason from one thing to another, which, in its external marks, bears a certain degree of resemblance to it. Something more than experience, in the strictest sense of that word, is surely necessary to explain the transition from what is identically the same, to what is only similar; and yet my inference in this instance is made with the most assured and unqualified confidence in the infallibili- ty of the result. No inference, founded on the most direct and long con- tinued experience, nor indeed any proposition established by mathema- tical demonstration, could more imperiously command my assent. In whatever manner the province of experience, strictly so called, comes to be thus enlarged, it is perfectly manifest, that without some provision for this purpose, the principles of our constitution would not have been duly adjusted to the scene in which we have to a*t. Were we not so formed as eagerly to seize the resembling features of different things and different events, and lo extend our conclusions from the in- dividual to the species, life would elapse before we had acquired the first rudiments of that knowledge which is essential to the preservation of our animal existence. This step in the history ofthe human mind has been little, if at all, attended to by philosophers; and it is certainly not easy to explain, in a manner completely satisfactory, how it is made. The following hints seem to me to go a considerable way towards a solution of the dif- ficulty. It is remarked by Mr. Smith, in his Considerations on the Formation of Languages, that the origin of genera and species, which is commonly represented in the schools as the effect of an intellectual process pecu- liarly mysterious and unintelligible, is a natural consequence of our dis- position to transfer to a new object the name of any other familiar object which possesses such a degree of resemblance to it, as to serve the me- mory for an associating tie between them, it is in this manner, he has shown, and not by any formal or scientific exercise of abstraction,that, in the infancy of language, proper names are gradually transformed into appellatives; or, in other words, that individual things come to be re- ferred to classes or assortments.* * A writer of great learning and ability (Dr. Magee of Dublin) who has done VOL. II. 16 122 ELEMENTS OF IHE PHILOSOPHY [chap. II. This remark becomes, in my opinion, much more luminous and im- portant, by being combined with another very original one, which is as- cribed to Turgot by Condorcet, and which I do not recollect to have seen taken notice of by any later writer on the human mind Accord- ing to the common doctrine of logicians, we are led to suppose that our knowledge begins in an accurate and minute acquaintance with the characteristical properties of individual objects; and that it is only by the slow exercise of comparison and abstraction, that we attain to the notion of classes or genera. In opposition to this idea, it was a maxim of Turgot's, that some of our most abstract and general notions are among the earliest which we form.* What meaning he annexed to this maxim, we are not informed ; but if he understood it in the same sense in which I am disposed to interpret it, he appears to me entitled to the credit of a very valuable suggestioH with respect to the natural progress of human knowledge. The truth is, that our first perceptions lead us invariably to confound together things which have very little iu com- mon ; and that the specifical differences of individuals do not begin to be marked with precision till the powers of observation and reasoning have attained to a certain degree of maturity. To a similar indistinct- ness of perception are to be ascribed the mistakes about the most familiar appearances which we daily see committed by those domesticated ani- mals with whose instincts and habits we have an opportunity of be- coming intimately acquainted. As an instance of this, it is sufficient to mention the terror which a horse sometimes discovers in passing, on the road, a large s'one, or the waterfall of a mill. Notwithstanding, however, the justness of this maxim, it is neverthe- less true, that every scientific classification must be founded ou an exami- nation and comparison of individuals. '1 hese individuals must, in the first instance, have been observed with accuracy, before their specific characteristics could be rejected from the generic description, so as to limit the attention to the common qualities which it comprehends — What are usually called general ideas or general notionst are therefore of two kinds essentially different from each other; those which are gen- eral, merely from the vagueness and irnpeifection of our information; and tho&e which have been methodically generalized, in the way ex- me the honour to animadvert on a few passages of my works, and who has softened his criticisms by some expressions of regard, by which I feel myself highly flatter- ed, has started a very acute objection to this theory of Mr. Smith, which I think it incumbent on me to submit to my readers, in his own words. A-. the quotation, however, witb the remarks which I have to offer upon it, would extend to too great a length to be introduced here, I must delay entering on the subject till the end of this volume. See note (K.) * " M. Turgot croyoit qu'on s'£toit trompe en imaginant qu'en general l'esprit n'acquiert des id£es generates ou abstraites que par la comparaison d'id6es plus particulieres. Au contraire, nos premieres idees sont tres geYiGrales, puisque ne voyant, d'abord qu'un petit nombre de qualites, notre id6e renferme tous les etres auxquels ces qualites sont communes. En nous Sclairant, en examinant duvan- tage, nos idees deviennent plus particulieres sans jamais atteindre le dernier terme; et ce qui a pu tromper les mGtapliysiciens, e'est qu'alors prtcise'ment nous ap- prenons que ces idees sont plus generates que nous ne I'avions d'abord suppose^'" Viede 1'wgot, p. 189. Berne, 1787. I have searched in vain for some additional light on this interesting bint, in the complete edition of Turgot's works, published at Paris in 1808. sect, iv.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 123 plained by logicians, in consequence of an abstraction founded on a careful study of particulars. Philosophical precision requires, that two sets of notions, so totally dissimilar, should not be confounded together; and an attention to the distinction between them will be found to throw much light on various important steps in the natural history of the mind.* One obvious effect of the grossness and vagueness in the perceptions ofthe inexperienced observer, must necessarily be to identify, under the same common appellations, immense multitudes of individuals, which the philosopher will afterwards find reason to distingnish care- fully from each other; and as language, by its unavoidable reaction on thought, never fails to restore to it whatever imperfections it has once received, all the indistinctness which, in the case of individual observers, originated in an ill-formed judgment, or in a capricious fancy, comes afterwards, in succeeding ages, to be entailed on the infant understand- ing, in consequence of its incorporation with vernacular speech. These confused apprehensions produced by language, must, it is easy lo see, operate exactly in the same way as ihe undistinguishing perceptions of children or savages; the familiar use of a generic word, insensibly and irresistibly leading the mind to extend its conclusions from the in- dividual to the genus, and thus laying the foundation of conclusions and anticipations which we suppose to rest on experience, when, in truth, experience has never been consulted. In all such instances, it is worthy of observation, we proceed ulti- mately on the common principle,—that, in similar circumstances, the same cause will produce the same effects ; and, when we err, the source of our error lies merely in identifying different cases which ought to be distinguished from each other. Great as may be the occasional in- conveniences, arising from this general principle thus misapplied, they bear no proportion to the essential advantages resulting from the dispo- sition in which they originate, to arrange and to classify; a disposition on which (as I have elsewhere shown,) the intellectual improvement of the species in a great manner hinges. That the constitution of our na- ture in this respect is, on the whole, wisely ordered, as well as perfectly conformable to the general economy of our frame, will appear from a slight survey cf some other principles, nearly allied to those which are at present under our consideration. It has been remarked by some eminent writers in this part of the * The distinction above stated, furnished what seems to me the true answer to an argument which Charron, and many other writers since his time, have drawn, in proof of tbe reasoning powers of brutes, from the universal conclusions which they appear to found on the observation of particulars. Les bestes des singuliers conclucnt les universels, du regard d'un homme seul cognoissent tous hommes," &c. &c. De la Sagesse, Lib. I. Chap. 8. Instead of saying, that brutes generalize things which are similar, would it not be nearer the truth to say, that they confound things which are different? M.;ny years after these observations, were written, I had the satisfaction to meet with the following experimental confirmation of them in the Abbe" Sicard's Course of Instruction for ihe Deaf and Dumb: "J'avois remarque que Massieu don- noit plus volontiers le meme nom, un nom commun, a plusieurs individu* dans lesquels il trouvoit des iraitsde ressemblance; les noms individuels supposoient des differences qu'il n'fiioit pas encore temps de lui faire observer." (Sicard, pp. 30,31.) The whole ofthe passage is well worth consulting. 124 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY chup. IL island,* lhat our expectation ofthe continuance of the laws of nature has a very close ifli'dty to our faith in human testimony. The parallel miuhl perhaps be carried, without any over-refinement, a little further than these writers have attempted; in as mu h as, in both cases, the instinctive principle is in the first instance unlimited, and requires, for its correction and regulation, the lessons f subsequent experience As the credulity of children is originally without bounds, and is afterwards gradually check"d by the examples which they occasionally meet with of human falsehood, so, in the infancy of our knowledge, whatever ob- jects or evenL* present lo our senses a strong resemblance to each other, dispose us, without any very accurate examination ofthe minute details by which Ihey may be really discriminated, to conclude with eager- ness that the experiments and observations which we n-ake with re- spect to one individual, may be safely extended to the whole class Ii is experience alone that teaches us caution in such inferences, and subjects the natural principle to the discipline pres ribed by the rules of induc- tion. It must not, however, be imagined, that, in instances of this sort, the instinctive principle alway- leads us astray ; for the analogical anticipa- tions which it disposes us to form, although they may not stand the test o£a rigorous examination, may yet be sufficiently just for all the com- mon purposes if life It is natural, for example, that a man who hag been educated in Europe should expect, when he changes his residence to a y of the other quarters of the globe, to see heavy bodies fall down- wards, and smoke to ascend, HgreeaMy to the general laws to which he ha- been accustomed ; and that he should take for granted, in providing the means ot his subsistence, that the animals and vegetables, which he has found to be salutary and nutricious in his native regions, possess the same qualities wherever they exhibit the same appearances. Nor are such expectations less useful than natural; for they are completely re- alized, as far as they minister to the gratification of our more urgent wants. It is only when we begin to indulge our curiosity with respect to ihose nicer details which derive their interest from great refinement in the arts, or from a very advanced state of physical knowledge, that we discover our first ■ onclusions, however just iu the main, not to be mathematically exact; and are led by those habits which scientific pur- suits communicate, to investigate the difference of circumstances to which the variety in the re.-ult is owing. After having found that hea- vy bodies fail downwards at the equator as they do in this island, the most obvious, and perhaps, on a superficial view of the question, the most reasonable inference would be, that the same pendulum which swings seconds at London, will vibrate at the same rate under the line. In this instance, however, the theoretical inference is contradicted by the fact;—hut the contradiction is attended with no practical inconve- nience to the multitude, while, iu the mind of the philosopher, it only serveb to awaken his attention to the different circumstances of the two case, and, in the last result, throws a new lustre on the simplicity and * See Reid's Inquiry into the Human Mind, Chap. VI. sect. 24. Campb ll's Dis- serta ion <>n Miracles, Part I. sect. i. Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments, Vol. II. p. 206, &c. Boston edition. sect. iv.J OF THE HUMAN MIND. 126 uniformity of that law, from which it seemed, at first sight, an anoma- lous deviation. To this uniformity in the laws which regulate the order of physical events, there is something extremely similar in the systematical regular- ity (subject indeed lo many exceptions) which, in every language, how- ever imperfect, runs through the different classes of its words, in re-pect oftheir inflections forms of derivation, and other verbal filiations or affinities How much this regularly or analogy (as it is cahed by gram- marians,) contributes to facilitate the acquisition of dead and foreign languages, every person, who has received a liberal education, knows from his own experience. Nor is it less manifest, that the same cii- um- stance must contribute powerfully to aid the memories of children in learning to speak their mother tongue. It is not my present business to trace the principles in the human mind by which it is produced, -vII that I would remark is, the very early period at which it is seized by children; as is strongly evinced by their disposition lo push it a great deal too far, in their first attempts towards speech. This disposition seems to be closely connected with that which leads them to repose faith in testimony; and il also bears a striking resemblance to that which prompts them to extend their past experience to those objects and events of which they have not hitherto had any means of acquiring a direct knowledge It is probable, indeed, that our expectation, in ail these cases, has its origin in the same common principles of our nature; and it is certain that, in all of ihem, it is sub ervient to the important pur- pose of facilitating the progress ofthe mind. Of this nobody can doubt, who considers for a moment, that the great end to be fi st accomplish- ed, was manifestly the communication of the general ride; the acquisi' tion ofthe exceptions (a knowledge of which is but of secondary impor- tance,) being safely entrusted to the growing diligence and capacity of the learner. The considerations now stated, may help us to conceive in what man- ner conclusions derived from experience come to be insensibly extended from the individual to the species; partly in consequence of the gross and undistinguishing nature of our first perceptions, and partly in conse- quence of ihe magical influence of a common name. They seem also to show, that this natural process of thought, though not always justified by a sound logic, is not without its use in the infancy of human know- ledge. In the various cases which have been hitherto under our review, our conclusions are said in popular, and even in philosophical language, to be founded on experience. And yet the truth unquestionably is, (as was formerly observed) that the evidence of experience rea< hes no farther than to an anticipation of the fu ure from the past, in instances where the same cause continues to operate in circumstances exactly similar. How much this vagueness of expression must contribute to mislead us in many of oui judgments will afterwards appear. The observation- which I have !o offer upon aualogy, considered as a ground of scientific conjecture and reasoning, will be introduced with more propriety in a future chapter. 126 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [^P* n* IV. Continuation ofthe Subject.—Evidence of Testimony tacitly recognized as a Ground of Bebef, in our mo-« certain conclusion-, concerning con'ingent Truths.—Differ- ence between the Logical and the Popular Meaning of the word Probability. In some of the conclusions which have bpen already under our con- sideration with r» spect to contingent truths, a species of evidence is ad- mitted, of which no mention has hitherto been made; I mean the evi- dence of testimony. In astronomical calculations, for example, how few are the instances in which the data rest on the evidence of our own sen- ses; aod yet our confidence in the result is not, on that account, in the smallest degree weak tied. On the contrary, what certainty can be more com:>lete, than that with whl-h we look In. ward to an eclipse of the sun or the moon, on the faith of elements and A' computations which we have nevpr verified, and for the accuracy of which wp have no ground of assurance whatever, bul the s- ientifir reputation ofthe wri- ters from whom we have borrowed them. An astronomer who should affect any scepticism with respect to an eveflt so predicted, wopld ren- der himself no less an object of ridicule, than if he were disposed to ca- vil about the certainly of the sun's rising to-morrow. Even in pure mathematics, a similar regard to testimony, accompani- ed with a similar faith in the faculties of others, is hy no means uncom- mon. Who would scruple, in a geometrical investigation, lo adopt, as a link in 'he chain, a theorem of Apollonius or of Archimedes, although he n.ic:r)t not have leisure at the moment to satisfy himself, by an actu- al examination of their demonstrations, that they bad been guilty «»f no paralogism, either from accident or design, in the course oftheir reason- ings ? In our anticipations of astronomical phenomena, as well as in those which we form concerning the result of any familiar experiment in phy- sics, philosophers are accustomed to speak ofthe events as only proba- ble; although our confidence in its happening is not less complete, than if it rested on the basis of mathematical demonstration. The word probable, therefore, when thus used, does not imply any deficiency in the proof, but only marks the particular nature of that proof, as contradis- tinguished from another species of evidence. It is opposed, not to what is certain, but to what admits of being demonstrated after the manner of mathematicians. This differs widely from the meaning annexed to the same word in popular discourse ; according to which, whatever event is said to be probable, is understood to be expected with some degree of doubt. As certain as dca'h—as certain as the rising ofthe sun—are pro- verbial modes of expression in all countries; and they are, both of them borrowed from events which, in philosophical language, are only proba- ble or contingent. In like manner, the existence of the city of Pekin, and the rea ity of Caesar's assassination, which the philosopher classes with probabilities, because they rest solely upon the evidence of testimo- ny, are universally classed with certainties by the rest of mankind ; and in any case but the statement of a logical theory, the application to such truths ofthe word probable, would be justly regarded as an impro- sect, iv.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 127 priety of speech. This difference between the technical meaning ofthe word probability, as employed by logicians, and the notion usually at- tached to it in the business of life; together with the erroneous theories concerning the nature of demonstration, which I have already endea- voured to refute,—have led many authors ofthe highest name, in some of the most important arguments which can em;-loy human reason,to over- look that irresistible evidence which was placed before their eyes, in search of another mode of proof altogether unattainable in moral inqui- ries, and which, if it could be attained, would not be less liable to the cavils of sceptics. But although, in philosophical language, the epithet probable be ap- plied to events which are acknowledged to be certain, it is also applied to those events which are called probable by the vulgar. The philoso- phical meaning ofthe word, therefore, is more comprehensive than the popular ; the former denoting that particular species of evidence of which contingent truths admit; the latter being co:.fined to such degrees of this evidence as fall short of the highest. These different degrees of probability the philosopher considers as a series, beginning with bare possibility, and terminating in that apprehended infallibility, with which the phrase moral certainty is synonymous. To this last term ofthe series the word probable is, in its ordinary acceptation, plainly inapplicable. The satisfaction which the astronomer derives from the exact coin- cidence, in point of time, between his theoretic al predictions concerning the phenomena of the heavens, and the corresponding events when they actually occur, does not imply the smallest doubt, on his part, of the constancy ofthe laws of nature. It resolves partly into the plea- sure of arriving at the knowledge ofthe same truth or ofthe same fact by different media ; but, chiefly, into the gratifying assurance which he thus receives, ofthe correctness of his principles, and ot the competen- cy of the human faculties to these sublime investigations. What ex- quisite delight must La Place have felt, when, by de lucing from the theory of gravitation, the cause ofthe acceleration ofthe moon's mean motion—an acceleration which proceeds at the rate of little more than 11" in a century,—he accounted, with such mathematical precision, for all the recorded observations of her place from the infancy of astrono- mical science ! It is from the length and abstruseness, however, of the reasoning process, and from the powerful effect produced on the ima- gination, by a calculus which brings into immediate contrast with the immensity of time, such evanescent elements as the fractional parts of a second, that the coincidence between the computation and the event appears in this instance so peculiarly striking. In other respects, our confidence in the future result rests on the same principle with our ex- pectation that the sun will rise to-morrow at a particular instant; and, accordingly, now that the correctness of the theory has been so wonder- fully verified by a comparison with facts, the one event is expected with no less assurance than the other. With respect to those inferior degrees of probability to which, in common discourse, the meaning of that word is exclusively confined, it is not my intention to enter into any discussions. The subject is of so great extent, that I could not hope to throw upon it any lights satisfacto- ry either to my reader or to myself, without encroaching upon the space destined for inquiries more intimately connected with the theory of our 128 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap 111. reasoning. One set of questions, too, arising out of it, (I mean those powers to which mathematical calculations have been applied by the in- genuity ofthe moderns involve some very puzzling metaphysical diffi- culties,* the consideration of which would completely interrupt the train of our present speculations. I proceed, therefore, in continuation of those in which we have been lately eugagpd, to treat of other topics of a more general nature tending to illustrate the logical procedure ofthe mind in the discovery of scien- tific truth. As an introd ction to these, I propose to devote one whole chapter to some miscellaneous strictures and reflections on the logic of the schools. CHAPTER THIRD. OF THE ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC SECTION I. Of tbe Demonstrations of the Syllogistic Rules given by Aristotle and his Commentators. _|_ he great variety of speculations which, in the present state of science, the Aristotelian logic naturally suggests to a philosophical inquirer, lays me, in this chapter, under the necessity of selecting a few leading ques- tions, bearing immediately upon the particular objects which I have in view. In treating of these, I must, of course, suppose my readers to possess some previous acquaintance with the subject to which they re- late ; but it is only such a general knowledge of its outlines and phrase- ology, as, in all universities, is justly considered as an essential accom- plishment lo those who receive a liberal education. I begin with examining the pretensions of the Aristotelian logic to that pre-eminent rank which it claims among the sciences; professing, not only to rest all its conclusions on the immoveable basis of demon- stration, but to have reaied this mighty fabric on the narrow ground- work of a single axiom. " On the basis (says the latest of his commen- " tators) of one simple truth, Aristotle has reared a lofty and various " structure of abstract science, clearly expressed and fully demonstra- '• ted."t Nor have these claims been disputed by mathematicians them- selves. In logica (says Dr. Wallis) structura syllogismi demonstra- * I allude more particularly to the doubts started on this subject by D'Alembert. in his Opuscules Mathfimatiques; and in his Melanges de Litterature. f Analysis of Aristotle's Works by Dr. Gillies. V.,]. I. p. 'J. 2d edit. sect, l] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 129 " tione nititur pure mathematica "* And. in another passage : Sequitur {( institutio logica, communi usui accommodata.—Quo videant Tirones, '< syllogismorum leges strictissimis demonstrationibus plane mathematicis " ita fuudatas, ut consequcntias habeant irrefragabiles quaeque offuciis " fallaciisque detegandh; sint accommodatae."t Dr. Reid, too, although he cannot be justly charged, on the whole, with any undue reverence for the authority of Aristotle, has yet, upon one occasion, spoken of his demonstrations with much more respect than they appear to me entitled to. " I believe (says he) it will be difficult, in any science, to find so " larf»*e a system of truths of so very abstract and so general a nature, all " fortified by demonstration, and all invented and perfected by one maru " It shows a force of genius, and labour of investigation equal to the most " arduous attempts."*1: As the fact which is so confidently assumed in these passages would, if admitted, completely overturn all I have hitherto said concerning the nature both of axioms and of demonstrative evidence, the observations which follow seem to form a necessary sequel to some ofthe preceding discussions. I acknowledge, at the same time, that my chief motive for introducing them, was a wish to counteract the effect of those triumphant panegyrics upon Aristotle's Organon, which of late have been pro- nounced by some writers, whose talents and learning justly add much weight to their literary opinions ; and an anxiety to guard the rising generation against a waste of time and attention, upon a study so little fitted, in my judgment, to reward their labour. The first remark which I have to offer upon Aristotle's demonstra- tions, is, That they proceed on the obviously false supposition of its be- ing possible to add to the conclusiveness and authority of demonstra- tive evidence. One of the most remarkable circumstances which dis- tinguishes this from that species of evidence which is commonly called moral or probable, is, that it is not susceptible of degrees; the process of reasoning of which it is the result, being either good for nothing, or so perfect and complete in itself*, as not to admit of support from any adventitious aid. Every such process of reasoning, it is well known, may be resolved into a series of legitimate syllogisms, exhibiting sepa- rately and distinctly, in a light a3 clear and strong as language can afford, each successive link of the demonstration. How far this conduces to render the demonstration more convincing than it was before, is not now the question. Some doubts may reasonably be entertained upon this head, when it is considered, that, among the various expedients employed by mathematical teachers to assist the apprehension of th-ir pupils, none of them have ever thought of resolving a demonstration * See the Monitum prefixed to the Miscellaneous Treatises annexed to the third volume of Dr. Wallis's Mathematical Works. f Preface to the same volume. J Analysis of Aristotle's Logic. That Dr. Reid, however, was perfectly aware that these demonstrati ns are more specious than solid, may be safely inferred from a sentence which afterwards occurs in the :iame tract. " When we go without the circle of the mathematics! sciences, I know nothing in which there seems to be so much demonstration as in that part of logic which treats ofthe figures and modes of syllogisms." Vol. it. 17 •130 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chnp. III. (as may always be easily done) into the syllogisms of which it is com- posed. Bui, abstncting altogether from this consideration, and grant- ing that a demonstration may be rendered more ma. ifest ami sati■.fac- tory hy being syllogistically stated ; upon what principle can it be sup- posed possible, after the demonstration has been thus analyzed and ex- panded, to enforce and corroborate, h\ any -ubsidiary reasoning, that irresistible conviction which demonstration necessarily commands? It furnishes no valid reply to this objection, to allege that mathema- ticians often employ themselves in inventing different demons rations of the same theorem ; for, in such instances, their attempts do not proceed from any anxiety to swell the mass of evidence, by finding (as in home other sciences) a variety of collateral arguments, all bearing, with their combined force, on the same truth ;—their only wish is, to discover the easiest and shortest road by which the truth may be reached. In point of simplicity, and of what geometers call elegance, these various demonstrations may differ widely from each other; but, iu point of sound logic, they are all precisely on the same footing. F.ach of them shines with its own intrinsic light alone; and the first which occurs (provided they be all equally understood) commands the assent not lcas irresistibly than the last. The idea, however, on which Aristotle proceeded, in attempting to fortify one demonstration by another, bears no analogy whatever to the practice of mathematicians in multiplying proofs of the same theorem ; nor can it derive the slightest countenance from their example. His object was not to teach us how to demonstrate the same thing in a va- riety of different ways; but to demonstrate, by abstract reasoning, the conclusiveness of demonstration. By what means he set about the accomplishment of his purpose, will afterwards appear. At present, I speak only of his design; which, if ihe foregoing remarks be just it will not be easy to reconcile with correct views, either concerning the nature of evidence, or the theory ofthe human und. i standing. For the sake ol those who have not previously turned their attention to Aristotle's Logic, it is necessary, beiore proceeding farther, to take notice of a peculiarity (and, as appears to me, an impropriety, in the use which be makes of the epithets demonstrative and dialectical, to mark the distinction between the two great classes into which he di- vides syllogisms; a mode of speaking which, according to the common use of language, would seem to imply, that one species of syllogisms may be more conclusive and cogent than another. That this is not the * From a passage indeed in a memoir by Leibnitz, (printed in the sixth volume of tiie Acta Eruditorum) it would seem, that a commentary of this kind, on the first six books of Euclid, had been actually carried into execution by two writers, whose names he mentions. "Firma autem demonstrate e»t, quae praescrip am a logica formam servat, non quasi semper ordmatis scholarum more syllogismis opus sit (quales Christianus Herlinus et Conrudus Dasypadius in sex priores Eu- chdis hbros exh.buerunt,) sed ita saltem ut argument*! 10 concludat vi formae,'' &c. &c. Acta Eruditor. Lips. Vol. 1. p. 285. Venit. 1740. I have not seen either of the works alluded to in the above sentence; and, up- on less respectable authority, should scarcely have conceived it to be credible, that any person, capable of understanding Eucl d, had ever seriously engaged in such an undertaking. It would have been difficult to devise a more effectual ex- pedient for exposuig, to the meanest understanding, tue futihty of the syllogistic theory. Std. I.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 131 case, is almost self evident; for, if a syllogism be perfect in form, it must, of necessity, be not only conclusive, but demonstratively conclu- sive. Nor is this, in fact, t e idea which Aristotle himself annexed to the distinction ; for he tells us, that it does not refer to the/e. To this observation it may be added, (in order to prevent any misap- prehensions from the ambiguity of language,) that Aiistotle's idea ofthe nature of demonstration is essentially different from that which I have already mdeavouted to explain ''In all demonstrations." (says Dr. Gillies, who iu this instance, has very accurately and clearly stated his a thors doctrine.)'♦ the fitsl principles mu-t be necessary, immutable, " and therefore eternal truths, because those qualities could not belong " to the conclusion, unless they belonged to the premises, which are its " causes.'"t According to the account of demonstrative or mathemati- * To the same purpose also Dr Wallis : " Syllogismus Topicus (qui et Dialec- tics dici solet) talis naberi solet sydogismus (seu syll.igismoium series) qui fir- mani potius praesumptionem seu opinionem, valde probabilem creat, quam abso- lutam certuudinem. Non quidem ratione Formae, (nam syllogismi omnes, si in justa forma, sunt detnonstraiivi; hoc est, si praemissae verae sint, vera eht et con- clusio,) sed atone Muteriae seu Praemissarum ; quae ipsae utplurimum, non sunt absolute cervte, et universaliter verae; seil saltern probabiles* atque utplurimum verae." Wallis, Logica, Lib. iii. cap. 23. f Aristotle's Ethics and Politics, &c. By Dr. Gillies. Vol. I. p. 96. I am much ai a loss how to reconcile this account of demonstrative evidence with the view which is given by Dr. Gillies of ,the nature of syllogism, and ofthe principles on which the syllogistic theory is founded. I * one passage, (p 81.) he tells us, that " Aristotle invented the syllogism to prevent imposition arising from the abuse of words ;" in a second (p. 83) thai " the simple truth on which Aristotle has reared a lofty and various structure of abstract science, clearly ex- pressed and fully demonstrated—is itself founded in the natural and universal tex- ture of language ;" in a third, (p. 86) that " the doctrines of Aristotle's Organon have been sirangely perplexed by confounding the grammatical principles on which that work is built with mathematical axioms." Is it possible to suppose, that Aris1 oile could have ever thought of applying to mere grammatical principles—to truths founded in the natural and universal texture of language—the epithets of ne- cessary, immutable, anil eternal P I am unwilling »o lengthen th,s note, otherwise it might be easily shdwn, how utterly irreconcilable, in the present instance, are the glosses of this ingenious commentator with the text of his author. Into some of these glosses it is proba- ble that he has been unconsciously betrayed, by his anxiety to establiab the claim of his favourite philosopher to the important speculations of Locke on the abuse of words, and to those of some later writers on language considered as an instrument of thought. 132 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. III. cal evidence formerly gi<-en, the first principles on which it rests are not eternal and immutable truths, but definitions or hypotheses ; and there- fore, if the epithet dei-ionslrative be understood, iu our present argu- ment, as descriptive of that peculiar kind of evidence which belongs to mathematics; the distinction between demonstrative and dialerticnl f-yl- logisms is reduced to this ; that in the former, where all that is asserted is the necessary connexion between the conclusio-i and the premises, neither the one nor the other of these can with propriety be said to be eith jr true or Jaisi. because both of them are entirely hy pothettcal: in the latter, where the premises are meant to express truths or facts, (sup- ported, on the must favourable supposition, by a very high degree of probability.) the conclusion must necessarily partake of that uncertainty in whic'i the premises are involved. But what I am chief]' nnxious at present to impress on the minds of ray readers is the mbstanee of the two following propositions: First, That dialectical syllogisms (provided they be not sophistical) are not less demonstratively conclusive, so fir a» the process nfreu^oniiig is com* rned, than those to which this latter epithet is restricted by Aristotle; and, secondly. That it is to the process f reasoning alone, and not t > the pre- mises on which it proceeds, that Aristotle's, demonstrations exclusively refer. The sole object, therefore, of these demonstrations, is (as t al- ready remarked) not to strengthen, by new proof-, principles which were doubtful or to supply new links to a chain of reasoning which was imperfect, but to confirm one set of demonstrations by means of another. The mistakes into which some of my readers might have been led by the contrast which Aristotle's language implies between dialectical syllo- gisms, and those which he honors with the title of demonstrative, will, I trust, furnish a sufficient apology for the length of this explanation. Having enlarged so fully on the professed aim of Aristotle's demon- strations, I shall despatch, in a very few pages what I have to offer on the manner in which he has carried his design into effect. If the de- sign be as unphilosophical as 1 have erdeavouied to show that it is, the apparatus contrived for its execution can be considered in no-other light than as an object of literary curiosity. A process of reasoning which pretends to demonstrate the legitimacy of a conclusion which, of itself, by its own intrinsic evidence, irresistibly coinm nds the assent, must, we may be perfectly assured, be at bottom unsubstantial and illusory, how specious soever it may at first sight appear. Supposing all its in- ferences to be strictly just, it can only bring us round again to the point from whence we s»jt out. The very acute strictures of Dr Reid, in his Analysis of Aristotle's Logic, on this part of tin Syllogistic Theory, render it superfluous for me. on the present occasion, to enter into any details upon the subject. To this small, but valuable tract, therefore, I beg leave to refer my rea- ders ; roiilenling myself with a short extract, which contains a general and compendious view of the conclusion drawn, and of the argument used to prove it, in each ofthe three figures of syllogisms. " In tne first figure, the conclusion affirms or denies something of a '* certain species or individual; and the argument to prove this concln- "sion is, That the same thing may be affirmed or denied of the whole "genus to winch that speci'-s or individual belongs. " In the second figure, the conclusion is, That some species or indi- SCCt. I.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 133 « vidual does not belong to such a genus; and the argument is, That some " attribute common to the whole genus does not belong to that species " or individual. " In the third figure, the conclusion is, That such an attribute belongs u to part of a genus ; and the argument is, That the attribute in ques- " tion belongs to a species or individual which is part of that genus. ** I apprehend that, in this short view, every conclusion that falls " within the compass ofthe three figures, as well as the mean of proof " is comprehended. The rules of all the figures might be easily dedu- " ced from it; and it appears that there is only one principle of reasoning " in all the three ; so that it is not strange, that a syllogism of one figure " should be reduced to one of another figure. '" The Sen< ra' principle in which the whole terminates, and of which " ev< ry categorical syllogism is only a particular application, is this, " That what is affirmed or denied ofthe whole genus may be affirmed " or denied of every species and individual belonging to it. This is a " principle of undoubted certainty indeed, but of no great depth. A f is- " totle and all the logicians assume it as an axiom, or first principle, u from which the syllogistic system, as it were, takes its departure; and " after a tedious voyage, and great expense of demonstration, it lands at '* last in this principle, as its ultimate conclusion. 0 curas hominumf " U quantum est in rebus inane /"* When we compare this mockery of science with the unrivalled pow- ers of the inventor, it is scarcely possible to avoid suspecting, that he was anxious to conceal its real poverty and nakedness, under the veil of the abstract language in which it was exhibited. It is observed by the author 'ast quoted, that Aristotle hardly ever gives examples, of real syl- logisms to illustrate his rules; and that his commentators, by endeav- ouring to supply this defect, have only brought into contempt the theo- ry of their master. " We acknowledge (says he) that this was charita- u bly done, in order to assist the conception in matters so very abstract; « but whether it was prudently done for the honor of the art, may be " doubted." One thing is certain, that when we translate any of Aris- totle's demonstrations from the general and enigmatical language in which he states il, into more familiar and intelligible terms, by apply- ing il to a particular example, the mystery at once disappears, and re- solves into some self evident or identical puerility. It is surely a strange mode of proof, which would establish the truth of what is obvious, and what was never doubted of, by means of an argument which appears quite unintelligible, till explained and illustrated by an instance perfect- ly similar to the ven thing to be proved. " If A (sa* s Aristotle) is attributed to every B, and B to every C, it " follows necessarily, that A may be attributed to every C."t Such is * This axiom is called, in scholastic language, the dictum de omni et de nullo. \ Analyt. Prior, cap. iv. It is obvious, that Aristotle's symbolical demonstrations might be easily thrown into the form of symbolical syllogisms. The circumstance which induced him to prefer the former mode of statement, was, probably, that he might avoid the ap- pearance of reasoning in a circle, by employing the syllogistic theory to demon- strate itself. It is curiou-> how it should have escaped him, that in attempting to shun this fallacy, he had fallen into another exactly of the same description •—-that 134 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap III. the demonstration given of the first mode ofthe first figure; nnd it is obviously no hing more than the axiom, called the ilutum de omm, con- cealed under the f'isgnise of au uncouth and cabalisti al phraseology- The demonstrations given of the other legitimate modes are all ol the same description. In disproving the illegitimate modes, he proceeds after a similar man- ner ; condescending, however, in general, to supply u-, by way of ex- ample, with three terms, such as bonum, habitus, prudentia ; album, equus, cygnus ;—which three terms, we are l*»ft, for our own snii-fn tion, to form into illegitimate syllogisms of the particular figure and mode which may be under consideration. The manifest int onolu-iven.ss of every such syllogism, he seems to have thought, mi^ht assist readers of slower apprehension ii perceiving more easily the import ofthe gener- al propns tion. The inoonelusiveitess, for instance, of tho-e modes of the first figure, in which the major i« particular, is ihus stated and ex- plained. " If A is or is not in some B, and B in every C no conchsion " follows. T ike for the tern's in the affirmative cas<>, good, habit, piu- tl dence; in the negative, good, habit, ignorance."9 With respeci to Mich passages as this, Dr. R>id has perfectly expressed my feeing, when he says ; That " the iconic style of ihe author, the use of symbols not fa- '' miliar, and in place of giving an example, his leaving us to form one " from thr»e assigned terms, give su'-h embarrassinent to a reader, that " he is like one reading a book of riddles."! Can it be reasonably sup- posed, that so great au obscurity in such a writer was not the effect of some systematical design ? From the various considerations already stated, I mi<>ht, perhaps, without proceeding farther, be entitl d to conclude, that Ari-totle's de- monstrations amount to nothing more than to a specious and imposing parade of words; but the innumerable testimonies to their validity, from the highest names, and the admiration in whi h they continue to be held by men of dtsting-uNhed learning, render it necessary for me, before dismissing the subject, to unfold a little more completely some parts ofthe foregoing argument. It may probably appear to some of my readers superfluous to remark, after the above-cited specimens of the reasonings in question, that not one of these demonstrations ever carries the mind forward, a single step, from one truth to another ; but merely from a general axiom to some of its particular exemplifications. Nor is this all; they carry the mind in a direction opposite to that in which its judgments ae neces- sarily formed. The meaning of a general axiom, it is well known, is seldom, if ever intelligible, till it has been illustrated by some example ; whereas Aristotle, in all his demonstrations, proceeds on the idea that the truth of an axiom, in particular instanced, is a logical consequence of employing an argument in the common formto demonstrate the legitimacy of syllogisms, after having represented a syllogistic analysis as the only infallible test of the legitimacy of a demonstration. * Analyt. Prior, cap. iv. f Dr. Gillies has attempted a vindication of the use which Aristotle, in his de- mon.-tra* ions, has made ofthe letters ofthe alphabet. For some remarks on this attempt, see note (L.) sect, l] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 135 of its truth, as enunciated in general terms. Into this mistake, it must be owued, he-was not unnaturally led by the place which is assigned to axioms at the beginning ofthe elements of geometry, and by the man- ner in which they are afterwards referred to in demonstrating the pro- positions. " Since A (it is said) is equal to B, and B to C, A is equal to " C ; for things which are equal to one and the same thing, are equal to « one another.'' This place 1 have littie doubt, has been occupied by mathematical axioms, as fur back, at least, as the foundation ofthe Pytha- gorean school ; and Aristotle's fundamental axiom will he found to be precisely of the same description. Instead, therefore, of saying, with Dr. Gillies, that " on the ba<*is of one single truth Aristotle has reared " a lo.f.y and various structure of abstract science,"—it would be more correct to say that the whole of the science is comprised or implied in the terms ot one single axiom. Nor must it be forgotten (if we are to retain Dr. Gilhes's metaphor' that the structure may, with much more propriety, be considered as the basis of the axiom, than the axiom of the structure. When it is recollected, that the greater part of our best philosophers (and among the rest Dr. Reid) still persevere, after all that Locke has urged on the opposite side ofthe question, in considering axioms as the ground-work of mathematical science, it will not appear surprising, that Aristotle's demonstrations should have so long continued to main- tain their ground in books of lo(ric That this idea is altogether erro- neous, iu so far as mathematics is concerned, has been already sufficient- ly shewn ; the whole of that science resting ultimately not on axioms, but on definitions or hypotheses. By those who have examined my reasonings on this last point, and who take the pains to combine them with the foregoing remarks, 1 trust it will be readily allowed, that the syllogistic theory furnishes no exception to the general doctrine con- cerning demonstrative evidence, whi h I formerly endeavoured to es- tablish5; its pretended demonstrations being altogether nugatory, and terminating at last (as must be the case with every process of thought involving no data but what are purely axiomatical) in the very propo- sition from which they originally set out. The idea, that all dernonstrat ve science must rest ultimately on ax- ioms, has been borrowed, with many other erroneous maxims, from the lo«*ic of Aristotle; but is now, in general, stated in a manner much more consistent (although perhaps not nearer to the truth) than in the works of tnat philosopher. According to Dr. Reid, the degree of evi- dence which accompanies our conclusions, is necessarily determined by the degree of evidence which accompanies our first principles ; so that, if the latter he only probable, it is perfectly impossible that the former should be certain. Agreeing, therefore, with Aristotle, in considering axioms as the basis of all demonstrative science, he was led, at the same time in conformity with the doctrine just mentioned, to consider them as eternal and immutable truths, which are perceived to be such by an intuitive judgment ofthe understanding. This, however, is not the lan- guage of Aristotle; for, while he tells us, that there is no demonstra- tion"but of eternal truths,* he asserts, that the first principles which * Quvtfov $$ Ktti, tern uo-it xi Tr^orecTgtf xatvXov e| m i arvXXoytr- 136 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. III. are the foundation of all demonstration, are got by induction from the informations of sense.* Iu what manner this apparent contradiction is to be reconciled, I leave to the consideration of his future commenta- tors. For my own part, I cannot help being of opinion with Lord Monbod- do (who certainly was not wanting in a due respect for the authority of Aristotle) that the syllogistic theory would have accorded much bet- ter with the doctrine of Plato concerning general ideas, than with that held on the same subject by the founder of the Peripatetic school.t To maintain that, in all demonstration we argue from generals to particu- lars, and at the same time, to assert, that the necessary progress of our knowledge is from particulars to generals, by a gradual induction from the informations of sense, do not appear, to an ordinary understanding, to be very congruous parts of the same system ;\ and yet the last of these tenets has been eagerly claimed as a discovery of Aristotle, by some ofthe most zealous admirers of his logical demonstrations.^ ft«S, on xtxyxti xeti to o-vp.Tifxrpt.x xiiiot tivxt rt/f toixvtvh airoiti%- tug. kxi tjjs oi'tA*"? iittsiv X7ro&ti%t*f ovx eo-riv xgx xirolti^n rwv jiccj. Analyt. Post. Lib. I. tap. vii. * Ex f*.tv ow xip6i)Tto>s ytytsrxi fcmfit). sx o*t f*.vt)ft.t)t woXXxkh tov xvrou yivo/u-eviji, if&irtifxi. x'i yxg ttoXXxi tthj/m,*/ rep xfi6f*ai, tpLireigix f*.ix trrit. tic o*' ifiirctgixi n tx w«vTe$ tigtfAt)0-x»Tei tov k*6oXov £v T7) -^v^y tov 'y«s irx^x nx irtXXx, o xi ev airxo-n iv try tXtllOlf T« «fT» Tf^flJS Xp%t) XXI t7TlTTy)(Jt.1}$^ tXI (It* "Ktpi ytltO-IV, ti^»i|{. txi $t rept t« cv, fino-Ty/itis. (Analyt. Post Lib. ii. cap. xix.) The whole chapter may be read with advantage by those who wish for a fuller explanation of Aristotle's opinion on this question. His illustration of the intel- lectual process by which general principles are obtained from the perceptions of sense, and from reiterated acts of memory resolving into one experience, is more particularly deserving of attention. ■j* Ancient Metaphysics, Vol. V. pp. 184, 185. i It may perhaps be asked, Is not this the very mode of philosophizing recom- mended by Bacon, first, to proceed analytically from particulars to generals, and then to reason synthetically from generals to particulars ? My reply to this question (a question which will not puzzle any person at all acquainted with the subject) I must delay, till I shall have an opportunity, in the progress ot my work, of pointing out the essential difference between the meanings annexed to the word induction, in the Aristotelian, and in the Baconian logic.—Upon the present occasion, it is sufficient to observe, that Bacon's plan of investigation was never supposed to be applicable to the discovery of principles which are necessary and eternal. § See Gillies's Analysis of Aristotle's Works, passim. In this learned, and on the whole very instructive performance, 1 find several doctrines ascribed to Aristotle, which appear not a little at variance with each other. The following passages (which I am led to select from their connexion with the present argument) strike me as not only widely different, but completely contradictory, in their import. "' According to Aristotle, definitions are the foundations of all science ; but thoce WCt. l.j OF THE HUMAN MIND. 137 In this point of view, Lord Monboddo has certainly conducted, with greater skill, his defence ofthe syllogistic theory ; in as much as he has entirely abandoned the important conclusions of Aristotle concerning the natural progress of human knowledge; and has attempted to en- trench himself in (what was long considered as one ofthe most inacces- sible fastnesses ofthe Platonic philosophy) the very ancient theory, which ascribes to general ideas an existence necessary and eternal. Had he, upon this occasion, after the example of Aristotle, confined himself solely to abstract principles, it might not have been an easy task to re- fute, to the satisfaction of common readers, his metaphysical arguments. Fortunately, however, he has favoured us with some examples and illus- trations, which render this undertaking quite unnecessary; and which, in my opinion, have given to the cause which he was anxious to support, one ofthe most deadly blows which it has ever received. The follow- ing panegyric, in particular, on the utility of logic, while it serves to shew that, in admiration ofthe Aristotelian demonstrations, he did not yield to Dr. Gillies, forms precisely such a comment as I myself could have wished for, on the leading propositions which I have now been attempting to establish. " In proof of the utility of logic* (says Lord Monboddo) I will give *• an example of an argument to prove that man is a substance; which ** argument, put into the syllogistic form, is this. " Every Animal is a Substance ; " Every Man is an Animal; " Therefore every Man is a Substance." " There is no man, I believe, who is not convinced of the truth of fountains are pure only when they originate in an accurate examination, and patient comparison of the perceptible qualities of individual objects. Vol. I p. 77. " Demonstrative truth can apply only to those things which necessarily exist after a certain manner, and whose state is unalterable : and we know those things when we know their causes : Thus we know a mathematical proposition, when we know the causes that make it true: that is, when we know all tbe intermedi- ate propositions, up to the first principles or axioms, on which it is ultimately built.'''' Ibid. pp. 95, 96. It is almost superfluous to observe, that while the former of these quotations founds all demonstrative evidence on definitions, the latter founds it upon axioms. Nor is this all. The former (as is manifest from the second clause of the sen- tence) can refer only to contingent truths ; in as much as the most accurate exa- mination of the perceptible qualities of individual objects can never lead to the knowledge of things which necessarily exist after a certain manner. The latter as obviously refers (and exclusively refers) lo truths which resemble mathematical theorems. As to Aristotle's assertion, that definitions are the first principles of all demon- strations^ett xp%xt rxv xvo$ti%tuv ot ipir/toi) it undoubtedly seems, at first view, to coincide exactly with uie doctrine which 1 was at so much pains to incul- cate, in treating of that peculiar evidence which belongs to mathematics. I hope, however, I shall not, on this account, be accused of plagiarism, when it is consider- ed, that the commentary upon these words, quoted above from Dr. Gillies, absolute- ly excludes mathematics from the number of those sources to which they are to be applied. On this point, too, Aristotle's own language is decisive. E| xvxyxxiait ae* worthy of observation, that Condillac has availed himself of the same me- taphoric al and equivocal word which the foregoing comments profess to explain, in SLippnrf of the theory winch represents every process of sound reasoning as a series of identical propositions. " L*Analyse est la meme dans toutes les sciences, Sect. II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 141 To both comments the same observation may be applied; that, the moment a person reads them, he must feel himself disposed to retract his assent to the axiom which they are brought to elucidate; in as much as they must convince him, that what appeared to be, according to the common signification of words, little better than a truism, be- comes, when translated into the jargon ofthe schools, an incomprehen- sible, if not, at bottom, an unmeaning aenigma. I have been induced to enlarge, with more minuteness than I could have wished, on this fundamental article of logic, that I might not be accused of repeating those common-place generalUies, which have, of late, been so much complained of by Aristotle's champions. I must not, however, enter any farther into the details of the system ; and shall therefore proceed, in the next section, to offer a few remarks of a more practical nature, on the object and on the value of the syllogistic art. SECTION II. General Reflections on the Aim ofthe Aristotelian Logic, and on the Intellectual Habits which the study of it has a tendency to form.—That the improvement of the power of reasoning ought to be regarded as only a secondary Object in the culture of the Understanding. The remarks which were long ago made by Lord Bacon on the in- utility ofthe syllogism as an organ of scientific discovery, together with the acute strictures on Mr. Locke's Essay on this form of reasoning, are so decisive in point of argument and, at the same tine, so familiar- ly known to all who turn their attention to philosophical inquiries, as to render it perfectly unnecessary for me, on the present occasion, to add any thing in support of them. I shall, therefore, in the sequel, confine myselftoafew very general and miscellaneous reflections on one or two points overlooked by these eminent writers ; but to which it is of es- sential importance to attend, in order to estimate justly the value ofthe Aristotelian logic, considered as a branch of education.* It is an observation which has been often repeated since Bacon's time, and which, it is astonishing, was so long in forcing itself on the notice of philosophers, That, in all our reasonings about the established order ofthe universe, experience is our sole guide, and knowledge is to be acquired only by ascending from particulars to generals ; whereas the syllogism leads us invariably from universals to particulars, the truth of which, instead of being a consequence of the universal proposition, is parceque dans toutes elle conduit du connu a 1'inconnu par le raisonnement, e'est- si-dire, par une suite de jugemens qui sont renfermes les uns dans les autres."—-La Logique. * To some of my readers it may not be superfluous to recommend, as a valua- ble supplement to the discussions of Locke and Bacon concerning the syllogistic art, what has been since written on the same subject, in farther prosecution of their views, by Dr. Reid in his Analysis of Aristotle's Logic, and by Dr. Campbell in his Philosophy of Rhetoric. 142 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY UhtW. III. implied and presupposed in the very terms of its enunciation. Tbe syllo- gistic art. therefore, it has been justly concluded, can be of no use in extending our knowledge of nature.* To this observation it may be added, That, if there are any parts of science in which the syllogism can be advantageously applied, it must be those where our judgments are formed, iu consequence of an appli- cation to particular cases of certain maxims which we are not at liberty to dispute. An example of this occurs in the practice of law. Here, the particular conclusion must be regulated by the general principle, whether right or wrong. The case was similar in every branch of phi- losophy, as long as the authority of great names prevailed, and the old scholastic maxims were allowed, without examination, to pass as in- controvertible truths.*!" Since the importance of experiment and obser- vation was fully understood, the syllogistic art has gradually fallen into contempt. A remark somewhat similar occurs in the preface lo the Novum Or- ganon. " They who attributed so much to logic (says Lord Bacon) per- '*' ceived very well and truly, that it was not safe to trust the under- " standing to itself, without the guard of any rules. But the remedy " reached not the evil, but became a part of it: For the logicwhich took " ptace, tlwugh it might do well enough in the civil affairs, and the arts " which consisted in talk and opinion, yet comes very far short of subti- " lity, in the real performances of nature; and, catching at what it can- * On this point it would be a mere waste of time to enlarge, as it has been of late explicitly admitted by some of the ablest advocates for the Organon of Aris- totle. " When Mr. Locke, (1 quote the words of a very judicious and acute lo- gician) when Mr. Locke says—*' I am apt to think, that he who should employ all the force of his reason only in brandishing of syllogisms, will discover very little of that mass of knowledge, which lies yet concealed in the secret recesses of na- ture ;—he expresses himself with needless caution. Such a man will certainly not discover any of it. And if any imagined, that the mere brandishing of syllogisma could increase their knowledge, (as some ofthe schoolmen seemed to think) they were indeed very absurd." (^Commentary on the Compendium of Logic used in the University of Dublin. By the Rev. John Walker. Dublin, 1805.) To the same effect, it is remarked, by a later writer, with respect to Lord Ba- con's assertion, " that discoveries in Natural Philosophy are not likely to be pro- moted by the engine of syllogism ;"—" that this is a proposition which no one of the present day disputes ; and which, when alleged by our adversaries, as their chief objection to the study of logic, only proves, that they are ignorant of the subject about which they are speaking, and of the manner in which it is now taught." (~See an Anonymous Pamphlet printed at Oxford in 1810, p. 26.) Dr. Gillies has expressed himself in terms extremely similar upon various occasions. f See, in particular, Vol. I. pp. 63. 64, 2d edit.) This very important concession reduces the question about the utility of the Aristotelian logic within a very narrow compass. ■j- Ce sera un sujet eternel d'6tonnement pour les personnes qui savent bien ce que c'est que philosophic, que de voir que l'autorite d'Aristote a H€ tellement respectee dans les ecoles pendant quelques siecles, que lors qu'un disputant citoit un passage de ce philosophe, celui qui soutenoit la these n osoit point dire tran- sect; il falloit qu'il niatle passage, ou qu'il I'expliquat a sa maniere." Dict.de Bayle. Art. Aristote. sect, il] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 143 " not reach, has served to confirm and establish errors, rather than " open a way to truth."* It is not, however, merely as a useless and inefficient organ for the dis- covery of truth, that this art is exceptionable. The importance of the very object at which it professedly aims is not a little doubtful. To ex- ercise with correctness the powers of deduction and of argumentation: or, in other words, to make a legitimate inference from the premises be- fore us, would seem to be an intellectual process which requires but little assistance from rule. The strongest evidence of this is, the facility with which men ofthe most moderate capacity learn, in the course of a few months, to comprehend the longest mathematical demonstrations; a facility which, when contrasted with the difficulty of enlightening their minds on questions of morals or of politics, affords a sufficient proof, that it is not from any inability to conduct a mere logical process, that our speculative errors arise. The fact is, that, in most ofthe sci- ences, our reasonings consist of a very few steps; and yet, how liable are the most cautious and the most sagacious, to form erroneous conclu- sions ! To enumerate and examine the causes of these false judgments is foreign lo my purpose in this section. The following (which I mention only by way of specimen) seem to be among the most powerful. 1. The imperfections of language, both as an instrument of thought, and as a medium of philosophical communication. 2. The difficulty, in many of our most important inquiries, of ascertaining the facts on which our reasonings are to proceed. 3. The partial and narrow views, which, from want of information, or from some defect in our intellectual com- prehension, we are apt to take of subjects, which are peculiarly com- plicated in their details, or which are connected, by numerous relations, with other questions equally problematical. And lastly, (what is of all, perhaps, the most copious source of speculative error) the prejudices which authority and fashion, fortified by early impressions and associa- tions, create to warp our opinions. To illustrate these and other circum- stances by which the judgment is apt to be misled in the search of truth, and to point out the most effectual means of guarding against 'them, would form a very important article in a philosophical system of * As the above translation is by Mr. Locke, who has introduced it in the way of apology for the freedom of his own strictures on the school logic, the opinion which it expresses may be considered as also sanctioned by the authority of Ids name. fSee the Introduction to his Treatise on the Conduct of the Understand- ing. J I cannot forbear remarking, on this occasion, that when Lord Bacon speaks of the school logic as " answering well enough in civil affairs, and the arts which consist in talk and opinion," his words can only apply to dialectical syllogisms, and cannot possibly be extended to those which Aristotle calls demonstrative. What- ever praise, therefore, it may be supposed to imply, must be confined to the Books of Topics. The same observation will be found to hold with respect to the greater part of what has been alleged in defence of the syllogistic art, by Dr. Gillies, and by the other authors referred to in the beginning of this section. One ofthe ablest of these seems to assent to an assertion of Bacon, " That logic does not help to- wards the invention of arts and sciences, but only of arguments.*' If it only helps towards the invention of arguments for what purpose has Aristotle treated so fully of demonstration and of science in the two books of the Last Analytics ? 144 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. HI. logic; but it is not on such subjects that we are to expect information from the logic of Aristotle.* The fundamental idea on which this philosopher evidently proceeded, and in which he has been too implicitly followed by many even of those who have rejected his syllogistic theory, takes for granted, that the dis- covery of truth chiefly depends on the reasoning faculty, and that it is the comparative strength of this faculty, which constitutes the intellect- ual superiority of one man above another. The similarity between the words reason and reasoning, of which I formerly took notice, and the confusion which it has occasioned in their appropriate meanings, has contributed powerfully to encourage and to perpetuate this unfor- tunate mistake. If 1 do not greatly deceive myself, it will be found, on an accurate examination ofthe subject, that, of the different elements which enter into the composition of reason, in the most enlarged accep- tation of that word, the power of carrying on long processes of reason- ing or deduction, is, in point of importance, one ofthe least.t The slightest reflection, indeed, may convince us, how very little con- nexion the mere reasoning faculty has with the general improvement of mankind. The wonders which it has achieved have been confined in a great measure, to the mathematical sciences—the only branches of human knowledge which furnish occasion for long concatenated proces- ses of thought; and even there, method, together with a dexterous use of the helps to our intellectual faculties which art has discovered, will avail more than the strongest conceivable capacity, exercised solely and ex- clusively in habits ef synthetic deduction. The tendency of these helps, it may be worth while to add, is so far from herng always favoura- ble to the power of reasoning, strictly so called, that it may be ques- * In the Logic of Port Royal, there is a chapter, entitled, Des sopMsmes cf amour propre, d'inte're't, et de passion, which is well worthy of a careful perusal. Some useful hints may be also collected from Gravesande's Introductio ad Plulosophiam. See Book ii. Part ii. (De Causis Errorum.J ■j- It was before observed (p. 77.) u That tbe whole theory of syllogism proceeds on the supposition, that the same word is always to be employed in the same sense ; and that, consequently, it takes for granted, in every rule which it furnishes for the guidance of our reasoning powers, that the nicest, and by far the most difficult part of the logical process, has been previously brought to a successful termina- tion." In this remark (which, obvious as it may seem, has been very generally over- looked,) I have found, since the foregoing sheets were printed, that I have been anticipated by M. Turgot. " Tout l'artifice de ce calcul ingenieux, dont Aris- tote nous a donn£ les regies, tout Part du syllogisme est fonde sur l'usage des mots dans le meme sens ; l'emploi d'un meme mot dans deux sens diffgrens fait de tout raisonnement un sophisme; et ce genre de sophisme, peut-etre le plus com- mun de tous, est une des sources les plus ordinaires de nos erreurs." Oeuvres de M. Turgot, Tom. 111. p. 66. Lord Bacon had manifestly the same conclusion in view, in the following apho- rism : " Syllogism consists ot propositions, propositions of words, and words are the signs of notions ; therefore if our notions, the basis of all, are confined, and over hastily taken from thing's, nothing that is built on them can be firm; whence our only hope rests upon genuine induction." Nov. Org. Part, 1. Sect. 1. Aph. 14. (Shaw's Translation.) On what grounds Dr. Gillies was led to hazard the assertion formerly quoted (p. 204.) that " Aristotle invented the syllogism to prevent the imposition ari- sing from the abuse of words." I am quite unable to form a conjecture. sect. II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 145 tioned, whether, among the ancient Greek geometers, this power was not in a higher state of cultivation, in consequence of their ignorance ofthe algebraical symbols, than it exists in at this day, among the pro- foundest mathematicians of Europe. In the o I her sciences, however, the truth of the remark is far more striking. By whom was ever the art of reasoning so sedulously cultiva- ted as by the schoolmen, and where shall we find such monuments of what mere reasoning can accomplish, as in their writings ? Whether the same end might not have been attained without the use of their tech- nical rules, is a different question ; but that they did succeed to a great degree, in the acquisition ofthe accomplishments, at which they aimed, cannot be disputed. And yet, I believe, it will be now very generally admitted, that never were labour and ingenuity employed, for so many ages, to so little purpose of real utility. The absurdity of expecting to rear a fabric of science by the art of reasoning alone, was remarked, with singular sagacity, even amidst the darkness of the 12th century, by John of Salisbury, himself a distinguished proficient in scholastic learning, which he had studied under the celebrated Abelard. " After " a long absence from Paris (he tells us in one passage) I went to visit " the compani6ns of my early studies. I found them in every respect, " precisely as I had left them; not a single step advanced towards a so- f lution of their old difficulties, nor enriched by the accession of one new " idea : a strong experimental proof, that, how much soever logic may " contribute to the progress of other sciences, it must forever remain " barren and lifeless, while abandoned to itself."* Among the various pursuits now followed by men liberally educated, there is none, certainly, which affords such scope to the reasoning fa- culty, as the science and profession of law; and accordingly, it has been observed by Mr. Burke, '• That they do more to quicken and in- " vigorate the understanding, than all the other kinds of learning ;jut " together." The same author however adds, that " they are not apt, " except in persons very happily born, to open and to liberalize the mind, " exactly in the same proportion." Nor is this surprising ; for the ul- timate standards of right and wrong to which they recognize the com- petency of an appeal, being conventional rules and human auihorities, no field is opened to that spirit of free inquiry which it is the boast of philosophy to cultivate. The habits of thought, besides, which the long exercise of the profession has a tendency to form, on its appropri- ate topics, seem unfavourable to the qualities connected with what is properly called judgment; or, in other words, to the qualities on which the justness or correctness of our opinions depends : they accustom the mind to those partial views of things which are suggested by the sepa- rate interests of litigants ; not to a calm, comprehensive, and discrim- inating survey of details, in all their bearings and relations. Hence the apparent inconsistences which sometimes astonish us in the intel- lectual character of the most distinguished practitioners—a talent for acute and refined distinctions ; powers of subtle, ingenious, and close argumentation ; inexhaustible resources of invention, of wit, and of elo- quence ;-4-combined not only with an infantine imbecility in the affairs of life, but with an incapacity of forming a sound decision, even on * Metalog. Lib. ii. cap. 10. VOL. IL 19 146 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. III. those problematical questions which are the subjects of their daily dis- cussions. The great and enlightened minds, whose judgments have bee;i transmitted to posterity, as oracles cf legal wisdom, were formed (it may be safely presumed) not by the habits oftheir professional war- fare, hut by contending with these habits, and shaking off their domin- ion The habits of a controversial writer are, in some respects, analogous to those of a lawyer ; and their effects on the intellectual powers, when engaged in the investigation of truth are extremely similar. They con- fine the attention to one particular view of the question, and, instead of training the understanding to combine together the various circumstan- ces which seem to favour opposite conclusions, so as to limit each other, and to guard the judgment against either extreme.—they are apt, by pre- senting the subject sometimes wholly on ihe one side, and sometimes wholly ou the other, to render the disputant the sceptical dupe of his own ingenuity Such seems to have been nearly the case with the redoubt- able Chillingworth ; a person to whose native candour the most honour- able testimony has been borne by the most eminent of his contempora- ries, and whose argumentative powers have almost become matter of proverbial remark. Dr. Reid has pronounced him the " best reasoner, " a.- well as the acutest logician of his age;" and Locke himself has said, *lf you would have your son to reason well, let him read Chilling- " worth " To what consequences these rare endowments and attain- ments led, we may learn from Lord Clarendon. " Air. Chillingworth had spent all his younger time in disputations, "and had arrived at so great a mastery, that he was inferior to no man " iu those skirmishes : but he had, with his notable perfection in this " exercise, contracted such au irresolution and habit of doubting, that *■' by degrees he grew confident of nothing."—" Neither the books of his " adver-aries, nor any oftheir pprsons, ihough he was acquainted with "the best of both, had ever made great impression on him; all his " doubts grew out of himself, when he assisted his scruples with all the " streiig'h of his own reason, and was then too hard for himself: but '* fii d..g as little quiet and repose in those victories, he quickly recov- " ered, by a new appeal to his own judgment; so that, in truth, he was " iu all his sallies and retreats, his own convert." The foregoing observations, if well founded, conclude strongly, not merely against the form ofthe school logic, but against the importance ofthe end to whieh il is directed. Locke and many others have already sufficiently shewn, how inadequate the syilogi-tic theory is to its avow- ed purpose; but few seem to be sufficiently aware, how very little this purpose, if it were attained, would advance us in the knowledge of those truths which are the most interesting to human happiness. '' There is one species of madman" (says Father Buffier)" that makes " an excellent logician."*—The remark has the appearance of being somewhat paradoxical; but it is not without a solid foundation, both in fact, and in the theory ofthe human understanding. N-">r does it apply tn -rely -as Buffier seems to have meant it) to the scholastic defenders of metaphysical pandoxes ; it extends to all whose ruling passion is a dis- play of argumentative dexterity, without much solicitude about the justness oftheir piemises, or the truth of their conclusions. It isobserv- ♦Trait§ des Pr^m. V*rn6». Part. L chap. xi. Sect. II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 147 ed by Lord Erskine, in one of his admirable pleadings lately published, that " in all the cases which have filled Westminster-Hall with the " most complicated considerations—the lunatics, and other insane per- " sons who have been the subjects of them, have not only had the most " perfect knowledge and recollection of all the relations they stood in •** towards others, and ofthe acts and circumstances of their lives, but " have, in general, been remarkable for subtlety and acuteness ;"—These," (he adds) "are the cases which frequently mock the wisdom of the " wisest in judicial trials ; ber-ause such persons often reason with a u subtlety which puts in the shade the ordinary conceptions of mankind .* " their conclusions are just, and frequently profound ; but the premises u from which they reason, when within the range of the malady, are uni- " formly false:—not false from any defect of knowledge or judgment; " but because a delusive image, the inseparable companion of real insan- " ity, is thrust upon the subjugated understanding, incapable of resist- il ance, because unconscious of attack." In the instances here alluded to, something it is probable, ought to be attributed to the physical influence of the disorder, in occasioning, to- gether with an increased propensity to controversy, a preternatural and morbid excitation of the power of attention, and of some other intel- lectual faculties; but much more, in my opinion, to its effects in re- moving the check of those collateral circumstances by which in more sober understandings, the reasoning powers are perpetually retarded and controlled in their operation. Among these circumstances, it is suf- ficient to specify, for the sake of illustration, 1. That distrust, which experience gradually teaches, ofthe accuracy and precision ofthe phra- seology in which our reasonings are expressed;—accompanied with a corresponding apprehension of involuntary mistakes from the ambiguity and vagueness of language ; 2. A latent, suspicion, that we may not be fully in possession of all the elements on which the solution of the pro- blem depends; and 3. The habitual influence of those first principles of propriety, of morality, and of common sense, which, as long as rea- son maintains her ascendant, exercise a paramount authority over all those speculative conclusions which have any connexion with the busi- ness of life. Of these checks or restraints on our reasoning processes, none are cultivated and strengthened, either by the rules of the logi- cian, or by the habits of viva voce disputation. On the contrary, in pro- portion as their regulating power is confirmed, that hesitation and sus- pense of judgment are encouraged, which are so congenial to the spirit of true philosophy, but such fatal incumbrances in contending with an antagonist whose object is not truth but victory. In madness, where their control is entirely thrown off, the merely logical process (which never stops to analyze the meaning of words) is likely to go on more ra- pidly and fearlessly than before;—producing a volubility of speech, and an apparent quickness of conception, which present to common observ- ers all the characteristics of intellectual superiority. It is scarcely ne- cessary to add, that the same appearances, which, in this extreme case of mental aberration, are displayed on so great a scale, may be expected to shew themselves, more or less, wherever there is any deficiency in those qualities which constitute depth and sagacity of judgment. For my own part, so little value does my individual experience lead me to place on argumentative address, when compared with some other 148 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chdp. Ill endowments subservient to our intellectual improvement, that I have long been accustomed to consider that promptness of reply and dogma- tism of decision which mark the eager and practised disputant as al- most infallible symptoms of a limited capacity; a capacity deficient in what Locke has called (in very significant, though somewhat homely terms) large, sound, roundabout sense * Iu all the higher endowments of ihe understanding, this intellectual quality (to which nature as well as education mu.-t liberally contribute,) may be justly regarded as an essential ingredient. It is this which, when cultivated by study and directed to great objects or pursuits, produces an unprejudiced, com- prehensive, and efficient mind ; and, where it is wanting, though we may occasionally find a more than ordinary share of quickness and of information : a plausibility and brilliancy of discourse; and that passive susceptibilily of polish from the commerce ofthe world, which is so of- ten united with imposing but secondary talents,—we may rest assured, that there exists a total incompetency for enlarged views and sagacious combinations, either in the researches of science or in the conduct of affairs.t If these observations hold with respect to the art of reasoning or ar- gumentation, as it is cultivated by men undisciplined in the contentions of the schools, they will be found to apply with infinitely greater force to those disputants (it any such are still to be found) who, in the present advanced state of human knowledge, have been at pains to fortify them- selves, by a eourse of persevering study, with the arms ofthe Aristoteli- an logic. Persons of the former description often reason conscientiously with warmth, from false premises, which they are led by passion, or by want of information, to mistake for truth. Those ofthe latter description proceed systematically on the radical error of conceiving the reasoning process to be the most powerful instrument by which truth is to be attain- ed ; combined with the secondary error of supposing, that the power of reasoning may be strengthened and improved by the syllogistic art. * Conduct of the Understanding, § 3. j-The outline of an intellectual character, approaching nearly to this description, is exhibited by Marmoniel in his highly finished (and I have been assured, very faithful) portrait of M. de Brienne. Amon£ the other defect? of that unfortunate Statesman, he mentions particularly un esprit d facettes ; by which expression he seems, from the context, to mean a quality of mind precisely opposite to that de- scribed by Locke in the words quoted abo. e :—^quelques lumieres, mais e'parses ; des appergus plutut que des vues ,- et dans les grands objets, de la facility a saisir les petits >Utaiis, nulle capaciti pour embrasser Pensemble." A consciousness of some similar deficiency has suggested to Gibbon the following criticism on his own juve- nile performance, entitled Essai sur VEtude. It is executed by an impartial and a masterly hand ; and may perhaps, without much injustice, be extended, not only to his Roman history, but to the distinguishing features of that peculiar cast of genius, which so strongly marks all its writings. •• The most serious defect of my essay is a kind of obscurity and abruptness which always fatigues, and may often elude the attention of the reader. The ob- scurity of many passages is often affected ; proceeding from the desire of expres- sing perhaps a common idea with sententious brevity: brevis esse labo^o obscurus fio. Mas! how tital has been tbe imitation of Montesquieu I But this obscurity sometimes proceeds from a mixture of light and darkness in the author's mind; fom a partial ray which strikes upon an angle, instead of spreading itself over the surface of an object.''' Sect. II.] OF THE HUMAN M1NB. 149 In one of Lord Kaimes's sketches, there is an amusing and instruc- tive collection of facts to illustrate the progress of reason ; a phrase, by which he seems to mean chiefly the progress of good sense, or of that quality of the intellect which is very significantly expressed by the epi- thet enlightened. To what is this progress (which has been going on with such unexampled rapidity during the two last centuries) to be as- cribed ; Not surely to any improvement in the art of reasoning; for ma- ny of the most melancholy weaknesses which he has recorded, were ex- hibited by men, distinguished by powers of discussion, and a reach of thought, which have never been surpassed ; while, on the other hand, the same weaknesses would now be treated with contempt by the low- est of the vulgar. The principal cause, I apprehend, has been, the ge- neral diffusion of knowledge (and more especially of experimental know- ledge) by the art of printing; in consequence of which, those prejudi- ces which had so long withstood the assaults both of argument and of ridicule, have been gradually destroyed by their mutual collision, or lost in the infinite multiplicity of elementary truths which are identified with the operations ofthe infant understanding. To examine, the pro- cess by which truth has been slowly and insensibly cleared from that admixture of error with which, during the long night of Gothic igno- rance, it was contaminated and disfigured, would form a very interests ing subject of philosophical speculation. At present, it is sufficient to re- mark, how little we are indebted for our emancipation from this intel- lectual bondage, to those qualities which it was the professed objictof the school logic to cultivate ; and that, in the same proportion in which liberality and light have spread over Europe, this branch of study has sunk in the general estimation. Ofthe ineffi *acy of mere reasoning in bringing men to an agreement on those questions which, in all ages, have furnished to the learned the chief matter of controversy, a very just idea seems to have been formed by the ingenious author of the following lines; who has, at the same time, hinted at a remedy against a numerous and important class of spe- culative errors, more likely to succeed, than any which i6 to be derived from the most skilful application of Aristotle's rules ; or indeed, from any direct argumentative refutation, how conclusive and satisfactory soever it may appear to an unbiassed judgment. It must, at the same time, be owned, that this remedy is not without danger; and that the same habits which are so useful in correcting the prejudices of the monastic bigot, and so instructive to all whose principles are sufficiently fortified by reflection, can scarcely fail to produce pernicious effects, where they operate upon a character not previously formed and confirmed by a ju- dicious education. En parcourant au loin la planete ou nous sommes Que verrons nous ? les torts et les travers des hommes Ici c'est un synode, et la c'est un divan, Nous verrons le Mufti, le Derviche, l'Iman, Le Bonze, le Lama, le Talapoin, le Pope, Les antiques Rabbins et les Abbes d'Europe, Nos momes, nos prSlats, nos docters agrgges; Etes vous disputeurs, mes amis ? voyagez,* * Discours sur les Disputes, par M. de Rulhiere. ; 150 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. III. To these verses it may not be altogether useless to subjoin a short quo- tation from Mr. Locke; in whose opinion the aid of foreign trattl seems lo be less necessary for enlightening some ofthe classes of controversi- alists included in the foregoing enumeration, than was suspected by the poet. The moral ofthe passage, (if due allowances be made for the satirical spirit which it breathes) is pleasing on the whole, as it suggests the probability, that our common estimates ofthe intellectual darkness of our own times are not a little exaggerated. «*■ Notwithstanding the great noise that is made in the world about " errors and opinions, I must do mankind that right as to say, There are " not so many men in errors and wrong opinions, as is commonly supposed; " Not that I think they embrace the truth ; but indeed, becnuse con- " cerning those doctrines they keep such a stir about, they have no " thought, no opinion at all. For if any one should a little catechise the '1 greatest part of the partisans of most of the sects in the world, he " would not find concerning those matters they are so zealous for, that " they have any opinion oftheir own : much less would he have reason " to think that they took them upon the examination of arguments and " appearance of probability. They are resolved to stick to a party that l< education or interest had engaged ihem in ; and there, like the com- " mon soldiers of an army, show their courage and warmth as their " leaders direct, without ever examining, or so much as knowing the " cause they contend for. If a man's life shews that he has no serious " regard for religion, for what reason should we think that he beats his " head about the opinions of his church, and troubles himself to examine " the grounds of this or that doctrine ? 'Tis enough for him to obey his u leaders, to have his hand and his tongue ready for the support of the " common cause, and thereby approve himself to those who can give " him credit, preferment, and protection in that society. Thus u en be* " come combatants for those opinions they were never convinced of; " no, nor ever had so much as floating in their heads; and though one " CANNOT SAY THERE ARB FEWER IMPROBABLE OR ERRONEOUS OPINIONS IN " THE WORLD THAN THERE ARE, JTET THIS IS CERTAIN, THERE ARK FEW- " ER THAT ACTUALLY ASSENT TO THEM, AND MISTAKE THEM FOR TRUTHS, " THAN IS IMAGINED."* If these remarks of Locke were duly weighed, they would have a tendency to abridge the number of controversial writers; and to encour- age philosophers to attempt the improvement of mankind, rather by ad- ding to the stock of useful knowledge, than by waginga direct war with prejudices, which have less root in the understandings, than in the in- terests and passions of their abettors. * Essay on Human Understanding. Book iv. c. 20. MCt. III.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 151 SECTION III. In what respects the study of the Aristotelian Logic may be useful to disputants. A general acquaintance with it justly regarded as an essential accomplishment to those who are liberally educated. Doubts suggested by some late writers, concerning Aristotle's claims to the invention ofthe Syllogistic Theory. The general result of the foregoing reflections is, That neither the means employed by the school logic for the assistance of the discursive faculty, nor the accomplishment of that end, were it really attained, are of much consequence in promoting the enlargement ofthe mind, or in guarding it against the influence of erroneous opinions. It is, how- ever, a very different question, how far this art may be of use to such as are led by profession or-inclination to try their strength in polemical warfare. My own opinion is, that, in the present age, it would not give to the disputant, in the judgment of men whose suffrage is of any value, the slightest advantage over his antagonist. In earlier times, indeed, the case must have been different. While the scholastic forms continued to be kept up, and while schoolmen were the sole judges of the contest, an expert logician could not fail to obtain an easy victory over an inferior proficient. Now, however, when the supreme tribunal to which all parlies must appeal, is to be found, not within but without the walls of universities; and when the most learned dialectician must, for his own credit, avoid all allusion to the technical terms and technical forms of his art, can it be imagined that the mere possession of Us rules furnishes him with invisible aid for annoying his adversary, or renders him invulnerable by some secret spell against the weapons of his assailant?* Were this really the case, one might have expected that the advocates who have undertaken ils defence, (considering how much their pride was interested in the controversy) would have given * An argument of this sort in favour ofthe Aristotelian logic, has, in fact, been lately alleged, in a treatise to which I have already had occasion to refer. <* Mr. Locke seems throughout to imagine that no use can be made of the doc- trine of syllogisms, unless by men who deliver their reasonings in syllogistic form. That would indeed justly expose a man to the imputation of disgusting pedantry and tediousness. But, in fact, he who never uses an expression borrowed from the Aristotelic logic, may yet, unobserved, be availing himself, in the most important manner, of its use, by bringing definitions, divisions, and arguments, to the test of its rules. , "In the merfe application of it to the examining of an argument which we desire to refute,—the logician will be able to bring the argument in his own mind to syl- logistic form.—He will then have before his view every constituent part ofthe ar- gument ; some of which may have been wholly suppressed by his antagonist, and others disguised by ambiguity Mid declamation.—He knows every point in which it is subject to examination.—He perceives immediately, by the rules of his art, whether the premises may be acknowledged, and the conclusion denied, for want of aw* consequentiae. If not, be knows where to look for a weakness. He turns to each of the premises, and considers whether they are false, dubious, or equivo- cal ; and is thus prepared and directed to expose every weak point in the argu- ment with clearness, precision, and meihod ; and this to those who perhaps are wholly ignorant of the aids by which the speaker is thus enabled to carry convic- tion with his discourse.'' Commentary on the Compendium of Logic, used in the Uni- versity of Dublin. Dublin, 1805. 152 ELEMENTS OF THE FTULOSOPHY [chap. III. us some better specimens of its practical utility, in defending it against the unscientific attacks of Baeon and of Locke. It is, however, not a little remarkable, that in every argument which they have attempted in its favour, they have not only been worsted by those very antagonists whom they accuse of ignorance, but fairly driven from the field of bat- tle.* It has, indeed, been asserted by an ingenious and learned writer, that " he has never met with a person unacquainted with logic, who could " state and maintain his argument with facility, clearness, and precision; " that he has seen a man of the acutest mind puzzled by the argument " of his antagonist; sensible perhaps, that it was inconclusive, but whol- " ly unable to expose, the fallacy which rendered it so ; while a logi- " cian, of perhaps very inferior talents, would be able at once to dis- " cern and to mark it."t • In most ofthe defences of the school logic which I have seen, the chief weap- on employed has been that kind of argument which, in scholastic phraseology, is called the Argumentmn ad Hominem ; an argument in the use of which much regard to conuisiency is seldom to be expected.—In one sentence, accordingly, Bacon and Locke are accused of having never read Aristotle ; and, in the next, of having bor- rowed from Aristotle the most valuable part oftheir writings. With respect to Locke, it has been triumphantly observed, that his acquaintance with Aristotle's logic must have been superficial, as he has, in one of hi** objections, manifestly confounded particular with singular propositions. (Commentary on the Du'jlin Compendium.) The criticism, I have no doubt, is just ; but does it, there- fore, follow, that a greater familiarity with the technical niceties of an art which he despised, would have rendered this profound thinker more capable of forming a just estimate of its scope and spirit, or of its efficacy in aiding the human under- standing ?—Somewhat of the same description are the attempts which have been repeatedly made to discredit the strictures of Dr. Reid, by appealing to his own acknowledgment, that there might possibly be some parts of the Analytics, and Topics, wliich he had never read. The passage in which this acknowledgment is made, is so characteristical of the modesty and candour of the writer, that I am tempted to annex it to this note ;—more especially, as I am persuaded, that, with many readers, it will have vhe effect of confirming, rather than of shaking their confidence in the general correctness and fidelity of his researches. " In attempting to give some account ofthe Analytics and ofthe Topics of Aris- totle, ingenuity requires me to confess, that, though I have often proposed to read the whole with care, and to understand what is intelligible, yet my courage and patience always failed before 1 had done. Why should I throw away so much time and painful attention upon a thing of so little real use ? If I had lived in those ages when the knowledge of Aristotle's Organon entitled a man to the highest rank in philosophy, ambition might have induced me to employ upon it some years of pain- ful study; and less, I conceive, would not be sufficient. Such reflections as these always got the better of my resolution, when the first ardour began to cooL All I can say is, that I have read some parts ofthe books with care, some slightly, and some perhaps not at all. I have glanced over the whole often, and when any thing attracted my attention, have dipped into it till my appetite was satisfied. Of all reading, it is the most dry and the most painful, employing an inhnite labour of demonstration, about things of the most abstract nature, delivered in a laconic style, and often, I think, wi'h affected obscurity; and all to prove general propo- sitions, which, when applied to particular instances, appear self-evident."' Chap. III. sect. 1. f Mr. Walker, author of the Commentary on the Dublin Compendium of Logic. Sect. HI.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 153 I do not deny that there may be some foundation for this statement. The part of Aristotle's Organon which seems, in the design, to be the most practically useful (although it is certainly very imperfect in the execution) is the book of sophisms; a book which still supplies a very convenient phraseology for marking concisely some of the principal fal- lacies which are apt to impose on the understanding in the heat of a viva voce dispute.* Whether it affords any aid in detecting or discern- ing these fallacies may perhaps be doubted. But it is certainly an ac- quisition, and an acquisition of no contemptible value, to have always at hand a set of technical terms, by which we can point out to our hear- ers, without circumlocution or discussion, the vulnerable parts of our antagonist's reasoning. That nothing useful is to be learned from Aris- totle's logic I am far from thinking; but I believe that all which is use- ful in it might be reduced into a very narrow compass; and I am de- cidedly of opinion, that wherever it becomes a serious and favourite object of study, it is infinitely more likely to do harm than good. In- deed, I cannot help considering it as strongly symptomatic of some unsoundness in a man's judgment, when I find him disposed (after all that has been said by Bacon and Locke) to magnify its importance either as an inventive or as an argumentative Organ. Nor does this opinion rest upon theory alone. It is confirmed by all that I have observed, (if after the example of the author last quoted I may presume to mention the results of my own observations,) with respect to the intellectual characters of the most expert dialecticians whom I have happened to know. Among these, I can with great truth say, that although I recol- lect several possessed of much learning, subtlety and ingenuity, I can name none who have extended by their discoveries the boundaries of science ; or, on whose good sense I should conceive that much reliance was to be placed in the conduct of important affairs. Some very high authorities, I must, at the same time, confess, may be quoted on the opposite side of the question; among others, that of Leibnitz, unquestionably one of the first names in modern philosophy. But, on this point, the mind of Leibnitz was not altogether unwarped; for he appears to have early contracted a partiality, not only for scholas- tic learning, but for the projects of some ofthe schoolmen to reduce, by means of technical aids, the exercise of the discursive faculty to a sort of mechanical operation ;—a partiality which could not fail to be cher- ished by that strong bias towards synthetical reasoning from abstract maxims, which characterizes all his philosophical speculations. It must be remembered, too, that he lived at a period, when logical address was still regarded in Germany as an indispensable accomplishment lo all whose taste led them to the cultivation of letters or of science. Nor * Such phrases, for example as 1. Fallacia Accidentis. 2. A dicto secundum quid, ad dictum simpliciter. 3- Ab ignorantia Elenchi. 4 A non causa pro causa. 5. Fallacia consequentis. 6. Petitio principii. 7. Fallacia planum interrogate num, £i*c. . . I have mentioned those fallacies alone which are called by logicians Fallaciae extra Dictimem ; for as to those which are called Fallaciae in Dictione (such as the Fallacia Aequivocationis, Fallacia Amphiboliae, Fallacia Accentus vel Pronuncia- tionis, Fallacia a Figura dictionis, &c.J they are too contemptible to be deserving of any notice.—For some remarks on this last class of fallacies, see note (M.) vol. ii. 20 154 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. III. was this an accomplishment of easy acquisition; requiring, as it must have done, for its attainment, a long course of laborious study, and, for its successful display, a more than ordinary share of acuteness, promp- titude, and invention. To all which it may be added, that while it re- mained in vogue, it must have been peculiarly flattering lo the vanity and self-love ofthe possessor; securing to him, in every contest vvith the comparatively unskilful, and infallible triumph. These considera- tions, (combined with that attachment to the study of jurisprudence which he retained through life) may, I think, go fiir to account for the disposition which Leibnitz sometimes shews to magnify a little too much the value of this art. It is, besides, extremely worthy of remark, with respect to this eminent man, within what narrow limits he cir< unk-cribes the province of the school logic, notwithstanding the favourable terms in which he occasionally speaks of it. The following passage iu one of his letters is particularly deserving of attention, as it confines the utility of syllogism to those controversies alone which are earned on iu ivriting, and contains an explicit acknowledgment that, in extemporaneous dis- cussions, the use of it is equally nugatory and impracticable. " I have myself experienced the great utility ofthe forms of logic in " bringing controversies to an end; and wonder how it has happened, " that they should have been so often applied to disputes where no issue '' was to be expected, while their real use has been altogether overluok- " ed. In an argumeit which is carried on viva voce, it is scarcely possi- " ble that the^rms should continue to be rigorously observed; not on- " ly on account of the tediousness ofthe process, but chiefly from the " difficulty of retaining distinctly in the memory all the different links " of a long chain. Accordingly, it commonly happens, that after one " prosyLogism, the disputants betake themselves to a freer mode of " conference. But if, in a controversy carried on in writing, the legiti- " mate forms were strictly observed, it would neither be difficult nor dis- " agreeable, by a mutual exchange of syllogisms and answers, to keep " up the contest,* till either the point to be proved was completely es- " tablished, or the disputant had nothing farther to allege iu support " of it For the introduction, however, of this into practice, many rules " remain to be prescribed ; the greater part of which are to be collected " from the practice of lawyers."'*!" This concession, from so consummate a judge, I consider as of great consequence in the present argument. For rny own part, if I were cal- led on to plead the cause of the school logic, I should certainly choose to defend, as the more tenable ofthe two posts, lhat which Leibnitz has voluntarily abandoned. Much might I think on this ground be plausi- bly alleged in its favour, in consequence of its obvious tendency to cul- tivate that invaluable talent to a disputant, which Aristotle has so sig- nificantly expressed by the word xyx,tioix,\—a talent of which the • The words in the original are—" non ingratum nee difficile foret, mittendo remittendoque syllogismo9 et responsiones, tamdiu reciprocare serram donee vel confectum sit quod probandum erat, vel nihil ultra habeat quod afferat argu- mentator." f Leibnitz. Op. Tom. V . p. 7% Edit Dutens. % Aristotle's definition of xy%ntix turns upon one only of the many advanta- ges which presence of mind bestows, in the management of a viva voce dispute Sect. III.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 155 utility cannot be so forcibly pictured, as in the lively and graphical de- scription given by Johnson, of the inconveniences with which the want of it is attended. tl There are men whose powers operate only at leisure and in retire- " ment, and whose intellectual vigour deserts them in conversation; w whom meriment confuses, and objection disconcerts ; whose bashful- " ness restrains their exertion, and suffers them not to speak till the lime " of speaking is past; or whose attention to their own character makes " them unwilling to utter, at hazard, what has not been considered and u cannot be recalled^** The tendency however of scholastic disputations to cure these defects, it must not be forgotten, belongs to them only in common with all other habits of extemporaneous debate; and the question still recurs Whether it would not be wiser to look for the remedy, in exercises more analogous to the real business of life ? After having said so much in disparagement of the art of syllogizing, I feel it incumbent on me to add, that I would not be understood to repre- sent a general acquaintance with it as an attainment of no value, even in these times. The technical language connected with it is now so incorpo- rated with all the higher departments of learning, that, independently of any consideration of its practical applications, some knowledge of its pe- culiar phraseology may be regarded as an indispensable preparation both fir scientific and for literary pursuits."** To the philosopher, it must ever remain a subject of speculation peculiarly interesting, as one ofthe most singular facts in the history of the Human Understanding. The ingenuity and subtlety of the invention, and the comprehensive reach of thought displayed in the systematical execution of so vast a de- sign, form a proud and imperishable monument to the powers of Aristo- H^' xy%tvoix eo-rit tvrra^ix rt% tt xtxcittoj xP0Vultoruro,et ad alia ineoPlnloaophoquaerendaexcitavit. Mansit lamen crebriorin p.un.bushominumet notior P'a.o, usque ad scbolas in Gallia el l'.alia publice constitutes, id est, quam philosophy. It does not seem, therefore, to be a very unreasonable supposition, that to these doctrines, (with which for many reasons he might judge it expedient to incorporate his own inventions and innovations,) he only gave that systematical and technical form, which, by its peculiar phraseology and other imposing appendages, was calculated at once to veil their imperfections, and to gratify the vanity of those who should make thern objects of study. It is surely not im- possible, that the syllogistic theory may have existed as a subject of ab- stract speculation, long before any attempt was made to introduce the syllogism into the schools as a weapon of controversy, or to prescribe rules for the skilful and scientific management of a viva voce dispute. It is true that Aristotle's language, upon this occasion, is somewhat loose and equivocal; but it must be iemembered,that it was addressed to his contemporaries, who were perfectly acquainted with the real ex- tent of his merits as an inventor; and to whom, accordingly, it was not necessary to state his pretensions in terms more definite and explicit. 1 shall only add, that this conjecture (supposing it for a moment to be sanctioned by the judgment ofthe learned) would still leave Aristotle incomplete possession of by far the most ingenious and practical part of the scholastic logic ;* while, at the same time,—should future re- searches verify the suspicions of Sir William Jones and others, that the first rudiments ofthe art were imported into Greece from the East,—it would contribute to vindicate his character against that charge of pla- If I were satisfied that this observation is just, I should think that nothing short of the most irresistible evidence could be reasonably opposed to the direct assertion of Aristotle. It is quite inconceivable, that he should have wilfully con- cealed or misrepresented the truth, at a period, when there could not fail to be many philosophers in Greece, both able and willing to expose the deception. * This was plainly the opinion of Cicero : " In hac arte (he observes, speaking ofthe dialectical art, as it was cultivated by the Stoics,*) in hac arte si modo est haec ars, nullum est praeceptum quomodo verum inveniatur, sed tantum est quo- modo judicetur."—And a few sentences after: "Quare istam artem totam dimit- tamus, quae in excogitandis argument's muta nimium est, in judicandis nimium loquax." (De Orat. Lib. ii. 86, 87.) The first sentence is literally applicable to the doctrine of syllogism considered theoretically: the second contrasts the inu- tility of this doctrine with the importance of such subjects as are treated of in Aristotle's Topics. . Whether Cicero and Quinctilian did not overrate the advantages to be derived from the study of the Loci as an organ of invention, is a question altogether for- eign to our present inquiries. That it was admirably adapted for those argument- ative and rhetorical displays which were so highly valued in ancient times, there can be no doubt, after what these great masters of oratory have written on the subject; but it does not follow, that, in the present state of society, it would reward the labours of those who wish to cultivate either the eloquence of the bar, ar that which leads to distinction in our popular assemblies. 160 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY CA027. IV. giarism, and of unfairness towards his predecessors, which has been admitted even by some who speak with the most unbounded reverence of his intellectual endowments From the logic of Aristotle, I now proceed to that of Lord Baron ; a logic which professes to guide us systematically in investigating the laws of nature, and in applying the knowledge thus acquired, to the enlarge- ment of human power, and the augmentation of human happiness. Of some ofthe fundamental rules by which this mode of philosophiz- ing is more peculiarly distinguished, I intend to treat at considerable length;—directing my attention chiefly to such questions as are con- nected with the theory of cur intellectual faculties. In this point of view, the author has left much to be supplied by his successors; the bent of his own genius having fortunately determined hirn rather to seize, by a sort of intuitive penetration, great practical results, than to indulge a comparatively sterile curiosity, by remounting lo the first sources of experimental knowledge in the principles arid laws of the human frame. It is to this humbler task that 1 propose to confine my- self in the sequel. To follow him through the details of his Method, would be inconsistent with the nature of my present undertaking. CHAPTER FOURTH. OF THE METHOD OF INQUIRY POINTED OUT IN THE EXPERIMENTAL OR IN- DUCTIVE LOGIC. SECTION I. Mistakes of the Ancients concerning the proper object of Philosophy.--Ideas of Bacon on the same subject.—Inductive Reasoning.— Analysis and Synthesis.— Essential difference between Legitimate and Hyp. Ihctical Theories. J_ havk had occasion to observe more than once, in the course of the foregoing speculations, that the object of physical science is not to trace necessary connexions, but lo ascertain constant conjunctions ; not to in- vestigate the nature of those efficient causes on which the phenomena ofthe universe ultimately depend, but to examine with accuracy what the phenomena are, and what the general laws by which they are regu- lated. In order to save repetitions, I here beg leave to refer to some observa- tions on this subject in the first volume. I request more particularly the reader's attention to what I have said, in the second section of the first chapter, on the distinction between physical and efficient causes; and ou the origin of that bia3 of the imagination which leads us to confound them under one common nan.e. That, when we see two evenlsconstantly con- joined as antecedent and consequent, our natural apprehensions dispose us to associate the idea of causation or efficiency with the former, and to ascribe to it that power or energy by which the change was produced, is a fact obvious and unquestionable: and hence it is, that in all languages, Sect. I.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 161 the series of physical causes and effects is metaphorically likened to a chain, the links of which are supposed to be indiss lubly and necessari- ly connected. The slightest reflection, at the same time, must satisfy us that these apprehensions are inconsistent, and even absurd; our knowledge of physical events reaching no farther than to the laws which regulate their succession ; and the words power and energy ex- pressing attributes not of matter but of mind. It is by a natural bias or association somewhat similar, (as I have remarked in the section above mentioned) that we connect our sensations of colour with the primary qualities of body * This idea of the object of physical science (which may be justly re- garded as the ground work of Bacon's Novum Orgarum) differs essen- tially from that which was entertained by the am-iei ts ; according to whom " Philosophy is the science of causes." If indeed by causes they had meant merely the constant forerunners or antecedents of events, the definition would have coincided nearly with the statement which I have given. But it is evident, that by causes they meant such antece- dents as were necessarily connected with the effects, and from a know- ledge of which the effects might be foreseei: and demonstrated : And it was owing to this confusion between the proper objects of physics and metaphy-ics, that, neglecting the observation of facts exposed to the examination of their senses, they vainly attempted, by synthetical rea- soning, to deduce, as necessary consequences from their supposed cau- ses, the phenomena and laws of nature.—'* Causa ea est," says Cioro, " quae id efficit cujus est causa. Non sic causa intelligi debet, ut qrod " cinque antecedat, id ei causa sit ; sed quod cuique effirienter ante« e- " dat.—Itaque dicebat Carneades ne Apolhnem quidem posse diceie ,( futura, nisi ea, quorum causa* natura ita contineret, ut ea fieri neces- " se essct. Causis . itiui efficienlibus quamque rem cognitis, posse de- " deuique sciri quid fulurum esset."'f * Were it not for this bias of the imagination to identify efficient with physical causes, the attention would be continually diverted from the necessary business of life, and the useful exercise ot our faculties suspended, in a fruitless astonishment at that hidden machinery, over which nature has drawn an impenetrable veil To prevent this inconvenient distraction of thought, a farther provision is made in that gradual and imperceptible process by which the changes in the state ol the Universe are, in general, accomplished. If an animal or a vegetable were brought into being hefore our eyes, in an instant of time,—tbe event would not be in itself more wonderful than their slow growth to maturity from an embryo, or from a seed. But, on the former supposition, there is no man who would not perceive and acknowledge the immediate agency of an intelligent cause ; whereas, accord- ing to ihe actual order of things, the effect s'eals so insensibly on the observation, that it excites little or no curiosity, excepting in those who possess a sufficient degree of reflection to contrast the present state of the objects around them, with their first origin, and with the progressive stages of their existence. f De Fato, 48, 49 The language of Aristotle is equally explicit. Lttio-txtOxi St otofteOx ixxvTot x-rXui, xXXx ft-v t«v o-oQio-tikov rpovov, to* xxtx 9Vf*.QtQt)Xo%, ctxi t«v t xitkx.1 oi*p.s6x ytvac-xtiv, 21 j>» to ir^xyftx tCTTIV, OTt fXtlVOV CtlTIX tO-TI, XXI (*.*> tV$t%tTXt TOt/T* XXX*>S t%t*»' Sciri, aulem putamus unamiquamqne rem siropliciter, non sophisuco modo, ,a est ex accidenti, cum putamus causam cognoscere Jlropter quam res est, ejusrei cau- sa m esse, nee posse earn aliter se habere.—Analyt. Poster. Lib. i. cap. 2. Nothing, however, can place in so strong a light Aristotle's idea of the connex- ion between physical causes and effects, as the analogy which he conceived it to bear to the connexion between the links of a mathematical chain of reasoning. Nor VOL. II. 21 162 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. From this disposition to confound efficient with physical causes, may be traced the greater part ofthe theories recorded in the history of phi- losophy. It is this which has given rise to the attempts, both in ancient and modern times, to account for al) the phenomena of moving bodies by means of impulse ;* and it is this also which has suggested the sim- pler expedient of explaining them by the agency of minds united with the particles of matter.t As the communication of motion by apparent impulse, and our own power to produce motion by a volition of the mind, are two facts, of which, from our earliest infancy, we have every moment had experience ; we are apt to fancy that we understand per- fectly the nexus by which cause and effect are here necessarily conjoin- ed ; and it requires a good deal of reflection to satisfy us that, in both cases we are as completely in the dark, as in our guesses concerning the ultimate causes of magnetism or of gravitation. The dreams of the Pythagorean school with respect to analogies or harmonies between the constitution ofthe universe, and the mathematical properties of figures and of numbers, were suggested by the same idea of necessary connex- ions existing among philosophical phenomena, analogous lo those which link together the theorems of geometry or of arithmetic ; and by the same fruitless hope of penetrating, by abstract and snythetical rea- soning, into the mysterious processes of nature. is the mode of speaking abandoned by his modem followers. '■ To deny a first cause (says Dr. Gillies) is to deny all causation : to deny axioms, is for the same reason, to deny all demonstration.1* (Vol. I. p. 108.) And in another passage. " We know a mathematical proposition, when we know the causes that make it true. In demonstration, the premises are the causes of the conclusion, and there- fore prior to it We cannot therefore, demonstrate things in a circle, supporting the premises by the conclusion ; because this would be to suppose, that the one proposition could be both prior and posterior to the other." (Ibid. p. 96.) Can one mathematical theorem bi said to be prior to another m any other sense than in respect of the order in which they are first presented to our knowledge.'* * See Philosophy ofthe Human Mind, Vol.1. Chap. i. sect. 2. With respect to the connexion between impulse and motion, I have the misfor- tune to differ from my very learned and highly respected friend, M. Prevost of Ge- neva; whose opinions on this point may be collected from the two following senten- ces. " La cause differe du simple eigne prgcurseur, parsa force, ou son encrgie productive.—L'iropulsion est un phenomeiie si commun, sounds a des loissi bien discutees, et si universelles, que toute cause quis'yreduit semble former une classe £minente, et menterseule le nom d' Agent." (~F.ssaU de Philosophie,Tome II. pp. 174, 175.) I have read with great attention all that M. Prevost has so ingeniously urged in vindication of the theory of his illustrious countryman Le Sage ; but without ex- periencing that conviction which I have in general received from his reasonings. The arguments of Locke and Hume on the other side of the question appear to my judgment, the longer I reflect on them, the more irresistible; not to mention the powerful support which they derive from the subsequent speculations of Bosco. vich. (See Locke's Essays B. II. chap. 13. § 28, 29, and Hume's Essay on Neces- sary Connexion, Parti. In employing the word misfortune, on this occasion, I have no wish to pay an unmeaning compliment ; but merely to express the painful diffidence which I al- ways feel in my own conclusions, when they happen to be at variance with those of a writer equally distinguished by the depth and by tbe candour of his philo- sophical researches. f To this last class of theories may also be referred the explanations of physical phenomena by such causes as sympathies, antipathies, Nature's horror of a void, 8cc. and other phrases borrowed by analogy from the attributes of animated be- ings. sect. I.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 163 Besides this universal and irresistible bias of the imagination, there were some peculiarities in the genius and scientific taste of Aristotle, which gave birth to various errors calculated to mislead his followers in their physical inquiries. Among these errors may be mentioned, as one of the most important, the distinction of causes (introduced by him) into the efficient, the material, the formal and the final;—a dis- tinction which, as Dr. Reid justly observes, amounts only (like many other of Aristotle's) to an explanation of the different meanings of an ambiguous word : and which, therefore, was fitter for a dictionary of the Greek language, than for a philosophical treatise.* Of the effect of this enumeration of causes in distracting the attention, some idea may be formed, when it is recollected, that, according to Aristotle, it is the business ofthe philosopher to reason demonstratively from all the four.f The same predilection of Aristotle for logical or rather verbal subtil- ties, encouraged, for many ages, that passion for fanciful and frivolous distinctions, which is so adverse to the useful exercise ofthe intellectual powers. Of its tendency to check the progress of physical knowledge, the reader will be enabled to judge for himself by perusing the lfjth and 17th chapters of Mr. Harris's Philosophical Arrangements ; which chapters contain a very elaborate and not inelegant view of what the author is pleased to call the ancient Theory of Motion. A later writer of the same school has even gone so far as to assert, that it is such re- searches alone which merit the title of the Philosophy of Motion ; and that the conclusions of Galileo and of Newton,—amounting (as they un- questionably do) to nothing more than a classification and generalization of facts, deserve no higher an appellation than that of Natural History.^ Incontrasting, as I have now done, the spirit of Bacon's mode of phi- losophizing with that ofthe ancients, I do not mean to extol his own no- tions concerning the relation of cause and effect in physics, as peculiar- ly correct and consistent. On the contrary, it seems to me evident, that he was led to his logical conclusions, not by any metaphysical analysis of his ideas, but by a conviction, founded on a review of the labours of his predecessors, that the plan of inquiry by which they had been guid- ed must have been erroneous. If he had perceived, as clearly as Bar- row, Berkeley, Hume, and many others have done since his time,§ that * Analysis of Aristotle's Logic. Chap. ii. sect 3. •j- Nat. Auscult. Lib. ii. cap. 7. i Ancient Metaphysics, passim. § In alluding to the relation between caur.e and effect, Bacon sometimes indul- ges his fancy in adopting metaphorical and popular expressions. " Namque in limine Philosophiae, cum secundae causae, tanquam sensibus proximae, ingerant se menti humanae, mensque ipsa in illis haereat, atque commoretur, oblivio primae causae obrepere possit. Sin quis ulterius pergat, causarumque dependentiam, seri- em, et concatenationem, atque opera providentiae intueatur, tunc secundum poeta- rum mythologiam, facile credet, summum naturalis catenae annulum pedi solii Jovis affigi." (De Aug. Scient, Lib. i.) This is very nearly the language of Seneca. " Cum fatum nihil aliud sit quam series implexa causarum, ilia est prima omnium causa ex qua ceterae pendent." In other instances, he speaks (and, in my opinion, much more philosophically) ofthe " opus quod operatur Deus a primordio usque ad finem ;"' a branch of knowledge which he expressly describes as placed beyond the examination of the human faculties. But this speculation, although the most interesting that can employ our thoughts, has no immediate connexion with the logic of physical sci- ence.—See Note (N.) 164 ELEMENTS OP THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. there is not a single instance in wliich we are able to trace a necessary connection between two successive events, or to explain in what man- ner ihe one follows from the other as an infallible consequence, he would have been naturally led to state his principles in a form far more coccise and methodical, and to lay aside much of that scholastic jaig.ui bv which his meaning is occasionally obscured. Notwithstanding, how- ever, this vagueness a d indistinct ess in his language, his compre- hensive and penetrating understanding, enlightened by a discrimina- ting survey of the fruitles- inquiries ol former ages, enabled him (to de- scribe, in the strongest and happiest terms, the nature, the object, and the limits of philosophical investigation. The most valuable pnrt of his works, at the same time, consists perhaps, iu his reflections on the errors of his predecessors ; and on the various cau.-es which have re- tarded the progress ofthe sciences and the improvement of the human mind That he should have executed, with complete success, a system of logical precepts for the prosecution of experimental inquiries, at a period when these were, for the first time, beginning to engage the at- tention of the curious, was altogether impossible; and yet in his attempt towards this undertaking, he has displayed a reach of thought and a justness of anticipation, whi. h, when compared with the discoveries of the two succeeding ceu'uries, seem frequently lo partake of the nature of prophecy. " Prout Physh a rnajora indies incrementa capiet, et nova 'axiomataeducet, eo m .theinaticae nova opera in multis indigebit, et " plures demum fient malhematicae mixtae."* Had he foreseen all the researches of the Newtonian school, his language could not have been more precise or more decided. " Bacon (it has been observed by Mr. Hume) was ignorant of geom- " etry ; and only pointed out at a distance the road to true philosophy.,1 —" As an author and philosopher," therefore, ihis historian pronounces him, " though very estimable, yet inferior to his contemporary Galileo, " perhaps even to Kepler."t—The parallel is, by no means, happily im- agined ; in as much as the individuals whom it brings into conrast, directed their attention to pursuits essentially different, and were char- acterized by mental powers, unsu:-ceptible of comparison. Asa geome- ter or astronomer, Baron has certainly no claim whatever to distinc- tion ; nor can it even be said, that, as an experimentalist he has en- riched science by one important discovery; but, in just and enlarged conceptions of the proper aim of philosophical researches, and of the means of conducting them, how far does he rise above the level of his age ! Nothing, indeed, can place this in so strong a light, as the history of Kepler himself: unquestionably one of the most extraordinary persons who adorned that memorable period, but deeply infected, as his writings shew, with prejudices borrowed from the most remote antiquity. The * De Aug. Scient. Lib. iii. cap. vi. By ibe word Axiom, Bacon means a general principle obtained by induction fro which we may safely proceed to reason synthetically. It is to be regretted, thai he did not make choice of a less equivocal term, as New on has plainly been misled by bis example, in the very illogical application of this name to the laws of mar. ion, and to those general facts which serve as the basis of our reasonings in ca uptrics and dioptrics. (See p. 29, of this volume.) I shall take this opportunity to remark, that Newton had evidently studied Ba- con's writings with care ; and has followed them (sometimes too implicitly ) in his logical phraseology. Of this remark various other proofs will occur afterwards. | History of England. Appendix to the reign of James I. Sect. I.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 165 mysterious theories ofthe Pythagoreans which I formerly mentioned, and which professed to find in the mathematical properties of figures and umbers, an explanation ofthe system ofthe universe, seem, from one of his earlier publications, to have made a strong impression on his imagination ;* while, at an after period of life, he indulged himself in a train of thinking about the causes of the planetary motions approaching to the speculations ofthe late learned author of Ancient Metaphysics. « Nego (says he, in his Commentaries on the planet Mars) ullum mo " tun perennem non rectum a Deo conditum esse praesidio menttdi de 11 stitututn.—Hujus motoris mauifestum est duo fore mt.nia ; alterum ut " facultate polleat transvectandi corporis; alterum ut scientia praeditus c' sit inveniendi circularem limitem per illarn puram auram aetheriam " nullis hujusmodi regionibus distinctam."—In another part of his work, he seriously gives it as his opinion, that the minds of the planets must have a power of making constant observations on the sun's apparent di- ameter, that they may thereby be enabled so to regulate their motions, as to describe areas proportioned to the times. " Credibile est itaque si " qua facultate praediti sint motores illi observandae hujus diametri, * Mysterium Cosmographicum, de admirabili proportione orbium coelestium de- que causis coelorum numeri, magnitudims, motuunique periodicorum genuinis et propriis, demonstratumper quinque regularia corpara Geometrica, 1598, Kt pier in. forms us, diat he sent a copy of this book toTychie Biahe ; the subject of wnose answer he has had the candour to record. " Argumentum literarum Brahei hoc erat, ut suspensis speculationibus a priori descendentibus, animum potius ad ob- servatinnes quas simul offerebat consid^randas adjicerem, inque iis primo gradu facto, postea demum ad causas ascenderem."—To this excellent advice the subse- quent discoveries, which have immortalized the name of Kepler, may, (in the opin- ion of Mr. Maclaurin) be ascribed. Account ofNewton"1 s Discoveries,Hook I. Chap.iii. An aphorism of Lord Bacon, concerning the relation which Mathematics bears to Natural Philosophy, exhibits a singular contrast to the aim and spirit ofthe Mysterium Cosmographicum. " In secunda schola Platonis, Procl: et aliorum, Na- turabs P1 ilosopiiia infecta et corrupta ftiit per Mathematicam ; quae Philosophiam Naturalem terminare, non generare autprocreare debet.'''' (Nov Org. Lib. 1. Aphor. xcvi.)—The very slender knowledge of ih's science which Bacon probably pos- sessed, renders it only the more wonderful, that he should have been so fortunate in seizing, or rather in dividing its genuine use and application, in physical re- searches. The ignorance of geometry \*rith which Mr. Hume reproaches Bacon, will not appear surprising, when it is considered, that, sixty years after the time when he lef' Cambridge, mathematical studies were scarcely known in that University. For this fact we have the direct testimony of Dr. Wallis (afterwards Astronomical Pro- fessor at Oxford,) who was admitted at Emanuel College, Cambridge, in 1632 ; and who informs us, that at that time, " Mathematics were scarce looked upon as Academical Studies, but rather Mechanical ; as the business of traders, merchants, seamen, carpenters, surveyors of land, and almanack-makers in London,"—Among moiv than two hundred students in our College, I do not know of any two who had more than I (if so much) which was then but little ; and but very few in that whole University. For the study of Mathematics was then more cultivated in London than in the Universities.'* (See an Account of some passages in the Life of Dr. Wallis, written by himself when he was upwards of eighty, and published by Hearne, in his edition of Lang- toft's Chronicle.) The same writer, from whom this information is derived, lived to see, not only the institution ofthe Royal Society of London, but the illustration which the Uni- versity of Cambridge derived from the names of Barrow and of Newton ; and even survived, for seventeen years, the publication of N.-wton's Principia.—Tl\a\ Lord Bacon's writings contributed, more than any other single cause, to give this sudden impulse to science in England, it is impossible to doubt. 166 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. iv. "earn tantoesse argu'iorem quam sunt oculi nostri quanto opus ejus et " perennis molio noslris tnrbuienlis et confusis nrgotiis est constantior. " An ergo bines singulis planetis tribues oculos, Keplere! Nequa- " quam. Neque eat necesse Neque enim ut moveri possint, pedes ip- " sis atque alae sunt tribuendae." From such extravagancies as these, how wide the transition to the fir-t sentence ofthe Novum Organon ! " Homo Naturae minister kt " INTK'tPRES TANTUM FACIT KT INTELLIGIT, QUANTUM DE NATIRAK OR- "DISK RE VEL MKNTK OBSEI VAVKRIT, NEC AMPUUS SCIT AUT POTEST." In calling man the interpre.tr of Nature, Bacon had plainly the same idea ofthe object of physic?, which I attempted te convey, when I said that what are commonly called the causes of phenomena, are only their established antecedents or signs ; and the same analogy which this ex- pression suggests to the fancy, has been enlarged upon at considerable length,by the inventive and philosophical Bishopof Cloyne, as the best illustration which he could give of the doctrine in question. It would be difficult, indeed, to select arother equally apposite and luminous ; and not less difficult to find an author equ.illy qualified to avail himself of its aid. I shall make no apology, therefore, for borrowing his words. " There is a certain analogy, constancy, and uniformity in the phe- nomena or appearances of nature, which area foundation for general *' rules ; and these are a grammar for the understanding of nature, or " that series of effects in the vi.-ible world, whereby we are enabled lo " foresee what will come to pass in the natural course of things Plo- " tinus observes, in his third bnnead, that the art of presaging is, in lt some sort, the reading of natural letters denoting order ; and thai so {< far forth as analogy obtains in the universe, there may be vaticina- " tion. And in reality, he that foretells the motions ofthe planets, or " the effects of medicines, or the results of chemical or mechanical expe- " riments, may be said to do it by natural vaticination. " We know a thing when we understand it, and we understand it "when we can interpret or tell what it signifies. Strictly the sense " knows nothing. We perceive indeed sounds by hearing, and charac- Ci ters by sight; but we are not therefore said to m derstand them. " After the same manner, the phenomena of nature are alike visible to *• all; but all have not alike learned the connexion of natural signs, or Ci understand what they signify, or know how to vaticinate by them. " There is no question, says Socrates in Theaeteto, concerning that il which is agreeable to each person, but concerning what will in time " to come be agreeable, of which all men are not equally judges. He " that foreknoweth what will be, in every kind is the wisest Accord- " ino* to Socrates, you and the cook may judge of a dish on the table " equally well; but while the dish is making, the cook can belter fore- '' tell what will ensue from this or that manner of composing it. Nor is " this manner of reasoning confined only to morals or politics, but ex- " tends also to natural science. " As the natural connexion of signs with the things signified is regu- ■■ lar and constant, it forms a sort of rational discourse, and is therefore '■ the immediate effect of an intelligent cause.'-* * Siris: or a Chain of Philosophical Reflections and Inquiries concerning the virtues of Tar-Water, §§ 252. 253, 254. Sect. 1.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 167 The same language with respect to the office and use of philosophy has been adopted by Reid, and at a much earlier period by Hobbes ; and it was evidently by a similar train of thinking (as I already hinted) that Bacon was led to call philosophy the interpretation of nature. According to the doctrine now stated, the highest, or rather the only proper object of Physics, is to ascertain those established conjunctions of successive events, which constitute the order of the Universe ; to record the phenomena which it exhibits to our observations, or which it discloses to our experiments ; and to refer these phenomena to their general laws. While we are apt to fancy, therefore, (agreeably to popular conceptions and language) that we are investigating efficient causes, we are in reality, only generalizing effects ; and when we ad- vance from discovery to discovery, we do nothing more than resolve our former conclusions into others still more comprehensive. It was thus that Galileo and Torricelli proceeded in proving that all terrestrial bodies gravitate towards the earth; and that the apparent levity of some of them is merely owing to the greater gravity ofthe atmosphere. In establishing this important conclusion, they only generalized the law of gravity, by reconciling with ita variety of seeming exceptions ; but they threw no light whatever on that mysterious power, in conse- quence of which all these phenomena take place. In like manner, when Newton shewed that the same law of gravity extends to the celestial spaces; and that the power by which the moon and planets are retained in their orbits is precisely similar in its effects to that which is manifested iu the fall of a stone,—he left the efficient cause of gravity as much in the dark as ever, and only generalized still farther the conclusions of his predecessors. It was, indeed, the most astonishing and sublime discovery which occurs in the history of sci- ence ; a discovery not of less consequence in Natural Religion than in Natural Philosophy,—and which at once demonstrated (indirect contradiction to all the ancient systems) that the phenomena exhibited by the heavenly bodies, are regulated by the same laws which fall under our observation on the surface of this globe. Still, however, it was not the discovery of an efficient cause, but only the generalization of a fact."* From what has been said, it is sufficently evident, that the ultimate object which the philosopher aims at in bis researches is precisely the * " The laws of attraction and repulsion r.re to be regarded as laws of motion, and these only as rules or methods observed in the production of natural effects, the efficient and final causes whereof are not of mechanical consideration. Cer- tainly if the explaining a phenomenon be to assign its proper efficient and final cause, it should seem the mechanical philosophers never explained any thing ; iheir province being only to discover the laws of nature; that is, the general rules and methods of motion ; and to account tor particular phenomena by reducing them under, or shewing their conformity to such general rules."—Berkeley's Siris. "■ The words attraction and repulsion may, in compliance with custom, be used where, accurately speaking, motion alone is meant.""—*' Attraction cannot produce, and in that sense account for, the phenomena ; being itself one of the phenomena produced and to be accounted for.1* Ibid. For some very important as well as refined observations on the respective prov- inces of physics and of metaphysics in the theory of mution, see a Tract by Dr. Berkeley, first published at London in 1721. The title is, De Motu ; sive de Mo- his principia et natura, et de causa communication'.<■ Motuum. Id8 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. same with that which every man of plain understanding, however un- educated, has in view, when he re:nark> the events which fall under hie observation, in order to obtain rules for the future regulation of hi* con- duct. The more knowledge of this kind we acquire, the better can we accommodate our conduct to the established course of things ; and the more are we enabled to avail ourselves of natural agents as instr menls for accomplLshing our purposes It is with truth, therefore, that Bacon so often repeats, that '• every accession which Man gains to his kuow- " ledge, is also an accession to his power ; and extends the limits of his ',l empire over the world which he inhabits." The knowledge of the philosopher differs from that information which is the fruit of common experience, not iu kind, but iu degree. The lat- ter i=, in general, confined to such facts as present themselves sponta- neously to the eye ; and so beautifully is the order of nature adapted to our wants and necessities, that while those laws in which we are most deeply interested are obtruded ou our notice from our earliest in- fancy, others are more or less removed from the immediate examination of our senses, to stimulate curiosity, and to present a reward to indus- try. That a heavy body, when unsupported, .vill fall downwards ; that a painful sensation would be felt, if the skin were punctured orlaeerat- ed ; that life might be. destroyed by plugging into a river, or by throw- ing one's self headlong from a precipice, are facts as we I known to the savage as to the philosopher, and of which the ignorance would »ie equally fatal to both. For acquiring this, and other information ofthe same sort, little else is requisite than the use of our perceptive organs : And accordingly, it is familiar to every man, long before the period that, in his maturer years, falls under the retrospect of memory. For acquiring a knowledge of facts more recondite, observation and experiment must be employed ;* and, aceordingly, the use of these media forms one of the characteristical circumstances by which the studies of the philosopher are distinguished from the experience ofthe multitude. How much the stock of his information must thereby be enlarged is sufficiently manifest. By habits of scientific attention, his accuracy as an observer is improved; and a precision is given to his judgment, es- * To these, Condorcet adds calculation, " Bacon (he observes) has revealed the "true method of studying nature, by employing the three instruments with which she has furnished us for the discovery of her secrt's,— >bservation, experiment, and calculation." (~ Tableau Historiqne des progres de PEsprit Humain.j In his enumeration, it appears to me tha there is a great defect, in point of logical dis- tinctness. Calculation is certainly not an instrument of discovery at all analogous to experiment and observation : it can accomplish nothing in the stndy of nature, till they have supplied the materials : and is indeed only one of the many arts by which we are enabled to give a greater degree of accuracy to their results. The use of optical glasses ; of the thermometer and barometer; of time-pieces ; arid of all the various instruments of practical geometry might, with equal propriety, have been added to the list. The advantages, at the same time, which Natural Philosophy has derived, in modern times, from the arithmetical precision thus given to scientific details, must be allowed to be immense ; and they would be well entitled to an ample illustra- tion in a system of inductive logic. To those who may wish to prosecute the sub- ject in this view, I would beg leave to suggest the word mensuration as equally precise, and more comprehensive, than the word calculation as employed by Con- . dorcet. Sect. I.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 169 sentially different from the vagueness of ordinary perception : by* a combination of his own observations with those made by others, he ar- rives at many conclusions unknown to those who are prevented, by the necessary avocations of human life, from indulging the impulse of a spe- culative curiosity ; while the experiments whieh his ingenuity devises, enable him to place nature in situations in which she never present* her- self spontaneously to view, and to extort from her, secrets, over which she draws a veil to the eyes of others.* * These primary and essential organs of accurate information ("observation and experiment J which furnish the basis to the whole superstructure of physic 1 sci- ence, are very daily and concisely described by Boscovich, in one of his notes on Stay's poem De Systemate Mundi. Observations fiunt spectando id quod na- tura per se ipsam sponte exhibet: htijusmodi sunt observationes pertinentes ad astronomiam et historiam naturalem. Experimenta fiunt ponendo naturam in eas circumstantias, inqu.'bus debeat agere et nobis ostendere id quodquaerimus, quod pertinet ad physican experimentalem. Porro et ferro et igni utimur, ac dissol* vimus per vim compagcm corpjrum, potissimum in chemia, et naturam quodamrao- do velut torquentes cogimus revelare sua secreta. I have elsewhere remarked, that the physical discoveries of the moderns have been chiefly owing to the skilful contrivance and conduct of experiments; and that this method of interrogating nature was, in a great measure, unknown niprehensive ; and, secondly to apply these general facts 'or as they are usually culled, the>e tan* of nature) to a synthetical explanation of parti< ular pheno- mena. These two processes of the mind, together with that judicious employment of observation and experiment which they ptesupp"St, ex- haust tie whole business of philosophical investigation; and the great oje t of the rules of philosophizing is, to show in what manner they ought to be conducted. I For the more complete illustration of this fundamental doctiine, it is necessary for me to recur to what has been already stated with re- spect lo our ignorance of efficient causes. As we can, in no instance, perceive the link by which two successive events are connected, so as to deduce, by any reasoning a priori, the one from the other as a conse- quence or effect it follows, that when we see an event take place which has been preceded by a combination of different circumstaii'-es, it is im- possible f >r human sagacity to ascertain whether the effect is connected with all the circumstances, or only with a pait of them ; and (on the latter supposition) wh ch ofthe circumstances is essential to the result, and which are merely accidental accessories or concomitants The only way, in such a case, of coming at the truth, is to repeat over the experiment again and again leaving out all the different circumstances successively, and observing with what particular combinations of them the effect is conjoined. If there be no possibility of making this sepa- ration, and if, at the same time, we wish to obtain the same result, the only method of insuring success is to combine together all the various circumstances which w*re united in on former trials. It is on this prin- ciple, that I have attempted, in a former chapter of this work, to ac- count for the superstitious observances which always accompany the practice of medicice among rude nations. These are commonly ascri- bed to the influence of imagination, and the low state of reason in the earlier periods of society • but the truth is, that they are the necessary and unavoidab.e consequences of a limited experience and are to be corrected, not by mere force of intellect, but by a more enlarged ac- quaintan e with the established order of nature * Observations perfectly similar to those which I made with respect lo medi ine at> applicable to all the other branches of philosophy. Wher- ever an inteiesting change is preceded hy a combination ot different cir- cumstanc s, it is of importance to vary our experiments in such a man- speculative doctrine, or the inventions which it has really produced, are, as it were, sponsors or vouchers for the ■ruths which it contains. Now, it is well known, that from the phi'osophy ofthe Greeks, with its num-rms derivative schools, hard- ly one experimental discovery can be collected whch has any teedency to aid or to ameliorate the condition of man, or which is entitled to rank with the acknow- ledged principles of genuine science."—" Wherefore, us in relig-on, failh is proved by i-s works, so in philosophy, it weie to be wished, that dmse 'heories should be accounted vain, which, when tried by iheir fruit*, an barren :—much more those, which, instead of grfipes and olives, have produced only the thorns and thistles of controversy."—Nov. Org. L-b. i. Aph, ixiu. " Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, Vol. I. Chap. v. Part ilaect. i. Sect. I.J OF THE HUMAN MIND. 171 ner as to distinguish what is »^sential from what is accessory ; and when we have carried the decomposition as far as we can, we are entitled lo consider this simplest combination of indispensable conditions, as the physical cause of the event. When by thus comparing a number of cases, agreeing in some eir- cumstances, but differing in others, and all attended with the same re- sult, a philosopher connects, as a general law of nature, the event with its* physical cause, he is said to proceed according to the method of in- duction. This, at least, appears to me to be the idea which, in general^ Bacon himself annexes to the phrase :* alth- ugh I will not venture to affirm, that he has always employed it with uniform precision. I ac- knowledge, aiso, that it is often used by very accurate writers, to denote the whole of lhat system of rules, of which the process just mentioned forms the most essential and charactcristical part. The same word induction is employed by mathematicians in a sense not altogether different. In that general frmula (for instance) known by the name of the Binomial Theorem, having found that it corres- ponds with the tabie of powers raised from a Binomial root, as far as it is > arried by actual multiplication, we have no scruple to conclude, that it hoid-s un. versa ily Such a proof of a mathematical theorem is called a proof by induction;—a mode of speaking obviously suggested by the previous application of this term to our inferences concerning the laws of nature. Th^re is, at the same time, notwithstanding the ob* vious analogy between the two cases, one very essential circumstai ce by which they are discriminated ;—that, in mathematical induction, we are led to our conclusion (as I s'tall afterwards endeavour to shew) by a process of thought, which, although not confo mable lo the rules of legitimate demonstration, involves, nevertheless, a logical inference of the understanding with respect lo an universal truth or theorem ; where- at*, in drawing a general physical conclu ion from particular facts, we are guided merely by our instin tive expectation of the continuance of the laws of nature; an expectation which, implying little, if any, exercise of the reasoning powers, operates alfke on the philosopher and ou the .-avage. To this belief in the permanent uniformity of phy- sical laws, Dr. Reid long ago gave the name of the inductive principle. " It is from the force of this principle (he observed) that we immedi- " ately assent to that axiom upon which all our knowledge of nature " is built That effects of the t,aiiie kind must have the same cause. " For effects and causes, in tne operations of nature, mean nothing but " signs, and the things signified by them. We perceive no proper "casualty or efficiency in any natural cause; but only a connexion es- " tabhshed by the course of nature between it and what is called its «effe.ts."t v A late celebrated writer, more distinguished by the singular variety and versatility ol his talents than by the depth or soundness of his un- derstanding, was pleased to consider Reid's inductive ptinciple as a fit • Inductio, quae ad inventionem et demonstrationem scientiarum et ariium erit utilis, n-i'.uram separare debet, per rejectiones et exclusiones debitas, &c. &c.— Nov. Org. Lib. 1. Aph. cv. f Inquiry into the Human Mind. Chap. vi. Sect. 24. 172 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. subject of ridicule; asserting that the phenomena in question was easily explicahle by the common principles of experience and the association of ideas. " Though no man (says be) has bad any experience of what " is future, every man ha? had experience of what was future."*' Of the shallowness of this solution philosophers are, I believe, now very generally convinced : but even if the case were otherwise, the fact re- marked by Reid would be equally entitled to the attention of logicians as the basis of all physical -cicnce, nor would it be easy to distinguish it by a name less liable to objection than that which he has selected. In all Bacon's logical rules, the authority of this law of belief is virtu- ally recognized, although it is nowhere formally stated in his writings; and although the doctrines connected with it do not seem to be easily reconcilable with some of his occasional expressions It is indeed only of late that natural philosophers have been fully aware ot its importance as the ground work of the inductive lo Philosophy of the Human Mind, Vol. I. Chap. vi. Sect. iv. seet. l] of the human mind. 173 which the physical laws combined together are comparatively few, and are insulated from the influence of those incalculable accidents which, in general, disturb the regularity of terrestrial phenomena. In by far the greater number of instances, the appearances of nature depend on a variety of different laws, all of which are often combined together in producing one single event: And, wherever such a combination hap- pens, although each law may take place with the most complete uni- formity, it is likely that nothing but confusion will strike the mere ob- server. A collection of such results, therefore, would not advance us one step in the knowledge of nature ; nor would it enable us to antici- pate the issue of one new experiment. In cases of this description, before we can avail ourselves of our past experience, we must employ our reasoning powers in comparing a variety of instances together, in' order to discover by a sort of analysis or decomposition, the simple laws which are concerned in the phenomenon under consideration; after which, we may proceed safely, in determining a priori what the result will be of any hypothetical combination of them, whether total or par- tial* These observations have led us to the same conclusion with that which forms the great outline of Bacon's plan of philosophizing; and which Newton has so successfully exemplified in his inquiries concern- ing gravitation aHd the properties of light. While they point out, too, the respective provinces and uses of the analytic and the. synthetic methods, they illustrate the etymological propriety ofthe names by which, in the Newtonian School, they are contradistinguished from each other.. In fact, the meaning ofthe words analysis and synthesis, when appli- ed to the two opposite modes of investigation in physics, is extremely analogous to their use in the practice of chemistry. The chief difference lies in this, that, in the former case, they refer to the logical processes ofthe understanding in the study of physical laws ; in the latter, to the operative processes of the laboratory in the examination of material substances. If the foregoing remarks are well founded, they lead to the correction of an oversight which occurs in the ingenious and elegant sketch of the History of Astronomy, lately published among the posthumous works of Mr- Smith ; and which seems calculated to keep out of view, if not en- tirely to explode that essential distinction which I have been endeav- ouring to establish, between the inductive logic of Bacon's followers, and the hypothetical theories oftheir predecessors. " Philosophy" (says Mr. Smith) " is the science of the connecting * " Itaque naturae facienda est prorsus solutio et separatio; non per ignem certe, sed per mentem tanquam ignem divinum." Nov. Organ. Lib. II. Aphor. xvi. The remainder ofthe aphorism is equally worthy of attention ; in reading which, how-. ever, as well as the rest of Bacon's philosophical works, I must request, for a rea- son afterwards to be mentioned, that the word law may be substituted for form, wherever it may occur.—An a'tention to this circumstance will be found of much use in studying the Novum Organon. A similar idea, under other metaphorical disguises, often occurs in Bacon.— Considering the circumstances in which he wrote, logical precision was altogether impossible; yet it is astonishing witb what force he conveys the spirit of the sound- est philosophy of ihe eighteenth century. " Neque enim in piano via sita est, sed ascendendo et descendendo ; ascendendo primo ad axiomata, descendendo ad opera.** Nov. Org. Lib. i. Aphor. ciii. 174 elements of the philosophy [chap iv. " principles of nature. Nature, after the largest experience thai com- " mon observation can acquire, seems to abound with events which ap- " pear solitary and incoherent, with all that go before them; which " therefore disturb the easy movement of the imagination : which mukes " its ideas succeed each other, if one may tay so, by irregular --tarts "and sall.es; and which thus tend, iu some measure, to introduce a "confusion and distraction and giddiness ol mind. Philosophy, by " representing the invisible chains whii-h bind together a.I these disjoint- " ed objects endeavours to introduce order into thi> chaos of jarnng " and discordant appearances ; to allay this tumult of the imagination ; " and to restore it, when it surveys the great revolutiorsof the universe, u to that tone of tranquillity and composure, which is both most agreea- u ble iu itself, and mojl suitable lo its nature. Philosophy, therefore, " may le regarded as one of ihose arts which address themselves to the " imagination, by rendering the theatre of nature a more coher ut, arid, " therefore, a more magnificent spectacle, than otherwise it would have " appeared to be " That ibis is one ofthe objects of philopophy, and one of the advan- tages resulting from il. I very readily admit.—But, surely, it is not the leading object of that plan of inductive investigation which was recom- mended by Bacon, and wlvch has been so skilfully pursued by Newton. Of all philosophical systems, indeed, hypothetical or legitimate, it must be allowed, that, to a certain degree, they both please the imagination and assist the memory, by introducing order and arrangement among facts, which had the appearance, before, of being altogether uncon- nected and isolated But it is the peculiar and exclusive prerogative of a system fairly obtained by the method of induction, that, while it ena- bles us to arrange facts already known, it furnishes the means of ascer- taining, by synthetic, reasoning, those which we have no access to ex- amine by direct observation. The differen *e, besides, among hypothe- tical theories, is merely a difference of degree, arising from the greater or less ingenuity oftheir authors; whereas legitimate theories are dis- tii'jiuished from all others radically and essentially; and. accordingly, while the former are liable to perpetual vicissitudes, the latter are as permanent as the laws which regulate the order ofthe univerae. Mr. Smith himself has been led by this view of the object of philoso- phy, into expressions concerning the Newtonian discoveries, which seem to intimate, that, although he thought them far superior, in p int of ingenuity, to any thing the world had seen before, yet that he did not consider them as so completely exclusive of a still happier system in time to come, as the Newtonians are apt to imagine. " The system of New " ton" (he observes) " now prevails overall opposition, and has advan- " ced to the acquisition of the most universal empire that was ever esta- " biished iu philosophy. His prii ciples, it must be acknowledged, have "a decree of firmness and solidity that «e should in vain look for in " any other ^siem. The most sceptical cannot avoid feeling this.—. " They -iot only connect together most perfectly all the phenomena of " the heavens which had been observed before this time ; but those " also which the persevering industry and more perfect instrumenis of " later astronomers have made known to us, have been either easily and " imuediately explained by the application of his principle*, or have " been explained inconsequence of more laborious and accurate calcu- sect, il] op the human mind. 175 " lations from these principles, than had been instituted before. And " even we, while we have been endeavouring to represent all phjlosophi- " cal. s-^stems as mere inventi/m of the imagination, to connect together " the otherwise disjointed and discordant phenomena of nature, have " insensibly been drawn in to rmike use of laugua >;e expressing the con- " n<:cting principles of this one, as if they were the real chains which " nature makes u*e of. to bind together r-.er several operations." If the view which I have given of Lord Bacon's plan of investigation be just, it will folLw, That the Newtonian theory of gravitation can, in no respect whatever, admit of a comparison with those systems which are, in the slightest degree, th" offspring of imagination ; in as much as the principle employed to explain the phenomena is not a hypothesis, but a general fact established by induction; for which fact we have the very same evidence as for the various particulars comprehended under it. The Newtonian theory of gravitatior, therefore, and every other theory which rests on a similar basis, is as little liable to be supplanted by the labours of future ages, as the mathematical conclusions of Euciid and Archim des. The doctrines which it involves may be delivered in different, and perhaps less exceptionable forms; but, till the order of the universe shall be regulated by new physical laws, their substance must forever remain essentially the same. On the chains, indeed, which na- ture makes use of to bind together her several operations, Newton has throvi n no light whatever; nor was it the aim of his researches to do so. The subjects of his reasonings were not occult connexions, hut particu- lar phenomena, and general laivs;—both of them possessing all the evidence whi-h can belong to facts ascertained by observation and ex- periment. From the one or the other of these all his inferences, whether analytical or synthetical, are deduced: Nor is a single hypothesis in- volved in his data, excepting the authoiity of that Law of belief which it tacitly and ne e?sarily assumed in all our physical conclusions,—The stability of the order of nature. SECTION II. Continuation of the Subject.—The Induction of Aristotle compared with that of Bacon. In this section I intend to offer a few slight remarks upon an asser- tion which has been hazarded with some confidence in various late pub- lications, that the method of investigation, so m-ch extolled by the ad- mirers of Lord Bacon, was not unknown to Arist tie.—It is thus very strongly stated by the ingenious author of a memoir iu the Asiatic Re- searches.* " From some of the extracts contained in this paper, it will appear, " 1st, That the mode of reasoning •«> induction, illustrated and improved " by the great Lord Verula u in his Organum Ncvum, and generally " considered as the cuus.e of the rapid progress of scien e ic later times, " was peifecUy known to Aristotle, and was distinctly delineated by him, * Asiatic Researches, Vol. VIII. p. 89,90. London Edition. 176 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [ch(t]). IV. u as a method of investigation that leads to certainty or Iruth : and «?dly, '* That Aristotle was likewise perfectly acquainted, not merely witb the " form of induction, but with the proper materials to be employed in " carrying it on—facts and experiments. We are therefore led lo con- " elude, that all the blame of confining the human mind for so long a " time in chains, by the force of syllogism, cannot be fairly imputed to (( Aristotle; nor all the merit of enlarging it, and setting it free, nscrib- " ed to Lord Verulam." The memoir Irom which this passage is copied, consists of extracts translated (through the medium ofthe Persian) from an Arabic treatise entitled the Essence of Logic. When it was first presented to the Asia- tic Society, the author informs us, that he was altogether ignorant of the coincidence of his own conclusions with those of Dr Gillies: and he seems to have received much satisfaction from the subsequent peru- sal ofthe proofs alleged in support of their common opinion by that learned writer. " From the perusal of this wonderful book (Dr. GMies's " exposition of the ethics and politics of Aristotle) 1 have now thesatis- '• faction to discover, that the conjectures I had been led to draw from " these scanty materials, are completely confirmed by the opinion of an u author, who is probably better qualified than any preceding commen- " tator on Aristotle's works, to decide on this subject."* It is observed by Bailly in his History of Astronomy, that, although frequent mention is made of attraction in the writings of the ancients, we must not therefore " conclude that they had any precise or just idea "of that law into which Newton has resolved the phenomena ofthe " planetary revolutions. To their conceptions, this word presented the " notion of an occult sympathy between different objects ; and if any of " them extended il from the descent of terrestrial bodies to explain the " manner in which the moon was retained in her orbit, it was only an * exhibition upon a larger scale of the popular crror."t The same author has remarked, on a different occasion, that, in order to judge of the philosophical ideas entertained at a particular period, it would be necessary to possess the dictionary ofthe age,—exhibiting the various shades of meaning derived from fa-hion or from tradition. " The im- " port of words (he adds) changes with the times : their signification '* enlarging with the progress of knowledge. Languages are every " moment perishing in detail from the variations introduced by custom: " they grow old like those that speak them, and like them gradually al- " ter their features and their form."'": If this observation be just, with respect to the attraction ofthe an- cients, when compared with the attraction of Newton, it will be found to apply with still greater force to the induction of Aristotle,^ consider- ed in contrast with the induction of Bacon. It is well known to those who are at all conversant with Bacon'e * Asiatic Researches, Vol. VIII. p. 89, 90. London Edition. f Hist, de 1"Astronomie Moderne, Tome II. p. 555, 550 t Hist, de l'Astronomie Moderne, Tome HI. p. 184 § Es-ceyayi). Translated fnductis by Cicero 9€Ct. IL] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 177 writings, that, although he borrowed many expressions from the scho- lastic phraseology then in vogue, he has, in general, not only employed them in new acceptations, conso'iant to the general spirit of his own lo- gic, but has, by definitions or explanations, endeavoured togu-rd his readers against the mi takes to which they might be exposed, from a want of attention to the innovations thus introdu- ed in the use of con- secrated terms. How far he judged wisely in adopting this plan, (which has certainly much injured his sty >e iu point of perspicuity) I do not pre- sume to decide : I wish only lo state ihe fact:—his motives may be judged of from his own words. " Nobis vero ex altera parte (quibus, quantum calamo valemus inter a vete>*a et nova in Uteris foedus et commercium contrahere, cordi est) " decretum manet, antiquitatem comitari usque ad aras; atque vocabila i( antiqua retinere, quanquam sensuin eorum et definitioues saepiu> im« '' rnutemus ; secundum moderatum ilium et laudatum, in Civilians, uo- " vandi modum, quo rerum statu novato, verborum tamen solennia du- " rent; quod uotat Tacitus; eadem magistratuwn vocabula."* Of these double signifi ations, so common in Bacon's phraseology, a remarkable instance occurs in the use which he makes of the scholastic word forms. In one passage, he approves of the opinion of PI to, that the investigation of forms is the proper object of science; adding, how- ever, that this is not true of the forms which Plato had in view, but of a different sort of forms, more suited to the grasp of our faculties.*!* In another passage, he observes, that when he employs the word forma, in speaking of natural philosophy, he is always to be understood as mean- ing the laws of nature.\ Whether so accurate a reasoner as Locke would have admitted Bacon's general apology for so glaring an abuse of words, may perhaps he doubted : but after comparing the two forego- ing senteuces, would Locke (notwithstanding his ignorance of the syl- logistic art) have inferred, that Bacon's opinion of the proper object of science was the same with tnat of Plato ? The attempt to identify Ba- con's induction with the induction of Aristotle, is (as 1 trust will inline- * D. Aug. Scient. Lib. iii. Cap. iv. The necessity under whieh the anti-Aristotelians found themselves, in the earlier part of the 17ih century, of disguising their attack on the prevailing tenets, is strongly illustrated in a letttr from Des Cartes to Regius, " Pourquoi rejeitez- vous publiquement les qualite's re'elles et les formes substantiates, si cheres auxscho- lastiques : J'ai declare, que je ne preendois pas les nier, mais que je n'en avois pas besoin pour exphquer mes pt.ns.6es."' ■j- Manifestum est, Platonem, virum sublirois ingenii (quique veluti ex rupe ex- celsa omnia circumspiciebai) in sua dc ideis doctrina, formas esie verum scientiae ebjectvm, vidisse; utcunque sententiae hujus venssimae fruclum amisent, formas pennus a materia abstractas, non in materia determinatas contemplando et pren- sando. Quod si diligenter, serio, et sincere, ad actionem, et usum, et oculoscon- vertamus ; non difficile erit disquirere, et notitiam asstqui, quae sint illae formae, quarum cognitio res humaiias miris modis loctipletare et beare possit. De Aug- ment. Scient Lib. iii. Cap. iv. * Nos quum de fot mis loquimur, nil aliud intelligimus, quam leges illas, quae naturam ahquam simplicem ordinant et consiituunt; ut talorem, lumen, pondus, in omnimoda materia et subjecto susceptibili. Itaque eadem res est forma cajidi, aut/orma luminis, et lex calidi, sive lex luminis.—Nov. Org. Lib. ii. Aph. xvii. VOL. II. 23 178 ELEMETnTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. diatelv appear) infinitely more extravagant. It is like confounding the Christian Graces with the Graces of Heathen Mythology. The passages in which Bacon has been at pains to guard against the possibility of such a mistake are so numerous, that it is surprising how any person, who had ever turned over the pages of the Novum Organon, should have been so unlucky as not to have lighted upon some one of them. The two following will suffice for my present purpose. " In constitueudo autem axiomate, forma inductionis alia quam ad- •' hac in usu fuit, excogitanda est. Inductio enim quae procedit per " enumerationem simplicrm res puerilis est, et precario concludit. At " induc(i/>, quae ad inveutionem et deci.onstrationem scientiarum et ar- " tium erit utilis, naturam separare debet per rejectiones et exclusiones " debitas; ac deinde post negativas tot quot sufficiunt, super affirma- " tivas concludere ; quod adhuc factum non est, nee tentalum certe, " nisi tantummodo a Platone, qui ad excutiendas definitioues et idaeas, " hac certe forma inductionis aliqua tenus utitur. Verum ad hujus in- " ductionis, sive demonstralionis, instruclionem bouam et legitimam, " quau.plurima adhibeuda sunt, quae adhuc nullius morlalium cogita- " tionem subiere ; adeo ut in ea major sit consumenda opera, quam ad- " hue coiusumpta est in syllogisirao. Atque in hac certe induttione, spes (i iiMxima sita est.''* ----" Cogilavit et illud—Restare inductionem, tanquam ultimum et " unicum rebus subsidium et p» rfiigimn. Verum et hujus nomen lan- " tunui-odo notum esse ; vim et usum homines hactenus latuisse."t That I may not, however, be aco sed of resting my judgment entire- ly upon evidence derived from Bacon's writings, it may be proper lo consider, u ore particularly, to what the induction of Aristotle really, amounted, and in what respects it coincided with lhat to which Bacon has extended the same name. " Our belief (say- Aristotle in one passage) is, in every instance foun- " ded either on syllogism or induction." To which observation he adds, in the course ofthe same chapter, lhat " induction is an inference drawn " from all the particulars which it comprehends.";*: It is manifest, that, upon this occasion. Aristotle speaks of that induction which Bacon, in one of the extracts quoted above, describes as proceeding by simple enumeration; and which he, therefore, pronounces to be '• a puerile " employment ofthe mind, and a mode of reasoning leading to uncer- " tain conclusions." Iu confirmation of Bacon's remark, it is sufficient to mention, by way of illustration, a single example; which example, to prevent cavils, I shall borrow from one of the highest logical authorities,—Dr. Wallis of Oxford. * Nov. Org. Lib. i. Aph. cv. fCogitata et Visa. The short tract to which Bacon has prefixed this title con- tains a summary of what he seems to have considered as the leading tenets of his philosophical works. It is one of the most highly finished of all his pieces, and is marked tliroughout with an impressive brevity and solemnity, which commands and concentrates the attention Nor does it affect to disguise that consciousness of intellectual force, which might be expected from a man destined to fix a new era in tbe history of human reason.—Franciscus Baconus sic cogilavit, he. &c * First Analytics, Chap, xx'iii. Vol. I. p. 126. Edit. Du Val. Sect. II.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 179 "In an inference from induction, (says this learned writer) if the enu- " meration be complete, the evidence will be equal to that of a perfect " syllogism ; as if a person should argue, that all the planets (the Sun (i excepted) borrow their light from the Sun, by proving this separately " of Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Venus, Mercury, and the Moon. It is, in " fact, a syllogism in Darapti, of which this is the form : " Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Venus, Mercury, and the Moon, each borrow " their light from the Sun : " But this enumeration comprehends all the Planets, the Sun excepted: " Therefore all the Planets, (the Sun excepted) borrow their light from " the Sun."* If the object of Wallis had been to expose the puerility and the pre- cariousness of such an argument, he could not possibly have selected a happier illustration. The induction of Aristotle, when considered in this light, is indeed a fit companion for his syllogism: in as much, as nei- ther < an possibly advance us a single step in the acquisition of new knowledge. How different from both is the induction of Bacon, which, instead of carrying the mind round in the same circle of words, leads it from the past to the futur , from the known to the unlcnownf'f Dr. Wallis afterwards very justly remarks, "that inductions of this " sort are of frequent use in mathematical demonstrations ; in which, " after enumerating all the possible cases, it is proved, that the propo- " sition in question is true of each of these considered separately; and " the general conclusion is thence drawn, that the theorem holds uni- " versally. Thus, if it were shewn, that, in all right-angled triangles, * Institutio Logica, Lib. iii. cap. 15. The reasoning employed by Wallis to shew that the above is a legitimate syllogism in Darapti, affords a specimen of the fa- cility with which a logical conjuror can transform the same argument into the most different shapes. " Siquis objiciat, hunc non esse legitimum in Darapti syllogis- mum, eo quod con clusionem habeat universalem; dicendum erit hanc universalem qualis, qualis est) esse universalem collectivam ; quae singularis est. Es'que vox omnis hie loci (quae dici solet) pars Categorematica; utpote pars termini minoris (ut ex minori propositione liquet) qui hie est (non Planetae .sed) omnes Planetae ("excepto sole,j sett to ta collectio reliquorum (excepto sole) Planetariim, quae col- lectio unica est; adeoqueconclusio singularis. Quae quidem (ut singulares aliae) quamvis sit proposhf.o Universalis, vi materiae; non tamen talis est ut non possit esse conclusio in tertia figura. Quippe in tertiafigura quolies minor terminus, seu praedicatum minoris propositions (adeoque subjectuii conclusionis) es' quid sin- gulare, necesse est ut conclusio ea sit (vi materiae, non formae) ejusmodi univer- salis." In justice to Dr. Wallis, it is proper to subjoin to these qyotations, a short ex- tract from the dedication prefixed to this treatise.—" Exempla retineo, quae apud logicos trita sunt: ex philosophia quam vocant Veterem et Peripateticam pet tu : quia logicam hie trado, et quidem Peripateticam ; non naturalem philosophiam. Adeoque, de quatuor elementis ; de telluns qmete in universi medio; ue gravium motu deorsum, leviumque sursum: de septenario planetarum numero, alusque: sic loquor, ut loqui solent Peripatetici." ■fin arte judicandi (ut etiam vulgoeceptum est aut per inductionem, aut per Syl- logismum concluditur. At quatenus ad judicium, quod fit per indue'ionem. nihil est, quod nos detinere debeat; uno siquidem eodemque mentis opere illud quod quae- ritur,et invenitur etjudicatur.—At inductionis formam vitiosam prorsus vaiiic ju- bemus ; legitimam ad Novum Organum remittimus."—De Aug. Scient. Lib. v Cap. iv. 180 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. '* the thrte triangles are equal to two ri-rht angles, and that the *»me " thing is true in all acute-tingled, and also in all obtuse-angled Irian- " gles ; it would necessarily lollow, that in every triangle the three u angles are equal to two right angles: these three cases manifestly '• exhausting all the possible varieties of which the hypothesis is *ur*- %t ceptible." My chief motive for introducing this last passage, was to correct an idea, which it is not impossible, may have contributed to mislead some of Waltis's readers. As the professed design ofthe treatise in question, was to expound the logic of Aristotle, agreeably to the views of its ori- ginal author ; and as all its examples at siit to T£tyttioi in ivo •gBxif to-ot f. ^.jj T8V TO^ITTtKOf Tg»t«» ov$t xxioXov Tgiysftot, *vi' Il fiuiti tTTl TTKgX TttVTX T(iyO)10V tTtgOf' OV yxg, »| Tf I'/OHOf *l$t*' ovit VXt T^'yaio* xXX' ») xxt xfttfcot' xxt' ttdot it ov zrxt, xxi ti i*.i)$t* trrit • ovx ait.— ti,ii)l. PoMt : Lib i. Lap v. " *>•. , ndered he last clause according to the best of my judgment; but in cas^ of any misapprehension on my pu.rt, I have transcribed the author's words. It nm be pn.pei tr ment on, thai tlii- illustration is no produced by Ans oile as an .nstuuet i.t induction; but u obviousli falls under his own definition of it, and is accordingly coi.sideied in that l.ght by Dr. Wallis. sect, il] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 181 " two right angles ; another went farther, and shewed the same thing u of Ihose that have two sides equal, and are called isosceles triangles : " and it was a third that found that the theorem was general, and ex- " tended to triangles of all sorts. In like manner, when the science u was further advanced, and they came to treat of the conic sections, " the plane of the section was always supposed perpendicular to the " side ofthe cone ; the parabola was the,only section that was consider- " ed in the right-angled cone, the ellip.se iu the acute angled cone, and " the hyperbola in the obtuse-angled. From these three sorts of cones, " the figures of the sections had their names for a considerable time; " till at length, Apollonius shewed that they might all be cut out of " any one cone, and, by this discovery, merited in those days theappeU " kvion ofthe Great Geometrician "* It would appear, therefore, that, in mathematics, an inductive infe- rence may not only be demonstratively certain, but that it is a natural, and sometimes perhaps a necessary step in the generalization of our knowledge. And yet it is one of the most unexceptionable inductive conclusions in this science (the only science in which it is easy to con- ceive an enumeration which excludes the possibility of any addition) that Aristotle has spoken,—as a conclusion resting on sophistical evi- dence. So much with respect lo Aristotle's induction, on the supposition that the enumeration is complete. Iu cases where the enumeration is imperfect, Dr. Wallis afterwards observes, 'l That our conclusion can only amount to a probability or to u a conjecture ; and is always liable to be ove-turned by an instance " to the contrary." He observes also *' That this sort of reasoning is " the principal instrument of investigation in what is now called experi- li mental philosophy ; in which, by observing and examining particu- " lars. we arrive at the knowledge of universal truths."* All this is clearly and correctly expressed ; but it must not be forgotten, that it is the language of a writer trained in the schools of Bacon and of Newton. Even, however, the iud ction here described by Dr. Wallis, falls greatly short ofthe method of philosophizing pointed out in the Novum Organon. It coincides exa- tly wilh those empirical inferences from mere experience, of which Bacon entertained such slender hopes for the advancement of science. " Re«lat experientia mera ; quae si oc- " currat, causus; si quaesita sit, experimentum nominatur. Hoc au- '' te.ui experientiae genus nihil alh.d est, quam mera palpatio, quali ho- " mines noctu utuntur, omnia pertentando, si forte in rectatn viam in- " cidere detur; quibus multo satius et consultius foret, diem praesdolari ** aut lumen accendere. deinceps viam inire. At contra, verus experi- " entiae ordo priino lumen aon " some other'occasion, shew by some examples ; whereby it will plainly " appear how much more useful it is for the finding out the ways for '-solution of problems, than that which is now generally known and " practised by species "* The foregoing remarks, although rather of a critical than of a philo- sophical nature, may, 1 hope, be of some use in giving a little more pre- cision to our notions ou this important subject. They are introduced here, not with the most distant view to any alteration in our established language (which, in the present instance, appears to me to be not only unexceptionable, but very happily s gnifiYaiit of its true logical import,) but merely to illustrate the occasional influence of words over the most powerful understandings; and the vagueness of the reasonings into only instance of that kind which 1 design to produce, for that I have diverse in- stances of the like na.ure, wherein, from a hypo hesis being supposed, on j p re- ined it., ted design, all the phenomena of the subject will be a priori foretold, and the effects naturally follow, as proceeding from a cause so and so qual fied and limited. ind, in truth, the synthetic way, by experiments and observations, will be very slow, if it be not often assisted by t/ie analytic, which proves of excellent use, even though it proceed by a false position ; for that the discovery of a negative is one way of restraining and limiting un affirmative.'''' Change the places of the words analyfc and synthetic in this last sentence ; and the remark coincides exactly with what Boscovich, Hartley, Le Sage, and many other authors, have advanced in favoui of synthetical explanations from hypothet- ical theories. I shall have occasion afterwards to otter some additional sugges- tions in support of their opinion, and to point out the limitations which it seems to require. * Hooke's Post. Works, p. 68. Of the illustrations here promised by Hooke of the utility of the analytical method in geometrical investigations, no traces, as far as I have observed, occur in his writings. And it would appear from t. e following noie by the editor, on the passage last quoted, that nothing important on ihe subject had been discover- ed among his papers. " 1 do not any where find that this was ever done by Dr. Hooke, and leave the usefulness therefore to be considered by the learned." sect. III.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 193 which they may insensibly be betrayed, by a careless employment of indefinite and ambiguous terms. If the task were not ungrateful, it would be easy to produce numer- ous examples of this from writers of the highest and most deserved reputation in the present times. I must not, however, pass over in si- lence the name of Condillac, who has certainly contributed, more than any other individual, to the prevalence ofthe logical errors now under consideration. *' I know well i^says he, on one occasion,) that it is cus- " tomary to distinguish different kinds of analysis; the logical analy- " sis, the metaphysical, and the mathematical; but there is, in fact,on- " ly one analysis; and it is the same iu all the siiences.'** On another occasion, after quoting from the logic of Port Royal a passage in which it is said, '• That analysis and synthesis differ from each other only, as " the road we follow in ascending from the valley to the mountain dif- " fers from the road by which we descend from the mountain into the il valley "—Condillac proceeds thus: "From this comparison, all I " learn is, That the two methods are contrary to one another, and nn- " sequently, that if the one be good, the other must be bad. In truth, •' we cannot proceed otherwise than from the known to the unknown. " Now, if the thing unknown be upon the mountain, it will never be u found by descending into the valley: and if it be in the valley, it will "not be fund by ascending the mountain. There cannot, therefore, " be two contrary roads by which it is to be reached. Such opinions •*: (Condillac adds) do not deserve a more serious criticism."! To this very extraordinary argument, it is unnecessary to offer any reply, after the observations already made on the analysis and synthe- sis ofthe Greek geometers. In the application of these two opposite methods to their respective functions, the theoretical reasoning of Con- dillac is contradicted by the universal experience of mathematicians, both ancient and modern; and is indeed so palpably absurd, as to car- ry along with it its own refutation, to the conviction of every person ca- pable of comprehending the terms ofthe question found Nor would it be more conclusive or more intelligible, if applied to the analysis and syn- thesis of natural philosophers; or indeed to these words, in any ofthe various acceptations in .which they have ever hitherto been understood. As it is affirmed, however, by Condillac, that " there neither is, nor can " be, more than one analysis," a refutation of his reasoning, drawn from any particular science, is, upon his own principle, not less eonclu- sive, than if founded on a detailed examination of the whole circle of human knowledge- I shall content myself, therefore, on the present occasion, with a reference to the mathematical illustrations contained in the former part of this section. With regard to the notion annexed to this word by Condillac himself, I am not certain, if, after all that he has written in explanation of it, I have perfectly seized his meaning. *' To analyze, (he tells us, in the " beginning of his Logic) is nothing more than to observe in a successive " order the qualities of an object, with the view of giving them in the * La Logique, Seconde Partie, Chap. vii. f Ibid. Chap. vi. VOL. II. 25 194 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. ct mind that simultaneous order in which they coexist."* In illus- " tralion of this definition he proceeds to remark, That although ■; with a single glance of tho eye, a person may discover a multi- " tude of objects iu an open champaign which he has previously sur- ■• veyed with attention, yet that the prospect is never more distinct, " than when it is circumscribed within narrow bounds, and only a •• small number of objects is taken in at once. We always discern with " accuracy hut a part of what we see." " The case (he continues) is similar with the intellectual eye. I '• have, at the same moment, present to it, a great number ofthe fami- *' liar objects of my knowledge. I see the whole group, but am unable *• to mark the discriminating qualities of individuals. To comprehend " with distinctness all that offers itself simultaneously to my view, it is '• necessary that I should, in the first place, decompose the nnss;—iu a ** manner analogous to that in which a curious observer would proceed, {l in decomposing, by successive steps, the eo existent paris of a " landscape.—It is necessary for me, in other words, to analyze my '' thoughts."! The same author afterwards endeavours still farther to unfold his no- tion of analysis, by comparing it to the natural procedure of the mud in the examination of a machine. •* If I wish (says >e) to understand " a machine, I decompose it, in order to study separately each of its " parts. As soon as 1 have an exact idea of them all, and am in a con- '* dition to repUv e them as they were formerly, I have a perfect con- " ception of the machine, having both decomposed and recomposed " it »% Iu ail this, I must confess, there seems to me to be much both of vagueness and of confusion. In the two first quotations, the word ana- lysis is employed to denote nothing more than that separation into parts, which is necessary to bring a very extensive or a very complicated »ub- ject within the grasp of our faculties; a description, certainly, which conveys but a very partial and imperfect conception of that analysis which is represented as the great organ of invention iu all the sciences and »rts§ In the example of the machine, C mdillac's language is somewhat more precise and unequivocal; but, when examined with attention, will be found to present an illustration equally foreign to his purpose This is the more surprising, as the instance here appealed to might have been expected to suggest a juster idea of the method in question, than that which resolves into a literal de-composition ai.d ry-composition ofthe thing to be analyzed. That a man may be able to execute both of these manual operations on a machine, Without ac- * La Logique, Premiere Partie, Chap. 2. f La Logique, Premiere Partie, Chap. ii. In this last paragraph, I have intro- duced one or two additional clauses, which seemed to me necessary for convey- ing clearly the author's idea. Those wlio take the trouble to compare it with the or.gmal, will be satisfied, that, in venturing on these slight interpolations, 1 bad no wish to misrepresent Ins opinion. ♦ Ibid. Chap. iii. § Ce qu'on nomme method* d1* invention n'est autre chose que l'analyse C'est elle qui a Uit tout*** lea d€couvertes; c'est par elle que nous retrouverens tout ce qui a 6t« trouve. Ibid. sect. III.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 195 quiring any clear comprehension ofthe manner in which it perforins its work, must appear rtianifest on the slightest reflection; nor is it le.-»s in- disputable, that another person, without disengaging a single wheel, may gain, by a process purely intellectual, a complete knowledge of • the whole contrivance. Indeed, I apprehend, that it is in this way alone that the theory of any complicated machine can be studied ; for it is not the parts, separately considered, but the due combination of these parts, which constitutes the mechanism * An observer, accordingly, of common sagacity, is here guided by the logic of nature, to a species of analysis, bearing as much resemblance (o those of mathematicians and of natural philosophers, as the very different nature ofthe cases ad- mits of. Instead of allowing his eye to wander al large over the per- plexing mazes of such a labyrinth, he begins by remarking the ultimate effect: and thence proceeds to trace backwards, step by step, the series of intermediate movements by which it is connected with the vismotrix. Iu doing so, thete is undoubtedly a sort ofmental decomposition ofthe machine, in as much as all its parts are successively considered in de- tail ; but it is not this decomposition which constitutes the analysis. It is the methodical retrogradation from the mechanical effect to the mechanical power.t The passage in Condillac to which these criticisms refer, are all se- lected from his Treatise on Logic, written purposely to establish his fa- vourite doctrine with respect to the influence of language upon thought. The paradoxical conclusions into which he himself has been led by an unwarrantable use of the words Analysis and Synthesis, is one of the most remarkable instances which the history of modern literature fur- nishes ofthe truth of his general principle. Nor does this observation apply merely to the productions of his more advanced years. In early life, he distinguished himself by an in- genious work, in which he professed to trace analytically the history of our sensations and perceptions; and yet, it has been very justly re- marked of late, that all the reasonings contained in it are purely synthe- tical. \ very eminent mathematician of the present limes has even gone so far as to mention it " as a model of geometrical synthesis .'I * If, on any occasion, a literal decomposition of a machine should be found necessary, it can only be to obtain a view of some of its parts, which, in their com- bined state, are concealed from observation. j- That this circumstance of retrogradation or inversion figured more than any other in the imagination of Pappus, as the characteristical feature of geometrical analysis, appears indisputably f-om a clause already quoted from the prpfa-e to hisTthBook:—Tyv TotxvTqv t^odot xvxXvo-iv xxXovpLtv, oiov xvxirxXt* Xvo'iv. To say, ttieretore, as u.a:iy writers nave done, tnat the analysis of a geo- metrical problem consists in decomposing or resolving it in such a manner as may lead to the discovery ofthe composiiion or synthesis ;— is at once to speak vaguely, and to keep out of view the cardinal principle on which the utility of the method hinges. There is indeed one species of decomposition exemplified in the Greek geometry ;—that which has f r its object to distinguish all the various cases of a general problem , but this part of the investigation was so far from being included bv the ancients in their idea of analysis, that they bestowed upon it an appropri- ate name of i's <>wn :—the three reqtnsi es mme eloignee la ressemblance qui fonde les gene- ralisations superieures, e'est-a-dire, le genre et ses divers degres. M«.is cette definition n'est pas rigoureusement suive. "Quoiqu'il en soit, on concoit des cas, entre lesquels la ressemblance est si parfane, qu'il ne s'y trouve aucune difference sensible, si ce n'est celle du terns et du lieu. Et il est des cas dans lesquels on appercoit beaucoup de ressem- blance, mais ou. I'on decouvre au»s qutiques difTeicnces independantes de la diversity du temps et du lieu. Lor^qiie nous ferons un jugemewt general, fon- de sur la premiere espece de resstmblance, nous dirons que nous usons de la me'thode' d'induction. Lorsque la seconde espece de .csemrd-hce autnrisera nos raisonnemens, nous dirons que c'est de la methode d'analogie que nous faisins usage. On dit ordinairement que la methode d'induction coi'dut du particular au general, et que la methode d'analogie conclut du .semblahle au semblable. Si I'on analyse ces definitions, on verra que n.ius n'avons fait autre chose que leur donner de la precision " (Essais de Philosophic, Tome II p. 20;?.) (see also the reniaiks on induction and analogy in the four following articles of M. PrSvost's works. 198 ELEMENTS OK THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. I\ • This difference ii point of degree (it must at the same time be re- membered) leads, where it is great, to important consequence^. In proportion as the resemblance between two cases diminishes in the pal- pable marks which ihey exhibit to our senses, our inferences from the one to the oth»-r are made with less and less confidence ; and therefore it is perfectly right, that we should reason with more caution from spe- cies to species, than from individual to individual ofthe smne kind. In what follows, accordingly, I shall avail myself of the received distinc- tion between the words expedience and analogy ; a distinction which f have hitherto endeavoured to keepo-it of vie.\, till I should have an op portunily of explaining the precise notion which I annex to it. It would, in truth, be a distinction of important use in our reasonings, if the com- mon arrangements, instead of originating, as they have often done, in ig- norance or caprice, had been really the result of an accurate observation and comparison of particulars. With all the imperfections of these ar- rangements, however, a judicious nqu rer will pay so much regard to prevailing babits of thinking, as to distirguish very si-rtipulously what common language refers to experience from what it refers to analogy, till he has satisfied himself, by a diligent examination, that the distinc- tion has, in the instance before him, no foundation in truth On the other hand, as mankind are much more disposed to confound things which iught to be distinguished, than to distinguish things which are exactli or nearly similar he will be doubly cautious in concluding, that all the knowledge which common language ascribes to experience is equally solid; or that all the conjectures which it places to the account of analogy are equally suspicious. A different idea of the nature of analogy has been given by some writers of note; and it cannot be denied, that, in certain instances, it seems to apply still better than that proposed above. The two ac- counts, however, if accurately analyzed, would be found to appr >ach much more nearly, than they appear to do at first sight; or rather, I am inclined to think, that the one might be resolved into the other, with- out much straining or over refinement. But this is a question chiefly of speculative curiosity, as the general remarks which I have now to offer, will be found to hold with respect to analogy, considered as a ground of philosophical reasoning, in whatever manner the word is defined; provided only it be understood to express some sort of correspondence or affiuily between two subjects, which serves, as a priuciple of associ- ation or of arrangement, to unite them together in the mind. According to Dr. Johnson, (to whose definition 1 allude more particu- larly at present) analogy properly means ua resemblance bi tween " things with regard to some circumstances or effects ; as when learning " is said to enlighten the mind;—that is, to be to the mind what light ia " to the eye, by enabling it to discover that which was hidden before." The statement is expressed with a precision and justness not always to be found in the definitions of this author; and it agrees very nearly with the notion of analogy adopted by Dr. Ferguson,—that " things " which have no resemblance to each other may nevertheless be analo- " gous; analogy consisting in a resemblance or correspondence of rela- " tions."* As an illustration of this, Dr. Ferguson mentions the analo- gy between the fin of a fish and the wing of a bird : the fin bearing the same relation to the water, which the wing does lo the air. This de- ♦ Principles of Moral and Political Science. Vol. I. p. 107. Sect. IV.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 199 finition is more particularly luminous, when applied to the analogies which are the foundation ofthe rhetorical figures of metaph. r and allu- sion ; and it applies also very happily to those which the fancy delights to trace between the material and the intellectual worlds; and which (as I have repeatedly observed,) are so apt to warp the judgment in spe.-ulating concerning the phenomena ofthe human mind. The pleasure which the fancy receives from the contemplation of such correspondences, real or supposed, obviously presupposes a certain dis- parity or contrast in the nature of the two subjects compared ; and, therefore, analogy forms an associating principle, specifically different from resemblance, into whi< h Mr. Hume's theory would lead us to re- solve it. An additional proof of this is furnished by the following con- sideration, That a resemblance of objects or events is perceived by sense, and accordingly has some effect even on the lower animals; a cor- respondence (or, as it is frequently called, a resemblance) of relations, is not the object of sense, but of intellect, and consequently, the percep- tion of it implies the exercise cf reason. Notwithstanding, however, the radical distinction between the notions expressed by the words resemblance arid analogy, they may often ap- proach very nearly to each other in their meaning; and cases may even be conceived >n which they exactly agree. In proof of this, it is suffi- cient to remark, that in objects, the parts of which respectively exhibit that correspondence which is usually distinguished by the epithet analo- gous, this correspondence always deviates, less or more, from an exact conformity or identity; in so much, that it sometimes requires a good deal of consideration to trace in detail the parallel circumstances, under the disguises which they borrow from their diversified combinations. An obvious instance of this occurs when we attempt to compare the bones and joints iu the leg and foot of a man with those in the leg and foot of a horse. Were the correspondence in all the relations perfectly exact, the resemblance between the two objects would be manifest even to sense ; in the very same manner that, in geometry, the similitude of two triangles is a necessary ; onsequeuce of a precise correspondence in the relations of their homologous sides.* This last observation may serve, in some measure, to justify an asser- tion which was already hazarded,—That the two definitions of analogy formerly mentioned, are very nearly allied to each other; in as much as it shows, by a more careful analysis than has commonly been applied to this subject, tha the sensible dissimilitude between things of different species arises chiefly from the want of a palpable conformity in the rela- tions of their constituent parts. Conceive that more remote correspond- ence which reason or .fancy traces between the parts ofthe one and the parts of the other gradually to approach, nearer and nearer, to the same standard ; and it is evideni, that, in the course of the approximation, you will arrive at that degree of manifest resemblance, which will bring them under the same generic name ; till at last, by continuing this pro- cess ofthe imagination, the one will become a correct picture or image ofthe other, not only iu its great outlines, but in its minutest details. From this view of the subject, too, as well as from the former, it ap- pears how vague and ill-defined the metaphysical limits are which sepa- rate the evidence of analogy from that of experience; and how much * See note (Q.J 200 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY diap. IV. room is left for the operation of good sense, and of habits of scientific research, in appreciating the justness of that authority which, in parti- cular instances, ihe popular forms of speech may assign to either. The illustrations winch I have to offer of this last remark, in so far as it relates to experience, may, I think, be introduced more usefully after- wards; but the vague conceptions which are generally annexed to the word analogy, together with the prevailing prejudices against it, as a ground of philosophical reasoning, rend°r it proper for me, before pro- ceeding any farther, to attempt the-correction of some popular mistakes connected with the use of this obnoxious term. It is not necessary, for the purposes whii h I have at present in view, to investigate very curiously the principles which, in Ihe first instance, dispose the mind to indulge in analogical conjectures from the known to the unknown. It is sufficient to observe, that this disposition, so far from being checked, receives additional encouragement from habits of philosophical study :—the natural tendencv of these habits being only to guide it into the right path, and to teach it to proceed cautiously, accord- ing to certain general rules, warran'ed by experience. The encouragement which philosophical pursuits give to this natural disposition, arises chiefly from the innumerable proofs they afford of that systematical unity and harmony of design which are every where con- spicuous in the universe. On this unity of design is founded the most solid argument which the light of reason supplies for the unity of Cod ; but the knowledge of the general fact on which that argument proceeds is not confined to the student of theology. It forces itself irresistibly on the thoughts of all who are familiarly conversant with the phenomena, either of the material or of the moral world; and is recognised as a principle of reasoning, even by those who pay little or no attention to its most sublime and important application. It is well known to all who have the slightest acquaintance with the history of medicine, that the anatomical knowledge ofthe ancients was derived almost entirely from analogical conjectures, founded on the dis- section ofthe lower animals;* and that, in consequence of this, many * "If we read the works of Hippocrates with impartiality, and apply his accounts of the parts to what we now know of the human body, we must allow his descriptions to be imperfect, incorrect, some' imes extravagant, and often un- intelligible, that of the bones only excepted. He seems to have :»t"idied these with more success than the other parts, and tells u->, that he bad an opportunity of seeing a human skeleton.''...... "Erasistratus and Herophilus, two distinguished anatomists at Alexandria, were probably the first who were authorised to dissect human bodies. Their voluminous works are all lost; but they are quoted by Galen, almost in every page" . . . " What Galen principally wanted was opportunities of dissecting human bodies : for his subject was most commonly some quadruped, whose structure was sup- posed to come nearest to the human." ...... " About the year 1540, the great Vesalius appeared. He was equally laborious in reading the ancients, and in dissecting bodies ; and in making the comparison, he could not but see, that many of Galen's descriptions were erroneous.—The spirit of opposition and emulation was presently roused, and many of his contem- poraries endeavoured to defend Galen at the expense of Vesalius. In their dis- putes they made their appeals to the human body; and thus iu a few years our art was greatly improved. And Vesalius being detected in the very fault which he condemns in Galen, to wit, describing from the dissection of brutes, and not Sect. IV.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 201 misrepresentations of facts and many erroneous theories (blended, how- ever, with various important truths,) were transmitted to the physiolo- gists of modern Europe. What is the legitimate inference to be deduced from these premises ? Not, surely, that analogy is an organ of no use in the study of nature; but that, although it may furnish a rational ground of conjecture and inquiry, it ought not lo be received as direct evidence, where the fact itself lies open to examination ; and lhat the conclusions to which it leads ought, in every case, to be distrusted, in proportion as the subjects compared depart from an exact coincidence in all their circumstances. A? our knowledge of nature enlarges, we gradually learn to combine the presumptions arising from analogy, with other general principles by Which they are limited and corrected. In comparing, for example, the anatomy of different tribes of animals, we invariably find, thai the dif- ferences in their structure have a reference to their way of life, and to the habits for which they are destined ; so that, from knowing the lat- ter, we might be able, on some occasions, to frame conjectures a priori concerning the former. It is thus, that the form of the teeth, together with the length and capacity ofthe intestines, vary in different species, according to the quality of the food on which the animal is to subsist. Similar remarks have been made on the different situation and disposition ofthe mammae, according as the animal is uniparous, or produces many at a birth ;—on the structure and direction ofthe external ear, accord- ing as the animal is rapacious, or depends for security on his speed ;-— on the mechanism ofthe pupil of the eye, according as the animal has to search for his food by day or by night,—and on various other organs in the bodily economy, when compared with the functions which they are intended to perform. If, without attending to circumstances of this sort, a person should reason confidently from the anatomy of one species to that of another, it cannot be justly said, that analogy is a deceitful guide, but that he does not know how to apply analogy to its proper purpose. In truth, the very consideration which gives to the argument from analogy its chief force, points here manifestly to the necessity of some modification of the original conclusion, suited to the diversity of the case to which it is to be applied. It is remarked by Cuvier, that " a canine tooth, adapted to tear flesh, "was never found combined, in the same animal, with a hoot, fit for sup-* w porting the weight ofthe body, but totally useless as a weapon to a " beast of prey."—' Hence, (he observes) the rule that every hoofed " animal is herbivarous ;—and hence (as corollaries from this general " principle) the maxims, that a hoofed foot indicates grinding teeth with " flat surfaces, a long alimentary canal, a large stomach, and often more " stomachs than one, with many other similar consequences. " The laws which regulate the relations between d.fferent systems " of organs, (continues this very ingenious and sound philosopher,) have " the same influence on the different parts of the same system, and " connect together its different modifications, by the same necessary ofthe human body, it exposed so fully that blunder of the old anatomists, that, in succeeding times, there has been little reason for such complaint. Introductory Lectures, delivered by Dr. William Hunter to his last course of anatomy, (London, 1784.) pp. 13, 19, 25,40. Vol. ii. 26 202 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. " principles. In the alimentary system, especially, where the parts are " large and numerous, these rules have their most striking applications. " The form ofthe teeth, the length, the convolutions, the dilatations of ** the alimentary canal, the number and abundance of the gastric li- " quors. are in the most exact adaption to one another, and have simi- (l lar fixed relations to the chemical composition, to the solid aggrega- " tion, and to the solubility of the aliment; in so much that, from 6ee- " ing one ofthe parts by itself, an experienced observer could form con- " elusions tolerably accurate, with respect to the conformation ofthe '•' other parts ofthe same system, and might even hazard more than ran- " dom conjectures with respect to the organs of other functions. " The same harmony subsists among the different parts of the system " of organs of motion. As all the parts of this system act mutually, and u are acted upon, especially when the whole body of the animal is in " motion, the forms of all the different parts are strictly related. There " i* hardly a hone that can vary in its surfaces, in its curvatures, in its u protuberances, without corresponding variations in.other bones ; and " in this way, a skilful naturalist, from the appearance of a single bone, '* will be often able to conclude, to a certain extent, with respect to the " form of the whole skeleton to which it belonged. " These laws of co-existence (Cuvier adds) which have just been in- " dicated, are deduced by reasoning from our knowledge of the recipro- " cal influence ofthe functions, and of the use ofthe different organs of " the body. Having confirmed them by observation, we are enabled, " in other circumstances, to follow a contrary route ; and, when we dis- '' cover constant relations of fjprm between particular organs, we may i( safely conclude, that they exercise some action upon one another; and " we may thus be frequently led to form just conjectures with respect to " their uses.—It is, indeed, chiefly from the attentive study of these " relations, and from the discovery of relations which have hitherto " escaped our notice, that physiology has reason to hope for the ex- " tension of her limits; and accordingly the comparative anatomy (< of animals is to her one of the most fruitful sources of valuable dis- " covery."* Trie genera) result of these excellent observations is, that the im- provement of physiology is to be expected chiefly from lights furnished by analogy; but that, in order to follow this guide with safety, a cau- tious and refined logic is still more necessary than in conducting those reasonings which rest on the direct evidence of experience. When the ancient anatomists, without amy examination of the facts within their rea'-h, or any consideration ofthe peculiar functions likely to be con- nected with man's erect form and rational faculties, drew inferences con- cerning his internal frame, merely from the structure of the quadru- peds ; the errors into which they fell,—so far from affording any solid argument against the use of analogy when judiciously employed,—have only pointed out to their successors, the necessity of a more discrimin- ating and enlightened application of it in future; and have ultimately * See the Introduction to the Legons iPAnatomie comparte de G. Cuvier. The above translation is taken from a very interesting tract, entitled, An Introduction to the Study of the Animal Economy. (Edinburgh, 1801.) Sect. IV.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 203 led to the discovery of those comprehensive Laws of the Animal Econo- my, which, by reconciling apparent anomolies with the consistency and harmony of one grand design, open, at every successive step of our progress, more enlarged and pleasing views of the beneficent wisdom of Nature. This speculation might be carried farther, by extending it to the va- rious analogies which exist between the Animal and the Vegetable king- doms, contrasted with those characteristical peculiarities by which they are respectively adapted to the purposes for which they are destined__- It is, however, of more consequence, on the present occasion, to turn our attention to the analogies observable among many ofthe physical processes by which different effects are accomplished, or different phe- nomena produced, in the system of inanimate and unorganized matter. Ofthe existence of such analogies a satisfactory proof may be derived, from the acknowledged tendency of philosophical habits and scientific pursuits, to familiarize the mind with the order of nature, and to im- prove its penetration in anticipating future discoveries. A man con- versant with physics and chemistry is much more likely than a stranger to these studies to form probable conjectures concerning those laws of nature which still remain to be examined. There is a certain character or style (if I may use the expression) in the operations of Divine Wis- dom ;—something which every where announces, amidst an infinite va- riety of detail, an inimitable unity and harmony of design ; and in the perception of which philosophical sagacity and genius seem chiefly to consist. It is this which bestows a value so inestimable on the Queries of Newton.* This view of the numberless analogies displayed in that part of the universe which falls under our immediate notice, becomes more particu- larly impressive, when it is considered, that the same unity of design may be distinctly traced, as far as the physical researches of astrono- mers have extended. In the knowledge of this fact, we possess im- portant moral lights, for which we are entirely indebted to the Newto- nian school; the universal creed of antiquity having assumed as a prin- ciple, that the celestial phenomena are, in their nature and laws, essen- tially different from the terrestrial. The Persia" Magi, indeed, are said to have laid down, as one oftheir maxims,—Tvpt,7rx6v tivxi rx xv*> roi% xxtu ;—but that no maxim could stand in more direct opposition to the tenets of the Grecian philosophers, appears sufficiently from the ♦How very deeply Newton's mind was impressed with those ideas of analogy which I have here ventured to ascribe to him, appears from his own words.— " Have not the small particles of bodies certain powers, virtues, or forces, by which they act at a distance, not only upon the rays of light for reflecting, re- fracting, and inflecting them, but also upon one another, for producing a great part of the phenomena of nature ? For it is well known that bodies act one upon another, by the attractions of gravity, magnetism and electricity ; and these in- stances shew the tenor and course of nature, and make it not improbable but that there may be more attractive powers than these. For nature is very consonant and conform- able to herself" See the 31st Query, at the end of his Optics. In a subsequent part of this Query, he recurs to the same principle. " And thus Nature will be very conformable to herself and very simple ; performing all tbe great motions of the heavenly bodies by the attraction of gravity which intercedes those bodies ; and almost all the small ones of their particles, by some other at- tractive and repelling powers, which intercede the particles," 204 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. general strain of their physical and astronomical theories. The modern discoveries have shown, with demonstrative evidence, how widely, iu this fundamental assumption, these philosophers erred from the truth ; and, indeed, it was a conjecture a priori, originating in some degree ol scepticism with respect to it, that led the way lo ihe doctrine of gravi- tation. Fvery subsequent step which has been gained in astronomical science has tended more and more to illustrate the sagacity of ihose views by which Newton was guided to this fortunate anticipation ol the truth ; as well as to conform, upon a scale which continually grows iu its magnitude, the ju-tness of lhat magnificent conception of uniform design, which emboldened him to connect the physics ofthe Earth witb the hitherto unexplored mysteries ofthe Heavens. Instru tive and interesting, however, as these physical speculations may be, it is still more pleasing to trace the uniformity of design which is displayed in the economy of sensitive beings ; to compare the arts of human life with the instincts of the bruies, and the instincts of the dif- ferent tribes of brutes with each other ; and to remark, amidst the as- tonishing variety of means which are employed to accomplish the sann; ends, a certain analogy characterize them all;—or to observe, in the minds of different individuals of our own species, the workings of the same affections and passion*, manifesting, among men of every age and every country, the kindred features of humanity. It is this which gives the great charm to what we call Nature in epic and dramatic composi- tion,—when the poet sp-aks a language "to which every heart is an " ech"," and which, amidst the manifold effects of education and fash- ion, in modifying and disguising the principles of our constitution, re- minds all the various classes of readers or of spectators, of the existence of those moral ties which unite them to eaeh other, and to their com- mon parent.* Nor is it only in the material and moral worlds, when considered as separate and independent systems, that this unity of design is percepti- ble. They mutually bear t'» each other numberless relations, which are mor- particularly remarkable when we consider both, in their com- bined tendencies with respect to human happiness and improvement.— There is also a more general analogy, which these two grand depart- ments of nature exhi' it, in the laws by which their phenomena are re- gulated, and a consequent analogy between the methods of investiga- tion peculiarly applicable to each. I have already repeatedly taken no- tice ofthe erroneous conclusions to which we are liable, when we rea- son directly from the one to the other ; or substitute the fanciful analo- gies between them, which language occasionally suggests, as a philo- sophical explanation ofthe phenomena of either. But it does not fol- low from this, that there is no analogy between the rules of inquir., ac- cording to which they are to be studied On the contrary, it is from the principles cf inductive philosophizing, which are applicable to both in common, that we infer the necessity of resting our conclusions in each, upon its own appropriate phenomena. I shall only add, to what has been now stated on the head of analo- gy, that the numberless references and dependencies between the mate- rial and the moral worlds, exhibited within the narrow sphere of our * Outlines of Moral Philosophy, pp. 198,199. 3d edit. SCCt. IV.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 205 observation on this globe, encourage and even authorize us to conclude, that they both form parts of one and the same plan :—a conclusion con- genial to the best and noblest principles of our nature, and which all the discoveries of genuine science unite in confirming. Nothing, in- deed, could be more inconsistent with that irresistible disposition which prompts every philosophical inquirer to argue from the known to the unknown, than to suppose that, while all the different bodies which compose the material universe are manifestly related to each Other, as parts of a connected whole, the moral events which happen on our pla- net are quite insulated ; and that the rational beings who inhabit it, and for whom we may reasonably presume it was brought into existence^ have no relation whatever to other intelligent and moral natures. The presumption unquestionably is, that there is one gr<**at moral system, cor- responding to the material system ; and that the connexions which we at present trace so distinctly among the sensible objects composing the one, are exhibited as so many intimations of some vast scheme, com- prehending all the intelligent beings who compose the other. In this argument, as well as in numberless others which analogy suggests in fa- vour of our future prospects, the evidence is precisely ofthe same sort with that, which first encouraged Newton to extend his physical specu- lations beyond the limits of the Earth. The sole difference is, that he had an opportunity of verifying the results of his conjectures by an ap- peal to sensible facts : but this accidental circumstance (although it certainly affords peculiar satisfaction and conviction to the astronomer's mind) does not affect the grounds on which the conjecture was origin- ally formed, and only furnishes an experimental proof of the justness of the principles on which it proceeded. Were it not. however, for the palpable confirmation thus obtained ofthe Theory of Gravity, it would be difficult to vindicate against the charge of presumption, the mathe- matical accuracy, with which the Newtonians pretend to compute the motions, distances, and magnitudes of worlds, apparently so far remov- ed beyond the examination of our faculties.* • " I know no author (says Dr. Reid) who has made a more just and a more happy use of analogical reasoning, than Bishop Butler, in his analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature. In that excel- lent work, the author does not ground any of the truths of religion upon Analo- gy, as their proper evidence. He only makes use of Analogy, to answer objections against them. When objections are made against the truths of religion, which may be made with equal strength against what we know to be true in the course of nature, such objections can have no weight." (Essays on the Intell. Powers. p. 54. To the same purpose it is observed by Dr. Campbell, that "analogical evidence is generally more successful in silencing objections than in evincing truth.— Though it rarely refutes, it frequently repels refutation ; like those weapons which, though they cannot kill an enemy, will ward his blows." Phil, of Rhet. Vol. I. This estimate of the force of analogical reasoning, considered as a weapon of controversy, is discriminating and judicious. The occasion on which the logi- cian wields it to the best advantage is, undoubtedly, in repelling the objections of an adversary. But after the foregoing observations, I may be permitted to express my doubts, whether both of these ingenious writers have not somewhat underra- ted the importance of analogy as a medium of proof, and as a source of new in- formation.—I acknowledge, at the same time, that between the positive and the negative applications of this species of evidence, there is an essential difference. 206 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. The foregoing observations have a close connexion with some rea- sonings hereafter to be offered in defence ofthe doctrine of final causes. They also throw additional light on what was remarked in a former chapter concerning the unity of truth ;—a most important fact in the theory ofthe human mind, aud a fact which must strike every candid inquirer with increasing evidence, in proportion to the progress which he makes iu the interpretation of Nature. Hence the effect of philo- sophical habits in animating the curiosity and in guiding the inventive powers; and hence the growing confidence which they inspire iu the ever consistent and harmonious conclusions of inductive science. It is chiefly (as Bacon has observed) from partial and desultory researches that scepticism arises ; not only as such researches suggest doubts which a more enlarged acquaintance with the universe would dispel, but as they withdraw the attention from those comprehensive views which combine into a symmetrical fabric—all whose parts mutually lend to each other support and stability—the most remote, and seemingly the most unconnected discoveries. " Etenim symmetria scientiae, singulis " scilicet partibus se invicem sustinentibus, est, et esse debet, vera atque " expedita ratio refellendi objectiones minorum gentium : Contra, si " singula axiomata, tanquam baculos fascis seorsim extrahas, facile erit " ea infirmare, et pro libito, aut flectere, aut frangere. Nuni non in aula " spatiosa consultius foret, unum accendere cereum, aut lychnuchuin " suspendere, variis luminibus instructum, quo omnia simul perlusiren- " tur, quam in singulos angulos quaquaversus exiguam circumferre lu " cernam ?"* II. Use and Abuse of Hypotheses in Philosophical Inquiries.—Difference between Gratuitous Hypotheses, and those which are supported by presumptions sug- gested by Analogy.—Indirect Evidence which a Hypothesis may derive from its agreement with the Phenomena.—Cautions against extending some of these con- clusions to the Philosophy ofthe Human Mind. As some ofthe reasonings in the former part of this Section may, at first sight, appear more favourable to the use of Hypotheses than is consistent with the severe rules of the Inductive Logic, il may not be superfluous to guard against any such misapprehensions of my mean- iug*< by subjoining a few miscellaneous remarks aud illustrations. The indiscriminate zeal against hypotheses, so generally avowed at present by the professed followers of Bacon, has been much encouraged by the strong and decided terms in which, on various occasions, they When employed to refute an objection, it may often furnish an argument irresisti- bly and unanswerably convincing: when employed as a medium of proof, it can never authorize more than a probable conjecture, inviting and encouraging farther examination. In some instances, however, the probability resulting from a con. currence of different analogies may rise so high, as to produce an effect on the be- lief scarcely distinguishable from moral certainty. * De Augment. Scient. Lib. i. Sect. IV.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 207 are reprobated by Newton.* But the language of this great man, when he happens to touch upon logical questions, must not always be too lite- rally interpreted. It must be qualified and limited, so as to accord with the exemplifications which he himself has given of his general rules.-- Of the truth of this remark, the passages now alluded to afford a satis- factory proof; for, while they are expressed in the most unconditional and absolute terms, so many exceptions to them occur in his own wri- tings, as to authorize the conclusion, that he expected his readers would of Themselves be able to supply the obvious and necessary comments.-— It is probable that, in these passages, he' had more particularly in his eye the Vortices of Des Cartes. " The votaries of hypotheses (says Dr. Reid) have often been chal- " lenged to shew one useful discovery in the works of nature that was " ever made in that way."t In reply to this challenge, it is sufficient, on the present occasion to mention the theory of Gravitation, and the Copernican system.t Of the former, we have the testimony of Dr. Pemberton, that it took its first rise from a conjecture or hypothesis suggested by analogy ; nor indeed could it be considered in any other light, till that period in Newton's life, when, by a calculation founded on the accurate measurement of the earth, by Picard, he evinced the coincidence between the law which regulates the fall of heavy bodies, and the power which retains the Moon in her orbit. The Copernican system, however, furnishes a case still stronger, and still more directly applicable to our purpose; in as much as the only evidence which the author was able to offer in its favour, was the advantage which it pos- sessed over every other hypothesis in explaining, with simplicity and beauty, all the phenomena of the heavens. In the mind of Coperni- cus, therefore, this system was nothing more than a hypothesis ;—but it was a hypothesis conformable to the universal analogy of nature, al- ways accomplishing her ends by the simplest means. " C'est pour la " simplicity (says Bailly) que Coperuic replaca le soleil au centre du " monde; c'est pour elle que Kepler va detruire tous les epicycles que " Copernic avoit laisses subsister: peu de principes, de grands moyens " en petit nombre, des phemomenes infinis et varies, voila le tableau de " l'univers.'*§ * '« Hypotheses non fingo. Quicquid enim ex phenomenis non deducitur hypo- thesis vocanda est, et hypotheses, seu metaphysicae, seu physicae, seu qualitatum occultarum, seu mechamcae, in philosophia experimental'! locum non habent." See the general Scholium at the end of the Principia. ■j- Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, p. 88, 4to edit. In another part of the same volume, the following assertion occurs. " Of all the discoveries that have been made concerning the inward structure of the human body, never one was made by conjecture. The same thing may be said, with justice, of every other part of the works of God, wherein any real discovery has been made. Such dis- coveries have always been made by patient observation, by accurate experiments, or by conclusions drawn by strict reasoning from observations and experiments ; and such discoveries have always tended to refute, but not to confirm, the theories and hypotheses which ingenious men had invented." Ibid. p. 49. \ See Note (R.) § Histoire de PAstronomie Moderne, Tome II. p. 2. From this anticipation of simplicity in the laws of nature (a logical principle 208 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. l\. According to this view of the subject, the confidence which we re- pose in Analogy rests ultimately on the evidence of experience; and hence, an additional argument in favour ofthe former method of inves- tigation, when cautiously followed ; as well as an additional proof of the imperceptible shades by which Experience and Analogy run into each other. N'T is the utility of hypothetical theories confined to those cases in which they have been confirmed by subsequent researches : it may be equally great, where they have completely disappointed the expecta- tions oftheir authors. Nothing, I think, can be juster than Hartley's remark, that ''any hypothesis which possesses a sufficient degree of ** plausibility to account for a number of facts, helps us to digest these '.' facts in proper order, to bring new ones to light, and to make experi- " menta crucis for the sake of future inquirers."* Indeed, it has pro- bably been in this way, that most discoveries have been made ; for al- though a knowledge of facts must be prior to the formation of a legiti- mate theory; yet a hypothetical theory is generally the best guide lo the knowledge of connected and of useful facts. The first conception of a hypothetical theory, it must always be remem- bered, (if the theory possesses any plausibility whatever) presupposes a general acquaintance with the phenomena which it aims to account for; not less universally recognized among ancient than among modern philosophers,) Bailly has drawn an argument in support of his favourite hypothesis concerning the origin of the sciences. His words are these : " Ea simplicitc n'est pas essen- tiellement un principe, un axiome, c'est le resultat des travaux ; ce n'est pas une indfe de l'enfance du monde, elle appartient a la maturity des hommes ; c'est la plus grande des verites que l'observation constanle arrachc a l'illusion des ed- icts : ce ne peut etre qu'un reste de la science primitive. Lor&que chez un peu- ple, possesseur d'une mythologie compliquee, et qui n'a d'autre physique que ces fables, les philosophes, voulant reduire la nature a un seul principe, annonce- ronl que l'eau est la source de toutes choses, ou le feu l'agent universel, nous di- rons a ces philosophes : vous parlez une langue qui n'est pas la votre ; vous avez ^.aisi par un instinct philosuphique ces Veritas audessus de votre siecle, de votre nation, et de vous-memes ; c'est la sagesse des anciens qui vous a e.'e transmise par tradition."—Sic. &c. Sec.—Ibid. p. 4. To the general remark which introduces tiiis passage I readily subscribe. The confidence with which philosophers anticipate the simplicity of Nature's laws is unquestionably the result of experience, and of experience alone; and implies a far more extensive knowledge of her operations than can be expected from tbe uninformed multitude. The inferrence, however, deduced from this, by the inge- nious and eloquent, but sometimes too fanciful historian, is not a little precipitate. The passion for excessive simplification, so remarkably exemplified in ihe physical systems of the Greeks, seems to be sufficiently accounted for by their scanty stock of facts, combined with that ambition to explain every thing from the smallest possible number of data, which, in all ages of the world, has been one of the most common infirmities of genius. On the other hand, the principle in question, when stated in the form of a proposition, is of so abstract and metaphysical a nature, that it is highly improbable it should have survived the shock of revolutions which had proved fatal to the memory of particular discoveries. The arts, it has been frequently observed, are more easily transmitted by mere tradition, from one gene- ration to another, than the speculative sciences j and, for a similar reason, phy- sical systems are far less likely to sink into oblivion, than ab'tract maxims, which have no immediate reference to objects of sense, or to the ordinary concerns of life. • Observations on Man, Chap. i. Prop. v. Sect, IV.J OP THE HUMAN MIND. 209 and it is hy reasoning synthetically from the hypothesis, and comparing the deductions with observation and experiment, that the cautious in- quirer is gradually led, either to correct it in such a manner as to recon- cile it with facts, or finally to abandon it as an unfounded conjecture.— Even in this latter case, an approach is made to the truth in the way of exclusion; while, at the same time, an accession is gained to that class of associated and kindred phenomena, whieh it is his object to trace to their parent stock.''* In thus apologizing for the use of hypotheses, I only repeat in a dif- ferent form the precepts of Bacon, and the comments of some of his most enlightened followers. " The prejudice against hypotheses u which many people entertain, (says the late Dr. Gregory) is founded " on the equivocal signification of a word. It is commonly confound- " ed with theory :—but a hypothesis properly means the supposition of " a principle, of whose existence the e is no proof from experience, " but which may be rendered more or less probable by facts which are " neither numerous enough, nor adequate to infer its existence. When " such hypotheses are proposed in the modest and diffident manner that '{ becomes mere suppositions or conjectures, they are not only harmless, *' but even necessary for establishing a just theory. They are the first u tudiments or anticipations of Principles Without these, there could u not be useful observation, nor experiment, nor arrangement, because " there could be no motive or principle in the mind to form them. Hy- "• p>>theses then only become dangerous a>id Centura >ie, when they are u imposed on us for just principles; because, in that case, they put a " stop to further inquiry, by Ieadn•■.?• the mi'id to acquiesce in principles " which may as probably be ill a> well founded-"*!* Another eminent writer has apoio. z> d very ingeniously, and I think very philosophically, lor the hypothess and conjectures which are oc- casionally to be found in his o.vnw the consequences deduced from them appear, upon " examination* by trials and designed observations lo he confirmed by '*• fact or effVet. So that the effect is that which consummates the demon- " Mratiou ofthe invention: and the theory is only an assi.slant to direct '* such an inquisition, as may procure the demonstration of its existence '• or .ion-exi.-tence t As au llustration of this last remark, Hooke mentions his anticipation of Jupiter's m^t-ou u on his axis, lonjr before he was able by means of a good telescope, to atceit.iin the fact. A much more remarkable in- stance, however, of his philosophical sagn'-ily, occurs in his anticipation of that theory of the planetary ui< tions, whi-h, so^n alter, was to present itself, with in reased and at length demonstrative evidence, to a still more inventive and poweifu! rnind. This conjecture (whi< h I shall state in his own words,) aff- rds, of itself, a decisive reply to the undis- tiuguishiiig censures which have so often been beslcwed on the pre- sumptuous vanity of attempting, by means of hypotheses, to penetrate into the secrets of nature. " I will explain (says Hooke, in a communication to the Royal Socie- *; ty in 1666) a system of Ihe world very different from any yet received. " It is founded on the three followii £ petitions. " 1 That all the heavenly bodies have not only a gravitation of their " parts 10 their ow.-i proper centre, but that they also mutually attract •' each other within their spheres of action. •'2. That all bodies having a simple motion, will continue to move in ** a straight line, unless continually deflected from it by some txtraneous ♦ Hooke's Posthumous Works, p. 280. ; Ibid. p. 537. For another extract from the same work, set note (S.) Sect. IV."] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 211 " force, causing them to describe a circle, an ell'pse, Or some other u curve. " 3. That this attraction is so much the greater as the bodies are 16 nearer. As to the proportion in which those forces diminish by an 4< in rease of distance, I own I have not discovered it, although I have *" made some experiments to this purpose. I leave this to others, who u have time and knowledge sufficient for the task " The argument in favour of Hypotheses might be pushed much farther, by considering the tentative or hypothetical steps by which the most cau- tious philosophers are often under the necessity of proceeding, in con- ducting inquiries strictly experimental. These cannot be better describ- ed than ii. the words of Boscovi h, the slightest of whose logical hints are entitled to peculiar attention.— ation of hy potheses i* may be added, lhat some of the reasonings which, uith propriety, were urged against them a century ago. have already, in consequence of the rapid progress of knowledge, lost much oftheir force It is very justly remarked by M. Prevost, lhat 'at a period when science has advanced so far as to have u accumulated an immen-e treasure of facts, the danger of hypotheses " is less, and their advantages greater, than in times of compatalive i«-- " norance.'' For this he assigns three reasons. '■ 1. The multitude of " facts restrains Imagination, by presetting, in every directi-m. obsta- cles to her wanderings; and, by overturning her fiail edifices. 2. " In proportion as facts multiply, the m-mury -lands in greater need of * Melanges de Literature, &c. Tome V. * 6. ("entitled EJaircissement »ur cs qui a eie dit, &c. de Tart de conjectuicr.) t Accordingly, in another part of the san.e article, he ' us said " L'analogie, e'est-a-dne, la ressemblance plus ou n.o.i.s grande des fin's, le rapport plus ou moms sensible qn'ds out entr'tux, est I'umque rec-le des physicem., boil pbur ex- pliqner les fails connus, soil pour en decouvn; de nouveaux'' sect, iv.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 215 " the aid of connecting or associating principles.* 3. The chance of " discovering interesting and luminous relations among the objects of " our knowledge increases with the growing number of the objects " compared."t—The considerations already stated suggest a 4th rea- son in confirmation of the same general proposition:—That, by the exfension of human knowledge, the scale upon which the Analogies of Nuture may be studied, is so augmented as to strike the most heedless eye; while by its diffusion, the perception of these analogies (so es- sential an elem nt in the composition off ventiv- geitiu-) is insensibly conununicat d to all who enjoy the advantages of a liberal education. Justly, therefore, mght Bacon say, " Certo sciant homines, artes inve- " niendi olidas et veras a dolescere et incrementa sumere cum ipsis in- " v«Hitis." But although f do not think that Reid has been successful in his at- tempt to refute Hartley's argument, I am far from considering that ar- gument as sound or conclusive. My chief objections to it arc the two following. 1. The cases compared are by no means parallel. In that of the cypher, we have all the facts b» f .re us; and, if the key explains them, we may be certain, that nothing can directly contradict the justness of our interpretation. In „ur physical researches, on the other hand, we are admitted to see only a few detached sentences extracted from a volume, of the siz» of which we are entirely ignorant. No hypothesis, therefore, how numerous soever the facts may be with which it tallies, can com- pletely exclude the possibility of exceptions or limitations hitherto undiscovered. It must at the same time, be granted, that the probability of a hypo- thesis increases in proportion to the number of phenomena for wlii'-h it accounts, and to the simp'icily ofthe theory by ivhi.h it explains them ;—and that, in some instances, this probability may amount to a moral certainty. The most remarkable example of this which occurs in the history of science is, undoubtedly, the Copernican sy-lem. I before observed, that at the period when it was fi*st proposed, it was nothing more than a hypothesis; and that its only proof rested on its conformity, in point of simplicity, to the general economy of the Universe. " VVhen Co- " pernicus (says Mr. Maclauriu) considered the form, disposition, and " motions of the system, as they were then represented after Ptolemy, « he found the whole void of order, symmetry, and proportion ; like a " piece (as he expres es himself) made up of parts copied from different " originals, which, not filling each other, should rather represent a mon- 11 ster than a man. He therefore perused the writings of the ancient phi- " losophers, to see whether any more rational account had ever been " proposed ofthe motions of the Heavens. The first hint he had was " from Cicero, who tells us, in his Academical Questions, that Ni; etas, " a Syracusiau. had taught that, the earth turns round on its axis, which " made the whole heavens appear to a spectator on the earth to turn «** round it daily. Afterwards, from Plutarch he found, that Philolaus * With respect to the utility of hypothetical theories, as adminicles to the na- tural powers of memory, see the former volume of this work, Chapter vi. Sec- tions 3 andV<£. ■J- See note (X.) 21b" ELFMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [cfutp. IV. ** the Pythagorean had taught that the enrlh moved annually round the " sun. lie immediately perceived, that, by allowing these two motions, " all the perplexity, disorde*, and confusion he had complained .1 in the ■' celestial motions vanished; and thai, tn>tead of these, a simple regu- " lar disposition of the orbits, and a harmony of the motions appeared, *' worthy ofthe great Author of the world.'** Of the truth of this hypothesis, the discoveries of the last century have afforded many new proofs of a direct aud even demonstrative nature; and yet, it may be faMy questioned, whether to Copernicus and Galileo, the analogical reasoning -taled in the preceding quotation, did not, of itself, appear so conclusive, as to supercede the necessity of any farther evidence- The e cleMastical persecutions which the latter encountered in defence of his supposed heresy, sufficiently evinces the faith which he reposed iu hi- astronomical creed- It is, however, extivmely worthy of remark, with respect to the Co- pernican system, that it affords no illustration whatever of the justness of '*'art ley's logical maxim. The Ptolemaic system was not demon- strably inconsistent with any phenomena known in the sixteenth centu- ry; and, consequently, ihe presumption for the new hypothesis did not arise from its exclusive coincidence with the fa. ts, but from the simpli- city and beauty which it possessed as a theory. The inference to be deduced from it is therefore, not in favour of hypotheses in general, but of'lypotie-es sanctioned by analogy. The fortunate hypothesis of a King encircling the body of Saturn, by which Huygheus accounted, in a maimer equally simple and satis acto- ry,fora set of appearances which, for forty years, had puzzled all the astronomers of Europe, bears, iu all its circumstances, a closer resem- blance than any other instance I know of, to the key of a cypher. Of its truh it is impossible for the most sceptical mind to entertain any doubt, when it is considered, that it not only enabled Huygheus to ex- plain all the known phenomena, but to predict those which were after- wards to be observed. This instance, accordingly, has had much stress laid upon it by different write s, particularly Gravesande and Le Sage.t I must own, 1 am somewhat doubtful, if the discovery of a key to so limited and insulated a class of optical facts, authorizes any valid argu- ment for the employment of mere hypotheses, to decypher the compli- cated phenomena resulting from the general laws of nature. It is, in- deed, an example mo-l ingeniously and happily selected ; but would not perhaps have been so often resorted to, if il had been easy to find others of a similar description. • Account of Newton's Philosophical Discoveries, p. 45 (2d edit) This presumptive argument, as it presented itself to the m ind of Copernicus, is thus stated by B.iilly. "Lts hommes sement que la nature est simple; les sta- tions et les r§trogradations des planetes oflYuient des apparences bizarres; le principe, qui les ramenoit, a une marche simple, et naturelle, ne pouvoit etre qii'une veritate.* Hist, de l'Astron. Mod. Tom. I p 351. * f Gravesande, Introd. ad Philosoph. §§ 9/9, 945. Opuscules de le Suge, published by M. Prevost. Premiere Memoire, $ 25. TIil- latter writer mentions the theory in question, as a hypothesis wliich received no countenance whatever from the analogy ol* any preceding astronomical duco- verv. Sect. IV.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 217 2. The chief objection, however, to Hartley's comparison ofthe the- orist to the decypherer is, that there are few, if any, physical hypothe- ses, which afford the only way of explaining the phenomena to which they are applied; and therefore, admitting them to be perfectly consis- tent with all the known facts, they leave us in the same state of uncer- tainty, in which the decypherer would find himself, if he should disco- ver a variety of keys to Ihe same cypher. Des Cartes acknowledges, that the same effect might, upon the principles of his philosophy, admit of manifold explanations; and that nothing perplexed him more than to know which he ought to adopt, in preference to the others. " The " powers of nature (says he) I must confess, are so ample, that no sooner " do 1 observe any particular effect, than I immediately perceive lhat it f' may be deduced from my principles, in a variety of different ways ; " and nothing, in general, appears to me more difficult, than to ascer- •' tain by which of these processes it is really produced."* The same remark may (with very few exceptions) be extended to every hypo- thetical theory which is unsupported by any collateral probabilities ari- sing from experience or analogy ; and it sufficiently shews, how infi- nitely inferior such theories are, in point of evidence, to the conclu- sions obtained by the art of the decypherer. The principles, indeed, on which this last art proceeds, may be safely pronounced to be nearly infallible. In these strictures upon Hartley, I have endeavoured to do as much justice as possible to his general argument, by keeping entirely out of sight the particular purpose which it was intended to serve. By con- fining too much his attention to this, Dr. Reid has been led to carry, farther than was necessary or reasonable, an indiscriminate zeal against every speculation to which the epithet hypothetical can, in any degree, be applied. He has been also led to overlook the essential distinction between hypothetical inferences from one department of the Material World to another, and hypothetical inferences from the Material World to the Intellectual. It was with the view of apologizing for inferences of the latter description, that Hartley advanced the logical principle which gave occasion to the foregoing discussion ; and therefore, I ap- prehend, the proper answer to his argument is this :—Granting your principle to be true in all its extent it furnishes no apology whatever for the Theory of Vibrations. If the science of mind admit of any illus- tration from the aid of hypotheses, it must be from such hypotheses alone as are consonant to the analogy of its own laws. To assume, as a fact, the existence of analogies between these laws and those of mat- ter, is to sanction that very prejudice which it is the great object ofthe inductive science of mind to eradicate. I have repeatedly had occasion, in some of my former publications, to observe, that the names of almost all our mental powers and opera- tions are borrowed from sensible images. Of this number are intuition ; * Dissertatio de Methodo. In the sentence immediately following, Des Cartes mentions the general rule which he followed, when such an embarrassment occur- red. " Hinc aliter me extricare non possum, quam si rursus aliqua experimenta quaeram : quae taliae sint, ut eorum idem non sit futurus eventus, si hoc modo quam si illo explicetur.'' The rule is excellent; and it is only to be regretted, that so few exemplifications of it are to be found in his writings. VOL. n. 28 218 ELEMENTS OP THE PHILOSOPHY [l/l cannot completely lay them aside, to accustom himself to view the phenomena of thought in that naked and undisguised state in which they unveil themselves to the powers of consciousness and reflection. To hnve recourse therefore to the analogies suggested by popular language, for the purpose of explain- ing the operations of the mind, instead ofadvancing knowledge, is to confirm and to extend the influence of vulgar errors. AAer having said so much in vindication of analogical conjectures as steps towards physical discoveries, I thought it right to caution my readers against supposing, that what I have stated admits of any ap- plication lo analogical theories of the human mind. Upon this head, however, I must not enlarge farther at present. In treating of the in- ductive logic, I have studiously confined my illustrations to those blanch- es of knowledge in which it has already been exemplified with indispu- table success ; avoiding, for obvious reasons, any reference to sciences in which its utility still remains to be ascertained. III. Supplemantal Observations on the words IxmiTios and A:a a loot, as used in Mathematics. Before dismissing the subjects of induction and analogy, considered as i.ietbods of reasoning in Physics, it remains for me to take some sligm notice of th" use occasionally made cf the same terms in pure Mathematics. AithvU£,b *i. consequence of 'tie very different natures of these sciences, the ii.drct ->n and analog) ofthe one cannot fail to dif- fer widely from the indiction ?nd analogy of the other, yet, from the * " No'.iur',- (say6 iierkeley) seem? more to hnve contributed towards engaging men in coi.tro\ ei*sies and n. .stakes with regard to the nature and operations of the mnd, ^r an tbe be'ng used lo s| eak of those 'hin^:; in terms borrowed from sen- sible ides -.. For exa* 'de, the wdl Is ' from each other, must arise from something common to all tri- angles, and must therefore be a universal property of that figure. In like manner, in the binomial theorem, if the formula correspond with the table of powers in a variety of particular instances, (which instances agree in no other respect, but in being powers raised from the same bino- mial root,) we must conclude—and, I apprehend thai our conclusion is perfectly warranted by the soundest logic,—that il is this common pro- perty which renders the theorem true in all these cases, and consequent- ly, that it must necessarily hold in every other. Whether, on the sup- position that we had never had any previous experience of demonstra tive evidence, we should have been led, by the mere inductive process, to form The idea of necessary truth, may perhaps be questioned; but the slightest acquaintance with mathematics is sufficient to produce the most complete conviction, that whatever is universally true in that science, must be true of necessity; and, therefore, that a universal, and a neces- sary truth, are, in the language of mathematicians, synonymous expres- sions. If this view ofthe matter be just, the evidence afforded by ma- thematical induction must be allowed to differ radically from that of physical; the latter resolving ultimately into our instinctive expecta- tion ofthe laws of nature, and consequently, never amounting to that demonstrative certainty, which excludes the possibility of anomalous exceptions. tical reasoning gave offence to some of his contemporaries; in particular, to M. de Fermat, one of the most distinguished geometers of the 17th century. The ground of his objection, however, (it is worthy of notice) was not any doubt ofthe conclu- sions obtained by Wallis ; but because he thought lhat their ruth might bave been established by a more legitimate and elegant process. »« Sa faenn de demon- trer, qui est fom'ee sur induction plutot que sur un raisonnement a la mode d'Ar- chimede, fcra quelque peine aux novices, qui veuknt des syllogismcs demonstra- tes depuis le comm ncement jusqu'a la fin. Ce n'est pas que je ne I'upprouve, mais toutes ses propositions pouvant etre demontrees via ordinaria, legitima, et Arclumedaea, en beaucoup moms de paroles, que n'en contieni son livre, je ne Cais pas pourquoi il a prefere" cette maniere a l'ancienne, qui est plus convamquante et phis e e^ante, ainsi que j'espere lui faire voir a mon premirr loisir.'' Lettre de M. de Ferniav. i M. le Chev. Kenelme Digby. (See Fermat's Varia Opera Math- ematica, p. 191. (For Wallis's reply t© these strictures, see his Algebra, Cap. lxxix; and his Commcrcium Epistolicum. In the Opuscules of M. le Sage, I find the following sentence quoted from a wok of Li Place, which I have not had an opportunity ot seeing. The judgment of s • great a master, on a logical question relative to his own studies, is o' pecu- liar v-due. "La methode d'induction quvique excellentepour dicouvrir des viritls g(r.e' ales, ne doit pas dispenser de les dfimontrer avec rigueur. (Lecons donnees aux Ecoles Normales, Prem. Vol. p. 380.) Sect. IV.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 221 I have been led into this train of thinking by a remark which La Place appears to me to have stated in terms much too unqualified ;—" Que la " marche de Newton, dans la decouverte de la gravitation universelle, a " ete exactement la meme que dans celle de la formule du binome." When it is recollected, that, in the one case. Npwton's conclusion rela- tive to a contingent, and in the other to a necessary truth, it seems diffi- cult to conceive, how the logical procedure which conducted him to both should have been exactly the same. In one of his queries, he has r in perfect conformity to the principles of Bacon's logic) admitted the possibility, that " God may vary the laws of nature, and make worlds of « several sorts, in several parts of the universe." u At least (he adds) " I see nothing of contradiction in all this."* Would Newton have ex- pressed himself with equal scepticism concerning the universality jf his binomial theorem ; or admitted the possibility of a single exception to it in the indefinite progress of actual involution ? In short, did there ex- ist the slightest shade of difference between the degree of his assent to this inductive result, and that extorted from him by a demonstration of Euclid ? .,,".., i., Although, therefore, the mathematician as well as the natural philoso- pher may, without any blameable latitude of expression, be said to reason by induction, when he draws an inference from the known to the unknown, yet it seems indisputable, lhat, in all such cases, he re-ts his conclusions on grounds essentially distinct from those which form the basis of experimental science. The word analogy, too, as well as induction, is common lo physics, and lo pure mathematics. It is thus we speak of the analogy running through the general properties of the different conic sections, with no less propriety than of the analogy running through the anatomical struc- ture of different tribes of animals. In some instances, these mathemati- cal analogies are collected by a species ofinduction ; in others, Hey are inferred as consequences from more general truths, in which they are in- cluded as particular cases. Thus, in the curves which have just been mentioned, while we content ourselves (as many elementary writers have done)t with deducting their properties from mechanical descrip- tions on a plane, we rise experimentally from a comparison of the pro- positions which have been separately demonstrated with respect to each curve, to more comprehensive theorems, applicable to all of them ; whereas when we begin with considering them in their common origin, we have'it in our power to trace from the source, both their generic nrooerties, and their specific peculiarities. The satisfaction arising trom this last view of the subject can be conceived by those alone vyho have Ivnerienced it; although I am somewhat doubtful whether it be not felt in the greatest degree by such as, after having risen frorn the cor.tem- nlationof particular truths to other truths more general, have been at W conducted to some commanding station, where the mutual connex- ons and affinities of the whole system are brought, at once, under the rante of the eve. Even, however, before we have reached this van- tage-ground, the contemplation ofthe analogy, considered merely as a + Query 31. f L'Hospital, Simson, &c. 222 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [cfwp, IV. fact, is pleasing to ihe mind ; partly, from the mysterious wonder it ex- cites, and partly from the convenient generalization of knowledge it af- fords. To the experienced mathematician this pleasure is farther en- hanced, by the assurance which the analogy conveys, of the existence of yet undiscovered theorems, far more extensive and luminous than those which have led him, by a process so indirect, so tedious, and com- paratively so unsatisfactory, to his general conclusions. In this last respect, the pleasure derived from analogy in mathematics, resolves into the same principle with that which seems to have the chief share in rendering the analogies among the different departments of na- ture so interesting a subject of speculation. In both cases, a powerful and agreeable stimulus is applied to ihe curiosity, by the encouragement given to the exercise ofthe inventive faculties, and by the hope of fu- ture discover, which is awakered and cherished. As the analogous properties (for instance) of the conic sections, point to some general theorems of which they are corollaries ; so the analogy between the phenomena of Electricity and those of Galvanism irresistibly suggests a confident, though vague anticipation of some general physical law comprehending the phenomena of both, but differently modified in its sensible results by a diversity of circumstances.* Indeed, it is by no means impossible, that the pleasure we receive even from those analo- gies which are the foundation of poetical metaphor and simile, may be found resolvable, in part, into the satisfaction connected with the sup- posed discovery of truth, or the supposed acquisition of knowledge ; the faculty of imagination giving to these illusions a momentary ascendant over the sober conclusions of experience ; and gratifying the under- standing with a flattering consciousness of its own force, or at least with a consolatory forgetfulness of its own weakness. SECTION V. Of certain misapplications of the words Experience and Induction in the phrabeuL ogy of Modern Science.—Illustrations from Medicine and from Political Econo- my . In the first Section of this Chapter, I endeavoured to point out the characteristical peculiarities by which the Inductive Philosophy of the Newtonians is distinguished from the hypothetical systems of their pre- decessors; and which entitle us to indulge hopes with respect to the permanent stability oftheir doctrines, which might be regarded as chi- merical, if, in anticipating the future history of science, we were to be guided merely by the analogy of its revolutions in the ages that are past. In order, however, to do complete justice to this argument, as well as to prevent an undue extension of the foregoing conclusions, it is necessa- ry to guard the reader against a vague application of the appropriate terms of inductive science to inquiries which have not been rigorously conducted, according to the rules ofthe inductive logic. From a want * See Note (Y.) Sect. V.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 223 of attention to this consideration, there is a danger,on the one hand, of lending to sophistry or to ignorance the authority of those illustrious names whose steps they profess to follow ; and, on the other, of bring- ing discredit on that method of investigation, of which the language and Other technical arrangements have been thus perverted. Among the distinguishing features of the new logic, when considered in contrast with that ofthe schoolmen, the most prominent is the regard which it professes to pay to experience, as the only solid foundation of human knowledge. It may be worth while therefore, to consider, how far the notion commonly annexed lo this word is definite and precise ; and whether there may not sometimes be a possibility of its being em- ployed in a sense more general and loose, than the authors, who are looked up to as the great models of inductive investigation, understood it to convey.* In the course of the abstract speculations contained in the preceding section, I have remarked, lhat although the difference between the two sorts of evidence, which are commonly referred to the separate heads of experience and of analogy, be rather a difference in degree than in kind, yet that it is useful lo keep these terms in view, in order to mark the * As the reflections which follow are entirely of a practical nature, I shall ex- press myself fas far as is consistent with a due regard to precision) agreeably to the modes of speaking in common use ; without affecting a scrupulous attention to some speculative distinctions, which, however curious and interesting, when considered in connexion with the Theory ofthe Mind, do not lead to any logical conclusions of essential importance in the conduct ofthe Understanding. In such sciences, for example, as Astronomy, Natural Philosophy, and Chemistry, which rest upon phenomena open to the scrutiny of every inquirer, it would obviously be puerile in the extreme to attempt drawing the line between facts which have been ascertained by cur own personal observation, and those which we have im- plicitly adopted upon our faith in the universal consent of the scientific world. The evidence, in both cases, may be equally irresistible; and sometimes the most cautions reasoners may justly be disposed to consider that ot testimony as the least fallible ofthe two. By far the greater part, indeed, of what is commonly called experimental know- ledge, will be found, when traced to its origin, to resolve entirely into our confi- dence in the judgment and the veracity of our fellow-creatures ; nor, fin the sci- ences already mentioned) has this identification of the evidence of testimony with that of experience, the slightest tendency to affect the legitimacy of our inductive conclusions. In some other branches of knowledge, (more particularly in those political doc- trines which assume as incontrovertible data the details of ancient history) the au- thority of testimony is, for obvious reasons,much more questionable; and to dig- nify it, in these, with the imposing character of experience, is to strengthen one of the chief bulwarks of popular prejudices. This view ofthe subject, however, although well entitled to the attention ofthe logician, hr.s no immediate connex- ion with my present argument; and accordingly I shall make no scruple, in the sequel t*o comprehend, under the name :if experience, die grounds of our assent to all the facts on whicii our reasonings proceed, provided only that the certainty of these facts be, on either supposition, equally indisputable. The logical errors which it is the aim of this section to correct, turn upon a still more dangerous latitude in the >*se of this word; in consequence of which, the authority ot experience monies insensibly to be extended to in mmerable opinions resting solely on supposed analogies ; while, not unfrequen ly, the language of Ba- con is quoted in bar of any theoretical argumeir on the other side of the question. I have added this note, partly to obviate some criticisms, to which my own phraseology may, at first s".ght, appear liable; and partly tr, point out the connex- ion between the following discussion, and some of the foregoing speculations. 224 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. contrast between cases which are separated from each other by a very wide and palpable interval ;— more especially, to mark the difference between on argument from individual to individual of the same species, and an argument from species to species of the same genus. As this distinction, however, when accurately examined, turns out lobe of a more vague and popular nature than at first sight appears, it n not sur- prising that instances should occasionally present themselves, in which it is difficult to say, of the evidence before us, to which of these de- scriptions it ought to be referred. Nor does this doubt lead merely to a question concerning phraseology : it produces a hesitation which must have some effect even on the judgment of a philosopher ; the max- ims to which we have been accustomed, in the course of our early stu- dies, leading us to magnify the evidence of experience as the sole test of truth ; and to depreciate that of analogy, as one of the most fertile sources of error. As these maxims proceed on the supposition, that the respective provinces of both are very precisely defined, it is evident, that, admitting them to be perfectly just in themselves, much danger may still be conceivable from their injudicious application. I shall en- deavour to illustrate this remark by some familiar instances; which, I trust, will be sufficient lo recommend it to the farther consideration of future logicians. To treat ofthe subject with that minuteness of detail which is suited to its importance, is incompatible with the subordinate place which belongs to it in my general design. It is observed by Dr. Reid* that " in medicine, physicians must, for '• the c.iost part, be directed in their prescriptions by analogy. The " constitution of one human body is so like to that of another, that it " is reasonable to think, that what is the cause of health or sickness to " one, may have the same effect on another. And this (he adds) is **• generally found true, though not without some exceptions." i am doubtful if this observation be justified by the common use of language : which, as far as I am able to judge, uniformly refers the ev- idence on which a cautious physician proceeds, not to analogy, but to experience. The German monk, who, (according to the popular tradi- tion) navii;2 observed the salutary effects of antimony upon some ofthe lower animals, ventured to prescribe the use of it to his own fraternity, might be justly said to reason analogically ;—in as much as his experi- ence related to one species, and his inference to another. But if, after having thjs poisoned all the monks of his own convent, he had perse- vered in recommending the same mineral to the monks of another, the example of our most correct writers would have authorized us to say, (how far justly is a different question) that he proceeded in direct oppo- sition to the evidence of experience. In offering this slight criticism on Dr. Reid, I would be very far from being understood to say, that the common phraseology is more unex- ceptionable than his. I would only remark, that his phraseology on this occasion is almost peculiar to himself; and that the prevailing opinions, both of philosophers and ofthe multitude, incline them to rank ihe grounds of our reason!..g in the medical art, at a much higher point in the scale of evidence, than what is marked by the word analogy. In- deed, I should be glad to know, if there be anyone bianch of human ♦Essays on the Intellect. Powers, p. 53. MCt. V.] QP THE HUMAN M1NB. 225 knowledge, in which men are, in general, more disposed to boast ofthe lights of experience, than in the practice of medicine. It would,-perhaps, have been better for the world, if the general ha- bits of thinking and of speaking, had, in this instance, been more agree- able than they seem to be in fact, to Dr. Reid's ideas; or, at least, if some qualifying epithet had been'invariably added to the word experi- ence, to show with how very great latitude it is to be understood, when applied to the evidence on which the physician proceeds to the exercise of his art. The truth is, that, even on the most favourable supposition, this evidence, so far as it rests on experience, is weakened or destroyed by the uncertain conditions of every new case to which his former re- sults are to be applied ; and that, without a peculiar sagacity aud dis- crimination in marking, not only the resembling, but the characteristi- cal features of disorders, classed inder the same technical name, his practice cannot, with propriety, be said to be guided by any one ration- al principle of decision, but merely by blind and random conjecture.— The more successfully this sagacity and discrimination are exercised, the more nearly does the evidence of medical practice approach to that of experience ; but, in every instance, without exception, so immense is the distance between them, as to render the meaning of the word expe- rience, when applied to medicine, essentially different from its import in these sciences where it is possible for us, in all cases, by due attention to the circumstances of an experiment, to predict its result, with an al- most infallible certainty.* Notwithstanding this very obvious consideration, it has become fash- ionable among a certain class of medical practitioners, since the lustre thrown ou the inductive logic of Bacon by the discoveries of Newton and the researches of Boyle, to number their art with the other branches of experimental philosophy ; and to speak ofthe difference between the empiric aud the scientific physician, us if it were exactly analogous to that between tne cautious experimenter and the hypothetical theorist in physics Experience, (we are told) and experience alone, must be our guide in medicine, as in all the other departments of physical know- ledge :—Nor is any innovation, however rational, proposed in the esta- blished routine of practice, but an accumulation of alleged cases is im- mediately brought forward, as an experimental proof of ihe dangers which it threatens. * " L'art tie conjectorer en Medecine ne sauroit consister dans une suite de rai- sonnt mens uppuje* surun vain sysieme. C'est uniquement l'art de comparer une maladie qu'on doit gufirir, avec les maladies semblables qu'on a dfija counties par son experience ou par celle des au res. Cet art consiste memequelquefois a ap- percevoir un rapport entre des maladies qui paroissenl n'en point avoir, comme aussi des differences essentielle*, qnnique ftie-itives, entre celles qui paroissent se ressembler le plus. Plus on aura rassemblS de faits, plus on sera en etat de conjeeuirer heurcusenient; suppose n€anmoins qu'on ait d'adleurs cette justesse d'esprit que la nature seule pout donner. «■ Ainsi ie medleur medecin n'est pas (comme le prejuge" le suppose) celui qui accumule en aveugle et en courant beaucoup de pratique, mais celui qui ne tait que des observations bien appiofondies, et qui joint a ces observations le nombre beaucoup plus grand des observations faites dans tous les siecies par des hommes aiiimes du meme esprit que lui. Ces observations «mt la veritable experience du medecin." D'Alembert, F.claireissemcns sur les Elemens de Philosophic, § vi. vol.. n. 29 220 KLENENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chop. IV- It was a frequent and favourite remark of the late Dr. Cullen,—that there are more false facts current in the world than false theories; and a similar observation occurs, more than once, iu the Novum Organon. '» Men of learning (says Bacon in one passage) are too olteu led, Iroui *' indolence or credulity, to avail themselves of mere run ours or whuy- " pers of experience, as confirmations, and sometimes as the very ground* <' work of their philosophy; ascribing to them the same authority as if " they rested on legitimate testimony. Like to a government which " should regulate its measures, not by the official iuloriuaiion received " from ils own accredited ambassadors, but by the gossipings of news- " mongers, iu the streets. Such, in truth, is the manner iu which the •*• interests of philosophy, as far as experience is concerned, have been " hitherto administered.—Nothing is to be feund which has been duly '• investigated ; nothing which has been verified by a careful examina- " lion of proofs; nothing which has been reduced to the standard of " number, weight, or measure."* This very important aphorism deserves the serious attention of those who, while they are perpetually declaiming against the uncertainty und fallacy of systems, are themselves employed in amassing a chaos ot insu- lated particulars, which they admit upon the slenderest evidence. Such men, sensible of their own incapacity for scientific investigation, have often a main ious pleasure m destroying the fabrics of then predeces- sors j or, if they should be actuated by less unworthy motives, they may yet feel a certain gratification to their vanity, in astonishing the world with anomalous and unlooked for phenomena;—a weakness which results not less naturally from ignorance and folly, than a bias to pre* mature generalization from the consciousness of genius. Both of these weaknesses are undoubtedly adverse to the progress of science j but, in the actual state of human knowledge, the former is perhaps the more dangerous of the two. Iii the practice of medicine (to which topic I wish to confine myj»elf more particularly at present) there are a variety of other circumstan- ces which, abstracting from any suspicion of bad faith in those on whose testimony the credibility of facts depends, have a tendency to vi- tiate the roost candid accounts of what is commonly dignified with the title of experience. Su deeply rooted in the constitution ofthe mind is lhat disposition on which philosophy is grafted, that the simplest nar- rative of the most illiterate observer involves more or less of hypothe- sis ; nay, in general, it will be found, that, in proportion to hi* igno- rance, the greater is the number of conjectural principles involved in his statements. A village-apothecary (and, if possible, in a still greater degree, an experienced nurse) is -eki'-un able to describe the plainest case, without emptying a phraseology of which every word is a theory ; whereas a simple and genuine specilv aiioii of the phenomena whicn mark a par- tir ulor disease ;—a spe. ihcatioti uusophistrated by fancy, or by pre- conceived opinions, may be regarded as unequivocal evidence of a mind trained by long and .-ucce^ful study to the most difficult of all arts, that «if the faithful interpretation of nature. Nov. Org. Lib. I. Aph.*xeviii, S6Ct. V.] OP THE HUMAN MIND. 227 Independently, however, of all these circumstances, which lend so powerfully to ritiaie the data whence the physician has to reason ; and supposing his assumed facts to be stated, not only with the most scrupu- lous regard lo truth, but with the most jealous exclusion of theoretical expressions, still the evidence upon which he proceeds is, at best, con- jectural and dubious, when compared with what is required iu chemis- try or in mechanics. It is seldom, if ever, possible, that the description of any medical case ran include all the circumstances with which the result was connected ; and, therefore, how true soever the facts descri- bed may be, yet, when the conclusion lo which they lead comes lo be applied as a general rule iu practice, it is not only a rule rashly drawn from one single experiment, hut a rule transferred from a case imper- fectly known, to another of which we are equally ignorant. Here, too, it will be found, that the evidence of experience is incomparably less in favour of the empiric, than ofthe cautious theorist; or rather, that it is by cautious theory alone, that experience can be rendered of any value. Nothing, indeed, can be more absurd than lo contrast, as is commonly done, experience with theory, as if they stood in opposition to each other. Without theory, (or, in other words, without general principles, inferred from a sagai ious comparison of a variety of phenomena,] ex- perience is a blind and useless guide; while, on the other hand, a legi- timate theory (and the same observation may be extended to hypothe- tical theories, supported by numerous analogies,) necessarily presupposes a knowledge of connected and well ascertained facts, more comprehen- sive, by far, than any mere empiric is likely to possess. When a scien- tific practitioner, accordingly, quits the empirical routine of his- profes- sion, in quest of a higher and more commanding ground, he does not proceed on the supposition that it is possible to supersede the necessity of experience by the most accurate reasonings a priori; but, distrust- ing conclusions which rest on the observation of this or that individual, he is anxious, by combining those of an immense multitude, to separate accidental conjmictions from established connexions, and to ascertain those laws ofthe human frame which rest on the universal experience of mankind. The idea of following nature in the treatment of diseases ; —an idea which, 1 believe, prevails more and more in the practice of every physician, in proportion as his views are enlarged by science, is founded, not on hypothesis, but on one of the most general laws yet known with respect to tbe animal economy ; and it implies an acknow- legu eut, not only of the vanity of abstract theories, but ofthe limited province of human art.* These slight remarks are sufficient to show how vague and indeter- minate the notion is, which is commonly annexed to the word experience by the most zealous advocates for its paramount authority in medicine. • " Gaudet corpus vi prorsus mirabili, qua contra morhos se tueatur; multos arceat ; multos jam inchoatos quamoptimeei citissim sol vat; aliosque, suomodo, ad felicem exitum lentius perducat. ** Haec, Antocratcia vis Naturae medicatrix vocatur; medic's, philosophic, notissima, et jureceleberrima. Haec sola ad multos morbos sanandos sufficit, in omnibus fere prodest: Quin et medicamenta sua natura optima, tantum solum- modo prosunt, quantum hujus vires insitas excitent, dirigant, gubernet. Medicina enim neque agit in cadaver, neque repugnante naturaaliquid proficit.'' Conspectus Medicinae Theoreticae, Auctore Jacobo Gregory, M. D. §§. 59. 60. Edin. 1792. 228 ELF.MB.VTp OF TH*E PHILOSOPHY [chcp. IV. They seem further to show, that the question between them and their adversaries amounts to little more than a dispute about the comparative advantages of an experience guided hy penetration and judgment, or of an experience which is to supersede all exercise of our rational facul- ties; of an experience accurate, various, and discriminalinu, or of i>ue which is gross and undistinguishing, like the perceptions of the lower animals. Another department of knowledge iu which constant appeals are made to experience, is the science of politics; and, iu this science alw», I apprehend, as well as in the former, that word is used with a far greater degree of latitude than is generally suspected. Indeed, most of the remarks which have been already offered on the one subject may be extended (mutatis mutandis) to the other. I shall confine my at- tention, therefore, in what follows to one or two peculiarities by which politics is specifically and exclusively characterized as an object of stu- dy ; and which seem lo remove the species of evidence it admits of to a still greater distance than that of medicine itself from what the word experience naturally suggests to a careless inquirer. The science of politics may be divided into two parts ; the first hav- ing for its object the theory of government; Ihe second, the general principles of legislation. That I may not lose myself in too wide a field, I shall, on the present occasion, wave all consideration of the former ; and, for the sake of still greater precision, shall restrict my remarks to those branches of tbe latter, which are comprehended under tne gene- ral title of Political Economy; —a phrase, however, which 1 wish to be here understood in its most extensive meaning.* They who have turned their attention, during the last century, lo in- quiries connected with population, national wealth, and other collateral subjects, may be divided into two classes; to the one of which we may, for tbe sake of distinction, give the title of political arithmeti- cians, or statistical collectors; lo the other, that of political economists, or political philosophers. The former are generally supposed to have the evidence of experience in their favour, and seldom fail to arrogate to therotclves exclusively, the merit of treading closely in the footsteps of Bacon. In comparison w'\th them, the latter are considered as little bet- ter than vi-iouaries, or, at least, as entitled to no credit whatever, when their conclusions are at variance with ihe details of statistics. In opposition to this prevailing piejudite it may, with confidence, be asserted, lhat, iu so far as either of these branches of knowledge has any real value, it must rest on a basis of well-ascertained facts ; and that the difference between them consists only in the different nature ofthe facts with which they are respectively conversant. The facts accumulated by the statistical collector are merely particular results, which other men have seldom an opportunity of verifying or of dispro- ving; and which, to those who consider them in an insulated state,can never afford* any important information. The facts, which the politi- cal philosopher professes to investigate, are exposed to ihe examination of all mankind ; and while ihey enable him, like the general laws of physics, to ascertain numberless particulars by syrdhetic reasoning, they fumish the means of esiimating the credibility of evidence resting on the testimony of individual observers. ♦ See W.le <'/■■ t Sect. V.J OP THE HUMAN MNB. 229 It is acknowledged by Mr. Smith, with respect to himself, that he had •*" no great faith in political arithmetic :"* and I agree with him so far as to think that little, if any, regard is due to a particular phenomenon, when stated as an objection to a conclusion resting on the general laws which regulate the course of human affairs. Even admitting the phe- nomenon in question to have been accurately observed, and faithfully described, it is yet possible that we may be imperfectly acquainted wilh that combination of circumstances whereby the effect is modified ; and that, if these circumstances were fully before us. this apparent excep- tion would turnout an additional illustration ofthe very truth which it was brought to invalidate. If these observations be just, instead of appealing to political arith- metic as a check on the conclusions of political economy, it would often be more reasonable to have recourse to political economy as a check on the extravagancies of political arithmetic. Nor will this assertion appear paradoxical to those who consider, that the object of the politi- cal arithmetician is too frequently to record apparent exceptions to rules sanctioned by the general experience of mankind; and, consequently, that in cases where Ihere is an obvious or a demonstrative incompatibili- ty between the alleged exception and the general principle, the fair logical inference is not against the truth of the latter, but against the possibility ofthe former. It has loii£ been an established opinion among the most judicious and enlightened philosophers,—that as the desire of bettering our condition appears equally from a careful review of the motives which habitually in- fluence our oivn conduct, and from a general survey ofthe history of our species, to be the master-spring of human industry, the labour of slaves never can be so productive as that of freemen. Not many years have elapsed, since it was customary to stigmatize this reasoning as visiona- ry and metaphysical; and to oppose to it that species of evidence to which we were often reminded that all theories must bend ;—the evi- dence of experimental calculations, furnished by intelligent and credi- ble observers on the other side ofthe Atlantic. An accurate examina- tion ofthe fact has shewn how wide of the truth these calculations were ; but independently of any such detection of their fallacy, might it not have been justly affirmed, thai the argument from txperience was de- cidedly against their credibility;—the facts appealed to, resting solely upon the good sense and good faith of individual witnesses; while the opposite argument, drawn from the principles of the human framer was supported by the united voice of all nations and ages ? if we examine the leading principles which run through Mr. Smith's Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of tne Wealth of Nations, we shall find, that all of them are general facts or general results, analogous to that which has been just mentioned. Of this kind, for instance, are the following propositions,—from which a very large proportion of his cha- racterisiTcal doclnnes follow, as necessary and almost manifest corol- laries : That what we c;*\\ the Political Order, is much less the effect of human contrivance than is commonly imagined ;—That every man is a belter judge of his own interest than any legislator can be for him ; and that this regard to private interest (or in other words, this desire of belterino* our condition) may be safely trusted to as a principle of action * Wealth of Nations, Vol. H. p. 310.9th edit. 230 ELEMENTS OP THE PHILOSOPHY [(hap. tV. universal among men in its operation;—a principle stronger, indeed, in some than in others, but constant in its habitual influence upon all.— That, where the rights of individuals are completely protected by the magistrate, there is a strong tendency in human affairs, arming from what we are apt to consider as the selfish passions of our nature, to a progressive and rapid improvement in the state of society :—Thai this tendency to improvement in human affairs is often so very powerful, as to correct the inconveniences threatened by the errors of the states- man :—And lhat, therefore, the reasonable presumption is in favour of every measure which is calculated to afford to its farther develope- ment, a scope still freer than what it at present enjoys; or, which amounts very nearly to the same thing, in favour of as great a liberty in the employment of industry, of capital, and of talents, as Is consistent with the security of property, and of the other rights of our fellow- citizens. The premises, it is perfectly obvious, from which these con- clusions are deduced, are neither hypothetical assumptions, nor meta- physical abstractions. They are practical maxims of good sense, ap- proved by the experience of men in ell ages of the world; and of which, if we wish for any additional confirmations, we have only to re- tire within our own bosoms, or to open our eyes on what is passing around us. From these considerations it would appear, that iu politics, as well as in many ofthe other sciences, the loudest advocates for experience are the least entitled to appeal to its authority in favour of their dogmas ; and that the charge of a presumptuous confidence in human wisdom and foresight, which they ate perpetually urging against political philo- sopher?, may, with far greater justice, be retorted on themselves An additional illustration of this is presented by the strikingly contrasted effects of statistical and of philosophical studies on the intellectual ha- bits in general ; the former invariably encouraging a predilection for restraints and checks, and all the other technical combinations of an antiquated and scholastic policy;—the latter, by inspiring, on the one band, a distrust of the human powers, when they attempt to embrace in detail, interests at once so complicated and so momentous ; and on the other, a religious attention to the designs of Nature, as displayed in the general laws which regulate her economy ;—leading, no less irresistibly, to a gradual and progressive simplification of the political mechanism. It is, indeed, the never failing result of all sound philosophy, to hum- ble, more and more, the pride of science before that Wisdom which is Infinite and divine ;—whereas, the farther back we carry our researches into those ages, the institutions of which have been credulously regard- ed as monuments of the superiority of unsophisticated good sern>e, over the false refinements of modern arrogance, we are the more struck with the numberless insults offered to the most obvious suggestions of nature and ol reason. We may remark this, not only in ihe moral depravity of rude tribes, but in the universal disposition which they discover to disfigure and distort the bodies of their infant' ;—iu one case, new-mo- delling the form of the eyelids ;—in a second, lengthening the ears ;—* in a third, checking tbe growth of the feet ;— in a fourth, by mechani- cal pressures applied to the head, attacking the seat of thought mid intelligence. To allow the human form to attain, in perfection, its fair proportions, is one ofthe latest improvements of civilized society; and the case is perfectly analogous in those sciences which have for their Sect. VI.] OP THE HI/MAN MIND* 231 object to assist nature in the cure of diseases ; in the developement and improvement of the intellectual faculties; iu the correction of bad mo- rals ; aud in the regulations of political economy. SECTION VI. OF THE SPECULATION CONCERNING FINAL CAUSES. I. Opinion of Lord Bac >n on the subject.—Final Causes rejected by Des Cartes, and by the majority of French Philosophers.—Recognized as legitimate Objects of research by Newton.—Tacitly acknowledged by all as a useful logical Guide, even in Sciences which have no immediate relation to Theology. The study of Final Causes may be considered in two different points of view; first, as subservient to the evidences of natural religion ; and secondly, as a guide and auxiliary in the investigation of physical laws. Of these views it is the latter alune which is immediately connected with the principles ofthe inductive logic ; and it is to this, accordingly, that I shall chiefly direct my attention in the following observations. I shall not, however, adhere so scrupulously lo a strict arrangement, as to avoid all reference to the former, where the train of my reflections may naturally lead to it. The truth is, that the two speculations will, on ex- amination, be found much more nearly allied, than might at first sight be apprehended. I before observed, that the phrase Final Cause was first introduced by Aristotle ; and that the extension thus given to the notion of causa- tion contributed powerfully to divert the inquiries of his followers from the proper objects of physical science. In reading the strictures of Ba- con on this mode of philosophizing, it is necessary always to bear in mind, that they have a particular reference to the theories ofthe school- men ; and, if they should sometimes appear to be expressed in terms too unqualified, due allowances ought to he made for the undistingush- ing zeal of a reformer, in attacking prejudices consecrated by long and undisturbed prescription. " Causarum finalium inquisitio sterilis est, « et tanquam Virgo Deo consecrata, nihil parit.^ Had a similar remark occurred in any philosophical work of the eighteenth century, it might perhaps have been fairly suspected to savour of the school of Epicu- rus ; although, even in such a case, the quaintness and levity of the conceit would probably have inclined a cautious and candid reader to interpret the author's meaning with an indulgent latitude. On the pre- sent occasion, however, Bacon is his own best commentator; and I shall therefore quote, in a faithful, though abridged translation, the pre- paratory passage by which this allusion is introduced. " The second part of metaphysics is the investigation of final causes; " which I ot je. t to not as a speculation which ought to be neglected, •< but as one which has, in general, been very improperly regarded as a « branch of physics Jf this were merely a fault of arrangement, I - should not be disposed to lay great stress upon it j for arrangement 232 ELEMENTS OP THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. JV. a is u?eful chiefly as a help to perspicuity, and does not affect the sub- " stautial matter of science : Bui, in this instance, a disregard vi method '* has occasioned the most fatal consequences to philosopby ; in as much •' as the consideration of final causes in physics has supplanted nnd " banished the study of physical causes ; the fancy amusing itself with u illusory explanations derived from the former, and misleading the cu- " riosity from a steady prosecution ofthe letter." After illustrating this remark by various examples, Bacon adds: •' I would not, however, •' be understood, by these observations, to insinuate, that the final cause* "just mentioned may not be fouded in truth, and,in a metaphysical •' view, extremely worthy of attention ; but only, that when such dis- •• quisilions invade and overrun the appropriate province of physics, " they are likely to lay waste and ruin that department of knowledge " The passage concludes wi h these words : '< And so much concerning "metaphysics; the part of which relating to final causes, I do not de- " ny, has been often enlarged upon in physical, as well as in metaphysi- '• cal treatises. But while, in the latter of these it is treated of with '■ propriety, in the former, it is altogether inisp aced ; and that, not " merely because it violates the rules of a logical order, but because it " operates as a powerful obstacle to the progress of inductive science '** The epigrammatic maxim which gave occasion tolhese extracts has, I believe, been oflener quoted (particularly by French writers) than any other sentence in Bacon's works; and, as il lias in general been Mated, without any reference to the context, in the form of a detached aplio- " rism, it has been commonly supposed to convey a meaning widely dif- ferent from what appears to hsve been annexed to it by the author.— The remarks with which he has prefaced it, and which I have here submitted to the consideration of my readers, sufficiently shew, not only that he meant His proposition to be restricted to t:.e abuse of final cau-es iu the physics of Aristotle, but that he was anxious to ^uard against the possibility of tiny misapprehension or misrepresentation of his -pin- ion. A farther proof of this is afforded by the censure which, iu the same paragraph, he bestows on Aristotle, for " substituting Nature, in- '■ ,-tead of God, as the fountain of final causes; aud for Irealii'g of them " rather as subservient to logi'- than to theology.'* A similar observation may be made on another sentence in Bacon, in the interpretation of which a very learned writer, Dr. Cudworth, seems to have altogether lost sight of his usual candour. *4 lucredibile et quau- *• tutu agmeu idoloruin philosophiae immiserit naturalium operationum *>•' ad similitudinem actioiiumhutnanarniu reductio." " If (says Cudworth) <( the Advancer of Learning here speaks of those who unskilfully attribute <( their own properties to inanimate bodies, (as when they say, that mat- '- ter desires form? as tbe fen.ale does the male, and that heavy bodies '* descend down by appetite towards the centre, that they may re>t there- " in) there is nothing to be leprehended in the passage. But, if his " meaning be extended further to take away all final causes trom the •* things of nature, then is it the very spirit of atheism and infidelity h "' is no iilol of the. cave or den (to ut>e that affected language) that is, no " prejudice or fallacy imposed on ourselves, from ihe aitrihutU'g our " own auiinalish properties to things without us, to think that the frame '* aud system of this whole world were contrived by a perfect under- " standing and mind.'' * De Augm. Scient. Lib. IlL cap. iv. v. See Note (AA.) sect. vi. OF THE HUMAN MIND. 233 It is difficult to conceive that any person who had read Bacon's works, and who, at the same time, was acquainted with the theories which it was their great object lo explode, could for a moment, have hesitated about rejecting the latter interpretation as altogether absurd ; and yet the splenetic tone which marks the conclusion of Cudworth's strictures, plainly shews, that he had a decided leaning to it, in preference to the former * The comment does no honour lo his liberality; and, on the most favourable supposition, must be imputed to a superstitious rever- ance for the remains of Grecian wisdom, accompanied with a corres- ponding dread ofthe unknown dangers to be apprehended from philo- sophical innovations. Little was he aware, that, in turning the atten- tion of men from the history of opinions and systems to the observation and study of nature, Bacon was laying the foundation of a bulwark against atheism, more stable and impregnable than the united labours of? the ancients were able to rear;—a bulwark which derives additional strength from every new accession to the stock of human knowledge.! Whether Bacon's contempt for the Final Causes of the Aristotelians + Even the former interpretation is not agreeable (as appears manifestly from the context) to Bacon's idea. The prejudices which he has more particularly in view, are those which take their rise from a bias in the mind to imagine a greater equality and uniformity in nature than really exists. As an instance of this, he men- tions the universal assumption among the ancient astronomers, that all the celes- tial motions are performed in orbits perfectly circular;—an assumption, which, a few years before Bacon wrote, had heen completely disproved by Kepler. . To this he adds some other examples from physics and chemistry; afier which he intro- duces the general reflection animadverted on by Cudworth.—The whole passage concludes with these words. " Tanta est harmoniae discrepantia inter spiritum horn in is et spiritum mundi." The criticism may appear minute; but I cannot forbear to mention, as a proof of the carelessness with which Cudworth had read Bncon, that the prejudice sup- posed by the former to belong to the class of idola specus, is expressly quoted by the latter, as an example of the idola tribus. (See the 5th Book de Augment. Sci- ent. Cap. iv. f Extabit eximium Newtoni opus adversus Atheorum impetus munitissimum praesidium. (Cotesii Praef. in Edit. Secuud. PrincipJ In the above vindication of Bacon, I have abstained from any appeal to the in- stances in which he has himself forcibly and eloquently expressed the same senti- ments here ascribed to him; because I conceive tha' an author's real opinions are to be most indisputably judged of from the general spirit aud tendency of his writings. The following passage, however, is too piecious a document to be omit- ted on the present occasion. It is indeed one ofthe most hackneyed quotations in our language ; but it forms, on that very account, the more striking a contrast to the voluminous and now neglected erudition displayed by Cudworth in defence of the same argument. " I had rat'ier believe all the fables in the Legends, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, than that this universal frame is without a m.nd ! It is true that a little philosophy inclineth man's mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion; for while the mind of man looketh upon second causes scattered, it may sometimes rest in them and go no farther; but when it beholdeth the chain of them confederate and linked togetner, it must needs fly to providence and Deity: nay, even that school which is most accused of atheism, doth most demonstrate religion; that is, the sch-ol of Leucippus, and Democri- tus, and Epicurus; for it is a thousand limes more credible, thai four mutable ele- ments and one immutable fifth essence, duly and eternally ph-o.d, need no God, than that an armv of infinite small portions, or seeds unplaced, should have pro- duced this order and beauty without a divine marshal." (Bacon's Essays.) VOL. If- 30 •234 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. has not carried him to an extreme in recommending the total exclusion ol them from physics, is a very different question; and a question of much importance in the theory of tbe inductive logic. My own opin- ion is, that his views on this point, if considered as applicable to tha present state of experimental science, are extremely limited and errone- ous. Perhaps, at the time when he wrote, such an exclusion may have appeared necessary, as the only effectual antidote against the errors which then infected every branch of philosophy ; but, granting this to be true, no good reason can be given for continuing the same language, at a period, when the proper object of physics is too well understood, to render it possible for the investigation of final causes to lead astray the most fanciful theorist. What harm can be apprehended from re- marking those proofs of design which fall under the view of the physical inquirer in the course of his studies? Or, if it should be thought foreign to his province to speak of design, be may, at least, be permitted to re- mark what ends are really accomplished by particular means ; and what advantages result from the general laws by which the phenomena of na- ture are regulated. Iu doing this, he only states a fad; and if it be il- logical to go farther, he may leave the inference to the moralist or the divine. In consequence, however, of the vague and commonplace declama- tion against final causes, sanctioned (as has been absurdly supposed) by those detached expressions of Bacon, which have suggested the fore- going reflections, it has, for many years past, become fashionable to omit the consideration of th»*m entirely, as inconsistent with the acknow- ledged rules of sound philosophizing;—a caution (it may be remarked by the way) which is most scrupulously observed by those writers who are the most forward to censure every apparent anomaly or dunrdtr in ihe economy of the universe. The effect of this has been, to divest the study of nature of its most attractive charms ; and to sacrifice to a false idea of logical rigour, all the moral impressions and pleasures which physical knowledge is filled to yield.* Nor is it merely in a moral view, that the consideration of uses is in- teresting. There are some parts of nature in which it is necessary to complete the physical theory ; nay there are instances, in which it has proved a powerful and perhaps indispensable organ of physical discovery. That Bacon should not have been aware of this, will not appear sur- prising, when it is recoliec'ed, that the chief faets which justify the ob- servation have been brought to light since his time. Of these facts, Ihe most remarkable are furnished by the science of anatomy. To understand the structure of ar: animal body, it is necessa- • "If a traveller (says the great Mr. Boykj being in some ill-inhabited eastern Country, shoul come to u large and fa.r buil'iing such at ooe ofthe nn.st stately of those tbey call caravanzeras, though he would esteem and be delighted with tin- magnificence ofthe structvre, uid ihe commodiousness of the apartments, yet supposing it to have been erected but for "ic honour or the pleasure of the founder, he would commend so stately a fabric, ■ ithout thanking him for it; but, if he were satisfied tha' tbis commodiousbu'lding was designed by the founder as a re- cep'.acie for passengers, who were freely in have die use ofthe many conveniences the apartments afforded, he would ihen th.nk himself obliged, n..t only to praise the nugiificenct, hut with gratitude to acknowledge tbe bounty and the philan- thropy of so munificent a benefactor." (Boyle\ Works, Vol. IV. p. 517, Folio edition.^ SCCl. VI.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 235 ry not only to examine the conformation of the parts, but to consider their functions ; or, in other words to consider their ends and uses: Nor indeed, does tbe most accurate knowledge of the former, till perfected by the discovery of the latter, afford satisfaction to an inquisitive and scientific mind. Every anatomist, accordingly, whatever his metaphys- ical creed may be, proceeds, in his researches, upon the maxim, that no organ exists without its appropriate destination ; and although he may often fail in his attempts to ascertain what this destination is, he never carries his scepticism so far, as, for a moment, to doubt of the general principle. I am inclined to think, that it is in this way the most impor- tant steps in physiology have been gained ; the curiosity being constant- ly kept alive by some new problem in the animal machine ; and, at the same time, checked in its wanderings, by an irresistible conviction, that nothing is made in vain. The memorable account given by Mr. Boyle ofthe circumstances which led lo the discovery ofthe circulation ofthe blood, is but one ofthe many testimonies which might be quoted in con- firmation of this opinion. " I remember that when I asked our famous Harvey, in the only dis- course I had with him (which was but a little while before he died) " what were the things which induced him to think of a circulation of " the blood ? he answered me, that when he took notice, that the valves " in the veins of so many parts of the body were so placed, that they " gave free passage to the blood towards the heart, but opposed the " passage ofthe venal blood the contrary way, he was invited to think, " that so provident a cause as nature had not placed so many valves " without design; and no design seemed more probable, than that, since " the blood could not well, because of the interposing valves, be sent by " the veins to the limbs, it should be sent through the arteries, and re- " turn through the veins, whose valves did not oppose its course that " way."* This perception of design and contrivance is more peculiarly impres- sive, when we contemplate those instances in the animal economy, in which the same effect is produced, in different combinations of circum- stances, by different means;—when we compare, for example, the cir- culation of the blood in the foetus, with that in the body of the animal after it is born. On such an occasion, how is il possible to withhold the * Boyle's Works, Vol. IV. p. 538. Folio ed. See Outlines of Moral Philosophy, p. 185. (Edin. 1793.) The reasoning here ascribed to Harvey seems now so very natural and obvious, that some have been disposed to question his claim to the high rank commonly as- signed to him among the improvers of science. The late Dr. William Hunter has said, that after the discovery of the valves in the veins, which Harvey learned, while in Italy, from his master Pabricius ab Aquapadente, the remaining step, might easily Ivtve been made by any person of common abilities. " This disco- very (he observes) set Harvey to work upon the use of the heart and vascular sys- tern in animals, and, in the course of some years, Ire was so happy aa to discover, and to prove beyond all possibility of doubt, the circulation of the blood." He afterwards expresses his astonishment that this discovery should have been left for Harvey ; adding, that *' Providence meant to reserve it for him, and would not let men see what was before them, nor understand what they read.'1'1 (Hunter's Intro- ductory Lectures, p. 42. etseq.) Wiiatever opinion be formed on this point, Dr. Hunter's remarks are valuable, as an additional proof of the regard paid by anatomists to Final Causes^ in the study of physiology. See also Haller, Elem. Physiolog. Tom-1, p. 204. 236 ELEMENTS OF THE 1'HILOSOI'HV [chttp. IV. assent from the ingenious reflection of Baxter ! " Art and means are de- *' signed ly multiplied, that we might not take it for the effects of chance ; " and, in some cast.-, the method itself is different, that we might see it '•is not the effect of surd necessity."* The study of comparative anatomy leads, at every step, bo directly and so manifestly to the same conclusion, that even those physiologists who had nothing in view but the advancement of their own science, unanimously a^ree in recommending the dissection of animals of differ- ent kinds, as the most effectual of all helps for ascertaining thcyiinc/irms ofthe various organs in the human frame ;—tacitly assuming, as an in- controvertible truth, that, in proportion to the variety of means by which the same effect is accomplished, the presumption increases, lhat this effect was an end in the contemplation of the artist. " The intention of " nature (says one author) in the formation of the different part8, can " no where be so well learned as from comparative anatomy; that is, u if we would understand physiology, and reason on the functions ofthe ■• animal economy, we must see how the same end is brought about in * Inquiry into the Nature ofthe Human Soul, Vol. I. p. 136. (3d ed.) The following passage from an old English divine may be of use for the farther illustration of this argument. I quote it with ihe greater confidence, as I find that the most eminent and original physiologist of ihe present age CM.Cuvier) has been led, by his enlightened researches concerning the laws of the animal econo- my, into a train of thinking strikingly similar. " Man is always mending and altering his works ; but nature observes not the same tenor, because her works are so perfect, that there is no place for amend. ments, nothing that can be reprehended. The most sagacious men in so many ages have not been able to find any flaw in these divinely contrived and formed ma- chines ; no blot or error in this great volume of the world, as if any thing had been an imperfect essay at the first; nothing that can be altered for the better: nothing but if it were al'ered would be marred. Tins could not have been, had man's body been the work of chance, and not counsel and providence. Why should there be constantly the same parts ? Why should they retain constantly the same places ? Nothing so contrary as constancy and chance. Should 1 see a man throw the same number a thousand times together upon but three dice, could you per- suade me that this were accidental, and that there was no necessary cause for it ? How much more incredible then is it, that constancy in such a variety, such a mul- tiplicity of parts, should be the result of chance ? Neither yet can these works be the effects of Necessity or Fa'e, for then there would he the same constancy ob- served in the smaller as well as in the larger parts and vessels; whereas there we see nature doth, as it were, sport itself, the minute ramifications of all the vessels, veins, arteries, and nerves, infinitely varying in individuals of the same species, so that tbey are not in any two alike. (Ray's Wisdom ot Cod in the Creation.; * Nature (says Cuvier) while confining herself strictly within those limits, which the conditions necessary for existence prescribed to her, has yielded to her sponta- neous fecundity wherever these conditions did not limit her operations ; and with- out ever passing beyond the small number of combinations, that can be realized in the essential modifications of the important organs, she seems to have given full scope to her fancy in filling up the subordinate parts. With respect to these, it is not inquired, whether an individual form, whether a particular arrangement be ne- cessary ; it seems often not to have been asked, whether it be even useful, in order to reduce it to practice; it is sufficient that it be possible, that it destroys not the harmony of the whole. Accordingly, as we recede from the principal organs, and approach to those of less importance, the varieties in structure and appearance be- come more numerous ; and when we arrive at the surface of the body, where the parts the least es ential, and whose injuries are the least momentous, are necessarily placed, the nuniber of varieties is so great, that the conjoined labours of naturalists have not yet been able to give us an adequate idea of them." Lecons d'Anatomic Comparee.) WCt. VI.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 237 " other species —We must contemplate the part or organ in different " animals ; its shape, position, and connexion with the other parts ; and observe what thence arises. If we find one common effect constant- " ly produced, though in a very different way, we may safely conclude " that this is the use or function ofthe part.—This reasoning can never betray us, if we are but sure ofthe facts."* The celebrated Albinus expresses himself to the same purpose in his preface to Harvey's Exercitalio de Motu Cordis. " Incidenda autem " animalia, quibus parte illaequarum actiones quaerimus eaedem atques " homini sunt, aut certe similes iis ; ex quibus sine metu erroris judicare " de illis hominis liceat. Quiu et reliqua, si modo aliquam habeant ad " hominem similitudinem, idonea sunt ad aliquod suppeditandum." If Bacon had lived to read such testimonies as these in favour ofthe investigation of Final Causes; or had witnessed the discoveries to which it has led iu the study of the animal economy, he would, I doubt not, have readily admitted, that it was not altogether uninteresting and un- profitable, even to the physical inquirer. Such, however,is the influence of an illustrious name, that, in direct opposition to the evidence of histo- rical facts, the assertion ofthe complete sterility of all these speculations is, to the present day, repeated, with undiminished confidence, by writ- ers of unquestionable learning and talents. In one of the most noted physiological works which have lately appeared on the continent, Ba. con's apothegm is cited more than once with unqualified approbation ; although the author candidly owns, that it is difficult for the most re- served philosopher always to keep it steadily in view, in the course of his inquiries.t The prejudice against final causes, so generally avowed by the most eminent philosophers of France, during the eighteenth century, was first introduced into that country by Des Cartes. It must not however, be imagined, lhat, in the mind of this great man, it arose from any bias to- wards atheism. On the contrary, he himself tells us, that his objection to the reseach of uses or ends, was founded entirely on the presumptuous confidence which it seemed to argue in the powers of human reason ; as if it were conceivable, that the limited faculties of man could penetrate into the counsels of Divine wisdom. Of the existence of God he con- ceived that a demonstrative proof was afforded by the idea we are able to form of a Being infinitely perfect, and necessarily existing; and it has with some probability been conjectured, that it was his partiality to this new argument of his own, which led him to reject the reasonings of his predecessors in support ofthe same conclusion."}: * Letter by an anonymous Correspondent, prefixed to Monro's Comparative Anatomy, London, 1744. ■j- " Je regarde, avec le grand Bacon, la philosophic des causes finales comme sterile : mais il est bien difficile a l'homme le plus reserve^ de n'y avoir jamais recours dans ses explications." (Rapports du Physique et du Moral de l'Homme. Par M. le Senateur Cabanis. Tome I. p. 352. Paris, 1805. $ " Nullas unquam rationes circa res naturales o fine, quam Deus aut natura in iis faciendis sibi proposuit, desumemus ; quia non tantum debemus nobis arrogare ut ejus consiliorum participes nos esse putemus." (Princip. Pars. I. §28.) "Dum haec perpendo attentius, occurrit primo non mihi esse mirandum si quaedam a Deo fiant quorum rationes non intelligam ; nee de ejus existentia ideo esse dubi- 238 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IT. To this objection of Des Carles, an elaborate, and, in my opinion, a most satisfactory reply, is to be found in ihe works of Mr. Boyle. The principal scope of his essay may be collected Irom the following short extract. •• Suppose that a countryman, being in a clear day brought into the " garden of some famous mathematician, should see there one of those " curious gnomonic instruments, that shew al once the place ofthe sun " in the zodiac, his declination from the equator, the day of the month, '-' the length ofthe day, &c. &c It would indeed be presumption in him, •• being unacquainted both with the mathematical disciplines, and the 11 several intentions ofthe artist, to pretend or think himself able to dis- " cover all the ends for which so curious and elaborate a piece was fram- " ed : but when he sees it furnished with a style, with horary lines and " numbers, and in short with all the requisites of a sun-dial, aud mani- " festly perceives the shadow to matk from time to time the hour ofthe " day, it would be no more a presumption than an error in him to con- " elude, that (whatever other uses the instrument was fit or was de- " signed for) it is a sun-dial, that was meant to shew the hour of the « day."* With this opinion of Boyle that of Newton so entirely coincided, that (according to Maclaurin) he thought the consideration of final causes essential lo true philosophy: and was accustomed to congratulate him- self on the effoct of his writings in reviving an attention to them, after the attempt of Des Carles to discard them from physics. On this occa- sion, Maclaurin has remarked "that of all sort of causes, fi al onuses " are the most clearly placed in our view ; and that it is difficult to " comprehend, why it should be thought arrogmit to attend to the de- " sign and contrivance that is so evidently displayed in nature, and ob- " vions to all men;—to maintain, for instance, that the eye vvaj made " for seeing, though we may not be able either to account mechanically " for the refraction of light in its coats, or to explain hou the imag»> is " propagated from the retina to the mind."I"—It is iNewtoii-'s own lan- tandum, quod forte quacdam alia esse experiar quae, qunre, vel quomo > -A. Ho facta sint non comprehendo: cum enim jam sciam nature in meain esse vaUle infir- mam et limitatam, Dei autem'naturam esse immensam, inciimpreii(.ns.-, quorum caiisas ignorem ; atque ob hanc unicam rationem tottum illud causarum genus, quod a fine peti solet in rebus physicis, nullum usum habere existimo ,- non enim absque temeritate me puto posse investigare fines Dei." (Meditalis Quarta.) See note (BB.) * In tbe same essay, Mr. Boyle has offered some very judicious strictures on the abuses to which the research of final causes is liable, when incautiously and presumptuously pursued. An abstract of these, accompanied with a few illustra. tions from later writers, might form an interesting chapter in a treatise of induc- tive logic. The subject has been since prosecuted with considerable ingenuity by Le Sage of Geneva, who has even attempted (and not altogether without success) to lay down logical rules for the investigation of ends. To this study, which he was anxious to form into a separate science, he gave the very ill chosen name of Tele - ologie ; a name, if 1 am not mistaken, first suggested by Wolfius.—For, some valu- able fragments of his intended work with respect to it, see the Account of his Life and Writings by his friend M. Prevost. (Geneva, 1805.) ■-Account of Newton's Philosophical Discoveries, Book I. Chap. ii. Sect. VI.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 239 guage, however, which alone can do justice to his sentiments on the present subject. " The main business of natural philosophy is to argue from phenome- " na, without feigning hypotheses, and to deduce causes from effects " till we come to the very first cause; which certainly is not mechanical; tf and not only to unfold the mechanism ofthe world, but chiefly to re- " solve these and such like questions: Whence is it that Nature does " nothing in vain; and whence arises all that order and beauty which •' we see in the world?—How came the bodies of animals to be contrived " with so much art, and for what ends were their several parts ? Was the " eye contrived without skill in optics, and the ear without knowledge of " sounds?"* In multiplying these quotations, T am well aware lhat authorities are not arguments; but when a prejudice, to which authority alone has given currency, is to be combated, what other refutation is likely to be effectual ? After all, it were to be wished that the scholastic phrase final cause could, without affectation, be dropped from our philosophical vocabula- ry ; and some in^re unexceptionable mode of speaking substituted in- stead of it. In this elementary work, I have not presumed to lay aside entirely a form of expression consecrated in the writings of Newton, and of his most eminent followers; but I am fully sensible of its impro- priety, and am not without hopes that I may contribute something to encourage the grud jal disuse of it, by the indiscriminate employment of the words ends and uses to convey the same idea. Little more perhaps than thegervval adoption of one or other of these terms is necessary to brins: candid an* reflecting minds to a uniformity of language as well as ofsenliinent on the point in question. It was before observed, wit:1 ie«p^ct to anatomist?, lhat all of them without exception, whether professedly friendly or hostile to the inqui- sition of final cai*ses, concur in availing themselves of its guidance in their physiological researches. A similar remark will be found to apply to oth< t classes of scientific inquirers. Whatever their specu- lative opinions may be, the moment their curiosity is fairly engaged in the pursuit of truth, eirher physical or moral, they involuntarily, and often perhaps unconsciously, submit their understandings to a logic borrowed neither from the schools of Aristotle nor of Bacon. The ethic- al system (for example) of those ancient philosophers who held that Vir- tue consists in following Nature, not only involves a recognition of final causes, but represents the study of them, in as far as regards the ends ahd destination of our own being, as the great business and duty of life.t The system too of those physicians who profess to follow Nature in the treatment of diseases, by watching and aiding her medicative powers, assumes the same doctrine as its fundamental principle. A still more re- markable illustration, however, of the influence which this species of evidence has over the belief, even when we are the least aware of its connexion with metaphysical conclusions, occurs in the history of the * Newton's Optics, Query 28. \ <■« Discite, O miseri, et causas cognoscite rerum, Quid sumus et quidnam virturi giguimur.*' Persius. Eyu 9t ti povXepxf xxTXft.x9ta rt,i vTti. kxi t**tij irtrSxt Epictet. 210 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. IV. French Economical System. Ofthe comprehensive and elevated views which at first suggested it, the title of Physiocratie, by which it was ear- ly distinguished, affords a strong presumptive proof; and the same thing is more fully demonstrated, by the frequent recurrence made in it to the physical and moral laws of Nature, as the unerring standard which the legislator should keep in view in all his positive institutions.* I do^iot speak at present of the justness of these opinions. I wish ouly to re- mark, that, in the statement of them given by their original authors, it is taken for granted as a truth self-evident and indisputable, not merely that benevolent design is manifested in all the physical and moral ar- rangements is indispensably necessary to lay a solid foundation for po- litical science. The same principles appear to have led Mr. Smith into that train of thinking which gave birth to his enquiries concerning National Wealth. " Man (he observes in one of his oldest manuscripts now extant) is gene- " rally considered by statesmen and projectors as the materials of a " sort of political mechanics. Projectors disturb Nature in the course of " her operations in human affairs; and it requires no more than to let u her alone, and give her fair play in the pursuit of her own designs." —And in another passage: " Little else is requisite to carry a state to " the highest degree of opulence from the lowest barbarism, but peace, " easy taxes, and a tolerable administration of justice; all the rest be- " ing brought about by the natural course of things. All governments "which thwart this natural course; which force things into another "channel; or which endeavour to arrest the progress of society at a " particular point, are unnatural, and to support themselves are obliged " to be oppressive and tyrannical."t Various other passages of a simi- lar import might be quoted, both from his Wealth of Nations, and from his Theory of Moral Sentiments. This doctrine of Smith and Quesnay, which tends to simplify the the- ory of legislation, by exploding the policy of those complicated checks and restraints which swell the municipal codes of most nations, has now, I believe, become the prevailing creed of thinking men all over Europe: and, as commonly happens to prevailing creeds, has been pushed by many of its partisans far beyond the views and intentions of ils original authors. Such too is the effect of fashion, on the one hand, and of obnoxious phrases on the other, that it has found some of its most zealous abettors and propagators among writers who would, with- out a moment's hesitation, have rejected- as puerile and superstitious, any reference to final causes iu a philosophical discussion. ♦Ces lois forment ensemble ce qa'on appelle la loi naturelle. Tous les hommes et toutes les puissances humaines doivent etre sounds a ces loix souveraines, insti- tutes par l'etre supreme ; elles sont immuables et irrefiagibles, et les meilleurs loix possibles ; et par consequent, la base du gouvernement le plus parfait, et la regie fondamentale de toutes les loix positives; car les loix positives ne sont que des loix de manutention relatives a l'ordre naturel evidemment le plus avanta- gcux au genre humain."—Quesnay. f Biographical memoirs of Smith, Robertson, and Reid, p. 100. Sect, VI.] OF THE HUMAN MIND. 241 II. Danger of confounding Final with Physical Causes in the Philosophy of the Human Mind. Having said so much upon the research of Final causes in Physics, properly so called. I shall subjoin a few remarks on its application to the philosophy ofthe human mind ;—a science in which the just rules of in- vestigation are as yet far from being generally understood. Of this no stronger proof can be produced, than the confusion between final and efficient causes, which perpetually recurs in the writings of our latest and most eminent moralists. The same confusion, as I have already ob- served, prevailed in the physical reasonings of the Aristotelians; but, since the time of Bacon, has been so completely corrected, that, in the wildest theories of modern naturalists, hardly a vestige of it is to be traced. To the logical error just mentioned it is owing, that so many false accounts have been given ofthe principles of human conduct, or ofthe motives by which men are stimulated to action. When the general laws of our internal frame are attentively examined, they will be found to have for their object the happiness and improvement both ofthe indi- vidual and of society. This is their Final Cause, or the end for which we may presume they were destined by our Maker. But, in such cases, it seldom happens, that, while man is obeying the active impulses of his nature, he has any idea ofthe ultimate ends which he is promoting; or is able to calculate the remote effects ofthe movements which he im- presses on the little wheels around him. These active impulses, there- fore, may, in one sense, be considered as the efficient causes of his con- duct in as much as they are the means employed to determine him to particular pursuits and habits; and as they operate (in the^rs^instance, at least,) without any reflection on his part on the purposes to which they are subservient. Philosophers, however, have in every age been extremely apt to conclude, when they had discovered the salutary ten- dency of any active principle, that it was from a sense or foreknowledge of this tendency that the principle derived its-origin. Hence have arisen tbe theories which gttempt to account for all our actions from self-love; and also those which would resolve the whole of morality, either into political views of general expediency, or into an enlightened regard to our own best interests. I do not know of any author who has been so completely aware of this common error as Mr. Smith. In examining the principles con- nected with our moral constitution, he always treats separately oftheir final causes, and ofthe mechanism (as he calls it) by which nature ac- complishes the effect; and he has even been at pains to point out to his successors the great importance of attending to the distinction between these two speculations —'• In every part of the universe, we observe " means adjusted with the nicest artifice to the ends whicb they are in- " tended to produce; and in the mechanism of a plant or animal body, " admire how every thing is contrived for advancing the two great pur- " poses of nature, the support ofthe individual, and the propagation of " the species. But in these, and in all such objects, we still distinguish *•'< the efficient from the final cause of their several motions and organ- vol. n. 31 242 RLEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY [chap. 1\ " izations. The dit-vstion ofthe food, the circulation ofthe blood, and u the secretion ofthe s'j*'0 ELEMENTS OF THE PHILOSOPHY, 6iC. enjoyed, in distant prospect, that promised land which he himself waf not permitted to enter.* The effect of this prophetic imagination in clothing his idea?, to a greater degree than a severe logician may approve, with the glowing colours of a poetical diction, was unavoidable. The wonder is, that his style is so seldom chargeable with vagueness and obscurity; nnd that he has been able to bequeath to posterity "so many cardinal and eternal truths, to which the progressive light of science is everyday adding a new accession of lustre. Of these truths, however, (invaluable in themselves as heads of lexis, pregnant with thought) many,—to bor- row the expression of a Greek poet,—sound only to tlie intelligent; while others present those confident but indefinite anticipations of in- tellectual regions yet undiscovered, which, though admirably calculat- ed to keep alive and lo nourish the ardour of the man of science, are more fitted loawaken the enthusiasm, than to direct the studies of youth. Some of them, at the same time, (and these, I apprehend, cannot be too early impressed on ihe memory) are singularly adapted to enlarge and to elevate the conceptions ; exhibiting those magnificent views of know- ledge, which, by identifying its progress in the enlargement of human power and of human happiness, ennoble the humblest exertions of lite- rary industry, and annihilate, before the triumphs of genius, the most dazzling objects of vulgar ambition.—A judicious selection of such pas- sages, and of some general and striking aphorisms from the Novum Or- ganon, would form a useful manual for animating the academical tasks ofthe student ; and for gradually conducting him from the level ofthe subordinate sciences, to the vantage-ground of a higher philosophy. Unwilling as I am to touch on a topic so hopeless as that of Academi- cal Reform, I cannot dismiss this subject, without remarking, as a fact which at some future period will figure in literary history, thai iwo hundred years after ihe date of Bacon's philosophical works, the anti- quated routine of study, originally prescribed in times of scholastic bar- barism and of popish superstition, should, in so many Universities, be still suffered to stand iu the way of improvements, recommended at once by the present slate of the sciences, and by the order which na- ture follows in developing the intellectual faculties. On this subject, however, I forbear to enlarge.—Obstacles of which I am not aware may perhaps render any considerable innovations impracticable ; and, in the meantime, it would be vain to speculate on ideal projects, while the prospect of realizing them is so distant and uncertain. * See Cowley's Ode, prefixed to Sprat's History of the Royal Society. " In rebus quibiiscunque ditficilioribus, non expectandiuu e»t ut quis simul et serai et meUt; sed praeparatione opus est, ut per gradus nialurescuiit.—lia- con. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. Note (A.) page 27. V-r F the fault in Euclid's arrangement which I have here remarked, some of the ancient editors were plainly aware, as they removed the two theorems in question from the class of axioms, and placed them, with at least an equal im- propriety, in that of postulates. " In quibusdam codicibus (says Dr. Gregory) Axiomata 10 et 11 inter postulata numerantur." (Euclidis quae supersunt om- nia. Ex Recens. Dav. Gregorii. Oxon. 1703. p. 3.) The 8th Axiom too in Euclid's enumeration is evidently out of its proper place. K«/ tx epxgfco^ovrx sir' x\\i)\x io-x aAAjjAar? so-ti :—thus trans- lated by Dr. Simpson ; Magnitudes which coincide with one another, that is. which exactly fill the same space, are equal to one another." This, in truth. is not an axiom, but a definition. It is the definition of geometrical equality ; the fundamental principle upon which the comparison of all geometrical mag- nitudes will be found ultimately to depend. For some of these slight logical defects in the arrangement of Euclid's defini- nitions aud axioms, an ingenious, and, I think, a solid apology has been offered by M. Prevost, in his Essais de Philosophic. According to this author, (if I rightly understand his meaning) Euclid was himself fully aware of the object- ions to which this part of his work is liable ; but found it impossible to obviate them, without incurring the still greater inconvenience of either departing from those modes of proof which he had resolved to employ exclusively in the composition of his Elements;* or of revolting the student, at his first outset, by- prolix and circuitous demonstrations of manifest and indisputable truths. I shall distingnish by Italics, in the following quotation, the clauses to which I wish more particularly to direct the attention of my readers. " C'est done l'imperfection (peut-etre inevitable) de nos conceptions, qui a " engage a faire entrer les axiomes pour quelque chose dans les principes des " sciences de raisonnement pur. Et ils y font un double office. Les uns rem- •' placent des definitions. Les autres remplacent des propositions susceptibles " d'etre dGmontrees. J'en donnerai des exemples tires des Elemens d'Euclide. •' Les axiomes romplacent quelquefois des definitions tres faciles a faire, " comme celle du mot tout. (El. Ax. 9.) D^autres suppUent d certainez difini- " tions difficilez et qu'on cvitc, comme cclles de la ligne droit et de Pangle. " Quelques axiomes remplacent des theoremes. J'ignore si (dans les princi- ■' pes d'Euclide) l'axiome 11. peut-etre demontre (comme I'ont cru Proclus et •' tant d'autres anciens et modernes.) Sil peut Petre, cet axiome, supplee d une " demonstration problament laborieuse- " Puisque les axiomes ne font autre office que suppleer a des definitions et a. ••des tb6orcmes, on demandera peut-etre qu'on s'en passe. " Observons 1. " Quails tvitent souvent des longueurs inutiles. 2. Qu'ils tranchent les disputes d *■' Plpoque mime ou la science est imparfaite. 3. Que sHl est un Stat, auquel la «•« science puisse s'en passer (ce queje ri'affieme point j il est du moins sage,et meme " indispensable, de les employer, teant que quelque insuffisance, dans ce dlgrl de " perfection ou Pontend, interdit un odre absolument irrlproachable. Ajoutons •« 4. Que dans chaque scienceil y a ordinairement un principe qu'on pourroit * By introdticinp, for example, the idea of Motion, which he hai studied to avoid,ai much ai possible, in delivering the Elements of Plane Geometry. 252 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATION*. " appeler dominant, et quit par cette raison seule, et (independammrnt de eel " les que je vieus d'alleguer) a paru devoir etre sorti, pour ainsi dire, du champ " des definition* pour etre mis eD vue sous forme d*axiome. Tel nic paroit cin " en g^ometrie le principe de congruence contenu dans le 8 axiome d'Eu- clide." (Essais de Philosophic, torn. ii. pp. 30, 31, 32.) These remarks go far, in my opinion, towards a justification of Euclid for the latitude with which he has used the word axiom in his Elements As in treat- ing, however, of the fundamental laws of human belief, the utmost possible pre cisioo of language is indispensably necessary, I must beg leave once more to remind my readers, that in. denying Axioms to be the first principles of reason- ing in mathematics, 1 restrict the meaning of that word to such as are analogous to the first seven in Euclid's list, l/icke, in what he has written on the sub- ject, has plainly understood the word iu the same limited sense. Note (B.) p. t;\ The prevalence in India of an opinion bearing some resemblance to the llerke- leiao Theory- may be urged as an objection to the reasoning in the text; but tbe fact is that this resemblance is much slighter than has been generally ap- prehended. See Philosophical Essays, pp. 81, 82, et seq.) On this point tbe following passage from Sir William Joues is decisive ; and the more so, that he himself has fallen into the common mistake of identifying the Hindu Belief wUh the conclusions of Berkeley and Hume. " The fundamental tenet of the trid6nti school consisted, not in denying the " existence of matter, that is, of solidity, impenetrability, and extended figure, {to 41 deny which would be lunacy,) but in correcting the popular notion of it, and in 44 contending, that it has no essence independent of mental perception, that 44 existence and perceptibility are convertible terms, that external appearances 44 and sensations are illusory, and would vanish into nothing, if the divine energy., "which alone sustains them, were suspended but for a moment;* an opinion, 44 which Epicharmus and Plato seem to hare adopted, and which has been 44 maintained in the present century with great elegance, but with little public 44 applause: partly because it has been misunderstood, and partly because it 41 has been misapplied by the false reasoning of some unpopular writers, who 44 are said to have disbelieved in the moral attributes of God, whose otnniprc- 44 sence, wisdom, and goodness, arc the basis of the Indian philosopliy. I have 44 not sufficient evidence on this subject to profess a belief in Ihe doctrine of the «4 Vid&nti, which human reason alone could, perhaps, neither fully demonstrate, 44 nor fully'disprove ; but it is manifest, that nothing can be farther removed 44 from impiety than a system wholly built un the purest devbtioo." (Works of Sir William Jones. Vol. I, pp. 165,166.) From these observations (in some of which I must be permitted to say, there is a good deal of indistinctness, and even of contradiction,) it may on the whole be inferred, 1. Thatio the tenets ofthe Yedanti school, however different from the first apprehensions ofthe unreflecting mind, tliere was nothing inconsistent witb the fundamental laws of human belief, any mare than in the doctrine of Copernicus concerning the earth's motion. 2. That these tenets were rather articles of a theological creed, than of a philosophical system; or at least, that the two were so blended together, as sufficiently to account for the bold which, independently of any refined reasoning, they had taken on tbe popular belief. In this last conclusion 1 am strongly coufirmed, by a letter which I had the pleasure of receiving, a few years ago, from my friend Sir James Mackintosh, then recorder of Bombay. His good nature will, I trust, pardon the liberty I * Sir IVi'.liam Jone? here evident'/ confound* ihe system which represents the maieri*! uiiiver^, a* nol only at "rutfwta/, nul is »-verv inoimnt ttptietd by ihe r>£ nry of Divine P >wer withihm ol Berkeley and Hume, which denyin^the divtinriionbetween piinriary and secondary qualities astern, that extension, fi;;uie, Hnd impenetrability are nul le»» inconceiv- Able without a jtercipirnt mind, than our sensations of heal and cold, sounds and odours. Ac- cording lo boih systems, il may undoubtedly be said that the material universe bus no evid- ence independent ofmiW ; but, it ought not to be overlooked, thai in tbe one, this woit) refer*: to the Crea'.or, and iu ihe other, lo the created percipieu*. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 253 take in mentioning his name upon the present occasion, as I wish to add to the following very curious extract, the authority of so enlightened and philosopica! an observer.—Amidst the variety of his other important engagements, it is to be hoped the results of his literary researches and speculations, while in the East, will not be lost to the world. • • . . . . '41 had yesterday a conversation with a young Bramin of no xi great learning, the son ofthe Pundit (or assessor for Hindu law) of my court. •' He told me, mat besides the myriads of gods whom their creed admits, there f was one. whom they know by the name of Brim, or the great one, without ** form or limits, whom no created intellect could make any approach towards 44 conceiving; that in reality, there were no trees, no houses, no land, no sea, 44 but all without was Maia, or illusion ; the act of Brim ; that whatever we saw " or felt was only a dream, or, as he expressed it in his imperfect English, tbink- 44 ing in one's sleep, and that the reunion of tbe soul to Brim, from whom it 44 originally sprung, was the awakening from the long sleep of finite existence. " All this you have heard and read before as Hindu speculation. What struck " me was, that speculations so refined and abstruse should, in a long course of 14 ages, have fallen through so great a space as that which separates the genius 44 of their original inventor from the mind of this weak and unlettered man. The ''names of these inventors have perished; but their ingenious and beautiful " theories, blended with the most monstrous superstitions, have descended to •' men very little exalted above the most ignorant populace, and are adopted " by them as a sort of articles of faith, without a suspicion of their philosophical ■• origin, and without the possibility of comprehending any part ofthe premises " from which they were deduced. I intend to investigate a little the history of " these opinions, fori am not altogether without apprehension, that we may all 44 the while be mistaking the hyperbolical effusions of mystical piety, for the " technical language of a philosophical system. Nothing is more usual, than for 44 fervent devotion to dwell so long and so warmly on the meanness and worth-* " lessness of created things, and on the all-sufficiency ofthe Supreme Being, 44 that it slides insensibly from comparative to absolute language, and, in the *' eagerness of its zeal, to magnify the Deity, seems to annihilate every thing 44 else. To distinguish between the very different import of the same words in " tbe mouth of a mystic and of a sceptic, requires more philosophical discrimi- •' nation than most of our Sanscrit investigators have hitherto shewn." Note (C.) page 48. The private correspondence here alluded to, was between Mr. Hume and the late Sir Gilbert Elliot; a gentleman who seems to have united, with his other well known talents and accomplishments, a taste for abstract disquisitions, which rarely occurs in men of the world; accompanied with that soundness and temperance of judgment which, in such researches, are so indispensably neces- sary to guard the mind against the illusions engendered by its own subtilty. In . one of his letters (of wliich the original draft in his own hand-writing was com- municated to me by the Earl of Minto,) he expresses himself thus :* . - . . 44 1 admit, that there is no writing or talking of any subject which is ** of importance enough to become the object of reasoning, without having re- " course to some degree of subtilty and refinement. The only question is, '■ where to stop, how far we can go, and why no farther? To this question I " should be extremely happy to receive a satisfactory answer. I can't tell if I •' shall rightly express what I have just now in my mind ; but I often imagine >• to rnvself, that 1 perceive within me a certain instinctive feeling, which shoves 44 away at once all over subtile refinements, and tells me, with authority, that " these air-built notions are inconsistent with life and experience, and by con- ■' sequence cannot be true or solid. From this I am led to think, that the ■' speculative principles of our nature ought to go hand in hand with thepracti- •' cal ones ; and for my own part, when the former are so far pushed, as to leave .' ihe latter quite oat of sight, I am always apt to suspect that we have trans k The leltpr is dated in 175L 251 MMI'S AM) ILI.l'sT/RATION4**. "grcssed our limits. If it should be asked, how far will these practical priori- 14 pies go ? I can only answer, that the former difficulty will recur, unless it be 14 found, that there is something in the intellectual part of our nature, resembling 44 the moral sentiment in the moral part of our nature, which determines thir,, 44 as it were, instinctively. Very possibly, I have wrote nonsense: However, 14 this notion first occurred to me at London, in conversation with a man of some 44 depth of thinking; and talking of it since to your friend Henry Ilomcf I 44 found that be seemed to entertain some notions Dearly of the same kind, and " to have pushed them much further." The practical principles referred to in this extract, seem to mc to correspond very nearly with what I have calledy"u/Me^n anticipated, two h'in«l-*■'! ypnrf n;:o, by Sir Waller Ralegh. " Where 'natural ;,-m'U haih mult ai>> h.in^-n >tronj; airainst it.elf,a« the »ame teasoncun hardly a-».'il ■■ leurh le««- baiter it co«-n ; the wive, in t-very qiie>non ut n.itiue and infiiiilp powei, tna\ >..■ approver" I',' a fundometitd law of human knmrJcd^t " (Prpface to ftileigh'- H -it vol ihe World.) 1 lie c«i:i:'-,'ience in point ol expression, i« not a I it'e cur ion* : l>ui i» nn.c Ii 'e«» viouderful than the cuinci'lence of ihe thought wilh lie sounde-t logical mm ttmioir* ol imp I'i^neenM century.—The very ploq ip-.t and philo. ih<> »'r" ' p ?entenrp. is n#tjj$ ovtix? t<$ tvri. "Thedefi- '• nition of any particular object denoted by the one is precisely the same with 44 the definition of any particular object denoted by the other." (Gillies's Aristotle, Vol. I. p. 87. In order to enable my readers to form a judgment ofthe correctness of this paraphrase, I must quote Aristotle's words, according to his own arrangement, which, in this instance, happens to be directly contrary to that adopted by his interpreter. Eti $t xv o Xoyos o r«$ irtarris ovrixs it? v, otot it trxt •ypctfA/Ltxi tvB-ttxi 'xixvtxi, xxi tx iTet xxi rx iroyattx rtrtxyatx, kxi toi TrXtta xXX' t* tovtoi? 'ii to-ornf 'evort)(. The first clause of this passage is, from its conciseness, obscure; but Aristotle's meaning, on the whole, seems to be this :—44 That all those magnitudes which bear the same •4 ratio to the same magnitude, though in fact they may form a multitude, yet, 44 in a scientific view, they may be regarded as one; the mathematical notion 44 of equality being ultimately resolvable into that oi unity or identity."* It was probably to obviate any difficulty that might have been suggested by di- versities of figure, that Aristotle has confined his examples to equal straight lines, and to such quadrangles as are not only equal but similar. Let us now consider the paraphrase of Dr. Gillies. 4* In mathematical quan- 44 tities, equality is sameness, because the definition of'any particular object de- 14 noted by the one, is precisely the same with the definition of any particular 14 object denoted by the other." Are we to understand by this, that 44 to all 44 things which are equal the same definition is applicable;" or conversely, that 44 all things to which the same definition is applicable, are equal ?" On the former supposition, it would follow, that the same definition is applicable to a circle, and to a triangle having its base equal to the circumference, end its altitude to the radius. On the latter, that all circles are of the same magni- tude ; all squares, and all equilateral triangles.—There is, indeed, one sense whereiu those geometrical figures which are called by the same name, (all cir- cles, for example,) may be identified in the mind ofthe logician ; in as much as any theorem which is proved of one, must equally hold true of all the rest; and the reason of this is assigned, with tolerable correctness, in the last clause of the sentence quoted from Dr. Gillies, but how this reason bears on the question with respect to tbe convertibility ofthe terms equality and sameness, I am at a loss to conjecture. Note (G.) p. 109. Li an Essay on Quantity (by Dr. Reid,) published in the Transactions ofthe Royal Society of London, for the year 1748, mathematics is very correctly de- fined to be 44 the doctrine of measure."—" The object of this science (the au- 44 thor observes) is commonly said to be quantity; in which case, quantity 44 ought to be defined, what may be measured. Those who have defined quan- * Tx irca$ *r« xvto rot xvrot t%ovr« Xoyov, lo-x xXXtjXoig ce-rt. Euc. E pm. Lib. v. Prop, ix, vm.. u. 33 258 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 14 tity to be whatever is capable of more or less, have given too wide a notion 44 of it, which has led some persons to apply mathematical reasoning to subject* " that do not admit of it."* The appropriate objects of this science arc there- fore such things alone as admit not only of being increased and diminished, but of being multiplied and divided. In other words, the common quality which characterizes all cf them is their mensurability. In the same Essay, Dr. Reid has illustrated, with much ingenuity, a distinc- tion (hinted at by Aristotle!) of quantity into proper and improper. 4l I call 44 that fsays he) proper quantity, which is measured by its own hind ; or which, 44 of its own nature, is capable of being doubled or trebled, without taking in 44 any quantity of a different kind as a measure of it. Thus a line is measured 44 by known lines, as inches, feet, or miles ; and the length of a foot being 44 known, there can be no question about the length of two feet, or of any part 44 or multiple of a foot. This known length, by being multiplied or divided, is " sufficient to give us a distinct idea of any length whatsoever. 44 Improper quantity is that which cannot be measured by its own kind, but, 44 to which we assign a measure in some proper quantity that is related to it. 44 Thus velocity of motion, when we consider it by itself, cannot be measured. 44 We may perceive one body to move faster, another slower, but we can per- 44 ceive no proportion or ratio between their velocities, without taking in some 44 quantity of another kind to measure them by. Having therefore observed, 44 that by a greater velocity, a greater space is passed over in the same time, 44 by a less velocity a less space, and by an equal velocity an equal space ; we 44 hence learn to measure velocity by the space passed over in a given time, 14 and to reckon it to be in exact proportion to that; and having once assigned 44 this measure to it, we can then, and not till then, conceive one velocity ex- 44 actly double, or triple, or in any.proportion to another. We can then intro- 44 duce it into mathematical reasoning, without danger of error or confusion ; 44 and may use it as a measure of other improper quantities. 44 All the proper quantities we know may I think be reduced to these four : 44 extension, duration, number, and proportion. 44 Velocity, the quantity of motion, density, elasticity, the vis insita and im- 44 pressa, the various kinds of centripetal forces, and the different orders of 44 fluxions, are all improper quantities; which therefore ought not to be admit- 44 ted into mathematical reasoning, without having a measure of them assigned. 44 The measure of an improper quantity ought always to be included in the 44 definition of it; for it is the giving it a measure that makes it a proper sub- 44 ject of mathematical reasoning. If all mathematicians had considered this, 44 as carefully as Sir Isaac Newton has done, some trouble had been saved both 44 to themselves and their readers. That great man, whose clear and compre- 44 hensive understanding appears even in his definitions, having frequent occa- 44 sion to treat of such improper quantities, never fails to define them, so as to " give a measure of them, either in proper quantities, or such as had a known 44 measure. See the definitions prefixed to his Principia." With these important remarks I entirely agree, excepting only the enumer- ation here given of the different kinds of proper quantity, which is liable to ob- vious and insurmountable objections. It appears to me that, according to Reid's own definition, extension, is the only proper quantity within the circle of our knowledge. Duration is manifestly not measured by duration, in the same manner as a line is measured by a line; but by some regulated motion, as that of the hand of a clock, or of the shadow on a sun-dial. In this respect it is precisely on the same footing with velocities and forces, all of them being measured, in the last result, by extension. As to number and proportion, it * In this remark, Dr. Reid, as appear? from ihe title of his paper, had an eye lo the abuse of mathematical language by Dr. Hutcheson, who had recently carried it >o far at to exhi- bit algebraic*' formulas for ascertaining the moral nierit or demerit of particular attiont (See h:> Lqui-y into tbe Original of our idea* of Beauty and Virtue.) t Kt>f<«; $t Tlorx txvtu. Xtytrxi fcorx, rx is xXXx irxtrx kxtx 0-VfA.frtfar,*t tl( txvtx yxg xirofbXtirsirti, XXI tx xXXx Uso-x XiytfCif. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 259 might be easily shewn that neither of them fall under the definition of quantity, in any sense of that word. In proof of this assertion (which may, at first sight, seem somewhat paradoxical) I have only to refer to the mathematical lectures of Dr. Barrow, and to some very judicious observations introduced by Dr. Clarke in his controversy with Leibnitz. It is remarkable, that at the period when this essay was written, Dr. Reid should have been unacquainted with the speculations of these illustrious men on the same subject; but this detracts little from the merits of his memoir, which rest chiefly on the strictures it con- tains on the controversy between the Newtonians and Leibnitzians concern- ing the measure of forces. Note (H.) p. 109. The following view of the relation between the theorems of pure geometry and their practical applications strikes me as singularly happy and luminous; more especially the ingenious illustration borrowed from the science of geome- try itself. 44 Les vgrites que la geometrieH^montre sur l'gtendue, sont des v€rites pure- "■ ment hypothetiques. Ces v*Srites cependant n'en sont pas moins utiles, eu 44 egard aux consequences pratiques qui en r&sultent. II est aise de le faire " sentir par une comparaison tiree de la geometrie meme. On connoit dans 44 cette science des lignes courbes qui doivent s*approcher continuellement 44 d'une ligne droite, sans la rencontrer jamais, et qui neanmoins, etant tra- 44 cees sur le papier, se confondent sensiblement avec cette ligne droite au 44 bout d'un assez petit espace. II en estde meme des propositions de geome'- "trie; elles sont la limite intellectuelle des vtritts physiques, le terme dont 44 celles-ci peuvent approcher aussi pres qu'on le desire, sans jamais y arriver 44 exactement. Mais si les theoremes malbematiques, n'ont pas rigoureuse- 44 ment lieu dans la nature, ils servent du moins a resoudre, avec une precision 44 suffisante pour la pratique, les diffgrentes questions qu'on peut se proposer 44 sur l'6tenduc. Dans l'univers il n'y a point de cercle parfait; mais plus un 44 cercle approchera de l'etre, plus il approchera des proprietes rigoureuses du 44 cercle parfait que la geometrie demontre; et il peut en approcher a un 44 d^gre suffisant pour notre usage. II en est de meme des autres figures dont 44 la geometrie detaille les proprietfis. Pour demontrer en toute rigueur, les 44 v€rit€s relatives a la figure des corps, on est oblige de supposer dans cette 44 figure une perfection arbitraire qui n'y sauroit etre. En effet, si le cercle, 44 parexcmple, n'est passuppos§ rigoureux, il faudra autant de theoremes dif- " figrens sur le cercle qu'on imaginera de figures diff6rent.es plus ou moins ap- 44 prochantes du cercle parfait; et ces figures elles-memes pourront encore 44 etre absolument hypothetiques, et n'avoir point de modele existant dans la 44 nature. Les lignes qu'on considere dans la geometrie usuelle, ne sont ni 44 parfaitement droites, ni parfaitement courbes; les surfaces ne sont ni par- 44 faitement planes, ni parfaitement curvilignes; mais il est necessaire de les 44 supposer telles, pour arriver a des Veritas fixes et deierminees, dont on puisse 44 faire ensuite l'application plus ou moins exacte aux lignes et aux surfaces 14 physiques."—D'Alembert, Elemens de Philosophie, Article Gtomitrie. * Note (I.) p. 119, From some expressions in this quotation, it would seem that the writer con- sidered it as now established by mathematical demonstration, not only that a provision is made for maintaining the order and the stability of the solar sys- tem ; but that, after certain periods, all the changes arising from the mutual actions ofthe planets, begin again to be repeated over in an invariable and eternal round;—or rather, that all this is the result of the necessary properties of matter and of motion. The truth is, that this assumption is quite unfounded, in point of fact; and that the astronomical discovery in question affords not the slightest analogical presumption in favour oi a moral cycle ;—even on the sup- ' position, that the actions of the human race, and the motions ofthe globe which. they inhabit, were both equally subjected to the law of mechanism. 260 ."NOTES AM> H.l.l sTRATUI.N.s. I shall avail myself of this opportunity to remark further, (hat notwithstand- ing the lustre thrown by the result of La Grange's inveitigations on ihe meta- physical reasoning of Leibnitz against the manus emendatrix of Newton,—this reasoning, when we consider the vagueness of the abstract principle^ on winch it rests, can be regarded in no other light than as a fortunate conjecture on ;i subject where he had neither experience nor analogy for a guide. The follow ing argument is not ill stated by Voltaire; and, in my opinion, is more plausi ble than any thing alleged a priori on the other side nfthe question, b\ Leib- nitz. *' II est trop clair par ('experience, que Dieu a fait des machines pour 44 etre detruites. Nous sommes l'ouvrage de sa sagesse ; ct nous pcribsoin. 44 Pourquoi n'en seroit-il pas de meme du monde ? Leibnitz vent que ce monde 44 soil parfait; mais si Dieu ne I'a forme que pour durer tin ct rlain terns, .-;« 44 perfection consiste alors a ne durer que iu-;'i' a l'in«tant fixe pour mi dibso- 44 lution." Voltaire's Account of Newton's Philosophy. For some excellent observations on these opposite conjectures of ! cibnitz and of Newton, s.-e Edinburgh Review, Vol. XIV. pp. HO, 81. The quotation which gave occasion to the foregoing strictures induces me tv add, before concluding this Note, that whcrlfc*e speak of La Grange's Dtmon- stration of the Stability of the Solar System, it is by no means to be understood that he has proved, by mathematical reasoning, that this system never v ill,' nor ever can come to an end. The amount of his truly sublime discovery is, that the system does not, as Newton imagined, contain within itself, like the workmanship of mortal hands, the elements of its own decay ; and that, there- fore, its final dissolution is to be looked for, nut from the operation of phj t ical causes subjected to the calculations of astronomers, but from the will of that Almighty Being, by whose fiat it was at first called into existence. That tiiis stability is a necessary consequence of the general laws hy ivLeh we find ihe system to be governed, may, indeed, be assumed as a demonstrated proposi- tion; but it must always be remembered, that this necessity ix only hypotheti- cal or conditional, being itself dependent on the continuance of laws, wliich may at pleasure be altered or suspended. The whole of the argument in the text, on the permanence and stability of the order of nature, is manifestly to be understood ivith similar restrictions, ft relates, not to necessary, but to probable truths; not to conclusions by I legist i- cally deduced from abstract principles, but to future conlingencies, which we are determined to expect by a fundamental law of belief, adapted to the present scene of our speculations and actions. iNOTE (K.) p. 122. 44 The power ot designating an individual object by an appropriate articula- *4 tion, is a necessary step in the formation of language, but very far removed 44 indeed from its consummation. Without the use of general signs, the si» cch 44 of man would differ little from that of brutes: and the transition to tbe gene- 44 ral term from the name of the individual is a difficulty which remains still to 44 be surmounted. Condillac, indeed, proposes to shew, how this transition 44 may be made in the natural course of things. 4Un enfant appelle du nom 44 d'arbrc le premier arbrt que nous lui montrons. Un second arbre qu'il voit 44 ensuite lui rappelle la meme idee ; il lui donne le inline nom ; de meme a un 44 troisieme, aun quatrieme, et voila le mot d'arhre, donne d'abord a nn indi- 44 vidu, qui devient pour lui un nom de classe ou de genre, une idee absrraitc 44 qui comprend tous lesarbres en general.' In like manner, Mr. Adam Smith, 44 in his Dissertation on the Origin of Languages, and Mr. Dugald Mewart, in 44 his Elements ofthe Philosophy ofthe Human Mind, endeavour to explain this 44 process, by representing those words which were originally used as th'' 44 proper names of individuals, to be successively transferred to other individu- 44 als, until at length each of them became insensibly the common name of a 44 multitude. This, however, is more ingenious than solid. The name given 44 to an individual, being intended exclusively lo designate that individual, it is 44 a direct subversion of its very nature and design to apply it to any other iu* '■'■ dividual, known to be different from the former. The child, it is true, may NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 261 '' give the1 name of father to an individual like to the person it has been taught \t ° calI.°y that name: but this is from mistake, not from design ; from the 44 confusion ofthe two as the same person, and not from a perception of resem- blance between them whilst known to be different. In truth, they whose 44 thoughts are occupied solely about individual objects, must be the more care- ful to distinguish them from each other; and accordingly, the child will 44 most peremptorily retract the appellation of father, so soon as the distinct- ness is observed.* The object with those whose terms or signs refer only to l1dZluS' mUSt naturall3' be to take care, that every such term or sign 44 shall be applied to its appropriate individual, and to none else. Resemblance '' can produce no other effect, than to enforce a greater caution in the appli- " cation of the particular names, and therefore has no natural tendency to lead 44 the mind to the use of general terms." Discourses and Dissertations on the Scriptural Doctrines of Atonement and Sacrifice. By William Magee, D D Senior Fellow of Trinity College, and Professor of Mathematics in the Uni- versity of Dublin. Vol. II. pp. 63, 64, 3d edit. The observations in pp. 122, 123, &c. of this volume, (to which I must re- quest the attention of my readers before they proceed to the following remarks) appear to me to weaken considerably the force of this reasoning, as far as it applies to the substance ofthe theory in question. With respect to Mr. Smith's illustration, drawn from tbe accident of a child's calling a stranger by the name offither, I readily acknowledge that it was unluckily chosen ; and I perfectly assent to the strictures bestowed on it by Dr. Magee. In consequence of the habitual intercourse which this domestic relation naturally keeps up between the parties, the mistake of the child (as Dr. Magee very properly calls it) must, of course, be immediately corrected ; and therefore, the example is of no use whatever in confirming the conclusion it is brought to support. It is to be re- gretted that, upon this occasion, Mr. Smith should not only have appealed to a period of infancy, when the notions of similarity and of identity, cannot fail to be sometimes one and the same ; but should have assumed, as a general fact an accidental occurrence, which, if it ever has happened, may be justly re- garded as an exception to the usual history of the species. While yet on the breast, a child is able to distinguish with the utmost quickness and accuracy, between the face of an acquaintance and that of a stranger ; and, when it is so far advanced, as to begin to utter articulate sounds, any tendency to transfer or to generalize the words mother or nurse seems scarcely conceivable. We are apt to suppose that the first attempts towards speech are coeval with the study of language ; whereas the fact manifestly is, that these attempts are only the consequences of the progress previously and silently made in the interpre- tation of words. Long before this time, many of the logical difficulties which appear so puzzling to the speculative grammarian, have been completely sur- mounted, f But although this particular example has been ill chosen, it does not there- fore follow that the author's theory is altogether unfounded. Whoever has paid any attention to the phenomena of the infant mind, must be satisfied of its strong bias, in the first developement of the intellectual powers, to apply to si- * These remarks have a pailicular refeience lo (he following sentence in Mr. Smith's Dii»ertation : " A child that is just learning to speak, calls every person who comes to the hnii" its papa or iis mama ; and thus I estows upon the « hoie species these names which it had heen laujjtit to apply to two ;ndi' idnals. t I be general /act with respect t<> chi'd:en, assumed by Mr. Smith in ihe foregoti'g note, is tMtril siiII more strongly hy Aristotle. Bulb. o('the>e philosopher* hive, I suspect, trust- ed in-we, in thi- inManre, io theory than to observation. Jfixi txttxi&IXTo fiiv 7rpa>r«t Tpoo-xytifvei iravrxt rovs xvipxs, icxTtfxv xxi purepxg, rx% yvixtxxi' VTTtpot dt Olopl%si tovtuv (t)XTcpi¥. « Ac puei i quo(|iie primum omnes vims «p. p»hc • • .',*: .»->.i".- niiili-'reviiatres : postea vero discernunt horum utrumque." (Aibt. Nai. *u«c. Lib I. Cap. i ) This passage (which 1 do not recollect to have see- quoted by any former writer) does honour to Aristotle's acuteness. The fact, indeed, asserted in it, is more than questiona- ble ; but, admitting ihe fact to be true, ii most be owned that Arisiotle has viewed it in a juiter light than Mr. Smith ;—not as an instance of any disposition lo generalize proper names; but merelv of imperfect and undistinguishing perception 262 NOTES AfVD ILLUSTRATIONS. milar objects a common name, without ever thinking of confounding them to- gether.—Nor does this hold merely with respect to similar objects ; it holds al- so (and at a surprisingly early period of life) with respect to similar rotations. A child who has been accustomed to the constant attentions and caresses of its mother, when it sees another child in the arms of its nurse, will naturally and infallibly call the nurse the child's mother. In this instance, aain numberless others, its error arises from generalizing too hastily ;—the distinction between tbe meanings of the two relative words Mother and Nurse being too complex to be comprehended, till the power of observation begins to be exercised with some degree of attention and accuracy. This disposition, however, to transfer names from one thing to another, the diversity of which is obvious even to sense, certainly affords no inconsiderable an argument in favour of the opinion disputed by Dr. Magee, It is indeed, wonderful, how readily children transfer or generalize the name of the maternal relation (that which of all others must necessarily impress their minds most strongly) not only in the case of their own species, but ofthe lower animals ; applying with little or no aid from instruction, the word mother to the hen, the sheep, or the cow, whom they see employed in nurturing and che- rishing their young. To myself, I own, it appears, that the theory of Condillac and Smith on this point, is confirmed by every thing 1 have been able to observe of children.— Even generic terms will be found, on examination, if 1 be not much deceived, to be originally understood by them merely as proper names; in so much lhat the notions annexed by an infant to the words denoting the different articles of its nursery-furniture, or the little toys collected for its amusement, are in its conceptions, as individually and exclusively appropriated, as the names of its father, mother, or nurse. If this observation be well founded, the same gra- dual conversion of proper names into appellatives, which Mr. Smith supposes to have taken place in the formation of a language, is exemplified in the histo- ry of every infant while learning* to interpret its mother tongue. The case is nearly the same with the peasant, who has never seen but one town, one lake, or one river. All of these appellatives are to his ear precisely equivalent to so many proper names. 14 Quo le, Moeri, f.edes ? An, quo via ducil, in Urbem r" That resemblance is one of our most powerful associating principles, will not be disputed ; and that, even in the maturity of our reason, we have a na- tural disposition to generalize the meaning of signs, in consequence of appre- hended similarities, both of things and of relations, is equally certain. Why then should it be apprehended, that there is any peculiar mystery connected with this step in the commencement ofthe progress, when it seems to admit of an explanation so satisfactory, from a law of the human mind, exemplified daily in facts falling within the circle of our own experience ? Note (L.) page 134. 44 Aristotle's rules are illustrated, or rather, in my opinion, purposely dark - 44 ened, by putting letters ofthe alphabet for the several terms." Reid's Ana- lysis of Aristotle's Logic. On this remark the following criticism has been made by Dr. Gillies. 44 In tbe first Analytics, Aristotle shews, what is that arrangement of terms in / " each proposition, and that arrangement of propositions in each syllogism, 44 which constitutes a necessary connexion between the premises and tbe con- 44 elusion. When this connexion takes place, the syllogism is perfect in point 44 of form; and when the form is perfect, the conclusion necessarily follows 44 from the premises, whatever be the signification ofthe terms of which they ■4 are composed. These terms, therefore, he commonly expresses by the let- 44 ters of the alphabet, for the purpose of shewing that onr assent to the con- 44 elusion results, not from comparing the things signified, but merely from c( considering the relation which the signs (whether words or letters) bear NOTES AND ILLUS1 RATIONS. 263 *4 to eich other. Those, therefore, totally misconceive the meaning of Aris- 44 totle's logic, who think that by employing letters instead of words, he has 44 darkened the subject; since the more abstract and general his signs are, *4 they must be the better adapted to shew, that the iuference results from con- 44 sidering them alone, without at all regarding the things which they signify."* With the doctrine stated in the beginning of this extract I entirely agree. It coincides indeed remarkably with a passage in the former volume of this work, where I have shewn, at some length, that our assent to the conclusion of a legitimate syllogism results, not from comparing the things signified, but merely from considering the relations of the signs; and consequently, that let- ters of the alphabet might be substituted iustead of verbal terms, without im- pairing the force ofthe argument. The observation appears to myself of con- siderable importance, when connected with the fundamental question there dis- cussed, concerning the use of language as an instrument of thought; but, I own, I am at a loss to conceive how it should have been supposed to bear on the pre- sent subject. The only point at issue between Dr. Gillies and Dr. Reid is? whether the use of letters instead of words be, or be not, a useful expedient for facilitating the study of logic ; aud upon this, I apprehend, there can scarcely exist a diversity of opinion. No instance, I will venture to affirm, ever occur- red of any hesitation in the mind ofthe merest novice about the conclusiveness of a legitimate syllogism, when illustrated by an example ; but bow difficult to explain to a person altogether unaccustomed to scholastic abstractions, the im- port and cogency of those symbolical demonstrations by which Aristotle has attempted to fortify the syllogistic theory ! The partiality of Dr. Gillies for this technical device has probably arisen, in part, from his supposing it to bear a much closer analogy than it does, in fact, to the algebraical art. Another very learned writer has proceeded on the same idea, and he observes, that '4 it should recommend the study of logic to mathe- 44 maticians, that, in order to make his demonstrations universal, Aristotle uses 44 letters as universal characters, standing for all kinds of terms or proposi- tions."! It would be an idle waste of words to shew, how very slight this ana- logy is, and how totally inapplicable to the question before us ;—amounting to little more than this, that, in both cases, the alphabet happens to be employed as a substitute for common language. An analogy, much more in point, may be traced in the practice of designating by letters the different parties in a hypo- thetical law-suit;—a practice attended with no inconvenience, where these symbols only supply the place of proper names ; but which would at once con- vert the simplest case into an aenigma, if they were to be employed (as they are by Aristotle) to denote, not merely individual existences, but the relations of general ideas. While Dr. Gillies has thus exerted his ingenuity in defending the use made by Aristotle of letters instead of words, it is to be regretted, that he has said nothing about the motives which induced that philosopher, in disproving the illegitimate modes, to content himself with general references to such words as bonum, habitus, prudentia, upon which the student is left to his own judgment, in ringing the various changes necessary for the illustration ofthe theory. A more effectual contrivance could not easily have been thought of, for perplex- ing a subject, level, in itself, to the meanest capacity. In this respect, it an- swers the intended purpose still better than his alphabetical/ormu/a. Note (M.) p. 153. As instances of what are called by logicians fallaciae in dictione, a modern writer mentions the mistakes which may arise from confounding 44 liber Bac- 44 chas, et liber a servitute ; liber codex, et liber cortex; crevi a cerno, et crevi • Analysis or Ari»totle's Speculative Works, &c. by Dr. Gillies, Vol. I. p. 89, 2d edit. From a note atthe foot ol the page it appeur*, that the remarks just quoted from Reid gave occasion to the above strictures. t Ancient Metaphysics. Vol. HI. p. 51 of ihe preface. 261 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 44 a cresco; infractus participium ab mfringo, et infractus compositum ab tnc' "fractus, sensu plane contrario." He mentions also tbe danger of confounding the literal with the figurative sense of a word, as vulpes when applied to a quadruped, and to a man noted for cunning.--44 Sic siquis arguat (he adds for the •■ sake of illustration) stellam lalrare, quia stella quoedam Canis dicitur, facile " respondebitur captioso argumento, distinguendo varios sensus ejusdom vocis, ■• indeque ostendendo syllogismi quatuor terminos (si sensuin spectesj ubi tres saltern sono comparent." To exemplify the fallacia accentus, the same writer narns us against con- founding hortus and ortus; hara and ara ; malum adjectivum, and malum pro porno; cervus and servus; concilium and consilium, &c. «Ve. The remedy against such fallacies, he gravely tells ns, is to distinguish the words thus identified, so as to shew that the syllogism consists of more than three terms. '• Solvuutur 44 distinguendo eaquae confunduntur, indeque monstrando pluralitatem termi- 44 norurn." He acknowledges, however, that fallacies of thisvsort are not like- ly to impose on a skilful logician. 41 Sed crassiores sunt hae fallaciae quam ut perito imponant." I have purposely quoted these remarks, not from a mere schoolman, but from an author justly distinguished both by science and learning, Dr. Walli?j of Oxford. They are taken, too, from a treatise written with the express view of adapting the logic commonly taught in our universities to the ordinary busi- ness of life; having a formal dedication prefixed to it, to the royal Society of London, then recently instituted. The subject is the same with that of the third Book of Locke's Essay, relating to the abuse of words; and the interval between the two publications was only two years. Yet how immense the space by which they are separated in the history ofthe Human Mind ! The concluding paragraph, however, of this very peurile chapter on sophisms, bears marks of a mind fitted for higher undertakings. I cannot deny myself (he pleasure of transcribing it, and of pointing it out to those who may hereaf- ter speculate upon the theory of wit, as not unworthy of their attention. 44 Interim hie monendum duco ; quod hae fallaciae utcuuque juslam argu- '4 menti vim non habeant, apprime tamen coimnodac sunt ad id omne quod •4 ingeniosvm vulgo dicimus : Ut sunt joci, facetiae, dicteria, scommata, sar- '4 casmi, retorsioncs Icpidae, ("wit, raillery, repartee. J Quippe hoc omne fun- '4 dari solet in hujusmodi fallaciarum aliqua. Nonuumquam allusio fit ad ver- •• borum sonos; nunc ad ambiguam vocum significationem ; nunc ad dubiam •4 syntaxin; nunc proverbialiter dici solita accommodantur sensu proprio, aut ■4 vice versa : nunc aliud apertc dicitur, aliud clam insinuatur ; saltem oblique ■• insinuatur, quod non erat directo dicendum; nunc verba contrario sensu •'captantur, et retorquentur ; nunc verisimile insinuatur ut verum, saltem ut ■4 suspectum ; nunc de uno dicitur, quod, mutato nomine, de alio intellectum 44 vellent; nunc ironice laudando vituperant; nunc objecta spicula responden- 44 do declinantur, aut etiam (obliquata) alio diriguntur, forte sic ut auctorem 44 feriant; et fere semper ex ambiguo luditur, Quae quidem fallaciarum for- 44 mulae, si frigieae sint crassaeque, ridentur ; si subtiliores, arrident: si acutae, 44 tilillant; si aculeatae, pungunt." Note (X.) page 163, In the first volume of these Element, I have endeavoured to trace the on gin of that bias ofthe imagination, which has led men, in all ages of the world, lo consider physical causes and effects as a scries of successive events necessa- rily connected together, like the links of a metallic chain. (See Chap. i. Sect. 2.) So very strong is this bias, that, even in the present times, some ofthe most sagacious and cautions of Bacon's followers occasionally shew a disposi- tion to relapse into the figurative language of the multitude. 4' The chain of 44 natural causes (says Dr. Reid) has, not unfitly, been compared to a chain 44 hanging down from heaven: A link that is discovered supports the links 44 below it, but it must itself be supported; and that which supports it must be 44 supported, until we come to the first link, which i*> supported by the throne of NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 265 *"• the Almighty." (Essays on the Intellectual Powers, p 115. 4to ed.) It is difficult to reconcile the approbation here bestowed on the above similitude, with the excellent and profound remarks on the relation of cause and effect, which occur in other parts of Dr. Reid's works. (See Essays on the Active Powers, p. 44, and pp. 2!J6, 287, 288, 4to ed.) Mr. Maclaurin, in the concluding chapter of his account of Newton's Dis- coveries, has still more explicitly lent the sanction of his name to this idea of a chain of second causes. 44 As we cannot but conceive the universe as depend- 44 ing on the first cause and chief mover,whom it would be absurd, not to say im- 44 pious, to exclude from acting in it; so we have some hints of the manner in 44 which he operates in nature, from the laws which we find established in it. •4 Though he is the source of all efficacy, yet we find that place is left for-second 44 causes, to act in subordination to him ; and mechanism has its share in carrying 4 on the great scheme of nature. The establishing the equality of action and 44 reaction, even in those powers which seem to surpass mechanism, and to be 4 more immediately derived from him, seems to be an indication that those pow- 44 ers, while they derive their efficacy from him, are, however, in a certain de- 14 gree, circumscribed and regulated in their operations by mechanical princi- 44 pies; and that they are not to be considered as mere immediate volitions of 44 his, (as they are often represented,) but rather as instruments made by him, 44 to perform the purposes for which he intended them. If, for example, the 44 most noble phenomena in nature be produced by a rare elastic atherialme- "dium, as Sir Isaac Newton conjectured, the whole efficacy of this medium 44 must be resolved into his power and will who is the supreme cause. This, 44 however, does not hinder, but that the same medium may be subject to the 44 like laws as other elastic fluids, in its actions and vibrations; and that, if its 4 nature were bettei known to us, we might make curious and useful dtscove- •4 ries concerning its effects, from these laws. It is easy to see, that this con- jecture no way derogates from the government and influences ofthe Deity; 44 while it leaves us at liberty to pursue our inquiries concerning the nature «« and operations of such a medium : Whereas they who hastily resolve these 44 powers into immediate volitions of the Supreme Cause, without admitting any 44 intermediate instruments, put an end to our inquiries at once ; and deprive us 44 of what is probably the most sublime part of philosophy, by representing it as "'imaginary and fictitious.." On the merits of this passage, considered in relation to the evidences ot na- tural religion, I do not mean to offer any remarks here. Some acute strictures upon it in this point of view (but expressed with a most unbecoming and offen- sive petulance) may be found in the third volume of Baxter's Inquiry into the Human Soul.—It is with the logical proposition alone, stated in the conclud- ing; sentence, that we are concerned at present and this (although Baxter_baa passed it over without any animadversion) appears to me highly exceptionable; proceeding on a very inaccurate, or rather totally erroneous conception oi the objectand aim of physical science. From the sequel of the section to !jhich th s note refers, (particularly from pages 233, 234,235, 286 ) I trust .t will ap- pear, that supposing all the phenomena of the universe to be produced bj'the immediate volitionslf the Supreme Cause, the business of natural P"'^ophere would be precisely the same as upon the hypothesis adopted by Maclaur n : the mvestigation of the necessary connexions linking together physical cause and effects (if any such necessary connexions do exist) being confessed!) placed beyondtl rLch of our faculties ; and, of consequence our most success*, re- searches terminating in the discovery of somegeneralJaw or_ n the farther generalization and simplification of laws already known. In this; in el ectual process there is no more reason to apprehend that any limit is fixed to our in- quiries, than that the future progress of geometry should be topped by the Sverv of some one truth comprising the whole science in a single theorem. Nor do I apprehend that the theory which excludes from the universe meclmn- i^(strictly srcTlled) tends, in the smallest degree, to detract from its beauty and (grandeyur; notwithstanding the popular and much admired argument of VOL. II. ^ 266 NOTES AND 1LLI STRATIONS. Mr. Boyle in support of this ides. 44 As it more recommends (he observes) 41 the skill of an engineer to contrive an elaborate engine, so aa tbat them need 44 nothing to reach his ends in it, but the contrivance of parts void of under- 44 standing ; that if it were necessary tbat, ever and anon, a discreet servant 44 should be employed to concur notably to the operations of this or that part, or 44 te hinder the engine from being out of order; so it more sets off tbe wisdom 44 of God, in tbe fabric of tbe universe, tbat he can make so vast a machine 44 perform all those many things which certain laws of motion, and upheld by 44 his ordinary and general concourse; than if he employed, from t^ime to time, 44 aa intelligent overseer to regulate and control the motion of the parts.*"— 44 What may be the opinions of others (says Lord Kames, after quoting the fore- " going passage) 1 cannot say ; but to me this argument is perfectly conclusive. 44 Considering this universe as a great machine, the workmanship of an ititelli- 44 gent cause, I cannot avoid thinking it the more complete, the less mending 44 or interposition it requires. The perfection of every piece of workmanship, 44 human and divine, consists in its answering the designed purpose, without 44 bestowing further labour upon it."f—To myself, 1 must confess, Mr. Boyle's argument appears altogether unworthy of its author. The avowed use of a machine is to save labour; and therefore, the less frequently the interposition of the artist is necessary, the more completely does the machine accomplish the purpose for which it was made. These ideas surely do not apply to the works of the Almighty. The multiplicity of his operations neither distracts his atten- tion, nor exhausts his power; nor can we, without an obvious inconsistency in the very terms ofthe proposition, suppose him reduced to the necessity of eco- nomizing, by means of mechanism, the resources of Omnipotence.*} My object in these observations (I thiuk it proper once more to remind my readers) is not to prejudge the metaphysical question between Maclaurin and Baxter; but merely to establish the two- following propositions. 1. That this question is altogether foreign to the principles which form the basis of the in- ductive logic ; these principles neither affirming nor denying the existence of necessary connexions between physical causes and effects, but only asserting, that such connexions, if they do exist, are not objects of human knowledge. 2. That no presumption in favour of their existence is afforded by Mr. Boyle's similitude; tbe reasoning founded on the supposed analogy between the uni- verse and a machine, being manifestly inapplicable where the power as well as the skill of the Contriver is admitted to be infinite.—If the remarks offered on these points be well founded, they may serve, at the same time, to shew, lhat the attempt made in the text, to illustrate some abstract topics connected with the received Rules of Philosophizing was not altogether superfluous. The metaphysical doctrine maintained by Baxter in opposition to Maclaurin, seems to coincide nearly with Malebranche's Theory of Occasional Causes, as well as with the theology of the old Orphic verses quoted in the 7th chapter of Aristotle's Treatise de Mundo.—A very striking resemblance is observable be- tween these verses, and tbe Hymn to Narrayna or tbe Spirit of God, translated by Sir William Jones from the writings of ancient Hindu Poets.} * Inquiry into ihe vulgar notion of >'aiure. I Of tbe laws ol Motion. Published in the First Volume of the Physical and Literary Essays, read before the Edinburgh Philosophical Society, (1751.) I \ rs :nparison still more absurd than that of Mr. Boyle occurs in the 6ih Chanter of Arii'oile's bonk de Mundo ; wtiete he represents il as unbecoming the dignity of the Su- preme Being XVTovpytli XirxtTX,—" to pin bis own hand to every th in^ ;" a suppo- sition, according to h m, " much more unsuitable to the divine majesty, than lo conceive a gre it monarch like Xerxes taking upon bimsell the actual execution of all his own decrees." § The same opinion is explicitly avowed by Dr. Clarke, a zealous partisan of the Experi- ment! Philosophy, and one ofthe ablest logicians that the Newtonian School has hitherto produced. *' The course of nature, truly nod properly speaking, is nothing but the will of God, producing certain "ffects in 8 continued, regular, constant and uniform man'ifi." (Clarke's Work*, Vol. II. p. 698. Fo'. edi\) NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 267 Note (O.) page 172. Although Dr. Reid was plainly led into this train of thinking by Mr. Hume, the same doctrine, with respect to the relations of cause, and effect, (considered as the object of physical science,) is to be found in many English writers of a far earlier date.—Of this assertion I have produced various proofs in my first Volume, from Hobbes, Barrow, Berkeley, and others, to whose speculations on this head Dr. Reid does not seem to have paid any attention. To these quota- tions I beg leave to add the following, from a book, of which the third edition was published in 1737. " Here it is worth observing, that all the real true knowledge we have of na- " ture is entirely experimental; in so much, that how strange soever the asser- " tion seems, we may lay this down as the first fundamental unerring rule in " physics, that it is not within the compass of human understanding, to assign a " purely speculative reason for any one phenomenon in nature; as why grass is " green, or snow is white ; why fire burns, or cold congeals. By a speculative tl reason, I mean assigning an immediate efficient cause a priori, together with 44 the manner of its operation, for any effect whatsoever purely natural. We " find, indeed, by observation and experience, that suoh and such effects are *' produced ; but when we attempt to think ofthe reason why, and the manner 44 how the causes work those effects, then we are at a stand, and all our rea- " soning is precarious, or at best but probable conjecture. 44 If any man is surprised at this, let him instance, in some speculative reason 44 he can give for any natural phenomenon; and how plausible soever it ap- " pears to him at first, he will, upon weighing it thoroughly, find it at last re- " solved into nothing more than mere observation and experiment, and will 44 perceive that these expressions generally used to describe the cause or man- ner ofthe productions of nature, do really signify nothing more than the effects.'''' 44 The Procedure, Extents, and Limits of Human Understanding." Ascribed to Dr. Peter Brown, Bishop of Cork. (London, 1737. 3d ed.) For the following very curious extracts, (together with many others of a si- milar import, both from English and from foreign writers,) I am indebted to a learned correspondent, William Dickson, LL. D. a gentleman well known by his able and meritorious exertions for the abolition of the slave trade. 44 Confidence of science is one great reason we miss it; for on this account, 44 presuming we have it every where, we seek it not where it is ; and there- 44 fore fall short of the object of our inquiry. Now, to give further check to " dogmatical pretensions, and to discover the vanity of assuming ignorance, 44 we'll make a short inquiry, whether there be any such thing as science in the 44 sense of its assertors. In their notion, then, it is the knowledge of things " in their true, immediate necessary causes: Upon this I'll advance the follow- 44 ing observations. 44 1. All knowledge of causes is deductive; for we know none by simple in- 14 tuition, but through the mediation oftheir effects. So that we cannot con- 44 elude any thing to be the cause of another, but from its continually accom- 44 panying it; for the causality itself is insensible. But now to argue from a 44 concomitancy to a causality is not infallibly conclusive ; yea, in. this way 44 lies notorious delusion, &c. &c. &c. 44 2. We hold no demonstration in the notion of the dogmatist, but where the 44 contrary is impossible:" &c. &c. (Scepsi Scientifica: or Confess't Ignorance the Way to Science ; in an Essay of the Vanity of Dogmatizing and Confi- dent Opinion; with a reply to the Exceptions of the learned Thomas Albius* Bv Joseph Glanvill, M. A. London, 1665. Dedicated to the Royal Society.) 44 Causalities are first found out by concomitancy, as I intimated. And our 44 experience of the dependence of one, and independence of the other, shews 44 which is the effect, and which the cause. Definitions cannot discover caus- 44 alities, for they are formed after the causality is known. So that, in our au- •Of White a Roman priest, author of a treatise entitled Sciri,sir* Scepticef continuity. 44 But, on the one hand, all the organs do not follow the same order in their 44 gradation. This organ is at its highest state of perfection in one species of 14 animals; that organis most perfect in a different species, so that, if the spe- 14 cies are to be arranged after each particular organ, there must be as many 44 scales or series formed, as there are regulating organs assumed ; and in or- " derto construct a general scale of perfection, applicable to all beings, there 44 must be a calculation made of the effect resulting from each particular com- 44 bination of organs,—a calculation which, it is needless to add, is hardly prac- " ticable. 44 On the other hand, these slight shades of difference, these insensible gra- 44 dations, continue to be observed, only while we confine ourselves to the same 44 combinations of leading organs; only while we direct our attention to the 44 same great central springs. Within these boundaries all animals appear to 44 be formed on one common plan, which serves as the groundwork to all the 44 lesser internal modifications: but the instant we pass to animals where the 44 leading combinations are different, the whole of the resemblance ceases at 44 once, and we cannot but be conscious of the abruptness of the. transition. 44 Whatever separate arrangements may be suitable for the two great classes 44 of animals, with and without vertebrae, it will be impossible to place at the 44 end ofthe one series, and at the commencement of the other, two animals 44 sufficiently resembling, to form a proper bond of connexion." Introduction to Cuvier's Legon's d'Anatomie Comparte. Note (R.) page 207 Of fortunate conjectures or hypotheses concerning the la\v9 of nature, many additional examples might be produced from the scientific history ofthe 18th century. Franklin's sagacious and confident anticipation of the identity of lightning and of electricity is one of the most remarkable. The various analo- gies previously remarked between their respective phenomena, had become, at this period, so striking to philosophers, that the decisive experiment necessary to complete the theory, was carried into execution, in the course ofthe same month, od both sides ofthe Atlantic. In the circumstantial details recorded of that made in America, there is something peculiarly interesting. I transcribe them in the words of Dr. Priestly, who assures us that he received them from the best authority. 44 After Franklin had published his method of verifying his hypothesis con- "• cerning the sameness of electricity with the matter of lightning, be was •4 waiting for the erection of a spire in Philadelphia to carry his views into exe- 44 cntion ; not imagining that a pointed rod, of a moderate height,could answer 4 the purpose; when it occurred to him that, by means of a common kite, he NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 271 " could have a readier and better access to the regions of thunder, than by any 44 spire whatever. Preparing, therefore, a large silk handkerchief, and two 44 cross sticks of a proper length, on which to extend it, he took the opportunity 44 of the first approaching thunder-storm to take a walk into a field, in which 44 there was a shed convenient for this purpose. But dreading the ridicule 44 which too commonly attends unsuccessful attempts in science, he communi- 44 cated his intended experiment to nobody but his son, who assisted him in 44 raising the kite. 44 The kite being raised, a considerable time elapsed before there was any 44 appearance of its being electrified. One very promising cloud had passed 44 over it without any effect; when, at Ttength, just as he was beginning to 44 despair of his contrivance, he observed some loose threads of the hempen 44 string to stand erect, and to avoid one another, just as if they had been sun- 44 pended on a common conductor. Struck with this promising appearance, 44 he immediately presented his knuckle to the key, and (let the reader judge 44 ofthe exquisite pleasure he must have felt at that moment) the discovery 44 was complete. He perceived a very evident electric spark. Others suc- 41 ceeded, even before the string was wet, so as to put the matter past all dis- 44 pute ; and when the rain had wet the string, he collected electric fire very 44 copiously. This happened in June, 1752, a month after the electricians in '• France had verified the same theory, but before he heard of any thing they had done." Priestley's History of Electricity, pp. 180, 181, 4to. ed. Note (S.) p. 210. 44 Natural knowledge may not unaptly be compared to a vegetable, whether " plant or tree, which springs from a seed sowed in a soil proper, and adapted 44 by a skilful gardener, for that plant. For as the seed, by small fibrills or 44 roots it shoots out, receives from the soil or earth a nourishment proper and 4- adapted for ascending into the body or stalk, to make it grow in bulk and 44 strength to shoot upwards, and from thence to shoot forth branches, and 44 from tbem leaves, thereby to draw and receive out of the air a more refined, 44 spirituous, and enlivening juice, which, descending back into the body or 44 stalk, increases its stature, bulk, circumference, and strength, by new in- 44 circlings, and thereby enables, it to send forth more fibrills and greater roots, 44 which afford greater and more plentiful supplies to the .stalk or trunk, and 44 enable that to exert aud shoot forth more branchings, and greater numbers 44 of leaves ; which, repeating all the effects and operations by continued and 44 constant circulations, at length bring the plant to its full stature and per- 44 fectiou : 44 So natural knowledge doth receive its first informations from the supplies 44 afforded by select and proper phenomena of nature conveyed by the senses; 44 these improve the understanding, and enable it to raise some branchings out 44 into conclusions, corollaries, and maxims; these afford a nutritive and strength- 44 ening power to the understanding, and enable it to put forth new roots of in- 44 quisition, trials, observations, and experiments, and thereby to draw new 44 supplies of information ; which further strengthening the understanding, ena- 44 ble it to exert and produce new deductions and new axioms : These circu- late and descend downwards, increasing and strengthening the judgment, 44 and thereby enable it to make more striking out of roots of inquiries and ex- 44 periments, wliich cause the like effects as before, but more powerfully, and 44 so hy constant and continued circulations from phenomena to make deduc- 44 tions, and from deductions to inquire phenomena, it brings the understanding 44 to a complete and perfect comprehension of the matter at first proposed to be 44 considered." (Hook's Posthumous Works, p. 553.) Note (T.) p. 211. 44 Aliquando observationes et experimenta immediate nobis exhibent princi- 44 pia quae quaerimus ; sed aliquando etiam hypotheses in auxilium vocamus, 272 NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 44 non tamen penitus arbitrarias, sed conformes iis quae obscrvantur, ct quae, "supplentesimmediatarum observationum defectum, viam investigationi ster- 44 nunt, tanquam divinantibus ; ut si ea, qure ex ipsis dedticuntur, invcniarnui 44 re ipsa, eadem retineamus, et progrediamur ad novaconscctaria ; secus vero, 44 ipsas rejiciamus. Et quidem plerumque hanc esse arbitror mcthodum ornni- 44 urn aptissimam in pbysica, quae sacpissimc est velut quacdam enucleatio " epistolae arcanis notis conscriptse, ubi per attentationem, et per errores 44 etiam plurimos paulatim et caute progrediendo, ct veram ejus theoriam de- 44 venitnr : cujus rei specimen admodum luculentum exhibtii in mea disscrta- 44 tione de lumine, agens de rectilinea Inmitrts propagatione ; ac in Stayanae 44 Philosophiae Tomo I. agens de generalibus proprietalibuscorporum, ct de vi 44 inertiac in primis ; Tomo vero II, agens de totius Astronomiae constitutionc." Boscovich de Solis ac Lunae Defectibus. In Sprat's History ofthe Royal Society, a similar idea occurs, illustrated by an image equally fanciful and apposite. *' It is not to be questioned, but many 44 inventions of great moment have been brought forth by authors, who began '•* upon suppositions, which afterwards they found to be untrue. And it fre- 44 quently happens to philosophers, as it did to Columbus ; who first believed '• the clouds that hovered about the continent to be the firm land.- But this mis- 44 take was happy ; for, by sailing towards them, he was led to what he sought; 44 so by prosecuting of mistaken causes, with a resolution of not giving over 44 the pursuit, tbey have been guided to the truth itself." [The work from which this passage is taken (it may be here remarked by the way,*) affords complete evidence ofthe share which, in the judgment of the founders ofthe Royal Society, Bacon had in giving a beginning to experimen- tal pursuits in England. Sec, in particular, Section xvi.] Note (U.) page 212. With respect to the application ofthe method of exclusions to physics, an im- portant logical remark is made by Newton, in one of his letters to Mr. Olden- burgh. Obvious and trivial as it may appear to some, it has been overlooked by various writers of great name ; and therefore I think proper to state it in Newton's own words. 44 In the meanwhile, give me leave, Sir, to insinuate, that I cannot think it 44 effectual for determining truth, to examine the several ways by which phe- 44 nomena may be explained, unless where there can be a perfect enumeration of •4 all those ways. You know the proper method for inquiring after the proper- 44 ties of things, is to deduce them from experiments. And 1 toldyou, that the 44 theory which I propounded (concerning light and colours) was evinced to 44 me, not by inferring, it is thus, because it is not otherwise; that is, not by de- ducing it only from a confutation of contrary suppositions, but by deriving it 44 from experiments concluding positively and directly. The way therefore, 44 to examine it, is, by considering whether the experiments which I propound, 44 do prove those parts of the theory to which they are applied ; or by prosecu- 44 ting other experiments which the theory may suggest for its examination." &c. &c. Horsley's Edition of Newton's Works, Vol. IV. p. 320. Note (X.;p.215. 44 If we consider the infantine state of our knowlege concerning vision, light, 14 and colours, about a century ago, very great advancements will appear to 44 have been made in this branch of science ; and yet a philosopher of the present 44 age has more desiderata, can start more difficulties, and propose more new 44 subjects of inquiry than even Alhazen or Lord Bacon. The reason is, that 44 whenever a new property of any substance is discovered, it appears to have 44 connexions with other properties, and other things, of which we could have 44 no idea at all before, and which are by this means but imperfectly announ- 44 ced to U9. Indeed, every doubt implies some degree of knowledge; and while NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 273 " nature is a field of such amazing, perhaps boundless extent, it may be ex- 44 pected that the more knowledge we gain, the more doubt* and difficulties we 44 shall have ; but still, since every advance in knowledge is a real and valua- 44 ble acquisition to mankind, in consequence of its enabling us to apply the 44 powers of nature to render our situation in life more happy, we have reason 44 to rejoice at every new difficulty that is started, because it informs us that 44 more knowledge, and more advantage are yet unattained, and should serve 44 to quicken our diligence in the pursuit of them. Every desideratum is an 44 imperfect discovery.''''—Priestley's History of Discoveries relating to Vision, Light, and Colours, p. 773. (Land. 1772.) Note(Y.) page 222. For the analogies between Galvanism and Electricity, see Traill Elemen~ taire de Physique, par M. UAbbe" Haiiy, ' 717.—The passage concludes with the following remark, which may be regarded as an additional proof, that even when analogical conjectures appear, to depart the most widely from the evi- dence of experience, it is from experience that they derive their whole author- ity over the belief. 44 Partout le fluide de electrique semble se multiplier par 44 la diversitg des phenomenes ; et il nous avait tellement accoutumes a ses mgt 44 amorphoses, que lanouveaute meme de la forme sous laquelle il s'offrait dan* 44 le Galvanisine naissant, sembleit etre une raison de plus pour le reconnaitre.8 Note (Z.) page 228. Iu lhat branch of politics which relates to the theory of Government, one source of error (not unfrequently overlooked by the advocates for experience) arises from the vagueness of the language in which political facts are necessa- rily stated by the most faithful and correct historians. No better instance of this can be produced than the terms, Monarchy, Aristocracy, and Democracy, commonly employed to distinguish different forms of Government from each other. These words, in their strict philosophical acceptation, obviously denote not actual but ideal constitutions, existing only in the imagination of the po- litical theorist; while, in more popular discourse, they are used to discriminate, according to their prevailing bias, or spirit, the various mixed establishments exemplified in the history of human affairs. Polybius, accordingly, with his usual discernment, expresses his doubts, under which ofthe three simple forms the constitution of Rome, at the period when he had an opportunity of studying it, ought to be classed. 44 When we contemplate (he observes) the power of 44 the Consuls, it seems to be a monarchy ; when we attend to the power of the 44 Senate, it seems to be an aristocracy ; when we attend to the power ofthe 44 People, we are ready to pronounce it a democracy."* It is easy to see how much this scantiness and want of precision in our politi- cal vocabulary, must contribute to mislead the judgments of those reasonera who do not analyze very accurately the notions annexed to their words ; and, * This observation of Po'yhius has been unjustly criticised by Groiiu*. " Sed neqne Po- lybii hie ulor auctoritale, qci ad mixtum genus reipublicae relert Romanam rempublicam, quae il'o tempore, si non actiones ipsas, fed jus agendi respicimus, mere Hut popjlaiis: Nam et senatus auc oritas, q mm ad opimHtum regimen refert, et consilium, quo? quasi re- ge« fuisse vult, subdlta era. populo. Idem de aliorum politic* scrldentium seutentiisdictum volo, qui magi< externam speciem et quotidianam admimstrmionem, quam jus 'Psu,n *"m- mi imperil speclare congruens ducunt suo instituto." (De Jure Belli ac Pacis, Lib I. Cap. 3.) The truth is, that Polybius is not here speakiiiK ol me theory of the Roman constitu- tion, (about which there could Se no diveisi'v of opinion,) but ol what c~ inmon observers are so apt to overlook,—the actual slate of that constitution, modified as it wris by lime, and chance, and experience.—Am ing ihe numerous omnientators on Groti'is. 1 recollect one-nlv (Henry de Cocceii,) who has viewed this question in Us proper light. ' A'tctor inter eos, qui circa lormas imperii fallnntur edam Polybiuni retert, qui rempuhiicatn Roma- nam suis temporibus mixture, fuisse ait. At bene notandnm, Polybium non loquide mixiura status, -ed administrationis: forma eniin reipubheae erai mere popularrs, tea adnnnistratig di\iv> luii inter consuls, sertatum, et populum." VOL. n. 35 274 VOTLS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. at the same tune, what a purchase they afford lo the sbphistry of such writer* as are disposed, in declamations addressed to the multitude, to take an undue advantage of the ambiguities of language. Another source of error which goes far to invalidate the authority of various political maxims supposed to be founded on experience, is the infinite multipli- city of the seemingly trifling and evanescent causes connected with local man- ners and habits, which, in their joint result, modify, and in some cases coun- teract so powerfully, the effects of written laws and of established forms. Of these causes no verbal description can convey an adequate idea; nor is it always possible even for the most attentive and sagacious observer, when the facts are before his eyes, to appreciate all their force.—So difficult is it to seize the nicer shades which distinguish the meanings of correspondent terms in different languages; and to enter, at years of maturity, into those delicate and complex associations, which, in the mind of a well educated native, are identified with the indigenous feelings of national sympathy and taste. Of the truth of this remark, a striking illustration presents itself in the mu- tual ignorance of the French and English nations (separated from each other by a very narrow channel, and, for centuries past, enjoying so many opportu- nities of the most familiar intercourse) with respect to the real import of the words and phrases marking the analogous gradations of rank in the two coun- tries. The words gentil-homme and gentleman are both derived from the same etymological root; yet how imperfect a translation does the one afford ofthe other! and how impossible to convey by a definition all Orat is implied in either! Among French writers of no inconsiderable name, we meet with rea- sonings which plainly shew, that they considered the relative rank ofthe mem- bers of our two Houses of Parliament, as something similar to what is expressed in their own language by the words noble and roturier;—while others, puzzled with the inexplicable phenomena occasionally arising from the boundless field of ambition opened in this fortunate island to every species of industry and of enterprise, have been led to conclude, that birth has, among us, no other value than what it derives from the privileges secured by the constitution to our he- reditary legislators. Few perhaps but the natives of Great Britain are fully aware, how very remote from the truth are both these suppositions. I transcribe the following passage from an article in the French Encyclope- dic, written by an author of some distinction both for talents and learning; and whieh, it is not impossible, may be quoted at some future period in the his- tory of the world, as an authentic document with respect to the state of English society in the eighteenth century. The writer had certainly much better ac- cess to information than was enjoyed by those to whom we are indebted for our experimental knowledge of the ancient systems of policy. 44 En Angleterre, la loi des successions attribue aux aines dans les families 44 nobles les biens immeubles, a l'exclusion des cadets qui n'y ont aucune part. 44 Ces cadets sans bien cherchent a reparer leurs pertes dans l'exercice du ne- 44 goce, et c'est pour eux un moyen presque sur de s'enrichir. Devenus riches, 44 ilsquittent la profession, ou meme sans la quitter, leurs enfans rentrent dans •4 tous les droits de la noblessede leur famille; leur aineis prennent le titre de 44 milord si leur naissance et la possession d'une terre pairie le leur permettent. 44 II faut neanmoins remarquer, que quelque fiere que soit la noblesse Angloise, 44 lorsque les nobles entrent en apprentissage, qui selon les reglemens doit etre 44 de sept ans entiers, jamais ils ne se couvrent devant leurs maitres, leur parlant 44 et travaillant tete nue, quoique souvent le maitre soit roturier et de race mar- 44 chande, et qne les apprentifs soient de la premiere noblesse." Encyclop. Method. Commerce, Tom. 3. Article J^'oblesse. Note (AA.) page 232. 44 Metaphysicae pars secunda est finalium causarum inquisitio, quam non ut 44 praetermissam, sed ut male collocatam notamus. Solent enim inquiri inter 44 physica, non inter metapbysica. Quanquam si ordinis hoc solum vitiurn es- ' set, non mihi fuerit tanti. Ordo enim ad illustrationero pertinct, neque est NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 275 44 ex substantia scientiarum. At haec ordinis inrersio defectum insignem pe- " perit, et maximam philosophiae induxit calamitatem. Tractatio enim cau- 44 sarum finalium in physicis, inquisitionem causarum physicarum expulit et " dejecit, effecitque ut homines, in istiusmodi speciosis et umbratilibus causis 44 acqutescerent, nee inquisitionem causarum realium, et vere physicamm, 44 strenue urgerent, ingenti scientiarum detrimento. Etenim reperio hoc fac- 44 turn esse non solum a Platone, qui in hoc littore semper anchoram figit, ve- 44 rum etiam ab Aristotele, Galeno, et aliis, qui saepissime etiam ad ilia vada 44 impingunt. Etenim qui causas adduxerit hujusmodi, palpebras cum pilis " pro sepi etvallo esse, ad munimentum oculorum: aut coriumin animalibus 44 firmitudinem esse ad propellendos calores etfrigora: Aut ossa pro columnis et 44 trabibus a natura induci, quibus fabrica corporis innitatur: Aut folia arbo- 44 rum emitti, quofractus minus patiantur a sole^t vento: Aut nubes in sublimi "fieri, ut terram imbribus irrigent: Aut terram densari, et solidari, ut statio et 44 mansio sit animalium: et alia similia: Is in metaphysicis non male ista alle- 44 garit; in physicis autem nequaquam. Imo, quod coepimus dicere, hujusmo- 44 di sermonum discursus (instar remorarum, uti fingunt, navibus, adhaeren- 44 tium) scientiarum quasi velificationem et progressum retardarunt, ne cursum 44 suum tenerent, et ulterius progrederentur: et jampridem effecerunt, ut phy- 44 sicarum causarum inquisitio neglecta deficeret, ac silentio praeteriretur. 44 Quapropter philosophia naturalis Democriti, et aliorum, qui Deum et men- 44 tern a fabrica rerum amoverunt; et structuram universi infinitis naturae 44 praelusionibus et tentamentis (quas uno nomine fatum aut fortunam voca- 44 bant) attribuerunt; et rerum particularium causas, materiae necessitati, 44 sine intermixtione causarum finalium, assignaruut; nobis videtur, quatenus 44 ad causas physicas, multo solidior fuisse, et altius in Naturam penetrasse, ,4 quam ilia Aristotelis, etPlatonis : Hanc unicam ob causam, quod illi in cau- 44 sis finalibus nunquam operam triverunt; hi autem eas perpetuo inculcarunt. 44 Atque magis in hac parte accusandus Aristoteles quam Plato: quandequi- 44 dem fontem causarum finalium, Deum scilicet, omiserit, et naturam pro Deo 44 substituerit, causasque ipsas finales, potius ut logicae amator quam theolo- 44 giae, amplexus sit. Neque haec eo dicimus, quod causae illae finales verae 44 non sint, et inquisitione admodum dignae in speculationibus metaphysicae, 44 sed quia dum in physicarum causarum possessiones excurrunt et irruunt, 44 misere earn provineiam depopulantur et vastant." De Augm. Scient. Lib^ III. Cap. 4. Note (BB.) page 238. Among the earliest opponents of Des Cartes's doctrine concerning Final Causes, was Gassendi; a circumstance which I remark with peculiar pleasure, as he has been so unjustly represented by Cudworth and others, as a partisan, not only ofthe physical, but of atheistical opinions ofthe Epicurean school.— For this charge I do not see that they had the slightest pretence to urge, but that, in common with Bacon, he justly considered the physical theories of Epi- curus and Democritus as more analogous to the experimental inquiries of the moderns than the logical subtilities of Aristotle and of the schoolmen. The following passage is transcribed in Gassendi's own words, from his Objections, to the Meditations of Des Cartes. 44 Quod autem aphysica consideration rejicis usum causarum finalium,.alia 44 fortassis occasione potuisses recte facere : at de Deo cum agitur verendum 44 profecto* ne praecipuum argumentum rejicias, quo divina sapientia, proyi- " dentia, potentia, atque adeo existentia, lumine naturae stabiliri potest. Quip- " pe ut mundum universum, ut coelum et alias ejus et praedpuas partes prae- 44 teream, unde nam, aut quomodo melius argumeutare valeas, quam ex usu par- 44 tium in plantis, in animalibus, in hominibus, in te ipso (aut corpore tuo),qui 44 similitudinem Dei geris ? Videmus profecto magnos quosque viros ex specu- 44 latione anatomica corporis humani non assurgere modo ad Dei notitiam, sed 44 hymnum quoque ipsi canere, quod omnes partes ita conformaveret, colloca- •' veritque adusus, utsit omnino propter solertiam atque providentiam incom- \ 276 MJT*.< AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 44 parabilemcommeudandus." Objeetiones Quintac in Meditalionein IV.-- De vero et Falso. I do not know if it has been hitherto remarked, that Gassendi is oncoflhr first modern writers, by whom the following maxim, so often repeated l>\ later physiologists, was distinctly stated ; t4 Licet t.r conformatione partium corporis humani, " conjecturas desumere adfunctio/us mere naturales." It was from a precipitate application of this maxim, that he was led to conclude, that man was originally destined to feed on vegetables alone ; a proposition which gave occasion to several memoirs by Dr. Wallis and Dr. Tyson, in the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London. ' Note (CC.) p. 2-15. The theories of Hume, of Paley, and of Godwin, how differently soever they may have figured in the imaginations oftheir authors, are all equally liable to the fundamental objections stated in the text. The same objections arc appli- cable to the generous and captivating, but not always unexceptionable morali ty inculcated in the writings of Dr. Hutcheson. The system, indeed, of this last philosopher may be justly regarded as the parent stock on which the spe- culations of the others have been successively grafted. Mr. Hume entered on his Inquiries concerning Morals, at a period when Dr. Hutchoson'.s literary name was unrivalled in Scotland. The abstract princi- ples on wliich his doctrines are founded, differ widely from those of his prede- cessor, and are unfolded with far greater ingenuity, precision, and elegance.— In various instances, however, he treads very closely in Dr. Hutcheson's foot- steps ; and, in the final result of his reasonings he coincides with him exactly. According to both writers, a regard to general expediency affords the only uni- versal canon for the regulation of our conduct. It is a curious circumstance in the History of Ethics, that the same practical rule of life, to which Dr. Hutcheson was so naturally and directly led by his cardinal virtue of disinterested benevolence, has been inferred by Dr. Paley from a theory which resolves moral obligation entirely into prudential calcula- tions of individual advantage.—For the very circuitous, and (in my opinion) veiy illogical argument, whereby he has attempted to connect his conclusion wnh his premises, 1 must refer to his work.* The pol it icd justice of Mr. Godwin is but a new name for the principle of ge- neral expediency or utility. 44 The term justice (he observes) may be assumed 44 as a general appellation for all moral duty. That this appellation (he con- 44 tinues) is sufficiently expressive of the subject will appear, if we consider for 44 a moment mercy, gratitude, temperance, or any of those duties which, in 44 looser speaking, are contradistinguished from justice. Why should 1 pardon 44 this criminal, renumerate this favour, abstain from this indulgence ? If it 44 partake of the nature of morality, it must be either right or wrong, just or 44 unjust. Il must tend to the benefit of the individual, either without en- 44 trenching upon, or with actual advantage to the mass of individuals. Either 44 way, it benefits the whole, because individuals are parts ofthe whole. There- 44 fore, to do it, is just, and to forbear it is unjust. If justice have any mean- 44 ing. it is just that I should contribute every thing in my power to the benefit 44 of the whole." Polit. Justice. Vol. I. pp. 80, 81. It is manifest, that, in the foregoing extract, the duty of justice is supposed to coincide exactly as a rule of conduct with the affection of benevolence ; whereas, according to the common use of words, justice means that particular branch of virtue which leads us to respect the rights of others ; a branch of vir- tue remarkably distinguished from all others by this, that the observance of it * Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy Book ii. Chap. 1, 2, 3, 4, i, 6. The tiieo.-y of D'. Paley has he.-n very ably examined by Mr Gishoi ne? in a treatite en- titled, The Principles of Morid Philosophy investigated, and briefly applied to the Conni- tuli n I i"ivil Society. (London, 1790.) The objections lo it there Haled appear lo me quite unanswerable ; and they possess 'he additional merit of being urged with all ihe de- ference so justly due to Dr. Pale} 's character and talents. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 277 may be extorted by force ; the violation of it exposing the offender to resent- ment, to indignation, and to punishment. In Mr. Godwin's language, the word justice must either be understood to be synonymous with general benevo- lence, or—assuming the existence of such an affection—to express the moral fitness of yielding, upon all occasions, to its suggestions. 4( It is just (says Mr. '" Godwin) that I should contribute every thing in my power to the benefit of 44 the whole. My benefactor ought to be esteemed, not because he bestowed 44 a benefit upon me, but because he bestowed it upon a human being. His 44 desert will be in exact proportion to the degree in which the human being 44 was worthy of the distinction conferred. Thus, every view of the subject 44 brings us back to the consideration of my neighbour's moral worth, and his " importance to the general weal, as the only standard to determine the treat- 44 ment to wliich he is entitled. Gratitude, therefore a principle which has so 44 often been the theme ofthe moralist and the poet, is no part either of justice 44 or virtue." Ibid. p. 84. The words^'u^ and justice can, in these sentences, mean nothing distinct from morality^ or reasonable ; so that the import ofthe doctrine amounts merely to the following proposition, That it is reasonable or right, that the private benevolent affections should, upon all occasions, yield to the more comprehensive ; which is precisely the system of Hutcheson disguised under a different and much more exceptionable phraseology. This abuse of words is not without its effect in concealing from careless readers the fallaciousness of some of the author's subsequent arguments; for although the-idea he professes to convey by the term justice, be essentially dif- ferent from that commonly annexed to it, yet he scruples not to avail himself for his own purpose, of the received maxims which apply to it in its ordinary acceptation. In discussing, for example, the validity of promises, he reasons thus: 44 I have promised to do something just and right. This certainly I 44 ought to perform. Why ? Not because I promised, but because justice pre- 44 scribes it. I have promised to bestow a sum of money upon some good and 44 respectable purpose. In the interval between the promise and my fulfilling 44 it a greater and nobler purpose offers itself, which calls with an imperious 44 voice for my co-operation. Which ought I to prefer? That which best de- 44 serves mv preference. A promise can make no alteration in the case— • « I ought to be guided by the intrinsic merit of the objects, and not bv 44 any external and foreign consideration No engagements of mine can 44 change their intrinsic claims.—If every shilling of our property, every hour 44 of our time, and every faculty of our mind, have already received their desti- 44 nation from the principles of immutable justice, promises have no department 44 left upon which for them to decide. Justice it appears therefore, ought to be 44 done, whether we have promised it or not." (Ibtd. p. 151.) It is quite evident, that, in this passage, the paramount supremacy indispu- tably belonging to justice in its usual and legitimate sense, is ascribed to it when employed as synonymous with benevolence ; and of consequence that the tendency of the new system, instead of extending the province of justice, prop- erly so called, is to set its authority entirely aside, wherever it interferes with views of utility. In this respect, it exhibits a comp ete contrast to all the maxims hitherto recognised among moralists. The rules of J™*™ *« topp. [> compared by Mr. Smith, to the strict and indispensable rules of grammar . those of benevolence to the more loose and general descnp ions jfwhatcoo stitutes the sublime and beautiful in writing that we meet with in the works of critics. According to Mr. Godwin, the reverse of this comparison is agreea- bleto truth ; while at the same time, by a dexterous change in the meaning of terms, he assumes the appearance of combating for the very cause which he ^Orthfla^iS with which the wort,*** had been previously used bv many ethicafwriters, a copious and choicecollec^ in the learned and philosophical notes subjoined by Dr. Parr to his fapital ^er in tne learnen anu v t ancient philosophers, however, (as mon. (London 1801.) «y none other social duty . nor ^^m^^^«ffw«St of ft term in crushing the other moral 278 NOTES AND ILL!'STRATIOX**. 14 excellencies, which were equally considered as pillars in the temple of nr- 44 tue." pp. 28, 29, 30, 31.* Note(DD.) page 246. As the main purpose of this section is to combat the logical doctrine which would exclude the investigation of Final Causes from natural philosophy, I have not thought it necessary to take notice ofthe sceptical objections to the theolo- gical inferences commonly deduced from it. The consideration of these prop- erly belongs to some inquiries which I "destine for the subject of a separate Essay. On one of them alone I shall offer at present a few brief remarks, on ac- count of the peculiar stress laid upon it in Mr. Hume's Posthumous Dialogues. 44 When two species of objects (says Philo) have always been observed to be 44 conjoined together, I can infer, by custom, the existence of one wherever I 44 sec the existence of the other; and this I call an argument from experience. 44 But how this argument can have place, where the objects, as in the present 44 case, are single, individual, without parallel, or specific resemblance, may be 44 difficult to explain. And will any man tell me, with a serious countenance, 44 that an orderly universe must arise from some thought and art, like the hu- 14 man, because we have experience of it? To ascertain this reasoning, it were 44 requisite that we had experience ofthe origin of worlds; and it is not suffi- 4w cient surely, that we have seen ships and cities arise from human art and 44 contrivance.—Can you pretend to shew any similarity between the fabric of 44 a house, and the generation of the universe ? Have you ever seen Nature iu 44 any such situation as resembles the first arrangement ofthe elements ? Have 44 worlds ever been formed under your eye; and have you had leisure to ob- 44 serve the whole progress of the phenomenon, from the first appearance of 44 order to its final consummation ? If you have, then cite your experience, 41 and deliver your theory" This celebrated argument appears to me to be little more than an amplifica- tion of that which Xenophon puts into the mouth of Aristodemus, in his conver- sation with Socrates, concerning the existence of the Deity. 441 behold (says 44 he) none of those governors of the world, whom you speak of; whereas here, 44 I see artists actually employed in the execution of their respective works." The reply of Socrates, too, is in substance the same with what has been since retorted on Philo, by some of Mr. Hume's opponents. 4l Neither, ye', Aristo- 44 demus, seest thou thy soul, which, however, most assuredly governs thy body : 44 Although it may well seem, by thy manner of talking, that it is chance and 44 not reason which governs thee." Whatever additional plausibility Philo may have lent to the argument of Aristodemus, is derived from the authority of that much abused maxim ofthe inductive logic, that44 all our knowledge is entirely derived from experience." It is curious, that Socrates should have touched with such precision on one of the most important exceptions with which this maxim must be received. Our knowledge of our own existence as sentient and intelligent beings, is (as I for»- merly endeavoured to shew) not an inference from experience, but a funda- mental law of human belief. All that experience can teach me of my internal frame, amounts to a knowledge ofthe various mental operations whereof I am conscious; but what light does experience throw on the origin of my notions ol personality and identity ? Is it from having observed a constant conjunction be- tween sensations and sentient beings ; thoughts aud thinking beings; volitions * Havinp mentioned the name of this eminent person, I eagerly embrace ihe opportunity of acknowledging the instruction I have lecebed, not only from his various publication*, but from Ihe private literary communications with which he has repeatedly favoured me. From one of these (containing animadversions on nonie paf-aj:e« in my Etsay on ihe Sut>- lime,) I entertain hopes of being permitted omalte a few extracts in a future ediii.m ot that performance. Bv hi* candid and liberal stricture', I have felr my*elf highly honoured ; and should be proud lo record, in his own words, the directions he lm« su(r<:e.