CO
A DEFENCE
OF
PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT
A DEFENCE
OF
PHILOSOPHIC DOU
BEING AN ESSAY ON
THE FOUNDATIONS OF BELIEF
BY
ARTHUR JAMES BALFOUR, M.A., M.P.
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1879
right of translation is rc^r^
As, to the religious, it will seem absurd to set forth any justification
for Religion ; so, to the scientific, it will seem absurd to defend Science.
Yet to do the last is certainly as needful as to do the first
HERBERT SPENCER
A doctrine is first received as an intuitive truth, standing beyond all
need of demonstration ; then it becomes the object of rigid demonstration ;
afterwards the demonstration ceases to be conclusive, and is merely probable ;
and, finally, the effort is limited to demonstrating that there is no conclusive
reason on the other side. In the later stages of belief, the show of demon
stration is mere bluster, or is useful only to trip up an antagonist
LESLIE STEPHEN
PREFACE.
IT is NOT NECESSARY to preface this Essay by any
precise account of its scope and design. It may be
sufficiently described by saying that it is a piece
of destructive criticism, formed by a series of argu
ments of a highly abstract character. The reader
who is not deterred by this description from reading
the work will find, I think, no difficulty in under
standing its plan.
It may be convenient to mention that the first
and sixth chapters and the Appendix have already
appeared in Mind ; and that the thirteenth chapter
was published in the Fortnightly Review. In
each case there have been some verbal alterations,
but nothing deserving the name of an alteration in
substance. The sixth chapter elicited a short reply
from Professor Caird, which will be found in the
number of Mind for this month. For reasons
which I there gave I have not thought it necessary
to make any important changes in consequence of
his remarks.
vi PREFACE.
I must not omit to acknowledge the great and
unvarying kindness which my brother-in-law, Mr.
HENRY SIDGWICK, has shown in criticising the various
portions of the Essay as they were written. His
interest in the work, and his suggestions for its
improvement, have both been invaluable ; and I have
the more reason to be grateful for them, owing to
the fact that, in many respects, his point of view
differs widely from my own.
WHITTINGHAME:
January 1879.
*jt* The original title of this book was A Defence of Philosophic
Scepticism/ and it was even for a short time advertised under this
name. It was, however, pointed out to me that, considering the
nature of its contents, the number of people who would read the book
would probably bear an infinitely small proportion to the number of
people who would read only its title, and that most of those who read
the title without reading the book would assume that by Scepticism
was meant scepticism in matters of religion. As I could deny the
accuracy neither of the premises nor of the conclusion of this piece of
reasoning, I substituted the present for the original title, in the hope
that, though it is, as I think, less accurate, it may at all events prove
less misleading.
CONTENTS
PART I.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. ON THE IDEA OF A PHILOSOPHY i
II. EMPIRICAL LOGIC . . . 15
III. INDUCTION .... -3
IV. HISTORICAL INFERENCE . .... 45
PART II.
V. INTRODUCTION TO PART II. . . 73
VI. TRANSCENDENTALISM . . . . . . 85
VII. THREE ARGUMENTS FROM POPULAR PHILOSOPHY . 138
VIII. THE AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND OF
ORIGINAL BELIEFS . . . . . .154
IX. PSYCHOLOGICAL IDEALISM 178
X. THE TEST OF INCONCEIVABILITY 194
XI. MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM . ... 209
Vlll
CONTENTS.
PART III.
CHAPTER PAGE
XII. SCIENCE AS A LOGICAL SYSTEM .... 242
XIII. THE EVOLUTION OF BELIEF 260
SUMMARY ... . 277
PRACTICAL RESULTS . . . . 296
NOTE ON THE DISCREPANCY BETWEEN SCIENCE AND
RELIGION .... ... 328
APPENDIX.
ON THE IDEA OF A PHILOSOPHY OF ETHICS . . . 335
A
DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
Err a ta
Page 67, last line but one, for the. read this
99, line 14, for transcendental] st read transcendental! s.ti
153, heading of page, for Natural read Popular
156, line 6, after self-evident insert beliefs
228, 21, for to all read at all
274, ,, 14, their ,, this
303, , 11, the this
named thus : Science, Metaphysics, Ethics, and
Philosophy. By Science is meant here, not only what
commonly goes by that name, but also history, and
knowledge of particular matters of fact ; so that
knowledge of phenomena and the relations subsist
ing between phenomena would be a more accurate,
though less convenient, expression for what is
intended. In Metaphysics is included, not only Theo
logy and all doctrines of the Absolute, but also (and
this is not necessarily the same thing) all real or
supposed knowledge of entities which are not phe
nomenal.
viii CONTENTS.
PART III.
CHAPTER PAGE
XII. SCIENCE AS A LOGICAL SYSTEM . . 242
XIII. THE EVOLUTION OF BELIEF 260
SUMMARY . . . 277
T3T? Ar T ir AT PT7QTTTTQ 2nfi
A
DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
PART I.
CHAPTER I.
ON THE IDEA OF A PHILOSOPHY.
EVERYTHING that we know, or think we know, may
be classed under one of four heads, which, without
departing very widely from ordinary usage, may be
named thus : Science, Metaphysics, Ethics, and
Philosophy. By Science is meant here, not only what
commonly goes by that name, but also history, and
knowledge of particular matters of fact ; so that
knowledge of phenomena and the relations subsist
ing between phenomena would be a more accurate,
though less convenient, expression for what is
intended. In Metaphysics is included, not only Theo
logy and all doctrines of the Absolute, but also (and
this is not necessarily the same thing) all real or
supposed knowledge of entities which are not phe
nomenal.
B
2 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
What is meant by Ethics I have shown at length
in the Appendix which will be found at the end of
the volume. Here it is only necessary to say that
it includes, not only what are commonly called moral
systems, but also some analogous systems not usually
so described.
Multitudes of propositions, all professing to em
body knowledge belonging to one of these depart
ments, are being continually put forward for our
acceptance. And as no one believes all of them, so
those who profess to act rationally must hold that
there are grounds for rejecting the propositions they
disbelieve, and for accepting those they believe.
The systematic account of these grounds of belief
and disbelief makes up the fourth of the classes into
which possible knowledge is divided, and is here
always called Philosophy.
If it be objected that this is not the common
meaning of the term, I reply that it would be difficult
to point out what the common meaning is. It has
been used, perhaps, most frequently in England, as
being equivalent to Psychology, which is properly a
department of science. But researches after the
absolute are also called philosophical, and these
belong to ontology. Ethics is sometimes called
moral philosophy, as science is sometimes called
natural philosophy ; while Logic, which a very
common usage regards as a branch of philosophy,
would, as I shall presently explain, be included in it
CHAP, i.] ON THE IDEA OF A PHILOSOPHY. 3
also by my definition. So that there cannot, on the
whole, be much harm in using the term to represent
a definite subject of investigation for which there is
no other word.
It follows directly from this definition, that how
ever restricted the range of possible knowledge may
be, philosophy can never be excluded from it. For
unless the restriction be purely arbitrary, there must
be reasons for it ; and it is the systematic account of
these reasons which is here called philosophy. So
that even if it should turn out that Metaphysics is
an illusion, and only * positive knowledge is attain
able, this discovery would be so far from destroying
philosophy that it is only by philosophy that it could
be established.
If mankind was in the condition of believing
nothing, and without a bias in any particular direc
tion, was merely on the look-out for some legitimate
creed, it would not, I conceive, be possible, a priori,
to name any of the positive characteristics which
the philosophy corresponding to that creed must ne
cessarily possess. But since this is by no means
the case, since everybody has a certain number of
scientific beliefs, and most people have a certain
number of ethical and metaphysical (theological)
ones, it may be possible to describe some of the at
tributes which should be found in a philosophy pro
fessing to support these provisional conclusions.
For example. Since no one supposes that all
B 2
4 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
the propositions we believe are self-evident, it may
be assumed that the greater number of them are
legitimate inferences from propositions which are
self-evident. And from this it follows that philo
sophy must consist of two main departments, one of
which deals with these ultimate, or self-evident pro
positions, the other with modes of inference.
I do not forget that some writers have held that
the truth of a system is to be inferred, not from any
self-evident propositions lying at its root, but from
the consistency and coherence of its parts, though
each of these taken by itself is by no means self-
evident. Of such a system it would apparently be
incorrect to say that one part is ultimate and another
derivative ; it ought rather to be said, that the truth
of the whole is an inference from the consistency of
the parts, while the truth of the parts is an inference
from the truth of the whole. But even on this
theory the formula above stated holds good, for such
systems, so far from being self-contained (as it were)
and sufficient evidence for themselves, are really, as
a little consideration will show, dependent for- their
validity on some such proposition as this all that is
coherent is true. Which is itself again either ulti
mate or derivative.
This double function is an important character
istic of a complete philosophy ; let me now mention
another which, though it would seem sufficiently
obvious, is continually ignored, It may be stated
CHAP, i.] ON THE IDEA OF A PHILOSOPHY. <
thus : The business of philosophy is to deal with
the grounds, not the causes of belief/
There is no distinction which has to be kept
more steadily in view than this between the causes
or antecedents which produce a belief, and the
grounds or reasons which justify one. The enquiry
into the first is psychological, the enquiry into the
second is philosophical, and they belong therefore
(according to the classification just announced) to
entirely distinct departments of knowledge.
No doubt, in constructing a philosophy, a pre
vious psychological enquiry may be required. It
may be necessary to acquaint ourselves with the
various modes by which we arrive at conviction,
before we can select those which are legitimate. But
what we must not do, and what we are very apt to
do, is to suppose that by performing the first opera
tion satisfactorily, we absolve ourselves from per
forming the second at all. In the face of modern
discovery we have continually to recollect that no
progress made in tracing the history of opinions, no
development of the theory of association of ideas, no
application of the doctrine of evolution to mind,
however much they may prepare the ground for a
philosophy, add, or can add, one fragment to its
structure.
Thus, it is never a final answer to philosophy to
say of a particular belief, it is innate, connate, em
pirical, or, a priori, the result of inheritance, or the
6 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
product of the association of ideas. Psychology is
satisfied by such replies, but to make psychology the
rational foundation for philosophy, is to make a de
partment of science support that on which all science
is by definition supposed to rest. It is strictly im
possible that any solution of the question How
came I to believe this ? should completely satisfy
the demand Why ought I to believe it ? though,
especially in the case of derivative beliefs, it may go
some way towards it. In the case of what profess
\tG be ultimate beliefs, discussions as to their origin
Vare either philosophically irrelevant, or else prove to
demonstration that they are not ultimate. This will
perhaps be clearer if we take a concrete case. Let
us suppose that the result of a particular psycho
logical investigation is that a certain judgment, e.g.,
Everything has a cause/ is a priori The psy
chologist who makes this discovery is apt to trespass
on the domain of philosophy, and add, it is there
fore true. Now if everything has a cause is to be
accepted as true, because it is a priori? then for
that very reason it is not ultimate ; two propositions
at least must be accepted before it : ist, all a priori
judgments are true, and, 2nd, this is an a priori
judgment. Both of which are assertions both dis
putable and disputed. So in loose philosophical
discussion it is very common to advance some prin
ciple as being self-evident, neither requiring nor
possessing any justification, and immediately after-
CHAP, i.] ON THE IDEA OF A PHILOSOPHY. 7
wards to adduce in its support some such argument
as that it is common to all men, or that it has
been implanted in our nature by a benevolent and all-
wise Creator. In such cases it is clear either that
the principles in question are not self-evide nt, or
that the arguments used to support them are super
fluous.
It is by the consideration of such fallacies as
these that I have been induced to use the word
ultimate, when the expression a priori might ap
pear the most natural. A priori means indepen
dent of experience ; but independent of experience
is ambiguous. It may mean either that experience
has not produced the judgment in question, or that
it furnishes no grounds for believing it. The first
meaning is quite beside the purpose ; philosophy has
no direct concern with the origin of beliefs, which,
as before stated, is part of the subject-matter of
psychology. The second meaning, on the other
hand, while it excludes experience as a ground of
belief, and so far expresses the desired idea, does
not express the full differentia of ultimate beliefs ;
viz. that we require no grounds for believing them at
all. On the contrary, it sometimes seems to suggest
itself directly as a reason for accepting a judgment
(as if the fact that experience did not prove any
thing was a ground for believing it), and sometimes
mediately, as showing that the constitution of our
mind when in a healthy condition impels us to
8 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [ PART i.
believe it, or that it was implanted in us by the
Author of our being ; which reasons, whether good
or bad, show, by the very fact that they are given
as reasons, that the judgment called a priori is not
ultimate.
While, then, it is evidently not the business of
philosophy to account for ultimate axioms and
modes of inference, it is also clear (though it may be
hardly necessary to make the remark) that it is not
its business to prove them. To prove any conclu
sion is to show that it legitimately follows from a
true premiss ; so that if we were obliged to perform
this operation for our axioms and modes of inference
before they were to be received as ultimate, we
should be driven either to argue in a circle or to an
infinite regress. Indeed, this will sufficiently appear
if we reflect that all we mean by ultimate is inde
pendent of proof.
But if philosophy is neither to investigate the
causes nor to prove the grounds of belief, what, it
may be asked, is it to do ? Its business, as I appre
hend it, is to disengage the latter, to distinguish them
from what simulates to be ultimate, and to exhibit
them in systematic order.
What is meant here by disengaging the grounds
of belief in contradistinction to proving them, will
appear more clearly if we consider what is done by
deductive logic. Deductive logic, apart from the
practical rules with which it is encumbered, is (ac-
CHAP, i.l ON THE IDEA OF A PHILOSOPHY.
cording to the terminology here employed) neither
an art nor a science, but a systematic account of an
ultimate mode of inference by which it may be dis
tinguished from all other modes, whether legitimate
or illegitimate, whether ultimate or derivative : it is
therefore by definition a branch of philosophy.
Now when deductive logic says that any three
propositions which can be reduced to the form, All
A is B, all C is A ; . . all C is B, are legitimately
connected as premises and conclusion, whatever may
be their content, it is by no means meant that such
pieces of reasoning derive their validity from the
fact of their corresponding with the formula. It
simply means, to distinguish and mark off a certain
mode of inference by giving a general description
of it; each particular example of such inference
being in itself the witness of its own validity.
This example explains the procedure of Phi
losophy with regard to inferences the axioms of
mathematics furnish an illustration of its procedure
in the matter of ultimate principles. Two hundred
and forty pence and twenty shillings, being each
equal to a pound, are equal to one another, is one
of an indefinite number of similar self-evident propo
sitions, which are described by saying that things
which are equal to the same thing are equal to one
another ; but which do not require to be deduced
from such general description in order to make them
certain. Such a deduction is, no doubt, possible.
io A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
I may, if I please, say, things which are equal, &c.
Two hundred and forty pence and twenty shillings
are things which are equal, &c., therefore they are
equal to each other. But such a syllogism would
be as frivolous as Mr. Mill supposes all syllogisms
to be ; and for this reason, viz. that the conclusion
is quite as obvious and certain as the premiss which
is introduced to prove it.
It is conceivable, of course, that the axioms at
the basis of knowledge are incapable of classification ;
that no two of them have anything in common except
the fact that they are ultimate. In such an event
the business of philosophy will be to enumerate,
instead of describing them. But this can hardly be
the case with modes of inference. The philosophy
of deduction is already, comparatively speaking,
complete ; and though the same cannot be said of
any other mode of inference, it is difficult to believe
that the bond connecting premises and conclusion
differs in every case, so as to exclude the possibility
of classification. Something very distantly approach
ing this state of things would exist if each depart
ment of knowledge had a mode of reasoning peculiar
to itself, as some have supposed, e.g., theology to
have.
To classify inferences is to exhibit what is called
their common form. And it is plain that if of two
inferences, which by classification have the same
form, one is false and the other true, the classification
ON THE IDEA OF A PHILOSOPHY. n
which connects them is philosophically worthless.
There would be no use in deductive logic, for in
stance, if some syllogisms in Barbara were trust
worthy and others not.
It follows from this very obvious remark that
every kind of logic, if it is to be philosophical, must
be formal. The whole object of a philosophy of
inference being to distinguish valid and ultimate
inferences from those which are invalid or deriva
tive, this can only be done either by exhibiting the
common form or forms of such inferences, or (on the
violent hypothesis that they have no common forms)
by enumerating every concrete instance. To enun
ciate a form of inference which shall include both
valid and invalid examples, can at best only have a
psychological interest; philosophically, it is only
misleading. These remarks will be found of im
portance when we come to consider theories of
inference other than syllogistic ones.
The same remark applies, mutatis mutandis, to
any classification of ultimate propositions.
There is no ground a priori (i.e. following
from the idea of a philosophy) for supposing that
ultimate judgments are all general or all par
ticular. Of course, if they are the latter, there must
be some legitimate mode of reasoning from par
ticulars without the help of general propositions.
I have now, shortly and incompletely, but I hope
at sufficient length for my purpose, sketched out the
12 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
form to which any reasonable system of belief must
be capable of being reduced. What I desire to do
in the remainder of this essay is to examine how far
-not certainly every creed current among man
kind, nor even those which are accepted by educated
and civilised men, but the vast system of modern
physical science conforms to this standard. This is
only a fragment of the whole subject ; but even this,
if pursued in detail, would demand volumes for its
complete treatment, not to speak of an author inti
mately acquainted with the methods and results of
every one of the sciences. I need not say that nothing
of the kind is aimed at here. I propose to deal only
with the roots, so to speak, from which all sciences,
however far they may spread their branches, ulti
mately spring ;_roots which are special to no science,
but common to all; and even of this subject, so
limited and doubly limited, I shall not attempt a
complete treatment, though I trust it may be suf
ficient for the end in view.
Now, there are several ways in which the subject
so sketched out might be attacked ; all of them, so far
as abstract reason is concerned, equally legitimate.
We might begin, for example, by taking science as
it stands, and tracing back each particular thread
of argument till we arrived at the unproved and un-
provable belief on which it must ultimately depend.
Such a method would be complete, but to carry it
out would require a writer with a great deal of
CHAP, i.] ON THE IDEA OF A PHILOSOPHY. 13
knowledge and a reader with a great deal of time.
Again, we might attempt to find, by a process of
mere casual exploration, all the axioms which are
really self-evident, and all the processes of inference
which are obviously sound, and then see how far a
dogmatic structure resting on them could be made
to harmonise with the received body of the sciences.
This method of procedure is, however, too unsyste
matic to be likely to produce good results, even if it
could be made to produce any results at all : I there
fore incline to the more convenient, though less
ambitious plan, of starting with the clearest and most
plausible statement of the most ordinary view of
scientific philosophy, and seeing how far this will
carry us towards the goal we desire to reach. When
this fails us, it will then be time to examine what help
can be derived from other and less popular systems.
Now, the most ordinary view of scientific philo
sophy I take to be this : that science, in so far as
it consists of a statement of the laws of phenomena,
is founded entirely on observation and experiment ;
that observation and experiment, in fact, furnish not
only the occasions of scientific discovery, but also the
sole evidence of scientific truth,_evidence, however,
which is considered by most men of science not only
amply sufficient, but also as good as any which can
be well imagined. Considering, however, what a
large number of persons there are who suppose
themselves to derive all their knowledge from these
i 4 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
sources, it is somewhat remarkable that we should
have so little information respecting the precise
method by which this feat is to be accomplished. At
first sight, indeed, the problem may not seem a hard
one. We are constantly drawing inferences from
experience by methods which do not appear to be
very abstruse ; and all that it may seem necessary
to do is to extend the operation of these methods to
the utmost limits of knowledge to prove, in other
words, the most general propositions respecting the
course of Nature in exactly the same manner as we
are accustomed to prove the more limited truths by
which we guide our daily life.
Whether this is possible or not is the point
which I propose to examine in the next section.
And in doing so I cannot pursue a more convenient
course than to take as my text Mr. Mill s Logic/
which professes to solve this initial problem in an
affirmative sense.
CHAP, ii.] EMPIRICAL LOGIC 15
CHAPTER II.
EMPIRICAL LOGIC.
THERE are two points of view from which any system
of logic may be criticised. We may consider, first,
how far it gives a satisfactory account of those
methods of inference with which it professes to deal ;
and, secondly, how far it is complete in the sense of
dealing with all methods of inference. The first of
these conditions, of course, every logic which is worth
anything must satisfy. Mr. Mill challenges criticism
under the second head also. He considers not only
that he has told us all about some modes of inference,
but that he has told us all about all all, that is, of
course, which are legitimate ; so that if we only
master his book, we shall be acquainted with every
method by which mediate truths are or can be derived
from those which are immediate.
This completeness of range is not attained, how
ever, by adding on new methods to those which have
already been reduced to system, but rather by bring
ing forward one single method, and announcing that
all others are either modifications of this or are not
concerned with inference at all. It is in this last way
1 6 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
that Mr. Mill disposes of the syllogism. I have too
great a regard for him, and attach too great weight
to the formidable list of authorities whom he quotes
as witnesses to its truth and importance, to treat his
celebrated speculation on this subject in anything but
a serious spirit. At the same time, I must confess
that it appears to me to originate in a misuse of lan
guage, and to end in an important philosophic error.
This doctrine, discovered by Mr. Mill and ap
plauded by Sir John Herschel and Professor Bain, is,
on its negative side, this : There can be no inference
from the premises of a syllogism, because in the
major premiss there is already asserted what is
afterwards asserted in the conclusion.
Now, when a logician puts any mode of inference
on its trial, he has to decide two questions concern
ing it, and, so far as I can see, only two. First, does
it involve a progress from what is known to what is
not known ? (the answer to this question decides
whether it is or is not a mode of inference). Secondly,
if there is a progress from the known to the unknown,
is that progress justified ? (the answer to this ques
tion decides whether the mode of inference is legiti
mate). The first question is, so to speak, a question of
Fact ; the second question is one of Law. Now, taking
in the case of the Syllogism the second question first,
no one has everthought of denying that if, in that form,
there is any inference at all, it is legitimate. The
conclusion may not be inferred from the premises ;
CHAP. IT.] EMPIRICAL LOGIC. 17
but, at any rate, if these are true, it is true. So that
the only question that remains to be decided is the
question of fact. Do we, as a matter of fact, when
we employ a syllogism, ever proceed from what we
do know or think we know to what we do not know ?
This question can certainly only be answered in the
affirmative ; and, indeed, it is so answered by Mill
himself, at least by implication. 1
But, says Mr. Mill, 2 are we warranted in as
serting a general proposition without having satis
fied ourselves of the truth of everything which it
fairly includes ? Supposing we give the expected
answer, and agree that we are not warranted,
then Mr. Mill would go on to say this is equivalent
to allowing that we ought not to assert any major
premiss unless we are already acquainted with the
conclusion, because the conclusion is undoubtedly
something fairly included in the major premiss ;
and it is absurd to say that a truth which we must
know before we can assert another truth can be con
cluded from it. To this I reply, that even if it be
true that we have no right to assert the major pre
miss unless we previously believe the conclusion,
that is not a matter with which logic has any concern.
So long as, in point of fact, we do assert the major
premiss without first believing the conclusion, so long
will the latter be an inference from the former, and
so long will the syllogism be the formal statement of
1 Logic, vol. \. p. 206. 2 Ibid. vol. i. p. 207.
i8 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
that inference. Granted that a major premiss arrived
at by any process which does not independently
prove the conclusion is illegitimate, still, if it is ar
rived at, it is in no way prevented by the illegitimacy
of its origin from being the basis of a real inference,
and of one which, in relation to its premises, is
correct.
So far, then, it appears to me that on his own
data Mr. Mill uses misleading language about the
functions of the syllogism ; but if this was all, I should
not so long have troubled the reader about the matter.
If the controversy turned simply on whether we
should use the word infer or the word interpret/
whether we should talk of drawing a conclusion
from or of drawing a conclusion according to/ a
formula, the matter might be left to professed logi
cians, with only this recommendation that if they
decide in each case on the second alternative, it
would be well to revise the common definition of the
word infer.
The really important thing which gives a certain
amount of plausibility to Mr. Mill s theory of the
syllogism is the doctrine that all inference is from
particulars ; and this is mixed up in such a manner
with the general argument which I have been
discussing above, that careless readers carry away,
I am convinced, a sort of general idea that it
follows from taking the correct by which they
mean Mr. Mill s view of the functions of the
CHAP, ii.] EMPIRICAL LOGIC. 19
syllogism. The truth is that Mr. Mill s criticism
of the ordinary theory of the syllogism, where it
is not merely verbal, so far from proving this doc
trine, depends on it for its whole effect. Supposing
we know any general proposition with the same im
mediate certainty that we know any of the particular
propositions which serve as a foundation for Induc
tion, then, if it is formally possible to make any
deductions from it at all (which will not, I suppose, be
denied), one of these things must be true either by
the mere act of knowing the general proposition we
know * everything which it fairly includes, so that
the deduction, though possible, is superfluous ; or
else we can proceed by the syllogistic process from
something we know to something we do not know,
and which, it may be, can be arrived at by no other
method. Now, the first of these alternatives certainly
cannot be proved, and I think I may affirm without
exaggeration that it is extravagantly absurd ; we are,
therefore, reduced to the second alternative, which in
effect amounts to this : that, on a certain supposition
respecting the nature of our ultimate premises, the
syllogism would not only be a mode of inference, but
would be a formal statement of the only mode of
inference which it would be in our power to use.
The substantial part, in short, of Mill s attack
on the syllogism amounts to this, that in every
case where we deduce a conclusion from a general
proposition, the ultimate grounds for our believing
C 2
20 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
that conclusion is a process of inference by which
both the general proposition and the conclusion can
be co-ordinately proved; and this again is founded
on the doctrine that all inference is from particulars.
Before following out this important philosophic
doctrine, as held by Mr. Mill, to some of its results,
I have three general remarks to make on it. Firstly,
whether it be true or untrue, it does not lie within
the province of Logic either to prove it or to assume
it. As Mr. Mill himself very properly remarks :
With the original data or ultimate premises of our
knowledge ; with their number or nature . . . logic,
in a direct way at least, has, in the sense in which I
conceive the science, nothing to do. These questions
are partly not a subject of science at all, and partly
that of a very different science. 1 In the second place,
whether the doctrine be true or untrue, it is impossible
in any general way to prove it. It is possible no doubt
for a man to go over all his beliefs in turn, and find to
his own satisfaction that whenever they are not imme
diate, they are ultimately inferred from particulars ;
but he can hardly show that this is a necessary cha
racteristic of all conclusions. Something would be
done in this direction if it could be proved that there
was no satisfactory method known by which infer
ences could be drawn from general propositions :
unfortunately, it seems at present easier to show this
of particular ones.
1 Logic, vol. i. p. 6.
CHAP, ii.] EMPIRICAL LOGIC. 21
My third remark is, that if the views on ethics
expressed in the Appendix are correct, the whole of
our morality must be deduced from general pro
positions which are not, and which cannot be, them
selves inferences from particulars. To ethical in
ferences, therefore, Mr. Mill s theory is- altogether
inapplicable.
Let us, however, assume with Mr. Mill that all
our knowledge springs ultimately from particular
experiences, and that there is therefore but one
fundamental type of inference namely, inference
from particulars by * simple enumeration what
rules has he to give us by which we may judge how
far in any given case the operation of inferring is
legitimately performed ? We should expect before
hand that in a work on logic, consisting of two large
volumes, and founded on this particular view of
inference, the systematic account of such rules would
form a considerable part. This is not so. What
Mr. Mill has to say on the subject is scattered up
and down his book, chiefly in connection with certain
concrete examples, and must be collected for pur
poses of criticism from these ; so that we have the
singular phenomenon of a work professing to treat
mainly of inference, in which the universal type of
inference is treated of only incidentally !
How this comes about most of my readers are
probably already aware : it is well known that the
mode by which, according to Mr. Mill, we arrive at
22 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
a law of nature is by discovering, through one of the
Four Methods/ that A is causally connected in a
particular instance with B, and then, by virtue of the
law of universal causation, extending this discovery
to other times and other places : the general pro
position expressing the law of causation being thus
the major premiss of the syllogism by which the
discovery is established.
Omitting the case of mathematical truths, we
have, therefore, hardly any cause to employ the
universal type of reasoning, except for the pur
pose of proving the law of universal causation. But
since this is not only the most important but also
the most perfect example of its application, we
cannot do better than follow Mr. Mill s (from some
points of view rather singular) course, and examine
it chiefly in this connection.
The first important thing to note is that the
legitimacy of this sort of reasoning does not depend
on its form. Without going the length of Mr. Mill,
and asserting that inference from particulars never
can be formally cogent, we may safely say that as yet
neither Mr. Mill nor any one else has shown how it
is to be made so.
Now, to say that the legitimacy of any piece of
reasoning does not depend on its form is the same
as saying that, if you want to know if it is correct,
you must determine the fact by means of extraneous
considerations. If (to put the matter in a more
CHAP, ii.] EMPIRICAL LOGIC. 23
concrete way) a particular mode of reasoning gives
me A as an inference from B, and a precisely similar
mode gives me C as an inference from D (both B
and D being supposed to be true), then, if I find that
A is not true, or, at any rate, is not proved, I must
have some other reason for believing C to be true
than that it is inferred from D in exactly the same
manner as A was from B. So much is plain. Now
let us apply these general remarks to the particular
case of the Law of Universal Causation.
The Law of Universal Causation is an inference
from particulars by simple enumeration. It has
been found a certain number of times to be true ;
it has never (I allow this for the sake of argument),
it has never, I say, been known to be false. This is
the statement, and as far as I can judge the complete
statement, of the inductive argument on which it
rests. 1 But if we trust as a rule to this same induc
tive argument, we shall, says Mill, in general err
grossly. It is clear therefore that we must distin
guish the correct argument by which the Law of
Causation is proved from the incorrect arguments
which it exactly resembles ; and this it is equally
clear can only be done by means of considerations to
be found outside of the argument itself. What are
these considerations ? They can be seen on page
102 of the second volume of the Logic, and may
be paraphrased somewhat in the following way :
1 Vol. ii. p. 102.
24 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
Certain sequences may be observed to be con
stant and invariable within limits which, compared
with the total range of time and space open to
human observation, are restricted. It is hazardous
to assume that these sequences will obtain much
beyond the sphere in which they have been observed
to be true, because they may be the result not of
direct causation but of an arrangement, or collo
cation of causes ; and this arrangement, and con
sequently its effects, may only exist within the limits
where it has been observed. If, however, we sup
pose the sphere in which we have observed such a
sequence to be gradually extended, then, in pro
portion as it approaches to the total range open
to human observation, in that proportion will the
observed sequence approach the certainty and uni
versality of a law of nature, until ultimately the two
become indistinguishable. This is the case with the
Law of Causation.
Now the objection that has to be made to this
method of proof is that it assumes the whole ques
tion at issue. The distinction between sequences
which are the result of direct causation and sequences
which depend on the collocation of causes, has no
meaning unless we assume a universe governed by
causation ; and the existence of such a universe is
the very thing we want to demonstrate. Grant all
that Mr. Mill or Mr, Bain could desire and a great
deal more than could be proved grant that at every
CHAP, ii.] EMPIRICAL LOGIC. 25
time and in every place throughout that very limited
portion of time and space open to human observation
every event has had a cause, and every cause has
been always followed by the same event, we should
still be no nearer proving that an inference founded
on these particulars was more likely to be accurate
than an inference founded on any other particu
lars, so long as the only distinction between the two
assumed a universe of the very kind we wished to
prove. And this is precisely what Mr. Mill s dis
tinction does assume. It is dangerous in an ordinary
way (he says) to infer from particulars ; but we may
do so safely if our induction is sufficiently wide. And
why ? Because we shall then be sure that what we
have observed is not due to chance or the accidental
collocation of causes, but to the direct operation of
causation. This is doubtless a most excellent canon
of criticism, and one which may enable us to judge
of the worth of many inferences by simple enumer
ation. There is, however, one such inference which
it can never enable us to judge of, and that is the
Law of Causation itself.
This expedient for placing the empirical argu
ment in favour of the uniformity of nature on a sure
basis may seem rather clumsy, but the truth is, that,
though not good, it is as good as any other which it
was possible for Mr. Mill, with his views about the
sources of knowledge, to suggest.
For in a general way we may lay it down that
26 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
since by informal inference we mean inference of
which the truth cannot be discovered from the form,
any attempt to prove a conclusion by means of such
inference, can only be made even apparently effec
tive in one of three ways : Firstly, we may distin
guish the legitimate from the illegitimate application
of the method by means of some principle which is
itself arrived at by that method. This is Mr. Mill s
device, and involves a more or less obvious argu
ment in a circle. Or, secondly, our principle of dis
tinction may be given either a priori, or by some
other mode of inference. This plan, though common
enough, is of course inconsistent with empirical
philosophy, at any rate as conceived by Mr. Mill.
Or, thirdly, we may adopt no extraneous principle of
distinction at all, but simply affirm that of two similar
cases of inferences we perceive one to be cogent
and the other not.
I am not aware that any philosopher has for
mally adopted this last expedient. In reality, how
ever, it is hardly to be distinguished from those
theories according to which particular experiences
are the occasions of our forming intuitive judg
ments. It is true that in the one case the particular
experiences are called reasons/ and in the other
occasions, and that a system founded on the first
would be called empirical, and one founded on the
second intuitional/ But except in the names there
is no important difference between the two. For
CHAP, ii.] EMPIRICAL LOGIC. 27
why are we to accept the conclusion supposed to be
proved by the reasons ? Because of the cogency
of the reasoning? Not at all. Precisely similar
reasoning from equally true premises frequently
leads to gross error/ We accept this example of
reasoning, if we do accept it, in exactly the same
way as, by the theories I allude to, certain judgments
are accepted ; in the one case it is the reasoning
which is known to be valid by a special intuition,
and in the other it is the judgment.
It would not, therefore, have been open to Mr.
Mill to take this view of the proof by which the
Law of Causation is established. It is in reality,
though not in form, an intuitional proof ; and so
anxious is he to be free from any taint of intuitivism,
that of the chapter nominally devoted to proving the
law, he has thought it expedient to devote a quarter
to disproving the intuitive proofs of other people ;
and if the reader will refer to the early part of that
chapter he will see that Mr. Mill s dialectic would be
quite as effective against the particular intuitional
doctrine, which, as I have explained above, lies con
cealed under an empirical disguise, as it is against
those more usual and orthodox theories with which
we are familiar.
In the foregoing attack on Mr. Mill s view of
inference, in so far, at least, as it is applied to the
proof of the law of universal causation, I have said
nothing which, as I imagine, has not, in one shape
28 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
or another, suggested itself to many students of his
logic. But I am anxious to explain that the fact of
singling him out for criticism implies a recognition of
his merits even more than of his defects. If his
empirical view of the universe is peculiarly easy to
attack, it is not because his method of proof is less
satisfactory than that of other empirical philosophers,
but because he saw more clearly, or at any rate
allowed his readers to see more clearly, what it was
that had to be proved, and the only method by which,
on purely empirical data, even the semblance of
proof was possible. If he failed (and I think he
failed completely), it was because he attempted what,
in the present state of our knowledge, cannot, I
believe, be accomplished.
It is impossible to deny that science is only
possible if we assume the law of universal causation ;
that, if observation and experiment be the sole foun
dation of knowledge, the law of universal causation
must be proved from particulars ; that Mr. Mill has
stated (or, if you please, has avoided stating) the
method of proof from particulars as ingeniously as
can well be imagined ; and that his statement (or
want of statement) cannot in reality stand for a
moment against hostile criticism. The most impor
tant of these points I have proved, as I think, in the
course of the preceding remarks, the rest of them I
hope the reader will admit without proof ; and I now,
therefore, go on to show, in a few words, that even
CHAP, ii.] EMPIRICAL LOGIC. 29
if legitimate inference from particulars were possible,
and the law of causation were proved, it is by no
means the adequate foundation for the superstructure
of science which Mr. Mill, and those who accept Mr.
Mill s general line of thought, appear to imagine.
5 o A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
CHAPTER III.
INDUCTION.
ADMITTING then that the course of nature is regular,
and that every event has an antecedent upon which
it invariably follows, and a consequent which in
variably follows it, the question still remains, how
are the real members of these sequences to be dis
covered ? How can we single out the causes which
produce any given effect and the effects which are
produced by any given cause ? Mr. Mill would say
(and it will again, I think, prove a convenient course
to begin the discussion by examining his opinion)
that the discovery must be made by the employment
of one of his well-known Four Methods. To see
how far the assertion is correct, it will only be neces
sary to quote two of them the first and the second.
They run as follows : If any instance in which the
phenomenon under investigation occurs, and an
instance in which it does not occur, have every cir
cumstance in common save one, that one occurring
only in the former ; the circumstance in which alone
the two instances differ is the effect, or the cause, or
an indispensable part of the cause of the pheno-
CHAP, in.] INDUCTION. 31
menon/ And if two or more instances of the
phenomenon under investigation have only one cir
cumstance in common, the circumstance in which
alone all the instances agree is the cause (or effect)
of the given phenomenon/
For the first of these methods the method of
difference Mr. Mill claims that a single instance of
its application is sufficient to prove a general law of
nature ; and in a certain sense no doubt the claim
may be allowed. It would certainly prove a general
law of nature if it could be applied ; but then it
unfortunately never can be applied. The state of
the universe is never the same at two successive
instants in every particular but one. Simultaneously
with the change falling under the special notice of
the observer, or (if it be a case of experiment) in
troduced into the phenomena by the experimenter,
there occur countless changes which he neither knows
of nor produces, and which, for anything that the
canon tells us to the contrary, may each or all of
them be the cause of the subsequent effect. A
parallel objection may be brought against the second
method that of agreement. As Mr. Mill himself
explains at length, this method can never by a single
application prove a case of causation, owing to the
fact that the same effect is often produced by more
than one cause ; so that, even if two * instances of a
phenomenon have only one circumstance in com
mon, there is a probability, but only a probability,
32 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
that that circumstance is the cause (or effect) of that
phenomenon. But has it ever occurred that two
instances of a phenomenon have only one circum
stance in common ? We may safely reply, never.
As in the case of the method of difference, the
reasoning is vitiated by the fact that the universe
never differs in two successive moments in only one
particular, so the method of agreement fails, not
only for the reason given by Mr. Mill, but because
the universe, at two successive moments, never
agrees in only one particular. And neither the one
canon nor the other shows us any grounds for select
ing from among the countless points of difference or
agreement that one which is the cause or the effect
of which we are in search.
I have stated this objection as against Mill, but
it must not be supposed that it has only weight
against Mr. Mill s statement of the law of induction.
It is equally applicable to the ordinary version of
the means whereby we obtain knowledge by experi
ment and observation, of which view, indeed, Mr.
Mill merely attempts a systematic exposition. If we
see a man swallow the contents of a phial, and imme
diately fall down dead, we conclude that his death is
the consequence of what he has drunk ; and we do
so undoubtedly on the grounds stated in the canon
of the Method of Difference. All other circum
stances seemed to remain the same except these
two his drinking the liquid and his death ; we
CHAP, in.] INDUCTION. 33
therefore pair them off as cause and effect. The
smallest reflection, however, shows that there must
have been an indefinite number of events which,
like the drinking of the liquid, immediately preceded
the death of the man ; what is not so plain is the
principle which may justify us in assuming, that
though they are antecedents of the effect, they are
no part of its cause.
Now there are two ways in which this difficulty
or ambiguity in the ordinary version of inductive
reasoning may be met. It may, in the first place,
be asserted, that by previous observation or experi
ment we may, and commonly do, arrive at some
conclusions which enable us with more or less con
fidence to select from among the phenomena which
precede an event the one which produced it. For
example, we know that there are many drugs which
taken even in small doses produce instant death ; and
this is a consideration which materially influences us
in affirming, in the case I have just used for illustra
tion, that the drinking of the contents of the phial,
and the sudden death of the man, were not mere
coincidences, but were events connected by causa
tion. But though it may be admitted that in fact
we do thus habitually use our knowledge of the
general laws of nature to guide us in the interpre
tation of particular observations or experiments, this
is no justification of inductive methods in the abstract,
since these general laws of nature must, on any em-
34 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
pirical theory, in the first instance themselves have
been arrived at by induction. It is therefore plain
that, unless we are doomed to wander in an endless
logical circuit, some inductions must be valid which
derive, or at all events require, no support from any
extraneous authority.
We turn then to the second possible solution of
the difficulty, which might be stated perhaps some
what in this way : Mr. Mill (it might be said) is
in error when he supposes that one properly con
ducted experiment can prove a law of nature, even
if the method employed be the " Method of Differ
ence." In all cases of induction we can do no more
than prove a certain law to be probable. If our ob
servations or experiments be numerous and success
ful, the probability proved may be a very high one ;
if they are few and ambiguous, it may be a very
slight one; but in either case what we prove is
probability and probability alone. This, however,
need cause us no uneasiness. If demonstrative
certainty is denied us, we may still by this method
obtain that practical certainty which is all we require
to guide us in the affairs of life.
This, I imagine, is the opinion of Professor
Jevons, elaborated at some length in The Prin
ciples of Science. That work has no pretension
to be a complete philosophy of science, since, if I
understand it rightly, the uniformity of nature is
assumed in it without proof, as a necessary condi-
CHAP, in.] INDUCTION. 35
tion of inductive enquiry ; but, this assumption once
granted, the further steps by which we arrive at a
knowledge of the laws of nature from the facts of
nature are given in detail, so that it is directly con
cerned with the subject-matter of this chapter.
Now it can hardly be doubted that Professor
Jevons is correct in .saying that by induction we can
arrive at nothing better than probability ; and that
in consequence a study of the theory of probability
is a necessary and most important part of the phi
losophy of science. But his enthusiasm for this
branch of the subject carries him perhaps rather
further than sober reason warrants. Because, apart
from the logic of chance we can do little, he seems
to suppose that, aided by the logic of chance, we
can do everything. The universe appears to him
like a gigantic ballot-box, from which the scientific
observer occupies himself in drawing and replacing
black and white balls ; and because the resources
of the calculus would enable the drawer to deter
mine, after any number of draws, the chances of
the next ball being black or white, even when the
number of the balls in the box is infinite, he ap
pears to suppose that a similar procedure will enable
the experimenter to foretell the probability of a future
event from a study of the sequences and co-existences
of phenomena in the past.
It may be doubted, however, how far the universe
can be fairly assumed to resemble a ballot-box, even
D 2
36 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
though the size of the hypothetical ballot-box be
infinite. And it is still more open to question
whether a legitimate application of the theory of
probability will permit us to hold scientific beliefs
with anything like the certainty which men of science
attach to them, even granting all the premises which
they are in the habit of claiming.
Let us, in order to make this perfectly clear, ex
amine a hypothetical case of induction, which we
may make as favourable as we choose. Let us
imagine that two phenomena, A and B, are of very
frequent occurrence; that whenever A has been
observed B has invariably followed it, and (if you
please) that whenever B has been observed A has
invariably been found to precede it. Let us further
suppose that the connection between the two has
been proved both by the method of difference
and the method of agreement, with as much
completeness as anything can be proved by these
means. Then, granting the principle of the uni
formity of nature, what probability is there that
when next A shall occur B will be found to follow
it ? It is evident that unless this probability be
very high, amounting indeed almost to practical cer
tainty, then, either the confidence with which we
commonly regard the laws of nature is greatly
exaggerated (since no law can have better experi
mental evidence than that which connects A and
B), or else some considerations not supplied by the
CHAP. HI.] INDUCTION. 37
principle of the uniformity of nature, or the logic of
induction, have been omitted from the proof.
It may be admitted at once that, in a world which
we assume to be governed by law, the invariable
sequence of B on A is a proof that there is probably
some causal link, direct or indirect, between them.
In other words, it is very unlikely that this constant
coincidence is the work of chance. What the precise
numerical value of this probability may be it is not
easy to determine, but undoubtedly it would be very
large ; and as we are at liberty to imagine as many
coincidences as we please, we may consider it as
practically infinite. This being granted, it would
seem to follow that, in a uniform world, the most
confident expectation might be entertained that when
next A appeared, it would be succeeded by B, and
this is, as I understand it, the opinion of Mr. Mill
and Mr. Jevons, as it certainly is the opinion of
ordinary common sense. It is not, however, a con
clusion which can be legitimately drawn from the
premises provided for us by inductive philosophy, as
the following considerations will show.
The fact that in our experience A invariably
precedes B gives a certain probability in favour of
A being causally connected with B. But it gives
no probability at all in favour of A being the whole
cause of B. Every cause that we are acquainted
with is complex. But there is no process whatever
by which we can show how complex it is. Mr. Mill
38 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
says somewhere that induction is a process of elimi
nation ; but he gives no method, and there is no
method, for eliminating all the phenomena which
do not co-operate with A when it produces B.
Of course it is easy to take two cases of A and
B occurring, and to say that the circumstances in
which the two cases differed cannot be necessary
for the production of B by A. But this assertion
must be carefully qualified before it is accepted. If
we could conceive the second case of A occurring to
be precisely similar to the first case except in certain
particulars, then, since B follows both times, it is plain
of course that these particulars are not necessary for
the production of B. But no such inference can be
made if the first case of A occurring has some circum
stances which the second has not, while the second
has some which the first has not. It may be that
these exceptional circumstances, though different in
each case, were in each case necessary, and that with
out them B would in neither case have followed.
This piece of reasoning will perhaps be clearer if
put in a more symbolic form : (i) A happens twice,
and is each time followed by B. The first time it
happens it is accompanied only by a, b, c ; the
second time it happens it is accompanied only by
x, y, z. It is impossible to infer from this that a, b,
c, x, y, z were not essential factors in the production
of B. (2) A happens twice and is each time followed
by B. The first time it happens it is accompanied only
CHAP. IH.1 INDUCTION. 39
by a, b, c. The second time it happens it is accom
panied only by b, c. From this it may be inferred with
certainty that a is not necessary to the production of
B. Now it is evident that the canon of elimination
which could be deduced from these two examples,
though logically perfect, can never be applied in
practice. It is like Mr. Mill s method of difference
admirable if only it could be used. Unfortunately
we know only an infinitesimal fraction of the pheno
mena which accompany any cause, and even to this
fraction the above canon can never be made to fit.
It invariably happens that the second time A occurs
it will be accompanied by some things which did not
co-exist with it before, and will not be accompanied
by some things which did co-exist with it before. It
therefore occurs under the circumstances mentioned
in the first of the above formulas, and no inference
is possible respecting the share which any of its ac
companiments have in the production of B.
But it may be said, though it is impossible to
assert positively which of the phenomena accom
panying A are not necessary for the production of
B, still if we find one of these phenomena only
occurring once in conjunction with A out of the
many times in which A occurs, we may surely assert
that in all probability it was on that occasion no factor
in the production of B.
It is not necessary for my purpose to dispute
this ; whether it could be successfully disputed or no.
40 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
For it leaves altogether unsolved the further problem
of how we are to dispose of these phenomena which
are always to be found in company with A the
fixed stars, for example. On what principle are we
to say that these are not necessary to A in order
that B may be produced ? What is to be our method
of elimination here ? It cannot evidently be experi
ment, because in this respect every experiment is
identical. For the same reason it cannot be obser
vation. It can be no deduction from the theory of
probability ; the ballot-box gives us no assistance ;
and common sense, which quietly ignores the diffi
culty, furnishes us with no hint as to the principle on
which it does so.
Now if it be admitted, as in theory I think it
must be admitted, that every phenomenon which has
always accompanied A is as likely as not to .be an
essential part of the cause of B ; it appears to follow
that our expectation that B will in the future follow
A must depend in part on our expectation that each of
the phenomena which have always accompanied A
will do so again. But these phenomena are in number
infinite. We know, or might know, thousands of
them ; yet those we know are entirely lost in the
vast multitude of those which we do not know, but
which we have every reason to believe exist in the
infinity of space. Because, therefore, we are unable
to eliminate the accompaniments of A which are not
necessary for the production of B, we have now to
CHAR HI.] INDUCTION. 41
face the further difficulty of determining the proba
bility that these accompaniments of A will co-exist
with it in the future. But this problem puts us back
precisely into the position from which we were
trying to escape. In order to solve it, we have to
traverse exactly the same ground as we had when we
were enquiring into the methods by which the causes
of B were to be discovered. For a case of persist
ence (and of course still more obviously of recurrence)
is in reality a case of caiisation. The persistence of
the planet Mars, for example, through another year
depends upon causes of which its existence at this
moment is only one. What are these other causes ?
and what is the probability of their being in operation
for another year ? These are the very questions we
asked when we were trying to determine the method
by which the antecedents of B might be discovered,
and for which we could find no answer. The con
tinued existence of the planet Mars may, for any
thing we know to the contrary, depend upon the
continued existence of the moon, a phenomenon
which, as far as our experience goes, has always co
existed with it. What then is the probability of the
moon s continuing to exist ? About this precisely
the same series of questions may be asked, meeting
with precisely the same series of unsatisfactory
answers. So that we find ourselves finally in this
position. Experiment and observation, if conducted
under favourable circumstances, can determine with
42 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
a probability approaching to certainty, that a pheno
menon A is causally connected with a phenomenon
B. But neither experiment nor observation can give
us the smallest information as to whether any of the
infinite multitude of phenomena which accompany A
whenever B is produced, are or are not necessary
parts of the cause of B ; nor can they tell us arid
for exactly the same reason anything about the
probability of a single one of these accompaniments
of A, however well we may be acquainted with it,
continuing to accompany it in the future ; still less
can they assist us in computing the chances of the
recurrence or persistence of those essential parts of
the cause of B which may exist in indefinite num
bers, but of which we know absolutely nothing. In
other words granting that the course of nature is
uniform, no scientific methods, by the help of this
principle alone, can give us any assurance that the
laws of nature, which we suppose ourselves to have
discovered, will continue to operate in the future.
What additional principle, then, must be esta
blished in order that this assurance may be obtained ?
It is evident in a general way that the principle,
whatever it may be, must be a principle of elimina
tion ; that is, it must enable us to eliminate from
among the innumerable antecedents of a phenomenon
those which we may be certain have nothing what
ever to do with its occurrence. But I confess my
self altogether unable to formulate such a principle,
CHAP, in.] INDUCTION. 43
much less to prove it. There is, no doubt, a
practical instinct, common both to the unscientific
and to the scientific observer, which induces men to
ignore as much as possible the share which either
very remote or very permanent phenomena may
have in the production of the effects for which they
are trying to account. Nobody, for example,
seriously imagines that the existence of a star in the
Milky Way is a necessary concomitant to a spark
before it can explode a barrel of gunpowder. On
the other hand, this instinct, though it is so strong
that it is not easy gravely to discuss any theory
flagrantly inconsistent with it, can hardly be accurately
defined, and certainly cannot always be trusted.
The most distant object that has ever been perceived
has had some appreciable effect on the affairs of
this planet since its perception is in itself such an
effect ; and if we consider permanence, the sun,
which has accompanied every phenomenon ever
experienced, is an essential and not very remote
link in the chain of causes, by which all the events
that occur on the surface of the globe are pro
duced.
It is evident, therefore, that the difficulty of
proving the uniformity of nature, and the law of uni
versal causation, is not the only obstacle which
stands in the way of a satisfactory empirical philo
sophy. Even granting the truth of these great
principles, it is not easy to frame with their help an
44 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
inductive logic, which shall really enable us to argue
to unobserved instances ; and, I shall show in the
next chapter, could we prove such laws, it would, to
say the least, by no means be sufficient by itself to
justify us in holding the complete scientific creed in
its ordinary shape.
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE. 45
CHAPTER IV.
HISTORICAL INFERENCE.
THE proper classification of the sciences is a subject
which has of late engaged the attention of scientific
philosophers, and is, therefore, it need not be said,
one about which there is some difference of opinion.
Into the minutiae of this controversy, the importance
of which is, perhaps, not very great, I do not pro
pose to enter ; but one broad division, not of the
sciences, indeed, but of science (for it runs across the
lines separating the particular sciences), it is neces
sary that I should recall to the reader, since it has
an important philosophic bearing on the subject in
hand, and must be constantly kept in mind through
out the following discussion.
Every statement concerning phenomena in
other words, every scientific proposition is of one
of two kinds : It expresses either a law or a fact.
That anarchy ends in despotism is a law (whether
true or not is of no moment) ; that the French Revo
lution gave birth to the power of Napoleon is a fact.
That accidental variations, which are of use to the
individual in the struggle for existence, are likely to
become permanent is a law ; that existing species are
46 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
produced by natural selection is a fact. That all
forms of energy tend to resolve themselves into heat
at equal temperatures is a law ; that the earth will
become an inert mass, containing no energy that can
be turned into work, is a fact.
Now, in so far as science is founded upon obser
vation and experiment (and on the most extrava
gantly a priori theory these must form an essential
part of its groundwork), it is plain that all the pro
positions stating laws (which I will call, the abstract
part of science) must ultimately be, to a certain extent,
founded on the propositions stating facts i.e. on the
concrete part of science. What is perhaps less plain,
but what is no less certain, is, that almost the whole
of our knowledge of concrete science is in like manner
founded upon abstract science. As regards facts
that are still in the future, this is sufficiently obvious.
.Leaving supernatural prophecy out of account, our
sole means of foretelling what is to come depends
upon our knowledge of natural laws ; and this indeed
is, according to some people, the chief reason which
makes natural laws worth investigating. A little
reflection shows that it is equally true of facts that
have already occurred, whether those facts be what
are ordinarily called scientific, as, for example, the
existence of the glacial epoch, or whether they are
what are ordinarily called historical, as, for example,
the death of Julius Caesar.
Massing these together under the common name
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE. 47
< historical/ we may say generally that a law of
nature is an essential part of every inference what
ever by which we arrive at facts which are occurring
or have occurred, other than those of which we are
immediately informed by perception or memory ; from
which it may be deduced that every principle which
is required to establish a law must be required
to establish a historical fact, though it does not follow,
of course, that these principles will be sufficient. In
order to determine this latter point, we ought in
strictness to have before us a complete list of these
principles, in order that we might apply them to
cases of historical inference. But it will be more
convenient to assume that our knowledge of the laws
of nature, as taught us by science, is to be trusted,
and that the only general principle required for
arriving at this knowledge is the law of universal
causation. On this assumption (which is sufficiently
in accordance with current philosophy) the problem
before us would be as follows : Given as premises
(ist) some knowledge of existing and recent facts
obtained immediately by perception or memory;
(2nd) a knowledge of the abstract laws of pheno
mena as set forth by science ; (3rd) the law of causa
tion can we deduce from these the ordinary version
of history, and, if not, what additional principles will
be required to enable us to do so, and what is the
evidence on which they rest ?
The first of these kinds of premises some know-
48 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
ledge of existing and recent facts is not necessary,
as might at first appear, because it is required to
establish the laws of phenomena ; for these are
already assumed. It is necessary, rather, because
without it nothing concrete could be inferred from
the abstract propositions contained under the second
and third of the above-mentioned heads. The exist
ence and distribution of phenomena at any given
period cannot be arrived at by a mere knowledge of
the laws of phenomena ; it requires also some know
ledge of the existence and distribution of phenomena at
some other period ; ultimately, therefore, our mediate
knowledge of the existence and distribution of phe
nomena, both in the past and the future, must depend
on some immediate knowledge of them, and we have
no such immediate knowledge, except concerning the
present and perhaps the recent past.
Now, although a knowledge of the laws of phe
nomena that is, of causes and their corresponding
effects is a necessary element in every inference
about concrete science, there is a most important
difference in the way in which these laws are em
ployed, according as we are dealing with the future
or with the past. For whereas every inference about
the future necessarily involves at least one argument
from cause to effect, so every inference about the
past necessarily involves at least one argument from
effect to cause, a distinction which, curiously enough,
is all in favour of that department of knowledge con-
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE. 49
cerning which we suppose ourselves to know the
least namely, the future. It seems, indeed, clear
enough that the ordinary view is correct, and that if
we knew all existing causes, and all the laws binding
them to their consequents, and if we had infinite
powers of calculation, then, assuming the law of uni
versal causation to be true, and that no new cause came
into operation, we could forecast the whole future
of the universe. The ifs here are somewhat too
large, perhaps, to make this very substantial comfort,
but, as the reader will at once perceive, it is by no
means obvious that even on similar terms we could
give a complete account of the past, because it does
not appear to be inconsistent with our assumptions
to suppose that more than one set of causes could
have produced existing effects j 1 in other words, that
more than one version of history is equally possible.
This reflection, then, points out very clearly
what is the first question we have more particularly
to examine namely, whether a knowledge of natural
laws such as we possess, combined with the principle
of causation, is sufficient to enable us to overcome
the apparent ambiguity introduced into historical
inference by the possible plurality of causes ; and, if
this question be answered in the negative, we shall
then have to determine whether any valid principle
can be found to fill up this gap in our ordinary
reasoning. The enquiry, it may be observed, is of
1 See note on p. 63.
E
5 o A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
some importance, since no issue less than this has to
be determined namely, whether a branch of science
of the greatest speculative interest, which has grown
in not very many years from an ill-considered history
of a few nations for a few centuries, to an account,
in outline at least, of the history of the whole human
race, of the organic world, of the planet on which
we dwell, and of the system to which it belongs
whether (I say) this vast department of knowledge
deserves to retain its position, or should be con
sidered as a mere collection of illustrations, by im
aginary, though possible, examples, of how natural
laws work or may work in the concrete.
In order that we may attack the problem with
the best hope of success, let us begin by considering
it as simplified by certain arbitrary limitations. The
possibility of history, as we have seen, rests on the
possibility of eliminating all sets of causes but one of
existing effects ; let us then at first take into con
sideration only one effect, and let us suppose that it
must have been produced by one of two causes,
but might have been produced by either. Under
these conditions, what we have to determine is the
ground which may justify us in asserting, as we
so often do assert, that one of them was the actual
historical cause rather than the other. To fix our
ideas, let us take a concrete case, A collection of
flints broken into shapes rudely resembling arrow
heads is found during the course of some excava-
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE. 51
tion. No human being (who need be considered)
doubts under these circumstances that one of the
causes of this striking effect was the will and in
telligence of man, though at the same time it is not
to be denied that each one of these arrow-heads, and
therefore all of them, might be the product of that
unknown collection of mechanical causes which in
this case, for convenience, we may call accident.
Why do we unhesitatingly reject accident in favour
of intelligence ? The answer is ready. The proba
bilities are infinitely in favour of the latter that
is, the chances against accident are enormously, if
indefinitely, greater than the chances against intel
ligence. This answer, which certainly commends
itself to common sense, suggests, however, a further
enquiry. On what grounds do we form this estimate
of the comparative probability of the two causes ?
It is plain that we ought to have some grounds.
The particular value that we assign to the chance of
one or other of any two possible causes being the
actual cause cannot be determined by mere abstract
speculation, but must be derived from some theory
respecting the conditions under which these causes
were likely to have acted. It is not difficult to see
that in the example before us these conditions are
supposed to be, on the whole, similar to those which
obtain now. It is assumed that an arrow-head
shape was, as it is, merely one of an indefinite
number of other forms, all of which are produced,
E 2
52 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
in equal or greater numbers, by mechanical causes,
and that it was, as it is, a form which man in a state
of savagery finds useful, and is therefore likely to
manufacture ; and on this hypothesis it is quite true
that the chances in favour of a human origin are
enormous. But it is no less evident that this
hypothesis is itself the statement of a historical
fact ; that it must, therefore, involve an inference
from effects to causes ; that these effects may again
be conceivably due to more than one set of causes ;
that we must again select one set of causes rather
than another on grounds of probability, and again be
obliged, in order to establish that probability, to
make a new inference from effects to causes. If,
now, we imagine this process carried on indefinitely,
we may suppose ourselves at last to arrive at the
deduction of the totality of causes from the totality
of effects. Supposing, as seems likely enough, that
the totality of effects might conceivably have been
produced by more than one selection or arrangement
of causes, on what principle are we now to choose
between these conflicting possibilities ? Most of
them, perhaps all except the one we commonly
select, would, it can scarcely be doubted, seem in
the highest degree extravagant and improbable.
But their extravagance is merely the result of the
manner in which they strike on our imagination ;
and as for their improbability, I am altogether at a
loss to see how, from our principles, any estimate of
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE. 53
their probability at all like what we require can be
founded. Since we are dealing- with the totality of
effects, it cannot clearly be founded on my further
inference from effect to cause, and no other founda
tion seems to me possible, except by the intervention
of some new scientific axiom,
I am afraid that this speculation may seem the
mere extravagance of scepticism ; and the illustra
tion I am about to give may, perhaps, strengthen
the prejudice against my view, though I hope rt
may make the grounds of it more clear and in
telligible.
Let us suppose, then, that our only source of
information respecting the past was derived from
written documents that, with the exception of
what each man remembered, he knew absolutely
nothing of times gone by beyond what he read in
books or MSS. professing to have been written at
the various periods of which they spoke. Let us
further suppose that from such materials a more or
less consistent and plausible history has been con
structed, and then let us try and determine the sort
of grounds we have for estimating its probable truth.
The effects here are the books and MSS. ;
the causes inferred from these effects are various
writers having access to information about different
periods, who have taken care to place this informa
tion accurately upon record. Since there are, how
ever, other possible causes, for example, the inven-
54 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
tion by one or more persons of a story, and the
forgery of the documents required for its support, it
becomes necessary to find a principle which may
enable us to choose between the rival hypotheses.
It is commonly said that the authenticity of any
document may be shown by two kinds of evidence
the external and the internal ; and since internal
evidence would be defined as evidence drawn from
the document itself, it might seem natural to con
clude that such evidence really exists, and that it
might provide us with the principle of which we are in
search. In strictness, however, this is not the case.
From the character of any document alone no con
clusion can be drawn in favour of its genuineness,
provided the bare possibility of its forgery be
admitted. Supposing, for example, it is said that
the style and character of thought of some book
show it to have been the product of a certain age
and country this implies a knowledge of that age
and country which, if it is to be admitted as evi
dence, must clearly be derived from some other
source than the book it is intended to vindicate ;
and this is equally true of any possible characteristic
which can be adduced either for or against any
theory respecting date of composition or authorship.
It would appear, indeed, at first sight, as if the
contents of a book might be so unlike the sort of
things people invent, or so difficult to make self-
consistent if they were invented, that its genuineness
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE.
could be concluded from the mere consideration of
these peculiarities. But even this inference involves
some hypothesis respecting the condition of the
world at the supposed date of authorship. It sup
poses that the ability to invent and the desire to
invent existed at that time in such degrees as
to make invention of this sort highly improbable ;
but since this estimate cannot be founded on the
document itself without a petitio principii, it must
be founded either on some hitherto undiscovered
axiom, or on other documents, or on other non-
documentary phenomena. The first of these possi
bilities I reserve for discussion later on. The last
is excluded by hypothesis. There remains, there
fore, the second. But the smallest consideration
will show that all the remarks just applied to a
single document apply equally well to any number
of documents taken together. Once admit the
possibility of their forgery, the improbability of such
an event can only be deduced from facts which are
themselves deductions from all or some of these
documents, and which consequently cannot in this
matter be used as a basis of inference at all. It may
be stated, therefore, generally that if we start from
the arbitrary hypothesis with which I began this
illustration, then, first, it is quite as probable that
all history should be fictitious as that some of it
should be true; and, secondly, as a necessary
corollary, if two versions of it are mutually ex-
56 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
elusive, it is impossible to say which is the more
likely.
The general principle from which this is a
deduction seems to me, indeed, almost self-evident
when clearly stated. It would run thus :_ < If more
than one cause can produce a given effect, it is
impossible, by the mere contemplation of the effect,
to say by what cause it was probably produced.
The same is true of < groups of effects, and groups
of causes/ It is also true of the totality of effects,
and the totality of causes. Now, if the totality
of effects means existing effects, the < totality of
causes is, if not history, at all events the necessary
foundation of history. Therefore, the chances against
any particular version of history being true is simply
as the number of possible versions of it is to one. 1
It will be a fitting transition to the next stage
in this discussion if I here notice the interesting
effect which the existence of one particular cause
has on the validity of all historical inferences I
mean the universal first cause, whether that be the
unknown x of certain philosophers, or the personal
God of the theologians.
It is of the essence of this idea of a First Cause
that everything which exists in other words, the
whole of the premises on which we found our
knowledge of history is produced by It directly
1 Strictly speaking as the number of possible versions of it minus
unity are to one.
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE. 57
or indirectly. Moreover, it is clearly impossible
to shew that, while It could produce one set of
phenomena directly, It was only able to produce
another set indirectly, i.e., by means of some phe
nomenal cause intervening. From this it follows
that there is no period of history at which creation
might not have taken place ; nor am I able to see
that, if it did take place, it would do so at one
period more probably than at another. In other
words, whatever date in the past we select, there
are always two causes which are equally likely to
have produced the phenomena then existing : the
one is the group of phenomena which might have
produced them according to known laws ; the other
is the First Cause. It may be worth noting that
these remarks are true not only of the metaphysical
substance, whether personal or not, which is the
origin of all things, but also of any phenomena
which may be assumed to have produced the present
order of nature, but of whose laws we are ignorant.
Supposing, for example, it was shown that, by
tracing back the course of events through time, we
arrived at a point, where the recognised laws of
nature failed us, 1 and where we were in consequence
compelled to assume a new, and, of course, unknown
set of antecedents acting in unknown ways ; in that
case we should not be justified in supposing that the
1 This speculation was suggested by certain physical theories re
specting the distribution of heat.
58 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
point where the known causes failed us was the
point where the unknown causes came into opera
tion. The probabilities, in fact, are infinitely the
other way. For since these causes are unknown,
we clearly cannot say that their properties are such
as to make their appearance more probable at one
time than at another. That they must appear at
some period or other is shown, according to our
hypothesis, by the insufficiency of established laws
when followed up beyond a certain point ; but
since, also by hypothesis, we can predicate nothing
of these unknown causes, except their existence and
their power to produce the present order of nature,
it would seem that they are quite as likely to have
exercised that power at any one instant of time as
at any other.
The reader acquainted with the elements of
geometrical optics will see clearly the point which I
am attempting to establish, if he will consider the
distinction between a real and a virtual image.
A spectator whose position is fixed is contemplating
(let us suppose) what appears to him to be the flame
of a candle. He believes it to be a candle because
the rays of light reach his eye precisely as they
would do if they emanated from a candle placed
where he sees the image of the flame. Nevertheless,
in forming this very natural conclusion, he may be
altogether in error. Since the rays would reach his
eyes in precisely the same manner, whether they came
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE. 59
from a real flame or the virtual image of a flame
produced by some optical contrivance, and since the
manner in which the rays reach his eye is (we may
suppose) the sole ground on which he can found any
inference at all, it is perfectly plain that he can have
no reason for believing the one rather than the other
to be the true object of perception. So it is with us
and our inferences about the past, if we substitute time
for space, the facts immediately presented to us for the
rays striking directly on the retina, and the history
of the past, as given to us by science, for the image
of the flame. If we are fortunate we may be able
to point to an imaginary condition of the world at
some given period, and say, Trace out the con
sequence of these causes according to the known
laws of nature, and you will arrive at the state of
things you now see around you, just as some one
might say, On the supposition that a candle flame
exists, your actual perception is fully accounted
for. But just as in the second case a virtual
image would have precisely the same effect as the
real image, so in the first case other combinations of
phenomena obeying known laws, or a metaphysical
first cause, or phenomena obeying unknown laws
which the failure of known laws compels us to believe
in, might all of them result in the existing universe.
But whereas in the second case the rays from the
image would not generally be the only available
means of forming a judgment respecting the real
60 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
nature of their origin, and we have usually some
other independent grounds for deciding in favour of
one hypothesis rather than another, in the first case,
so far as at present appears, it is not so. Existing
facts are our sole (particular) evidence for historic
facts, and if our general principles can get nothing
definite out of them, science at all events has nothing
further to suggest.
All the cases we have so far considered have
these characteristics in common -that in each we
have to choose between two or more causes, or sets
of causes, which are the possible historical ante
cedents of the world as we see it ; that in each the
causes between which our choice lie are actual 1
causes, that is, are (by hypothesis) known to exist or
to have existed ; and that in each we have as yet
discovered no reason for preferring any one possible
alternative to any other. But at this point an in
teresting question suggests itself. Why should we
retain the limitation (originally adopted in order to
simplify the investigation) stated in the second of the
preceding propositions ? On what principle do we
confine our attention to actual causes ? Why should
we not admit causes about whose existence or non-
existence now, or in past times, we know absolutely
nothing as possible historical antecedents, and if
1 This use of the word actual is clumsy and not very accurate : but
as its meaning in this connection is clearly defined, its employment
will, I hope, lead to no confusion.
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE. 61
we do so admit them, what effect will the admis
sion have on the validity of our ordinary historical
inference ? The last question, at all events, does not
seem hard to answer. If we are to admit, as ele
ments in the historic problem, an indefinite number of
such possible causes on the same footing as we now
admit actual causes, then (if we are limited to our
initial assumptions) all inference with regard to the
past becomes impossible. We may, if we please,
amuse ourselves by showing how actual causes may
be a sufficient explanation of the facts as we see
them, but we must at the same time admit that the
chances are infinitely against that explanation being
the true one, and for this obvious reason : since
every historical belief must be founded in the last
resort on an inference from effect to cause, it follows
that if there are an infinite number of causes, so far
as we know, all equally possible, the chances against
any one of them therefore against any actual one
of them being the real cause are also infinite. If,
therefore, history is to exist at all, it will be neces
sary to show that the actual causes are the only
possible ones, or, at all events, that there is a very
great presumption in their favour.
We have now considered historic inference in the
light of four separate suppositions. We have supposed
that our choice lay ist, between different sets of phe
nomenal causes whose laws are known ; 2nd, between
a noumenal cause and phenomenal causes ; 3rd,
62 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
between phenominal causes whose laws are known,
and phenomenal causes which are known to have
existed, but whose laws are not known ; 4th, between
causes which are known to exist, or to have existed,
and causes which, for anything we at present know to
the contrary, may have existed in indefinite numbers.
In all these cases there are two alternatives pre
sented to us ; in each of them science unhesitatingly
accepts one and rejects the other, and in, at all
events, most instances common sense endorses the
choice. Nevertheless, the preceding discussion has,
I hope, made it plain that this course derives no
justification from our supposed knowledge of the ab
stract laws connecting phenomena, even when taken
in connection with the law of universal causation.
It is necessary, therefore, to supplement these grounds
of belief by some other principle or principles, which
it now becomes our business to find out, and, if pos
sible, to justify.
We turn first, as is natural, to the Uniformity
of Nature. But a little reflection shows that it
scarcely gives us that of which we are in search,
since, according to one of its meanings, it is in
sufficient, while, according to another, it is not only
insufficient, but untrue. If it be taken to mean, as
it usually is, that the past, the present, and the future
are uniform in this, that the same antecedent is
always followed by the same consequent, then it is,
of course, one of the very assumptions with which
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE. 63
we started, and which have left us with all these
unsolved problems on our hands. If, on the other
hand, it means that the same consequents are always
preceded by the same antecedents, we could, no doubt,
from this, in theory, construct a history of the past
precisely to the same extent and with the same fatal
limitations as from the converse proposition we can
in theory now construct a history of the future. But
then, unfortunately, this is opposed to the practical
teachings of the very science in aid of which we
appeal to it, and is in apparent contradiction both to
1 observation and to experiment/ 1
A third meaning, according to which the Uni
formity of Nature would imply that no supernatural
interference with the Order of Nature, i.e., with the
succession of natural causes and effects, was possible,
1 This may be a convenient place at which to touch on an objec
tion which the reader accustomed to regard the universe from a me
chanical point of view may be tempted to raise. He may say, I
utterly deny the possible plurality of causes, on the existence of which
depends so much of your argument. I hold that the world may be
regarded as a system of particles obeying mechanical laws, that it is
therefore quite as possible to reconstruct the past, as it is to construct
the future, from the present ; and that both operations may, in theory,
be carried out with absolute certainty. Since, however, this theo
retical possibility can never by any accident be realised in practice, it
may, for my purposes, be neglected. I write for human beings with
human powers of calculation. But besides this, it is by no means
proved, I believe, to the satisfaction of the men of science that the
world is a purely mechanical system. I am, therefore, justified in as
suming, with the majority of scientific philosophers, that while one
kind of cause can only have one kind of effect, one kind of effect may
have more than one kind of cause. The attentive reader will see that,
even were this otherwise, still, so long as it is so for our powers of obser
vation and calculation, the main argument of the chapter remains
entirel v unaffected,
64 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
would give a solution of the second problem, but of
the second problem only. I know of no proof of such
a principle, nor can I conceive any. Hume s argu
ment against miracles, I need not say, is inapplicable.
Another general principle is suggested by a
phrase that is sometimes used The Simplicity of
Nature. Let us examine how far it is possible to
extract from this the premiss of which we are in
search.
When we speak of Nature being simple/ it is
not, I presume, meant that its laws are easily under
stood, that is, are simple relatively to our faculties
of comprehension. In the first place, it is not the
case ; in the second place, if it were the case, we
should derive no assistance from it in our present
difficulty, since every one of the alternatives we have
been weighing is as easily understood as every
other ; and in the third place, it would involve the
hypothesis of a pre-established harmony between
the cosmos and the microcosmos which men of
science at least would be slow to admit. Nor, for
this same reason, can it mean that the most simple
or natural explanation that is, the explanation
which, when understood, seems, in some vague way,
especially to commend itself to the investigator
is always the true one more particularly as different
investigators take very different views as to what
is natural. It is clear, indeed, that if we are to get
any assistance out of the Simplicity of Nature, it
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE. 65
must be because the Simplicity of Nature is some
thing objective, something that can be stated in
terms which have no reference to the mind of the
observer, something which merely expresses the
manner in which natural phenomena occur. That
Nature employs the fewest possible number of causes,
or rather kinds of cause, to produce her results (which
:orresporids to the maxim, that causes are not to be
niltiplied without a reason ) is a proposition which
informs to these conditions, and which seems to
assert a kind of simplicity. Will this serve our turn ?
So far as the fourth problem (which requires us
to decide between known and unknown causes) is
concerned, it apparently will. It practically tells us
that if we know of causes that might have produced
a given result, that these causes, or some of them,
did actually do so. It therefore unquestionably
affords a solution of this problem exactly in accord
ance with the ordinary scientific view.
If, however, we examine its bearing on the
first and third problems, this does not appear to be
altogether the fact. In these two cases we are re
quired to choose between kinds of cause which are
by hypothesis known to exist : so that the principle
of Simplicity leaves us very much where we were.
While, with regard to the second problem, since the
alternative there lies between natural and super
natural causes, a principle which (in so far as it says
T
66 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
anything) gives us information only about the former,
cannot be of much assistance.
I may add that, though philosophers never hesi
tate to appeal to the Simplicity of Nature when it
suits their convenience, I am not aware that any of
them have thought fit to supply us with a proof of
its reality.
Though there seems, then, to be no obvious or
recognised principle which will exactly serve our
purpose, there must nevertheless be some perhaps
unformulated notion which lies at the root of ex
isting historical judgments, and which on analysis
may furnish us with the principle of which we are
in search.
Now I take this notion to be that there is a sort
of continuity in the course of Nature through the past
which discourages (so to speak) violent changes and
the interference of unknown causes. But such a
statement as it stands is, it need hardly be observed,
far too vague to have any philosophic value, and re
quires a good deal of analysis before even we come
to the question of proof. To begin with, what is
violent ? It cannot, of course, mean merely startling,
as it would then refer solely to the effect produced
on the imagination, and could hardly be made the
foundation of a canon by which to judge the course
of Nature. It must, therefore, have some objective
meaning attached to it, though at the same time it is
clear that no such meaning can be given to it which
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE. 67
shall have any absolute value. It is, I mean, impos
sible to say what is or is not objectively a violent
change, except by taking some particular change as a
standard of comparison. Now, what is this standard
change ? It cannot evidently be a fixed or perma
nent rate of change to which all others must conform,
because if so it must either be one of which we have
immediate knowledge, or one we have arrived at by
historical inference. It cannot be the second, as this
(since we are looking for a basis for historical infer
ence) would involve a very obvious argument in a
circle. It cannot, again, be the first, because recog
nised history supplies us with many more violent
changes than those of which we have immediate ex
perience, so that it is impossible both that history
should be true and that historic changes should con
form to the standard.
A meaning which promises better results, because
it does not at first sight appear to suggest a fixed
standard, would be as follows : < If there are two
possible causes for any effect, that one is to be chosen
which involves the least violent change. But this,
it must be observed, is not a statement respecting
Nature, but a maxim intended to guide the judgment
of the natural philosopher. It must, therefore, derive
its authority from some fact in nature, exactly as the
ordinary rules of induction derive their authority from
the law of universal causation. Now what is the
fact ? Our guesses (according to this maxim) be-
F 2
68 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
come more accurate as they approach a certain limit.
The smaller the change required by the conclusion,
the more likely is the inference on which that conclu
sion rests to be sound. But the limit here implied
is a condition of things under which there would be
no change at all, a supposition which is absolutely
incompatible with history and everything else.
It must also be remarked that rate of change,
or amount of change/ is itself an expression to
which it is only now and then possible to attach a
precise meaning ; in fact, only in those cases in which
we are dealing with quantities, mass, velocity, force,
and so forth. Science is, however, so far at present
from being purely quantitative (whatever it may
some day become), that those notions are far indeed
from being sufficient to cover the necessary ground.
Since, then, it does not seem easy even to for
mulate the axiom or axioms which are required in
addition to the law of causation to justify our ordi
nary historic judgments, the second step in the
philosophy of the subject, by which we seek to prove
or classify them (according as they are derivative or
ultimate), cannot be attempted. The truth of the
matter appears to be that history rests on a kind of
scientific instinct, none the less healthy because it
is not very reasonable. This, fortunately, is quite
vigorous enough to resist the attacks of any merely
philosophic scepticism, as any one anxious to try the
experiment may discover for himself provided he will
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE. 69
ask the next man of science he meets, whether (say)
4000 B.C. is not as likely as any other assignable date
for the commencement of this Earth as a separate
planet. If the enquirer is fortunate enough to get
any answer at all to so absurd a question, he will pro
bably be told that no known causes are adequate to
the production of existing effects in so short a time.
To which it may be replied, that there is no parti
cular reason for supposing that known causes have
been the only ones in operation. On this the man
of science may not improbably rejoin that gratuitous
suppositions ought to be avoided that the deus ex
machind is to be excluded as much from science as
from art. If he were further asked the grounds of
this canon, I do not know exactly what would be his
answer, though I know that whether he could find an
answer or not, the strength of his convictions would
not be in any way diminished.
From certain assumptions, then, which seem
reasonable enough, we have arrived at a very nega
tive result. Before concluding, it may be as well to
point out certain ways in which the nature of this con
clusion reacts on the premises. It will be recollected
that we started with the supposition that, in addition
to the law of causation, we were to accept the teach
ing of science so far as particular abstract laws were
concerned. But it will be seen at once that the evi
dence of many of these laws is itself historical* .*.,
depends on the truth of the current version of his-
70 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
tory. Of how many this may be said I do not en
quire, but it is obviously true of those which in any
way depend on a series of observations carried
through many years, such as parts of astronomy and
sociology (if this is to be considered a science).
It is also true of all laws which are direct deductions
from the historic facts which alone are supposed to
exemplify them, such as parts of geology. What,
however, is of perhaps more interest is the bearing
which some of the points brought out in the preced
ing discussion have on the empirical evidence of the
law of universal causation.
The nature of the process of inference by which
this great principle is proved from experience has
been discussed, and, I think, shown to be invalid, in
a previous chapter ; but one remark concerning the
premises of that inference may be made appropriately
now. It was pointed out at the commencement of
the chapter that, though our knowledge of the laws
of nature must be founded, in part at least, on our
knowledge of particular matters of fact, that never
theless all our knowledge of particular matters of fact
other than those of which we have immediate expe
rience, must in their turn be founded upon our
knowledge of the laws of nature. Now, it is com
monly admitted that a law of nature depends for its
generality upon the law of universal causation, in
other words, is extended to unobserved instances
solely by means of that law ; from which it follows,
CHAP, iv.] HISTORICAL INFERENCE. ^71
that the law of universal causation is a necessary
premiss in every inference by which we arrive at
historical facts. What I have been hitherto attempt
ing to show is, that even assuming- this premiss to be
true, there is an inevitable ambiguity in the inference ;
what I now wish to insist on is, that whether those
views be true or false, this at any rate is certain, that
if the law of universal causation be founded on expe
rience at all, that experience must be extremely
limited. Empirical philosophers, dilating on the
accumulated evidence we have for this law, are in
the habit of telling us that it is the uncontradicted
result of observations extending through centuries ;
but they have omitted to notice, that unless we first
believe in the law, we can have no reason for be
lieving in the observations. Turn the matter as we
will, the fact that mankind have been observing or
doing anything else for centuries, cannot be to any
of us a matter of direct observation or intuition. It
must, therefore, be an inference ; and if an inference
from experience, the only experience it can be in
ferred from, is the immediate and limited experience
of each individual ; this, therefore, either at one re
move or two, is the only possible empirical founda
tion for the law of causation, or any other general
principle.
This argument does not show, of course, that
empirical philosophy is false; but it does show,
beyond question, that it is not plausible. What-
72 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART i.
ever be its philosophic value, there is certainly some
thing consolatory to common sense in the idea that
our convictions rest on a broad basis of experience.
There is something practical in the very sound of a
phrase which implies a method of judging that most
satisfactorily distinguishes us from the pre- Baconian
philosophers. But when it becomes evident that this
broad basis itself rests on the exceedingly narrow
basis of individual experience, when it is once under
stood that what I perceive, and remember having
perceived, is my sole ground for believing that people
in past ages perceived anything at all, empiricism
certainly loses much of its dignity, though its philo
sophic value remains, perhaps, very much what it
was before,
CHAP, v.] INTRODUCTION TO PART II. 73
PART II.
CHAPTER V.
INTRODUCTION TO PART II.
IN the three preceding chapters I have discussed
empirical reasoning concisely, but I hope sufficiently,
from three different points of view. I showed, in
the first place, that whereas, according to this philo
sophy, all our knowledge is derived from particulars,
that there was nevertheless no method, or at all
events no method hitherto discovered, by which >
inference from particulars was possible ; and that
Mr. Mill s theory on this subject will in no sense
bear minute examination. From this reasoning it J
necessarily follows that pure empiricism is not at
present a tenable system ; but there is a kind of
mixed or spurious empiricism, which, taking for
granted (on no very explicit or intelligible grounds)
the principle of universal causation, assumes that by j
the help of this alone we can argue frora particular
matters of fact to the general laws of phenomena.
This I imagine to be a not uncommon view among
men of science, and to be that formally put forward
74 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
by Mr, Jevons in his Principles of Science. The
assumption required by this theory is evidently a
large one so large, indeed, as to make it, philo
sophically speaking, nearly worthless ; but, even
granting that assumption, I showed in the next place,
in the third chapter, that no experience, however
large, and no experiments, however well contrived
and successful, could give us any reasonable assur
ance that the co-existences or sequences which have
been observed among phenomena will be repeated
i in the future. This is as much as to say that induc
tive logic (even granting the uniformity of Nature)
Is worthless, since it can do no more than find a rule
according to which all known instances of an event
have occurred, without giving us any right to extend
this rule to instances which are not known.
It appears, then, that neither the mixed and in
complete empiricism considered in the third chapter,
still less the pure empiricism considered in the second
chapter, affords us any satisfactory method for infer
ring the laws of nature from particular observations
or experiments ; but even this does not exhibit the
full weakness and inadequacy of scientific logic, for
in the fourth chapter I showed that, granting that we
possessed a knowledge of the laws of phenomena,
and granting the truth of the lav/ of universal causa
tion in other words, granting the truth of that which
it was shown in the two preceding chapters could
not be proved it was impossible, even on these
CHAP, v.] INTRODUCTION TO PART II. 75
terms, to arrive at any knowledge of historical facts,
taking this expression in its widest sense as including
all that has occurred outside our individual sphere of
immediate experience.
I have therefore stated three distinct objections
that may be taken to the ordinary proof of current
scientific beliefs. Empirical philosophy, so far as I
can see, gets over none of them ; though every one
of them must be got over by any system which has
pretensions to being an adequate philosophy ot
science. This being so, it is not necessary, I sup
pose, to dwell longer on this part of the subject,
even if by so doing other difficulties might be started
equally hard of solution. It will be convenient rather
to proceed at once to the next branch of the enquiry.
The reader will recollect that in the first chapter
philosophy was divided into the philosophy of infer
ence and the philosophy of ultimate premises. The
three preceding chapters may be described as dealing
in the main with the first of these divisions ; and we
still require therefore to give a more particular con
sideration to the second. How is this subject to be
approached ? On the whole, perhaps, most con
veniently by taking the premises which, if not ulti
mate from a philosophic point of view, are at any
rate ultimate from a scientific point of view i.e.,
those on which science depends, but which do not
depend on science and trying to find out the proof,
or kind of proof, of which they are susceptible.
76 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
Now these premises consist (so far as I can judge),
in the first place, of certain unknown principles, shown
in the third and fourth chapters to be necessary
to the validity of science, but which, since they are
unknown, need no longer detain us. In the second
place, of the Law of Universal Causation ; which, as
was shown in the second chapter, cannot be proved
by induction ; and, in the third place, of individual
or particular experiences, which (as will be shown in
the ninth chapter, though it is here assumed) must
be supposed to refer to a persistent universe.
It is the evidence of these last two premises
or kinds of premiss which will now chiefly occupy
us ; but as the discussion of this matter will oblige
me to deal with a great many dissimilar and dis
connected systems, a change of method will be
necessary. I shall make henceforth no attempt to
link each chapter to that which precedes and follows
it by an argumentative chain. On the contrary,
each chapter will contain a discussion as complete as
seems necessary of one subject, and it will only be
related to the other similar chapters inasmuch as it
proceeds from the same basis and leads to the same
conclusion.
Before entering, however, into this more extended
examination of the various methods by which philoso
phers have attempted to establish the existence of a
persistent universe governed by causation, I shall per
haps be asked whether this is a matter which really
CHAP, v.] INTRODUCTION TO PART II. 77
requires proof at all. Is not the belief (it may be
said) in the reality of such a universe one of those
truths which lie at the root of all knowledge, for
which proof is impossible, or, if possible, still un
necessary ? I reply that this is a question the true
answer to which may be suggested, but, from the
nature of things, cannot be demonstrated. Each
person must, in the last resort, decide for himself
whether or not any given proposition is to his mind
of the kind I have described in the first section as
ultimate. In this particular case all that can be
said is that, as a matter of fact, the law of causation
does not appear to be accepted in its integrity by
the greater part of the human race, and that those
who do accept it seem to feel the necessity of found
ing it upon some kind of proof : either upon expe
rience, which, as I have already shown, can furnish
no proof at all ; or upon some of the philosophical
principles which it will be my business to examine
in the sequel. With regard to a persistent universe,
the case is somewhat different. Everybody prac
tically believes in it, even those who speculatively
question it : but at the same time the verdict of all
philosophy seems to be that the dogma asserting
its existence is one which can be speculatively ques
tioned, and must therefore, if it be true, be capable
of some speculative defence. So many demon
strations of it have been offered, that it may well be
assumed that, in the judgment of those qualified to
78 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
decide, some demonstration is required. If, how
ever, anyone still thinks that this is a matter which
those interested in the rational foundation of science
may be permitted to neglect, the following consider
ations may perhaps induce him to alter his opinion.
If an immediate knowledge of a persistent world
is given us at all, it will be admitted, I think, that it
is given us in perception ; if its existence is an ulti
mate fact which cannot and need not be proved, it is
a fact of which we are assured by what is somewhat
absurdly called the direct evidence of the senses.
In other words, we know that there is a persistent
world much in the same sort of way and with the
same absolute assurance as we know that we feel
hot or cold. The first question, therefore, which
has to be asked is, What do we know immediately
and with certainty by means of perception ? The
answer suggested by the psychology of Berkeley
and Hume in effect amounted to this. The only
things we know and can know immediately are
our own sensations and ideas. Objects are merely
groups of sensations. Imagined objects are merely
groups of ideas ; and as these pass and vanish
away, so do the things, of which they are in truth
the only real constituents, cease to have any but
a nominal existence. While they were real they
were affections of the mind, and when they ceased
to be affections of the mind, they ceased to be any
thing.
CHAP, v.] INTRODUCTION TO PART II. 79
The soundness of this psychology, which, if true,
would completely dispose of any immediate know
ledge of a persistent world, is, however, open to
question. It is maintained by thinkers of a dif
ferent school l that in perceiving objects we cannot
properly be said to perceive either sensations or
related sensations, or even facts of sensation, but only
qualities of objects ; qualities which are constituted
not by sensations but by relations, and which are
therefore thought but cannot be felt. If this theory
of perception be sound, it is evident that the argu
ment of the psychological idealist cannot be main
tained in the shape in which I have just stated it.
If the world, as it is immediately perceived, does not
consist of sensations, it need not evidently be tran
sient merely because sensations are so. We there
fore have again to ask ourselves whether in percep
tion we gain an assurance, both immediate and re
flective, of the existence of persistent objects ; 2 and
to this question, though without subscribing to all
their views, I answer, as the psychological idealist
answered, No.
1 Cf. Mr. Green s edition of Hume, and an article, published after
the greater part of this essay was written, in the Contemporary Review,
March 1878.
2 The reader may, perhaps, be inclined hastily to imagine that an
assurance cannot be both immediate and reflective. This combination
is, however, not only possible, but it ought to be found in all ultimate
premises, and is actually found in the axioms of mathematics. A
proposition of which we have immediate reflective assurance, is one
which, after reflection, is seen to be certain without proof.
8o A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
I must here guard against a possible miscon
ception which may be suggested by the word im
mediate. In one sense of the term all the know
ledge, real or supposed, which is obtained by per
ception alone may be called immediate : since know
ledge obtained through any conscious process of
inference is ipso facto mediate. Nevertheless, we
cannot properly be said to have an assurance,
both immediate and reflective, of the truth of all
the facts we immediately perceive. Our real or
supposed knowledge of the facts is immediate ; our
reflective assurance of the truth of these facts is cer
tainly not immediate. If, for example, I see an
object in space, my knowledge of its real shape and
size is obtained by no piece of conscious reasoning,
and cannot therefore be appropriately described as
mediate or derivative. Nevertheless, the reflective
assurance that the thing seen is actually that shape
and size, and not merely shaded and coloured
so as to look as if it were, can only be arrived at by
a more or less elaborate process of inference, and
must undoubtedly therefore be looked on as mediate.
In harmony with this explanation our original ques
tion would therefore run thus : Conceding that we
immediately perceive the existence of a persisting
universe, is the reflective assurance that such a uni
verse exists immediate, or is it legitimate (if it be so
at all) only in virtue of a process of inference ? To
my thinking, the bare consideration of the problem
CHAP, v.] INTRODUCTION TO PART II. 81
so stated is sufficient to show that the latter alterna
tive should be accepted. It appears to me that the
immediate belief which the majority of mankind
certainly have in the reality of such a universe is of
the same kind as that which they had in the apparent
motion of the sun and stars ; and that, on reflection,
speculative doubt is not only possible and legiti
mate, but is hardly to be avoided.
If anyone disagrees with this statement, I would
ask him how he deals with the admitted occurrence
of optical or other (so-called) illusions of the senses ?
In such cases the judgment respecting the persistence
of the object perceived is as immediate, and is given
in perception precisely in the same way, as it is
when perception is normal. The only difference is
that on reflection it is seen to be incorrect. And by
what method is its incorrectness shown ? By show
ing its inconsistency with the order of nature as
revealed to us by science. But unless there exists a
persisting universe, the order of nature, as revealed
to us by science, is a dream. If therefore the exist
ence of such a universe is given us merely in percep
tion, we can assert that a particular object is transient
only by a mediate inference from an authority whose
immediate verdict is that it is persistent. True, it
may be replied, but this is a fact which presents no
difficulty. We are constantly correcting one obser
vation by means of another, without concluding from
this, that observation is a means of acquiring know-
82 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
ledge unworthy of credit. This shows that two
authorities of precisely the same kind may qualify
without destroying each other, and without giving
rise to any suspicions of latent contradiction.
In what lies the distinction between this case
and the one stated above ? The distinction lies in
this : that in the second case the scientific obser
vations correct and can correct each other only on
the presupposition which it is the business of the
perceptions in the first case to establish. We can
extract a single truth out of a series of observations
only on the supposition that they all deal with a
single object, and they can only deal with a single
object if that object persists through at least the
whole period over which the observations extend.
If perceptions can correct each other only on similar
terms, it would seem tolerably plain that they cannot
correct each other when the question in dispute is
whether the object perceived has, or has not, the
attribute of persistence. If there be a persistent
world, the fact that the evidence of our senses
occasionally misleads us as to its true character may
be of small importance. But if our whole ground
for believing in the existence of a persistent world
be derived from the evidence of the senses, the fact
that they deceive us, though only occasionally, .casts
a suspicion over all the rest of their testimony.
Reverting to the remarks on the psychology of
perception made a few pages back, the reader may
CHAP, v.] INTRODUCTION TO PART II. 83
perhaps say If objects are constituted by relations
which are thought, not felt, may not one of the rela
tions by which they are constituted be that very per
sistence whose reality you tell us has to be inferred ?
May not the assurance that objects persist be thus
given in the process of sense perception, though not,
strictly speaking, derived from the evidence of the
senses ?
Now I do not at present deny that such assur
ance may be legitimately attained by reasoning on the
basis of the psychology which offers us this analysis
of the perceived object. But without at present
going into this question, it is safe, I suppose, to assert
that to think an object as persisting cannot make it
persist. Whatever may be the truths of which we
are immediately assured in perception, that the object
perceived actually has any qualities we choose to
attribute to it, cannot be one. To suppose the con
trary is to fall into an error similar to that according
to which the existence of God was demonstrated
from the fact that existence was part of His essence.
Grant that everything which is real is thought, it
cannot be the fact that everything which is thought
is real, since if it were so, mistakes as to the true
nature of any object would be impossible ; a doctrine
as subversive of science as any form of idealism ever
devised.
These preliminary remarks have, of course, not
been intended as even a proximate solution of any
G 2
84 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
philosophic problem. Their object has been to
suggest doubt, not to establish scepticism. They
have aimed at convincing anyone inclined to an
easy acquiescence in his natural convictions, that the
reality of the subject-matter of science is not a thing
that should too readily be taken for granted. Our
natural convictions may be right, but they must be
shown to be right. Proof of some kind is necessary ;
and where proof is necessary, scepticism is possible.
All that I here contend for is that a preliminary ex
amination of what perception tells us no assumption
being made as to the truth of any particular psycho
logical theory, and no use being made of the words
subjective, objective/ or external fails to show
that scepticism is not possible. So that if ever this
is to be established it must be by the help of
systems which, whatever be the nature of their con
clusions, cannot be accepted without criticism. I
pass now to the most important, the most elaborate,
and the most difficult of these systems, which, in
harmony with the terminology it employs, I venture
to call Transcendentalism/
CHAP. vi. | TRANSCENDENTALISM. 85
CHAPTER VI.
TRANSCENDENTALISM.
THAT the pure empiricism still in fashion among
scientific philosophers leads naturally to scepticism
is a fact which has been familiar to certain schools of
thought ever since Hume presented it to the world
stripped of its plausibilities. It is hardly to be
believed that so subtle a thinker did not himself
perceive the ultimate consequences of his reasoning.
He must have been perfectly aware that on his
system a philosophy of science was impossible ;
nevertheless, his Essay on Miracles and occasional
announcements, such as that with which he ends
his Enquiry concerning the Human Understand
ing, appear to have quite convinced natural philo
sophers that his scepticism merely undermined re
ligion a result which to most of them was a cause
of very moderate uneasiness. If, however, they
ignored, and still ignore, the wider reach of that
engine of destruction, it has not been for want of
telling.
Hume himself makes no effort to conceal it,
and the sneer with which he informs the students
86 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
of science that theirs is the only kind of knowledge
worth pursuing, is scarcely less obvious than that
with which he tells the theologian that the most
solid foundations of religion are faith and divine
revelation. But Hume s own view of his position
is not the only, nor even the main, evidence for
the sceptical nature of the conclusions to which his
theories necessarily lead. On that scepticism, as
we have been informed with sufficient iteration, is
founded the whole imposing structure of modern
German philosophy ; and modern German philo
sophy, whatever be its value, is not a phenomenon
which easily escapes notice. If it gives little light
it is not because it is hidden under a bushel. In
all probability, however, its very magnitude has pre
vented it from materially influencing the course of
scientific philosophy in this country ; and I believe
I may almost say from permanently influencing
scientific philosophy even in Germany. A man
may be forgiven if, before seriously attempting to
master so huge a mass of metaphysics, composed of
several inconsistent systems, difficult of comprehen
sion from their essential natures, still more difficult
from the extraordinary jargon under which the in
genuity of man has concealed their import he may
be forgiven, I say, if he pauses and considers whether
the time may not be better spent in reading some
thing he is more likely to understand. It is, how
ever, unfortunate that this pardonable, and even
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 87
laudable, caution should have prevented so many
people from trying to comprehend the exact diffi
culty which Kant and Kant s successors saw in the
empiricism of Hume, and the extremely ingenious
method which they adopted in order to avoid it ;
for when these are understood, it becomes at once
plain that the difficulty is a real one, and that the
solution offered of it, at any rate, deserves consider
ation.
The relation in which Kant stands to Hume is
not a topic which it is necessary for me to discuss ;
nor, if it were, could I, it need hardly be said, add
anything to what Professor Green and Professor
Caird, not to mention previous commentators, have
already written on the subject.
What more directly concerns my purpose is to
examine the answer which, as I suppose, a trans-
cendentalist would make to the scepticism of the
preceding chapters, on the only two points where
his defence of the grounds of science and my attack
really meet on common ground. I mean causation
and the existence of a persistent and independent
world/
Now the usual way in which the transcendental
problem is put is, How is knowledge possible?
and, taking transcendentalism as an answer to Hume,
this, the usual way, is also the most natural, because
it was Hume s theory of the origin of knowledge
which led necessarily to scepticism. As, however,
A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
in this essay I have put forward no theory of the
origin of knowledge, from my point of view the
question should rather be stated, How much of
what pretends to be knowledge must we accept as
such, and why ? My business, therefore, is to ex
tract from the answer which the transcendentalist
gives to the first enquiry, an answer which shall, if
possible, satisfy the second ; and for this purpose it
is necessary to make a slight, though only a slight,
change in the usual mode of stating his doctrine.
The reader will recollect, that in the first chapter
I insisted on the obvious truth that every tenable
system of knowledge must consist partly of premises
which require no proof, and partly of inferences
which are legitimately drawn from these. What,
then, on the transcendental theory, are our premises,
and by what method do we derive from them the
required conclusion ?
If we were simply to glance at transcendental
literature, and seize on the first apparent answers to
these questions, we should be disposed to think that
the philosophers of this school assume to start with
the truth of a large part of what is commonly called
science, the very thing which, according to my view
of the subject, it is the business of philosophy to
prove. Respecting pure mathematical and pure
natural science/ says Kant, 1 * as they certainly do
exist, it may with propriety be asked how they are
1 Critique, p. 13. Tr.
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 89
possible ; for that they must be possible is shown by
the fact of their really existing.
The question, How is knowledge possible ? is
not, says Professor Green, to be confused with the
question upon which metaphysicians are sometimes
supposed to waste their time, Is knowledge possible ?
. Metaphysic is no superfluous labour. It is
no more superfluous, indeed, than is any theory of a
process which without theory we already perform. l
Passages of this sort would almost lead one to con
clude that the business of transcendental speculation
was not to justify beliefs, but to account for their
existence ; to tell us how we do a thing, not whether
we ought to do it : a view by which, apparently,
philosophy is regarded as dealing with the laws of
thought much as physiology deals with the laws of
digestion. If this were so, transcendentalism might
be an important and useful department of science,
but it could have nothing to do with the subject of
this essay. It would answer no doubt, it would
solve no difficulty. But, in truth, the language
often used by Kant and echoed above by Professor
Green, if not incorrect, is certainly misleading.
Transcendentalism is philosophical, in the sense in
which I have ventured to use the term ; it does
attempt to establish a creed, and, therefore, of neces
sity it indicates the nature of our premises and the
1 Contemporary Review, Dec. 1877.
9 o A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. |_ PA ^ "
manner in which the subordinate beliefs may be
legitimately derived from them.
On the first point its statements are not, indeed,
explicit and categorical ; but this is simply because,
for historical reasons, the philosophic problem has
not been presented to it exactly in the shape which
makes such statements necessary. Nevertheless, all
I suppose that a transcendentalist would postulate in
the first instance, or rather all that each man who
studies his system is required to postulate, is that he
knows, and is certain of, something ; he is conscious,
for example, or may be conscious, that he perceives
a coloured object, or a particular taste ; in other
words, he gets some knowledge, small or great, by
experience.
This very moderate concession, then, being
granted, as it must be granted, by the sceptic, the
next question that arises is, How can any knowledge
worth speaking of be inferred from such premises ?
It is in the answer to this that such force and
originality as there may be in transcendentalism is
really to be found ; and it is here that the full
meaning of the question which is placed at the head
of that philosophy becomes manifest. You allow,
we may suppose a transcendentalist to say, * You
allow that experience, is possible ; you allow that
some knowledge, though it may only be of the facts
of immediate perception, can be obtained by that
channel. I therefore ask you " how that experience
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 9
is possible" in what it essentially consists? and
whatever fact or principle I can show to be involved
in that experience whatever I can prove must be,
if that experience is to be of that you must, in
common consistency, grant the reality. A principle
so proved is said to be transcendentally deduced,
and it is the validity of that deduction in the cases
of causation and the existence of a persistent
world, that it is my business more particularly to
examine.
The whole value, then, of the transcendental
philosophy, so far as the questions raised in this
essay are concerned, must depend on its being able
to show that the trustworthiness of these far-reaching
scientific postulates is involved in those simple ex
periences which everybody must allow to be valid.
If it cannot prove this, it may still be a valuable
contribution to a possible philosophy ; it may still
show by its searching analysis all that is implied in
the existence of nature, as we ordinarily understand
nature, and of the sciences of nature as we are taught
to accept them ; but more than this it cannot do : it
cannot show either that such a nature exists, or that
our accounts of it are accurate ; it cannot, in other
words, supply us with a philosophy adequate to our
necessities.
Before going on to consider the general value
of this method, or the success of its application in
particular instances, it may be well to give some
92 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
examples of its reasonings by which its precise
character may be more clearly understood. Here,
for instance, is one taken from Kant s proof of
the principle of substance : Change cannot be per
ceived by us except in substances, and origin or
extinction in an absolute sense, that does not con
cern merely a determination of the permanent, can
not be a possible perception, for it is the very notion
of the permanent which renders possible the repre
sentation (perception) of a transition from one state
into another, and from non-being into being, which
consequently, can be empirically cognised only as
alternating determination of that which is permanent.
.... Substances in the world of phenomena are
the substratum of all determinations of time
Accordingly, permanence is a necessary condition
under which alone phenomena, as things or objects,
are determinable in a possible experience/ l
Now the point of this demonstration lies, as the
reader will see, in showing, or attempting to show,
that experience of change is not possible unless we
assume unchanging substance. Therefore, if we can
experience changes (as we most certainly can), we
are forced also to admit the existence of that without
which change would have no meaning.
Here is another argument of the same kind
respecting causation, which I quote from Professor
Green s introduction to Hume: A uniformity
1 Critique, pp. 140, 141. Tr.
:HAP. vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 93
which can be thus (i.e., by a single instance) esta
blished is, in the proper sense, necessary. Its ex
istence is not contingent on its being felt by any
one or everyone. It does not come into being with
the experiment that shows it. It is felt because it is
real, not real because it is felt It may be objected,
ideed, that the principle of the " uniformity of nature,"
:he principle that what is fact once is fact always,
itself gradually results from the observation of facts
r hich are feelings, and that thus the principle which
enables us to dispense with the repetition of a sensi
ble experience is itself due to such repetition. The
answer is, that feelings which are conceived as facts
are already conceived as constituents of a nature.
The same presence of the thinking subject to, and
distinction of itself from, the feelings which renders
them knowable facts, renders them members of a
world which is one throughout its changes. In
other words, the presence of facts from which the
uniformity of nature as an abstract rule is to be
inferred, is already the consciousness of that uni
formity in concrete! l In this extract the argument
is, that facts are unknowable, i.e., are no facts for us,
except as members of a uniform nature. We may
be as certain, therefore, of the uniformity of nature
as we are certain that we can know facts ; which is
another way of saying that we need have no doubt
about the matter at all.
1 Pp. 273, 274.
94 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
These quotations are not long enough, perhaps,
to do full justice to the argument of which they con
tain one statement ; but they are long enough to
show of what sort the argument in either case is.
And the essential force or point of those arguments,
as against the sceptic, seems at first sight to lie in
this : the sceptic, in questioning any principle, is
shown to be making an illegitimate abstraction from
the relations which constitute an object, an abstrac
tion which is illegitimate, because it renders the
object meaningless and unthinkable. He has to
choose, therefore, between altogether giving up the
reality of the object, or admitting a principle implied
by one of the relations of which that reality can be
shown to consist. He cannot, in all cases at least,
do the first ; he is bound, therefore, to do the
second.
Now, before proceeding to examine the force of
this reasoning, as it is employed in proving parti
cular points, one difficulty must be discussed which
attaches to it generally.
When a man is convinced by a transcendental
argument, it must be, as I have explained, because
he perceives that a certain relation or principle is
necessary to constitute his admitted experience.
This is to him a fact, the truth of which he is
obliged to recognise. But another fact, which he
may also find it hard to dispute, is that he himself,
and, as it would appear, the majority of mankind,
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 95
have habitually had this experience without ever
consciously thinking it under this relation ; and this
second fact is one which it does not seem easy to
interpret in a manner which shall harmonise with
the general theory. The transcendentalist would,
no doubt, say at once that the relation in question
had always been thought implicitly, even if it had
not always come into clear consciousness ; and having
I enunciated this dictum he would trouble himself no
further about a matter which belonged merely to the
history of the individual. But if an implicit thought
means in this connection what it means everywhere
else, it is simply a thought which is logically bound
up in some other thought, and which for that reason
may always be called into existence by it. Now,
ifrom this very definition, it is plain that so long as a
thought is implicit it does not exist. It is a mere
possibility, which may indeed at any moment become
an actuality, and which, when once an actuality, may
be indestructible ; but which, so long as it is a possi
bility, can be said to have existence only by a figure
of speech.
If, therefore, this meaning of the word implicit
be accepted, we find ourselves in a difficulty.
Either an object can exist and be a reality to an
intelligence which does not think of it under rela
tions which, as I now see, are involved in it, i.e.,
without which I cannot now think of it as an object ;
or else I am in error, when I suppose myself and
96 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
other people to have ignored these relations in past
times. If the first of these alternatives is true, the
whole transcendental system, as I understand it,
vanishes in smoke ; if the second, it comes into
apparent conflict, not only with science, and with the
avowed scientific opinions of many of its disciples,
but with the later form of the transcendental philo
sophy itself. For by that system the development
of thought is in stages ; it is driven on by its own
proper nature from one stage to another till the
highest of them is reached, where alone it can find
rest and satisfaction. But those who believe most
firmly in this theory by no means intend to assert as
a historical fact that every thinking being is intel
lectually restless until he has grasped the philosophy
of the Absolute. What they must rather be held to
mean is, that the inadequacy and self-contradiction
of a universe thought under any of the lower cate
gories can be demonstrated, and when demonstrated
to me or any other thinking being, I or he may be
obliged to seek repose by including the contradictory
elements under some category which shall reconcile
them in a higher unity ; but, they must admit that,
as a matter of fact, this demonstration has been
vouchsafed to few. There are not many, for
example, who, whatever their perplexities, can find
intellectual satisfaction in such a formula as this :
The universe is the process whereby spirit exter
nalises itself, or manifests itself in an external world,
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 97
that out of this externality, by a movement at once
positive and negative, it may rise to the highest con
sciousness of self. 1 The great body of mankind
certainly prefer a contradiction which they do not
see, to a reconciliation which they do not under
stand ; and what I desire is not to be shown how,
on transcendental grounds, such a position is unten
able, but how its existence, as a fact, is to be con
sistently accounted for. The analogy of the ordinary
logic is here misleading. It is true, no doubt, that
we may intelligently hold premises without perceiving
all or any of the deductions which may be legiti
mately drawn from them, and that, in asserting the
premises in such a case, we implicitly assert the con
clusion ; but this presents no difficulty, because it is
not the recognition of the conclusion which makes
sense of the premises. In transcendental reasoning
the case is exactly the other way. The ground, and
the whole ground, on which we are forced by that
reasoning to recognise the reality of certain rela
tions, is, that without those relations the object of
which we have experience would be as nothing for
us ; it would have neither meaning nor significance ;
and what I wish to know is, how it happens that
there exists any object at all for so many people
who are wholly innocent of any knowledge of
those relations by which it is said to be consti
tuted. If there is any value in this objection, it
1 Caird s Kant, p. 427.
II
98 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
would apparently follow from it that movement or
inference in this logic is an impossibility. So long
as the transcendentalist refuses to move so long as
he merely declines to abstract the relations by which
an object is already constituted, he stands, perhaps,
on firm ground ; but directly he tries to oblige us
to think a thing under new relations, his method
becomes either ineffective or self-destructive. If, on
the one hand, we can think the object not under these
new relations, there is nothing in the method to
compel us to do so ; for the method consists in show
ing that without this new relation the object would
not exist for us as thinking beings. If, on the other
hand, we cannot think it except under these new re
lations, then, either we were not thinking it before
or the relations are not new ; and in either case
there is no inferential movement of thought from
the known to the unknown.
From these reflections it would appear that the
transcendentalist must either give up the seeming
fact on which his system depends, or explain away a
seeming fact which is inconsistent with it The first
fact is, that a given relation is necessary to constitute
a knowledge of an object ; the second fact is, that a
great many intelligent beings, and the transcenden
talist himself, during the earlier part of his life among
the number, appear able to know it out of this rela
tion.
Now, one solution of this difficulty has been
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 99
already disposed of; it has been shown, or rather
stated (for the assertion requires no proof), that a
thought which is merely implicit is really no thought
at all, it is a creation of language, which can consti
tute nothing because it is nothing. It may however,
perhaps, be said that the thought is neither merely
implicit nor wholly explicit, but exists in a kind of
intermediate stage between nonentity and the fulness
of clear consciousness ; a stage in which it is strong
enough, so to speak, to constitute an object/ but
not strong enough to be known to the individual for
whom it performs this important function.
This is apparently one of the views taken by the
transcendentalist ; for Kant says, with the approval
of Professor Caird, that the consciousness (of a
unity) may be but weak, so that we become aware
of it only in the result produced, and not in the act
of producing it ; but that, nevertheless, the unity
of consciousness must always be present, though
it has not clearness sufficient to make it stand out. 1
In other words, the unity of consciousness which is
necessary for the existence of any experience may
lie hidden, like a drop of some powerful chemical
reagent, until its presence is made certain by the
analysis of its results.
Such a theory as this requires us to hold that
thought may, so to speak, diminish the amount of
its being till it ceases to be known as thought,
1 See Caird s Kant, p. 395.
H 2
ioo A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
thought not to behave as such ; and no doubt the
first half of this statement is correct. That a sen
sation can be weaker or stronger, can change its in
tensive quantity (to use the technical expression) is,
of course, plain. It can also be thought of under
more or fewer relations. And in both these ways
it may be said to have varying degrees of being.
The same may be said, mutatis mutandis, of thought.
According as we fix our attention on the relation
rather than on the things related, so we may, I
suppose, say that our consciousness of the relation
increases or diminishes ; but the utmost diminution
of which the consciousness is capable without anni
hilation, makes no alteration in its quality ; and if
the consciousness vanishes, the thought must vanish
too, since, except on some crude materialistic hypo
thesis, they are the same thing. This quantitative
or intensive diminution of being, then, will not ex
plain the apparent fact that so many people do not
feel the necessity of thinking things under their sup
posed necessary relations.
The second manner in which any object of
thought can be imagined to vary its being depends
on the number of relations by which it is qualified ;
and in this respect thought also, not less than sensa
tion, may be said to increase or diminish. Relations
may be compared and classed that is, may be
thought under relations not less than feelings ; and
as, no doubt, a relation which is not so compared
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 101
and classed cannot be an object of thought, cannot
be known as a relation, it may be supposed that here
we have a definition of that intermediate stage
which is required to smooth over our difficulties.
Every man, it may be said, really thinks objects
under the relations which seem to us, who have been
enlightened by transcendentalism, to be necessary ;
but he is not aware that he does so, because he has
not taken the trouble to consider them from the
points of view from which alone they can appear as
relations to him. But if this be true, what becomes
of the identity of the esse and the intelligi ?
If relations can exist otherwise than as they are
thought, why should not sensations do the same ?
Why should not the perpetual flux of unrelated
objects the metaphysical spectre which the modern
transcendentalist labours so hard to lay, why, I
say, should this not have a real existence ? We,
indeed, cannot in our reflective moments think of it
except under relations which give it a kind of unity ;
but once allow that an object may exist, but in such
a manner as to make it nothing for us as thinking
beings, and this incapacity may be simply due to the
fact that thought is powerless to grasp the reality of
things.
The transcendentalist, then, would seem pecu-
iarly bound to admit what no philosopher, perhaps,
ould be disposed to deny, that thought which is
tot known as thought cannot properly be said to
102 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
exist at all. He is therefore reduced to one of two
alternatives. Either he must maintain that it is an
error of memory and observation to suppose that
every intelligence does not at all times think objects
under their necessary relations, or else he must hold
that a necessary relation is, not a relation that is
actually required to constitute an object for a think
ing being, but is only one which, upon due reflection,
a thinking being is unable to make abstraction of.
The first of these alternatives is somewhat too
violent a contradiction of that experience which it
is the business of transcendentalism to justify, to be
seriously maintained by transcendentalists. Accord
ingly we find them admitting the fact that necessary
relations are not always thought as qualifying the
object they are supposed to constitute ; in other
words, accepting the second of the alternatives men
tioned above, but at the same time declining any
responsibility concerning a circumstance which, ac
cording to them, has to do only with the history of
the individual.
The " I think," says Kant (I am quoting Pro
fessor Caird s translation), must be capable of ac
companying all my ideas, for otherwise something
would be presented to my mind which could not be
thought ; and that is the same thing as to say that
the idea would be either impossible, or, at least, it
would be nothing for me. Again, * All ideas have
a necessary reference to a possible empirical con-
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 103
sciousness .... but, again, all empirical conscious
ness has a necessary reference to a transcendental
consciousness. . . . The mere idea " I," in reference
to all other ideas (whose collective unity it makes
possible), is the transcendental consciousness. This
idea may be clear (empiric consciousness) or obscure.
This we do not need to consider at present, nor even
whether it actually exists at all ; but the possibility
of the logical form of all knowledge rests necessarily
on the reference of it and this apperception as a
faculty: In other words, says Professor Caird,
commenting on this passage, Kant is here examin
ing what elements are involved in knowledge, and
therefore does not need to consider how far the clear
consciousness of them is developed in the individual,
nor indeed whether the individual ever actually deve-
lopes that consciousness at all. The individual (the
sensitive being who becomes the subject of know
ledge) may be at different stages on the way to clear
self-consciousness. He may be sensitive with merely
the dawning of consciousness : he may be conscious
of objects, but not distinctly self-conscious ; or, he
may be clearly conscious of the identity of self in
relation to the objects. Thus we can imagine him
to have many perceptions, which he has not distinctly
combined with the idea of self ; or we may even
suppose him (like children in the earliest period of
their life) not to have risen to the idea of self at all,
to the separation of the ego from the act whereby
104 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
the object is determined. But we cannot imagine
him to have any ideas which are incapable of being
combined with the idea of self, for such ideas would
be ideas incapable of being thought, incapable of
forming part of the intelligible contents of conscious
ness ; they would be for us a thinking being, " as
good as nothing." Though, therefore, we can think
of an experience in which all the elements which the
critical philosopher distinguishes are not consciously
or separately present to the individual, we cannot
think of an experience which does not imply them
all. l From these extracts it would appear that both
Kant and Kant s latest expositor are agreed in
thinking that all that is required to constitute a
perception in other words, an experience is not
that the object of that perception should actually be
thought in the relations which we are told are neces
sary to make it an object, but only that it should be
capable of being so thought. But with such an ad
mission the whole transcendental argument appears
to me to vanish away. The rules which thought
was supposed to impress upon Nature, according to
which Nature must be, because without them she
would be nothing to us as thinking beings, these
rules turn out, after all, to be only of subjective
validity. They are the casual necessities of our re
flective moments : necessities which would have been
unmeaning to us in our childhood, of which the mass
1 Phil, of Kant, p. 396.
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 105
of mankind are never conscious, and from which we
ourselves are absolved during a large portion of our
lives. To argue from these necessities to the truth
of things is merely to repeat the old fallacy about
innate ideas in another form, for if thought does not
make experience (and it appears that in any intelli
gible meaning of that expression it does not), then
there is no reason for supposing that experience need
conform to thought.
The net result of this discussion appears, then,
to be that, according to transcendentalism, relations
are involved in experience in at least two ways, the
difference between which, though it is never recog
nised by that philosophy, is exceedingly important.
According to the first way, an explicit consciousness
of the relation in question is a necessary element in
every possible experience ; without it the experience
would be nothing to us as thinking beings, and by
it, therefore, the experience may very fairly be said
to be constituted. But the number of relations,
necessary in this sense, cannot be large, even ac
cording to the transcendentalists themselves ; nor can
the necessity ever be established by argument, since
the mere fact that somebody who knows the mean
ing of the words he uses disputes it, proves that it
does not exist. If a man does not find that a
particular relation, about which there is a question,
is involved in his experience, an argument founded
on the circumstance that no experience is possible
106 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
which is not in fact constituted by an explicit con
sciousness of such a relation, is not likely to convince
him that it is there. The mere consideration that
proof is required makes proof impossible.
The second way in which a transcendentalist re
gards relations as involved in experience differs from
that just discussed in several important particulars ;
for whereas in that the explicit consciousness of the
relation was required to constitute the object, in this
all that is required is that the object must be capable
of being thought under the relation. It is plainly
incorrect to describe the relation in this last case as
constituting the object ; it cannot even be said
that the capability of being thought under the re
lation necessarily constitutes it ; for, according to the
transcendentalist, esse is equivalent to intelligi
that is, an object is, as it is apprehended by a
thinking being, and since a thinking being can, as is
admitted, apprehend it without in all cases perceiv
ing the capability, this cannot be required to render
the object real. As far then as this second class of re
lations is concerned, the transcendentalist s argument
seems involved in something like fatal inconsistency.
Because he finds himself, in bringing an object into
( clear consciousness, unable to make abstraction of
a certain relation, he elevates this incapacity into
a universal and necessary characteristic of objects ;
while at the same time admitting that other intelli
gences and his own intelligence at other times have
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 107
actually had objects presented to them without this
characteristic.
Enough has perhaps been said about this general
objection (if it be an objection) to the transcendental
method, and it is now time to follow the philosophers
who employ it, in their special endeavours to show
that when the nature of experience is once brought
to the clear consciousness of the reader, he, at any
rate, can be in no further doubt as to the necessity
of regarding objects in space as persistent and inde
pendent, and all objects whatever as subject to the
law of universal causation.
Kant s refutation of Idealism was only introduced
into the second edition of the Critique, and was the
main occasion of Schopenhauer s assertion that Kant
had changed his view between the first edition of
that work and the second, respecting the external
world. I understand, however, that this is not
admitted by his later critics ; that they regard the
4 Refutation as satisfactory in itself, and as har
monising with the general course of its author s
speculations ; and that the proof of realism con
tained in it is the one on which they would be
disposed to rely. As such, therefore, I am forced
to criticise it.
I say forced, because it is somewhat unwillingly
that I go to Kant direct for the statement of an
argument, partly because there is never any security
that his disciples will admit that his reasoning in any
io8 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
particular case is in consonance with the rest of his
system ; partly because his obscurity is so great that
his critics are as likely to be attacked for not under
standing his arguments as for not having answered
them, a proceeding by which what was intended to
be a philosophic discussion is suddenly converted
into a historical one. Yet the defects of his expo
sition are so great that no care will really avert this
danger ; for he has contrived to state a theory of
great difficulty in itself, and of which his own grasp
does not appear to have been at all times perfectly
sure in language which always seems to be strug
gling to express a meaning which it can never get
quite clear, and which possesses in an astonishing
degree the peculiarity of being technical without
being precise.
As, however, I am not acquainted with any neo-
Kantian statement of the transcendental argument
on this subject, it is to Kant himself that I must
appeal ; and, fortunately, the formal refutation of
Idealism which he has advanced is so short (apart
from the elucidatory notes) that I can quote it entire.
It runs as follows : 1
THEOREM.
The simple but empirically determined conscious
ness of my own existence proves the existence of ex
ternal objects in space.
1 The translation here referred to is Mr. Meiklejohn s.
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 109
PROOF.
I am conscious of my own existence as deter
mined in time. All determinations in regard to time
pre-suppose the existence of something permanent in
perception. But this permanent something cannot
be something in me, for the very reason that my ex
istence in time is itself determined by this permanent
something. It follows that the perception of this
permanent existence is possible only through a thing
without me, and not through the mere representation
of a thing without me. Consequently, the deter
mination of my existence in time is possible only
through the existence of real things external to me.
Now, consciousness in time is necessarily connected
with the consciousness of the possibility of this de
termination in time. Hence it follows that conscious
ness in time is necessarily connected also with the
existence of things without me, inasmuch as the
existence of these things is the condition of deter
mination in time. That is to say, the consciousness
of my own existence is at the same time an imme
diate consciousness of the existence of other things
without me. l
This proof, it will be observed, is transcendental,
i.e., its method of procedure is to show that an ex
perience which we certainly have [that, namely, of
1 Critique, tr. p. 167.
no A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
the series of our mental states as they occur in time]
is impossible, unless the thing to be proved [which is
stated (though, as we shall see, inadequately stated)
to be the existence of external objects in space] be ad
mitted. And the demonstration consists of two steps.
First, it is asserted that the experience of a succes
sion of things in time is impossible except in relation
to something permanent, or in other words, that the
perception of change is inconceivable, unless we at
the same time perceive something which does not
change. And in the second place, Kant goes on
to say, that since that which changes in this case
is myself (my phenomenal self), since the things
which succeed each other in time are my own
mental states, the unchanging object to which they
are referred must be outside myself; that is, must
be the external object whose existence was to be
proved. So that if we immediately perceive the
one, it can only be on condition that we immediately
perceive the other also.
Such is the formal answer which Kant has given
to Idealism ; but it is not in this way only that he
has treated the question, since in his proof of the
principle of substance [which precedes the refu
tation in the Critique, ] he has brought forward
arguments which, if sound, would seem to render
any further refutation superfluous. For, the First
Analogy of Experience asserts this, < That in all
changes of phenomena substance is permanent ; and
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. in
the quantum thereof in nature is neither increased
nor diminished. 1 And as by substance Kant means
something which, if it is not (as I think it is) exactly
equivalent to what is commonly called matter, is at
any rate the genus of which matter is one species ;
clearly this proposition is absolutely inconsistent
with Idealism in the sense in which I use the
term. If matter is to be thought of as permanent
and indestructible, we are clearly under the neces
sity of thinking that there is in nature something be
sides the fleeting succession of our conscious states.
The proof of this Principle of Substance, which
I give partly in Kant s words, partly in Professor
Caird s, and partly in my own, runs somewhat in
this way : All phenomena exist in time. Change is
only conceivable in an unchanging time. But this
time is not, and cannot be, itself an object of percep
tion, but is rather a form given to the relations of
perception which supposes that they are otherwise
related. They must be otherwise related as deter
minations of a permanent substance. As all times
are in one time, so all changes must be in one per
manent object. The conception of the permanence
of the object is implied in all determinations of its
changes. Change involves that one mode of exist
ence follows another mode of existence in an object
recognised as the same. Therefore a thing which
changes, changes only in its states or accidents, not
1 Critique, p. 136.
ii2 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
in its substance. An experience of absolute anni
hilation or creation is impossible, for it would be an
experience of two events so absolutely separated
from each other that they could not even be referred
to one time. The First Analogy, therefore, is a
deduction from the possibility of experience, and
requires no empirical proof. When a philosopher
was asked, What is the weight of smoke ? he
answered, Subtract from the weight of the burnt
wood the weight of the remaining ashes, and you
will have the weight of the smoke. Thus, he pre
sumed it to be incontrovertible that even in fire the
matter (substance) does not perish, but only the form
of it undergoes a change. 1
The reader will at once perceive that while there
is much that is common to the Refutation and the
First Analogy, there are some arguments and doc
trines peculiar to each, a fact which makes the satis
factory discussion of the question rather difficult ;
because, while it is impossible to treat the two
arguments as identical, it is somewhat clumsy and
would lead to a good deal of repetition to consider
them altogether separately.
The most convenient course, perhaps, will be
first to consider the points which are to be found in
both, and then to proceed with the examination of
their mutual relationship and with what is special to
each of them.
1 Cf. Kant, Critique, p. 136 ; Caird, p. 453.
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 113
The first difficulty, then, which occurs to me,
and which, perhaps, others may feel, refers to that
transcendental necessity which is the very pith
and marrow of the whole demonstration, both in the
Refutation and in the * First Analogy/ Is it really
true that change is nothing to us as thinking beings
except we conceive it in relation to a permanent and
unchanging substance ? For my part, however much
I try to bring the matter into clear consciousness,
I feel myself bound by no such necessity. For
though change may perhaps be unthinkable, except
for what Professor Green calls a combining/ and,
therefore, to a certain extent a persisting conscious
ness, and though it may have no meaning out of
relation to that which is not-change, this not-
change by no means implies permanent substance.
On the contrary, the smallest recognisable persis
tence through time would seem enough to make
change in time intelligible by contrast ; and I cannot
help thinking that the opposite opinion derives its
chief plausibility from the fact that in ordinary
language permanence is the antithesis to change ;
whence it is rashly assumed that they are correla
tives which imply each other in the system of
nature. It has to be noted also, that Kant, in his
proof of the analogy, makes a remark (quoted and
approved by Professor Caird) which almost seems
to concede this very point, for he says, Only the
permanent is subject to change : the mutable suffers
n 4 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
no change, but rather alternation ; that is, when
certain determinations cease, others begin. 1 Now
there can be no objection, of course, from a philo
sophical point of view, to an author defining a word
in any sense he pleases : what is not permissible is
to make such a definition the basis of an argument
to matters of fact ; yet the above passage suggests
the idea that Kant s proof of the permanence of
substance is not altogether free from this vice. If
(by definition) change can only occur in the perma
nent, the fact that there is change is no doubt a
conclusive proof that there is a permanent. But
the question then arises, is there change in this
sense ? How do we know that there is anything
more than alternation which (by definition) can take
place in the mutable ? All transcendental arguments
convince by threats. Allow my conclusion/ they
say, or I will prove to you that you must surrender
one of your own cherished beliefs. But in this case
the threat is hardly calculated to frighten the most
timid philosopher. There must be a permanent, say
the transcendentalists, or there can be no change ;
but this surely is no very serious calamity, if we are
allowed to keep alternation, which seems to me, I
confess, a very good substitute, and one with which
the ordinary man may very well content himself.
To those who agree with the preceding account
of our intellectual necessities, who can either conceive
1 Critique, p. 140.
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 115
change without permanence, or are content to get
along with the help of alternation, it will seem ab
solutely fatal to the whole Kantian argument, both
in the First- Analogy and the Refutation. To
those who do not agree, it will only be a difficulty in
so far as the existence of any mind unconscious of
transcendental necessities is inconsistent with the
transcendental theory, a point I have already dis
cussed. But let us pass over this, and grant, for the
sake of argument, that change in general, or the
succession of our mental states in particular, can
only be perceived in relation to a permanent some
thing ; then I ask (and this is the next most obvious
objection) why, in order to obtain this permanent
something, should we go to external matter ? As
the reader is aware, the pure ego of apperception
supplies, on the Kantian system, the unity in refe
rence to which alone the unorganised multiplicity of
perception becomes a possible experience ; and it
seems hard to understand why that which supplies
unity to multiplicity may not also supply permanence
to succession. Kant has, indeed, anticipated this
objection, and replied to it ; but as I understand the
objection much better than I do the reply, I will
content myself with giving the latter, without para
phrase, in Kant s own words : We find, he says,
* that we possess nothing permanent that can corre
spond and be submitted to the conception of a
substance as intuition, except matter In
n6 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
the representation /, the consciousness of myself, is
not an intuition, but a merely intellectual represen
tation produced by the spontaneous activity of a
thinking subject. It follows, that this / has not any
predicate of intuition, which, in its character of per
manence, could serve as correlate to the determi
nation of time in the internal sense, in the same way
as impenetrability is the correlate of matter as an
empirical intuition. ]
Though I do not profess altogether to understand
this reasoning, it is, at all events, clear from it, that
the " permanent whose existence is demonstrated
must be an object of perception ; a fact which is
also evident from various passages in the proof of
the First Analogy, as, for instance, this : Time
itself cannot be an object of perception. It follows
that in objects of perception, that is in phenomena,
there must be found a substratum, &c. 2 It is
difficult to see indeed how that which is a quantity,
incapable of either increase or diminution, can be
other than an object of perception : it cannot, at all
events, be a concept ; and we may, I think, assume
from the whole tenor of Kant s argument, as well as
from his categorical assertions, that the substance of
which he speaks is a phenomenal thing. But if it
be perceived, and if it be a phenomenon, where is it
to be found ? In the perpetual flux of nature, where
objects do indeed persist for a time, but where (to all
1 Critique, p. 168. 2 Critique, p. 137.
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 117
appearance) nothing is eternal, who has had expe
rience of this unchanging existence ? By a dialectical
process, probably familiar to the reader, we may with
much plausibility reduce what we perceive in an
object to a collection of related attributes, not one of
which is the object itself, but all of which are the
changing attributes or accidents of the object. But
if this process be legitimate, the substratum of
these accidents is either never perceived at all, or,
at all events, is only known as a relation. In neither
case can it be the permanent of which Kant speaks,
since in the first case it is not an object of immediate
perception ; in the second it can hardly be regarded
as an object at all. But (it may perhaps be replied),
by a remarkable coincidence, science has established
by a wide induction the very truth which Kant at
tempts to prove a priori. When men of science tell
us that matter is indestructible, it is to be presumed
that they attach some meaning to the phrase, and
are referring neither to a metaphysical substance nor
to an evanescent appearance. When Kant uses the
same phrase, it may be supposed that he refers to
the same object. For my own part, I confess to a
rooted distrust of these remarkable coincidences
between the results of scientific experiment and
a priori speculation ; nor does a closer examination
of this particular case tend to allay the feeling. It
is true, no doubt, that science asserts matter to be
indestructible ; but what is the exact meaning of the
n8 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
phrase, and what is its evidence ? Can we perceive
any thread of identity running through all the various
changes which (what we describe as) one substance
may undergo ? To a certain extent science assures
us that we can. There are two, though, so far as I
know, only two attributes of matter, namely, its rela
tion to a moving force and its power of attracting
and being attracted by other matter, which never
alter ; or, to put it more strictly, if we take a certain
area of observation (say a closed vessel) out of
which matter cannot pass and into which it cannot
enter, then, whatever changes occur within this, the
matter there, whether always the same or not, never
varies in respect of these two properties.
But it has to be observed, that though we can
directly perceive both velocity and weight, the fact
that there are unchanging relations between a given
portion of matter and a given force, or between two
portions of given matter, can only be established
by an elaborate process of inference involving a
large number of assumptions. It might, therefore,
be plausibly contended that though they are per
ceived, \hz\r permanence is not, so that they cannot
properly be said to form any permanent element in
perception. Passing over this possible objection,
however, and, granting for the sake of argument,
that we directly perceive the permanence of these
two properties of matter, it is still clear, that since
these are the only two properties of which we can
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 119
say as much, either they must constitute matter, or
matter, in so far as it is permanent, cannot be an
object of perception. The first alternation is in
admissible, because these properties are merely
relations between certain portions of matter and
something else. The second would seem to be
inconsistent with the Kantian proof.
The reader will understand that I am not here
contending that Kant s conclusion is inconsistent
with science, or that the scientific inference is wrong,
either in its method or its results. My point is
rather this : Though Kant does not, of course,
conclude to the necessary permanence of matter
merely from its permanence in perception, never
theless its permanence in perception would seem
to be involved in his proof. Now I assert that
what we perceive, in so far as it is perceived, is
either not matter or is not permanent ; and I main
tain that an examination of that part of the ordinary
scientific or empirical proof which bears on the
question really confirms this view.
It may perhaps be thought (and some of Kant s
expressions countenance the view) that he means to
say no more than that we perceive the permanent
substance by means of certain of its accidents. But
this seems to raise new difficulties. First, how is
the phenomenal substance thus mediately known, to
be distinguished from the noumenal substance which,
if it be known at all, is known precisely in the same
120 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
way ? Why should we suppose it to be in time
or space ? Why should we suppose it to be a
quantity ? And how, finally, can we say with any
meaning, that such a substance is phenomenal at
all ? To put the matter in one sentence when
Kant says that all determination in regard to time
presupposes the existence of something permanent
in perception/ if his assertion is to be taken literally,
it is in contradiction with experience, for there is
nothing permanent in perception, unless we choose
to describe the relations of matter to force and other
gravitating matter in that way ; if, on the other
hand, he means that what we perceive indicates the
existence of something permanent, he has first got
to prove the fact, and has then got to show that the
permanent whose reality is thus established is
identical with the external world of science and
common sense ; and lastly, to point out how we can
be said to be immediately conscious ! of that which
we only know through, and by means of, its
attributes.
Such, then, are the chief objections which, as I
think, apply with equal force to the * First Analogy
and the Refutation/ Before going on to explain
any difficulties, which are special to either, let me
point out a curious consequence which may be ex
tracted from the two demonstrations considered
together.
1 Critique -, p. 167.
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 121
Kant s argument in the Refutation consisted,
it will be recollected, in showing that we could have
no experience of our own changing mental states
unless we perceived some permanent object outside us ;
while in the First Analogy/ his argument involved
the assertion that all changes are but the determina
tions of some permanent substance, which itself never
changes. According to the First Analogy, there
fore, our changing mental states, like all other
changes, must be determinations, or, as they are
usually called, accidents, of a permanent substance ;
while, according to the Refutation/ this permanent
substance must be an object of perception indepen
dent of us and outside us in space in other words,
matter. Between them these two propositions
would seem to furnish a complete transcendental
proof that our conscious states must be thought as
mere accidents of a material substance ; so that the
crude materialism of certain modern physiologists,
far from being the rash conclusion of an unphilosophic
empiricism, is demonstrable a priori by approved
critical methods !
The only further remark I have to make on the
( First Analogy is of the nature, perhaps, of a verbal
criticism. Kant speaks throughout of matter as if it
were a definite quantity in nature, a quantity which
could neither be increased nor diminished. But
this would seem to be inconsistent with his theory
that a vacuum is impossible, because if matter is
122 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
wherever space is, it must, one should think, be not
less impossible to conceive the first as a totality than
it is to conceive the second ; and the words in
crease and diminution must be altogether mean
ingless in their application to a quantity whose
amount is necessarily indefinite. Kant s expression,
therefore, is a somewhat loose one, and he must be
held to mean simply that matter exists, and that no
portion of it can be created or destroyed. I may
add, that in his discussion of a vacuum he points out
that matter may be a quantity in more than one
way, but that neither in the First Analogy nor the
Refutation does he explicitly tell us in which way
it is incapable of diminution. It would be interest
ing to know this, in order that his results might be
compared with the results at which, by very different
methods, men of science have arrived.
My concluding criticism refers to the Refuta
tion, and I must ask the reader to turn back to it,
and to compare the thing which Kant announces his
intention of proving with the thing he professes to
have proved. In the * Theorem, the thing to be
demonstrated is the existence of external objects
in space ; in the Proof, the thing actually demon
strated is the existence of real things external to me
that is, things which are not themselves something
in me, though of course their representations are so,
without me being evidently equivalent to c other
than my conscious states, as determined in time/
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 123
Now if these two expressions really meant the same
thing, any further refutation of Idealism would be
perfectly superfluous. No human being that under
stood the meaning- of his own words would for a
moment deny that there were objects in space, and
therefore without him in the sense of being outside
his body. The real question is this Does being
in space and outside the body imply that the ex
tended and external object is outside the mind, and
other than one of a series of conscious states ? The
realist asserts that it does, the idealist asserts that it
does not ; and to assume, as Kant appears to do,
that the one proposition is very much the same as
the other is, in reality, to beg the whole question
at issue. For unless Kant s intention is merely
to demonstrate the existence of extended objects,
which it is equally unnecessary and impossible to do,
it must, I suppose, be to show that their existence
is independent of their being perceived neither
beginning with it nor perishing with it; and in order
to do this he must prove, from his point of view,
two things. The first of these is, that the con
sciousness of one s own existence in time is only
possible on the supposition that something per
manent exists outside, i.e., other than, one s self; the
second is, that this permanent and independent
thing is in any sense identical with extended matter.
The evidence for the first of these positions I have
already considered ; the evidence for the second is
124 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
nowhere explicitly stated ; but I cannot help suspect
ing (though it seems scarcely credible) that Kant
omitted to provide any, though a temporary lapse
into the common though absurd assumption that
outside in one sense is equivalent to, or, at
all events, necessarily implies > * outside in the other. 1
With the difficulty which most philosophers feel in
understanding how that which is an immediate
object of perception can be other than in conscious
ness, a difficulty which is certainly not lessened by
the Kantian theory of space, Kant himself makes
no attempt to deal. I turn now from the transcen
dental proof of an external world to the transcen
dental proof of the law of Causation.
In his proof of the law of Causation, contained
in the Second Analogy of Experience, Kant, if I
understand him rightly, adopts two lines of argu
ment ; the one on which he appears to lay most
stress being consistent neither with itself nor with
the other. In discussing it I am unfortunately
deprived of the assistance of Professor Caird, who,
in the exercise of his discretion as an expositor of
the Critical Philosophy, has chosen practically to
ignore it. I will not venture^to determine whether
1 I do not of course suppose that Professor Caird and the Neo-
Kantians are guilty of the confusion of thought which I here attribute
to Kant. But (as I explained above) since they appear to be content
with the argument in the_ form in which Kant left it ; since at all
events they have not, so far as I know, thought fit to provide a
corrected version of it, I am not only justified, but compelled, to
treat it as if it were an authentic exposition of their views.
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 125
in so doing he has orjias not somewhat transgressed
even the very wide limits imposed on him by the
plan of his work ; but lest the reader should imagine
that the absence of the argument I am about to
state from the commentary, implies its non-existence
in the original, I will ask him to consult the
Critique/ * and see whether it may not be attri
buted to Kant with as much plausibility as any in
the whole range of the Critique. It runs as
follows I give it partly in my own words, partly in
Kant s, though the italics are always mine : Our
apprehension of the manifold of phenomena is
always successive. But sometimes we regard this
manifold of phenomena as constituting an object
(say a house), sometimes as a series of events (as
when a ship is seen to float down a river). Subjec
tively, in apprehension, these two series would seem
to be of the ^same kind ; objectively, as every one
knows, we widely distinguish them. We no more
suppose that the upper story of the house, if we
begin looking at it at the top, is a phenomenon pre
ceding in time the ground floor, than we suppose
the ship is at the same time at two different places
on the river. Yet in consciousness we perceive the
ground floor after the upper story, exactly as we
perceive the ship lower down the river after we
perceive it higher up. The problem then that
requires solution is this : How do we distinguish, as
1 Page 142 seq.
126 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
in experience we certainly do distinguish, the first
series from the second ? And Kant s answer is
that we can only distinguish them if we regard the
order of the first series as arbitrary, and that of the
second as subject to a rule. * In the former example
my perceptions in the apprehension of the house
might begin at the roof and end at the foundation,
or vice versa ; or I might apprehend the manifold in
this empirical intuition by going from right to left
or from left to right. Accordingly, in the series of
these perceptions, there was no determined order
which necessitated my beginning at a certain point
in order empirically to connect the manifold. In
the second case the order is objective : it in no way
depends on the mode in which we choose to repre
sent it ; and this can only be if we suppose that it
occurs in conformity with a rule or law. And this
becomes at once apparent, if for an instant we try
and imagine the contrary to be the case. Let us
suppose that nothing precedes an event upon which
this event must follow in conformity with a rule.
All sequence of perception would then exist only in
apprehension, that is to say, woitld be merely subjec
tive, and it could not thereby be objectively deter
mined what thing ought to precede and what ought
to follow in perception. In such a case we should
have nothing biit a play of representation, which
would possess no application to any object. That
is to say, it would not be possible through perception
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 127
to distinguish one phenomenon from another, as
regards relation of time ; because the succession in
the act of apprehension would always be of the same
sort, and therefore there would be nothing in the
phenomenon to determine the succession, and to
render a certain sequence objectively necessary.
And, in this case, I cannot say that two states in a
phenomenon follow one upon the other, but only that
one apprehension follows upon another. But this is
merely subjective, and does not determine an object,
and consequently cannot be held to be a cognition
of an object not even in the phenomenal world.
Accordingly, when we know in experience that
something happens, we always suppose that some
thing precedes, whereupon it follows in conformity
with a rule. For otherwise I could not say of the
object that it follows ; because the mere succession in
my apprehension, if it be not determined by a ride in
relation to something preceding, does not authorise
succession in the object. Only, therefore, in reference
to a rule, according to which phenomena are deter
mined in their sequence, that is, as they happen,
by the preceding state, can I make my subjective
synthesis of apprehension objective ; and it is only
under this presupposition that even the experience
of an event is possible.
Starting then from the succession in apprehen
sion, or the subjective succession of phenomena,
Kant had to distinguish from it -first, the objective
128 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
coexistence which constitutes a thing in space a
house, a tree, and so forth ; and second, the objective
sequence which constitutes a series of events. As I
pointed out in the section on the independent world,
he does not, so far as I know, furnish any principle
of objective coexistence, but in the law of causation
he finds the principle of objective sequence. Or, to
put it in a transcendental form, he holds that the
experience of (objective) events is only possible if
we presuppose the law of causation, and as we cer
tainly have such an experience, &c.
Now, regarded as a proof of the law of universal
causation, the argument I have just stated is scarcely
worth criticising. In the first place, Professor Caird,
after Schopenhauer, admits that the conclusion is
inconsistent with one of the premises. If it can be
said to prove that sequence in the object is accord
ing to a rule, it is only by showing in the first
instance that sequence in the subject is arbitrary ;
so that the causation proved is at all events not uni
versal. But. in the second place, it does not prove,
or attempt to prove, that there is actually an objec
tive sequence according to a necessary rule, but only
that if there is an objective sequence, it must be
according to a necessary rule, because otherwise
it coulcl not be distinguished from the subjective
sequence. Now these are very different propositions ;
and the second or conditional one might be admitted
to its full extent, without admitting the truth of the
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 129
first or unconditional one, which is for purposes of
science the proposition for which proof is required.
The second proof which Kant gives of the prin
ciple of causality is so hidden away in the recesses
of the first, that some doubt might perhaps be thrown
on whether he intended formally to put it forward as
a proof at all. The fact that it is in direct contradic
tion to the first proof, does not perhaps go far
towards helping us to a decision on this point ; but
in any case the matter is not of much importance, as
I am more concerned with the meaning which the
post-Kantians extract from his writings, than with
that which he himself intended to put into them.
The first proof attempted to show that the expe
rience of an objective sequence was only possible
if it was distinguished from a subjective sequence
by being according to a rule. The second proof at
tempts to show that no sequence can be experienced
except on the same terms. It is plain, therefore, that
the second proof aims at demonstrating a causation
which is universal, and which cannot, therefore, be
reconciled with the partial causation contemplated by
the first. It only remains for us to examine whether
it is more satisfactory. I give it entire in Professor
Caird s words : l
The judgment of sequence cannot be made
without the presupposition of the judgment of cau
sality. For time is a mere form of the relation of
1 Phil, of Kant, pp. 454-5.
K
1 30 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
things, and cannot be perceived by itself. Only when
we have connected events with each other can we
think of them as in time. And the connection must
be such, that the different elements of the manifold
of the events are determined in relation to each other,
in the same way as the different moments in time are
determined in relation to each other. But it is evi
dent that the moments of time are so. determined
in relation to each other that we can only put them
into one order i.e., that we can proceed from the
previous to the subsequent moment, but not vice
versa. Now, if objects or events cannot be dated in
relation to time, but only in relation to each other, it
follows that they cannot be represented as in time at
all, unless they have an irreversible order ; or, in other
words, unless they are so related according to a
universal rule, when one thing is posited something
else must necessarily be posited in consequence. In
every representation of events as in time, this pre
supposition is implied ; and the denial of causality
necessarily involves the denial of all succession in
time.
It appears to be asserted in this proof that we
cannot conceive succession, unless we suppose that
there is a necessary order in phenomena to enable
them, so to speak, to correspond with and fit into the
necessary order in the moments of time. Events
are determined in relation to each other in the same
\i.e., I suppose, some corresponding way, as different
( IMP. vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 131
moments are determined in relation to each other.
But in so far as I can attach any definite meaning
to these words at all, they seem to distinguish two
things which are really the same, and to confound
two things which are really distinct. The order of
events and the * order of moments are not two kinds
of order, but one kind ; and if we assert that two
events succeed each other, we are describing precisely
the same relationship between them as when we
assert that two moments succeed each other. When,
on the other hand, we assert that one event is the
cause of another, we assert not only this actual suc
cession, but also, by implication, a similar succession
whenever an event resembling the cause or first term
in the relationship may happen to occur. But this
relationship is so far independent of time, that though
it must occur in some time, it may occur in any time,
and it in no way corresponds with the relation be
tween actual successive events or successive moments
which can never be repeated, because, the related
terms can never recur. Event A and moment a are
followed by event B and moment b. This happens
once actually and, if you please, necessarily ; but it
never happens again. The events vanish into the
past as certainly as the moments in which they occur,
and they can as little be recalled. But all this has
nothing to do with causation. What the principle of
causation, strictly speaking, asserts is, not that if
event A recurs it will be followed by event B, for
K 2
132 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
event A cannot possibly recur ; but that if an event
similar to A recurs, an event similar to B will cer
tainly follow : and how this second hypothetical as
sertion is involved in the categorical assertion of a
simple historical succession between actual concrete
events and moments, altogether passes my under
standing.
The transcendental view appears to be, that be
cause there is a necessary order between successive
moments, therefore there must be a necessary order
between successive events ; and this desired neces
sity can only be found in the principle of causation.
But if there was no causality at all, the order of events
would still be just as much or just as little necessary
as the order of moments. An event is what it is
because it happens when it does. A moment is what
it is because it occurs when it does. Neither the one
nor the other could occur at any other time, simply
because by so doing it would cease to be itself. It is
true of course (and this is no doubt the cause of all
the confusion) that we habitually talk of the same
event as occurring at different times, while we make
no such assertion respecting particular moments.
But this is simply because the whole essence of a
moment consists in the time at which it occurs,
whereas it is commonly the case that this is the least
interesting of all the relations which constitute an
event, and the one of which it is therefore most often
convenient to make abstraction. Nor is it to the
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 133
purpose to say that events cannot be dated in rela
tion to time, but only in relation to other events ;
because in every sense in which this can be asserted
of particular events, it can likewise be asserted of
particular moments. If, therefore, this fact neces
sitates causation in the one case (which, however, I
deny), it must necessitate it also in the other which
is absurd.
Other objections besides these might no doubt be
taken against particular points in the transcendental
proof, but the best refutation of it is to be found in
its own version of its general nature and object.
That object is simply to show that a clear idea of
succession is impossible, except to those who first
regard phenomena as necessarily connected according
to the principle of causation ; which, again, is as
much as to say that by far the larger part of mankind
have no clear idea of succession at all. And when I
say the larger part of mankind, it must be remem
bered that in that majority are included not only all
those who do not believe in the universality of cau
sation, but also almost all those who do ; since I will
make bold to say that the greater number of these,
however much they turn their minds to the nature of
succession in time, do not find involved therein the
principle of cause and effect. This necessity, then,
under which the transcendentalists labour, if it is
to be of * objective application, and is to have any
philosophic value at all, requires us to believe that
i 3 4 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
mankind has been, and is, suffering under a very
singular illusion respecting the clearness of its own
ideas, on a point which is commonly thought to be so
simple as to defy further analysis. This by itself is
sufficiently hard to believe ; and the difficulty does
not diminish when we come to examine the matter
more closely. For what does the supposed necessity
oblige us to hold ? That when we perceive two
events in succession, the first is the cause of the
second ? Not at all. But that when we perceive
two events in succession, there exists somewhere a
cause for the second a cause possibly (indeed, pro
bably) of which we are, and shall remain for ever,
ignorant ! So that what the transcendental doctrine
comes to is this, that we can have, and do have, an
idea of succession which is not causal, but that we
cannot have such idea, at least in clear conscious
ness/ which does not involve the idea of some other
succession which is indeed causal, but one element
of which is, or may be, quite unknown to us !
On the whole, then, I cannot agree with Herr
Kuno Fischer that Kant s giant strength n has been
very happily employed in this attempt to place the
doctrine of causation beyond the reach of sceptical
attack ; on the contrary, it seems to me that all the
difficulties inherent in. the transcendental method, and
all the confusion and obscurity which are so often
to be met with in Kant s use of that method, are
1 Fischer s Kant, p. i (8.
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 135
strikingly exhibited in his treatment of this central
and important principle. It is commonly asserted
that it was Hume s theory (that our expectation or
belief in the uniformity of Nature is the result of
habit) which suggested to Kant the necessity of
finding some more solid basis on which to rest our
systematic knowledge of phenomena. If so, it is
unfortunate that it should be precisely at this point
that the ingenious and important method of proof,
which it is his chief glory to have invented, most
obviously and completely breaks down.
I have only to point out, in conclusion, that had
the transcendental demonstration been as sound in all
its parts as Herr Kuno Fischer and Professor Caird
suppose it to be, the thing proved is not sufficient
by itself to serve as a basis for scientific induction.
All that Kant can be said, on the most favourable
view of his reasoning, to have established is that,
to use his own words, the phenomena in the past
determine all the phenomena in succeeding time ;
or, as Professor Caird phrases it, the subsequent
state of the world is the effect of the previous state.
But something more than a fixed relation between
the totality of phenomena at one instant and the
totality of phenomena at the next instant, is required
before we can, in the scientific sense of the expression,
assert that these are ( laws of nature. A law of nature
- refers to a fixed relation, not between the totality of
phenomena, but between extremely small portions of
136 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
that totality ; and it asserts a fixed connection, not
between individual concrete phenomena, but between
classes of phenomena. Now by no known process
of logic can we extract from the general proposition,
that the subsequent state of the world is the effect
of the previous state, any evidence that such laws as
these exist at all ; and what is more, this general
proposition might be perfectly true, and yet the
course of nature might be, to all intents and purposes,
absolutely irregular, even to an intelligence which,
very unlike our own, was able to grasp phenomena
in their totality at any given moment. For regula
rity is an expression absolutely inapplicable to series,
in which there is no kind of repetition ; and we have
no reason for supposing from the point of view of
science we have every reason for not supposing
that the world will ever return exactly to the same
state in which it was at some previous moment.
If, therefore, we have grounds for believing that
the states of the universe at two successive instants
are connected only as wholes, and not necessarily by
means of independent causal links between their
separate parts, then of such a universe we could say,
perhaps, that its course through time was determined,
but we could not say that it was regular, nor would
it be possible for a mind, however gifted, to infer, by
any known process of reasoning, its future from its
past.
If I may judge from a phrase of Professor Caird s,
CHAP, vi.] TRANSCENDENTALISM. 137
he holds a different opinion, for he appears to think
that the existence of causal links between individual
phenomena follows necessarily from the fact of a
causal connection between the totality of phenomena
at different times. To find/ he says, 1 the special
threads of causality which connect the sequent states
of objects is of course a matter of careful observation
and experiment. But in asserting sequence we have
already by implication asserted that the threads are
there I do not know whether the implication here
spoken of is transcendental. Its nature is developed
neither by Kant nor by himself, and my own unas
sisted efforts to find it in the clear consciousness of
sequence have, as perhaps was natural, met with no
success. But if it is not transcendental, certainly it is
not empirical. I showed before, that, admitting the
existence of these causal threads, experience alone
could never show their precise nature ; still less, if
we do not admit their existence, can experience alone
prove it. It is not, however, necessary to waste the
reader s time in establishing this point. The trans-
cendentalist would be ready to admit it without de
monstration, since, if he allowed that experience was
a sufficient ground of belief in this case, he would
find it hard to deny its sufficiency in other cases ;
while, on the empiricist s view of the question I
have, sufficiently dwelt in the earlier chapters of this
essay.
1 1 J - 459-
138 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
CHAPTER VII.
THREE ARGUMENTS FROM POPULAR PHILOSOPHY.
IN this chapter I propose to examine the philosophic
value of three arguments which may be called,
respectively, the Argument from general consent,
the Argument from success in practice, and the
Argument from " common sense."
These arguments are not, perhaps, as a general
rule, put forward as final and conclusive grounds of
belief by writers having much pretension to philo
sophic insight ; but they fill so important a place
among the reasons by which men are, as a matter of
fact, convinced, they constitute such a large part of
actual popular philosophy, that they require some
notice in this essay.
It is not necessary to remind the reader of a
truth which has been already stated, that in discuss
ing them no attempt can legitimately be made to
demonstrate their insufficiency to furnish a basis of
philosophic certitude. Neither this attribute, nor its
converse can, from the nature of things, be demon
strated of any argument whatever. It is as impos
sible to prove that a belief is not to be accepted as
CHAP, vii.] POPULAR PHILOSOPHIC ARGUMENTS. 139
one of the ultimate data of knowledge, as to prove
that it is to be so accepted. This is a point the
decision of which must in all cases be left to
each man s individual judgment ; and the duty of
the philosopher can go no further than to make
the decision as easy as possible, and to see that it
is really given on the main question at issue, and, in
the first instance at least, on that alone. If the
verdict be given in the affirmative, and the belief in
question is pronounced true and also ultimate, then
it will be necessary, in the second place, to enquire
how much ground it covers ; i.e., what conclusions
we may draw from it, and what proportion these
conclusions bear to the total number of beliefs we
desire to establish.
In conformity with this plan, let us discuss in the
first place that particular argument from authority
which I have called the Argument from general
consent/ It will be admitted, I suppose, at once,
that any one who regards the general consent of
mankind as a final ground of belief must hold, ist,
that some of his particular beliefs either are, or
may be deduced from, propositions assented to by
the generality of mankind ; and, 2nd, that propo
sitions assented to by the generality of mankind are
true.
Now with regard to the first of these positions.
I would ask any one who holds it, whether he is
immediately convinced of the fact that mankind
140 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
assent generally to any given proposition, or whether
he arrives at that conviction by a process of reason
ing ? If, as is more than probable, he adopts the
latter alternative, by so doing he admits, at all events,
that he believes some propositions which are not
proved by general consent all those, namely, which
are required to establish the fact that this general
consent exists. These, it is to be presumed, are
of the same general character as those which are
required to establish any other historical fact, and
consist in the first place of evidence, oral and docu
mentary, and in the second place, of those general
principles which, as the reader is already aware, are
required before any general induction can be based
on these or any other particulars. Before, therefore,
any use can be made of the fact (if fact it be) that
propositions assented to by the generality of man
kind are true, we must both believe a large number
of statements because they are assented to, not by
the generality, but by a very small fraction of man
kind, and also accept a large number of the very
propositions for which we most desire to obtain
proof, and in favour of which it is thought that the
argument from general consent may legitimately
be invoked.
So much for what, in formal logic, is called the
minor premiss of the argument under discussion.
Let us now turn to the major premiss/ which, as
has already been stated, would run in this way :
CHAP. VIL] POPULAR PHILOSOPHIC ARGUMENTS. 141
What mankind have generally assented to, is
true.
Is this an ultimate proposition one which we
accept as neither susceptible of proof, nor as requir
ing proof ? If any reader is in doubt as to the true
reply which should be given to this enquiry, the
answer which he feels disposed to make to the
following question may, perhaps, help him to a deci
sion. Does he regard the argument from general
consent as an example, and a specially perfect ex
ample, of the ordinary argument from testimony ?
If he does, and I think he probably will, then the
proposition we are discussing * is not ultimate. We
are commonly told, and when properly understood
the assertion is perfectly correct, that we accept the
greater number of our beliefs on the faith of testi
mony. But by this is not meant, or ought not to
be meant, that the real ground of accepting an asser
tion is the fact that it is asserted. The real ground
is, or should be, the belief that our informant or in
formants probably know the truth and are probably
willing to communicate it. And this belief itself is
one which all would allow required evidence, and
could not therefore be considered ultimate.
Now I imagine that most people will, on reflec
tion, admit that this is true, not only when we are
dealing with the opinion of this or that individual,
or body of individuals, but also when we are dealing
with the united testimony of mankind. In other
i 4 2 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
words, they will admit, i st, that the argument from
general consent is merely an instance of the ordi
nary arguments from testimony, and, 2nd, that the
ordinary arguments from testimony depend on some
thing beyond the fact that certain opinions have
been stated, and require us also to be assured, that
the persons stating them were truthful and well
informed.
This amounts, of course, to an admission that
the proposition we are discussing is not an ultimate
one. Strictly speaking, therefore, we might consider
the discussion at an end. But before leaving the
subject, it may be worth enquiring whether it is
nearly ultimate i.e., whether, without tracing the
thread of inference much further back, we can readily
find some satisfactory axiom on which to rest it.
Have we then any reason to believe that mankind,
as a whole, or any section of them, are well informed
(I will not dispute their truthfulness) respecting the
larger postulates of science ? With regard to man
kind as a whole, I can only imagine two reasons
being given for putting confidence in their opinion
on such a subject. The first is, that a belief gene
rally held for ages must in all probability be in har
mony with the experience of those who hold it
must succeed, that is, * in practice ; the other is,
that the universality of an opinion is a proof that
it results from the normal working of the human
mind ; in other words, is established by common
CHAP. VIL] POPULAR PHILOSOPHIC ARGUMENTS. 143
sense, according to one meaning of that ambiguous
expression. As these arguments, however, form
part of the main subject-matter of this chapter, and
will be separately discussed in their proper place, I
may for the present ignore them. It remains, there
fore, only to consider whether a special reason exists
for reposing confidence in the opinion of some par
ticular section of mankind on these subjects ; in
other words, whether there is any body of men who
hold a position towards philosophy at all correspond
ing to that which experts are supposed to hold
towards science, or Churches and Popes towards
theology.
The only persons, I suppose, who have any
claim to an authority of this kind in philosophy, are
philosophers ; and if they had all agreed in their
conclusions, and had forborne to make public the
various lines of speculation by which they arrived
at them, it might have been difficult, perhaps, pre
cisely to estimate the value of their pretensions.
As, however, they have not fulfilled the second of
these conditions, we are compelled to judge each
man by his arguments, and are so altogether carried
out of the region of authority ; and as they have
not fulfilled the first, we should, if reduced to be
lieving only what they agreed to recommend, be left
without a philosophic creed at all. As is remarked 1
with great force and point by Sir James Stephen,
1 Xinctccnth Century, April, 1877, p. 290.
144 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
1 the bare names of Spinoza, Leibnitz, Kant, Hegel,
Descartes, Pascal, Bossuet, Voltaire, Comte, Hobbes,
Locke, Berkeley, Hume, Paley, Mill, are quite enough
to show how much the deepest thought, the most
brilliant talents, the most pious feeling, the shrewdest
practical sagacity, the most earnest and scrupulous
conscientiousness have contributed to a practical
agreement on this subject. Sir James Stephen is
here talking, I ought to mention, of the founda
tions of theology ; but the remark, with one slight
omission, is at least as appropriate to the foundation
of science, with which alone I am here concerned.
To sum up. The minor premiss of the argu
ment from general consent (and the same is true
of all arguments from authority) cannot be proved
without assuming many, if not all, of those scientific
postulates, which it is the business of that argument
to prove. The major premiss, on the other hand,
of the argument cannot, any more than the major
premiss of any other argument from authority, be
regarded as an ultimate belief ; and (the case of
experts being excluded) if we ask what proof can be
given of it, we are reduced either to the argument
from success in practice/ or to the argument from
common sense.
I turn, therefore, to the first of these about
which a very few words will suffice.
The * Argument from success in practice is no
thing more than an appeal from the scepticism of theory
CHAP. VIL] POPULAR PHILOSOPHIC ARGUMENTS. 145
to the faith which is born of experience. You
assert/ it says, that no logical proof of ordinary
opinions can be given, and that neither common
sense nor universal consent can supply a basis of
philosophical certitude. Grant that this is so ; it by
no means necessarily follows that men ought to give
up on a point of theory, or through some over-
subtlety of speculation, beliefs which work admir
ably in practice. However ingenious may be your
doubts, after all experience proves that they have no
substantial foundation ; nor is it any use to say that
the uniformity of nature, or any other great prin
ciple, is not proved to be true, when every hour of
our lives shows that at all events it is true enough
for all practical purposes.
That men ought not to give up on speculative
grounds the belief in the uniformity of nature, or
any other great principle, I hold, as the reader will
see if his patience lasts till the end of the volume,
with as much persistence as any man. But I must
altogether take exception to the statement which is the
central point of the argument just stated, namely, that
the fact that these principles work in practice is any
ground for believing them to be even approximately
true. This is in reality an example of the illegiti
mate extension of a perfectly legitimate argument.
Given certain laws of nature given that there is a
fixed plan according to which phenomena occur, and
which we are capable of discovering, it is un-
L
i 4 6 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
doubtedly true that the fact that a certain theory
works in practice, i.e., agrees, so far as our experi
ence goes, with the real order of things, is a ground
for putting confidence in it for the future ; how much
confidence it is the business of the Inductive
Logician to tell us. But the earlier chapters of this
essay have been written in vain if the reader re
quires to be told that experience is altogether in
capable of establishing the truth even the probable
truth of these initial assumptions. It cannot prove
the wisdom of a provisional belief in them, simply
because it can prove nothing about them at all. Its
oracles are not so much ambiguous in their import,
as altogether dumb ; and certainly give no reason
able encouragement to the compromise (which, how
ever, I myself believe in) between theoretical
scepticism and practical faith.
It is obvious indeed that to found such a com
promise on the teaching of experience is a proceed
ing which, if the reasoning of the preceding chapters
be sound, involves a logical contradiction. Ex
perience is one of the chief idols which scepticism
attacks ; to admit, therefore, the accuracy of the
sceptical argument, but to add that experience de
monstrates that in practice it may be neglected, is
to say in the same breath that the sceptical reasoning
is, and that it is not, sound. If scepticism proves
anything, it proves that experience proves nothing.
Similar considerations show that no process of
CHAP, vii.] POPULAR PHILOSOPHIC ARGUMENTS. 147
verification can produce or add to philosophic certi
tude. Against the practical use and necessity of
verification I have not a word to say. It must
always remain one of the most important instruments
for determining the laws of nature, granting that by
any known method the determination of the laws of
nature is possible. But it is a mistake to suppose
that there is any philosophic distinction between
founding a belief on experience and founding a belief
on experience plus verification. Into this mistake,
I cannot help thinking that Mr. G. H. Lewes has
fallen in his Problems of Life and Mind. He seems
to imagine that because knowledge of what he
calls the super-sensible, which is not derived from
experience, differs from knowledge of the * sensible
and the * extra-sensible, which is derived from
experience, in being incapable of verification, that
therefore it is less worthy of belief. Whether
a knowledge of the super-sensible, i.e., theology
and metaphysics, really rests on a less substantial
basis than science, as Mr. Lewes contends, I will
not argue here ; but at all events the difference does
not depend on the fact that the theories of the one
CAN, and of the other cannot, be verified, since veri
fication is not in reality a separate or distinct kind of
proof. It is merely the name given to an observation
or experiment which, instead of suggesting a new
theory, supports one already framed. It does not
in any essential particular differ from other em-
L 2
i 4 8 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
pirical grounds of belief. Philosophically speaking,
it must stand with them or fall with them, nor can it
afford any independent evidence for a system of
which it is itself an integral part.
I now come to the Argument from common
sense/ which differs from the two arguments that have
just been discussed in the fact that it constitutes,
nominally at least, an essential part of an actual philo
sophic system, and has been explicitly advanced as
furnishing a sufficiently solid basis for belief, not
merely by the vulgar, but by thinkers of influence
and reputation. Unfortunately, however, though
these thinkers have added, by the sanction of their
authority, to the dignity and importance of the term
common sense, this has not been accompanied by
any increased accuracy or clearness in its definition.
In their use of the expression they have not always
been in agreement with themselves, with each other,
or with the unphilosophic majority : though, as it
is only with the opinions of the latter that we are
here concerned, this is not a subject which at this
moment need detain us.
Now when, in ordinary discussion, a belief is
defended on the ground that it is in accordance with
common sense, what is frequently intended to be
conveyed by the argument I imagine to be some
thing of this sort : The belief in question may not
be exactly defensible on rational grounds, we admit
that we cannot satisfactorily support it by reasoning
CHAP, vii.] POPULAR PHILOSOPHIC ARGUMENTS. 149
nevertheless practically all men must assent to it,
and all men do assent to it, and there is nothing
more to be said about the matter/ I have no com
plaint whatever to make against any one who takes
up this position, provided it be understood exactly
what the position is. It is not an argument in
favour of a belief : it is a confession that no such
argument can be found, and an assertion that we
must do without one. It is not a philosophy,
either of common sense or anything else ; it is rather
a negation of all philosophy. And therefore it is
that, directly any attempt is made to raise what is
a mere dogmatic assertion to the dignity of a philo
sophical reason, it is found necessary to buttress it
up by various supplementary principles, which, as
they are not always clearly distinguished from the
original ground on which assent was demanded, are
apt to introduce the strangest confusion into every
part of the subject. This necessity of adding sup
port to common sense pure and simple, as I have
just described it, shows itself in various ways in
ordinary quasi-philosophical discussion. Ask any
man why he believes the dictates of common sense,
and he is very likely to say that he does so because
everybody else does so (which is the * argument
from general consent ), or that he does so because
he and mankind in general find them answer which
is the ( argument from success in practice. Though
if, on some other occasion, he is asked why he puts
150 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
confidence in these two latter arguments, it must be
admitted that he is very likely to say that he does
so because they are recommended to him by his
common sense.
But there is another argument sometimes used
to eke out the bare assertion that proof must be fore
gone, which is so important that it may be doubted
whether it does not better deserve the title of the
argument from common sense ; more especially as it
really is an argument (though not a very good one),
which the other is not. It may be stated somewhat
in this way : Human intelligence, like any other
machine, may work rightly or wrongly. It may do
its proper and normal work, or it may do something
altogether different and abnormal. In the former
case we shall obtain from it truth ; in the latter,
error. In order, therefore, to get at the truth, we
have only to observe what an intelligence working
normally turns out, in other words what common
sense naturally believes, and to put our faith in that/
But then the question arises What is an intel
ligence working normally ?
It is not enough to say that it is an intelligence
working in such a way as to perceive the truth, for,
when asked what was the truth, we could merely
reply that it was that which an intelligence working
normally perceived to be true, and when asked what
an intelligence working normally was, that it was an
intelligence which perceived the truth a pair of
CHAP. VIL] POPULAR PHILOSOPHIC ARGUMENTS. 151
statements which, taken by themselves, would not
bring us much nearer to the discovery of a philo
sophy. Nor is it of any use to say that a normal
intelligence is one which obeys natural laws ; not
only because, if science is to be believed, every intel
ligence, sane or insane, does that, but because we
should then be in the singular position of maintain
ing that we know what are natural laws by means of
an intelligence in whose judgment we had confidence
because it was governed by natural law. Nor yet is
it possible to say that the question of what is normal
and therefore (indirectly) of what is true, can be
decided by majorities however large : to do so would
be to revert to the * argument from general consent/
which has been already disposed of. If anything is
to be made of this principle, it can only be by supple
menting it in some form or other by the idea of
design. We must either presuppose a Creator who
constructs our intelligences in such a manner that
on the whole what they incline to believe is true,
or else we must adopt the modern substitute for a
Creator, and suppose that there is some process by
which right-thinking intelligences tend to multiply
and wrong-thinking ones to die out. On either of
these suppositions, it is undoubtedly the fact that
there is a considerable probability that what all men
practically agree in believing is worthy of belief : but
then, not to speak of the difficulty already dwelt on
of showing, without a petitio principii, what it is that
152 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
all men agree in believing, the question still remains,
what reason have we for thinking that either of these
suppositions is true ? Nobody has as yet, so far as
I know, maintained that the theory of natural selec
tion is self-evident ; and though the same cannot
absolutely be said of Theism, yet the common
opinion seems to be that it is desirable to have, if
possible, some kind of proof for the existence of
a God. In any case, as mankind in general are not
more disposed to believe the fundamental principle
of Theology than they are to believe the funda
mental principles of Science, it is absurd without
further evidence to adduce the first in support of the
second.
Design, therefore, whether Theistic or atheistic,
whether depending on an intelligent Creator or
the blind operation of natural selection, requires
proof. And what kind of proof is possible ? I
have never heard of any, nor can I imagine any,
which does not depend on those very principles
for which proof is required ; and in support of
which the hypothesis of a normal intelligence con
trived by design was adduced. The circle, there
fore, in which the argument turns is evident. We
are required to believe in certain propositions be
cause they are believed in by a normal intelligence :
we are required to believe in the existence and testi
mony of a normal intelligence because intelligence is
the product of design or of something equivalent to
CHAP, vii.] NATURAL PHILOSOPHIC ARGUMENTS. 153
design : and we are required to believe in design
because of certain facts which can only be established
if the propositions we originally set out to prove are
true !
Of the two meanings then, which, so far as I can
judge, may be attributed to the argument from
common sense as it is ordinarily used, the first is not
so much an answer to scepticism as an admission
that no answer is forthcoming ; while the second
ceases to be effective as soon as the various propo
sitions which compose it are brought into clear
relief, it is plausible only so long as it is confused.
154 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART IT.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND OF
ORIGINAL BELIEFS.
THE reader may, perhaps, be surprised that hitherto
while discussing the argument from common sense,
I have not had occasion to do more than allude to
the philosophic version of that argument, large as is
the space which it occupies in the field of English
speculation. This omission, which will be imme
diately remedied, has been dictated by several
reasons ; among which is the circumstance that the
philosophy of common sense is, according to the
statement of its most eminent modern exponent, in
reality not founded upon common sense at all, but
upon consciousness : common sense being merely a
name given to the attitude of mind which receives
the verdicts of consciousness, or what are thought to
be such, in unhesitating faith. 1 It is needless to say,
that this is an attitude of mind to which many
1 This refers to Sir William Hamilton s opinions as expressed in
the Dissertation on Reid. In the Lectures, see Chap, xxxviii., he
gives (after his fashion), a different account of the matter. But what
ever version of his opinion be taken, it must, I believe, if clearly ex
pressed, be substantially identical either with the theory criticised at
the beginning of this chapter i.e., the theory of the Dissertation/ or
that dealt with at the end, which I attribute to Mr. Mill.
CHAP. VIIL] AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS, &c. 155
philosophers lay claim whose philosophy has nothing
to do with common sense ; and the reader therefore
may naturally expect that the ensuing controversy
will mainly turn, not on whether we ought to trust
consciousness, but on what the consciousness is
which we ought to trust. This statement, however,
though perhaps it fairly enough describes the
character of Mr. Mill s polemic against Hamilton,
does not precisely indicate the point of view from
which the question is approached in the sequel.
Demonstration/ says Sir William Hamilton, if
proof be possible, behoves to repose at last on propo
sitions which, carrying their own evidence, necessitate
their own admission. 1 Nothing can be truer. This
is the fundamental doctrine on which this essay rests,
and which has been repeated in the course of it even
to weariness. But surely it is a strange assertion
with which to introduce a discussion on the grounds
we have for believing those propositions which
carry their own evidence. If they carry their own
evidence, if they necessitate their own admission,
what can be the use of introducing a deus ex
mac hind in the shape of consciousness in order to
recommend them ? The reason is not far to seek.
There are, indeed, if knowledge is possible, beliefs
which lie at the root of all knowledge, which carry
their own evidence and * necessitate their own ad
mission ; but there are others which no doubt every
1 Dissertation on Reid, p. 742.
156 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
one would wish to have proved, but for which unfor
tunately no proof is readily forthcoming. These two
classes agree in nothing but the single fact, that
for neither of them can any reason be given ; while
they differ in the somewhat important peculiarity that
whereas the self-evident do not require proof, the be
liefs of common sense (as we might call the second
class) cannot obtain it. The device, which, in this
difficulty, occurred to Sir William Hamilton, was
partially to amalgamate the two sorts of belief by
inventing an authority which he called by the time-
honoured name of consciousness, which should
testify to both of them, 1 not indeed, as he admits, in
precisely the same way, or to precisely the same
degree, still sufficiently in the second case, as well as
in the first, to require our assent.
To my thinking, this idea of a faculty within the
mind, whether called conscience, consciousness, or
common sense, inducing the mind by the mere
weight of its authority to accept certain propositions,
is one of the most singular fictions which has ever
appeared, even in metaphysics. It is a fiction, more
over, which is particularly unfortunate from the fact,
that, in all cases where it is not superfluous, it is
misleading. In the case of propositions which have
other evidence, it is clearly superfluous ; in the case
of propositions having no other evidence but which
are certain in themselves, it is also superfluous ;
1 P. 744-
CHAP, viii.] AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS, &c. 157
while in the case of propositions which have neither
external evidence nor internal certainty, it is mislead
ing, since it can, as I shall presently show, only
simulate the appearance of an independent and
original ground of belief.
I may be told, indeed, that the consciousness
which Sir William Hamilton and many other philo
sophers set up as the final arbiter of truth is no
separate faculty within the mind, but is co-extensive
with the mind itself. If this were so, their theory
might be much more tenable psychologically, but it
would be much less tenable philosophically, than
it was before. They would be guiltless of founding
their philosophy on an imaginary faculty ; but they
would, on the other hand, be deprived of any
single and supreme authority on which to found
it at all. It may be readily admitted that, with
out doing violence to established usage, consciousness
might be used as a general name for mental pheno
mena, or our apprehension of them ; but in that
case it ought not to be regarded, any more than
other general names, as denoting anything separate
and distinct from the several particulars it describes.
Though, doubtless, the I in relation to which all
mental phenomena are apprehended is a unity, yet
every such phenomenon is distinct from every other,
and consciousness, if it be used as a general term for
describing these phenomena, is a unity only in the
sense of being one name which belongs to a great
158 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
many things, and in this sense it is evident that it
cannot be regarded as a single authority.
This is equally true if consciousness is taken to
be, as it might perhaps be maintained that Sir
William Hamilton in this connection intends it to be,
a general name for our acts of intuitive judgment.
This use of the word certainly excludes the notion
of consciousness being set up as a kind of separate
faculty, but then it also excludes the idea of con
sciousness testifying to any thing. Either there is no
criterion for the truth of intuitive judgments, in which
case consciousness cannot be that criterion ; or there
is a criterion, in which case it must be something
more than a general name by which those judgments
are described. In the first case, 1 much of Sir William
Hamilton s language must be regarded as metaphor
ical, and some of it as erroneous ; in the second case,
it would seem that he stands committed to a
doctrine (which, I believe, he really held), according
to which consciousness is regarded as a kind of
judge whose veracity and whose competence are
equally above suspicion.
Now, it is evident that a theory of this sort, by
which consciousness is raised to a position in philo
sophy similar to that which conscience occupies in
popular morality this telling us what we ought to
do, just as that tells us what we ought to believe
cannot be proclaimed without immediately provok-
1 Cf. Lectures, p. 5.
CHAP. VIIL] AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS, &c. 159
ing three questions : First, Does such an authority
exist ? Second, Why ought we to believe it ?
Third, What does it tell us to believe ? I waive the
first of these questions, though it raises points of
great interest about which much might be said, and
I pass on to the second, Why ought we to believe
it ? Sir William Hamilton is in no way embarrassed
for an answer, indeed, in the Dissertation he gives
no less than five, of which the following is a list :
1. Consciousness ought to be presumed to be
true till it is proved to be false. 1
2. Some of the data of consciousness cannot be
doubted, because the doubt would annihilate itself. 2
3. The data of consciousness have the negative
proof of consistency, i.e., so far as at present appears
they have never been proved inconsistent with each
other. 3
4. If they are untrue, then we must have been
deliberately deceived by a perfidious Creator. 4
5. To doubt consciousness involves a contra
diction. 5
With regard to the first of these proofs, it is only
necessary to say that some more solid foundation for
a creed is required than that the rules of debate,
according to Sir William Hamilton s interpretation
of them, throw the burden of proof on the objector.
The second proof is not strictly speaking a proof
1 Pp. 743, 745- 2 P - 744- 3 P. 745.
4 Pp. 743, 745- 5 R 754-
160 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
that the authority of consciousness is to be trusted ;
it is rather, in so far as it is sound, an assertion that
in some cases that authority is not required ; that
certain of its utterances are intrinsically certain.
The third proof, like the first, is of too negative
a character to make it worth while discussing it at
any length : at the best, it only removes a hypo
thetical objection.
The fourth proof has been, I imagine, sufficiently
dealt with in the remarks made above in the course of
the discussion on the ordinary view of the argument
from common sense. 1 Some additional observations
will be found in Mill s ( Examination, p. 164.
The fifth argument has the peculiarity of not
only being intrinsically unsound, but of being so on
the evidence of Sir William Hamilton himself, given
a few pages previously. On p. 754 he asserts that
to doubt the truth of consciousness when it testifies
to what he elsewhere calls a fact beyond its own
ideal existence, is tantamount to believing that the
last ground of all belief is not to be believed, which
is self-contradictory! While, on p. 744, he assures
us truly enough that doubt does not in this case
. . . refute itself. // is not suicidal by self -contra
diction If self-contradiction is suicidal, the vitality
of Sir William Hamilton s opinions on this par
ticular point can hardly be such as to make any
lengthened discussion of them necessary. 2
\ See ante, p. 151. 2 Vide Mill s Examination of Hamilton, p. 158.
CHAP, viii.] AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS, &c. 161
These proofs, it will be recollected, are proofs
at the second remove of judgments which, though
they were originally pronounced to carry their own
evidence and to necessitate their own admission,
are many of them, in reality, open to doubt. We
are first called upon to believe these truths on the
authority of consciousness : and we are now called
upon to believe the authority of consciousness on
the strength of the five somewhat inadequate reasons.
But now the question arises, By what means are
we to discover the judgments to which conscious
ness certifies ? Instead, however, of answering this
question, Sir William Hamilton answers quite
another one, namely, What are the marks by which
we may discover those judgments which are original ?
Whence, it would appear, that he considers that all
deliverances of consciousness are original judgments,
and that all original judgments are deliverances of
consciousness. Before examining what grounds he
may have for such an opinion, I must say one word
on the meaning of the word original, round which
much confusion has arisen in connection with this
subject in the writings of more than one author.
The word original, when applied to a belief or
judgment, may be legitimately used in two senses,
which are perfectly distinct, though they are not
always distinguished, It may mean either that
which stands first in order of logic, that which is a
premiss, but not a conclusion, or that which stands
M
i6 2 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
first in order of time, that which (to put it more
strictly), in the chain of phenomena governed by
psychological laws, may be a cause, but is not a
product. When it is said that all proof must finally
rest on original propositions which are not themselves
proved, the term is used in its first meaning : when
it is said that necessity is a criterion which will
enable us to distinguish an original datum of intelli
gence from a result of generalisation and custom/ 1
it is used in its second meaning. Mr. Mill, as will
appear directly, habitually uses it in the second sense,
and seemed to think that Hamilton did the same.
In this, I think, he was mistaken. Hamilton used it,
I believe, in both senses (though without distinguish
ing between them), and, on the whole, more fre
quently in the first sense than in the second.
On what grounds then (to return to our
argument) does Sir William Hamilton identify our
original judgments (according to either definition of
the word original ) with the deliverances of conscious
ness ? He gives no reason himself; and as I know
nothing but what can be gathered from his writings
respecting the nature of that internal authority, not
even the fact of its existence, I am unable to supply
any. But this omission, it is evident, destroys the
value of the whole argument from common sense.
Grant that consciousness is shown to be trustworthy
by the five arguments, and that original judgments
1 Cf, Hamilton s Lectures, pp. 268, 270.
CHAP. viii. J AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS, &c. 163
may be recognised by the four marks 1 enumerated
by Sir William Hamilton, how are we advanced,
unless we know that the original judgments are
identical with those which are certified by conscious
ness ? Perhaps I shall be told that their identity
follows from the definition of the terms employed-
that original judgments and deliverances of con
sciousness must be the same thing, because the two
expressions mean the same thing ; or to put it tech
nically, that their denotation cannot be different since
their ^-notation is identical. If this really be so,
it is plain that Sir William Hamilton used one or
other of the terms consciousness and original
in an altogether different sense from that which I
have supposed. If we are to identify in meaning
1 deliverance of consciousness with what is properly
an original judgment, then consciousness cannot be
an authoritative faculty ; if, on the other hand, we
are to identify original judgment with judgment
delivered by authority, then original judgment
must signify something different from either first in
logic, or first in causation.
On the first of these suppositions, by which
consciousness is dethroned from its dignity, and
serves merely to furnish a general name for certain
of our convictions (those namely which are original),
I wish to know what is meant by such an assertion
as this that consciousness assures us of, or gives
Dissertation, p. 754.
M 2
164 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
testimony to, its own existence, and also to some
thing beyond its own existence? 1 If this is not
language gratuitously metaphorical, it clearly implies
that consciousness is an authority which can give
us two kinds of informatien ; information, namely,
about itself, which Hamilton says we cannot doubt,
and information about something else, which he tells
us we can doubt. What, again, is meant by telling
us that the credibility of consciousness must be
determined by the same maxims as the credibility of
any other witness 2 if consciousness be a mere
fictitious unity ? And, finally, what plausibility
remains in the reasons by which Hamilton tries to
persuade us that consciousness is veracious ? If
consciousness be an authority implanted in us for
our guidance, there may be some reason (on the
Theistic hypothesis of the universe) for supposing
that it is inconsistent with the Divine veracity that
it should be otherwise than trustworthy. But what
shadow of reason can there be for making the Deity
specially responsible for certain beliefs solely because
they do not happen to be produced by known
psychological laws, or because no other reason for
accepting them happens to be forthcoming ? And
why are such laws to be presumed true till they are
proved to be false, like the utterances of a respect
able witness who has never been detected in an
untruth ? These reasons are bad if the common
1 Cf. Dissertation, p. 745. 2 p. 749.
CHAP. VIIL] AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS, &c. 165
sense philosophy is founded upon the existence of
a single subjective authority ; but if it is not so
founded, they cease, I think, even to be specious.
The difficulties on the opposite view of Hamil
ton s meaning are perhaps not less serious. He
never scruples to talk of fundamental beliefs, 1
primary beliefs, 2 original bases of knowledge, 3
original (as opposed to derivation) convictions, 4 &c.,
&c., when an argument founded solely upon the
authority of consciousness would require him to
talk of the deliverance of consciousness. And it
is hardly conceivable that he should so far ignore
the proper use of language as to employ all these
terms, every one of which naturally implies origin
ality in one of its two legitimate meanings, as merely
signifying that which emanates from consciousness
regarded as a subjective authority.
I believe, then, that in his exposition of the
common sense philosophy there is an ambiguity ; but
I further hold that this ambiguity is essential to the
plausibility of that celebrated system, otherwise I
should not have so long detained the reader over
the matter. The problem that Sir William Hamil
ton desired to solve was a perfectly legitimate
one. He found certain beliefs, those respecting
the existence of our actual conscious state, which no
sceptic had questioned. He found others whose
1 P. 743- P. 74?.
3 P. 743- 4 P. 754-
1 66 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
truth it was scarcely less desirable to raise beyond
suspicion, which scepticism had made, at least
theoretically doubtful. What was to be done ? It
seemed as impossible to find anything like a reason
for these convictions as it was to give them up
because no reason was forthcoming. The Kantian
device for getting over the difficulty never seems to
have been understood by him ; merely to say that
the beliefs were innate was out of fashion since
Locke ; nothing therefore was left but the scheme
which I have just been considering. Ask a common
sense philosopher of the Hamiltonian school what
he believes, and he tells you that he believes all
the original convictions of mankind ; ask him why
he believes them, and he tells you that it is be
cause they are deliverances of consciousness. It
is because some of the original convictions of
mankind are not, considered by themselves, beyond
the reach of scepticism, that the authority of con
sciousness is invoked in their behalf ; it is because
no mere reflection on the nature of that imaginary
faculty can make known what are its deliver
ances, that it is necessary to take for granted that
they are identical with the original convictions of
mankind. Some of the confusion and ambiguity
incident to Hamilton s exposition of the theory are
therefore really necessary to its plausibility. If you
improve his statement, you destroy his system
always supposing that his system is as I have repre-
CHAP, viii.] AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS, &c. 167
sented it. On this point, however, I admit I may
have been mistaken. Mr. Mill s version of it, which
is very different, may be, after all, the correct one ;
and to this, which, strange to say, he not only
attributed to Reid, to Hamilton, and to the philo
sophic world at large, but also fully accepted himself,
I now address myself.
To many the last sentence of the preceding para
graph will seem a paradox. That Mr. Mill, who
has criticised the Hamiltonian theories at length,
and who in the chapter devoted to the Common
Sense Philosophy/ has declared that he and
Hamilton differed on the most important question
about which philosophers were divided, that he
should really hold the philosophic opinions which
he attributes to his opponent, may easily excite sur
prise. It is, nevertheless, true. He agreed with
what he considered the philosophy of Hamilton to
be ; and where he differed from him was not on a
point of philosophy, but on a question whose interest,
which I admit to be great, is almost purely psycho
logical.
His theory was this. The premises 1 of all
knowledge consist of immediate and intuitive beliefs.
Some of these immediate and intuitive beliefs are
those we have concerning our own actual subjective
1 Examination of Hamilton, p. 151.
1 68 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
states : 1 but there are, or may be, others not less
worthy of credit, 2 which are described as * facts 3
which have been in consciousness from the begin
ning/ the original elements of mind/ 4 our original
beliefs. 5 5 That these judgments, if they exist, are
to be trusted he did not doubt himself, and he
seemed to think that no other philosopher could
have doubted. The real difficulty arises, according
to him, when the question comes to be discussed as
to what these original beliefs are : and it was on this
point that he thought the philosophic world was
divided into two great parties, according as they
pursued one or other of two methods, which he
names respectively the psychological and the intro
spective. The former of these consists in rejecting
from among the list of apparently original beliefs all
those to which the operation of the law of the
association of ideas or (I presume) any other psycho
logical law, would give an appearance of immediate-
ness or necessity : the latter, in accepting these
attributes as conclusive proof that the convictions to
which they belonged were part of the original furni
ture of the mind.
If the philosophic world really were divided
mainly on this point, the small progress that philo
sophy has made would cease to be surprising. For,
in reality, the question is one chiefly of psychological
1 P. 1.51. 2 P. 172. 3 P. 157.
4 P. 173- 5 P. 178.
CHAP. VIIL] AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS, &c. 169
interest, and has little direct bearing on philosophy
properly understood. As a matter of mere historic
fact, I should be unwilling to admit that the marks
by which original judgments are to be discerned
have been universally considered the chief battle
ground of philosophy, though this is not the occasion
on which to discuss the question. I am rather con
cerned with discovering whether Mr. Mill s view of
the foundation of knowledge, taken even in connec
tion with the psychological method, can furnish any
solid philosophical results.
But before doing so, or rather in order to do so
effectively, it is necessary to determine in what sense
he uses the word consciousness. As we have seen,
the ultimate beliefs which may or rather must be
accepted with confidence are, according to him, of
two kinds : the beliefs we have respecting our own
actual mental states, and the beliefs, if any, which
are part of the original furniture of the mind. He
frequently asserts that we hold both these kinds of
belief on the authority of consciousness. Are we
then to attribute to him the theory which I have
attributed to Sir William Hamilton the theory, I
mean, that consciousness is an internal witness which
must be distinguished like other witnesses from the
statements to which it certifies ? I think not. He
used the language in this respect of the common
sense philosophy, language sanctioned by general
philosophic tradition ; but as the fiction suggested
1 7 o A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
by it is not in any way necessary to his system, it
will be more convenient to assume that he did not
believe in it. The reason why an authoritative con
sciousness is a necessary part of the common sense
philosophy is, as I have explained above, because
the aim of that philosophy was to obtain proof for
certain judgments about which scepticism is possible.
Mr. Mill was of opinion that all original beliefs, if
such exist, stand on the same level of certainty as
our beliefs respecting our actual states of mind : and
about these he was of opinion that scepticism was
impossible. Now it is evidently superfluous to say
that we believe that we feel cold because conscious
ness tells us that we feel cold. Even if these two
statements asserted different things instead of, as
they really do, the same thing, it is obvious that
what in point of form appears here as the premiss
can add nothing to the certainty of what in point of
form appears here as the conclusion : and thus to
adduce the testimony of consciousness in favour of
anything which is as certain as our immediate
feelings must always be superfluous. Moreover,
it is not, according to Mr. Mill, consciousness whose
authority is thus indisputable, whatever occasional
phrases may imply to the contrary, but only con
sciousness in its pristine purity, 1 before its original
revelations have been overlaid : consciousness in its
developed, and therefore corrupted condition, being
1 P, 171.
CHAP, viii.] AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS, &c. 171
capable apparently of any amount of deception. So
that if we are to credit him with the independent
authority theory of consciousness, besides all the
other difficulties in the way of that theory which
have been, or might be, enumerated, he would have
to overcome the presumption which Sir William
Hamilton says 1 must lie against any witness de
tected in error \-falsus in uno.falsus in omnibus. If,
in addition to all these objections, it is recollected that
the theistic or teleological assumption, which really
lies at the root of the common sense philosophy, was
wholly foreign to Mr. Mills modes of thought, it
will be admitted, I think, that I am not illegitimately
improving the substance of his teaching if I venture
always to describe as original beliefs or judg
ments, what he occasionally calls the revelations
of consciousness, or the genuine or original de
liverances of consciousness.
The nature of his theory being thus determined,
let us next turn to the question of its value.
Could we try the experiment of the first con
sciousness in any infant, says Mr. Mill, 2 its first
reception of the impression we call external, what
ever was present in that first consciousness would be
the genuine testimony of consciousness" (i.e., would,
as I should say, be an original judgment}, and
would be as much entitled to credit, indeed there
would be as little possibility of discrediting it, as our
1 Dissertation on Reid, p. 746. 2 P. i?9-
172 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
sensations themselves. But we have no means of
now ascertaining by direct evidence whether we
were conscious of outward and external objects
when we first opened our eyes to the light. That
a belief or knowledge of such objects is in our
consciousness now whenever we use our eyes or
muscles, is no reason for concluding that it was
there from the beginning, until we have settled the
question whether it was brought in since. If any
mode can be pointed out in which within the com
pass of possibility it might have been brought in,
the hypothesis must be examined and disproved
before we are entitled to conclude that the convic
tion is an original deliverance of consciousness.
The proof that any of the alleged Universal Beliefs,
or Principles of Common Sense, are affirmations of
consciousness, supposes two things : that the beliefs
exist, and that there are no means by which they
could have been acquired.
From this very remarkable extract, which con
tains explicitly or implicitly the whole psychological
theory of ultimate beliefs I have just endeavoured to
explain, it is clear, as I before stated, that a belief
may be either of the highest conceivable certainty,
or of no certainty at all, according as it has or has
not been in consciousness from the beginning : i.e.,
according to whether pyschological laws have not
or have been concerned in its production. The
grounds, however, on which this very singular
CHAP. VIIL] AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS, &c. 173
doctrine is based are not so plain. Why are our
earliest beliefs elevated to this exceptional dignity ?
Why are we to regard infants as (at least potentially)
occupying the place in matters of reason which
Councils and Popes have claimed in matters of
faith ? And if infants are to be credited with this
unerring insight into the mysteries which have
puzzled philosophers, are we to deny the same gift
to the lower animals ? And if we are, why are we ?
These are some of the first questions which the
pyschological theory suggests ; but they are by no
means the only ones. Beliefs which have been the
product of pyschological laws association of ideas,
and so forth are, it appears, on a much lower level
of certainty than those which have not been so pro
duced. But why has the action of those pyschologi
cal laws so much more pernicious an effect upon their
products than the operation of any other laws ? Mr.
Mill and the thinkers of his school would be the last
persons to deny that the most original of all beliefs,
those which have been in consciousness since con-
ciousness was, are still produced by some laws. Why
are these laws so much more fortunate in their
operation than those which, by a conventional classi
fication, are regarded as specially mental, that we
may regard their results as having attained the cer
tainty which we call perfect/ 1 I cannot tell, and
neither Mr. Mill nor the great body of philosophers
1 P. 152.
174 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
which according to him shares his opinion on this
point, appear willing or able to do so.
Now let us turn for a moment from the consider
ation of how we know that beliefs which are original
are specially certain, to the question of how we come
to know in the first instance that they are original.
In their mode of dealing with this problem lay, in
Mr. Mill s opinion, the special glory of the school to
which he belonged. It consisted, he thought, in adapt
ing to pyschology the known and approved methods
of physical science, 1 and more particularly in bringing
to light the original elements of consciousness as
residual phenomena, by a previous study of the
modes of generation of the mental facts which are
not original. 2 Against this pyschological method/
when confined to pyschology, I have not a word to
say. I am perfectly ready to admit that it has all
the merits which may appertain to the known and
approved methods of physical science ; but what I
wish to point out is, that though it may give us a
pyschology, it can never give us a philosophy. In
the first place, the known and approved methods of
physical science unfortunately take for granted most
of the judgments which it is the pressing business of
philosophy to establish, and which therefore, it is
evident, cannot be proved by that method without
arguing in a circle. In the second place, even if
these scientific assumptions were established by some
1 P. 173- 2 Ibid,
CHAP. VIIL] AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS, &c. 175
other means, still no belief shown by this method to
be original can be ultimate for us, simply because
the fact is one that has to be shown. Grant that it
is original, and then, may be, there would be as
little possibility of discrediting it as our sensations
themselves ; but as we can never know that it was
original without a previous argument, the fact, if fact
it be, does not help us much nearer to the founda
tions of a creed. To Mr. Mill s hypothetical baby
no doubt its first impressions may supply a solid
ground of belief. But to us who have to arrive at a
knowledge of what these are by the laborious use
of the approved methods of physical science, this
circumstance is, philosophically speaking, of small
value, and can afford us but little consolation.
There seem, therefore, to be three fatal objec
tions to a philosophy founded upon the authority of
original beliefs. In the first place, there is no ground
for supposing that original beliefs are particularly
fitted to serve as the foundation of a creed ; in the
second place, there is no ground for supposing that
acquired beliefs are particularly unsuited for such a
purpose ; and, in the third place, it is impossible to
determine what beliefs are original and what are
acquired without assuming the truth of many pro
positions whose only evidence can on this theory be
that they are original.
I shall, perhaps, be told that though Mr. Mill
attaches in theory this absolute certitude to our
176 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
original beliefs, yet that in practice he supposed
himself to require as a foundation for his inferred
beliefs no immediate knowledge but that which the
mind has of its own states. I admit the fact, but I
deny that it is any defence. It relieves him, no
doubt, from the charge of practically committing the
logical error pointed out in my third objection, but
at the cost of falling into one of greater magnitude
still. He cannot be accused of founding his creed
on judgments proved by the psychological method
to be original, and therefore true, simply because
the psychological method, in his opinion, showed
that no judgments are original. His philosophy of
ultimate beliefs, therefore, was not only unsound, but
if sound it would have been useless. My complaint
against him, however, does not end there. That
the philosophy which he speculatively maintained
should be incapable of solving the problems "which
most press for solution is bad, but it is worse that
the philosophy to which he adhered in practice should
ignore the very existence of these problems. And
here I think Sir William Hamilton is greatly his
superior. The Common Sense Philosophy, whatever
be its shortcomings, and they are many, was at all
events constructed with a view to our actual necessi
ties. It recognised, in a more or less confused
manner, the fact that most of the judgments whose
truth we habitually assume are not beyond the reach
of scepticism ; that some sort of proof for them is
CHAP, viii.] AUTHORITY OF CONSCIOUSNESS, &c. 177
therefore required, and that none of the usual proofs
from experience are sound. The hypothesis of a
consciousness whose veracity is in some way in
volved in that of the Deity, and which shall give its
testimony in their favour, is not one perhaps very
well calculated to stand hostile criticism, but at any
rate, if true, it would go some way towards solving
the difficulty. To the psychological school, on the
other hand, it hardly seems to have occurred that
there was a difficulty to be solved. Their psycho
logy so overshadows their philosophy that when
they have once discovered to their satisfaction how
a thing came to be believed, they seem comparatively
indifferent as to the more important questions of how
far, and why, it ought to be believed. If only they
can apply the approved methods of physical science
to the discovery of the genesis of mental phenomena,
they take a very optimistic view of the difficulties
which attach to the proof of the principles on which
the legitimate application of the approved methods
must finally depend. One example of their easy
acceptance of insufficient proof I have already dis
cussed when I was dealing with the law of Universal
Causation. A still more remarkable case of ignoring
difficulties remains to be treated of in the criticism
which follows on the psychological theory of the
external world.
N
178 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
CHAPTER IX.
PSYCHOLOGICAL IDEALISM.
BERKELEIAN Idealism is of all speculative theories
concerning the external world the one which, per
haps, most quickly and easily commends itself to the
philosophic enquirer. The greater number of persons
who dabble in such subjects have been idealists at
one period of their lives if they have not remained
so ; and many more, who would not call themselves
idealists, are nevertheless of opinion that though the
existence of matter is a thing to be believed in, it
is not a thing which it is possible to prove. The
causes of this popularity are, no doubt, in part, the
extreme simplicity of the reasoning on which the
theory rests, in part its extreme plausibility, in part,
perhaps, the nature of the result which is commonly
thought to be speculatively interesting without being
practically inconvenient. For it has to be observed,
that the true idealist is not necessarily of opinion
that his system, properly understood, in any way
contradicts common sense. It destroys, no doubt, a
belief in substance ; but then substance is a meta
physical phantom conjured up by a vain philosophy :
CHAP, ix.] PSYCHOLOGICAL IDEALISM. 179
the Matter of ordinary life it supposes itself to leave
untouched. * That the things I see with my eyes
and touch with my hands do exist, really exist, I
make not the least question. The only thing whose
existence we deny is that which philosophers call
Matter, or corporeal substance. And in doing of
this there is no damage done to the rest of mankind,
who, I daresay, will never miss it. * I affirm, with
confidence, says Mr. Mill, that this conception
(i.e., the idealistic one) of matter includes the whole
meaning attached to it by the common world, apart
from philosophical and sometimes from theological,
theories. 2
But though idealist philosophers have said this,
the world has never believed them. Plain men have
continued to think that something more is in question
than a metaphysical invention, about which they
neither know nor care anything ; and that in losing
substance they would lose something essential to
their idea of the scheme of the universe.
This is an opinion which I also share ; and it is
to Idealism considered from this point of view, and
this point of view alone, that I wish to direct the
reader s attention in this chapter. There are, there
fore, at least, two important controversies connected
with this theory which I shall not discuss. I shall
not discuss either the real nature of the object of
1 Berkeley, Principles of Human Knowledge, Part i. 35.
2 Examination of Hamilton, p. 227.
N Z
i8o A DEFENCE OE PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
perception, which is what especially occupied Berke
ley, nor the psychological account of the origin of
our belief in matter, which is what especially
interested Mr. Mill. I am prepared, for the sake of
argument, to assume, with the former, that we know
and can know directly only our own ideas and sen
sations, 1 and with the latter that any belief in the
existence of an external reality which is neither a
sensation nor a possibility of sensation, is the product
of the laws of the association of ideas. There is also
a third subject which I shall absolve myself from
dealing with I mean the constructive side of Ber
keley s philosophy. As is well known, he replaced
the material world by the Divine Mind ; and found
in this the permanent substance which ordinary men
sought for in matter. But though this theory is as
good as many which have succeeded it, yet it does
not fulfil the conditions which limit the discussions
in this essay : it has had no appreciable influence on
the current of modern English speculation. I shall,
therefore, put this on one side, and shall confine my
criticisms to the Idealistic Theory, on what may be
called its negative or destructive side.
The thesis I wish to maintain is a very simple
one, and it is this : Received science cannot be true
if the idealistic account of the universe be accurate :
nor is the discrepancy between the two merely
verbal ; it is fundamental and essential, and can be
1 Berkeley usually describes them both as ideas.
CHAP, ix.] PSYCHOLOGICAL IDEALISM. 181
bridged over by no mere artifices of terminology.
That there is a verbal discrepancy requires, I imagine,
no proof. Natural science (of which alone I am here
speaking) assumes the independent existence of
matter in all its utterances. A theory which denies
this independent existence is undoubtedly therefore
in primd facie contradiction with Natural science ; and
the question we have to determine is, whether under
this superficial contradiction there is or is not a real
and substantial harmony. Now we must beware of
confounding with this question another with which it is
liable to be mixed up namely, whether Idealism is
or is not consistent with our ordinary experience.
If we admit the legitimacy of the ideal psychology
if we admit that objects as perceived maybe resolved
into ideas or sensations, there is no doubt that this
last question must be answered in the affirmative.
That is, we may suppose Idealism to be true without
being obliged to suppose that we should either see,
hear, or feel under any circumstances what we should
not see, hear, or feel if independent matter existed.
Supposing, therefore, that Science consisted in
nothing more than a series of propositions asserting
what, under given conditions, our experience would
be, there might be no fundamental discord between
it and Idealism. If, for example, as Berkeley de
clares, 1 the question whether the earth moves or
no, amounts in reality to no more than this to w r it,
1 Principles of Human Knowledge, 58.
182 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
" whether we have reason to conclude from what has
been observed by astronomers, that if we were placed
in such and such a position and distance both from
the earth and sun we should perceive the former to
move/ &c., no doubt astronomy and the theory
under discussion might easily be harmonised. But
in truth Science does much more than this. It tells
us not only what we should perceive if we were
rightly circumstanced to perceive it, but also how it
comes about that we should perceive that particular
thing and no other, and what it is that would hap
pen or has happened whether we or anybody else
were there to perceive it or not. It tells us that
perceiving organisms were evolved from a world
which was itself neither perceiving nor perceived, and
that processes take place within that world which,
like the elements of which it is composed, are too
subtle to be apprehended by sense, or even, in some
cases, to be represented in imagination. In short, it
asserts the existence of a vast machinery, composed
of that * inert, senseless, extended, solid, figured,
moveable substance existing without the mind, which
Berkeley declares l to be a contradiction in terms,
and which causes, among an infinite number of other
effects, our perception of itself.
If this be not in direct irreconcilable contradiction
with a theory which asserts the existence of no
causes besides spirits and no effects besides ideas,
1 Principles of Human Knowledge, 67.
CHAP, ix.] PSYCHOLOGICAL IDEALISM. 183
then such a thing as contradiction does not exist in
the world. But if (which I hardly think) any reader
is still unconvinced on this point, let him try to state
the doctrine of Evolution in ideal language with
out of course postulating the Deity, whom Berkeley
would have introduced to save the situation. The
attempt will, I think, leave no doubt on his mind
that Mr. Spencer is right when he declares that if
Idealism be true, Evolution (for Evolution we may
read Science] is a dream.
Perhaps it will be objected that in these remarks
I have only dealt with Psychological Idealism in the
form in which Berkeley left it ; and that I have not
done justice to it even in this shape, since I have
omitted to consider all the constructive part which,
though it has received little attention subsequently,
its originator considered essential to his scheme. I
am quite prepared to admit that there is some force
in these criticisms, and also that Berkeley s version
of the system is the less likely to be in harmony
with Science, from the fact that he seems to have
regarded the scientific hypothesis of his own
day the corpuscular philosophy and the me
chanical principles which have been applied to
accounting for phenomena, with a very lukewarm
approval. 1 Let us turn then to Mr. Mill, who
is above all things the philosopher of men of
science, and observe whether his statement of the
1 Principles of Human Knowledge, 50.
1 84 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
case is more agreeable to ordinary science than that
of his theological predecessor. At first sight there
seems a promise of reconciliation in his language, for
verbally at least, he recognises the existence of a
permanent something which may serve as a sub
stitute for matter. The external world which is
dealt with by natural science consisted, according to
Berkeley, in ideas. According to Mr. Mill it con
sists of sensations and permanent possibilities of sen
sation. 1 An object when it is perceived may be
resolved into sensations phis permanent possibilities
of sensation ; an object when it is not perceived may
be resolved into permanent possibilities of sensation
alone.
What sensations mean is tolerably plain, whether
the partial resolution of a perceived object into them
be legitimate or not. But what are possibilities of
sensation ? And in what sense can they be per
manent ? Mr. Mill habitually speaks of them as if
they could exist in the same sense in which positive
entities exist. But this surely is an entire delusion.
A possibility is nothing till it becomes an actuality.
It will be something, or it may be something at some
future time, but, until then, it is nothing. You may
verbally indeed give a kind of present being to a
future sensation by saying that the possibility of it
exists now. But there is no reality in nature corre
sponding to this phrase. A sensation must either be
1 Examination of Hamilton, p. 248.
CHAP. ix. PSYCHOLOGICAL IDEALISM. 185
or not be ; and if it is only a possibility, it certainly
is not. A universe therefore which consists of such
possibilities is a universe which for the present does
not exist at all ; it is a verbal fiction, and cannot
form the subject-matter of any science deserving the
name.
Mr. O Hanlon, whoso criticism on Mill, unfortu
nately, I only know from the note in Mill s Exami
nation, from which the following extract is taken,
states the difficulty in these terms : Your per
manent possibilities of sensation are, so long as they
are not felt, nothing actual. Yet you speak of change
taking place in them, and that independently of
our consciousness ; ! and it is evident, though this
Mr. O Hanlon does not add, that unless change
in something outside consciousness be possible,
science, as we know it, cannot exist. How does
Mr. Mill meet this objection ? He refers his
young antagonist generally to what is said on the
subject in the text ; from which, as far as I am
able to judge, the following quotation may be most
conveniently selected as containing the essence of
what Mr. Mill would have us understand to be
his answer. If body altogether is only conceived
as a power of exciting sensations, the action of one
body upon another is simply the modification by one
such power of the sensations excited by another ; or,
to use a different expression, the joint action of two
1 Examination of Hamilton, p. 251, note.
i86 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART ix.
powers of exciting sensations. It is easy for anyone
competent to such enquiries who will make the
attempt, to understand how one group of possi
bilities of sensation can be conceived as destroying
or modifying another such group/ Undoubtedly it
is easy to understand this, if by possibility of sen
sation is meant (as the first sentence in the above
extract would seem to show) power of exciting sen
sation. But if Mr. Mill meant this, he was not an
idealist, but a realist. He must have held that
besides sensations there were permanent powers of
producing sensations inaccurately described as per
manent possibilities of sensation which are to be
distinguished, if they are to be distinguished at all,
by very subtle differences from the substances of
certain metaphysicians. As, however, there can be
no doubt that Mr. Mill considered himself an idealist,
we must suppose that he adopted this realistic theory
only under the pressure of an immediate objection ;
and that in his ordinary moments he conceived that
the permanence of a possibility might satisfy the
requirements of Science since it was a permanence,
and the requirements of Idealism since it was only
the permanence of a possibility. Let us look a little
more into this matter.
If we say that a barrel of gunpowder constitutes
the permanent possibility of an explosion, what do
we mean ? We mean that in a barrel of gunpowder
we find a large number of the conditions of an explo-
CHAP. IX.
PSYCHOLOGICAL IDEALISM. 187
sion in a permanent form, and that the other con
ditions necessary to that effect may at any moment
be supplied. It is perfectly accurate to talk of a
permanent possibility of sensation in the same sense ;
as equivalent, that is, to a set of permanent causes of
sensation by which, when they are properly supple
mented by causes which are not permanent, but only
occasional, a sensation will actually be produced.
But though Science may be consistent with a belief in
a world composed of such possibilities, the teaching
of Idealism certainly is not.
Again, the permanence attributed to the possibi
lities of sensation might be a permanence not of the
conditions by which sensations are produced but-
of the laws which regulate their production. If we
conceive a being whose states of mind at successive
moments should occur strictly in accordance with law,
but with law acting only between his states of mind,
we might, perhaps, say (though the expression would
not be a happy one) that a given law constitutes a
permanent possibility of his having a particular
sensation. But a theory, which should admit the exist
ence of nothing permanent except in this sense, though
it would be entirely consistent with Idealism, would
unfortunately be altogether at variance with Science.
For any statement/ says Mr. Mill, 1 which can
be made concerning material phenomena in terms of
the Realistic theory, there is an equivalent meaning
1 Examination of Hamilton, p. 2^6.
1 88 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART u.
in terms of sensation and possibilities of sensation.
Let us see how this is. Here is a proposition which
may prove convenient for purposes of illustration :
The candle at which I am looking produces in me
certain sensations of light, colour, and shape. l Stated
in terms of the Psychological Theory this proposition
would run : The group of sensation and of perma
nent possibilities of sensation known as a candle pro
duce in me certain sensations of light, &c. Now the
candle, which is here asserted to be a cause, is, like
other perceived objects, constituted (on the Psycho
logical hypothesis) by two elements viz. sensations
and possibilities of sensation. Are both of these
necessary to produce the effect ? Certainly not.
One of them is the effect. The sensations which
the candle produces are part of the candle, What
produces the sensations must, therefore, be the other
part of the cause namely, the possibilities of sensa
tion. But the possibilities of sensation are, ipso facto,
not in my consciousness, and (to avoid side issues) we
may suppose them not to be in anybody else s either.
So that, though starting from a proposition professedly
idealistic in its terms, we are forced to conclude that
the cause of my sensation of colour, &c., is something
out of, and independent of consciousness !
This may be true, but, again, I must point out
that it is not Idealism. On the contrary, it is a kind
1 Of course I am not responsible for the psychology which renders
such an expression as sensation of shape permissible.
CHAP, ix.] PSYCHOLOGICAL IDEALISM. 189
of Transfigured Realism (as Mr. Spencer would
say), of a particularly absurd type. For we might
imagine a being so endowed that he could perceive
at one moment every quality of the candle, which
would in that case, it is evident, consist entirely of
sensations ; the possibilities of sensation being all con
verted into actualities. He might also perceive all
the physiological changes which are the necessary
antecedents of these sensations, and which would
thereby in the same way become sensations them
selves. Now it would clearly be erroneous to say of
such a being that the immediate causes of the sensa
tions which constitute his perception of the candle
were permanent possibilities of sensation (since by
hypothesis the possibilities are all converted into
actualities) ; and it would clearly be absurd to say that
these sensations were self caused ; and it would be
altogether impossible to say that they were not caused
at all. What fourth reply could be given on any
theory which was both idealistic and scientific I am
unable to imagine. So that we come to this final
result : that if we take a plain scientific proposition
asserting the action of external bodies, or what are
commonly thought to be such, on mind, we can, in
the first place, only express it in terms of possibilities
of sensation by attributing to these a realistic significa
tion ; and in the second place if, as we have a perfect
right to do, we conceive such possibilities of sensation
all converted into actualities, we cannot express the
proposition in terms of the psychological theory at all.
i 9 o A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART H.
But, the reader may, perhaps, be inclined to
say, these difficulties are just what might have been
expected. The various renderings of the original
proposition are all absurd, because that proposi
tion was an absurd one to start with. Extremely
absurd I admit, if Idealism be true ; but not at all
absurd, if Science be so. And that is just the point.
Science cannot get on for an hour unless it be allowed
to employ propositions of this kind, which assert the
action of some x upon the mind. Idealism, in the
hands of a true follower of Berkeley, would either
deny the existence of the x y or would identify it with
the Divine Spirit ; and in both cases would make
received Science impossible. Natural Realism again
would identify the x both with the immediate object
of perception and with independent and extended
matter, and, like all other realistic systems, would
present, at any rate, an appearance of harmony with
Scientific doctrine. But when we ask the Psycho
logical school how they deal with the x, we can
extract from their teaching nothing but confusion.
They give us to understand that they are idealists,
that in their opinion the world consists of nothing
besides sensations and possibilities of sensation ; and
we readily accept this as the true idealistic identifica
tion of the real with the felt. But on asking how
this identification is consistent with a science which
nominally at least postulates a world independent of
mind, we find that they are forced to convert their
CHAP, ix.] PSYCHOLOGICAL IDEALISM. 191
possibilities into objects which exist without being
perceived, which can act as causes, which can suffer
change, and which are therefore as little ideal as the
most vehement realist need, desire.
But how/ it may be asked, if there is this radical
discrepancy between Idealism and Science, happens
it that so many philosophers have accepted the first,
and yet have never cast speculative doubts upon the
second ? How do you account for the fact that
neither Berkeley nor Mill (to go no further) ever
detected a difficulty which, if it exists at all, is
sufficiently obvious ? One reason of this oversight I
take to be that Idealists have occupied themselves
more with showing that their particular system was
consistent with ordinary experience than that it was
consistent with the more remote conclusions of
Science. The sort of objection which they chiefly
anticipated, and with reason, was that of the persons
who thought that a disbelief in matter ought to
take the form of running up against posts or tumbling
into the water; and so much of this objection de
pends on a gross misconception, that the grain of
truth which lies hid in it is easily overlooked.
I have already pointed out two further reasons
which, in the case of Berkeley, go far towards
accounting for his insensibility to a difficulty with
which he several times formally professes to deal.
The first is, that his scientific beliefs were certainly
lukewarm, and probably heterodox ; the second is,
192 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
that his theology supplied the basis of a possible,
though not of any actual, science of phenomena, by
providing a permanent thinking substance in place
of the matter which he destroyed. In Mr. Mill s
case neither of these reasons hold good. His scien
tific faith was fervent and orthodox ; while it is
generally understood that his theological creed, what
ever may have been its precise nature, did not at all
events include a belief in an Infinite Mind who should
be the immediate cause of all our sensations.
Mr. Mill, however, had sources of error peculiar
to himself. As I stated in the last chapter, one of
the disturbing elements in his philosophy, which no
doubt largely affected his views on this particular
subject, was the overpowering interest he took in the
genesis of a belief to the exclusion of a thorough
examination into its truth. Thus the main part of
the space devoted (in his * Examination of Hamil
ton ) to the Psychological theory of the external
world is occupied, not with discussing the general
philosophic ground and bearings of Idealism, but
in showing how a belief in matter originally came
into existence. But, besides this more general cause
of error, there was another special to this question
which Mr. Mill should not have fallen into, since it
is one of a kind he was particularly fond of preaching
against I mean the error of supposing that because
there exists in language a name, that therefore there
must exist in Nature something corresponding to the
CHAP, ix.] PSYCHOLOGICAL IDEALISM. 193
name. Because it is allowable to speak of a per
manent possibility/ he permitted himself too easily
to think that a world consisting of possibilities of
sensation and these alone, could in any real sense be
permanent, or, as I should prefer to say, persistent.
That this is not so has been sufficiently shown, I
hope, in the preceding pages. It, therefore, only
remains for those who accept Idealism as the one
possible theory of the material world consistent with
Psychological analysis, to choose between the results
of Internal and those of External observation on
the one hand, or on the other boldly to adopt a creed
which is avowedly inconsistent with itself.
In the next two chapters I shall examine, so far
as it is necessary for my purpose, the philosophy of
a thinker, who though in a popular discourse he is
frequently associated with Mr. Mill on the points
with which I am concerned, resembles him but little
in his teaching.
194
A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
CHAPTER X.
THE TEST OF INCONCEIVABILITY.
MR. SPENCER S theory of the grounds of belief, like
that of Sir William Hamilton, is intimately bound up
with, and seems chiefly constructed with a view to
the proof of, the reality of the external world. For
the moment, however, I shall deal with it separately,
reserving till the next section any reflections which
may be suggested by the use he has put it to in
supporting the doctrine of what he calls, not inap
propriately, 4 Transfigured Realism.
Sir William Hamilton, as we have seen, accepts
his initial assumptions on the authority of Conscious
ness. Mr. Mill again expresses his readiness to
accept any belief which can be shown to have been
4 in Consciousness from the beginning ; though until
that (in his opinion apparently) improbable event
occurs, is content to base his creed on the immediate
knowledge the mind has of its own states ; and in
practice, therefore, is truly an empiricist. But Mr.
Spencer, though anxious that it should be understood
that he defends his doctrine in the interests of the
experience hypothesis, 1 can hardly be described as
1 Principles of Psychology, vol. ii. p. 407, note.
CHAP, x.] THE TEST OF INCONCEIVABILITY. 195
an empiricist in any but an esoteric signification of
the word ; since even for facts given in experience
he requires a warrant, which must be more certain
than they are, because it is the test by which their
certainty is recognised.
All propositions are to be accepted as unques
tionable whose negative is inconceivable. 1 Such, in
one sentence, is Mr. Spencer s doctrine ; but the
sentence, though apparently simple, is capable of
more than one interpretation, and points to more
than one possible system of philosophy. Inconceiv
able, to begin with, is commonly, though in my opinion
very improperly, used in two quite distinct senses.
It may mean either that which cannot be believed,
or that which cannot be imagined. Mr. Spencer 2
protests against the idea that he uses it in the first
or improper sense ; and, if I understand him rightly,
he habitually uses it in the second and correct one.
But as the point is somewhat important, I must be
permitted to give one or two of the quotations on
which this opinion is based.
An inconceivable proposition is one of which
the terms cannot by any effort be brought into con
sciousness in that relation which the proposition
asserts between them. 3 It is one of which the
subject and predicate cannot be united in the same
intuition. 4 And as an example, the two sides (of
1 Principles of Psychology, vol. ii. p. 392. 2 Ibid. p. 407.
3 P. 408. 4 Ibid.
O 2
196 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
a triangle) cannot be represented in consciousness as
becoming equal in their joint length to the third
side, without the representation of a triangle being
destroyed. These quotations, which might easily
be multiplied, would seem to make it perfectly clear
that when Mr. Spencer says a thing cannot be con
ceived, he means that it cannot be imagined or re
presented in the mind ; indeed the world imagine
is one which he actually uses in this connection. 1
On the other hand, it must be admitted that he
never 2 hesitates to use inconceivable and unthink
able as synonymes ; so that, if I interpret him rightly,
unthinkable and unimaginable must with him
be also synonymes, which is not in accordance with
the best philosophical usage. Again, he quotes,
in order to answer, the hackneyed instance of the
inconceivability of the antipodes as if he thought
that the antipodes had once been inconceivable in
his sense of the word. But it is certain, I appre
hend, that the antipodes were never unimaginable,
though they were, or are said to have been, incre
dible. The difficulty can scarcely have been to
represent men standing head downwards, though it
might have been to believe that, when so standing,
they would not fall off. 8 Mr. Spencer s use of the
1 Fortnightly Review, p. 544.
2 Principles of Psychology, vol. ii. p. 409.
3 Mr. Mill is not fortunate in his language on this point ; though I
am inclined to think he held the right view. See Exam, of Hamilton,
pp. 81, 86.
CHAP, x.] THE TEST OF INCONCEIVABILITY. 197
word inconceivable is not then, in spite of all his
explanations, perfectly unambiguous ; but neverthe
less we may say with certainty that the word with
him refers to some mental incapacity which (he
asserts) is not an incapacity of belief, and with a
high degree of probability, that it is an incapacity of
imagination or representation.
After this explanation, let us return to the
doctrine under discussion, which states, it will be
recollected, that all judgments the negative of which
is inconceivable are to be accepted as true. Now,
according to this theory, Is the inconceivability of its
negative the ground on which any proposition ought
to be accepted, or is it simply an attribute which
in fact belongs to self-evident propositions and to
no others ? Is it a reason, or is it merely a mark ?
It will be observed that the whole nature of Mr.
Spencer s philosophy must entirely depend on which
of these alternatives he selects If he selects the
second, then it would only remain to examine all the
ultimate propositions on which his creed rests, and
to observe whether it is true that the negative of
each one of them is inconceivable. But even if the
result of this examination were to show (as I appre
hend it would show) that the negative of some of
them might be conceived with the utmost facility,
this would in no way tend to invalidate the grounds
on which the remainder of his creed rests ; it would
simply show that those grounds had been wrongly
198 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
described. If, on the other hand, he selects the first
alternative, and means to assert that the inconceiva
bility of their negative is the ultimate reason which
is to be given for all his beliefs, then, if it can be
shown that this is in reality no reason, the beliefs
themselves must, so far as he is concerned, be
regarded as requiring proof, but not as having ob
tained it.
There are, I think, some phrases used by Mr.
Spencer, especially in the earlier version of his
argument, which might lead one for a moment to
suppose that he held to the second of these alterna
tives. Nevertheless, I shall assume that the first
represents his real opinion, because otherwise it is
evident that his Universal Postulate or ultimate
criterion of truth could never be brought forward as
an argument at all. If the inconceivability of the
opposite is merely an attribute which is thought to
attach itself to those ultimate beliefs which neither
have nor require proof, the discovery of its absence
in certain cases will affect no belief except the one
which asserted its universal presence. It can, there
fore, never supply an ultimate ground of conviction,
and sinks into a fact of secondary philosophic
interest.
We must credit Mr. Spencer then with holding
the first alternative, which, as the following quota
tions may serve to indicate, undoubtedly fits in
naturally and easily with his habitual language. To
CHAP, x.] THE TEST OF INCONCEIVABILITY. 199
assert, l he says, * the mconceivableness of the ne
gative (of a cognition), is at the same time to assert
the psychological necessity we are under of thinking
it, and to give our logical justification for holding it!
Again, 2 How do we know that it is impossible for
the same thing to be and not to be ? What is our
criterion of this impossibility ? Can Sir William
Hamilton assign any other than this same incon
ceivability ?
Here, it will be observed, we have a general
statement of the theory, with a particular example
of its application ; and from a consideration of these
and of other passages, too long to quote, it would
seem that Mr. Spencer regards our incapacity to
perform a certain mental act as the ultimate ground
on which all propositions, even those asserting truths
commonly thought to be necessary, are finally to be
accepted.
This mental act, I have already given reasons for
thinking, is one of imagination or representation ;
but not to enter into unnecessary controversy, I will
describe it in Mr. Spencer s own words as consist
ing in * tearing 3 asunder states of consciousness. If
this operation cannot be performed if the states of
consciousness persist in cohering, in spite of our
efforts to disunite them, then, according to Mr.
Spencer, we have not only the highest warrant which
1 Page 407, the italics are my own. a Page 425.
3 Fortnightly Review, p. 544.
200 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
it is possible to attain for supposing that the attri
butes represented by these states of consciousness
coexist in nature, but we have also the highest
warrant which, constructed as we are, it is possible
to imagine. 1
If this be so, our prospects of discovering a
satisfactory philosophy seem small. In what possible
way can a psychological fact whether it consists in
attempting to 4 tear asunder states of consciousness/
or in anything else afford a satisfactory warrant for
some other fact, unless we first take for granted
a very large number of propositions for which
a warrant is very much needed ? Why should
we assume this pre-established harmony between
the subjective and the * objective world ? Grant
either some theological postulate, or some law of
inherited aptitudes, and the harmony may cease to
be surprising ; but these are hypotheses which it is
needless to say cannot themselves afford a warrant
until they first obtain it. Nor is this all. Not only
is the mental incapacity to tear asunder states of
consciousness no logical justification for holding
a belief, but, on Mr. Spencer s own principles, a belief
in the incapacity would appear to require a logical
justification itself. We are supposed by his theory
to believe that it is impossible for the same thing
to be and not to be, 2 on the ground that we cannot
conceive the opposite. But how do we know that we
1 Psychology, p. 425. 2 Ibid.
CHAP, x.l THE TEST OF INCONCEIVABILITY. 201
cannot conceive the opposite ? Is this a belief which
requires a warrant, or is it not ? If it is, then the
warrant must be that we cannot conceive that we can
conceive the opposite ; and as this belief and all its
successors will also require similar warrants, we are
committed to an infinite regress. If, on the other
hand, it is not a belief which requires a warrant, then
I desire to know why the belief that it is impossible
for the same thing to be and not to be requires one ?
I am quite as certain that it is impossible, as I am
that I cannot conceive it to be possible ; and if I am
not expected to give a logical justification for the
second of these beliefs, I see no reason why I should
be expected to give one for the first.
On Mr. Spencer s own principle, indeed, the
mental fact that we cannot conceive the opposite of
a given proposition, in the only case in which, accord
ing to him, it can serve as a final ground of certainty,
is not one of which we can have any immediate
knowledge. Only, it appears, when the proposition
whose opposite is inconceivable happens also to be
undecomposable, 1 can we say with assurance that it
must be true. So that before applying his postulate
to the proof of some axiom (say * that things which
are equal to the same thing are equal to one an
other 2 ) we have to convince ourselves, first, that
this is a proposition not capable of further decom
position ; and, secondly, that we are unable to con-
1 Psychology, p. 410. 8 Ibid. p. 411.
202 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
ceive its opposite. Surely the scepticism which is
set at rest by such arguments as these must be of a
very peculiar complexion ; for it must doubt that
things which are equal to the same thing are equal
to one another, and be certain of logical and psy
chological facts, not to my mind very easy to deter
mine, and respecting which, by Mr. Spencer s own
account, men have frequently been in error.
These objections, it will be observed, keep their
weight whatever the nature of the psychological in
capacity may be which Mr. Spencer describes as an
inability to conceive the opposite of a proposition.
Though there is, as I before hinted, some obscurity
hanging over this point, there can be little doubt
that, at all events, the incapacity is, as has been
hitherto assumed, one of imagination or representa
tion. What seems more doubtful is whether Mr.
Spencer does not suppose it to be this and at the
same time something else from which it ought care
fully to be distinguished. Much of his language
suggests the idea that, in his opinion, necessities of
imagination are not merely accompaniments of, or
causes of, necessities of belief, but are actually the
same thing, and that the representation of the attri
butes in one image is actually identical with the act
of believing that two attributes are united in one
object. He says, for instance, 1 An abortive effort
to conceive the negation of a proposition, shows that
1 Psychology, p. 425. Italics are my own. Cf. also p. 402.
CHAP, x.] THE TEST OF INCONCEIVABILITY. 203
the cognition expressed is one of which the predicate
invariably exists along with the subject [that is, I
suppose, shows that we cannot conceive them dis
united] ; and the discovery that the predicate invari
ably exists along with its object is the discovery that
this cognition is one we are compelled to accept And
again, in the very act of distinguishing between in
conceivability and incredibility he seems to suggest
the idea that they differ in degree and not in kind. 1
If the strange psychological doctrine thus adum
brated is really Mr. Spencer s, he is no doubt
justified on his own principles in asserting that any
proposition of which the opposite is inconceivable
must be believed, because inconceivable with him
must mean not only that which is unimaginable, but
also, and at the same time, that which is absolutely
and in the extremest degree incredible. In truth,
however, his philosophy gains nothing by a confusion
which (if it be his) is a serious blot on his psycho
logy. The statement that we are absolutely incap
able of believing the opposite of a proposition may
carry with it the assurance that we must believe it,
for in reality the two expressions are equivalent ; but
I altogether fail to see how it can show us that we
ought to believe it. I doubt myself, indeed, whether
it is possible to try to believe the opposite of an
axiom in the sense in which it is possible to try to
imagine the state of things opposite to that which it
1 Page 408.
204 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11."
asserts. I doubt, for example, whether we can
seriously try to believe that a thing can both be
and not be, though some sort of attempt to imagine
a space at the same time filled and not filled by an
object might possibly be made. But however this
may be, it is certain that the incapacity to believe
one thing, though it may constitute a t psychological
necessity/ 1 cannot give a logical justification for
believing its contradictory ; and that if it be once
admitted that such a logical justification must be
obtained for what are commonly thought to be self-
evident propositions, we should require, as I pointed
out before, not one, but an infinite series of justifica
tions, before anything could be considered as proved
at all. In short, whether inconceivable means un
imaginable, unrepresentable (if there is such a word),
unthinkable, or in the highest degree unbelievable,
its relation to the theory of ultimate premises of
knowledge remains the same. Under no circum
stances can the recognition of the mental fact that
the opposite of a certain proposition is inconceivable
by me, be to me a satisfactory reason for believ
ing it.
Mr. Spencer seems to be under the singular
delusion that any one declining to recognise the
Universal Postulate can consistently do this only so
long as he maintains the attitude of pure and simple
negation. The moment he asserts anything the
1 Page 407.
CHAP, x.] THE TEST OF INCONCEIVABILITY. 205
moment he even gives a reason for his denial, he
may be stopped by demanding his warrant. Against
every " because," and every " therefore " may be
entered a demurrer, until he has said why this
proposition is to be accepted rather than the count-
ter-proposition. So that he cannot even take a step
towards justifying his scepticism respecting the Uni
versal Postulate without, in the very act, confessing
his acceptance of it. 1
The confusion underlying these remarks has
already been pointed out by implication ; and if I
may venture to give an opinion on such a question,
it is the fundamental confusion which has vitiated all
this portion of Mr. Spencer s speculation. He seems
to suppose that the choice lies between founding a
creed on the Universal Postulate, and founding it
upon nothing at all : and in order to demonstrate
the absurdity of the second alternative, he actually
puts himself to the trouble of refuting a theory
which he calls * Pure Empiricism which * tacitly
assumes that there may be a Philosophy in which
nothing is asserted but what is proved. 2 Whether
this singular system has any objective existence I
do not know : if it has, Mr. Spencer may be allowed
the credit of having effectually exposed its absurdity ;
but I protest against the notion that we must choose
between a philosophy of this type, and one ultimately
based on the Universal Postulate ; nor can I the
1 Page 427. 2 Page 39I
206 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART H.
least imagine the dialectical process by which Mr.
Spencer would compel the Metaphysicians (who
come in for so many hard sayings at his hands) to
regard them as the only possible alternatives.
In one of the earlier chapters of his * General
Analysis/ Mr. Spencer has found it convenient to
give us an amended version of one of Berkeley s
dialogues. 1 It will not, I hope, be thought disrespect
ful if, also in the dialogue form, I give my idea of
the method in which Mr. Spencer and a Meta
physician would discuss the necessity and validity
of the Universal Postulate. We must suppose this
imaginary individual to have so far forgotten himself
as to make some positive statement say that a
thing must either be or not be. Instantly 2 Mr.
Spencer demands his warrant for the assertion, upon
which our Metaphysician would probably say
Metaphysician. I have no warrant for the asser
tion, and I wish for none. It expresses a belief for
which no proof is forthcoming, and for which none
is required.
Mr. Spencer. Still you must say why this pro
position is to be accepted rather than the counter-
proposition. 3
Metaphysician. Perhaps, if that is your opinion,
you will be good enough to give me your own version
of this reason.
Mr. Spencer. Certainly. I believe that a thing
1 Page 337. 2 Page 427 3 Ibid
CHAP, x.] THE TEST OF INCONCEIVABILITY. 207
must either be or not be, because this is a proposi
tion of which I cannot conceive the negation.
Metaphysician. Then in your opinion the fact
that you cannot conceive the negation of a proposi
tion is in all cases a sufficient logical justification for
believing it ?
Mr. Spencer. Well, not exactly. It is sufficient
only in the case of those propositions which are not
further decomposable. 2
Metaphysician. Then I understand you to hold
that all propositions which are not further decom
posable, and whose negations are inconceivable, are
true ; and that a thing must either be or not be is
such a proposition.
Mr. Spencer. That is my opinion.
Metaphysician. Without disputing your major
premiss which, however, by no means commends
itself to my mind I am curious to know how you
arrive at the conclusion that the proposition we are
discussing (i) cannot be further decomposed, and
has (2) a negation which is inconceivable ?
Mr. Spencer. I arrive at the first conclusion 3 by
a careful consideration of the proposition itself; I
arrive at the second by a process of introspection. 4
Metaphysician. Speaking for myself, I do not
feel more certainty respecting the accuracy with
which these operations have been performed, than I
1 Page 407. 2 Page 410. 3 Pages 394-399.
4 Fortnightly Review, pp. 542-545.
2o8 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
did respecting the truth of the original assertion for
which you informed me warrant was required ;
indeed, I do not feel nearly so much. Doubtless,
however, as you are so particular on the subject of
warrants, you have some warrant for your opinions
on these points ; could you inform me precisely what
it is ?
I shall not continue the imaginary dialogue,
because it is hard to think of any reply which Mr.
Spencer could make to this last demand which would
not have about it a slight air of absurdity. If the
reader desires to bring the conversation to a proper
close, he will have no difficulty in filling in the blank
for himself. I have said enough to make it clear
why it is that Mr. Spencer s elaborate discussion on
the Universal Postulate does not, in my opinion,
constitute a valuable addition to Philosophic theory :
and it only remains to examine how far his particular
system of Realism, which is professedly founded on
the Universal Postulate, is tenable if that be discre
dited. This I shall do in the next chapter.
CHAP. XL] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 209
CHAPTER XI.
MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM.
I HAVE been in some doubt whether, having- regard
to the general plan of this essay, I ought or ought
not to introduce into it any criticism on Mr. Spencer s
Proof of Realism. My wish has been to consider
merely those opinions which have gained some
acceptance among English thinkers, and to criticise
these in their most perfect shape ; but though,
doubtless, Mr. Spencer s statement of his views is
the best attainable, I am not aware that the portion
of his speculations which he himself would describe
as metaphysical fulfils the first of the above con
ditions, in having obtained any philosophic fol
lowing.
But though Mr. Spencer s metaphysics have
not perhaps commanded much assent, his general
theory of the universe, which logically depends on
his metaphysics, is accepted in its main outline by
so many thinkers in this country, and occupies so
important a space in the field of general speculation,
that a sort of reflected importance is shed over his
defence of the foundations on which the imposing
superstructure finally rests. It may, therefore, be
210 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
convenient to state some of the reasons which exist
for thinking that the defence is hardly as effective as
Mr. Spencer seems to consider it.
Mr. Spencer sees clearly, more clearly perhaps
than other philosophers with whom he is nearly
allied, that the question of the external world is a
fundamental one for Science, or, if not for Science,
at all events for Evolution. * Should the idealist
be right/ he says, the doctrine of Evolution is a
dream. l As, previous to this utterance, Mr. Spen
cer had written (I think) five volumes of Philo
sophy, which, if the doctrine of Evolution be a
dream, can be little better than waste paper, it is
clear that he is bound under heavy penalties to prove
that the Idealist is wrong. Accordingly, he gives a
defence of Realism which certainly does not err on
the side of meagreness. It consists of some nine
teen chapters, occupying nearly two hundred pages,
divided, 2 as the reader acquainted with Mr. Spencer s
favourite method of arrangement will be prepared to
expect, into an Introduction, an Analytical Argu
ment (subdivided into a proximate Analysis and an
ultimate Analysis), and a Synthetical Argument;
and enriched with even a larger number than usual
of those apologues with which Mr. Spencer so often
finds it convenient to prepare the minds of his
readers for the comprehension of his more abstruse
speculations.
1 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 311. 2 Ibid. 367.
CHAP. XL] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 211
It is evidently impossible within the limits of
this essay to criticise so elaborate a discussion in all
its details. The most convenient plan will perhaps
be to say a few words on the substance of those
chapters which seem to call for remark, taking them
in their existing order. But before doing this, it will
be well to determine certain preliminary points, which
will greatly facilitate the progress of the argument.
In the first place, Mr. Spencer and the idealists
are agreed in asserting that we do not directly per
ceive the permanent reality if such a thing exists.
What we are conscious of, says Mr. Spencer, 1 as
properties of matter, even down to weight and resis
tance, are but subjective affections produced by
objective agencies which are unknown and unknow
able.
In the second place, the idealist denies that there
is any proof that this permanent reality exists, while
Mr. Spencer asserts that there is such proof, and
that he is in possession of it.
And in the third place, I understand Mr. Spencer
to maintain that the unknown and unknowable, un-
perceived and unperceivable reality, varies in some
fixed relation with the known and perceived subjec
tive affection which it produces.
The thing to be proved being thus to a certain
extent made clear, let us proceed to the proof.
In doing so I shall take the liberty of omitting
1 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 493.
P 2
2T2 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
any detailed reference to the first four chapters
which Mr. Spencer describes as an Introduction.
My justification for doing this is that, as the object
of these chapters is merely to foreshadow l the suc
ceeding arguments, I shall overlook nothing essential
to his case by taking such a course. While my motive
for doing it is in the first place to save space, and in
the second place to avoid having to enter, not merely
into Mr. Spencer s views, but into his views of other
people s views. Three out of these four chapters
consist in an attack on that miscellaneous body of
thinkers whom Mr. Spencer is in the habit of hold
ing up to general contempt under the collective
name of Metaphysicians ; and though my private
conviction is, that could they reply they would make
very short work of some of his objections, still, as I
am anxious to keep as clear as possible of historical
discussion, and as I am in no way concerned to de
fend the philosophers in question, the better course
will be to proceed at once to the main body of the
argument, without indulging in any preliminary skir
mishing.
Chapter V. is merely explanatory of the general
arrangement of the discussion.
Chap. VI. contains * The Argument from Priority,
thus summarised by Mr. Spencer : 2 In the history
of the race, as well as in the history of every mind,
Realism is the primary conception ; only after it has
1 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 367. 2 Ibid. p. 374.
CHAP. XL] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 213
been reached and long held without question does
it become possible even to frame the Idealistic con
ception, while resting upon the Realistic one ; and
then, as ever after, the Idealistic conception, depend
ing on the Realistic one, must vanish the instant the
Realistic one is taken away/ With regard to the
first of these positions, Mr. Spencer observes, 1 that
his calling in question its converse 4 will excite sur
prise in the metaphysical reader, which will rise
into astonishment if he distinctly denies it. If the
metaphysical reader is either surprised or astonished,
it will, I apprehend, be more probably at Mr. Spen
cer s thinking that the assertion that some form of
Realism is the primary and natural belief of man
kind is relevant, than at his thinking it true. I
never heard of anybody who supposed that the
Boys, Hottentots, and Farm -labourers, from whom
Mr. Spencer draws his illustrations, were either
Idealists or inferred the existence of the indepen
dent world from the consciousness of their own
sensations. Nor is it easy to see how anybody
holding Mr. Spencer s views can think it of much
importance what they thought, since their Crude
Realism is nearly as far removed from Transfigured
Realism as it is from Idealism. But, says Mr.
Spencer, 2 Realism must be posited, before a step
can be taken towards propounding Idealism. And
in the succeeding paragraph he implies that the
1 Psychology, vol. ii, p. 369. 2 Ibid. p. 374.
214 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
proof of Idealism logically requires us to assume the
existence of external (? independent) objects. For
this statement however, which, if true, would un
doubtedly confute the idealist as distinguished from
the sceptic, I cannot find a shadow of proof, unless
the following extract (for the length of which I must
apologise) is to be regarded as such.
Tell (a labourer or farmer) that the sound he
hears from the bell of the village church exists in
himself; and that in the absence of all creatures
having ears there would be no sound. When his
look of blank amazement has waned, try and make
him understand this truth which is so clear to you.
Explain that the vibrations of the bell are commu
nicated to the air ; that the air communicates them
as waves or pulses ; that these pulses successively
strike the membrane of his ear, causing it to vibrate ;
and that what exists in the air as mechanical move
ments become in him the sensation of sound, which
varies in pitch as these movements vary in their
rapidity of succession. And now ask yourself, What
are these things you are telling him about ? When
you speak to him of the bell, of the air, of the me
chanical motions, do you mean so many of his ideas ?
If you do, you fall into the astounding absurdity of
supposing that he already has the conception you
are trying to give him. By the bell, the air, the
vibrations, then, you mean just what he means
so many objective existences and actions; and by
CHAP, xi.] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 215
no possibility can you present to him this hypothesis,
that what he knows as sound exists in him, and not
outside him, without postulating, in common with
him, these objective realities. By no possibility can
you show him that he knows only his own sensations,
without supposing Jrini to be already conscious of all
these things and changes caiising his sensations
If we may judge from this extract, and especially
from the last sentence of it, which I have put in
italics, Mr. Spencer imagines that an Idealist sets to
work to prove that we know only our own sensations,
by showing that, according to modern physical theo
ries, our sensations are produced in us by the motions
of objects in space : by showing, for example, that
sound is subjective, because its objective cause is
vibrations, which are something altogether different
from the sensations they produce. If any Idealist
really argued in this way, his procedure would cer
tainly exhibit what Mr. Spencer calls * a scarcely
imaginable blindness to the contradiction between
premises and conclusion. But I never heard of such
an individual, and if he exists, he certainly is not
representative. It is true that many Idealists for
example, Mr. J. S. Mill 2 -have held, in my opinion
erroneously, that Idealism was consistent with the
usual physical theories respecting the causes of sen
sation, but they never founded their Idealism on
1 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 374. 2 Cf. section of this Essay.
216 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
those theories, and whatever be their errors, are cer
tainly not guilty of unimaginable blindness.
The Argument from Priority may therefore
be dismissed, because, of the two main positions of
which it consists, one is not relevant, and the other
is not true. It is not relevant to say, that the first
and natural belief of mankind is realistic ; it is not
true to say, that the proof of Idealism logically in
volves Realism.
Chap. VII. 1 contains The Argument from Sim
plicity, which is shortly this : Since the proof of
Realism contains much fewer steps than the proof
of Idealism, it is therefore much less likely to be
erroneous. I shall reserve my remarks on this piece
of reasoning till we reach Chapters XIII. and XIV.,
where it is more elaborately repeated ; and shall
only say here that if, as Mr, Spencer seems to
think, 2 the proofs whose lengths have to be com
pared include not only all that can be said in favour
of one view, but also all that can be said against the
other the nineteen chapters we are now considering
must furnish a powerful objection against the truth
of Realism.
Chap. VIII. 3 contains The Argument from Dis
tinctness. It may be stated thus : 4 The one pro
position of Realism is presented in vivid terms, and
each of the many propositions of Idealism or Scep-
1 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 375. 2 Ibid> p ^
J Ibid. p. 379. 4 Ibid 8o
CHAR XL] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 217
ticism is represented in faint terms ; ergo, Realism
is to be preferred. Without wasting the reader s
time by disputing the major premiss of this argu
ment, viz. that the propositions whose terms are
vividly represented are to be preferred to proposi
tions whose terms are faintly represented absurd
as this is when crudely stated, and ill as it fits in
with our author s doctrine, that propositions are to
be accepted in proportion to the strength with which
their terms cohere? I shall content myself with attack
ing the minor premiss.
What, then, is the one proposition of Realism
which is represented in vivid terms ? In glancing
through Mr. Spencer s defence of Realism, we
come across a large number of propositions of a
highly abstract character, and all of them equally
necessary to his system. He has opinions on the
nature of the connection between subject and object
proof of the existence of the object explanation
of the nature of the object none of which can be
omitted without depriving his doctrine of some
essential element. Are these the propositions, or
any of them, which are represented in vivid terms ?
The reader shall judge from one specimen. Here
is an extract describing the Real, as it is put before
us by Mr. Spencer s Realism : * These several sets
of experiences unite to form a conception of some
thing beyond consciousness which is absolutely inde-
1 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 450.
218 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART 11.
pendent of consciousness ; which possesses power, if
not like that of consciousness, yet equivalent to it ;
and which remains fixed in the midst of changing
appearances. And this conception, uniting indepen
dence, permanence, and force, is the conception we
have of matter. If the reader thinks the ideas
called up by this sentence are particularly vivid,
he must, as Mr. Spencer remarks l on another occa
sion, have a mental structure of a very peculiar
kind.
The real truth is that, because all idealists
and sceptics, in the exposition and defence of their
opinions, have indulged in a great deal of abstract
Psychology, Mr. Spencer concludes that such specu
lations are more required by their opinions than they
are by the opinions of their opponents. The quan
tity of such speculation which he has himself found
it necessary to give to the world in support of
Realism should have made him cautious in his
assertions on this point, which are, in fact, as I shall
presently show, founded on a misconception respect
ing the sceptical position.
The chapters from IX. to XI. inclusive, which
contain Mr. Spencer s account of our ultimate cri
terion of belief, have been sufficiently dealt with in
the last chapter.
Chapter XII. contains an account of the proper
mode of comparing conclusions in those cases where
1 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 327.
CHAP, xi.] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 219
both sides make appeal to the Universal Postulate,
on which (as Mr. Spencer thinks) all belief and all
reasoning are ultimately founded. His view is, that
the * conclusion which involves the postulate the
fewest times is the one to be accepted ; and though
I shall for obvious reasons ignore that part of his re
marks which assume the truth of the postulate itself,
it will be well to say something respecting an argu
ment which in its main outlines Mr. Spencer used
before in Chapter VII.
This argument is essentially as follows : Every
piece of reasoning is, other things being equal, to be
trusted, roughly speaking, in inverse proportion to
its length. In other words, the longer it is the more
likelihood is there of error having crept in at some
point in its course. How far this argument, if sound,
can be used in favour of Realism is a question which
will be discussed immediately. At present I am con
cerned with the argument considered in itself. It
may be admitted at once that the allegation contained
in it is true. It is undoubtedly the fact that of any
two computations the shorter is probably the more
correct other things being the same. But then, under
what circumstances are other things the same ? To
whom does it occur to know no other difference
between two lines of reasoning but the difference
between their lengths ? So far as I can see, to only
two classes of people to those who know no other
difference merely because they know nothing about
220 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
the matter, who are absolutely ignorant both of the
history and of the character of the things compared ;
and to those who know something about the subject,
but can draw no conclusions from their knowledge,
in whose eyes both lines of reasoning appear equally
solid, and the authorities on both sides equally
worthy of deference. This is not very different
from saying that the only people who are likely to
be convinced solely by the argument from sim
plicity, are those who are either too ignorant or too
stupid to make use of any other. These are not, I
imagine, the only persons whom Mr. Spencer desires
to persuade ; but it is clear that it is only in relation
to them that the comparative lengths of two argu
ments can be regarded as l a rigorous test of the
relative validities of their conflicting conclusion/ or
as a method of ascertaining the comparative values
of all cognitions. 2 To all other people to all, that
is, who have some opinion respecting the intrinsic
worth of the lines of reasoning compared the
relative length of those lines can at most be only
one of the grounds on which their ultimate verdict
is based ; and then the question arises, what is to be
done when the longest argument appears to be in
itself the soundest ? To judge by the confidence
which Mr. Spencer appears to place in his test of
relative validity, his opinion would seem to be that,
1 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 434. % Ibid.
CHAP XL] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 221
even in that case, the conclusion arrived at by the
shortest route is to be accepted a somewhat extra
vagant doctrine, according to which a long division
sum, done by a charity school-boy, would be re
garded as giving more trustworthy results than
the calculations establishing the lunar theory. The
better opinion seems to be that, though, other
things being equal, the fewer steps an argument
consists of the less likelihood is there of one of
them being false ; yet that, since this risk may be
indefinitely diminished by repeated examinations, it
may be practically neglected in those cases where
the balance of reason appears, on other grounds, to
incline distinctly to one side or the other. And this
opinion, I take it, is not only the most reasonable
one in itself, but is that which is sanctioned by the
ordinary practice of mankind.
Chapter XIII. contains the application of the
general test of relative validity established in the
preceding chapter to the particular controversy
between Realism and Scepticism. As, however, we
have found reason for thinking that the test is
pretty nearly worthless, I might consider myself
absolved from any obligation to consider how far, if
valid, it would tell in favour of Mr. Spencer s par
ticular opinions ; and should therefore - pass this
chapter over, were it not that it affords a convenient
occasion for clearing up some of the misconceptions
respecting the essential nature of the arguments to
222 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART IT.
be compared, by which our author has been greatly
misled.
I will begin, as he does, with the realistic argu
ment. Here 1 is his own version of it : Let him
(the reader) contemplate an object this book, for
instance. Resolutely refraining from theorising, let
him say what he finds. He finds that he is conscious
of the book as existing apart from himself. Does
there enter into his consciousness any notion about
sensation ? Not so Does he perceive
that the thing he is conscious of is an image of the
book? Not at all So long as he refuses
to translate the fact into any hypothesis, he feels
simply conscious of the book, and not of an im
pression of the book of an objective and not of a
subjective thing. He feels that this recognition of
the book as an external reality is a single indivisible
act And, lastly, he feels that, do what he
will, he cannot reverse this act he cannot conceive
that where he sees and feels the book there is nothing.
Hence, while he continues looking at the book, his
belief in it as an external reality possesses the
highest validity possible. It has the direct guarantee
of the Universal Postulate ; and it assumes the
Universal Postulate only once
This very singular passage is immediately fol
lowed by three pages of argument, intended to show
1 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 437 (italics my own).
CHAP. XL] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF KKAUSM. 223
that we can and do have a knowledge of the not-self
without having at the same time a knowledge of the
self. How this is to be reconciled with the state
ment I have italicised above, which asserts that in
looking at a book we are conscious of it as existing
apart from ourselves ; how, in other words, it can be
possible to think of a thing as existing apart from
another thing, without at the same time thinking of
that other thing, I do not pretend to say. Possibly
the expression is a slip : in any case, I pass on to
objections of more importance.
I contend, then, in the first place, that the realistic
argument above stated, even if it proved all that Mr.
Spencer thinks it proves, is not sufficient to establish
the ordinary belief in an external world. I contend,
in the second place, that the psychological facts
on which the argument rests are, when properly
understood, not inconsistent with either Idealism or
Scepticism. And I contend, in the third place, that
if the argument is, as Mr. Spencer thinks it is, sub
versive of any theory of Idealism or Scepticism, it is
not less subversive of Mr. Spencer s own theory of
Transfigured Realism.
What is the thing supposed to be proved by this
argument ? Mr. Spencer states it in the clearest
terms. While (the reader) continues looking at the
book, his belief in it r>s an external (= independent)
reality possesses 4 the highest validity possible. This
is the conclusion which is so certain and so imme-
224 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n-
diate that scepticism is impotent to shake it. But
surely it is evident that scepticism might admit it,
and not be much the worse for the admission. If
the only belief which, having * the highest validity
possible/ must be respected by the sceptic, is the
belief in the objective existence of the second volume
of Mr. Spencer s Psychology (or some other single
object), and that only so long as the reader happens
to be looking at it, it is plain that the field of legiti
mate doubt is not materially limited. So very
modest a contribution to the Cosmos postulated by
Science, is scarcely sufficient by itself to assure us
that Evolution may not, after all, be a dream/ On
this objection, however, which deals rather with the
nature of the external world than with its independ
ence, I do not dwell.
My second objection to Mr. Spencer s realistic
argument is, that he assumes in it that the idealistic
conclusion can be reached only by either ignoring or
* doctoring (so to speak) the facts given in percep
tion ; a misconception which I think has its root in
the ambiguous use of the word external. In this
connection external may mean external to (= inde
pendent of) the perceiving self, or it may mean ex
ternal to (= outside of) the perceiving organism. It
is using the term in the first of these senses, not in
the second, that the sceptic and idealist doubt and
deny respectively the existence of an external world ;
but if we are rigidly to interpret Mr. Spencer s
CHAP. XL] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 225
language, he seems to regard these two very different
positions as equivalent.
A man looking at a book, he says, cannot con
ceive that where he sees and feels the book there is
nothing Nor is it necessary, in the interests of
Idealism, that he should conceive it. Of course
where he sees and feels the book there is something ;
there is the book. The idealist does not deny
this on the one hand, nor does he assert on the other
that, when he does not see and feel the book, it is
not there, in the sense of having vanished from that
portion of space. No idealist seriously maintains, I
should imagine, that the universe consists of infinite
space, empty except for those things which happen
each moment to be perceived. But if they do not
maintain this, what is the use of asserting, as against
them, that we cannot conceive that where we see
and feel a book there is nothing ?
My third objection to Mr. Spencer s realistic
argument is, that the mode of refuting * meta
physicians, for which in this chapter and elsewhere
he shows a marked partiality, is as effective against
himself as it is against his opponents. Like the
common sense school, he constantly assumes that
the unbiassed deliverance of consciousness (as he
would call it), the unsifted opinion of the vulgar (as
I should rather describe it), carries with it some
peculiar weight in the controversy. But, unlike the
common sense school, the opinions which he really
Q
226 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
holds respecting the external world require us to do
as much violence to our ordinary beliefs as any form
of what he calls Anti- Realism. Throughout the
whole of the Negative Justification of Realism we
are allowed to suppose that the errors of meta
physicians are aberrations from true and natural
beliefs produced by artificial habits of analysis ; and
it is not till we come to the Positive Justification of
Realism that we discover how different are the
beliefs which are true from those which are natural ;
these last being ultimately described contempt
uously if truly as constituting a l a crude realism/
* the 2 realism of common life/ the realism of the
child and the rustic/
A striking example of the facility with which
Mr. Spencer adopts the reasoning of Crude Realism
when it happens to suit his convenience, occurs in
the chapter we are considering. His object for the
moment is to contrast in a certain particular (which
I have elsewhere shown to be immaterial) the argu
ments used by metaphysicians and the argument by
which Realism is established. For the purpose of
this comparison he selects, as a specimen of meta
physical reasoning, the argument of the hypothetical
realist ; as a specimen of realistic reasoning, the
argument I quoted above. It would be easy in the
interest of the metaphysician to take exception to
the first of these selections, which Mr. Spencer
1 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 497. Ibid. p. 493.
CHAP. XL] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 227
justifies on the strange ground that Hypothetical
Realism is the l comparatively unassuming parent
of all other Anti-Realistic doctrines; but what I wish
more particularly to insist on now is the impropriety
of his attempting to refute an argument, with whose
conclusion he substantially agrees, by means of one
from whose conclusions he absolutely dissents. His
opinion we know is that 2 what we are conscious of
as properties of matter, even down to weight and
resistance, are but subjective affections produced in
us by objective agencies which are unknown and un
knowable. This, I take it is also the opinion of
the Hypothetical Realist : but it is by no means the
opinion either of the ordinary man, or of the indi
vidual whom Mr. Spencer represents as arriving at a
realistic conclusion by the simple process of looking
at some single object say the second volume of the
Psychology with an unbiassed mind. This per
sonage (as we saw) 3 feels that the sole content of
his consciousness is the book considered as an
external (= independent) reality. And the corre
sponding belief is one, we are further informed, which
has the highest validity possible. Now the ex
ternal reality is, according to Mr. Spencer, unknown
and unknowable a mode of being, as we are
elsewhere told, 4 represented to us by an indefinable
consciousness. Putting all these statements to-
1 Psychology, p. 441. 2 Ibid. p. 493.
3 Ibid. p. 437. 4 Ibid. p. 452.
o 2
228 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART. n.
gether, we arrive at the conclusion that the individual
looking at Mr. Spencer s book is unconscious of any
of the properties of matter, and has, as the sole con
tent of his consciousness, an indefinable conscious
ness standing for an unknown and unknowable mode
of being beyond consciousness !
This is not a very satisfactory or instructive
result ; but it is one of a kind which can scarcely be
avoided by any thinker who tries to use our ordinary
and natural beliefs as weapons against the sceptic,
at the very time when he is attempting to establish
a theory against which all our ordinary and natural
beliefs rebel. To my mind the effort to upset the
results of critical analysis (whatever these may be)
by an appeal to uncritical opinion is as reasonable
in the case of the sceptical view of the external
world as it would be in the case of the Copernican
theory of the Solar System, and not nearly so reason
able as it would be in the case of the Freedom
of Will. But however this may be, whether the
method be good or bad, if it is applied to all it must
be applied impartially. It will not do to reject
Idealism because it is in opposition to natural con
victions of mankind, unless you are prepared to say
that you think the natural convictions of mankind
are sound : and you cannot think that the natural
convictions of mankind are sound unless you are pre
pared to endorse opinions which are not only un
fitted to sustain criticism in themselves, but which
CHAP, xi.] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 229
would render Physical Science an absurdity. If our
instinctive judgments are sufficient to prove that an
independent object exists, they are sufficient to
prove that it is coloured, extended, and with a
particular weight, configuration, and texture. If
physical science and introspective analysis are to be
believed when they show that colour and the pro
perties of matter are, as Mr. Spencer says, sub
jective affections/ they deprive the appeal to our
instinctive judgments of all the weight it might
otherwise possess. 1
1 An objection substantially the same as that given in the text has
been urged by Mr. H. Sidgwick in the Academy, and Mr. Spencer has
replied to it in an article afterwards re-published in the third volume of
his Essays. 1 His reply, which he does not, I think, seem to be quite
pleased with himself, need not detain us long. It turns essentially on a
distinction between the Primordial Judgment, as he calls it, 2 of Crude
Realism, which informs us that an object exists, and the other Judgments
of Crude Realism which (as he cannot deny) tell us that it is coloured,
and so forth. The first we are to believe in, whatever arguments may
be brought against it, but not the second. Now on what is this dis
tinction founded ? He does not formally tell us, but he gives us to
understand, by his examples, that it is founded on the fact, that the
judgments of the second class arc, while the Primordial judgment
of the first class is not, capable of an interpretation which equally
well corresponds with direct intuition, while it avoids all the diffi
culties. 3 I will content myself with stating one of the objections to
which this doctrine seems open : which, if it remains unanswered,
will, however, be sufficient.
Mr. Spencer admits that, according to the immediate deliverance
of Crude Realism, the external reality has the properties of matter ;
but we know that according to him the properties of matter, even
down to weight and resistance, are but subjective affections. 4 Crude
Realism is, therefore, wrong ; but though wrong, it arrives at its
1 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 282-286. a Ibid. p. 286.
3 Ibid. p. 284. 4 Ibid. p. 493.
2 3 o A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART ir.
I have now said not indeed all that might be
said, but all that need be said in answer to the
negative justification of Realism. With Chapter
XIV. begins the Positive Justification, which extends
through four chapters, and completes Mr. Spencer s
case.
This part of his argument need not, however,
opinion by a single step. Mr. Spencer shows that it is wrong by a
process of interpretation, which is nothing else than an explanation
of the usual physical theories of the origin of sensation, 1 and which is
therefore an extremely long and complicated argument. How is this
to be reconciled with that theory according to which results are trust
worthy according as they are arrived at by the shortest trains of
reasoning ? What becomes of the test of relative validity ? The
truth is, that Mr. Spencer s distinction between the Primordial and
the other Judgments of Crude Realism is perfectly arbitrary, as I think
he will himself see, if he tries to show reason for restoring the follow
ing doctored quotation from the XHIth Chapter of his General
Analysis to its original form. The words I have added, or substi
tuted, are put in italics. The reader looking at a book finds that he
is conscious of the book as a coloured extended object apart from him
self. Does there enter into his consciousness any notion about sensa
tion ? No Does he perceive that the thing he is conscious of
is an image of the book ? Not at all So long as he refuses to
translate facts into any hypothesis, he feels simply conscious of a coloured
and extended object, and not of an impression of a coloured and ex
tended object. .... He feels that this recognition of the book as an
external coloured and extended reality is a single indivisible act
And, lastly, he feels that do what he will, he cannot reverse this act.
.... Hence, while he continues looking at the book, his belief in it
as a coloured and extended reality possesses the highest possible
validity. It has the direct guarantee of the Universal Postulate ; and
it assumes the Universal Postulate only once.
This argument is not, as I have shown, a particularly good one ;
but it is quite as good when devoted to proving that colour and exten
sion (which are both, on Mr. Spencer s theory, subjective affections)
are objective realities, as it is when used, as Mr. Spencer uses it, to
prove that an object with (I presume) no knowable qualities, has an
independent existence.
See Essays, vol. iii. p. 286.
CHAP. XL] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 231
detain us long. It consists in the main of a psycho
logical theory of the manner in which we obtain our
ideas of Subject and Object ; and a single quotation
from the summary 1 will be sufficient to show its
general character. * Simply by a process of obser
vation we find, that our states of consciousness
segregate into two independent aggregates, each
held together by some principle of continuity within
it. The principle of continuity forming into a whole
the faint states of consciousness, moulding and
modifying them by some unknown energy, is dis
tinguished as the Ego ; while the Non-ego is the
principle of continuity holding together the inde
pendent aggregate of vivid states. And we find
that while our states of consciousness cohere into
these antithetical aggregates, the experiences gained
by mutual exploration of the limbs, establish such
cohesion, that to the principle of continuity mani
fested in the non-ego there inevitably clings a nascent
consciousness of force, akin to the force evolved by
the principle of continuity in the ego
There are difficulties in this conclusion, as, for
instance, the absence of any reason which should
make us identify ourselves with one of these prin
ciples of continuity rather than with the others ;
and there is also much material for criticism in the
process by which the conclusion is arrived at. 2 But,
1 Psychology , vol. ii. p. 487.
2 Cf. Articles by Professor Green. Contemporary Review, Dec.
1877, March 1878.
232 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
in truth, the whole of this Psychology, be it good or
be it bad, is irrelevant, and irrelevant on Mr. Spencer s
own principles. It is true that he tells us 1 that the
absolute validity of Realism will be shown if we
find it to be a necessary product of thought proceed
ing according to laws that are universal, by which
he means, I suppose, that our warrant for believing
In Realism is the fact that a belief in it is universally
produced by the natural operation of psychological
laws. But this, which is merely an instance of the
persistent error which makes Philosophy dependent
on Psychology, does not, as I understand it, repre
sent Mr. Spencer s more deliberate opinion. The
real warrant on which he believes the * mysterious * 2
fact that we have a consciousness of something
which is out of consciousness, is that he is obliged
to think it : and the three succeeding chapters
therefore of psychological analysis which are de
voted not to showing that he ought to think it,
but to showing how it comes about that he is
obliged to think it discuss a question which even
from his own point of view can have no philosophic
interest whatever. With regard to the warrant
itself, it is the same as that which was discussed at
some length in the last chapter, and no more need
be said about it here. It is the inconceivability
of the negation in a scarcely altered form.
There is only one more point that I feel in-
1 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 445. 2 Ibid. p. 452.
CHAP, xi.] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 233
clined to touch on before we reach the final stage of
the discussion. It is a favourite practice with Mr.
Spencer, whenever he happens to disbelieve a propo
sition, to inform those who do believe it that it can
not be realised in thought. It would be interesting
to know how far he can realise in thought the
4 mysterious fact of a consciousness of something
which is yet out of consciousness ? To ordinary
people it might be open to say that they believed
it, though they could not realise it : but no such
reply seems possible to Mr. Spencer. He is of
opinion that we cannot really believe a proposition
which we cannot think, and that we cannot think
a proposition unless the subject and predicate are
realised in thought. 1 Now a mode of being sepa
rate from myself produces changes in my conscious
states, is one proposition in which I understand
him to believe. This mode of being, since it is
unknown and unknowable, cannot be realised in
thought, is another. If he can believe the first
proposition without its subject being realised in
thought, his general theory of knowledge, and most
of the positive positions contained in the First Prin
ciples 2 must be abandoned. If he cannot believe
it except on those terms, then either he is wrong
when he says he does believe it, or he is wrong when
he supposes that it is incapable of being realised in
thought. He would seem to be in the unfortunate
1 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 445. 2 Ibid. ch. ii.
234 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
position of having devised a theory of knowledge in
the main for the purpose of establishing a realistic
system, and of having devised a realistic system
which is incompatible with his theory of knowledge.
That he is not unaware of the difficulties which
surround a theory according to which we know the
Unknowable, I admit ; for he struggles, not very
successfully, to get over them in his First Prin
ciples? by the help of such metaphorical expressions
as nascent consciousness and raw material of
thought. My complaint is that, holding these
opinions, he considers it a sufficient answer to make
to any belief of which he disapproves that its terms
cannot be realised in thought, or be joined to
gether in consciousness ; though neither Theology
nor Metaphysics contain, so far as I know, any
proposition of which these things can more truly be
said than the propositions respecting the external
world, which Mr. Spencer assures us have the
highest validity possible.
We now come, in chapter the nineteenth and
last, to a more precise account of what this external
world really is. As the reader is already aware,
Mr. Spencer holds, in the first place, that it is
unknown and unknowable ; and, in the second
place, notwithstanding some statements which seem
to assume that it does not vary at all 2 that it
varies in some determinate relation to the known
1 Cf. especially, ch. iv. 2 Cf. ch. ii. 483.
CHAP. XL] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 235
and knowable. The question, therefore, imme
diately suggests itself how we come to have
what Mr. Mills somewhere calls this prodigious
amount of knowledge respecting the Unknowable ?
Grant what Mr. Spencer asks and admit that a
belief in the reality of an independent Universe is
valid what grounds have we for supposing that it
is precisely the kind of universe he postulates and
no other ? Why should it vary in a determinate
relation to phenomena ? Why, indeed, should it
vary at all ?
Perhaps Mr. Spencer will be inclined to say
(though on what grounds I do not know) that, as
the cause of varying effects, the object must itself
vary. But from the preceding chapter 1 on the
Developed Conception of the Object, we have
learned that the object is the principle of con
tinuity, binding together the aggregate of our vivid
states of consciousness. A principle of continuity
is, I should have thought, the unvarying element
in the midst of incessant variations. If it varies
itself, must it not require another principle of con
tinuity to form it, as Mr. Spencer says, 2 * into a
whole ? Furthermore, if the object varies, does
the subject vary ? Mr. Spencer represents the re
lation between the two by a diagram, which he
seems to think affords a complete illustration of it.
It consists of a cube (standing for the Object), a
1 Cf. e. g. p. 487. 2 Psychology, vol. ii. 487.
236 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
cylinder (standing for the Subject), and a reflection
of the cube on the surface of the cylinder (repre
senting our vivid state of consciousness ). In this
case the cube varies, the reflection varies, but the
cylinder does not vary. Are we to regard the
parallel as in this particular accurate ? If so, it
would be interesting to know on what grounds Mr.
Spencer asserts change in one of the unknown
Principles of Continuity/ and denies it in the
other.
Again, there seems some difficulty in under
standing how that which is neither in Space nor
Time can be a cause varying with the Phenomenal
effects which are in Space and Time. Time as we
know it, and Space as we know it, are (it is stated
in the First Principles *) conceptions produced in
us by some mode of the Unknowable. Since, there
fore, we are not to imagine that the Unknowable
is in Time, it does not seem easy to understand how
we can imagine it as capable of change change
having no meaning whatever for us, except in rela
tion to Time.
This criticism suggests the further reflection that
Mr. Spencer s Unknowable is, after all, not identical
with the subject-matter of physical science. Let
us take, for illustration, some simple scientific pro
position ; e.g., * particles of matter vibrating seven
hundred billions of times a second produce in us a
1 Page 165.
CHAP, xi.] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 237
sensation of violet, and consider it in this connec
tion. The particles of matter thus described as
causes must, it is plain, be either in consciousness
or out of it. And it is also plain that they are not
in it, except in the shape of symbolical concepts
belonging to what Mr. Spencer calls the faint ag
gregate of our conscious states ; in which condition
they cannot either be permanent or produce changes
in the vivid aggregate of the kind required. As
causes of sensation, they must therefore exist out of
consciousness ; whence it is evident that they must
either be modes of the unknowable, or else that
something besides the unknowable must exist be
yond consciousness. If Mr. Spencer accepts the
first of these alternatives, I desire to know why he
chooses to describe that which exists beyond con
sciousness as the unknowable, seeing that most of
the knowledge which we possess professes to refer
to it ; if he accepts the second, I desire to know
what proof he can supply of the existence of such a
knowable beyond consciousness at all.
To put the same difficulty in another form.
What Science requires to have proved is the exis
tence of matter, which shall be independent of per
ception and sensation, shall produce perception and
sensation, and shall at the same time possess mass,
solidity, extension, and so forth. Is this matter
Mr. Spencer s unknowable ? We must answer, No.
In the first place because, according to Science, it
238 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
is decidedly knowable ; in the second place, because
Mr. Spencer tells us 1 that the matter which is
* extended and resistent is related to the unknow
able as effect to cause. Is it, then, the knowable ?
Again, we must answer, No ; because, according
to Mr. Spencer, the objective agencies which pro
duce our subjective affections are in themselves
* unknown and unknowable.
Mr. Spencer s elaborate argument is, therefore,
altogether beside the mark. In proving or, I should
rather say, in attempting to prove, the existence of
the unknowable, he has aimed at the wrong object.
The true state of the case is that the external world
required by Science is very much more like that
contemplated in the Crude Realism 2 (as he con
temptuously calls it) of * the child or the rustic than
it is like that propounded by the Transfigural Rea
lism affected by himself. Even admitting, there
fore, that the arguments establishing the latter are
as unanswerable as he supposes them to be, our
philosophic position would not be much improved.
If the scientific creed respecting the external world
be rejected, the unknowable will hardly save us
from scepticism ; while, if the scientific creed be ac
cepted, the unknowable is foredoomed to the same
existence of otium cum dignitate, which, according
to Jacobi, is enjoyed by Kant s thing in itself.
If I rightly understand the line of thought taken
1 First Principles, pp. 166, 167. 2 Psychology, vol. ii. p. 452.
CHAP. XL] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 239
up in the First Principles? Mr. Spencer would reply
to this by saying that matter as known to us, and as
dealt with by Science, may be regarded as permanent
and independent because it is the effect of the un
knowable cause which is permanent and independent.
But, according to Mr. Spencer s doctrines, the only
effects of the unknowable of which we have imme
diate knowledge consist of subjective affections/
which are neither permanent nor independent. These
are not the subject-matter of physical science. When
a Physicist asserts that vibrating molecules produce
the sensation of violet light, he means that certain
material particles which are not, which never have
been, and which never will be in (human) conscious
ness, and which would vibrate precisely as they are
doing now if (human) consciousness was destroyed,
produce certain conscious phenomena. What Mr.
Spencer must think that they ought to mean by the
assertion is, that a mode of the unknowable which is
symbolised (and, so far as I can see, quite arbitrarily
symbolised) by the member of the faint aggregate
of our conscious state known as the concept of a
vibrating particle, is the producing cause of a
member of the vivid aggregate known as the sensa
tion of violet light. No verbal contrivance can bridge
over the discrepancy between two statements, one
of which says that the cause of a phenomenon is a
vibrating material particle, and the other that it is
1 First Principles , p. 158.
2 4 o A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART n.
an entity possessing none of the attributes of matter,
and which, since it is neither in space nor time, must
be incapable of vibration. These are propositions
which assert different things, and not merely the
same thing in different language, so that Mr. Spencer,
even if he had proved the truth of the second, would
have done nothing towards establishing a realism
such as is required by current scientific doctrines.
1 The final remark to be made, says Mr. Spencer, 1
is that Anti- Realistic beliefs have never been held
at all Berkeley was not an Idealist
Nor was Kant a Kantist. Nor, I will venture to
add, is Mr. Spencer a Transfigured-Realist. With
out doubt the natural beliefs which in his ordinary
moments hold a not less undisputed sway over the
philosopher than they do over the child or the
rustic/ will be as victorious against Mr. Spencer s
doctrines as they are against those of any of the
metaphysicians whom he accuses of losing them
selves in the mazes of verbal propositions. 2 On
the whole, indeed, he is less fortunate than they.
For it is his singular ill fortune to have failed with
entire completeness in all the objects which a man
may propose to himself in constructing a theory of
the external world. Some may wish to justify the
common sense of mankind, some to justify the
teachings of Science, some to prove the being of
a God, some to give free rein to speculation with
out any secondary object. It was reserved for
1 Psychology^ vol. ii. p. 500. 2 Ibid.
CHAP. XL] MR. SPENCER S PROOF OF REALISM. 241
Mr. Spencer to elaborate a theory which can pre
tend to justify the assumption neither of the man
of science nor of the theologian, and which will
satisfy the requirements neither of the ordinary man
nor of the philosopher.
Looking back over the nineteen chapters we
have been considering, and over the earlier half of
the First Principles, it is impossible not to regret
that the ambition to produce a System of Phi
losophy should have forced our author into paths
where his remarkable powers of mind show to com-
paratively small advantage. Could he have been
content with giving to the world Suggestions to
wards a theory of the Universe on the basis of the
ordinary scientific postulates/ his astonishing faculty
for collecting from every department of knowledge
the facts which seem to tell in his favour would have
had free scope, while his somewhat blunted sensi
bility in the matter of difficulties and contradictions
might have been of actual advantage. In trespassing
on metaphysical ground, the virtues which he pos
sesses as a thinker his extraordinary range of in
formation and his ingenuity in framing original and
suggestive hypotheses become comparatively use
less, while the robust faith in his method and results
by which he is animated, necessary as I admit it to
be in order that he may be sustained through his
protracted labours is from a speculative point of
view an almost unmixed evil.
R
242 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART in.
PART III.
CHAPTER XII.
SCIENCE AS A LOGICAL SYSTEM.
THE reader will recollect that the only quality of ob-
jects for the existence of which in the first instance
we required proof was their persistence. In point
of fact no philosopher has set himself to prove this
without at the same time attempting to prove much
more, and as a necessary result, the foregoing exami
nation of realistic systems has contained allusions,
more or less frequent, to other and equally essential
attributes of what is called the external world.
It is now time to desert the philosophers, and to
say a few words about this external world, as it is
dealt with by Science not for the purpose of deter
mining how far Science is justified in assuming its
reality, for this question has been already discussed,
but in order to obtain some idea of the general
character of the existing scientific system regarded
as a logical whole.
Granting, then, the reality of an external world,
let us ask, in the first place, what is its real nature
according to modern scientific teaching ?
CHAP. XIL] SCIENCE A S A LOGICAL SYSTEM. 243
Speaking generally, it consists, we are told, of
atoms possessing mass, chemical affinity, and other
qualities ; and of a universally diffused medium, called
ether, which, by means of certain very singular pro
perties, transmits through space certain vibrations by
which these atoms are affected.
Associated together by various laws in various
groups, these atoms constitute the solid, liquid, and
gaseous bodies scattered through space ; from among
the infinite number of which there is to each man
assigned one of especial importance to himself; I
mean his own organism, The very interesting class
of objects to which these belong, do not differ from
the rest of the material universe in the nature of
their ultimate composition, In many other most im
portant respects no doubt they do differ. But the
peculiarity about them with which at this moment
we are specially concerned is the fact, that they are
the immediate channels of communication between
the world I have just described, and the thinking
beings who by their means are made acquainted
directly with the appearance of that world, and in
directly with its true nature and constitution.
Before going further in the consideration of the
general system of Science, it may be as well to remind
the reader how unlike the world just described is to
the world which we actually perceive, or can repre
sent by an effort of the imagination. I do not of
course mean to say that the world of perception and
R 2
244 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART in.
the world of science are numerically distinct. This
is evidently not so. When astronomers talk of the
moon, they mean the moon we see ; when chemists
talk of elementary substances, they mean things
we can touch and handle. But when they go on to
tell us about the intimate structure of these bodies
they are soon compelled to use words which have
only a symbolic meaning, and to refer to objects
which (it may be) can be thought, but which cer
tainly cannot in their real nature be either perceived
or imagined.
That knowledge or what passes for knowledge
soon gets in this way beyond the data of perception
and the powers of imagination, is a fact which comes
to the surface more prominently in Theology perhaps
than in Science. I am not aware that this is because
there is any essential philosophic difference between
these two great departments of knowledge. It
arises rather from the fact that, for controversial pur
poses, it has been found convenient to dwell on the
circumstance that our idea of the Deity is to a certain
extent necessarily anthropomorphic, while the no less
certain, if somewhat less obvious, truth that our idea
of the external world is also anthropomorphic, does
not supply any ready argumentative weapon.
There are, however, further reasons why this side
of the case has not received so much attention as the
other. One of them is, I think, that any person
speculating on this subject is apt to slide away from
CHAP, xii.] SCIENCE AS A LOGICAL SYSTEM. 245
it into the allied but altogether distinct questions
concerning Realism and Idealism. These are prob
lems, however, the solution of which has no direct
bearing upon the subject we are now discussing.
Whether Realism or Idealism be true, whether
either of them or both of them are consistent with
Science, this broad fact remains, that the world as
represented to us by Science can no more be per
ceived or imagined than the Deity as represented to
us by Theology, and that in the first case, as in the
second, we must content ourselves with symbolical
images, of which the thing we can most certainly say
is that they are not only inadequate but incorrect.
This is not an assertion which in reality requires
much argument to support it. Its truth is apparent
on simple inspection, and it applies equally to the
two main constituents of the external world to
Matter as well as to Force.
To begin with the latter. Force according to
Science is the cause of all motion, and its amount in
any case is measured by the amount of motion it
produces or can produce in a given time. Now, it
is evident that we come most closely into contact
(so to speak) with Force, either when we see one
body foreign to ourselves exercising force upon
another, as for example, a locomotive engine pulling
a coal waggon, or when we feel pressure between our
bodies and some foreign substance that, for ex
ample, produced by a tight boot (this pressure not
246 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART m.
being the result of energy supplied by our bodies), or
when we exercise effort so as to produce pressure
between our bodies and some foreign substance, for
example, by raising a weight ; which pressure is the
result of energy supplied by our bodies. If we can
not perceive force in one at least of these cases, we
cannot, I apprehend, perceive it at all ; and if we
cannot perceive it at all, it will probably be admitted
that our ideas respecting it must be purely anthropo
morphic, and only symbolical of the reality.
Without wearying the reader by examining these
three cases in detail, it may be assumed, I imagine,
without further discussion that, as a matter of fact,
our idea of force is derived in the last resort entirely
from the second and third : so that if we had never
either felt pressure or exercised muscular effort, we
should be altogether unable to frame a mental
image which should in any way correspond with the
subject-matter of dynamics. Does the idea so de
rived correspond with the reality ? The common
opinion seems to be that, though it only symbolises
the force which acts between inanimate bodies, it
resembles the force which . is exerted by, or acts on,
living organisms. But this, I apprehend, is incorrect.
There can be no resemblance between the mental
images, whether of pressure or of effort, and that
external and independent force which they are em
ployed to represent. Why should the feeling (said
to be) of pressure be like the pressure which pro-
CHAP. XIL] SCIENCE AS A LOGICAL SYSTEM. 247
duces it ? It is not force, it is one of the effects of
force acting on our organism : it does not even vary
directly with the force which produces it, but de
pends on the part of the body affected and on other
circumstances. Neither is the feeling of muscular
effort, Force ; it is rather one of the mental accom
paniments of muscular action when that action is set
going by the Will. I do not even see how it can be
accurately called a cause of Force : but without going
into this question, which is not material to my argu
ment, it seems certain that whether it be cause or
merely accompaniment, it must at all events be dis
tinct from that which it causes or accompanies.
If then we try and represent to ourselves in
imagination the reality which is expressed by this
assertion, the inkstand presses on the table with a
force of two pounds/ our idea of what is taking place,
if we form such an idea at all, will in all probability
be entirely false for two separate reasons. In the
first place, we shall introduce notions of pressure and
muscular effort, which have no imaginable meaning
for us, except as affections of a living organism, into
the relation which exists between portions of inani
mate matter : and secondly, we shall deal with feel
ings of pressure and muscular effort as if they were
force, or, at all events, resembled force, instead of
being only now and then related to force, as causes,
as effects, or as accompaniments.
If now from Force we turn to Matter, we find
248 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART in.
somewhat similar limits fixed to our powers of imagi
nation. It is true that we find no difficulty in form
ing an idea of matter as matter appears to us ; while
in the case of force, since it never appears to us, we
cannot even do this much. But if, instead of framing
an idea of matter as we perceive it, we try to frame
an idea of it as Science assures us that it really is,
we soon become conscious that we are attempting
an impossibility. Of this impossibility there are two
kinds or degrees. In some cases, for example, we
may be convinced that Matter has certain qualities,
because we observe effects which require an hypo
thesis of this kind in order to account for them. But
as to what these qualities may be, apart from their
effects, we not only cannot imagine, but we do not even
know how to try and imagine. We have nothing to
go upon. Our senses and our reason alike fail us ;
and it would be more accurate perhaps to say that we
have no ideas corresponding to them at all than to
say that our ideas of them are anthropomorphic.
What, for example, is chemical affinity ? What is
the real nature of the change which takes place in a
copper wire when an electric current passes along
it ? What is magnetism ? Science has at present
no certain answer to give to these questions : but
there are other questions respecting matter to which
the true answers are known with a considerable
degree of scientific probability, though at the same
time they carry us not the less into regions where
CHAP, xii.] SCIENCE AS A LOGICAL SYSTEM. 249
the imagination is unable to follow them. For ex
ample, we are required to believe (no doubt on
excellent grounds) that the sensation of coloured
light is produced by material particles vibrating with
a certain rapidity, and that the varieties of colour are
the result of differences in the rapidity and combina
tions of these vibrations when they reach the eye.
It is a necessary consequence of this doctrine, that
the vibrating particles must themselves be regarded
as having no colour : their colour being merely the
effect produced on our particular organism by their
rapid periodic motion acting through space by means
of the diffused ether. But the smallest trial is
sufficient to convince us that to represent in imagi
nation uncoloured vibrating atoms is a task alto
gether beyond our powers. The other senses, touch
or the muscular sense, through which we acquire a
knowledge of material objects, are altogether incapa
ble of supplying the elements necessary for such a
purpose, at least they are so with me ; and it is of
course impossible to bring in the sense of sight to
their assistance without at the same time representing
as coloured the things we are attempting to imagine.
There is no similar difficulty in the parallel case of
heat. Heat, no less than light, exists in the material
world as a mode of motion. Yet it is easy to sepa
rate in idea the vibrating particles from the sensation
of warmth, and to consider one as the cause of the
other. We are not compelled, as in the case of
250 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART in.
light, by the laws of imagination, to confound the
effect with the cause before we can picture to our
selves the cause of all.
This particular weakness or defect in our power
of representation affects, it will be observed, our
ideas of the whole material universe. There is not
a single particle of Matter which we can either per
ceive or picture to ourselves as it really exists : and
as a similar assertion can, as I have shown, be made
about Force ; and as it can be made with still more
obvious truth about the more occult kinds or proper
ties of external objects (ether, magnetism, and so
forth), I think I may consider the thesis which in
this long digression I set out to prove, as sufficiently
established.
Let us now return to the proper subject of the
present chapter, namely, Science considered in its
most general aspect as a Logical System. We have
seen what, according to scientific teaching, is the
real nature of the external world (as for convenience
I here call it) ; and we have seen that as it really
is, it can neither be perceived nor imagined. It is
easy to conclude from this, what indeed is patent to
everybody, that we arrive at our actual knowledge of
its real nature, not immediately, but by a process of
inference. That material objects consist of minute
particles ; that colour is the effect of the vibration of
these particles ; that these vibrations are transmitted
as through an elastic and imponderable medium ;
CHAP. xii. | SCIENCE AS A LOGICAL SYSTEM. 251
that, in short, the world is what it is, are truths which,
far from being intuitive, must be considered as the
most refined deductions, as the latest triumphs, of
scientific investigation.
What, then, are these deductions founded on ?
Men of science, who should be authorities on this
point, inform us that they are founded on facts
obtained by direct observation ; and that the facts
obtained by direct observation consist of what we
can perceive of the qualities and behaviour of
objects whose persistence, for the sake of argument,
we are agreed to assume. In other words, our settled
view of the universe is inferred from what we know
of it immediately ; and what we know of it imme
diately is its appearance.
Now the singular thing about this sort of reason
ing is, that unless the premises be true, there seems
no particular ground for accepting the conclusion ;
while if the conclusion be accepted, it is evident that
the premises cannot be entirely true. Unless ap
pearances are to be trusted, why should we believe
in Science ? If Science is true, how can we trust to
appearances ?
From the scientific point of view it may possibly be
replied, that our immediate knowledge of the external
world is in part to be trusted but only in part. We
know by direct observation and know truly of the
existence of extended, resisting, and moving bodies ;
and we know, by a process of scientific inference, that
252 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART in.
the qualities of colour and so forth, which these
extended, resisting, and moving bodies appear to
possess, are really the subjective effects of the inter
action between them and our organism. So that
Science may be said to provide us with a criterion
by which we may distinguish between that which
both seems to be and is, and that which seems to be,
but is not.
Now that we do in practice so use Science to
enable us to distinguish between reality and ap
pearance, is undoubtedly the fact. But taken by
itself, this circumstance affords no real solution of
the difficulty, because the very thing we want more
particularly to know is, how we can thus legitimately
erect Science into a judge of its own cause.
The precise question which has to be answered,
and the insufficiency of this, the first and most
natural answer to it, will become obvious to anyone
who reflects on the following series of propositions,
which extend and define the argument, whose out
line I have just indicated :
i st. Scientific knowledge which is not imme
diate is derived by inference from the immediate
knowledge furnished by observations of the external
world. (This I apprehend is the view ordinarily
taken by men of science.)
2nd. Observations of the external world assure
us (if they assure us of anything) that bodies exist
which are coloured, extended, resisting, and so forth.
CHAP, xii.] SCIENCE AS A LOGICAL SYSTEM. 253
3rd. The assurance we obtain by pure observa
tion that bodies are coloured, is of precisely the
same kind as is the assurance we obtain from the
same source, that they are extended and resisting.
(That this is so cannot of course be proved, but will
be evident to everybody on reflection.)
4th. While pure observation shows this, in
ferences professing to be derived in the main from
pure observation show us that bodies are not coloured,
but that the appearance of colour is produced by
motions or other changes in the uncoloured particles
composing the object perceived and the organism of
the percipient. (This must be admitted if Science is
true, and if it is derived from observation.)
5th. From this it follows that some of the im
mediate knowledge given in observation is untrust
worthy.
6th. According to (4) there is nothing in the
observations themselves to suggest any principle of
distinction between those which, according to Science
arc, and those which are not, trustworthy.
7. Neither is it possible that such a principle of
distinction should be furnished by Science, since it is
only if the principle of distinction be sound that
Science is logically justified. It is not admissible to
make Science depend on the principle (whatever it
may be), at the same time that we make the principle
depend upon Science.
Stated in this form, the exact nature of the diffi-
254 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART in.
culty I wish to point out becomes evident ; and if it
is not one that forces itself readily on the attention,
this is because it does not attach to the received
theory of the causal origin of our knowledge of the
material world (which is the one that habitually
regulates our thoughts), but only to the theory of the
logical deduction of scientific doctrine from empirical
data, which is not a subject with which we are usually
much concerned. Let me explain. When we are
occupied with the consideration of how we come to
possess the knowledge we have of the external world,
if we are in a scientific rather than, in a metaphysical
humour, we immediately and naturally look at the
question from the point of view of the physiology of
perception ; and the physiology of perception, in its
most general form, teaches us this that the imme
diate antecedent to an act of perception is some
definite change in the organism of the percipient ;
and that if this change occurs, no matter how it is
originated, the particular perception corresponding
to it will occur likewise. Now the same kind of
change may at different times have different sets of
causes. If on any given occasion one of the proxi
mate causes of the physiological change producing
the perception is the thing perceived, then percep
tion is said to be normal. If, on the other hand, the
thing perceived is not one of the proximate causes
of the physiological change, then we are said to be
deceived by an illusion of the senses. Supposing, for
CHAP. XIL] SCIENCE AS A LOGICAL SYSTEM. 255
example, that I see the moon when she is actually in
the field of view, and her rays are striking on my
retina, then the object seen is one of the causes of my
seeing it, and the immediate knowledge conveyed to
me in that act of perception is so far accurate. But if
(to take the opposite case), I see a ghost, then, on the
supposition that there are no such things, I am
suffering under an optical delusion, since, whatever
may be the causes of the physiological change which
results in that act of perception, it cannot at all
events be the object perceived, which by hypothesis
has no existence.
This is the physiological theory of perception
looked at from its causal or physical side. Looked
at from its cognitive or mental side, it suggests the
idea that there is, on the one hand, a Material Uni
verse, and on the other a Mind ; and that the Mind
obtains its information respecting the Material Uni
verse by looking at it through the medium of the
five senses, a medium which altogether excludes a
great deal, and distorts much of what it allows to
pass. I am not here pretending to criticise this
theory. In common with most theories which give
an account of the origin of knowledge, it has a logical
defect, which I shall attempt to explain in the next
chapter. It has also, no doubt, philosophical diffi
culties peculiar to itself. But what I am concerned
to show here is, that so far from presenting any diffi
culties in the way of a belief according to which a
256 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART in.
distinction is made between what appears and what
is, it actually suggests such a belief ; and that there
fore it is not surprising that since we habitually think
in terms (so to speak) of this theory, we should be
little troubled by the discrepancy I have shown to
exist between the empirical premises of Science and
its received conclusions.
It has been already pointed out that this dis
crepancy cannot be smoothed away by any prin
ciple supplied by Science itself, except at the cost of
arguing in a circle. But it may perhaps be thought
that the whole scientific doctrine of matter, and of
the methods by which the properties of matter be
come known to us, may be legitimately put forward
as a hypothesis, and may be capable of verification,
like other hypotheses, by an appeal to experience ;
and that in this way the objection I have been urging
may be successfully evaded.
Let me consider the subject for a moment from
this point of view. The reasoning to which I object
asserts that the laws governing material phenomena
are inferred from the immediate knowledge of matter
given in perception, and at the same time that the
laws so inferred show this knowledge to be in certain
particulars incorrect. The reasoning which it is
proposed to substitute for this asserts that some at
least of the laws governing material phenomena, and
more especially those which are included in the
physiological theory of perception, are not inferred
from the knowledge given in perception, but are
CHAP, xii.] SCIENCE AS A LOGICAL SYSTEM. 257
adopted as a hypothesis to account for the fact, that
such and such perceptions exist, a function which
they perform so successfully that they may be ac
cepted as to all intents and purposes demonstrated
truths.
This mode of establishing the laws of matter is
identical in its general scope with that adopted by
certain philosophers to prove the reality of the ex
ternal world ; although the difficulty which suggests
its adoption is different in the two cases. The phi
losophers of whom I speak were of opinion that we
could perceive nothing beyond our own ideas, and
they sought to avoid an idealistic conclusion by
supposing that an objective cause was required to
account for the fact that our ideas exist. The
scientific argument, on the other hand, with which I
am at present concerned; is not put forward in order
to avoid a psychological difficulty, but a logical one*
It is not required because introspective analysis
shows this thing or that thing respecting the true
nature of perception, but because the conclusions of
Science, if made to depend solely on the immediate
knowledge given in perception, do not, as a matter
of fact, harmonise with their premises.
Now, in order to estimate properly the value of
the argument by which this difficulty is sought to be
evaded, we must ignore the information given im
mediately by perception respecting the nature of the
external causes by which perception is produced.
s
258 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART HI.
This is evident, because the difficulty itself arose
from our attempting to rest scientific doctrine on
this information.
We are expected, then, to found a theory re
specting the true nature of these external causes
solely on the fact that their effects, i.e., our percep
tions, are of such and such a character. Now this
undertaking we may, I think, boldly assert to be
impossible ; and if there is any doubt about the
matter, it may be set at rest by this single consider
ation, that if two causes capable of producing the
effect to be accounted for (namely, our perceptions),
be suggested, there is no possible way of deciding
between them. Supposing, for example (to revive
an old speculation), it was maintained that it is not
matter possessed of certain properties which is the
required cause, but the Deity acting directly on our
minds. What reply could be made to such a sup
position ? The immediate answer that rises to our
lips is, that we know that matter exists, and that we
have no such knowledge about the Deity. But how
do we know that matter exists ? Because we per
ceive it ? This source of knowledge is excluded by
hypothesis : nor can I imagine any other, of an
empirical kind, except the one we are at the moment
discussing. It must further be recollected that we
have no reason to suppose that the limits of imagin
ation represent on this subject the limits of possi
bility. Nor is it practicable, as I pointed out in the
chapter on Historical Inference, by the mere con-
CHAP. XIL] SCIENCE AS A LOGICAL SYSTEM. 259
templation of an effect (and it is to this that we are
in the present case restricted) to discover all the
causes by which it might conceivably have been
produced, or to determine which of these possible
causes, known or unknown, actually produced it.
If, then, we cannot argue from the mere fact that
perceptions exist to the fact that material objects
corresponding to them exist, neither is it possible to
argue from the fact that these perceptions are of
such and such a kind, to the fact that the objects
perceived have such and such qualities.
Before concluding this section, let me point out
what it is that I have not attempted to do in this
last argumentative portion of it. I have not in any
way been concerned with theories respecting the
real constitution of matter based on metaphysical
speculation, nor has any part of the reasoning de
pended on the truth of a particular doctrine of per
ception. I have simply assumed that, if as we are
told Science is founded upon experience, it must be
founded on experience of one of two kinds : either
upon that experience which may be described as
the immediate knowledge of objects given in per
ception, or else upon the experience which is nothing
else than our knowledge of the fact that we have
such and such perceptions. On the first of these
assumptions, I pointed out that the conclusions of
Science contradicted its premises ; on the second, I
showed that Science could draw no conclusions at all.
S 2
2 6o A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART HI.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE EVOLUTION OF BELIEFS
EVER since there has been speculation on the subject
of varieties of opinion, this fact must have been
obvious, that a man s beliefs are very much the
results of antecedents and surroundings with which
they have no proper logical connection. That the
sons of Christians are much more often Christians,
and the sons of Mahommedans much more often
Mahommedans, that a man more commonly holds
the opinions of those with whom he lives, and more
commonly trusts the policy of the party with whom
he acts, than on the theory of probability could
happen supposing that conviction was in all cases
the result of an impartial comparison of evidence,
must always have been plain to the most careless
observer. It other words, it must always have been
known that there were causes of belief which were
not reasons.
The progress of knowledge has not led us to
increase, but rather to diminish, our estimate of the
1 The substance of this chapter appeared originally in the Fort
nightly Review of 1877, P- 698. I have attempted to cure the ob
scurity which some of my friends professed to find in it, at the cost of
a little amplification, and I fear a certain amount of repetition.
CHAP. XIIL] THE EVOLUTION O F BELIEF. 261
part which reasons as opposed to other causes have
played in the formation of creeds ; for it has shown
us that these reasons are themselves the result of
non-rational antecedents, so that even when a man
attempts to form opinions only according to evi
dence, what he shall regard as evidence is settled for
him by causes over which he has no more control
than he has over the natural forces by which a par
ticular flora is produced at any particular place and
time.
The scientific evidence for this truth is various
and overwhelming. It is justified a posteriori with
regard to individuals by common observation, with
regard to races by every improvement in our his
toric method and every addition to our historic
knowledge. Physiology shows it a priori by de
monstrating the dependence of thought on the
organism, and of the organism on inheritance and
environment, while finally evolution binds up these
detached lines of proof into an imposing and organic
whole.
But though, in the face of such evidence, nobody
doubts the fact, few people, I should think, contem
plate it habitually without now and then suffering
under a sort of sceptical uneasiness (if I may so
express myself), when they consider its bearing on
their own opinions. The multitude of beliefs which,
in obedience to a mechanic and inevitable law, sway
for a time the minds and actions of men, and are
2 6 2 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART in.
then for ever swept away to the forgotten past,
giving place to others, as firmly trusted in, as false,
and as transitory as themselves, form a spectacle
which is not only somewhat melancholy in itself, but
which is apt to suggest uncomfortable reflections as
to the permanent character of the convictions we
ourselves happen to be attached to. If, indeed, the
law obeyed by this intellectual dissolving view
applied only to savages, or to the people with whose
opinions we disagreed, we might perhaps contem
plate its action with a merely speculative interest.
Unfortunately, however, this is not so. We are all
involved in its operations, from the most ignorant
barbarian to the most advanced thinker. The ex
istence of Comtism is explained by it not less than
that of fetichism, it accounts for theories of Evolution
not less than for Hindoo cosmogonies, and the man
of science is as certainly under its control as was the
Indian whose superstitions he is making the subject
of analysis and classification.
But if these things be so, wherein lies our
defence against universal scepticism ? It is true
that we hear on all sides of the progress of know
ledge, that we imagine science to be as it were a
fabric of which each generation lays a tier, resting
upon that which was laid by its predecessors, and
serving for a foundation for that which will be laid
by its successors. But after all, this metaphor only
represents an opinion like other opinions. It is the
CHAP, xiii.] THE EVOLUTION OF BELIEF. 263
belief of an optimistic ago, which may seem to future
generations no more than a transitory fashion. The
last ground of faith seems cut away from beneath our
feet, if no belief is left which can be trusted suffi
ciently for us to use it as a criterion of immutable
truth ; and if our creed be the mere product of
irrational law, where is such a belief to be found ?
A train of thought not unlike this must, I should
imagine, have been sometimes started in the mind of
the reader when he reflects on the evolution of
opinion. I propose in this chapter to put in a clear
form what I conceive to be the really solid element
in such sceptical, if somewhat vague, speculations.
The case may be stated thus : Since all beliefs
are caused, it follows that those fundamental beliefs
must be caused which lie at the root of all other
beliefs, and which are, as I explained in the first
chapter, the rational ground on which we hold them.
Now these fundamental beliefs, being the ultimate
premises of all knowledge, are themselves, of course,
incapable of proof. So that while they resemble
other beliefs in being caused, they differ from them
in this, that the causes by which they are produced
are of necessity, and from the very nature of the
case, always non-rational. In ordinary life, when
we perceive a non-rational cause for any opinion, as
for instance party feeling, or self-interest, or special
education, it makes us examine such reasons as there
may be for it with more jealous minuteness. In
264 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART HI.
contrast to this, it is curious and interesting to note
that the only beliefs of which, according to received
scientific theories, we may say with certainty that
they can have no reason, but must have non-rational
causes, are those on which the certitude of all other
beliefs finally rests. The upholders, however, of the
current theory of Evolution are so far from finding
any difficulty here, that they even refer triumphantly
to this theory of non-rational causation, as supplying
a basis of philosophical certitude to these funda
mental beliefs. They hold that though all opinion
is the product of natural forces, the general tendency
of those forces is gradually to make opinion approxi
mate to truth ; that in particular the opinions which
are commonly regarded as self-evident and known
by intuition are really the result of reiterated and
uncontradicted experience acting on successive
generations ; and that this theory of their origin
supplies a philosophic justification for believing them
to be true.
This line of reasoning, however, involves a mani
fest argument in a circle. It cannot be that this
interaction between organism and environment is a
reason for believing any proposition to be true which
is required to prove that interaction. Or (to put it
more generally) no argument in favour of a system of
beliefs can be drawn from the fact that, according to
that system, its fundamental beliefs would be true.
From Evolution, then, no argument can be drawn
CHAP, xiii.] THE EVOLUTION OF BELIEF. 265
in favour of any scientific axiom. It remains to be
seen whether that theory has any less negative
bearing on the philosophy of belief.
Now the theory asserts this All phenomena
whatever are evolved by regular laws and groups
of laws from the phenomena next preceding them
in time. Among other phenomena, beliefs ; among
other beliefs, fundamental beliefs. All beliefs what
ever being caused, the question arises, Is there any
thing in the nature of the laws according to which
they are caused which should make them true ? To
which an evolutionist would probably reply that
there is, and would mention those causes to which
allusion has already been made, whose tendency is
gradually to make belief correspond with fact.
Then (we may further ask) are these causes of such
a nature as to make all beliefs true ?
This question must undoubtedly be answered in
the negative. If any result of observation and
experiment is certain, this one is so that many
erroneous beliefs have existed, and do exist in the
world ; so that whatever causes there may be in
operation by which true beliefs are promoted, they
must be either limited in their operation, or be
counteracted by other causes of an opposite ten
dency. Have we then any reason to suppose that
fundamental beliefs are specially subject to these
truth-producing influences, or specially exempt from
causes of error ? This question, I apprehend, must
2 66 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART in.
be answered in the negative. At first sight, indeed,
it would seem as if those beliefs were specially pro
tected from error which are the results of legitimate
reasoning. But legitimate reasoning is only a pro
tection against error if it proceeds from true pre
mises, and it is clear that this particular protection
the premises of all reasoning never can possess.
Have they, then, any other ? Except the ten
dency above mentioned, I must confess myself un
able to see that they have ; so that our position (as
evolutionists) is this From certain ultimate beliefs
we infer that an order of things exists by which all
beliefs, and therefore all ultimate beliefs, are pro
duced, but according to which any particular belief,
and therefore any particular ultimate belief, must be
doubtful. Now this is a position which is self-
destructive. No system of beliefs, giving an account
of the origin of fundamental beliefs, can be consistent
unless those fundamental beliefs are as certain when
regarded as the result of antecedent causes, as they
are when regarded as the ground of our belief in the
existence and operation of those causes. It does
not follow (as I pointed out by implication above)
that if, according to the account of their origin given
by the system, those fundamental beliefs are true,
that therefore they are true ; for the truth of the
system is an inference from these beliefs, and cannot
therefore prove them. What does follow is, that the
system has one of the negative conditions of truth,
CHAP, xiii.] THE EVOLUTION OF BELIEF. 267
and is (so far at least as this matter is concerned)
consistent with itself.
To this criticism it may perhaps be replied, that
there is no contradiction involved in considering a
proposition from two points of view from one of
which it seems certain, and from the other doubtful.
It happens every day in dealing with statements
which are. established by pieces of evidence of very
different degrees of cogency. For example, the fact
that the three angles of a triangle are invariably equal
to two right angles would be doubtful if we had no
better means of demonstrating it than the employ
ment of a pair of compasses. Geometrical proof, on
the other hand, makes it absolutely certain. "Will
it be maintained that such an inconsistency, if it can
be called so, suggests any sceptical conclusion ?
Assuredly not. But there is no parallelism be
tween the two cases. Ultimate premises are not
shown to be merely probable by one set of proofs,
and shown to be certain by another. They are not
shown to be certain at all. They are assumed to be
so : and the first stage of the difficulty arises from
the fact that while they are assumed without evi
dence to be certain, the evidence we possess as to
their origin shows that they are not certain.
If this were all, however, the difficulty would be
a slight one. We should merely have to modify our
original position, and concede to the sceptic that the
assurance we possessed respecting the validity of
268 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART in.
our ultimate premises was not quite so strong as we
had supposed. It is at the next stage that the real
difficulty arises, when we consider the fact that our
whole ground for thinking these ultimate premises
doubtful is founded in the last resort upon their cer
tainty. This is a manifest flaw or defect, which
must be fatal to the validity of any system from
which it cannot be removed.
The difficulty only arises, it may be observed,
when we are considering our own beliefs. If I am con
sidering the beliefs of some other person say of some
mediaeval divine there is no reason why I should
regard them as anything but the results of his time
and circumstances. I observe that he lived in such
a country, fell under the influence of such and such
teachers, came across such and such incidents, and
then I infer, with much self-contentment, that his
beliefs could not have been other than they were. I
may even pay them the compliment of pointing out
that they form a necessary stage in the general
evolution of humanity. But when I come to con
sider my own beliefs "as a stage in the general
evolution of humanity, then there emerges the con
tradiction mentioned above. If they represent such
a stage, all of them may be, and many of them must
be, false. Why not the particular belief in Evo
lution ? Because it is scientifically demonstrated ?
This only removes the difficulty a stage further
back. It must be demonstrated ultimately from
CHAP. XIIL] THE EVOLUTION OF BELIEF. 269
something which is not demonstrated : and these
undemonstrated beliefs are necessarily rendered
doubtful by the reflection that they form part of the
stage in the evolution of humanity.
* But if this is all, the advocates of Evolution
may be inclined to reply, you have proved nothing
more than we are quite prepared to grant. We
concede, without difficulty, that our theory is not at
present rigorously certain ; and even that it can
never become so. You have shown that doubt
must always attach to our original data ; we will go
further, and admit that error may always creep into
our most careful deductions. But this only shows
what nobody ever disputed that we must content
ourselves in science, as in everything else, with some
thing short of rigorous demonstration. Unless you
can show us that our system has some other defect,
not necessarily incident to the work of fallible man,
your arguments will be wasted on people who in the
main agree with you. I reply that I can show that
it has some other defect ; and the defect is this : If
we suppose Evolution to become what every evolu
tionist must wish it to be though he may admit
that it is not namely, a solid piece of demonstra
tion resting on axiomatic premises, from that mo
ment it becomes self-contradictory. It is impossible
as soon as it is certain ; because, by the very fact of
its becoming certain, we obtain demonstrative proof
that the premises of the system, and therefore the
2 yo A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART in.
system itself, is uncertain. A system of which this
can be said is not merely doubtful, it is incoherent.
The precise nature of this objection will perhaps
be more clear if, instead of being put in this its most
abstract and general form, a concrete example of it
is taken.
We may suppose, then, a conversation between
an Evolutionist and an Enquirer, in which, when
the former has explained in the usual ways how
human beliefs, after passing through infinite grada
tions of diminishing error, have at length reached
the highest development they are now capable of in
the opinion he himself professes, the Enquirer con
tinues the dialogue by asking
Enq. Do you suppose that this development of
beliefs has now reached its limits, or do you antici
pate as great a change in the future as has occurred
in the past ?
EvL However great the superiority of my
views may be over those of my remote ancestors,
or indeed over those of my contemporaries who are
still under the influence of tradition, there is every
reason to suppose that the causes which have pro
duced this superiority are still in operation, and that
we may look forward to a time when the opinion of
mankind will bear the same relation to ours as ours
bear to those of primitive man.
Enq. A glorious hope ! One, nevertheless,
which would seem to imply that many of our pre-
CHAP, xin.] THE EVOLUTION OF BELIEF. 271
sent views are either entirely wrong, or will require
profound modification.
EvL Doubtless.
Enq. It would be interesting to know which of
our opinions, or which class of them, is likely to be
improved in this way off the face of the earth. For
example, is the opinion you have just expressed,
that beliefs are developed according to law is that
opinion likely to be destroyed by development ?
EvL To answer your question in the affirma
tive would appear to involve a contradiction. If (as
we assume) development is truthwards, it is impos
sible that development should produce a disbelief in
development,
Enq. I understand you to hold then that a
belief in development is true, and therefore indestruc
tible, and that in this it differs from many of our
other beliefs, of which we cannot, unfortunately, say
the same. It would be important to know the
grounds of this distinction, in order that we might
see how far it was capable of general application.
Evl. Evolution is a theory arrived at by re
ceived scientific methods. Doubtless, all results of
which the same may be said are equally true, and
will be equally permanent.
Enq. You talk of scientific methods but a
method must proceed on a principle or principles.
How do you get at these ?
Evl. The principles you speak of are, I sup-
272 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART in.
pose, the assumptions which every one must start
from, who expects to make any progress in know
ledge.
Enq. These assumptions, as I understand you,
are what render a scientific method possible They
cannot, therefore, be arrived at by a scientific
method, nor can they belong to that class of beliefs
which, as you just pointed out, the progress of evo
lution will leave uninjured.
Ei} I, Still you must assume something.
Enq. But the difficulty here, as it seems to me,
is, that if you start from your idea of evolution, these
assumptions, like all other beliefs not arrived at by
received scientific methods, are, or may be, mere
transient phases in the development of opinion, like
the doctrines involved in ancestor worship or theism.
Nevertheless, it is only by starting from these as
sumptions that you ever get to. your theory of evolu
tion at all. In other words, if Evolution is certain,
these assumptions must be certain, when regarded
as premises, and uncertain when regarded as pro
ducts. This is not easy to believe.
Evl. Still, you know, you must assume some
thing.
Enq. Nevertheless, it is a pity you cannot so
order your assumptions as to make your system
more self-consistent. At present you seem some
what to resemble an astronomer who should base
his whole theory of the real motion of the heavenly
CHAP, xiii.] THE EVOLUTION OF BELIEF. 273
bodies on the supposition that his own planet was at
rest ; but should unfortunately discover that one of
the necessary conclusions from his theory was that
his planet, in common with all the others, was in mo
tion. Of such a one we should probably say, that if
his deductions were correct his premises must have
been wrong, while if his premises were correct his
deductions must have been wrong.
So far I have only considered this difficulty as it
applies to Evolution, because it seemed to me that
the issue to which I wished to call attention could
be thus most conveniently raised. It is a mistake,
however, to suppose that the difficulty necessarily
attaches to Evolution alone. Every theory is ob
noxious to it according to which all beliefs are sup
posed to be caused, while fundamental beliefs are
caused in such a manner as to make them uncertain.
Now it is to be noted that this description is rather a
wide one : and must undoubtedly be held to include
the world of Science as ordinarily conceived.
For it is plain that current scientific methods can
lead to no other result than that belief is a product.
If experience can prove anything, it can prove that.
There is here none of that doubt which has been
thrown on the existence or non-existence of free will
by the real or supposed discrepancy between the
deliverances of introspective consciousness and the
verdict of ordinary historical experience. In this
case, whether we consult statistics, whether we inter-
T
274 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART in.
rogate consciousness, whether we judge of the matter
on grounds furnished by physiology, or ethnology,
or history, or natural selection whatever scientific
doctrine or scientific method be brought to bear on
the question, but one result is obtained : beliefs, all
beliefs, are the result of the operation of natural
causes, and of these alone. And since it is no less
certain, I apprehend, that these causes are of a kind
to throw doubts on the beliefs they produce, it follows
according to our canon, that ordinary scientific me
thods land us in contradiction. It must, however,
be observed that there is a justification, beyond mere
convenience of exposition, for making Evolution
especially the subject of their criticism, because it is
Evolution alone which necessarily claims to regulate
the whole world of phenomena. The special sci
ences physics, chemistry, and so forth might very
well go on, even if their methods were not uni
versally applied, though it must be admitted that it
is not easy to find a principle of limitation. But if
Evolution is not universal, it is nothing. If certain
phenomena are to be left outside it, if it cannot
without contradiction and confusion explain, poten
tially at least, how the whole world as it is follows
necessarily from the world as it was, it certainly
appears to me that it ought to modify either its
methods or its pretensions.
THE EVOLUTION OF BELIEF. 275
NOTE.
IN the preceding chapter the argument has turned in part
on the manner in which the nature of the causes of belief
in general (and therefore of ultimate beliefs) may affect
their validity. At first sight there may seem to be some
contradiction between this portion of the argument and
the general principles laid down in the first chapter. For
it was there pointed out that no enquiry into the origin of
ultimate beliefs can be of any philosophic value, and the
reader may be tempted to interpret this canon into an
assertion that the origin of ultimate beliefs is a matter of
absolute philosophic indifference an interpretation for
which my own language offers, perhaps, some excuse. Thus
interpreted, however, the doctrine is incorrect. It ib true
that the origin of ultimate beliefs never can supply any
ground for believing them, simply because the fact of their
having any particular origin can only be shown by infer
ence founded ultimately on these beliefs themselves. But
it is quite possible that the converse of this proposition
may be true, and that inference from ultimate beliefs as to
their origin may furnish logical grounds for doubting or
disbelieving them. The preceding chapter contains an
example of this drawn from actual science, and an imagi
nary instance may perhaps serve to put the matter in a
still more forcible light. We might imagine it to be a
conclusion demonstrable from our ultimate beliefs, that
those beliefs were implanted in us by a being who had the
power, and invariably had the wish, to deceive and mislead
us. Now I say that under such circumstances we should
be compelled either to think that our creed was essentially
T 2
276 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [PART m.
incoherent, or that we had committed some blunder in our
inference ; and this is the dilemma which, though in a less
obvious shape, I maintain we are brought face to face with
by the doctrine of Evolution when applied, as it must be
applied, to our ultimate beliefs.
SUMMARY. 277
SUMMARY.
I HAVE now brought to a close the long series of dis
cussions on the speculative foundations of Science,
which began with the second chapter of this Essay.
It may now be convenient if I endeavour, even at the
cost of some repetition, to show by means of a concise
summary the main outline of the argument of which
these discussions are the essential parts.
However disjointed and fragmentary the general
effect of what precedes may be, the attentive reader
will not have failed to observe that a kind of unity is
introduced into the whole by the common relation
which all the other parts bear to the first chapter.
In that is laid down with sufficient generality the
conditions which any system of thought must satisfy
before it can be regarded as reasonable ; while the
succeeding chapters contain an examination of how
far these conditions are satisfied by orthodox Science.
If there appears but little unity in this part of the
Essay, the fact is only a reflection of the disunion
existing between the different systems of Philosophy
criticised, which, though they all admit that Science
278 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
rests on a solid and rational foundation, seem unfor
tunately able to agree in nothing else.
If there was a single recognised system of scien
tific philosophy, complete in all its parts containing,
that is, an account of the premises and modes of
inference by which every scientific proposition was
ultimately established the task of the critic, so far
at least as the arrangement of his work was con
cerned, would be comparatively easy. This, however,
is not so. Existing philosophies are not only various,
but they are incomplete. They not only treat the
same portions of the problem differently, but they
none of them treat of it in all its parts. Their
attempts are fragmentary as well as inconsistent.
At what point, then, is the critic to begin ? What
system should be examined first, and what parts of
that system should be assumed to be provisionally
sound while the solidity of the remainder is being
tested ? The course that I have adopted in this
Essay, whether the most convenient or not, has been
| to start with the ordinary Logic of Science, taking for
granted that the view which that Logic takes of the
premises of Science is correct, and only modifying
the assumption as it was gradually found untenable.
Now the view of the premises of physical science
taken by the usual inductive logic is, that they consist
of observations of what takes place in the external
world. On these is founded everything we know
concerning the nature of the laws which obtain in
SUMMARY. 279
that world, including the fact that it is governed by j
law at all ; so that, as no general principle is given
(except on the transcendental theory which I examined
later), in a single observation, the problem we have
first to consider is, how inference is possible from par
ticulars alone. The result of the discussion on this
point was to show that, so far as at present appears, no
such inference is possible ; and for a reason which, m
its most general expression, was given in the first
chapter. 1 I there observed that any kind of Logic,
if it is to be philosophical, must be formal. The whole
object of a philosophy of inference being to distin
guish valid and ultimate inferences from those which
are invalid or derivative, this can only be done,
either by exhibiting the common forms of such infer- I
ences, or (on the violent hypothesis that they have
no common forms), by enumerating every concrete
instance. To enunciate a form of inference which
shall include both valid and invalid examples, can at
best have only a psychological interest. Now, in
duction from particulars is a form of inference which
includes both valid and invalid examples, so that, in
accordance with the maxim above enunciated, it is
philosophically worthless. If no attempt is made to
distinguish between the cases where it is legitimate
and those where it is not, then no confidence can be
placed in its conclusions. If such an attempt is made,
1 Chap. i. p. ii.
2 8o A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
it must be by the help of some general principle,
and in that case the inference ceases to be from
particulars.
Something, then, must be added to the know
ledge we derive from observation to enable us to
arrive at a law of Nature : and, further, this additional
premiss must be a general proposition. What is it
to be ? The reader, recollecting that we wish to
keep as close as possible to the ordinary philosophy
of Science, and also to make our initial assumptions
as few as possible (seeing that we have afterwards to
examine their validity), will doubtless approve the
choice of the law of causation. In the third chapter,
therefore, we enquire how far it is possible to arrive
at a knowledge of the special laws of Nature, it being
conceded that similar effects always follow similar
causes, and that a knowledge of particular sequences
and coexistences between phenomena can be derived
from observation. The result of this enquiry was to
show that, if we take some phenomenon or group
of phenomena for investigation, inductive logic is
competent under favourable circumstances to prove,
with a high degree of probability, that certain of the
phenomena preceding it in time were, and certain of
them were not> causally connected with it. But that,
on the other hand, inductive logic could not show
either of these things respecting that indefinite mul
titude of phenomena which in experience have
always been present, both when the phenomenon
SUMMARY. 281
under investigation has occurred and also when it
has not.
Since there is no apparent method by which
the effects of these persistent causes can be elimi
nated, we are for ever debarred from a theoretical
knowledge of any absolute law of Nature : from
a knowledge, I mean, of all the phenomena required
to produce a given result : and since there is no
assignable ground for assuming that these persistent
objects which have always accompanied, and may
possibly have co-operated with, the known cause of
any effect, will continue to accompany them whenever
they recur, our ground for supposing that these known
causes will in the future be followed by their accus
tomed consequents, seems in a great measure
removed.
The principles on which this somewhat unsatis
factory conclusion is based are these two : First,
every phenomenon which invariably precedes another
phenomenon may, for anything we know to the con
trary, be part of its cause. Second, the present or
past existence of a phenomenon furnishes no grounds
for anticipating its existence in the future. Of
course, in order that these principles may be legiti
mately applied, we require to assume an absolute
ignorance of all the laws of Nature. On the con
trary assumption, that some of these laws are known,
we may have every reason for thinking that certain
antecedents are not causes, and for expecting a con-
282 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
tinuance of things which have hitherto existed. But
since we are examining the methods by which laws of
Nature in general are arrived at, we must evidently
start by supposing that they are not arrived at yet,
and on that supposition the two principles above
stated seem to me hard to refute.
In Chapter IV. I took for granted that which in
Chapter III. I showed could not be proved, namely,
the trustworthiness of our knowledge of the laws
connecting phenomena, and enquired how, from laws,
we could argue to facts and more especially to facts
that have already occurred.
I pointed out that our knowledge of past events
was entirely founded upon reasoning from effect to
cause ; and that there was a primd facie difficulty
attaching to all reasoning of this kind, arising from
the circumstance that more than one cause might
possibly produce a given effect. The problem,
therefore, which required consideration was, how to
distinguish from among the causes which are merely
possible, the one which was actual or probable. For
this problem I could find no solution. The ordinary
procedure which is followed by men of science is to
estimate the comparative probabilities of the rival
hypotheses, on the basis of some theory respecting
the condition of things at the time of which they are
treating. Now this theory, if it is not a mere figment
of their own imagination, must, like any other his
torical proposition, be itself in the first instance
SUMMARY. 283
founded upon an inference from effect to cause. But
this process of resting successive inferences from
effect to cause on historical hypotheses which can
only be justified by other inferences from effect to
cause, must evidently have a limit. When that limit
is reached, what is to be our next ground of belief ?
On this point Scientific Philosophy is silent, and we
are driven to the conclusion, that if two or more
explanations of the universe are barely possible, they
must, for anything we can say to the contrary, be
equally probable ; which is as much as to say, that
one version of history need not be less likely than
another, merely because it seems in comparison un
natural and extravagant.
These remarks, of course, only hold good as be
tween causes which are possible. If a cause could
not produce the effects which are our sole premises
for inferring the existence and character of any cause
at all, cadit qu&siio. Supposing, therefore, it could
be shown that at any given time only one set of facts
could result in the world as we now see it, we should
know the history of that time with a perfect assur
ance. Can this ever be shown ? It cannot. It
cannot be shown, I imagine, even if we restrict our
attention to those phenomena with whose laws we are
acquainted. But, besides these, there may be count
less powers with the laws of whose operations we are
entirely unacquainted, and by which all that we see
may have been produced. If we once admit the
284 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
possibility of their existence (and I do not know by
what authority we are to deny it), all historical infer
ence is thrown into confusion. We can have no
ground for supposing these hypothetical powers to
begin acting at one time rather than at another,
whether they be powers which should be described
as metaphysical, theological, or merely unknown.
In order, therefore, that a man may have any rational
confidence in the history of the Cosmos as revealed in
the teachings of Science, he must be something more
than an Agnostic. He must have very solid grounds
for believing, not only that through the infinite past
only one series of phenomena can be assigned capa
ble of having produced the actual universe, but
that nothing besides phenomena capable of acting
on phenomena have ever existed at all and these
solid grounds of belief or disbelief must not be drawn
from history ; but, if derived from experience at all,
must be derived from his own immediate observa
tions.
Here terminated the first part of our enquiry.
Its general result is to show (i) that from the par
ticular knowledge obtained by observing the phe
nomena of a world assumed throughout this part of
the Essay to be persistent, no scientific conclusions
could be drawn : and (2) that even if we suppose
these phenomena to be part of a world governed by
causation, we were not much advanced, and that
therefore, (3) some further principles or modes of
SUMMARY. 285
inference have need to be discovered before Science
is placed on a rational foundation. Of these further
principles, since their nature is altogether unknown,
no more notice has been taken.
The second part of the Essay was principally
occupied in discussing various philosophic proofs of
two known assumptions on which Science proceeds
namely, the persistence of the material universe and
the law of universal causation. With regard to the
first of them, though not, I think, with regard to the
second, two theories have been maintained, either of
which, if true, would render any philosophic defence
of it unnecessary. According to one, the persistence
of the material universe is self-evident ; according to
the other, it is untrue though at the same time its
untruth has no scientific significance whatever. The
first of these statements I gave some reasons for
doubting in the Introduction to the second part ; the
second I discussed at length in Chapter IX.
It will not be necessary to recapitulate the argu
ments by which I attempted to show that the main
systems of speculation which now hold a divided and
precarious authority among English thinkers cannot
pretend to furnish satisfactory evidence of the trust
worthiness of these two scientific assumptions. It
will be sufficient to remind the reader that, in the
chapters from VI. to XL inclusive, I dealt more or
less fully with (i) The Kantian or neo- Kantian
286 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
argument which founds knowledge on certain Trans
cendental necessities of belief. [Ch. VI.]
(2) The system which sets up an internal or
subjective authority called Consciousness as the
final arbiter of Truth. [Ch. VIII.]
(3) The system which finds the highest source of
certainty in our original judgments. [Ch. VIII.]
(4) The argument which seeks either in the
opinions of mankind in general, or of some selected
portion of them, for an ultimate ground of belief.
[Ch. VII.]
(5) The argument which infers the truth of an
opinion from the fact that it ( succeeds in practice.
[Ch. VI L]
(6) The argument which infers the truth of an
opinion from the fact that common sense (in the
popular acceptation of that term) supports it. [Ch.
VII.]
(7) The philosophy which declares every pro
position to be true of which the opposite is incon
ceivable.
In addition to these discussions on various pro
posed foundations for a creed, I introduced into the
second part two chapters : one devoted to refuting
Mr. Spencer s proof of Realism [Ch. XL], the other
to showing that unless Realism be true, Science must
be false [Ch. IX.].
I have purposely made these discussions personal,
in the sense of fastening them on some particular
SUMMARY. 287
individual in all cases, the most distinguished recent
exponent of his special views because this method
seems the one most certainly calculated to raise a
clear and definite issue. While in regard to the sub
ject-matter of the criticisms, I have attempted to
steer between the opposite danger of, on the one
hand, dealing with minute or verbal errors, and on
the other, of wandering off into comments upon the
whole system of an author, instead of confining my
self to those parts which are alone relevant to the
questions at issue.
Assuming then that the arguments attacked are
fairly representative of English Philosophy at the
present time as is, I think, the case and assum
ing, as I am bound to do, that the answers here
given to those arguments are effective, we may say
that Science is a system of belief which, for anything
we can allege to the contrary, is wholly without
proof. The inferences by which it is arrived at are
erroneous ; the premises on which it rests are un
proved. It only remains to show that, considered as
a general system of belief, it is incoherent : and this
task is undertaken in the two chapters which together
form the Third Part.
The first of these (namely, Chapter XII.) is
devoted in the main to showing that there is a dis
crepancy between the facts which Science asserts to
be its (particular) premises and the facts which it
puts forward as its ultimate conclusions. But besides
288 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
this principal contention, it is shown incidentally that
the universe, as it is represented to us by Science,
is wholly unimaginable, and that our conception of
it is, what in Theology would be termed, purely
anthropomorphic. It must be noted that the uni
verse here spoken of is not the metaphysical Thing-
in-itself, nor is it the Unknowable Reality which we
are supposed by some philosophers to arrive at, if we
drive our speculative analysis sufficiently deep. On
the contrary, it is the subject-matter of all, or almost
all, the propositions which are put forward by Natural
Science, and which together constitute a large part
of what is commonly, though not very happily, de
scribed as Positive Knowledge.
The chief argument of Chapter XII. is, how
ever, only indirectly connected with this subject,
its principal end being to contrast the world as it
appears with the world as Science assures us that it
is, and to show that the scientific reasoning which
makes our knowledge of the second depend logically
upon our knowledge of the first, is inadmissible.
The fact that the two- are in contradiction is
flagrant and undeniable as any one may see who
considers that while perception gives us immediate
knowledge of the existence of coloured objects,
Science tells us that this appearance is really due
either to the vibration of uncoloured particles, or
to reflection from uncoloured surfaces. It is also, I
imagine, evident that no integral part of a system
SUMMARY. 289
can contradict the premises of that system with
out introducing confusion and incoherence into
the whole : and finally, it must be admitted that
since our actual scientific system does rest upon
the data given in perception, and since its conclu
sions are in contradiction with these data, it must be
regarded as incoherent and confused.
Some speculative arguments fail of their effect
from their too great subtilty. The argument whose
outline I have just briefly indicated is likely to fail
from a precisely opposite reason. When once stated
it is so obvious, and so readily understood, that it is
hard to believe that there is not some recognised
and equally obvious reply by which the difficulty it
raises may be disposed of. If so, however, I do not
know where such a reply is to be found : while, on
the other hand, cause may I think be shown (as I
pointed out in the chapter under review) why the
difficulty itself may easily escape notice. I there
explained that in our reflections upon the origin of
our knowledge of the external world we habitually
take for granted the scientific theory of perception :
according to which the perceived object acts upon
our organism, which in its turn produces in the per
ceiving mind what is called a perception of the ob
ject. If this theory be true and I did not dispute it
it is intelligible enough that the object as it is per
ceived should not exactly correspond with the object
as it is, but that (to speak metaphorically) the mes-
u
290 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
sage sent by the latter should be altered and modi
fied in the course of transmission. But the difficulty
is that this theory itself rests entirely on observations
of the external world, and therefore, though its exist
ence quite accounts for, yet it by no means justifies
our habitual indifference to the contradiction which
lies between the immediate results of these obser
vations and the remote conclusions which Science
draws from them. In order to obviate a possi
ble way by which this objection might be met, I
showed, at the end of the chapter, that no advan
tage is gained for the scientific system by supposing
that it rests, not on the facts given in perception, but
(which is quite another thing) on the fact that such
and such perceptions occur : not on the existence
of the various things perceived crystals, metals,
planets, and so forth, but on the fact that we have
perceptions as of crystals, metals, and planets. It
was shortly pointed out that to regard the world of
Science as a hypothetical means of accounting for
the occurrence of these perceptions and it is this
which we should have to do, if we mean to justify
our belief in it merely by an inference founded on
the fact that these perceptions exist would be
simply to place it on a level with an indefinite num
ber of other hypotheses, known and unknown, which
might be supposed to fulfil the same function.
The Thirteenth chapter, like the twelfth, dealt
with an inherent flaw or defect in the scientific system,
SUMMARY. 291
but one of a much more subtle and difficult charac
ter. This flaw is due ultimately to the fact that
every belief may be considered from two separate
points of view. It may be looked upon as a mem
ber of a logical series, or it may be looked upon as
a member of a causal series. If we consider it from
the first of these points of view, it appears as a con
clusion, as a premiss, or as both a conclusion and a
premiss. If we consider it from the second point of
view, it appears as an effect, as a cause, or as both
an effect and a cause.
Now every belief, without exception, has accord
ing to Science got a cause. But every belief has by
no means got a reason, and there are some beliefs
which cannot possibly have reasons, namely, those
ultimate ones on which all others depend ; these,
it is evident, must be products, but cannot be con
clusions.
Confining our attention, then, to ultimate beliefs
considered merely as products, it becomes evident
that, as products, they are in no way to be distin
guished from the infinite multitude of beliefs which
rise into notice, become the fashion, fall out of
favour, and are forgotten by all but the historians
of opinion. Like them, they are the effects of
material antecedents, the necessary results of a
primeval arrangement of atoms. But these, the
reader must note, are causes which unquestionably
produce much error, and which it might be plausibly
u 2
292 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
maintained have produced more error than truth.
There is consequently a distinct probability though,
of course, one uncertain in its amount that any be
lief, and therefore any ultimate belief, which results
from their operation will be erroneous.
But if now, from looking at the question exclu
sively from the causal side, we turn round and look
at it from the cognitive or logical side as well, we
become conscious of a difficulty. For in so far as
Science conforms to the ideal of a rational system,
it consists of conclusions certainly inferred from
certain premises. But one of the conclusions thus
certainly inferred is (as we have just seen), that
the premises of all science are doubtful ; so that the
more certain we choose to consider our inferences,
the more we diminish the only ultimate assurance
we have for believing them at all,
If it be replied that this consequence may be
avoided by considering the scientific system as all
reasonable men do actually consider it to be merely
probable, I answer that we cannot consider any sys
tem to be even probable which, if it were suddenly
to become certain, would be self-contradictory, and
therefore impossible. Such a supposition is absurd.
No conclusion less than the recognition of the fact,
that there is some fundamental error or omission in
the account given by Science, and more especially
by the doctrine of Evolution, of the genesis of our
ultimate beliefs, will satisfy the argument ; though
SUMMARY. 293
how this error or omission is to be corrected or
supplied without entirely altering our ordinary
theories about the history of the universe, I am
unable to say.
This discussion in the thirteenth chapter concludes
the speculative enquiry into the nature and validity
of the evidence which can be produced in favour of
the current scientific creed. At every point, the
results arrived at have been unfavourable to Science.
It fails in its premises, in its inferences, and in its
conclusions. The first, so far as they are known,
are unproved ; the second are inconclusive ; the third
are incoherent. Nor am I acquainted with any
kind of defect to which systems of belief are liable,
under which the scientific system of belief may not
properly be said to suffer.
If the reader, in the interests of speculation (the
practical question will be discussed in the next
chapter), feels inclined to complain of the purely
destructive nature of the criticisms contained in the
preceding pages, I reply that speculation seems sadly
in want of destructive criticism just at the present
time. Whenever any faith is held strongly and
universally, there is a constant and overpowering
tendency to convert Philosophy, which should be
its judge, into its servant. It was so formerly, when
Theology ruled supreme ; it is so now that Science
has usurped its place : and I assert with some con
fidence that the bias given to thought in the days of
2 9 4 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
the Schoolmen through the overmastering influence
of the first of these creeds was not a whit more per
nicious to the cause of impartial speculation than
the bias which it receives at this moment through
the influence of the second.
It is curious to remark how similar are the con
sequences of this bias in the two cases. Philo
sophy, or what passed for such, not only supported
Theology in the Middle Ages it became almost
identical with it ; it not only supports Science now,
but it has almost become a scientific department.
To hear some people talk, one would really suppose
that Philosophy consisted either of the more general
aspects of scientific truth or of the results obtained
by applying the approved methods of physical in
vestigation to mind, or even, which is still more ex
traordinary, to the nervous system ! It may be ad
mitted that nothing can well be more interesting than
the treatment of the first of these subjects by such
writers as M. Comte and Mr. Spencer ; though it can
hardly be necessary again to insist on the fact that no
mere generalisations within the sphere of Science,
though they may furnish materials for a Positive
Philosophy, can ever be expected to give us what I
should term a scientific one, any more than a work
which, to start with, assumed the truth of the Three
Creeds, could constitute a rational exposition of
Christian evidences. While, with regard to empirical
psychology and empirical physiology, it is only neces-
SUMMARY. 295
sary to remind the reader of what was shown at
sufficient length in the first chapter, namely, that no
progress made along these very respectable lines of
research, however much it may increase our know
ledge of mind and of body, can ever produce, or even
perhaps suggest, a solid and satisfactory theory of
the grounds of belief.
Whatever be the errors and shortcomings of the
preceding discussions, I have, I trust, in the course
of them avoided this particular confusion (I mean
between aspects of Science or parts of Science and
Philosophy) which is the fertile cause of so many
others. The path of my argument has been a
narrow one, deviating neither into Science on the
one hand nor into Metaphysics on the other ; and if
it seems to run through a somewhat uninteresting
region, and to lead to no desirable goal, yet it, or
something like it, must, I believe, be traversed before
intellectual repose is finally reached. If speculations
which do nothing but destroy seem to be, as indeed
they are, unsatisfactory even from a speculative
point of view, the reader must recollect that definite
and rational certainty is not likely to be obtained
unless we first pass through a stage of definite and
rational doubt.
296 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
PRACTICAL RESULTS.
THE reader who has followed the long argument of
this Essay to its termination at the close of the pre
ceding chapter, may perhaps be disposed to ask, what,
if any, is intended to be the practical result of a
piece of criticism so purely destructive in its character.
If it is intended to be a mere dialectical puzzle,
a mere exercise in ingenious objections, or even a
contribution of a somewhat eccentric kind towards
English Philosophy, it cannot be regarded as of much
general interest outside the sphere of speculation. If,
on the other hand, it is intended to influence actual
belief, what effect can it have, except the produc
tion of a universal or nearly universal scepticism ?
an object which can scarcely be thought worth the
trouble both writer and reader must undergo in order
to attain it.
Before answering these objections, I must point
out that the word scepticism taken without ex
planation is ambiguous. It may mean either the
intellectual recognition of the want of evidence, or it
may mean this together with its consequent unbelief.
Now if my supposed critic uses the word in the
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 297
second of these senses, it might be well, before ask
ing whether such scientific scepticism is desirable, to
ask whether it is possible ; because if, as I believe,
this question must be answered in the negative if
scepticism of the far-reaching character required by
the reasoning of this Essay can be produced by no
rigour of demonstration we may make ourselves
easy as to any ill effect which, did it exist, it might be
expected to produce. The only persons who might
conceivably be embarrassed by the speculative con
clusions I have so far attempted to establish are those
whose devotion to truth takes the form of asserting
that we are in duty bound to make the strength of
our beliefs vary exactly with the strength of the evi
dence on which they rest. But this maxim, though
occasionally uttered as if it were a moral law, would
no doubt be found capable of modification in the face
of an imperious necessity.
If, then, scepticism in the second sense be impos
sible, is scepticism in the first sense scepticism which
merely recognises the absence of philosophical proof
or other logical defect in a system of belief of any
but a speculative interest ? At first sight it would
seem not. Scepticism which does not destroy belief,
it is natural to suppose, does nothing. This, how
ever, is by no means necessarily the case. If in the
estimation of mankind all creeds stood on a philoso
phic equality, no doubt an attack which affected them
all equally would probably have little or no prac-
298 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
tical result. The only result it could reasonably pro
duce would be general unbelief, and as I have just
remarked, general unbelief can hardly be regarded as
a possible frame of mind. But if in the estimation of
mankind there is the greatest difference in the rela
tive credibility of prevalent systems of belief, if now
one system now another is raised to the dignity of a
standard of certainty, it is plain that a sceptical
attack, especially if it deals with the system which
happens at the moment to be in favour, may have con
siderable consequences consequences, at least, quite
as considerable as any which considerations addressed
merely to the reason are ever likely to produce.
To judge, then, of the true bearing of arguments
like those contained in the preceding chapters, we
must look not merely at the arguments themselves,
but also at the general habits of thought which prevail
at the time of their publication. We must consider
not only the nature of the agent, but the nature of
the material on which it is to act.
What, then, is the position actually taken up by
various sections of educated men (we may leave
others out of account), towards the beliefs by which
we find ourselves surrounded ? Which do they
accept, which do they hesitate about, which do they
altogether reject ? These are not questions, it is
needless to say, to which it is here either necessary
or possible to give full answers. But in a sentence
or two I can map out in outline the creed secretly
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 299
or avowedly professed by the two largest and
most important classes about whom we need be
concerned.
In the opinion of both of these, beliefs tend to
assimilate themselves to one of two types. The
first type is that presented by established science.
The beliefs which conform to it would be described
as consistent and positive, as arrived at by recognised
methods, and as ultimately resting on primary axioms
whose certainty is beyond the reach of scepticism.
An example of the second type may be found in any
of the superstitions, religious or scientific, which are
now by universal consent regarded as the products
of fanciful ignorance. Beliefs of this kind form a
floating mass of error, unorganised, unproved, and
inconsistent, which it is the business of true science
gradually to destroy ; a duty which we are given to
understand it is rapidly and effectually accomplishing.
Our more advanced thinkers, those who are of
opinion that they have now reached the point of view
from which in the indefinite future it will be given to
the whole human race to look back on the errors
which formerly misled it, deal very shortly with the
distribution of beliefs between these two types.
Everything which has to do with phenomena, every
thing which they conceive to belong either to recog
nised science or to scientific conjecture, they put in
the first class : it is either certain, or belongs to the
type of that which is certain. Everything else they
300 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
put in the second : it is either a superstition and
untrue, or it resembles superstitions and is beyond
the reach of proof.
I do not of course mean by these remarks indi
rectly to accuse them of classing Ethics among super
stitions. This would be unjust. There is no body
of men more careful to let it be understood that the
course of their speculations is guided by the most
elevated morality. But they hold that Ethics either
is scientific or might be made so, and they therefore
regard themselves as justified in putting it in the
first category with the rest of our certain know
ledge. 1
The second class of men whose attitude towards
existing beliefs I wish to describe is much more
numerous (in England at least) than the first class,
but much less definite in its opinions. The people who
constitute it are by no means clear that all knowledge
excepting that which is scientific and deals with
phenomena is either essentially incapable of proof, or
else is mere superstition. On the contrary, they are
inclined to admit the existence of a sort of middle
ground, a territory where we may provisionally place
the beliefs which, in respect of their subject-matter,
approach to the type of superstitions, while in respect
of their probable truth they resemble science. To
this region is consigned Religion. But even of this
1 See Appendix, at the end of the volume, for a more detailed dis
cussion of the subject.
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 301
ambiguous position its tenure is insecure. Should
criticism succeed in doing to the satisfaction of the
people whose opinions I am describing what it has
long done to the satisfaction of our advanced
thinkers, should it succeed, namely, in demonstrating
an essential inconsistency between religious and
scientific belief then, if I understand rightly their
canons of judgment, Religion would at once be rele
gated to the class at present occupied by delusions
and detected superstitions.
It is not to be doubted, I think, that most of the
persons who speculate at all upon the larger problems
now in debate and in these days everybody dabbles
more or less in such speculations belong to one of
the two classes I have just described. But the point
I especially desire to insist on is that though in the
first class are to be found almost all those who dis
believe in Religion, while the second includes almost
all those who believe in it : yet, that however great
may be the practical differences between them (and
their practical differences are in some cases almost
infinite), they nevertheless agree in thinking that no
more certain warrant for a creed can be found than
the fact that Science supports it ; no more fatal
objection to one, than the fact that Science contra
dicts it.
The result of this is not only that we are ex
pected to interest ourselves in the effect which scien
tific discoveries have had, or may be expected to
3 02 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
have, on the historic evolution of religious thought,
but that it seems to be assumed that the logical rela
tion which subsists between the doctrines of actual
science and of actual religion is a fact of transcendent
theological importance ; so that the serious contro
versies of the day are, in fact, little more than phases
of what is called the conflict between Science and
Religion/ There is no scientific discovery which
has not therefore an importance altogether dispropor
tionate to its purely scientific bearing, because there
is none which may not suggest or confirm a theory
inconsistent with something long held to be an
essential part of Religion, and which may not thus
become the centre of a bitter controversy, prompted
far more by theological or anti-theological zeal than
by a dispassionate love of scientific knowledge.
I might insist on the evil done by such a state of
things both to Religion and to Science, but at this
moment I wish rather to enter my protest against
the principle from which the evil itself ultimately
springs. Has Science any claim to be thus set up as
the standard of belief? Is there any ground what
ever for regarding conformity with scientific teach
ing as an essential condition of truth ; and non
conformity with it as an unanswerable proof of
error ? If there is, it cannot be drawn from the
nature of the scientific system itself. We have seen
in the preceding pages how a close examination of its
philosophical structure reveals the existence of almost
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 303
every possible philosophical defect. We have seen
that whether Science be regarded from the point of
view of its premises, its inferences, or the general rela
tion of its parts, it is found defective ; and we have seen
that the ordinary proofs which philosophers and men
of science have thought fit to give of its doctrines
are not only mutually inconsistent, but are such as
would convince nobody who did not start (as, how
ever, we all do start), with an implicit and indestruc
tible confidence in the truth of that which had to
be proved. I am far from complaining of the con
fidence. I share it. My complaint rather is, that of
two creeds which, from a philosophical point of view,
stand, so far as I can judge, upon a perfect equality,
one should be set up as a standard to which the
other must necessarily conform.
I am not insensible that to some of my readers
I may now appear to have reached an extremity of
paradox far beyond the limits of sober reason. Even
the existence of thirteen chapters of argument which,
whether good or bad, are undoubtedly serious, may
fail to convince them that I am altogether in earnest.
It must be admitted that such hardness of belief on
their part has some excuse. The vast extension of
Science in recent times, its new conquests in old
worlds, the new worlds it has discovered to conquer,
the fruitfulness of its hypotheses, the palpable witness
which material results bear to the excellence of its
methods, may well lead men to think that the means
3 o4 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
by which these triumphs have been attained are above
the reach even of the most audacious criticism. To
be told in the face of facts like these that Science
stands on no higher a level of certainty than what
some people seem to look on as a dying superstition,
may easily excite in certain minds a momentary
doubt as to the seriousness of the objector. Such
a doubt is not likely to be more than transient. But
if any reader, who has accompanied me so far,
seriously entertains it, I can only invite him, since
he regards my conclusions as absurd, to point out
the fallacies which vitiate the reasoning on which
those conclusions are finally based.
I have sometimes thought that the parallel be
tween Science and Theology, regarded as systems of
belief, might be conveniently illustrated by framing
a refutation of the former on the model of certain
attacks on the latter with which we are all familiar.
We might begin by showing how crude and con
tradictory are the notions of primitive man, and
even of the cultivated man in his unreflective mo
ments, respecting the object-matter of scientific be
liefs. We might point out the rude anthropomor
phism which underlies them, and show how impos
sible it is to get altogether rid of this anthropomor
phism, without refining away the object-matter till
it becomes an unintelligible abstraction. We might
then turn to the scientific apologists. We should
show how the authorities of one age differed from
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 305
those of another in their treatment of the subject,
and how the authorities of the same age differed
among themselves ; then after taking up their sys
tems one after another, and showing their individual
errors in detail we should comment at length on
the strange obstinacy they evinced in adhering to
their conclusions, whether they could prove them or
not. It is at this point, perhaps, that according to
usage we might pay a passing tribute to morality.
With all the proper circumlocutions, we should sug
gest that so singular an agreement respecting some
of the most difficult points requiring proof, together
with so strange a divergence and so obvious a want
of cogency in the nature of the proofs offered, could
not be accounted for on any hypothesis consistent
with the intellectual honesty of the apologists.
Without attributing motives to individuals, we should
hint politely, but not obscurely, that prejudice and
education in some, the fear of differing from the
majority, or the fear of losing a lucrative place in
others, had been allowed to warp the impartial course
of investigation ; and we should lament that scientific
philosophers, in many respects so amiable and use
ful a body of men, should allow themselves so often to
violate principles which they openly and even ostenta
tiously avowed. After this moral display, we should
turn from the philosophers who are occupied with
the rationale of the subject to the main body of men
of science who are actually engaged in teaching and
x
306 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
research. Fully acknowledging their many merits,
we should yet be compelled to ask how it comes
about that they are so ignorant of the controversies
which rage round the very foundations of their subject,
and how they can reconcile it with their intellectual
self-respect, when they are asked some vital question
(say respecting the proof of the law of Universal
Causation, or the existence of the external world),
either to profess total ignorance of the subject, or to
offer in reply some shreds of worn out metaphysics ?
It is true, they might say that a profound study of
these subjects is not consistent either with teaching
or with otherwise advancing the cause of Science ;
but of course to this excuse we should make the
obvious rejoinder that, before trying to advance the
cause of Science, it would be as well to discover
whether such a thing as true Science really existed.
This done, we should have to analyse the actual
body of scientific truth presented for our accept
ance ; to show how, while its conclusions are in
consistent, its premises are either lost in a meta
physical haze, or else are unfounded and gratuitous
assumptions ; after which it would only remain for
us to compose an eloquent peroration on the debt
which mankind owe to Science, and to the great
masters who have created it, and to mourn that the
progress of criticism should have left us no choice but
to count it among the beautiful but baseless dreams
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 307
which have so often deluded the human race with
the phantom of certain knowledge.
Of course a parody I ought rather to say a
parallel of this sort could serve no purpose but to
make people reflect on the boldness of their ordinary
assumption respecting the comparative certainty of
Science and Religion. But this alone would be no
small gain ; since in the present state of opinion a
suspicion as to the truth of that assumption seems
the last thing that naturally suggests itself. Why
should this be so ? That men of Science should
exaggerate the claims of Science is natural and par
donable, but why the ordinary public, whose know
ledge of Science is confined to what they can extract
from fashionable lectures and popular handbooks,
should do so, it is not quite easy to understand.
Perhaps I shall be told that there is a very simple
explanation of this strange unanimity of opinion
namely, the fact that the opinion is true. To this I
reply that, even if we dismiss all the reasons I have
given for thinking that the opinion is not true, the
objector will hardly assert that the general public
(of whom alone I have been speaking) have ever
made themselves acquainted with the sort of reasons
by which alone the opinion can be known to be true,
still less that they have taken the trouble to weigh
those reasons with care. While, if it be further sug
gested that they are guided by an unerring instinct
in such matters, I answer that their instinct cannot
X 2
3 o8 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
always be unerring, for history sufficiently shows
that it has not always been the same.
Another reason may be given, which in part
accounts for the fact, though after all it only re
moves the difficulty a stage further back. It may
be alleged that the popular opinion is merely a re
flection of the popular literature, and that the truth
of the assumption I am calling in question is gene
rally believed by the many who read, simply because
it is constantly asserted by the few who write. This
no doubt is accurate, and up to a certain point is an
explanation. There exists now a kind of literature,
already large and of growing importance, produced
by experts for the benefit of those who desire to be
generally informed ; which, unlike most ephemeral
literature, leads public opinion rather than follows it.
Of course the greater part of this, whether it consists
of handbooks or of review articles, has no bearing
whatever on the relation which ought to exist between
Religion and Science, or with the positive evidence
that may exist for either. But just as popular accounts
of chemistry, physiology, or history appear in answer
to the natural desire of an educated but busy public
for as much knowledge as possible, about as many
things as possible, with as little trouble as possible :
so there are easily found eminent authors anxious
to purvey for that apparently increasing class of
persons who aspire to be advanced thinkers, but
who like to have their advanced thinking done for
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 309
them. Now the very starting- point of these pro
ductions is the principle that Science is the one
thing certain, that everything which cannot be proved
by scientific means is incapable of proof, and that
everything which is inconsistent with Science is
thereby disproved. And since this is a doctrine
which is constantly reiterated, since it is one which in
the struggle for existence has the great advantage
of being not only easily stated, but easily under
stood ; we need not be surprised that a not very
critical public should readily believe it, without taking
any great pains to examine into the nature of its
evidence. How it comes about that the distinguished
authors who so serenely take for granted this prin
ciple of criticism should themselves never be troubled
by any suspicion as to its solidity is, I admit, harder
to understand. It would have required, I should
have supposed, much less philosophical knowledge
and philosophical acumen than that possessed, for
example, by Mr. Leslie Stephen or Professor
Huxley, to suggest to their minds doubts as to the
rational character of the dogmatic system in which
they so confidently put their trust ; and, once sug-
^ested and unanswered, the smallest doubt should be
t>
sufficient to prevent them raising that system into a
standard by which the value of all other systems of
belief might properly be estimated.
Without, however, making any special attack on
individuals, the nature of my indictment against the
3 io A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
general body of anti-religious controversialists may
be easily stated. The force of their attack depends
in the last resort upon the discrepancy they find, or
think they find, between Religion and Science. It
must require, therefore, a belief in, at all events, the
comparative certitude of Science. On what does
this belief finally depend ? Are we to suppose that
they rest its whole weight on the frail foundation
supplied by the contradictory fragments of Philosophy
we have been discussing through all these chapters ?
Or are we to suppose that their belief is a mere
assumption, with no other recommendation than that
it is agreeable to the spirit of the age ? Or are we
to suppose that it is established by some esoteric
proof, known only to the few, and not yet published
for the benefit of the world at large ? The first
of these alternatives implies in the thinkers of whom
I speak the existence of an easy credulity in singular
contrast with the acute scepticism they display when
dealing with beliefs they do not happen to share.
The second is, I think, hardly worthy of a class of
writers who appeal so often and so earnestly to
Reason, and who particularly pride themselves on
proportioning the strength of their convictions to the
strength of the evidence on which they rest. But if
the third alternative represents the real state of the
case, we have, I think, a right to ask that the conceal
ment which the opponents of Religion are practising
with so remarkable an unanimity should come to an
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 3 11
end, and that since the philosophy of Science exists, it
should forthwith be produced for our enlightenment.
It is but justice, however, to the philosophic and
literary advocates of extreme scientific pretension?,
to remark that the blame which I have been laying
on them should in part be shared by theologians.
I do not mean, of course, that many theologians of
repute could be found prepared to assert that Re
ligion must either be proved wholly by scientific
methods, and be shown to harmonise completely
with scientific conclusions, or else be summarily
rejected ; but I do assert that the extreme anxiety
exhibited by certain of them to establish the perfect
congruity of Science and Religion the existence of
a whole class of apologists, the end of whose
labours appears to be to explain, or to explain
away, every appearance of contradiction between
the two are facts which naturally suggest the
conclusion that the assumption made by the Free
thinkers 1 is a legitimate one.
Let me not be misunderstood. Truth is one.
Therefore any attempt to reconcile inconsistent or
1 It is not easy to find a single word to describe the opponents of
Religion which is altogether free from objection. Most of the terms
which suggest themselves have either acquired a somewhat offensive
connotation, or are inexact. One or both of these defects attaches to
the words Infidel, Atheist/ Agnostic, and Sceptic. I have
pitched upon Freethinker because, if it suggests comparisons not alto
gether flattering to the modern assailants of theology, on the other
hand, this is made up for by the fact that the strict meaning of the
word credits them with a virtue to which they have no exclusive title.
3 i2 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
apparently inconsistent beliefs is in itself legitimate,
and in so far as apologetics aim at this and at nothing
more, I have not a word to say against them ; but
the manner in which the controversy is carried on,
even from the theological side, occasionally suggests
the idea, not only that a consistent creed embracing
both scientific and religious doctrines may be made
at some time or other, but that it ought to be made
now, and by no process more elaborate than that of
lopping off from Religion everything which is not
exactly agreeable with Science.
Yet the apologists should be the first to recognise
the fact that this Procrustean method of reconciliation
is not one which ought ever to be applied to their
theological convictions. Its very ground and justi
fication is the idea that enforced consistency is the
shortest road to truth. But if this be so, what are
we to think of religious mysteries ?
Religious mysteries I suppose to be objects of
belief which so nearly elude the utmost stretch of
our imagination, that they can be only vaguely
and imperfectly described in words ; or of such a
nature that any definite attempt to express their
attributes in formulae results in a contradiction in
terms. Brought face to face with such a contradic
tion, a man may pursue one of three courses : he
may reject both contradictories that is, refuse to
believe in the thing described ; he may accept one
of the contradictories, and thus escape inconsistency
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 3 3
at the cost (it may be) of completeness ; or he may
accept both contradictories, thinking thereby to ob
tain, under however unsatisfactory a form, the fullest
measure of truth which he is at present able to grasp.
This last course is the one which in some cases all
(even merely natural) theologians have pursued. It
is therefore a matter of surprise that so many of
them thinking, as they must, that religious truth
cannot always be so expressed as to be consistent with
itself should argue as if it ought necessarily to be
expressed so as to be consistent with Science.
Perhaps the reader may be inclined to object to
the foregoing considerations, that if they are adapted
to support Religion in its existing shape, they are
not less well adapted to support any Religion how
ever absurd, or any superstition however gross.
Arguments against one form of belief are rebutted,
by rendering argument against any form of belief
impossible. Immunity from one kind of criticism is
obtained only by the costly process of dethroning all
de facto authority in the realm of opinion, and intro
ducing into it, thereby, every species of license and
confusion.
Before considering the precise extent to which
these forebodings as to the consequences of philoso
phic scepticism are really well founded, I must point
out that for the consequences themselves I am in no
way responsible. They are the results of an inves
tigation of a purely speculative character conducted
3H A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
with all the impartiality in my power ; and though I
admit that I should probably never have troubled
myself to put them into shape, had I not hoped
that they might have some practical results, the
thought of those results if it has prompted the com
mencement of the undertaking has in no way modified
its course. Even, therefore, if my conclusions should
tend to foster forms of belief with which neither the
Freethinkers nor I happen to agree, I shall expect
full absolution from a body of writers who have
constituted themselves the especial champions of the
doctrine that no enquiry should be discouraged out
of mere apprehension of its consequences.
To return to the objection itself. It must be
noted, in the first place, that when I suggest that
practically we need not or cannot regulate our beliefs
in strict accordance with the results of rational cri
ticism, I arn driven to make the suggestion not be
cause I have used reason less freely, but because I
have used it more freely than is usual upon subjects
respecting which people, as a rule, accept their
opinion without much preliminary examination. But
this unfettered use of Reason need only produce an
irrational and therefore unsatisfactory and provisional
attitude of mind when we are dealing with Science
as a whole,-* .*, as a single system of belief; and it by
no means excludes or tends to exclude the use of
Reason within that (or any other) system for the pur
pose of harmonising or co-ordinating its parts, nor
PRACTICAL RESULTS.
even from using it to modify details of the system
for the purpose of producing as much consistency
as possible between the different creeds which we
happen to hold. Any person, therefore, taking my
view of these questions, would be at liberty, nay
would be bound, to regulate his beliefs within the
sphere of Science according to rational principles, to
the same extent and in precisely the same way as
the ordinary man of science does ; the only differ
ence between them being that the sceptical philo
sopher does so in the full consciousness, and the man
of science in utter unconsciousness, that [the system
he is dealing with is, as a whole, incapable of any
rational defence. ] Of course, if Religion is thought
to stand in this respect on a level with Science (a
point which it has not been my business to discuss),J
the same remarks, mutatis mutandis, may properly
be applied to it.
It appears then that the practical conclusions I
draw from a sceptical philosophy have little or no
tendency to alter the internal structure of any actual
or possible creed. But it may still be objected that
they give free scope to the simultaneous existence
of any number of creeds, no matter how foolish or
how contradictory these may happen to be. Now
in considering this question, it must be recollected
that I have not presented or attempted to present
any arguments in favour of Theology. I have
shown indeed, or attempted to show, that the
316 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
fundamental assumption of most of its assailants is
altogether baseless. But after such demonstration
the positive motives which produce theological belief
remain precisely what they were they are not
strengthened because Science is proved to be phi
losophically unsound, they would not be weakened
if a complete philosophy of Science were to be
produced to-morrow. The extent, therefore, to
f which this attack on Science might theoretically
produce a chaos of conflicting creeds is easy to
determine. It will preserve from destruction those
creeds and those only which, while they have a
claim on our beliefs like that possessed by Science
and Theology, are, as Theology is by some supposed
to be, in contradiction with Science. If there be
any system of belief answering to this description,
its adherents are welcome to any assistance they can
derive from the arguments of this Essay. I can
only say, for my part, that if it exists, I know not
where it is to be found.
There is one more question suggested by what
has been said in the course of the preceding remarks,
to which the reader may desire an answer. He
may wish to know what constitute the claims on
our belief which I assert to be possessed alike by
Science and Theology, and which I put forward as
the sole practical foundation on which our convictions
ultimately rest.
In dealing with this subject it can, I suppose, be
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 31 7
hardly necessary to repeat what the whole tenor of
this Essay goes to prove, namely, that these Claims
to Belief do not consist, so far as Science at least
is concerned, in reasons. Whatever they may be,
they are not rational grounds of conviction, raised
by their very nature above the reach of criticism.
It would be more proper to describe them as a
kind of inward inclination or impulse, falling far
short of I should perhaps rather say, altogether
differing in kind from philosophic certitude, leav
ing the reason therefore unsatisfied, but amounting
nevertheless to a practical cause of belief, from
the effects of which we do not even desire to be
released. The object of this unreasoning belief is
not, however, as it ought to be if our creeds were
truly rational, the ultimate premises from which all
the other elements of the creed are inferred : it is
rather the cree I as a whole, or even certain arbitrarily
selected parts of it. In the case of Science, indeed,
this can hardly be otherwise, since its premises are
(as we have seen) not yet properly determined ; while
in so far as they are determined, they are explicitly
known to but few persons : and of those few there is
probably not one who did not believe in Science be
fore he thought of it in relation to its premises, and
who would not continue to believe in it, if all such
thoughts were obliterated from his mind.
The reader may, perhaps, think that we ought
not to rest content with anything so unsatisfactory
3 i8 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
as this impulse. If so, I am quite of his mind. It
is assuredly unsatisfactory ; and assuredly we ought
not to rest content with it. I know of no means,
however, by which the evil can at present be reme
died, and I am sure that the discovery of such
means is not likely to be hastened by the claims to
rationality which the assailants of Religion are accus
tomed to put forth in favour of their own more
limited creed.
But perhaps it will be said, Grant that this " im
pulse " of which you speak is the whole motive on
account of which mankind accept their stock of
beliefs, still you have not put Science and Religion
on an equality, since it is obvious that the " im
pulse" is much more universal in the case of the
former than it is in the case of the latter. If the
comparative universality here claimed for the Scien
tific impulse was measured by the comparative
number of persons who accepted respectively the
general body of Scientific and Religious doctrines, I
apprehend that the objection I have just stated
would have no standing ground on fact. There is,
however, a better interpretation to be put on it. We
may conceive the objection to mean that while
nobody does or can possibly exist without believing
in some scientific doctrines as that fire burns or
food nourishes we can find plenty of persons
among those who have either never heard of Reli
gion, or who have persuaded themselves that
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 319
Religion is false street arabs or advanced thinkers
who do not accept even the smallest and most
perverted fragment of religious truth.
The fact in this case is undoubted ; but to bring
it forward as an objection to my view implies a
double error. It implies, in the first place, that the
impulse of which I speak is a logical ground for
accepting Religion or Science, as the case may be ;
and it implies, in the second place, that this supposed
ground is of the kind which I have already sufficiently
dealt with, 1 under the name of The Argument from
General Consent/ My imaginary critic, in short,
supposes that I regard an ultimate impulse to believe
a creed as a reason for believing it ; and he supposes
also that this ultimate impulse is a better reason, the
more people there are who feel its influence. Neither
of these opinions is accurate : on the contrary, they
imply a total misconception as to the theory I am
endeavouring to explain. This theory may be re
garded as having two sides one negative and the
other positive. The negative side, the truth of which
is capable of demonstration, amounts to an asser
tion that Religion is, at any rate, no worse off than
Science in the matter of proof; that neither from the
fact (if fact it be) that Religion only imperfectly har
monises with experience, nor from the fact that
while men of science agree substantially with each
other in their methods and in their results, theolo-
1 Cf. ch. vii.
320 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
gians differ profoundly from each other in both, nor
from any other known difference between the two
systems can any legitimate conclusion be drawn as
to their comparative certitude. The positive side,
on the other hand, which cannot properly be held to
supply any rational ground of assent, and is in no
way capable of actual demonstration amounts to
this that I and an indefinite number of other per
sons, if we contemplate Religion and Science as
unproved systems of belief standing side by side,
feel a practical need for both ; and if this need is,
in the case of those few and fragmentary scientific
truths by which we regulate our animal actions, of
an especially imperious and indestructible character
on the other hand, the need for religious truth,
rooted as it is in the loftiest region of our moral
nature, is one from which we would not, if we could,
be freed. But as no legitimate argument can be
founded on the mere existence of this need or im
pulse, so no legitimate argument can be founded
on any differences which psychological analysis may
detect between different cases of its manifestation.
We are in this matter unfortunately altogether out
side the sphere of Reason. It must always be
useless to discuss whether a particular impulse
towards a creed is either of the right strength or
of the right quality to justify a belief in it ; be
cause a belief can, in strictness, be justified by no
impulse, whatever be its strength or whatever its
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 321
quality. On the other hand, let no man who
agrees with the reasoning of this Essay say, I
cannot believe in any creed which I know to be
without evidence, merely because I feel a subjec
tive need for it, unless he is prepared to limit his
beliefs to those detached scientific (or metaphysical)
propositions which are, I apprehend, the only ones
he must in practice accept whether he likes it or not,
or unless he can find some motive for believing in
Science which is not an impulse and at the same
time is not a reason. Let him, if he will, accept
Science and reject Religion, but let him not give as
an explanation of his behaviour an argument which
would be as appropriate or inappropriate if he
were engaged in showing why he accepted Religion
and rejected Science.
The doctrine that no rational justification exists
for adopting a different attitude towards the two
systems of belief, depends, it should be noted, not
only on the fact that we are without any rational
ground for believing in Science, but also on the
fact that we are without any rational ground for de
termining the logical relation which ought to subsist
between Science and Religion. The Freethinkers
habitually assume that this relation is one of depend
ence on the part of Religion, and that if there exist
any reason for believing it at all, these reasons are
to be found scattered up and down among the doc
trines of Science ; confusing apparently the historic
Y
322 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
reasoning by which particular religious truths are
established, with the deeper sentiments by which
Religion itself is produced, and in the light of which
these historic reasonings are conducted. Those,
however, who make this assumption offer no proof
of it, nor do they, so far as I know, even indicate
the kind of proof of which they conceive it to be
susceptible. They accept it, as they accept so many
other assumptions, not only without having any evi
dence for it whatever (which I should not complain
of), but without being apparently conscious that any
evidence whatever is required.
In the absence then of reason to the contrary,
I am content to regard the two great creeds by
which we attempt to regulate our lives as rest
ing in the main upon separate bases. So long,
therefore, as neither of them can lay claim to phi
losophic probability, discrepancies which exist or
may hereafter arise between them cannot be con
sidered as bearing more heavily against the one
than they do against the other. But if a really
valid philosophy, which would support Science to
the exclusion of Religion, or Religion to the ex
clusion of Science, were discovered, the case would
be somewhat different, and it would undoubtedly be
difficult for that creed which is not philosophically
established to exist beside the other while in contra
diction to it difficult, I say, not absolutely impossi
ble. In the meanwhile, unfortunately, this does not
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 323
seem likely to become a practical question. What
has to be determined now is the course which ought
to be pursued with regard to discrepancies between
systems, neither of which can be regarded as philo
sophically established, but neither of which can we
consent to surrender ; and on this subject, of course,
it is only possible to make suggestions which may
perhaps commend themselves to the practical in
stincts of the reader, though they cannot compel his
intellectual assent. In my judgment, then, if these
discrepancies are such that they can be smoothed
away by concessions on either side which do not
touch essentials, the concessions should be made ;
but if, which is not at present the case, consistency
can only be purchased by practically destroying one
or other of the conflicting creeds, I should elect in
favour of inconsistency not because I should be
content with knowledge, which being self-contradic
tory must needs be in some particulars false, but
because a logical harmony obtained by the arbitrary
destruction of all discordant elements may be bought
at far too great a sacrifice of essential and necessary
truth.
It is not probable that to these opinions (whose
correctness is, from the nature of the case, altogether
incapable of demonstration) I shall obtain the assent
of many scientific philosophers ; still less is it likely
that I shall convert any of those more declared
assailants of Theology to whom I have alluded.
Y 2
3 2 4 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
several times in this chapter. But if the arguments
of this Essay prove insufficient (as they doubtless
will) to induce these writers to agree with the Theo
logical opinions to which I adhere, perhaps they may
effect some alteration in the mode in which a per
fectly legitimate disagreement is at present ex
pressed and defended. I do not, of course, see any
reason why the Freethinkers should not continue to
derive what advantage they may, from the use of
these convenient phrases, by a judicious employ
ment of which it is possible to imply that they are
in possession of the last secrets revealed by Time,
while their adversaries are still struggling in the
toils of ancestral prejudice. There need be no
objection taken, for instance, to their advertising
their opinions as the indications of * progress, the
results of culture, or the offspring of advanced
thouo-ht. The direct facts so stated are in a sense
o
true, and the implications intended are not, perhaps,
very damaging to their opponents. But it would be
well, I think, if the sanction of Reason were less
often and less loudly invoked in favour of opinions
with which, so far as at present appears, Reason has
very little to do. It would be well if an appeal to
the religious need, instinct, impulse call it what
you will were no longer openly asserted to be an
argument in favour of Theology so weak that it
practically concedes the whole case, by writers who
would be puzzled if they were required to produce
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 325
anything better in favour of Science. And it would
be well if an examination into the truth of Religion
were less persistently inculcated as a moral duty,
incumbent on all believers, by philosophers, to
whom it never seems to occur that Religion is not
the only creed to which a rule of that kind, if valid
at all, would necessarily apply.
It is not necessary, I think, that I should add
anything more in explanation of my attitude towards
those positive beliefs which I hold in harmony with,
though not as conclusions from, the negative criticisms
contained in the body of this Essay. I am painfully
aware of how few there are, even among those few
whom the dry and abstruse character of the argument
does not repel, who are likely to be the least in sym
pathy with the point of view I have been trying to
defend. It will hardly find favour either with the
ordinary believer or with the ordinary unbeliever.
As regards the former, indeed, I console myself
by thinking that the only practical end I desire
has been in their case already attained. But as
regards the latter, I am afraid that I have said
nothing which they will even consider relevant to
their own difficulties if they have any respecting
the choice of a creed. They either ignore or are
without that religious impulse, in the absence of
which it is useless to clear away, by any merely
326 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
dialectical process, the obstructions that, did it exist,
would hinder its free development. Their case is
not one that can be reached by argument, and argu
ment is all I have to offer. Even could I command
the most fervid and persuasive eloquence, could I
rouse with power the slumbering feelings which find
in Religion their only lasting satisfaction ; could I
compel every reader to long earnestly and with
passion for some living share in that Faith which
has been the spiritual life of millions ignorant alike
of Science and Philosophy, this is not the occasion
on which to do so. I should shrink from dragging
into a controversy pitched throughout in another
key, thoughts whose full and intimate nature it is
given to few adequately to express, and which, were
I one of those few, would seem strangely misplaced
at the conclusion of this dry and scholastic argument.
In any case, however, such a task is beyond
my powers, and therefore I cannot hope that my
reasoning, even could I suppose it to be unanswer
able, will produce any but a negative effect on those
who approach the question of religious truth in
that indifferent mood which they would perhaps
themselves describe as intellectual impartiality.
There may, however, be some of another temper,
who would regard Religion as the most precious of
all inheritances if only it were true ; who surrender
slowly and unwillingly, to what they conceive to be
unanswerable argument, convictions with which yet
PRACTICAL RESULTS. 327
they can scarcely bear to part ; who, for the sake of
Truth, are prepared to give up what they had been
wont to think of as their guide in this life, their
hope in another, and to take refuge in some of the
strange substitutes for Religion provided by the
ingenuity of these latter times. It is not impossible
that to some of these, hesitating between arguments
to which they can find no reply and a creed which
they feel to be necessary, the line of thought sug
gested by this chapter may be of service. Should
such prove to be the case, this Essay will have an
interest and a utility beyond that of pure Specula
tion ; and I shall be more than satisfied.
328 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
NOTE ON THE DISCREPANCY BETWEEN
RELIGION AND SCIENCE.
IN the preceding chapter there was a good deal of refer
ence to the discrepancy which exists, or is supposed to
exist, between Religion and Science. To determine the
actual amount of such discrepancy, or even to decide
whether it has any reality or not, was in no way necessary
to my main argument ; but it may be convenient to in
dicate in a note the general view which, I should be dis
posed to take of a question which, though its importance
has been greatly exaggerated, is not without interest.
The discord between Science and Religion has refer
ence chiefly, if not entirely, to the interference by the
supernatural with the natural, which Religion requires us
to believe in ; and the amount of this discord may be
measured by the importance of the scientific doctrines
which such a belief would require us to give up, if we were
determined at all hazards to make the two systems con
sistent with each other. In discussing this subject, I shall
assume, for the sake of argument, that this interference is
not, as has been often suggested, produced immediately
by the operation of some unknown though natural law ;
but that the common opinion is correct which attributes it
to the direct action of a Supernatural Power. The ques
tion therefore we have to ask, is this : What scientific
beliefs do we contradict if we assert that a Supernatural
Power has on various occasions interfered with the opera
tion of natural laws ? We contradict, it will be replied,
RELIGION AND SCIENCE. 329
the belief in the uniformity of Nature. Is the belief
which is thus contradicted particularly important then to
Science ? So important/ many people would answer,
that it lies at the foundation of all our scientific reasoning,
as well as all of our practical judgments. This I understand
to be the opinion of the two most recent assailants of
Theology who, so far as I know, have touched on the sub
ject namely, the author of Supernatural Religion and
Mr. Leslie Stephen. The former of these, whose treatment
of the whole question suggests a suspicion that he is hardly
equal to dealing with the profounder problems which he
has undertaken to solve, I need not further allude to. Mr.
Stephen, however, may be quoted with advantage. If it
is not contrary, he says, to the laws of Nature that the
dead shall be raised, or one loaf feed a thousand men, the
occurrence of the fact does not prove that an Almighty
Being has suspended the laws of Nature. If such a phe
nomenon is contrary to the laws of Nature, then a proof
that the events had occurred would establish the inference.
But, on the other hand, it must always be simpler to be
lieve that the evidence is mistaken ; for such a belief is
obviously consistent with a belief in the uniformity of Nature,
which is the sole guarantee (whatever its origin} of our rea
soning. Really to evade Hume s reasoning is thus im
possible, &C. 1
From the sentence in this extract which I have put in
italics, it would appear that Mr. Stephen holds, and thinks
that Hume implicitly held, the doctrine that a belief in
occasional Divine interference is inconsistent with that be
lief in the uniformity of Nature which is the sole guarantee
of our reasoning. I doubt whether this was Hume s
opinion ; in any case it is incorrect.
1 English Thought in the Eighteenth Century, p. 341.
330 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
The scientific belief which, with least impropriety, may
be termed the sole guarantee of our reasoning, is that
belief in the uniformity of Nature which is equivalent to
a belief in the law of universal causation ; which again is
equivalent to a belief that similar antecedents are always
followed by similar consequents. But this belief, as the
least reflection will convince the reader, is in no way in
consistent with a belief in supernatural interference.
A belief in the uniformity of Nature, which is equi
valent to a belief that natural effects are uniformly pre
ceded by natural causes, no doubt is inconsistent with
supernatural interference ; but of what pieces of reasoning
it is our sole guarantee, except those directed to show that
in any given case the hypothesis of supernatural interfer
ence must be rejected, I am not able to say.
It is clear, then, that the most important discrepancy
which has been, or could be, alleged to exist between
Science and Religion has no real existence. The only
great general principle on which scientific philosophers
have as yet been able to rest their scientific creed is un
touched. Let us therefore now turn our attention to the
more special and derivative doctrines of Science, and con
sider how far they are affected by a belief in supernatural
interference.
In this enquiry it will be convenient to keep in mind a
distinction drawn in the fourth chapter of this essay, be
tween what were there called the abstract and the concrete
parts of Science. By the abstract parts of Science were
meant the general laws by which phenomena are con
nected ; by the concrete parts were meant (what may be
sufficiently described as) particular matters of fact.
Does, then, Theology require us to modify in any way
our beliefs concerning the abstract part of Science ? I
RELIGION AND SCIENCE. 331
apprehend that it does not. Such beliefs are in themselves
as true and as fully proved if supernatural interference be
possible as they are if such interference be impossible.
A law does not do more than state that under certain
circumstances (positive and negative) certain phenomena
will occur. If on some occasions these circumstances,
owing to supernatural interference, do not occur, the fact
that the phenomena do not follow proves nothing as to
the truth or falsehood of the law. If we believe that
oxygen and hydrogen will combine under given conditions
to produce water, we believe so none the less because we
happen also to believe that some Supernatural Power may
interpose, or has on certain occasions interposed, to prevent
that result. I need not further insist on this point, which
is obvious enough in itself, and on which I believe I am in
agreement with Mr. Mill and others who are not commonly
suspected of a theological bias.
There remains then the concrete part of Science : the
matters of fact which compose history in its widest sense,
or which belongs to that fraction of the future which
Science can pretend to foresee. Now with regard to the
former of these the question is complicated by a considera
tion which does not affect us when we are dealing with
other portions of the scientific system by the consideration,
namely, that it is a matter of controversy what, in certain
very pertinent particulars, the scientific version of history
really is. For the Theologians usually maintain that the
kind of scientific inference which I call Historical, compels a
belief in the intervention on certain occasions of supernatural
causes : a great part of what are commonly called Chris
tian evidences being indeed nothing more than a detailed
attempt to prove this thesis, just as most of the direct
attacks on Christianity are attempts to prove the precise
332 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
opposite. Now, if the Theologians are right in their
opinions on this point, there can be no discrepancy whatever
between Religion and Science as regards matters of fact,
because it is Science itself which compels us to accept the
account of miracles in which Religion teaches us to believe.
Before, therefore, discussing the nature and magnitude of
the discrepancy which is supposed to exist between them,
it would seem necessary to enter fully into all the disputes
respecting the authenticity of documents, the credibility of
witnesses, the interpretation of texts, the growth of myths,
the natural history of religions, the abstract question as to
the possibility of inferring supernatural facts from natural
data, and, in short, all the topics which supply theological
and anti-theological writers with so much material for
discussion. Such a task is of course impossible. But it
may be worth while to note the conclusions that would
have to be faced if on all these disputed questions the
Theologians are wrong and the Anti-theologians are right ;
if known natural causes are able in all cases, without strain
ing, to account for the historical facts which both sides
allow to have occurred, and if, either for this, or for some
more abstract reason, only natural causes can rationally be
admitted to have been in operation. On such a hypothesis
theological beliefs would, without doubt, modify opinions
framed out of purely scientific materials, though the modi
fication may easily be exaggerated. Regarded in their re
lation to us as men, the facts which Theology asserts to
have happened are unquestionably of transcendent import
ance. Regarded in their relation to Science, this can
hardly be maintained. As phenomena, the few events
which are said to have occurred in Palestine and elsewhere
of a supernatural character are scarcely worth noting. Be
ing supernatural, they furnish no grounds either for be-
RELIGION AND SCIENCE. 333
licving in any new law of Nature or for disbelieving any
which we had before supposed to be established ; and
being few, they are lost in the mass of facts which have
succeeded each other since the earth came into being. Is
the supernatural creation of the world, then, nothing ? the
reader may be tempted to exclaim. I have always under
stood l that this is a subject on which men of science pro
fessed to be altogether out of their sphere. What, then,
do you say about a belief in Providence, and in the possible
interference of Supernatural Power in answer to prayer ?
These, again, are not convictions which require us to
modify our adherence to known laws. They may cast,
indeed, an additional shade of doubt over our expectation
of the events which are to occur in the future, as well as
over the explanation of the events which have occurred in
the past ; and if our actual scientific inferences were (as I
have shown in the fourth chapter that they are not) of a
satisfactory character on these points, this might prove a
matter of some, though not, I think, of very great import
ance. As it is, however, the Supernatural Power is only
one of an indefinite number of known and unknown natural
powers, which we never have seen, and perhaps can never
hope to see, reduced to law, and which even if we leave
miraculous interference out of account would suffice to
make demonstrative prophecy or retrospection an absolute
impossibility.
It would appear then that the discrepancy between
Religion and Science which vanishes altogether if we take
1 If the literal interpretation of the Mosaic account of the creation
is to be accepted as an essential part of religion, no doubt the discre
pancy between Religion and Science will be greater than that stated
in the text. I have, however, assumed (in accordance with what I
understand to be the opinion of theological experts) that this is not
the case.
334 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT.
the hypothesis most favourable to the Theologians is
comparatively insignificant in its amount even on the
hypothesis most favourable to the Freethinkers : and
if many writers who certainly know a great deal about
Science, and may be supposed to know something about
Theology, are of an altogether different opinion, this may,
I apprehend, be attributed to the fact that they approach
the question with their minds completely saturated with a
theory of the logical relation which ought to subsist
between Religion and Science, according to which the
grounds, if any, for believing the first, are to be found, if
anywhere, among the doctrines of the second. It is not hard
to see that on any presupposition of this sort (combined
as it is with the assumption that Science is philosophically
established), the smallest want of harmony between the two
systems may, or rather must, lead to the most important
consequences : since the mere discovery that they are not
rationally connected would remove all ground for accept
ing the dependent creed ; while the least appearance of
contradiction would supply a positive ground for rejecting
it. As, however, I have in the preceding chapter suffi
ciently expressed my dissent from this view, it is not
necessary that I should here any further allude to it. I
merely desired to point out the principal reason which I
believe exists for the great exaggeration which is occa
sionally to be observed in the estimate of the importance
of the contradiction between current Religion and current
Science put forward by thinkers of reputation.
APP.] THE PHILOSOPHY OF ETHICS. 335
APPENDIX.
ON THE IDEA OF A PHILOSOPHY OF ETHICS.
IN this Appendix I propose to extend and apply the
remarks on the Idea of a Philosophy in general contained
in the first chapter of the Essay, to the Philosophy of
Ethics in particular. But, in order to do so, it is necessary,
in the first place, to correct an error which, in these days
when Science and the Knowable are supposed to be co-ex
tensive, is natural though not the less mischievous : the
error I mean by which Ethics is degraded to a mere section
or department of Science. At first sight, and from some
points of view, the opinion seems plausible enough. That
mankind have passed through many ethical phases (for
example) is a fact in history, and history belongs to science :
that I hold certain moral laws to be binding is a fact of my
mental being ; and, like all other such facts, is dealt with
by Psychology, also a branch of science. Physiology,
Ethnology, and other sciences all have something to say
concerning the origin and development of moral ideas in
the individual and in the race ; it is not unnatural, there
fore, that some men of science, impressed by these facts,
have claimed, or seemed to claim, Ethics for their own.
To hold such a view would be a most unfortunate error ;
not to hold clearly and definitely its contrary may lead to
much confusion ; for though, as will appear, scientific laws
form necessary steps in the deduction of subordinate ethi-
336 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [APR
cal laws, and though the two provinces of knowledge cannot
with advantage be separated in practice, still the truth
remains that scientific judgments and ethical judgments
deal with essentially different subject-matters.
Every scientific proposition asserts either the nature
of the relation of space or time between phenomena which
have existed, do exist, or will exist ; or defines the relations
of space or time which would exist if certain changes and
simplifications were made in the phenomena (as in ideal
geometry), or in the law governing the phenomena (as in
ideal physics). Roughly speaking, it may be said to state
facts or events, real or hypothetical.
An ethical proposition, on the other hand, though, like
every other proposition, it states a relation, does not state a
relation of space or time. I ought to speak the truth/ for
instance, does not imply that I have spoken, do speak, or
shall speak the truth ; it asserts no bond of causation be
tween subject and predicate, nor any co-existence nor any
sequence. It does not announce an event ; and if some
people would say that it stated a fact, it is not certainly a
fact either of the external or of the internal world.
One cause, perhaps, of the constant confusion between
Ethics and Science is the tendency there appears to be to
regard the psychology of the individual holding the moral
law as the subject-matter of Ethics, rather than the moral
law itself ; to investigate the position which the belief in such
a proposition as I ought to speak the truth holds in the
history of the race and of the individual, its causes and its
accompaniments, rather than its truth or its evidence ; to
substitute, in short, Psychology or Anthropology for Ethics.
The danger of such confusion will partly be shown by the
few remarks which, in order to carry out the train of
thought begun in the first chapter, I have to make on the
APP] THE PHILOSOPHY OF ETHICS. 337
Idea of a Philosophy of Ethics : that is, on the form which
any satisfactory system of Ethics must assume, or be able to
assume, iv/iatever be its contents.
The obvious truth that all knowledge is either certain in
itself, or is derived by legitimate methods from that which
is so, has been already, perhaps, more than sufficiently
insisted on ; and this, which is true of knowledge in gene
ral, is of course also true of ethical knowledge in particular.
A little consideration will enable us to go on, and state this
further fact, which is peculiar to Ethics. The general pro
positions which really lie at the root of any ethical system
must themselves be ethical, and can never be either scientific
or metaphysical. In other words, if a proposition announc
ing obligation require proof at all, one term of that proof
must always be a proposition announcing obligation, which
itself requires no proof. This truth must not be confounded
with that which I have just dwelt upon, namely, that
Science and Ethics have essentially different subject-matters.
This might be so, and yet Ethics might be indebted for all
its first principles to Science.
A concrete case will perhaps make clearer this axiom
of ethical philosophy. A man (let us say) is not satisfied
that he ought to speak the truth. He demands a reason,
and is told that truth-telling conduces to the welfare of
society. He accepts this ground, and apparently, there
fore, rests his ethics on what is a purely scientific assertion.
But this is not in reality the fact. There is a suppressed
premiss required to justify his conclusion, which would run
somewhat in this way, < I ought to do that which conduces
to the welfare of society. And this proposition, of course,
is ethical. This example is not merely an illustration, it
is a typical case. There is no artifice by which an ethical
statement can be evolved from a scientific or metaphysical
338 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [APP.
proposition, or any combination of such ; and whenever the
reverse appears to be the fact, it will always be found that
the assertion, which seems to be the basis of the ethical
superstructure, is in reality merely the minor of a syllo
gism, of which the major is the desired ethical principle.
If this principle be as true as it seems to me to be ob
vious, it at once alters our attitude towards a vast mass of
controversy which has encumbered the progress of moral
philosophy. So far as the proof of a basis of morals is
concerned it makes irrelevant all discussion on the origin of
moral ideas, or on the nature of moral sentiments ; and it
relegates to their proper sphere in Psychology or Anthro
pology all discussion on such subjects as association of
ideas, inherited instincts, and evolution, in so far, at least,
as these are supposed to refer to ultimate moral laws. For
it is an obvious corollary from our principle, that the origin
of an ultimate ethical belief never can supply a reason for
believing it ; since the origin of this belief, as of any other
mental phenomenon, is a matter to be dealt with by Science ;
and my thesis is, that (negatively speaking) scientific truth
alone cannot serve as a foundation for a moral system ; or
(to put it positively), if we have a moral system at all, there
must be contained in it, explicitly or implicitly, at least
one ethical proposition, of which no proof can be given or
required.
In 1 one sense, therefore, all Ethics is a priori! It is not,
and never can be, founded on experience. Whether we be
Utilitarians, or Egoists, or Intuitionists, by whatever name
we call ourselves, the rational basis of our system must be
something other than an experience or a series of experi
ences ; for such always belong to Science.
Limited indeed is the number of English Moralists who
have invariably kept this in view. However foreign it may
APP.l THE PHILOSOPHY OF ETHICS. 339
be to their various systems, an enquiry into origin or into
the universality of moral ideas always appears to slip in
not in its proper place, as an interesting psychological
adjunct, but as having an important bearing on the
authority of their particular principle. And the necessary
result, of course, of these efforts to support ultimate princi
ples is, that they cease to be ultimate, and become not only
subordinate, but subordinate to judgments which, if expli
citly stated, would very likely appear far less obvious
than they.
There is a whole school of Moralists, for example, who
find or invent a special faculty, intellectual or sensitive, by
which moral truth is arrived at ; who would regard it as a
serious blow to morality if the process by which ethical
beliefs were produced was found to be common to many
other regions of thought. Oddly enough, these are the
very people whose systems are often called a priori?
Now if by this term be meant that the ordinary maxims of
morality are (according to these systems) independent of
experience, it is appropriate enough ; but if it be meant
that they are self-evident, it is a singular misnomer. For
it is clear that on their systems rigidly interpreted those
maxims derive their evidence, not from their own internal
authority, but from the fact that they bear a certain special
relation to our mental constitution ; so that the ethical
proposition which really lies at the root of their ethics is
something of this sort : We ought to obey all laws the
validity of which is recognised by a special innate faculty,
whether called Conscience or otherwise. Now, I do not
deny that from a philosophical point of view such proposi
tions as these are possible foundations of morals ; but what
I desire to point out is that such a phrase (to take a con
crete case) as I ought to speak the truth because con-
/ 2
340 A DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT. [APP.
science commands it, may have two widely different mean
ings, and may belong to two different systems of Ethics,
not commonly distinguished. According to the first and
most accurate meaning, I ought to speak the truth is an
inference, of which the major premiss must be, I ought to
do what conscience commands, and being an inference,
cannot obviously be ah a priori law. According to the second
and inaccurate meaning, I ought to speak the truth is in
reality received on its own merits, and conscience is very
unnecessarily brought in, either to add dignity to the law,
or to account for its general acceptance among mankind,
or for some other extra-ethical reason. The first of these
views is open to no criticism from the point of view of
ethical philosophy ; so far as form is concerned it is un
assailable. But I greatly suspect that most people who
nominally found their morality on conscience really hold
the second theory ; and in that case, as I think, their state
ment is misleading, if not erroneous.
So far I have only given a negative description of the
nature of an ethical proposition. I have said, indeed, that
it announces obligation, but this statement is tautological ;
for if we knew in what obligation consi
