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THE
HUMAN INTELLECT
AN INTEODTJCTION UPON
PSYCHOLOGY AND THE SOUL.
NOAH PORTER, D. D.,
CLARK PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY AND METAPHYSICS IN YALE COLLEGE.
FOURTH EDITION.
NEW YORK :
CHARLES SCRIBNER & COMPANY.
1870.
In the Clerk'
Ehteeed according to Act of Congress, in the year lbG3, hy
CHAELES SCEIBNEE & CO.,
Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District it
New York.
THE TROW & SMITH
BOOK MANUFACTURING CO.,
40, 48, 50 Greene Si, N. Y.
Dr. ADOLF TRENDELENBURG,
OF BEELIN,
ESOFEKSOli IN THE UNIVERSITY, AND SECRETARY OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 5T0^
THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED
BESPEOT AND AFFECTION
%\)t $ttt|j0r.
PEEFAOE.
The work now offered to the public was prepared primarily and
directly as a text-book for colleges and higher schools. It was also
designed secondarily, though not less really, as a manual for more
advanced students of psychology and speculative philosophy. It was
hoped, also, that it might find a place in the libraries of some of the
many readers and thinkers who wish to form clear and well-grounded
opinions in respect to the nature and limits of human knowledge, and
to read with intelligence and satisfaction the history of philosophy.
The designs of the author in preparing the volume may serve r
part to explain the selection and arrangement of the matter of whicu
it consists, and to give greater force to a few suggestions in respect
to its use as a text-book.
1. The more important definitions, propositions, and arguments
are printed in the largest type, in distinct paragraphs, and the
paragraphs are grouped, according to the principal topics, in sepa-
rately numbered sections. The matter in this type is somewhat
technically phrased and formally propounded, in order that it may
be learned more readily for the examinations of the class-room.
At the same time the aspect of too great technical formality has
been studiously avoided by a free expansion, in somewhat varied
phraseology, of the leading doctrines and definitions of the work.
While the author has desired to avail himself fully of all the advan-
tages which accrue from formal definitions and technical terms, he
has not hesitated to repeat and illustrate his opinions in language
somewhat popular in its character, and with a less rigid adherence
to scholastic or precise terminology.
VI PREFACE.
2. The matter which is properly explanatory and illustrative ot
the leading propositions is printed in smaller type. This occupies
a large portion of the volume, and will be the most interesting to
the student and the general reader. In this part of the work the
author has used copious illustrations wherever they were needed
to render clear what might otherwise have been obscure, concrete
what might have been abstract, practical what was in danger of
being scholastic, and familiar that which required to be repeated,
Philosophical treatises and text-books fail very often of being perused
with interest and profit for lack of concrete illustrations and varied
and familiar applications ; and against these defects the author has
sought to guard this treatise. He has no fear that it will not be con-
sidered sufficiently abstruse and scientific. In preparing this part of
the work he has sought to meet the wants of both elementary and ad-
vanced students, and trusts that he has not entirely failed of success.
3. The historical, critical, and controversial matter is printed in
the smallest type, in which will be found most of that which is
especially abstruse and metaphysical. This part of the volume is
designed for a smaller and more select class of students and readers.
The insertion of matter of this kind was absolutely essential to the
usefulness of the work for the library, and was almost equally required
for its authority as a text-book with the higher classes of students.
There is at present so lively an interest in the history and criticism
of speculative opinions, and so great activity in the scrutiny of those
principles which are fundamental to physical, ethical, and theological
science, that the author felt compelled to introduce this critical and
historical matter in order to indicate the higher relations of elementary
truths, as well as to guide the student in his reading of more extended
works in the history and criticism of philosophical systems. He is
aware that his own sketches and criticisms are somewhat condensed
and abstract, but is sanguine in the opinion that some of them will
not be without value as an aid in the use of more elaborate and
minute histories of philosophy.
It would have been comparatively easy to prepare a manual
embodying the principles of psychological science, with little or
no illustration or criticism ; but a compendious manual of this kind
PREFACE. V1L
must either be so abstractly dry as to be unintelligible ; or so super-
ficial as not to command the respect of the learner and reader ; or
so imaginative as to fail to inspire confidence. The applications
of metaphysical philosophy must be familiarized to the mind by
ample illustrations and frequent repetition, in order that the meaning
and importance of the principles themselves may be understood and
appreciated.
The following suggestions in respect to the use of the volume as a
text-book may not be unacceptable. The matter in the largest type
ought, in general, to regulate the length of the lessons. The examin-
ations upon this should invariably be minute and severe. The
explanatory and illustrative matter may be enforced more or less
rigidly, or not at all, according^ to the interest and capacity of the
student, and the methods and aims of the instructor. The less capable
and less ambitious student may perhaps be held to the leading propo-
sitions, and to a very general acquaintance with the explanatory and
illustrative matter. The more gifted and aspiring may be encouraged
to master as much of this, and as thoroughly, as he is disposed, and
may be ranked and rewarded accordingly. Such of the discussions
as might be more intelligibly and profitably studied on a second
perusal, may be reserved for the review. The historical and critical
notes may be used as topics and guides for more minute researches
and more exact criticisms, in written essays, by students and readers
still more advanced. The volume is capable of being used in the
various methods which have been indicated, and allows liberal oppor-
tunities for the skill and invention of the teacher. The marginal or
side-notes are designed for the convenience of both pupils and teachers,
and are reprinted in the synoptical table of contents.
The philosophy taught in this volume is pronounced and posi-
tive in the spiritual and theistic direction, as contrasted with the
materialistic and anti-theistic tendency which is so earnestly de-
fended by its advocates as alone worthy to be called scientific.
The author, though earnest in his own opinions, has aimed to adhere
most rigidly to the methods of true science, and to employ no argu-
ments which he did not believe would endure the severest scrutiny.
Vlll PREFACE.
While his criticisms of opposing systems may seem to be polemical, he
trusts they are not open to the charge of being unjust or unscientific.
It is with some diffidence that the author brings to the tribunal
of public criticism the results of his solitary and almost unaided
studies. Studies of this kind must, from their very nature, be prose-
cuted in a lonely way, and with the disadvantage of being often
subjected to a superficial or partisan criticism. The publication
of their results almost necessarily involves a critical, and often a
controversial judgment of the opinions of others. As a writer upon
such subjects cannot, if he would, avoid criticising others, so he ought
not himself to expect or desire to be exempt from the severest
ordeal of criticism, provided his own opinions are fairly and fully
stated, and the counter opinions are thoroughly reasoned. The
author has been tempted to delay the publication of his own opinions
by the desire to mature them into a more complete philosophical
system ; but he did not think it right to do this for an indefinite
period, especially at a time when the need of a comprehensive manual
for higher instruction has been very extensively acknowledged, and
when there is inculcated, in forms that are varied and imposing, a
psychology that seems to him at once to be pretentious and superficial,
and to involve a philosophy that is either defective or erroneous.
The author expects, if he continues to labor in the field of his
chosen studies, to be able himself to detect some of the inadvertencies
and errors into which he may have fallen. Should he be aided in
doing this by the labors of friendly or unfriendly critics, he hopes to
remember the words of the acute and excellent Berkeley : " Truth is
the cry of all, but the game of a few. Certainly, when it is the chief
passion, it doth not give way to vulgar cares and views ; nor is it con-
tented with a little ardor in the early time of life ; active, perhaps, to
pursue, but not so fit to weigh and consider. He that would make a
real progress in knowledge must dedicate his age as well as youth ;
the later growth as well as first-fruits, at the altar of Truth. ' Cujus-
vis est crrare, nullius nisi insipientis in error e per sever are.' "
NOAH POKTEK.
Tale College, October, 1868.
TABLE O
ES"TS.
INTRODUCTION
PSYCHOLOGY AND THE SOUL.
I. — Psychology Defined and Vindicated 5
§ 1. Psychology and kindred terms. § 2. Psychology a science — Limited to the human soul.
§ 3. Relations to physiology and anthropology. § 4. Phenomena known by consciousness. § 5.
Its phenomena impel to scientific study — Are legitimate objects of science — Prejudices against
psychology and metapbysics. §6. Value of psychology. It requires and promotes self-know-
ledge— Trains to self-control. §7. Trains to the knowledge of human nature. §8. Is indispen-
sable to educators— Variety of Educators. §9. It aids in moral culture. §10. Disciplines for
the study of literature — Is not unfavorable to creative power. § 11. Disciplines to moral reflec-
tion. § 12. Psychology the mother of the sciences which relate to man— Its relation to ethics —
To political and social science — To law — To aesthetics — To theology. § 13. Special relation to
logic and metaphysics — Relation of logic to metaphysics — Psychology subject to, yet before logic
and metaphysics — Why psychology is so often called philosophy. § 14. A discipline to method,
II. — The Relations of the Soul to Matter.
16
§ 15. Psychology a branch of physics; in what sense. § 16. Why, then, are its facts at first
distrusted by the philosopher ? § 17. Material phenomena are the earliest known. § 18. Materi-
alistic misgivings and impressions. § 19. These should be disproved ; in what way. § 20. The
arguments of the materialist ; the soul is connected with a body — The soul is developed with the
body — Is dependent on the body for its knowledge and enjoyment — Also for its energy and
activity — It terminates a series of material existences — Conclusion of the materialist. § 21. Coun-
ter arguments. Its phenomena unlike material phenomena — The soul distinguishes itself from
matter — The soul is self-active — Is not dependent on matter in its highest activities — Grada-
tions of existence do not prove it to be material — § 22. The phenomena of the soul real. § 23.
Phenomena of one sort cannot be judged by those of another. § 24. The phenomena and lan-
guage in which they are described. § 25. Misleading influence of language.
The Belations of the Soul to Life and Living- Beings. — 1.
Life and living
29
§ 25. Reasons for discussing the subject further — Terms defined and question stated —
Opinions of the ancient philosophers — Opinions of the moderns — Various appellations for vital
force — Life originates only from a living being — The process of nutrition and growth peculiar
— Growth proceeds after a plan — Matter changes, but form is preserved — Life admits repair —
Opposite views stated and defined — Carpenter's illustration and argument — Two other expedients
resorted to — Not enough that they are possible — Supposed special conditions — Organization re-
sorted to— Also creative power— Vital force admits of decay— No objection that it is individual.
2. Relations of the Soul to Life. , 36
History of opinions— Vital phenomena precede the psychical— The energy of the two propor-
tional—Sometimes inversely ? — The conscious depend on unconscious activities— The soul acts on
X- TABLE OF CONTENTS.
matter — The soul adapted to the body — The body is moulded by the soul — The body manifests the
soul — Objections ; the two cannot be related — But they are related — Animals and plants must
have souls— Inconsistent with the soul's immortality — Consciousness testifies to the opposite.
EH. — The Faculties op the Soul 40
§ 26. Question concerning the faculties. § 27. Faculties not parts or organs — Faculties often
misconceived — Each faculty does not act at a separate time. § 2S. States of the soul like and
unlike one another — Elements like and unlike in quality — Dependent on one another — One ele-
ment preponderant in each state — Elements as related to agent, act, and object. § 29. Faculty
defined ; general authority — Special authority. § 30. These faculties common to all men—But
not in the same proportion. § 31. The faculties not independent of one another. § 32. Rela-
tion of faculties in education. § 33. Illustrates the unity of the soul — Unity : mechanical, che-
mical, organic — Psychical unity is higher. § 34. Unity does not exclude complexness. § 35.
Powers of the soul threefold— History of the division into faculties— Modern opponents of facul-
ties. § 36. Power, faculty, capacity. § 37. Function, state, phenomenon.
IV. — Is Psychology a Science ? — Can there he a Science of the Human
Soul? and what are its Principles and Methods f . . 51
§ 38. Materials of Psychology ; and inductive science — Is also the science of induction. § 39.
Psychology too vague ; not mathematical — Reply : .would render a science of life impossible.
§ 40. Views of materialists. § 41. The cerebralists' theory — Their theory refuted — They suppose
consciousness. § 42. The phrenological theory — In what sense is the brain the soul's organ.
§ 43. The Associationalist theory — Explanation of necessary truths— Error of the associationalists
— Usuallv materialistic — Theory of Herbart. § 44. Metaphysical or a 'priori Psychology. § 45.
Psychology of the German schools.
THE HUMAN INTELLECT.
Its Function, Development, and Faculties 61
A PKELIMINAEY CHAPTEE.
§46. Knowledge defined; what is it to know?— To know is an active operation— Exercised
under conditions — These conditions or objects are diverse : subject-objects and object-objects.
§ 47. The process which prepares objects of knowledge. § 48. To know implies the certainty of
being— Beings or realities differ in their kind. § 49. Also the reality of their relations— Objec-
tions—The truth admitted directly and indirectly— No objects without relations— Existence not
known before or apart from relations. § 50. Knowledge of two forms ; analysis and synthesis.
§ 51. Objects and relations different and numerous. § 52. When is the process of knowledge
complete ? § 53. The act diverse in its energy ; attention. § 54. Some objects more easily dis-
cerned than others. § 55. Intellectual development ; the psychological order. § 56. The logical
relation of processes and products. § 57. Empirical and philosophical knowledge. § 58. These
relations do not always coincide— The critical stage of knowledge. § 60. Order of intellectual
development and growth. § 61. Order and rules for intellectual culture. § 62. Principles of
classifying the powers of the intellect. §63. Faculties enumerated. §64. The presentative
faculty— Its objects ; how distinguished— Its conditions. § 65. The representative faculty— Its
objects— Its conditions ; association of ideas. § 66. Thought or intelligence, developed last
of all— Its products— The conditions of thought— Two aspects or forms of thought.
TABLE OF CONTENTS. XI
PART FIRST.
PRESENTATION AND PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE.
CHAPTER I. — Consciousness. I. Natural Consciousness. . 83
§ 67. Consciousness defined— Applied to the power and its acts. § 68. Consciousness used to
designate knowledge of any kind. § 69. A collective term for all the intellectual states. § 70.
Metaphorical definitions of consciousness. § 71. Proper meaning of consciousness. § 72. Apper-
ception ; why so called. § 73. Consciousness and reflection as defined and used by Locke. § 74.
Two forms of its activity. § 75. Natural consciousness defined as an act ; necessary to many acts
— An act of knowledge involving relations and product — A peculiar act ; in its conditions. § 76.
Peculiar in the language by which it is described. § 77. Consciousness the object— Psychical
states, complex objects. § 78. Relation of consciousness to each of these elements. § 79. These
elements not always viewed with equal attention. § 80. The activity may be chiefly noticed.
§ 81. Consciousness of the ego — Involved in the nature of a psychical state — If not known could
not be inferred — Proved by every act of memory — Admitted by those who deny it — The relations
to the ego not always reflected on— The Ego not the whole substance of the soul. § 82. Conscious-
ness of the object. § 83. Summary respecting the object of consciousness. § 84. The object
of consciousness is a being — Special import of cogito, ergo sum— Skepticism emphatically
excluded — The conscious act does not create its object by the act. § 85. Validity of relations also
established — The soul a microcosm — All the categories involved in consciousness — Man assumed
to be the image of God. § 86. Development and growth of consciousness — Unconscious life —
Sensation and self-feeling — Sensations discriminated — Emotions distinguished from sensations
—The self not the ego— Differences in individuals— The capacity for consciousness not developed
— Consciousness not a product of circumstances. § 87. Latent modifications of consciousness —
Consciousness susceptible of degrees.
CHAPTER II. — Reflective, or Philosophical Consciousness. . 104
§ 88. The reflective contrasted with the natural consciousness. § 89. The reflective con-
sciousness defined — The morbid consciousness in children and adults — The ethical conscious-
ness. § 90. The scientific reflective consciousness. § 91. Characterized by persistent attention.
§ 92. It attends to all the psychical phenomena. § 93. Compares and classifies them. § 94. In-
terprets and explains them by power and laws. § 95. Relations of the philosophical to the natu-
ral consciousness. § 96. Does the philosophical consciousness impart new knowledge — Illustrated
by the knowledge of the ego and of the self. § 97. Office of language in respect to each— Language
does not create the facts — Dangers of mere technology and system — The language of common life
sometimes the safest — How much do uncultivated men know? — The language of common life
useful. § 98. The actions of men also an important test of truth. § 99. Conditions of reaching
the decisions of consciousness. § 100. Uncertainty and slow progress of psychology explained.
§ 101. Peculiar difficulties in the study of the soul.
PRESENTATION AND PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE.
II. SENSE-PERCEPTION.
CHAPTER III. — Sense-Perception — The Conditions and the Pro-
cess. 119
§ 102. Sense-perception defined and distinguished. § 103. Is developed earliest of all the
powers; seems to be the most familiar. §104. Is not the most easily understood. §105. Distin-
guished from other mental acts — Knowledge of matter, not gained by sense-perception. § 106.
Knowledge that is gained by sense-perception. § 107. Results of analysis— Eight topics proposed.
Xll TABLE OF CONTENTS.
I. The Conditions or Media of Sense-Perception. 123
§ 108. The conditions enumerated — The first condition— The material organism— The nervoua
system — The sensorium — The reflex action of the nerves. § 109. The second condition is an
object or excitant. § 110. The third condition ; its action on the sensorium.
ii. The Process of Sense- Perception 127
§111. The process of sense-perception in the simplest form; what?— It is psychical, not
physiological — It is complex ; of two elements— The elements unequal in energy ; in the same
and the different senses. § 112. Sensation proper pertains to the soul. § 113. Yet experi-
enced by the soul connected with an organism. § 114. The sensations localized. § 115. Differ
from one another in quality and definiteness. § 116. Perception proper, an act of pure
knowledge; its object. §117. Its object a non-ego •> what kind of a non-ego. §118. An ex-
tended non-ego. § 119. Perception attends all the senses — The extension and externality ; all ob-
jects not given with equal clearness. § 120. The varying relations of sensation and perception
proper— In different sensations of the same sense.
CHAPTER IV. — Classes of Sense-Perceptions, . . 135
§121. Three classes of sense -perception ; the muscular— Ranked as the lowest. §122. The
organic — Common sensibility. § 123. The special sense-perceptions— Smell : Its organ, conditions,
and objects — Names and character of the sensations — They are sense-perceptions. § 124. Taste :
Organs and objects — Variety of the sensations — How designated — Gratifications — Objective rela-
tions. § 125. Hearing : its organ — Sonorous bodies ; how characterized — The sensations various
— In what respects distinguishable — Sounds in succession and combination ; melody and harmony.
§ 126. The condition of oral language — Expressive of feeling — The dignity of hearing— Sounds ;
sense-perceptions. §127. The sense of touch; organ — Weber's experiments — Essential condition
of touch. § 128. Variety of sensations involved in touch— Sensations proper of gentle touch —
Sensations involving violence or injury — Sensations of temperature — Sensations of pressure and
weight — The muscular sensations — Sensations localized. § 129. Perceptions proper of touch —
Extension and externality perceived in the concrete — Perception of extension by touch ; not ex-
plicable by extension in the organism — Physiological conditions and psychical act— Not by local
signs — The sensorium known as extended — § 130. The perception of externality by touch — Two
meanings of externality — Externality in the first signification — Brown's theory — Externality in the
second signification. § 131. Sense of touch the leading sense — Furnishes intellectual terms. § 132.
Sight ; its organ — The conditions of vision — Function of the image on the retina — Sensations proper
of vision. § 133. Perception proper in vision ; the object — Is always extended — Visible extension
superficial only — Contrary view ; the stereoscope. § 134. A single object seen with two eyes.
§ 135. Original place of the visible percept. § 136. Dignity of the eye.
CHAPTER V. — The Acquired Sense-Perceptions, . . .158
§ 137. Sense-perceptions original and acquired. § 138. Importance of, and time of gaining
the acquired perceptions. § 139. The acquired perceptions of smell — The acquired perceptions
of hearing. §140. Acquired perceptions of sight ; distance judged by size. — Judgments of mag-
nitude by distance — Judgments of distance by color, outline, clearness, etc. — Judgments of size
by other equidistant objects — Influence of intermediate objects. § 141. Judgments of form, etc.,
by sight. §142. Form, distance, and magnitude ; how far learned from touch. § 143. Acquired
sense-perceptions of our own body — Acquired perceptions required to manage and control the
body. § 144. What does nature provide in the construction and impulses of the body ? — Arrange-
ments and impulses for bodily expression — Arrangements for the combined activity of different
parts. § 145. How does the intellect avail itself of these arrangements? — How we learn to talk —
How we learn to walk— Feats of dexterity; expressional effects — Summary and inferences.
§ 146. The errors of the senses explained — How distinguished from another class. § 147. The
acquired perceptions as acts of knowledge. § 148. They involve induction— Reasons why infants
can make these inductions. § 149. Objections from the case of animals — Reasons why the per-
ceptions of animals and of man should differ.
TABLE OF CONTENTS. Xlll
CHAPTER VI. — Development and Growth of Sense-Percep*
tion. 178
§ 150. Nature, interest, and difficulty of the problem. § 151. The problem perplexing to the
imagination, but not insolvable to the intellect— Data and grounds of inference. § 152. The in-
tellect and soul before sense-perception begins — The beginnings and development of attention.
§ 153. Muscular and vital perceptions first developed — Hearing, taste and smell. § 154. The eye
and the hand; which acts first? — We begin with the hand. § 155. Extra-organic non-ego ; how
perceived — Combination of muscular and tactual perceptions — Space-relations of the extra-
organic ; how acquired— Hamilton's theory of the perception of the extra-organic. § 156. With
the eye another problem begins — Observations upon infants. § 157. Development of vision.
— Why percepts of vision are projected in space — Most plausible explanation. § 158. The con-
nection of the hands as seen and the hands as touched — The world of the eye and the world of
the hand. § 159. Other acquisitions of infancy — How the world appears to an infant. § 160. The
blind from birth, upon the recovery of sight.
CHAPTER VII. — The Products of Sense-Perception, or the Per-
ception of Material Things. 192
§ 161. Material things and sense-percepts. § 162. By what relations are percepts made into
things ? § 163. The first stage of perception ; when complete. § 164. Material things capable
of various significations — Percepts recalled under relations of time. §165. The second stage;
the relation of substance and attribute — General definition of this relation. § 166. Relations
most frequently used as attributes — Sensations of smell, taste, and sound, first used as attributes —
Coexistence in space and time previous to substance and attribute — This relation supposes reflex
and indirect knowledge — This relation denied to sense-perception ; Kant ; Hamilton. § 167. Of
touch and sight percepts conjoined; which is substance and which is attribute? §168. When
either are taken alone. § 169. Attributive quality of form and size. § 170. Conditions of per-
manent perception — Ideation of sense-objects. § 171. When is perception complete ? § 172. First
condition of completed perception : energy, contrast, and resemblance — Resemblances and con-
trasts, objective and subjective — Force of contrast. § 173. Second condition is motion. § 174.
Third condition, repetition — Need of repetition according to the receptive school. § 175. Need
of repetition according to the active school ; because it excites greater interest — In single percepts
— This as true of things as it is of percepts. § 176. Repetition more essential for the mastery of
large and complex objects — Some objects are beyond the natural limits of the soul — The first per-
ception often a mere effort of discovery and selection — Very large and complex objects require
repetition — More frequent repetition if the objects are irregular. § 177. Fourth condition of suc-
cessful perception is familiarity. § 178. Repetition not necessarily recognition. § 179. Continu-
ance of time necessary for successful perception — Feats of jugglery involve quickness of move-
ment. § 180. Can we attend to more than one thing at a time ? — Objections to Stewart's theory
— Attention to an object and its image — The mind can attend to more than one thing at a time
— Can the mind use the utmost attention upon more than one object ?
CHAPTER VIII. — Activity of the Soul in Sense-Percep-
tion 210
§ 181. Sense-perception held to be passive only — Grounds on which the theory rests. § 182.
That the soul is active is attested by consciousness. § 183. Its activity is developed by degrees,
and to varying perfection — Attention the condition of success and progress. § 184. Differences
in the perceptions of the same and of different men. § 185. Different modes of this activity; in-
nervation of the organs — Partial suspension of certain organs. § 186. The attention fixes upon
selected objects. § 187. Activity shown in selecting and combining sense-objects — The recog-
nition of this activity important for the explanation of imagination and memory. § 188. This ac-
tivity in selection and combination shown in early life — The same activity continued in mature
life. § 189. Differences in special activities of adults. § 190. This activity directed and stimu-
lated by the interest felt in the object. § 191. This activity is a limited and dependent activity.
§ 192. Is elementary and easily exercised. § 193. Sense-perception ; summary and review.
XIV TABLE OF CONTENTS.
CHAPTER IX.— Theories of Sense-Perception. . . 221
§ 194. These theories universal — Determined by the prevailing philosophy — Theii reflex influ-
ence often mischievous — Why especially liable to be erroneous— More usually theories of vision.
§ 195. The early Greek philosophers — Diogenes of Apollonia — Heraclitus and Empedocles—
Democritus. § 196. The Socratic school— Plato — Aristotle — The intellectual element— The com-
mon, sensory or percipient — Matter and form, or species. § 197. The schoolmen — Their doctrine
of species. § 198. Gassendi, P., 1592-1655. § 199. Descartes, R., 1596-1650— Geulincx, 1625-
1699— Malebranche, N., 1688-1715. § 200. Arnauld, A., 1612—1694. § 201. John Locke, 1632-
1704. § 202. Berkeley, Geo., 16S4-1753— David Hume, 1711-1776. § 203. Dr. Thomas Reid, 1710-
1796. § 204. Dugald Stewart, 1753-1828. § 205. Dr. Thomas Brown, 1778-1820. § 206. Sir
William Hamilton, 1788-1856. § 207. De Condillac, S. B.„ 1715-1780. § 208. Laromiguiere, P.,
1756-1837. § 209. Royer Collard, P. P., 1763-1845. § 210. Maine de Biran,P. P. G., 1766-1824.
§ 211. Leibnitz, G. W., 1646-1716. § 212. Tetens, J. N., 1736-1807. § 213. Immanuel Kant, 1724-
1804. § 214. Herbart, J. F., 1776-1841. § 215. Schleiermacher, 1768-1834. § 216. John Miiller,
1801-1858.
PART SECOND.
EEPRESENTATION AND KEPPwESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE.
CHAPTER I. — The Representative Power Defined and Ex-
plained. 248
§ 217. Representation defined — Not limited to sensible objects — Is also a creative power.
§ 218. Appellations for the power — Appellations in common use. § 219. Objects of the representa-
tive power — Are individual and not general — In what sense these objects are the same. § 220.
These objects involve relations — Relations peculiar to Representation itself— No technical name
for the objects of this power. § 221. Conditions and laws of representation considered. § 222.
Representation divided into several varieties — Perfect memory — Imperfect memory — Phantasy —
Imagination ; its varieties — The mathematical imagination — Phantasy proper — Poetic fancy —
Poetic imagination in the higher sense — Philosophical imagination. § 223. Interest and impor-
tance of the representative power.
CHAPTER II. — The Representative Object — its Nature and Im-
portance ... 258
§ 224. Why the object of Representation needs special discussion.
I. The Nature and Mode of Existence of the Representative Object. . . . 259
§ 225. They are psychical objects. § 226. Are transient and short-lived objects. § 227. They
should be distinguished from spectra and hallucinations— They are intellectual objects.
ii. The relation of the Representative Idea to the Original. . . . 261
§ 228. The relation can be compared with no other — Two classes of representative objects.
§ 229. Representative ideas of consciousness and sense-perception do not resemble their objects
—Contradictions in such a theory. § 230. In memory and recognition no discernment of resem-
blance; none in simple memory — None in recognition — The acts of memory and recognition
known by consciousness only — Alternation of perception, memory, and recognition. § 231. Men-
tal pictures less exciting than real objects. § 232. A mental picture consists of fewer elements
than a real object. § 233. The mental picture is recalled in parts, slowly, and by successive acta
—Example from a scene in nature, as seen and remembered— Objects of imagination.
TABLE OF CONTENTS. XV
m. The usefulness of Ideas in Thought and Action. . 266
§ 234. In thought we prefer ideas to realities— The idea presents fewer features than th«
reality. § 235. Ideas especially useful in comparison — In higher generalizations, still fewer
elements are required. § 236. The nature and service of the schema. § 237. Images prepare for
and aid to action.
CHAPTER III. — The Conditions and Laws of xvepeesentatton — the
Association of Ideas 269
§ 238. Association of ideas ; general fact ; various terms. § 239. Importance and interest oi
the subject — Association used to explain all other facts and laws. § 240. Method of discussion
and inquiry.
I. The Primary Laws of Association 272
§ 241. Association not explained by bodily organization. § 242. Defect of all physiological
and corporeal theories — Facts relating to the connection of the body with the imagination and
memory. § 243. How these facts can be accounted for and explained — Any disturbance of th
bodily state introduces disturbing sensations. § 244. The vital sensations, though vague, ma*
be links in a chain of associations. § 245. The laws of association cannot be referred to any
attractive power in ideas as such— Herbart's theory of the attraction of ideas. § 246. Nor into
the force of relations as such— These relations variously classed — Relations of place— Relations of
time — Both in conjunction — Relations of similarity and contrast — Relations of cause and effect —
Of means and end, etc. — Are not other relations supposable ? — Cannot these relations be reduced
to a single law ? § 247. The law of redintegration — Will this explain all these particular cases ?
— The relations of time, space, and causation — The relation of similarity occasions difficulty —
How the difficulty is resolved. § 248. The parts and wholes are not the same, but similar. § 249.
The explanation is not in the objects, but in the mind's activity — The real explanation ; how
enounced — This principle explains the force of succession— Explains the power of feeling over the
associations. § 250. Explains the predominance of special associations. § 251. Explains the in-
fluence of sensible objects — Associations with home. § 252. Explains the power of bodily states.
§ 253. Explains why a part and not the whole is often represented. § 254. Explains why relations
are so important. § 255. Finally, why certain classes of relations give the laws of association.
h. The Secondary Laws of Association 286
§ 256. The secondary laws defined— The same enumerated. § 257. How far reducible to
the same principle with the primary — The force of repetition — The recentness of the object
thought of— The memory of old age — The force of entangling relations — Natural aptitudes. § 25S.
Apparent exceptions to the law of association. §259. Two theories for their explanation. §260.
Representation unceasingly active. § 261. Objective interruptions to this activity. § 262.
Subjective interruptions. § 263. Association not the only nor the most important power — Depen-
dent very largely upon the emotions and will. § 264. Indirect control over the associations —
Illustrations from common phenomena. § 265. Law of association and law of habit — Which is
resolvable into the other ? § 266. Theory of habit— Supposes some difficulty to be overcome —
Bodily habits. § 267. Mental habits ; obstacles to be overcome— Wherein the difficulty lies-
Emotional and moral habits. § 268. Higher and lower laws of association— In what sense higher
and lower. § 269. The higher often prevail over and displace the lower. Absent-mindedness ex-
plained. § 270. The lower displace the higher. § 271. The lower associations affect the feelings
most efficiently — How and why fashions change — The moral influence of casual associations.
§ 272. Influence of casual associations upon language — Force of epithets and names — Their in-
fluence in philosophy.
CHAPTER IY. — Representation. — (1.) The Memory, or Recognizing
Faculty. 300
§ 273. The elements essential to an act of memory. § 274. These elements may be recalled
with unequal perfection— The object proper, of the original act — The original act of knowledge—
XVI TABLE OP CONTENTS.
Its relations of time— Its relations of place. § 275. The act of recognition may vary in positive
ness— Do we never distrust the memory? — Do we not offer reasons far trusting it? § 276.
Memory technically defined. § 277. Representation the first element of memory— Recognition,
the second element. § 278. The spontaneous and intentional memory. § 279. The spontaneous
memory. § 280. Original differences in the spontaneous memory — The relations peculiar to it.
§ 281. The value of a good spontaneous memory. § 282. The combination of a spontaneous and
rational memory. § 283. The intentional memory defined— The object vaguely known already.
§ 284. The object sought for related to an object known — Several ways of recovering the object
sought for. § 285. The active element prominent — Must avail itself of the passive element.
§ 286. Memory as the power to retain. § 287. The power to retain ; how accounted for— Figura-
tive language concerning the memory. § 288. The ready and the tenacious memory. § 289. For-
getfulness — Degrees and varieties of forgetfulness. § 290. Is entire forgetfulness possible ? — Sin-
gular cases of the recovery of forgotten knowledge. § 291. Dependence of the memory upon
the bodily condition — Dependence upon the season and the time of the day. § 292. Dependence
on the condition of the body in the act of recalling — Sudden loss of memory. § 293. How these
cases are explained— May all knowledge be recovered. § 294. Varieties of memory ; how ex-
plained. § 295. Development of memory ; the memory of infancy. § 296. The memory of
childhood and youth. § 297. Self-culture of the memory. § 298. The memory of manhood.
§ 299. The memory of old age. § 300. Special and individual varieties of memory. § 301. Varie-
ties of memory depend on objects and their relations — The memory of the undisciplined mind.
§ 302. The memory of the young and of older persons. § 303. The men of universal memory :
Niebuhr and Pascal. § 304. The memory of the ancients. § 305. The laws of memory should
be regarded in education. § 306. How can the memory be cultivated ?— Fundamental principles
and rules. § 307. Artificial memory, or mnemonics — Value of mnemonics— Objections to mnemo-
nics— When are they useful ? — General Bern's Historical mnemonics. § 308. Coleridge's arts of
memory. § 309. The moral elements of a good memory — How to destroy and confound the memory.
CHAPTER V. — Representation. — (2.) The Phantasy, ok Imaging
Power 325
§310. Phantasy defined and illustrated — Reverie; Infancy; Old age — Why phantasy infre-
quent. Trains of association. §311. Fainting; Sleep; Distraction. §312. Three suppositions
possible of the states in question — The power of association is operative in them all — Deviations
accounted for — (1.) By changes in the relative proportion of the powers — (2.) By the bodily states
— (3.) By other peculiarities in the materials on which it works. § 313. More particular consid-
eration of the conditions of representation — Unnoticed bodily states maybe reproduced in dream-
ing, etc. — The pre-conscious experiences and states— The bodily condition excites peculiar images
—The creative power of the phantasy not to be denied.
i. Sleep as a Condition of the Body, or Sleep Physiologically considered. 831
§ 314. The senses, in sleep, are more or less inert — They are not controlled by the soul — The
vegetative, circulatory, and respiratory life — Recent discoveries and conclusions — These condi-
tions vary in proportion and degree. § 315. The soul falls asleep by degrees — One sense may
sleep, and others may be awake.
ii. Sleep as a Condition of the Soul, or, Sleep considered Psychologically. 333
§ 316. Does the soul cease to act in sleep ?— Reasons why many believe it never ceases to act-
Opinions of Descartes, Locke, and Leibnitz. § 317. The soul, in sleep, acts with feebler energy—
The powers also act with unequal and varying energy. § 318. The representative power in sleep.
§319. Is irregular and capricious ; Reasons. § 320. The judgments erroneous and wild; why?
§ 321. The reasoning and other higher functions, in dreams. § 322. Self-consciousness in dreams.
8 323. Estimates of time in dreams. § 324. Moral responsibility in dreams. § 325. The emotional
powers in dreams. § 326. The activity of the will in dreams. § 327. Three kinds of somnambu-
lism. § 328. Natural somnambulism defined. § 329. Magnetic somnambulism— The natural and
magnetic distinguished. § 330. Disease manifested by a disturbance of the equilibrium of the
powers. §331. Representation active in somnambulism. §332. Some of the sense-perceptions act
TABLE OF CONTENTS. XVH
with surprising energy. §333. Does the somnambulist perceive at all with the senses? — Th6
sense-perceptions, though acute, are limited — This extraordinary acuteness not without analogies.
§ 334. Can the somnambulist have sense-perceptions without the sense-organs ? — First, of neai
objects — Second, of objects remote — Third, of the interior of the body. § 335. Fourth, other
extraordinary intellectual activities — His attention is concentrated — And occupied with few
objects — Also with familiar objects — The efforts are occasional and single — The power of divina-
tion and prophecy. § 336. The somnambulist usually forgets his dream when he wakes. § 337.
The somnambulist remembers a previous somnambulic state — Capacity for alternating states and
activities. § 338. The artificial somnambulism ; Induced by the agency of another person. § 339.
Hypnotism explained — How related to somnambulism. § 340. How one mind is controlled by
another. § 341. Still higher claims. § 342. Hallucinations, apparitions, etc. § 343. Hallucina-
tions and spectra, not psychical representations. § 344. Insanity.
CHAPTER VI. — Representation. — (3.) The Imagination, ok Ceeative
Powee. .... 351
§ 345. Subject and method of inquiry— Conditions and materials common to the imagination
— Space and time — Thought conceptions and relations — The imagination limited to material
qualities— Limited also to known spiritual powers. § 346. It creates new products ; In relation
to space and time — In the size of material objects — In their relative position — It changes material
forms — It alters the relations of time. § 347. It creates mathematical entities ; In geometry — In
arithmetic and algebra. § 348. In matter, it separates and recombines parts and properties.
§ 349. It can combine spiritual beings with wholes and parts of matter — Imaginary intellectual
and emotional creations. § 350. Products under thought-relations. § 351. How does the imagina-
tion create ? "^
i. The Combining and arranging Office of the Imagination. . . 357
§ 352. It combines and arranges parts and wholes — Limits and laws of the produets evolved.
ii. The Idealization of the relation of Space and Time in the Creations of Art
and the Constructions of Mathematical Science. .... 358
§ 353. It constructs ideals of mathematics and art — These products suggested by, not
copied from nature. § 354. Geometrical and arithmetical quantities.
in. The Formation of an Ideal Standard for Psychical Acts and States. . 359
§ 355. The imagination idealizes psychical acts and states. § 356. It expresses them by sense
objects. § 357. The products of the creative imagination ; What is an ideal ? — The ideals are not
images, but images viewed in limited relations — The ideals of the artist; and inventor — Psychical
and ethical ideals. § 358. Ideals founded on and related to individual experience. § 359. The
imagination is capable of growth and culture — The imagination accompanies all the psychical acts.
§ 360. Is developed from the earliest till the latest periods of life. § 361. Nature educates the
imagination. § 362. The educated imagination meets the exigencies which call it forth.
Special Applications of the Imagination. — (a) The Poetic Imagination. 366
§ 363. The imagination modifies and is modified by the other powers — The poetic imagination
— The sources or materials of poetry — Preeminently human truth — Poetry simple, sensuous, and
passionate — Poetry, in its higher forms, unites and fuses — In its lower, it separates and scatters—
Its medium is language.
(h) Tlie Philosophic Imagination. ........ 368
1 364. Relations of the imagination to thought and science— Relations to invention and dis-
covery— The poetical and philosophical imagination nearly allied— Objections to this view. § 366.
In communicating philosophic truth.
XV111 TABLE OF CONTENTS.
(c) The Ethical Imagination 871
§ 367. Ethical relations of the imagination— Relation of ideals to our happiness. § 368. Ideals
of life necessarily ethical — Ideals of duty may be changed and improved.
(d) Imagination and Eeligious Faith 373
§ 369. Relation of the imagination to religious faith— "We must imagine as well as believe
in spiritual facts — The process ; and its trust-worthiness. § 370. The imagination limited in
its pictures of another state of being. §371. Common relations in the finite and the infinite-
Necessary cautions in conceiving and interpreting revelation.
PART THIRD.
THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE.
CHAPTER I. — Thought-knowledge Defined and Explained. 377
§372. To what processes are the terms applied? — The relation of these processes to man's
higher knowledge— The dignity of thought-processes. § 373. The thought-processes illustrated
by an example— The apple as substance and attribute— Abstraction and generalization— Classi-
fication and naming — Geometrical and numerical relations — Cause and effect — Induction — Adapta-
tion and design — Example from spiritual being. § 374. Thinking and thought defined. § 375.
The use of the terms justified — What these terms do not imply. § 376. Appellations for the
power of thinking — Terminology and influence of Locke's Essay. § 377. Two aspects of thought
—Often distinguished as two faculties. § 378. Forms and laws of thought ; Forms of being.
§ 379. Relation of thought to the lower powers — In what sense active from the first. § 380. Con-
crete and abstract thinking— By whom is concrete thinking performed ? — Difficulty of abstract
thinking — Errors of those who think only in the concrete — Of those who think in the abstract.
§ 381. Relation of knowledge by experience and by thought. § 382. Relation of thought to
language — A limited language indicates limited thought — The study of words a study of thought.
CHAPTER II. — Thought — the Formation of the Concept, or
Notion 388
§ 383. Material objects perceived before concepts are formed — Perceived objects are known to
be similar — This involves analysis of their relations— Beings distinguished from their attributes.
% 384. Abstraction ; to abstract and to prescind — Comparison — Generalization — The attribute
affirmable of many beings — These processes performed by all men. § 385. Presuppose the dis-
tinction of substance and attribute— This distinction not discerned by sense-perception— Nor
strictly speaking, by consciousness. § 3S6. The product, a concept, or notion ; Import of these
terms— The reality of the product questioned— Concept not a percept — Not a mental image— No
existing individual corresponds to the concept. § 387. Is a relative object of knowledge— In
what sense is the concept a symbol ?— The concept more than a name. § 388. The concept re-
spects attributes or relations— Can brutes form concepts?— The concept respects relations only.
§ 389. Concepts as concrete and abstract. § 390. Notions as simple and complex— No simple
ideas or beings in nature. § 391. Content and extent of notions— Content defined— Extent defined
—Extent usually measured by species— Definition and division — Content inversely as extent.
§ 392. Classification, how does it arise ?— Children classify rudely— How savages classify. § 393.
The classifications of science— Classification not peculiar to science— What the nomenclature of a
science represents. § 394. Classification and systemization— The relation of both to knowledge.
§395. How much do we gain by knowing by concepts ? §396. The significance of classifica-
tion—The significance of naming objects— The varying import of the concept salt. § 397. Rela«
lion of knowledge by concepts and by intuitions.
TABLE OF CONTENTS. XIX
CHAPTER III. — The Nature op the Concept. — Sketch of Theo-
ries. 403
§ 398. The doctrines of Socrates and Plato. § 399. Aristotle and the Aristotelians. § 400.
Porphyry ; 233-305 ; His questions ; Boetbius ; 470 ? 524— The Realists ; The Conceptualists ;
The Nominalists ; The motto of each. § 401. The Scholastics— Eric of Auxerre; 9th Century —
Roscellinus ; + 1106. '—William of Champeaux ; 1070-1121— Abelard, 1097-1143— Albertus Mag-
nus; 1193-1280— Thomas Aquinas ; 1226-1274— John Duns Scotus; t 1308— William of Occam;
1 1347. § 402. These discussions not deserving of neglect or contempt. § 403. Modern Philoso-
phers : Thomas Hobbes. § 404. John Locke. § 405. G. W. Leibnitz. § 406. Geo. Berkeley
and David Hume. § 407. Thomas Reid and Dugald Stewart. § 408. Dr. Thomas Brown. §409.
Sir William Hamilton. § 410. John Stuart Mill. § 411. Herbert Spencer. § 412. Immanuel
Kant. § 413. J. G. Fichte. § 414. G. W. F. Hegel. § 415. J. F. Herbart.
CHAPTER IV. — The Nature of the Concept. — Conclusions from the
History of Theories. 413
§ 416. The concept an object and not an act. § 417. Implies the distinction of beings and
attributes. § 418. It is a related object. § 419. Involves the recognition of similarity. § 420
Can be used for naming. § 421. It is a classifying agent. § 422. It is applied to an object on
the ground of its import. § 423. The import is exemplified by individuals. § 424. The concept
can be referred to individual objects — The process explained — The concept, in its very nature, is
relative to the individual — Different images illustrate the same concept — Very generalized concepts
most need to be imaged. § 425. The concept is aided by the name ; The necessity of language
— The name is sensuous and individual — It is a sign of a part of the relations of the individual —
Names prepare for new distinctions and discoveries — Names suggest only the relations which we
require — Experience demonstrates the value of language to thought — This explains the doctrine
of the nominalist— It proves also that the name requires a concept. § 426. The truth represented
by realism — Accidental properties and relations — Permanent classifications and concepts — The
classifications of botany — The name usually signifies a permanent and important thing — These
permanent concepts and things sought by the realist — The mistakes of the realists — Are there
permanent classes and species in nature ? § 427. The relation of symbolic to intuitive knowl-
edge— Its ground already explained — Words valuable for definition and impression — Advantage
of intuition above description — Words more inadequate in mere description — Language operates
largely by suggestion — Language often very inadequate — The symbolism of the invisible and the
spiritual world — Can the infinite be described by or to the finite ? — Man may be in the image of
God.
CHAPTER V. — Judgment and the Proposition. . . . 430
§ 428. The concept formed by an act of judgment — How represented in many logical treatises
— (1.) Proved by the analysis of the act — (2.) Implied in the nature of the concept as relative — (3.) In
the nature of names — (4.) In the nature of knowledge — Mutual relations of the concept and the
judgment. § 429. Judgments are psychological and logical — Judgments of mental entities — How
the subject of a judgment is expressed in language. § 430. How does the logical differ from the
psychological judgment ? — Any concept is capable of being subject or predicate. § 431. The
signification of the copula — The copula does not imply actual existence. § 432. Judgments of
content and extent — Natural and scientific judgments of content — Essence, real and nominal.
S 433. Real and logical truth the copula ambiguous — The import of the copula, how interpreted
—Real and logical truth sometimes confounded.
Propositions of extent follow those of content— Of especial importance in science — Logical
divisions of propositions of extent. § 434. Propositions of content and extent imply one another.
§ 435. Definition and division perfected in science — Relation of scientific to common knowledge
— Not easy to divide common and scientific knowledge — Science rightly conceived and defined.
CHAPTER VI. — Reasoning — Deduction or Mediate Judgment. 439
§ 436. Importance of reasoning — Reasoning is a mode of thinking. § 437. Reasoning involves
judgment — Is itself an act of judgment— Immediate or direct judgments— Mediate or indirect
XX TABLE OF CONTENTS.
judgments — Reasoning inductive and deductive — The two distinguished. § 438. The two process
as often conjoined — Often very intimately blended. § 439. Reasoning, an act of knowledge and
^f thought.
Deduction and the Syllogism. 443
§ 440. Agreement and differences of opinion— Our discussion psychological, not logical
or metaphysical. § 441. The process and the product — The Enthymeme and the Syllogism —
The middle term ; its significance. § 442. Is the Syllogism a or the form of deduction ? —
The Syllogism, a completed process and product of deduction — Possible changes in the form
of the Syllogism. § 443. Problem or question proposed — The middle term significant — The dictum
of Aristotle — The maxim of Hamilton — Dictum of agreement or non-agreement of the terms —
Dictum of substitution — Dictum of J. S. Mill — How related to the dictum of Hamilton. § 444.
None of these dicta satisfactory — The Syllogism not a petitio principii The Syllogism not
identical with induction — Class relations do not explain either process— Whately's doctrine of
the Syllogism. § 445. The relation of reason to consequent — Is a relation of concepts to con •
cepts. § 446. Depends on the relation of causes and laws — How does this relation become a rea
sou ? — View of Aristotle — The scholastic logicians — Leibnitz an exception. § 447. The reason or
ground wider than cause or law. § 448. Relation of causes to law. § 449. Geometrical reasons.
§ 450. Immediate Syllogisms.
CHAPTER VII. — Reasoning. — Varieties of Deduction. . . 454
§ 451. The varieties are three; these subdivided. § 452. Probable reasoning defined — The
epithet explained and qualified — Founded upon causes and laws — In the sphere of matter — In the
sphere of spirit — In history — In the legal argument — "Why more satisfactory in matter than in spirit.
§ 453. Mathematical reasoning — The entities or beings to which it relates — These entities are con-
cepts— Their properties not material nor spiritual. § 454. Can be expanded in propositions of
content — Definitions postulates. § 455. Mathematical propositions of extent. § 456. Axioms of
two kinds— How far applicable to Arithmetic and Geometry — Analytic and synthetic axioms —
Mathematical definitions self-explaining — Do axioms or definitions sustain deduction? § 457.
The construction of geometrical figures ; Auxiliary lines — Tentative processes often required-
New constructions furnish new material — Geometrical reasoning resolved into construction — Also
into induction — By others purely hypothetical. § 458. Geometrical quantities measurable — Mis-
application of this fact. § 459. Geometrical reasoning explained by an example — Generalization
in the process — Deduction in arithmetic and algebra. § 460. Immediate Syllogisms — Examples —
Opposition — Conversion. § 461. On what does the reasoning rest? — All deduction is logical ;
Logical laws — Technical logical deduction — Hypothetical reasoning. % 462. Two elements in
most acts of deduction — The invention and establishment of middle terms — Often the most impor-
tant part of the process. § 463. Does deduction add to our knowledge ? — What a man may need
to be taught— Deduction, in fact, enlarges our knowledge— Deduction may not teach new facts.
§ 464. The knowledge of relations more important.
CHAPTER VIII. — Inductive Reasoning or Induction. . 469
§ 465. Inadequate definition of induction — Inductions of this kind cannot be used in deduction
—Such inductions styled the purely or only logical. § 466. Examples of proper induction. § 467.
Such inductions are constantly made. § 468. In what respects inductions differ from simple
judgments. § 469. Relation of experience to induction — Caution to be used in these judgments.
§ 470. Importance of a correct theory of induction — Examples of inductions of common life.
§ 471. The inductions of science — Franklin's induction of electricity — Dr. Black's discovery of
carbonic acid gas — Lavoisier's discovery of oxygen — Dalton's induction of chemical equivalents
— Davy's discovery of potassium, etc. — Induction of the identity of the electric and chemical forces.
§ 472. The order of thought in these inductions— Discoveries in theoretical astronomy ; Coperni-
cus— Preparations for the discovery of Newton — Process by which Newton came to his induction.
§ 473. Why inductions in physics are the most striking — Do not differ from those of common life.
§ 474. Why are the inductions of science more difficult? § 475. The indications less obtrusiva
TABLE OF CONTENTS. XXI
§ 476. Kequire more discriminating observations. § 477. The inductions of science more com-
prehensive. § 478. Recognize mathematical relations. § 479. One induction prepares the way
for another. § 480. The problem of induction remains unsolved. § 481 . Certain relations a priori
must be assumed. §482. Neural to ask what truths are implied. § 4S3. Relation of substance
and attribute. § 484. Relations of causation. § 485. The reality of time and space, and their
•elations. § 486. That some properties indicate others — The uniformity of the powers and laws
of nature — The alleged ground of such uniformity. § 487. That adaptation rules in nature — Two
species of adaptation. § 488. Similarity of the human and divine intellect. § 489. The three
f ules of induction — These are rules for experiment — Relation of these rules to common sense —
They presuppose an hypothesis or suggestion. § 490. What suggests the hypothesis or prudens
qucestio — Some say no answer can be given. § 491. The attention must be familiar with the
objects. § 492. The relations of objects must be attended to. § 493. Both objects and relations
must be familiar to the mind. § 494. The constructive imagination must be employed — The
memory must be tenacious and ready — A mind quick and ready to recall and construct ; Accident
— A lively curiosity must be present. § 495. A wise judgment must decide between hypotheses
—By what standard. § 496. The intellect's appeals to itself. § 497. Kepler's saying — Who is the
most successful interpreter of nature ? § 498. The capacity of ready deduction. § 499. The
experiment, its place and importance— Relation of experiment to observation. § 500. Lord
Bacon's eminent services.
CHAPTER IX. — Scientific Arrangement. — The System. . 494
§ 501. The simplest example of a system. § 502. A notion applied in its content and extent.
§ 503. Notions which indicate permanent properties or laws. § 504. When established by induc-
tion and applied in deduction. § 505. Properties which explain and predict phenomena. § 506.
Scientific system more or less widely applicable. § 507. Systems of abstract concepts and rules.
PART FOURTH.
INTUITION AND INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE.
CHAPTER I. — The Intuitions Defined and Enumerated. . 497
§ 508. Certain assumptions implied in induction — Also in the other processes of knowledge —
Also in the definition of knowledge. § 509. We enter upon the critical stage of our studies — We
turn the power of thought back upon all the intellectual processes. § 510. Relation of these in-
quiries to metaphysical investigations. § 511. We do not learn the intuitions by the ordinary
powers and processes — They have been referred to a separate faculty. § 512. The appellations by
which they are known — Difference of opinion in respect to these intuitions — Described in vague
and figurative language — Relation of first principles to intuitions and categories. § 513. Not ac-
quired first in the order of time — Locke's discussion of innate propositions and ideas — It is im-
possible that the propositions or their elements should be apprehended so early — They are, in fact,
attained last in the order of time. § 514. They stand first in logical importance — Yarious signifi-
cations of the term principle — A constituent element called a principle — A causal agent — A premise
—especially the major premise— A truth or law generalized by induction— The ultimate truths of
any science or art. § 515. Preeminently concepts and relations that are ultimate in knowledge —
The infinite and the absolute are principles. § 516. The relation of intuition to experience — Tes-
timony of Leibnitz, Reid, Kant— Testimony of Cousin— Successive forms in which they are evolv-
ed— They are apprehended in the concrete, not in the abstract — They are best expressed in propo-
sitions:—These propositions are singular, not general — These propositions pass into concepts — The
condition of generalizing these propositions and concepts — Relation of these to other generaliza-
tions. § 517. Stages by which they are developed — First stage, the apprehension of the concrete
object— The second, of the objects as related — Third, the apprehension of the relation abstracted—
XX11 TABLE OP CONTENTS.
The fourth, apprehension of the relation as fundamental— The fifth, apprehension of correlates
§ 518. Explains why they are distinctly known by so few — Tested by the language of men.
§519. Recognized in the actions when denied in theory. §520. Criteria— They are universal— Firs*
truths are necessary— They are independent of other truths. § 521. They are not discovered by
induction. § 522. They are not major premises for syllogisms — In their nature cannot prove any
thing. § 523. They are independent of one another — Hegel's development of the categories-
Why they seem to be dependent on one another. § 524. Distinguished into three classes — Why
difficult to determine and classify them. § 525. The formal categories. § 526. The mathematical
or logical essence. § 527. The real categories.
CHAPTER II. — Theories op Intuitive Knowledge, . . 517
§ 528. The theory of a direct mental vision of first truths. § 529. The theory that they ara
discerned by the light of nature. § 530. That they are innate or connate. § 531. The views of
Locke and his school — Locke's views of innate ideas — His statements were unguarded — His two
sources of knowledge — Condillac and other disciples — Hume's relation to Locke — The Associational
School — Dr. Reid and the Scottish School— The French SchooL § 532 — Kant and his School.
§ 533. Criticism of Kant's sceptical conclusions — The conclusion is purely speculative — Unsup-
ported by analogy— It is self-destructive and suicidal. § 534. Hamilton's Positive and Negative
Necessity. § 535. The theory of Faith as contrasted with knowledge— Sanctioned by Descartes— By
Kant in his Practical Reason — By Jacobi under various titles — Schleiermacher's feeling of depen-
dence— Chalybaeus, Reiff, and Lotze — This theory sanctioned by Hamilton also — Reasons why it is
plausible. § 536. J. G-. Fichte. § 537. Schelling's view of the categories. § 538. Hegel's theory
of pure thought. § 539. Herbart's Theory. § 540. Trendelenburg's theory of motion.
CHAPTER HI— Formal Relations op Categories, . . 526
§ 541. The category of being — In what sense fundamental — Beings of different sorts — Being
apprehended in different ways. § 542. The most abstract of all the categories— Explained by
concrete being — Psychologically concrete being is first apprehended — Logically, it is fundamental.
§ 543. The apprehension of being expressed in propositions — Being not a relation or attribute.
§ 544. It cannot be defined — It is conceived and spoken of as an attribute. § 545. A wholly inde-
terminate concept — Hegel makes being equal to nothing — Not without signification. § 546. Rela.
tionship ; Diversity — Diversity the most extensive — Present in all forms of knowledge. § 547.
Expressed in a proposition— Relative notions ; Negative notions — At first individual, afterwards
generalized — The concept nothing — Hegel's view of nothing — The error of Hegel — Xenophanes
and Spinoza — Substance and attribute formally conceived. § 548. The relation of identity — Affirm-
ed of mental existence— Or of material — Of a purely mental product — The law of identity, etc., in
logic — Concern the relations of concepts to concepts — The law of identity guards against a twofold
danger — Uses and aims of the law of identity — Logical founded on real identity. § 549. The law
of contradiction— Excluded middle. § 550. Misapplication of the law of identity— Kant resolved
these la^ws into forms of thought — Schelling and Hegel's view of identity.
CHAPTER IV. — Mathematical Relations : Time and Space. . 537
I. Extension as given in Sense-Perception; or, the Relations of Matter which
introduce and, require the Knowledge of Space 537
§ 551. All matter is known as extended— The extension at first blended with matter. § 552. De-
velopment of the several relations of extension — Void or inclosing space — Matter incloses void
space ; is movable ; has place and direction. § 553. Analysis resolves these relations one by one —
Suggests many inquiries.
ii. Of Time as apprehended in Consciousness; or, the relations of Events which
introduce and involve the Knowledge of Time 539
§ 554. Duration, how related to the acts of the soul— The acts of the soul not distinguished at
TABLE OF CONTENTS. XX1D
first. § 555. The continuance of two classes of activities — The present, past, and future. § 556.
Duration void of events — Consciousness carefully defined.
in. Of Mutual Relations of Extended and Enduring Objects. . . 541
§ 557. The mind discerns extended and enduring objects together — But not with equal atten-
tion. § 558. Duration transferred to mathematical phenomena. § 559. The measures of duration
taken from extended being — The language of duration taken from the same.
iy. The Relations of Quantity as applicable to Space and Time Objects. 543
§ 560. Extended objects measure one another— Enduring psychical phenomena do the same.
§ 561. Measurement requires number— The relation of number, how developed— Relations of
number. § 562. The relation of number defined.
v. Of Extended and Enduring Objects as imaged or represented ; or, Space and
Time Objects as enlarged and measured by Imagination. . . 545
§ 563. Limitations of sense-perception — Within these limits we divide as we please. § 564.
Beyond these we use the imagination — How the child imagines distant objects — The uncul-
tivated man. § 565. Measures of time-objects imaginary — Different capacities in different men
—Differences in the estimates of time— Estimates of space and time in dreams. § 566. Measure-
ments which involve number and magnitude— "Whence standards for both are derived— How they
are pictured.
vi. Of Space and Time Objects as generalized ; or, the Concepts of the Relations
of Objects to Time and Space, , 550
§ 567. How the relations of space and time objects are generalized. § 563. These relations in-
dividual and general.
vii. Of Mathematical Quantity ; the Process by which its Concepts are Evolved,
and their Relations to Time and Space 551
§ 569. Two classes of mathematical concepts — How geometrical concepts are originated.
§ 570. Rest on what assumptions — Postulates of Geometrical quantity. § 571. Conditions of the
concepts of number— Relations of number can be symbolized by any objects. § 572. The prin-
cipal concepts of number. § 573. The application of number to magnitude.
viii. Of the Application of Mathematical Conceptions to Material Phe-
nomena. ........ 554
§ 574. Why and how far mathematical concepts are applicable to material objects — Ex-
ample in Mechanics— Newton's great laws of Mechanics. § 575. All material objects susceptible
of mathematical relations— Applications to chemistry — To light and optics— To sound and acous-
tics—To heat— The doctrine of the correlation of forces.
ix. Of the Application of Mathematical Relations to Psychical Phenomena. 557
§ 576. Application of mathematics to the science of the soul ; arguments for it — Arguments
against this view.
x. The Relation of Time and Space Concepts to Motion. . . . 558
§ 577. Can time and space relations, etc., be still further generalized ? — The universality of
motion suggests space-relations — Also the relations of position and of rest — Absolute relations of
time — Time-relations ; how suggested by motion — Also mathematical quantities — In what sense
is motion the condition of generalization ? — Two objections ; first, that motion supposes Space
and Time— Their relations to motion not necessarily adverted to— It is urged that the rates
XXIV TABLE OP CONTENTS.
of motion are estimated by time — Second objection, that direction is required as well as motion,
§ 578. Extended and enduring objects are limited— Mathematics recognizes measurable and
therefore definite quantity.
xi. Of Space and Time, as Infinite and Unconditioned. . . . 562
§ 579. Extension and duration distinguished from, but related to space and time — These rela-
tions not always distinctly adverted to — Discerned at the last of the stages of Intellectual develop-
ment. § 580. They limit objects and events. § 581. Extension and duration affirmed of things and
events only. § 582. In what sense Space and Time are unlimited — They are not simply negatively
related — Antinomies of Hamilton and Kant. § 583. Space and Time cannot be generalized under
higher concepts. § 584. They cannot properly be defined — Proved by language. § 585. They
are known as the conditions of their limited correlates — Are themselves the correlates of the ex-
tended and enduring — What are space and time? — They are not substances — Nor are they
material or spiritual properties; they are not relations — Nor are they subjective forms of the intel-
lect—Kant's doctrine open to two objections— How space and time are knowable.
CHAPTER V. — Causation and the Relation of Causation. . 569
§ 586. Causation as a principle and as a law — How the two are stated — Tautology to be avoid-
ed— Power and law, how distinguished. § 587. What is an event ? — Events in the material world
— In the vegetable and animal world — In the mental world— In the production of new beings.
§ 588. Many events are combined of several — Every cause is an acting being. § 589. Causes 'distin-
guished from conditions — When conditions are laws. § 590. The principle of causality intuitive-
ly evident — Ground of explaining events — Ground of seeking to account for an event unexplained
— Ground of prediction — Ground of curiosity — Relation to thought and scientific processes —
Confirmed by language — Meets all the criteria of a first principle. § 591. Resolved by many into
a time-relation — The Theory of Hume ; its importance — The Theory of Hume as briefly summed
up — Does not profess to be universal in its application — Why it fails to satisfy the mind — A special
application of his general theory — The Theory of Dr. Thomas Brown — The Theory of John Stuart
Mill — Summary of Mill's Theory ; its relations to the theories of Hume and Brown. § 592. Time-
relations attend, but do not constitute the causal — Time-relations cannot explain deduction — Seven
theories counter to our own. § 593. Causation inexplicable by Induction or association — The ad-
vocates overlook the real question — Experience cannot go beyond its own limits — Induction as-
sumes and requires the belief to be original — Much less explicable by association. § 594. Not
resolvable into outward or inner experience, or both ; Locke's view — The theory in all its forms
untenable— Relations of the doctrines of Locke to those of Hume and Mill — Inconsistent with
Locke's doctrine of knowledge — Hume's objection to the doctrine of Locke. § 595. Theories of
Royer-Collard and M. de Biran. § 596. Isthe theory correct? — 1. Do we gain the notion of pow-
er from consciousness? — 2. Do we make it universal by natural induction? — De Biran's view of
first principles. § 597. We image our concepts of causality by conscious experience — The infer-
ences of children and savages explained. § 598. Inferences from the theory that causation per-
tains only to spirit — Material causes called self-contradictory. § 599. Objections to this doctrine
— Would make the conception of body impossible. § 600. It has been inferred that there is but
one agent in the universe. § 601. The theory which resolves causality into a relation of concepts
— Resolved into the principle of contradiction — Its relation to the principle of the Sufficient Reason
— Influence of the Kantian doctrine — Carried to its extreme by Hegel— Objections to his reason-
ing. § 602. Hamilton's theory of causation — Mansel's version of the same — The relation of both
to Kant. § 603. Objections ; Elements of existence not indestructible — The impossibility to
think of change logical, not real — Does not explain psychical causality — Incompatible with
creation. § 604. Theory of expectation of constancy of nature — Conclusion : Our position
reaffirmed.
CHAPTER VI.— Design oe Final Cause 592
§ 605. Terms explained; Formal, material, efficient, and final causes. § 606. Design and
adaptation, how related— The relation assumed as necessary and a priori— The kind of knowl-
TABLE OF CONTENTS. XX?
;dge which rests upon efficient causation. § 607. Can final cause be similarly applied ?— Such
an application conceded to be desirable. § 608. Reasons; The mind impelled to connect objects
by this relation. § 609. The relation is higher than that of efficient causation. § 610. The prin-
ciple has been of service in scientific discovery— Harvey's discovery of the circulation of the
blood— Cuvier's application of it in comparative anatomy. § 611. The Foundation of the Induc-
tive Philosophy. § 612. Required to explain the phenomena of organic existences — Mechanical
forces and laws do not dispense with it — The vital force does not set it aside — Relations of adapta-
tion alone sufficient. § 613. Relation of final to efficient causes in the higher orders of being—
The one does not displace the other. § 614. Objections : (1.) Men mistake in their judgments
about final causes. § 615. (2.) Our interpretations can neither be tested nor confirmed— Not en-
tirely unlike iu their operation or phenomena. § 616. (3.) This relation derived from conscious
experience — The same is true of that of efficient causation — Not unphilosophical to transfer it
from consciousness — The relation unquestioned in some applications. § 617. (4.) Two principles
introduced into philosophy which may possibly conflict — Final causes claim the precedence.
§ 618. (5.) The search after final causes has hindered discovery— Real meaning of Bacon— It is
fruitful of scientific progress. § 619. (6.) The adaptations of nature are only the conditions of
existence. § 620. Reply; The truth is a priori, not derived from experience— Experience gives
us more than the conditions of mere existence. § 621. (7.) Adaptation is limited to organic exist-
ence. § 622. (8.) We are not warranted in affirming it of all kinds of existence. § 623. (9.)
Adaptation cannot be affirmed of an unlimited Being. § 624. The principle is illustrated and
confirmed by its applications. § 625. Is applied in metaphysical science itself— In the formation
of concepts. § 626. In the systemization of concepts. § 627. In the definition of an individual.
§ 628. As a criterion of truth and a rule of certitude. § 629. Applied in geometrical construc-
tion and deduction — In applied geometry — In applied numbers. § 630. Applied in geology, etc. —
Its importance in geology. % 631. Applied in philosophical geography. § 632. Adapted to com-
parative anatomy. § 633. Applied to physiology ; In the animal structure generally — In its
adaptation to the disposition and functions of the animal — In protection against injury and expo-
sure. § 634. Applied in anthropology — In the provisions for and the capacities of language — Re-
lations of language to society. § 635. Applied to psychology — Of special importance in this science.
— Explains the differing periods of development — Explains why the rational faculty is supreme.
§ 636. Applied and assumed in ethics — The adaptations chiefly psychical. § 637. Application to
theology — Argument for the Divine existence in its usual form. § 638. Two classes of opinions
in respect to the Divine existence; the first rejects personality. § 639. The second accepts a
personal God— Objections— Answers— Intermediate agencies do not disprove personality— Efficient
causation consistent with intermediate agencies. § 640. The relation of efficient to final cause.
CHAPTER VII. — Substance and Attribute : Mind and Matter . 619
§ 641. Substance distinguished from the logical and grammatical subject. % 642. The etymology of
the terms ; first of substance— Etymology of attribute, quality, etc. § 643. Obscurity and diversity
of opinion in regard to the relation— Locke's view of substance and attribute— Views of Hume—
Of Reid— Of Kant— Of Whewell.
i. Substance in the Abstract. .... . . 622
§ 644. Substance in the abstract ; how defined.
ii. Of Attribute in the Abstract. ..... 623
§ 645. Attribute in the abstract defined — Substance and attribute in the concrete.
in. Mental or Spiritual Substance. . .... 624
§ 646. Spiritual or mental substance, misconceived— To know, feel, and will, are causative
energies— These referred to the ego as cause. § 647. Unconscious psychical powers are causative.
§ 648. Attributes of design in the soul— Individual attributes of the soul— How far the ego the
type of all substance. § 649. Human spiritual substance defined— Certain causative attributeo
are its faculties— Mr. Mill's conception of the soul.
XXVI TABLE OF CONTENTS.
iv. Material Substance, . .... 627
§ 650. Material substance defined— Its trinal extension— Impenetrability — Its several sensible
qualities — Can matter cause perceptions as distinguished from sensations ? § 651. Matter is
known to be or to exist. § 652. The so-called properties of matter — These attributes distinguish
and define, but do not constitute matter. § 653. Space occupation by matter — Permanence of
space occupation. § 654. Identity of material substance — An individual material substance ; how
defined? § 655. The production of new substances— Ultimate particles or elements— The real
essence of Philosophy, or the Thing in itself. § 656. A material substance not necessarily inde-
pendent— Not indestructible. §657. Our belief in its permanence grounded in design — Dogmas
that seem to deny permanence.
v. The Mutual Relations of Material and Spiritual Substance next claim our
attention. ...... . 634
§ 658. The reciprocal relations of material and spiritual substance— Mind and matter directly
known — Reflex knowledge of both; necessary but difficult. § 659. Matter known as being in
order to be known as cause — Being, spiritual or material, cannot be defined. § 660. Dualism of
matter and mind overcome by unity of thought.
vi. The Primary and Secondary Qualities of Matter. .... 637
§ 661. Twofold and threefold classification — Aristotle's classification — That of Descartes.
§662. Classification of Locke. § 668. Of Reid. § 664. Of Dugald Stewart. § 665. Of Sir William
Hamilton— The primary and Secundo-Primary — The Secondary Qualities— The relation of the
three to the notion of matter. § 666. The Primary and Secondary qualities distinguishable— The
Secundo-Primary not satisfactorily established — Hamilton's locomotive energy. § 667. Matter as
being, how related to the Primary qualities. § 668. Two questions still remain — Are the primary
qualities essential to the notion of matter ? § 669. Do they give a real knowledge ?
vn. Of the Real as Opposed to the Phenomenal. . . . . . 640
§ 670. Phenomenal distinguished from the real in the first sense — In the second sense — In the
last sense nothing directly perceived is real. § 671. Not even what we know by the mind — Kant's
doctrine of the real and phenomenal— Hamilton's doctrine. § 672. The assumptions of Kant and
Hamilton criticised. § 673. The same questions arise in common life. § 674. How best resolved.
§ 675. "We distinguish objects as perceived and as explained. § 676. The relations of the intellect
cannot be distrusted.
CHAPTER VIII. — The Finite and Conditioned. — The Infinite and
Absolute 645
i. The Finite and Conditioned 645
§ 677. To know a limiting process— Illustrated by sense-perception— By acts of imagination
and memory— By the processes of thought. § 678. The finite universe ; how conceived— What it
is to know the universe. § 679. The finite universe is limited — It is also conditioned.
n. The Infinite and the Absolute, — their Relations to the Finite and Dependent. 647
§ 680. The import of the terms must be considered. § 681. The signification of the infinite — Trans-
ferred from quantity to power— As many senses of the infinite as of the finite. § 682. The uncon-
ditioned is the non-conditioned. §683. Primary meaning of the conditioned— Applied to quantity
— The unconditioned means not dependent— Special sense with Hamilton. § 684. The absolute,
several senses of— The Hegelian sense. § 685. The three used in the concrete and in the ab-
stract—The sense in question should be exactly known. § 686. The absolute, etc., not negative
conceptions—Arguments of Hamilton and others— The arguments not valid. § 6S7. Not the
objects or products of negative thinking— Arguments of Hamilton and Mansel— Their conclusions
TABLE OF CONTENTS. XXY11
untenable. § 688. The absolute, etc., not unrelated— Argument of Spinoza, etc.— Keply. § 689.
The absolute, etc., not the total of being— This view not required — The total of finite being not
infinite — The absolute not a matter of quantity; the proper absolute. §690. The absolute, etc.,
not devoid of interior relations. § 691. The absolute, etc., are knowable— Views of Kant, Hamil-
ton, and Mansel — Herbert Spencer dissents from these— Hobbes on the infinite. § 692. The
absolute cannot be known by the imagination — The proposition qualified— Why of no use to
image the absolute— The antinomies of Kant and Hamilton. § 693. The absolute, etc., cannot
be deduced or logically defined. § 694. The absolute the correlate of the finite — Of course, related
to the universe— Eelations do not involve limitation. § 695. The absolute apprehended by the
intellect. §696. Not known exhaustively or adequately — The finite universe infinite to our
knowledge. § 697. Self-existence common to the finite and the infinite. § 698. The absolute a
thinking agent. § 699. Must be assumed to explain thought and science.
,^%^r^^
IETEODUOTIOK
PSYCHOLOGY AND THE SOUL
PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND VINDICATED.
§ 1. Psychology is the science of the human soul. The
kmS^ennsf d appellation is of comparatively recent use by English writers,
but has been familiar in its Latin and German equivalents —
Psychologia and Psychologie — to writers on the Continent, for more than
two centuries. It is now generally accepted and approved among us as
the most appropriate term to denote the scientific knowledge of the whole
soul, as distinguished from a single class of its endowments or functions.
The terms in frequent use — mental philosophy, the philosophy of the
mind, intellectual philosophy, etc. — can be properly applied only to the
power of the soul to know, and should never be used for its capacity to
feel and to will, or for all its endowments collectively. The terms meta-
physics and philosophy, when used without an adjunct, cannot designate
any special science, and therefore are not properly used of the science
which is concerned with the nature and functions of the human soul.
The term Psychologia was used by Otto Cassman, in bis Psychologia Anthropologica, etc., 1594; also
by Budolph Goclenius, in \pvxo\oyla h. e., de Hominis perfectione, anima et imprimis ortu, etc., 1597 ; vide
Hamilton, Met. Led. VIII. ', Grasse, Biblioth. Psychol. ; Gumposch, Phil. Lit. d. JDeutsch., pp. 56, 57. Other
reasons are given by Hamilton in the Lecture referred to, for preferring psychology, particularly that it
admits the adjective psychological.
The words mind and menial have been used by English writers to denote the soul's capacities to know,
feel, and will, but with a more or less distinct apprehension of the impropriety, it being generally conceded
that these terms signify the cognitive or intellectual function. Intellectual philosophy is a term too
precise to admit any mistake in regard to its import or application. Moral science, moral philosophy, and
still more frequently the moral sciences, have been used most improperly as including the philosophy oi
the intellect. In this improper application, the word moral is interchanged with spiritual or psychical.
§ 2. Psychology is a science. It professes to exhibit
ence!lologyasci" what is actually known or may be learned concerning the
soul, in the forms of science — i. e., in the forms of exact
observation, precise definition, fixed terminology, classified arrangement,
and rational explanation. This it aims to accomplish. Whether the
6 INTRODUCTION. § 3.
materials are sufficiently abundant for this use, or whether they can all be
successfully reduced to these forms, are inquiries which may be considered
more properly hereafter. Perhaps they can be still more satisfactorily
answered by successful achievement.
It is the science of the soul ; i. e., the science which has the soul for
its subject-matter. The word soul differs from spirit as the species from
the genus : soul being limited to a spirit that either is or has been con-
nected with a body or material organization; while spirit may also be
applied to a being that has not at present, or is believed never to have
had such connection.
Psychology is usually limited to the science of the human soul, in its con-
Limited to the nection with the human body, i. e., as it manifests powers and is the subject
human soul. 0f phenomena in its present conditions of existence. It does not concern
itself, except incidentally, with inquiries such as these : How or when does
the soul come into being ? Can or will it exist under other conditions, separate from a body,
or connected with another body ? What powers may it develop, or what phenomena may it
exhibit in another state or condition of being ? It simply asks, What does the soul achieve,
and what does it thereby show itself to be, while connected with a human body ? or, in the
language of science, What are its phenomena, and what is its essential nature, as manifested
under the conditions of corporeal and earthly existence ? It does not even occupy itself with
all these phenomena, but it limits its attention almost exclusively to those higher functions
which are commonly recognized as distinctively and preeminently human, to the neglect of
those inferior endowments which man shares with the lower animals.
The term soul originally signified the principle of life or motion in a material organism. It was pre-
eminently appropriated to the vital principle or force which animates the animal body, whether in man
or the lower animals. Traces of this signification may be distinctly discovered in the threefold division of
man into body, soul, and spirit, in which the soul occupies the place between the corporeal or material
part, and the spiritual or noetic. This intermediate part was sometimes called the animal soul, and was
believed to perish with the body. Hence, the term spirit was applied to a nature that had never been fixed
in a body, or soiled and degraded by connection with it. In the New Testament, i^uxiko?— psychical— is often
applied to the body in the sense of animal, and opposed to the spiritual or higher body. As applied to the
affections and character, it signifies those which are lower or fleshly, as distinguished from those which are
nobler in their nature or origin. Inasmuch as in man the attention would naturally be directed to that
which gives him dignity, it is not surprising that when the soul was limited to man, and signified Vie human
soul, it came to designate by eminence those endowments by which man is distinguished from the animals,
instead of denoting, as previously, those which he has in common with them. We recognize somewhat of
the earlier and lower meaning in the phrases, " The soul of the universe," " The soul of a plant," " The
soul of an enterprise or interest ; " i. e., the animating principle of the universe, etc., etc.
8 3. Psychology is distinguished from physiolosry and an-
imations to phy- ?. / g f ., - a. . - r^, *J. ,.
sioiogy and an- thropology. Both these sciences take man for their subject.
Physiology studies man as a material organism ; distinguish-
ing the several organs of which it is composed, the special functions of
each, and the combined activity of all in a living being. It is true the
structure and arrangement of some of these organs cannot be explained
except by a distinct recognition of the necessities of the spiritual agent.
But although physiology must recognize the higher functions and phenom-
ena of the soul, it need only consider those which are familiarly known.
For its purposes, the knowledge, the classifications, and the terminology
8 4. PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND VINDICATED. 7
of common life are quite sufficient ; as when it explains the structure of
the eye, the ear, and the hand, by their relation to human vision and hear
ing, to tactual or mechanical skill. The principal and almost exclusive
sphere of physiology is the bodily structure and functions, as phenomena
that can be observed and explained with reference to the animal economy,
or the laws and conditions of bodily development and life.
Anthropology, as the term imports, treats of the whole man, as body
and soul. It differs from psychology in that it treats of these factors when
combined so as to form one product in many varieties. Of this product it
gives the natural history. It investigates man as this complex whole, as
he is varied in temperament, race, sex, and age ; and as he is affected
by climate, employment, or a more or less perfect civilization. It inquires
how he is formed and changed in body and in soul by inherited pecu-
liarities and accidental circumstances. It discusses the influence of the
soul upon the body and the influence of the body on the soul in the
normal and abnormal states and functions of each. But it notices and
records the obvious phenomena of each, only so far as they are open to
general observation and require no scientific analysis or explanation. To
psychology it leaves the special and profound study of the one ; to physi-
ology, the more thorough examination of the functions of the other.
A more exact division of anthropology separates it into somatology and psychology.
Somatology signifies the science of the body only, and is subdivided into anatomy and physi-
ology ; anatomy being the science of its structure, and physiology the science of the functions
of its organs. Psychology might also be divided into the lower and higher psychology. It
has been distinguished by earlier and later writers as empirical and rational, the first giving
the facts, the second the rationale, or the philosophical interpretation of the facts.
§ 4. Psychology is distinguished still further from physi-
lmown by con- ology in that the phenomena with which it has to do are
apprehended by consciousness ; while the phenomena of
physiology are discerned by the senses. Psychology proceeds on the
assumption that certain facts or phenomena may be known by the soul
concerning itself. The power of the soul to know itself and its own
states is termed consciousness. How the soul gains this knowledge, and
what are the nature, the varieties, and the aids of consciousness, will be
considered in the proper place. At present we simply observe, that
psychology is strikingly distinguished from physiology, in that it derives
the materials or objects of its knowledge and inquiries from a source
peculiar to itself.
That the soul does know itself, and confides in the knowledge thus attained, will be ac-
knowledged by every one. The facts are peculiar, differing greatly from, or, as we say, being
totally unlike -those which we gain by hearing, seeing, and touching. They are very numer-
ous, coming and going faster than we can recall or describe them. They are various in their
quality, differing from each other in important features, as states of perception from states of
8 INTRODUCTION. § 5.
emotion, and yet having this feature in common, that they are known by the soul to which
they pertain, and known to belong to itself. Seeing differs from hearing. Both are unlike
remembering and imagining. All these together are unlike hoping, fearing, rejoicing and
sorrowing. Hoping differs from fearing, and rejoicing is unlike sorrowing. And yet seeing,
hearing, remembering, imagining, hoping, fearing, rejoicing, and sorrowing are observed by
the soul that experiences these several states, and are known to be its own.
8 5. These phenomena, so numerous and peculiar, excite
Its phenomena ,-,.,,*. ^ , .
impel to scien- the desire and effort to reduce them to the exactness and
tific study. _ . . _,
symmetry of scientific knowledge. That they actually occur,
cannot be questioned. No one doubts, or cares to deny, that he thinks
and remembers, that he hopes and fears. They are the most interesting
of all events to the individual who experiences them. The knowledge and
the imaginings, the hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows of each person,
make up the most important part of his being. Even if we lay out of
view their relation to us as sources of enjoyment and suffering, our internal
states go very far to decide our success or failure in the business of life.
What we accomplish in our acts and achievements, depends most of all
on what we are in our thoughts and aspirations, in our plans and energy.
The mind, which we know so well, is ever at our hand as the instrument
with which we execute our purposes and direct our acts. The soul within
us is the well-spring ever open at our door and springing up at our feet,
from which we draw our most satisfying joys and our bitterest sorrows.
Surely phenomena like these are the legitimate object of those scientific
Are legitimate inquiries to which we are so powerfully impelled. The phenomena which are
objects of sci- * „ . ■,.!•-,,,
ence. so near us at all times — which intrude themselves upon our attention even
when we desire to exclude them, which constitute the world within, to which
the man himself alone has access, but which is yet, to him, more important than all the world
without — deserve to be studied, and, if possible, to be scientifically classified and accounted for.
We naturally ask, How do they occur ? By what powers are they produced, and under what
conditions ? What laws do they obey ? What is the soul ; is it matter, only of finer texture
and more delicate organization than in the plant or animal ? If it is not matter, what is the
mysterious substance or agent which works out these phenomena ? If spirit, it obviously holds
certain relations to matter ; what are they : what are the material conditions under which it
perceives, remembers, thinks, and believes?
Whatever may be the answers which we receive to these inquiries, we are impelled to
make the inquiries. Should the issue disappoint us, we must still investigate. Should we return
from our search with the conviction that nothing can be found, though disappointed of the
object which we sought, we should feel a kind of satisfaction in knowing that nothing can cer-
tainly be known, if that indeed is true. Should we conclude that the soul is material, and that
thought and feeling are secreted from the brain, we should still be impelled to seek for and
find the truth which degrades and disappoints us.
If, on the other hand, these scientific inquiries lead to the conclusion — as we believe they
will when rightly conducted — that the soul is not material, but spiritual, and that for its use
and ends the material universe exists and is arranged ; if the powers of the soul are seen
by science to have been constructed for its moral perfection, and to point to this as their
thief and ultimate end ; if the conditions of its existence in a material body conduce to ita
PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND VINDICATED. 9
discipline to a perfect character, and promote its preparation for a more exalted and noble
state, these conclusions will be satisfying not merely from the intrinsic value of the results
themselves, but because they are confirmed by the most searching investigation. Our views
of these truths are more enlightened when they are illumined by satisfying reasons for holding
them. They are more comprehensive, because they are gained by a wider view of the fact1'
and relations which pertain to them. They are therefore held more firmly, more serenely,
and, if need be, more heroically.
It is sometimes said, that we ought to acquiesce in the commonly received opinions
Prejudices —the so-called " teachings of nature "—in respect to these phenomena, and not attempt
oe^and ^meta- to ^■e^ne them in precise or accurate language, to account for them by discovered laws,
physics. or to arrange them in a scientific system. It is pertinent to suggest, in reply, that
" nature" seems to impel us to be dissatisfied with her teachings, and to force us to
seek more exact and scientific knowledge than these " natural teachings " furnish. The " commonly re-
ceived opinions " come no more truly by " nature " than do " reading and writing." They are the prod-
ucts of certain philosophical inquiries in respect to the soul — the bequest perhaps of some forgotten philo-
sophical school— which have slowly wrought their way into the minds of the community through books
teachers, and preachers, and have become so generally accepted that they seem to be truisms.
Depreciating views of psychological and metaphysical studies are frequently urged and more fre
quently cherished in silence by the devotees of the physical and applied sciences. Such persons have
been known to carry the practical joke which exposes their own ignorance so far as to limit the terms
science and the sciences to the study of those objects which we can see and handle; as if the word science.
might be applied to the knowledge of every other object and activity in the universe, and denied to the
knowledge of the one agent and the one process by which these sciences are achieved. They will not con-
descend to apply it to inquiries concerning the instrument of all scientific knowledge, or to those concep-
tions and relations which underlie all science, without which geometry, mechanics, chemistry, geology,
syntax and philology, law and government, have no meaning, are capable of no method, and can pro-
duce no conviction.
It might easily be shown to the satisfaction of all such decriers of metaphysics, that every one of
the physical sciences begins with metaphysical conceptions and propositions. "With these, both teachers
and learners may indeed rarely concern themselves, for fear, perhaps, of being puzzled beyoad the possi-
bility of self-extrication, and so they either quietly ignore them, or confidingly accept as a teaching ol
nature, or an axiom of common sense, the caput mortuum of a defunct school of metaphysics. Such persons
might profitably exercise themselves with a few questions touching their own sciences, before they attach
the psychologist as a dealer in unprofitable speculations, whose subject-matter is intangible, and the results
profitless. They might consider questions like these: What is a point? What a line, square, and cube?
"What is matter? "What is the difference between a material substance and its properties? What is ai
material cause, power, and law ? What is the nature, foundation, and authority of the inductive process ?
The jurist might properly be sometimes summoned to his own bar, and required to define more
exactly — i. e., more metaphysically— the elementary notions, and to justify more carefully the fundamental
principles of his own science. Or he might with reason be reproved from the bench for the inaccurate and
slovenly positions which, through defect of metaphysics, he lays down as undisputed maxims of natural
justice, the deep foundations on which are reared the elaborate and imposing structures of artificial juris*
prudence and positive law.
Value of Psy- § 6. It may seem needless to dwell upon the value of psy-
quires and pro- choloejical studies. They are peculiar in this, that, to what-
motesself-knowl- & ' 1*/1 -.. -,,-,,
edge. ever power of the soul they are directed, they both require
and strengthen the habit of self-knowledge. ~No real knowledge of the
soul can be gained except by turning the gaze inward. Each student
must do this himself, for no one can do it for another. Books and instruc-
tors, essays, poetry, and the drama, cannot describe or teach that which is
not confirmed by the researches of the learner within his own spirit. For
the man who is disposed to reflect, they can do much, by instructing him
where and how to look ; but to him who will not converse with himself,
they can impart no instruction. To such a man they must speak in an
unknown tongue. They cannot create conceptions in the mind that has
10 INTRODUCTION. § 8.
not verified or will not verify them in its own experience. They speak
only words to him who does not bring the answering thoughts from his
own reflective self-acquaintance.
This discipline to reflection, with the habits which it forms, is valuable.
Trains to self- because it teaches self-control. He that studies his own powers, may learr
control. jj0W t0 direct and use them. He may learn how to fix his attention, how
to invigorate and refresh his memory, how to order and arrange his thoughts.
He may discover what are his intellectual defects, and the reasons why he can perform some
processes with ease, while others cost pains-taking and effort. He may acquire the skill to
correct his deficiencies and to overcome his bad habits ; to make easy that which was difficult,
and pleasant that which was disagreeable.
It also lays the foundation for moral self-improvement. He that would improve his charac-
ter, must first know what his character is. He must discover what are his better and what his
worse impulses ; what are the points at which he is most easily assailed, and by what sensibili-
ties or emotions he can most readily rally his forces and overcome their assailants. With self-
improvement, self-government is intimately associated. Indeed, the one cannot exist without
the other. He that would make himself better, must learn to set himself over against himself
as his own master, repressing the evil, and educing and encouraging the good. But he that
would rule himself, must first know himself. He must thoroughly understand the subject
whom he would regulate and control. " Know thyself," was written over the portal at Delphi.
It was inculcated by Socrates, that preeminent teacher of practical ethics, who, measuring
every species of knowledge by its tendency to make man better, regarded this maxim as the
summary of wisdom. A Christian poet has said, in the same spirit,
" Unless above "himself he can
Erect himself, how mean a thing is man ! "
8 7. The self-knowledge which psychology fosters, and to
Trains to the e . . . „ . . , r . &J ,. ' , . ,
Knowledge of which it insensibly trains, is the one instrumentality by which
we learn to understand our fellow-men. The sharp and search-
bg look by which one man sees through another, and reads the secret
which he is unwilling to confess, is attained only by the fine and subtle
analysis of one's self. What is perceived, are only external signs; as a
word, a look, a gesture. To the thought, the wish, the purpose which
they suggest, there is no direct access. The only thoughts and wishes
which the interpreter can know directly, are his own ; and it is by a close
and habitual study of these that he is able to connect them with the signs
through which those of other men are revealed.
§ 8. If, also, we would know our fellow-men to do them
to iducatorsSable g°°d> we must ^rst know ourselves. This suggests the im-
portant service which psychology may render to teachers of
every class ; from her who communicates to the infant the first elements
of its "mother-tongue," to him who toils with his fit though scanty
audience along the loftiest heights of philosophical thinking. It is the
office of the teacher to communicate knowledge. But to communicate,
is more than to acquire, or to possess, or to express in the language that
satisfies one's self. The teacher should impart — i. e., awaken in the mind
of another — the thoughts which exist in his own. He must cause his own
§9. PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND VINDICATED. 11
thoughts to be received by bis pupil. He must make sure that they are
easily followed and reproduced ; that the order in which they are
arranged is adapted to the condition and wants of the recipient, and
that the full force of the reasons by which he argues is responded to
and felt.
Hence, skill in the method or art of teaching, as distinguished from the possession of
knowledge, depends almost entirely upon the power of a man to measure and judge of
the effect of his instructions. The clear, methodical, and satisfactory communication of knowl
edge follows from often asking, What truths are most easily and naturally received at first, or
as the foundation for others ? What illustrations and examples are most pertinent and satis-
factory ? What degree of repetition and inculcation is required in order to cause the impres-
sion to remain ? How can individual peculiarities of intellect be successfully addressed, and,
if need be, corrected ? Such questions can only find answers through the habits and knowl-
edge which come from intelligent self-study.
The so-called teacher is not the only person who educates his fellow-men. The
Variety of edu- editor, the preacher, the public lecturer, the political speaker, the man who gains an-
cators. other over to his views by conversation, the parent who imparts the knowledge and
principles, the truth or error which strike the deepest and live the longest, these all
are in the truest sense teachers. The art or skill which they possess and use, depends to a certain extent
on qualities of manner, style, or address, but most of all on the knowledge, who the men are with whom
they have to do, what are the facts or truths which they are prepared to receive, and in what method anct
order they should be presented so as to be received most advantageously. To this skill no study or training
so directly contributes as those derived from psychology. Hence, the science of Pedagogic, or instruction
in the science and art of teaching, has been usually entrusted to the students and devotees of psychology
and philosophy. Locke's treatise on the Conduct of the Understanding was a natural and almost a neces-
sary result of his well-known Essay.
§,9. Education is something more than the communication of
cuituS."1 mDml knowledge. It includes the training of the sensibilities,
which are the springs of action, and the forming and fixing
of the character. To this the knowledge of the feelings is as requisite as
the knowledge of the intellect, and it is attained by a similar method.
Those who influence the character and conduct of their fellow-men by
public discourse or private conversation, by the persuasion of words or
the magic power of look or gesture, those who seduce to evil or win
to good, are, in the appropriate sense of the word, educators, as truly
and often with greater potency than the teacher in the school or the
professor from his chair.
The knowledge of the ways by which men are to be moved and won,
whether it is transfigured and exalted to the divinest uses, or debased to
the lowest arts of the demagogue and the seducer, is dependent on the
single condition of self-observation, and is promoted, stimulated and
perfected most of all by the habits and training which come from psycho-
logical investigations. The sharp pettifogger, the mischief-making gossip,
the artful intriguer, the venal politician, as well as the wise counsellor, the
inspiring teacher, the divine philosopher, and the eloquent preacher, open
the fountains of their inspiration to evil or good, first in the study of their
own souls.
12 INTRODUCTION. §11.
. § 10. We name another advantage from psychological study
the study of lit- — the training which it ensures for the appreciation and
enjoyment of literature, and the increased facility it imparts
in writing that which may be worthy to be read. The great masters in
literature, especially in poetry, fiction, and the drama, have sounded the
depths of the human soul. They have studied man most attentively in
the several phases which his being assumes, and as moved by the many
varieties of human feeling and passion. They may not have learned all
the technical names which are given to his capacities, or been taught in
the schools all the theories which have been formed of the essence and
powers of the soul ; but they have studied its thoughts and feelings to
the most effectual purpose, and have exhibited the results of -their studies
in characters of surpassing interest, and by words of wondrous power.
From their works the student of psychology may find most valuable aid,
and, to enjoy and appreciate them, there is no study which is so accessory
as the systematic study of the human soul, with the habits and tastes which
this study engenders. !No fact is better attested by the history of liter-
ature, than that those trained by such studies enjoy with especial zest the
best literary productions, and appreciate them more keenly than any other
class of men. Other things being equal, they are better qualified than any
others to criticise them fairly and intelligently.
It has been questioned whether the reflective and critical tendency thus
Is not unfavor- fostered is favorable to the power of originating productions of the highest
able to creative
power. order. Eminent examples may be cited from the history of letters, of those
who have been distinguished for these habits, as Milton, Gray, Bacon, Hume,
Gibbon, Grote, Goethe, Schiller, who have also been distinguished for the power of original
creation. In many departments of literature, there can be no doubt that the attentive and
critical study of the soul gives power to originate successfully as well as to judge acutely.
The arm that measures its strength and steadies its aim by the judging eye, will reach the
mark with greater precision, and its energy need be none the less.
§ 11. We ought not to omit the peculiar grace and charm
morafrefllctiou! which is lent to the character through the influence of that
moral reflection which is the natural result of self-acquaint-
ance. To learn to put ourselves in the condition of others, by imagining
what would be our expectations and what our feelings were we in their
place, not only disciplines and guides to that common justice which
the laws enjoin, and to that unselfish morality which the Golden Rule
prescribes, but it is the secret of that considerate sympathy and refined
courtesy which invest with a peculiar attractiveness a few superior natures.
It is by this process that we learn to clothe the severe form of heroic alle-
giance to duty with the graceful robe of unselfish, sympathetic, and divine
charity.
Dr. Thomas Arnold was accustomed to make much of what he called " moral thoughtful-
Bess," as the trait of character which he desired most of all to perfect in his pupils, and whict
§12. PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND VINDICATED. 13
ho defined as " the inquiring love of truth going along with the divine love of goodness."
This " moral thoughtfulness " is fostered by self-acquaintance, when prosecuted with the honest
purpose of self-improvement. This self-knowledge makes a man to be just to others, because
he is severe to himself ; to be modest, because he compares himself with others ; to be candid,
because he views their merits and defects as if they were his own ; to be sympathizing, because
he feels their joys and sorrows as experienced by himself; to be courteous, because he would
express by word and act, by look and tone, his acknowledgment of their rights and his sympa-
thy with their feelings ; to be indignant at wrong, because, in the evil intended for another, he
feels a blow aimed at himself.
It leads to a wider sympathy with man than is bounded by the circle of acquaintances, of
country, or even of those now living. It conducts the thoughts backward along the history of
the past, and forward among the problems of the future. It makes one sad at the stories of
human suffering, and buoyant in the contemplation of human excellence in characters conspicu-
ous for faithfulness and heroism. From this enlarged sympathy arise more hopeful and toler-
ant views of present evils, a firmer faith in the promises of Providence and the prospects and
progress of man, a more cautious and candid estimate of the excitements and prejudices which
attend the partisan conflicts of the passing hour. Superior natures, in all situations in life,
have ever been reflective natures. When the opportunity has been furnished, they have been
attracted by psychological studies and fascinated by the mysteries which they attempt to unveil
and resolve.
Psychology the § 12« Psychology either furnishes or reveals the first prin-
' °whMi ciples for all those sciences which either directly or remotely
relate to man. relate to man — which concern his being, his aspirations and
wants, the products of his genius, his institutions, his studies, or his des-
tiny. It is from psychology that all these sciences derive their definitions,
and it is in psychology that they find the evidence for their truth. They
all begin with certain propositions, which they assume to be true. If
their truth is questioned, the final appeal is made to the science of the
human soul, as the highest court, beyond which there can be no resort.
Thus ethics, or the science of human duty, sets off with certain positions
Its relation • to *n respect to the nature of man, which assert that he is fitted for moral action,
ethics. an(j that to right or virtuous activity he is impelled by the most sacred obliga-
tions. It defines conscience and duty, and the several relations of man, and
from its definitions derives, by logical inference and analysis, the rules and maxims of prac-
tical ethics. But is man a moral being ? What is it to be capable of moral activity and obli-
gation? Is he endowed with conscience? What is conscience? These questions are all
questions of fact, and can be answered only by the psychological study of man.
Political and social science also assumes that man is a social being, and
To political and tnafc ne *3 formed for and must exist in organized society. It defines the
social science. rights and obligations which grow out of this constitution. But is man
thus endowed ? and what is he as a social and political being ? Psychology
alone can answer.
Law, or the science of justice, lays down as its axioms certain assumptions
in respect to the authority and limits of government, for the truth of which
it must appeal to the consciousness of every one who consults his own inner
life. This science is therefore carried back step by step, till its last footstep
is firmly fixed in psychology.
14 INTRODUCTION. §13.
^Esthetics, or the science of criticism, assumes that man is pleased with
the beautiful and elevated by the sublime ; and that he can form distinct
conceptions of what is fitted to attract him in both. From these concep-
tions he can derive rules by which to try and measure whatever interests
aim in literature, nature, or art. The canons of taste are in the last analysis resolved by
facts of psychology.
Theology is the science of God, of man's relations to God, and of the
„ U , will of God as made known to man. But this science must assume that man
To theology.
is, in his nature, capable of religious emotion ; as also that he believes in
God, and can in some way understand His character and His will. What man
believes, and how he comes to believe it, are in great part to be explained by psychology.
Theology must go to psychology to vindicate its primary conceptions and justify its elementary
principles. The science of religious faith and feeling must, so far as it is a science, rest on
psychology.
From these considerations, psychology is shown to be the common parent of many of the
sciences. To every one of these sciences the study of psychology furnishes the necessary
groundwork, and is itself the necessary and appropriate introduction for the thorough under-
standing and orderly development of their teachings.
„ . , . 8 13. To logic and metaphysics, psychology stands in a
Special relation P ,. ° . . r J '. r J &_7 , , . ,
to logic and me- peculiar and most intimate relation, to understand which
special consideration is required. Psychology, in one aspect,
is, like all the sciences of nature, a science of observation ; and it is sub-
ject to those rules of investigation and of evidence which are common to
them all. We study the soul aright when we collect and resolve its
phenomena according to the inductive method; when we reason from
premises to conclusion ; when we infer, by analogy with similar phenom-
ena ; and when we arrange our products in the order and beauty of a
complete and consistent system. Hence it follows that psychology,
though necessarily, as we have seen, the parent and director of many
sciences, is itself in a most important sense subjected to logic as its guide
and lawgiver.
But logic is itself subject to another science, viz., meta-
Semetaph°ysics.ic physics, or speculative philosophy, inasmuch as this is the
science of those necessary conceptions and fundamental re-
lations on which the rules and the processes of logic are founded. Such
are the conceptions of substance and attribute, of cause and effect, of means
and ends, and the relations of inherence, causation, and design. Unless
these are assumed, the concept, the judgment, the syllogism, the inductive
process, the system, can have no meaning and no application. Pyschology
is therefore subject to logic as its lawgiver, and logic to metaphysics as its
voucher.
Psychology sub- But though, in the order of thought and methodical con-
fere Vogfc4 abnd struction, psychology is subject to these sciences, yet, in the
metaphysics. order of time and of acquisition, psychology is before these
sciences, which are fundamental to itself and to all the other sciences.
§ 14. PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND VINDICATED. 15
We must, in a certain sense, go through psychology in order to reach the
logic by which we study psychology. Logic teaches the laws of right
thinking. But what is it to think? what are the processes which it
involves ? We must ask these questions, in order to discover and pre-
scribe the rules of thinking. We answer them by resorting to the facts
which consciousness discloses. Metaphysics evolves the original concep-
tions which appear in all science, and the ultimate relations which are
assumed in the language and inquiries of all the special philosophies.
But what are these original conceptions, these prime relations, these
categories, of which every particular assertion and every actual belief is
only a special exemplification ? Psychology only can answer, as, by her
analysis, she shows that man performs processes and achieves results in
which he necessarily originates and applies these conceptions and rela-
tions. By studying the mind, we discover the laws by which both mind
and matter can be studied aright. By studying the mind, we unveil and
evolve the necessary conceptions and primary beliefs by which the mind
itself interprets or under which it views the universe of matter and spirit.
It is, then, through psychology that we reach the very sciences to which
psychology itself is subject and amenable. Psychology is the starting-
point from which we proceed. Psychology is also the goal to which we
must return, if we retrace the path along which science has led us. In syn-
thesis we begin, in analysis we end, with this mother of all the sciences.
This special relation of psychology to these fundamental sciences explains
Why psychology why psychology is itself so often called philosophy and metaphysics, while it
philosophy. is neither, but simply a science of observation and of fact. It does, however,
lead to philosophy and to metaphysics, as we have seen by the discoveries
which it evolves and the habits to which it trains. It is the natural introduction to meta-
physical or philosophical studies, for its own investigations will conduct the mind step by
<5tep to those inquiries which will bring into view those conceptions and relations, concern
ing the authority of which speculative intellects have disputed in all the schools. These con
ceptions and relations are employed in all the special sciences of nature, or, in the language
of the ancients, in all physics, whether the rh. <pv<rin<L are material or spiritual. Hence it may
be that all inquiries concerning them were called metaphysical, as beyond, or preliminary to,
the physical, and the science was called metaphysics. Hence psychology itself was called
philosophy, as it conducted to philosophy par eminence, the prima philosophia, which is funda
mental to all the special and applied sciences.
§ 14. It is obvious that, if psychology holds these relations to
method?11116 to so m^a7 special sciences, the study of it must of itself be a
most efficient discipline to method and logical power.
" What is that," says Coleridge, The Friend, Sec. II., Ess. 4, " which first strikes us, and
strikes us at once in a man of education ? and which, among educated men, so instantly dis-
tinguishes the man of superior mind, that (as was observed with eminent propriety of the late
Edmund Burke) we cannot stand under the same archway during a shower of rain, without
finding him out ? Not the weight or novelty of his remarks ; not any unusual interest of facts
communicated by him," etc., etc. * * * " It is the unpremeditated and evidently habitual
16 INTRODUCTION. §16,
arrangement of his words, grounded on the habit of foreseeing, in each integral part, or (mora
plainly) in every sentence, the whole that he intends to communicate. However irregular and
desultory his talk, there is method in the fragments."
It is impossible for a person to be accustomed to reflect upon his own psychical states, to
analyze them into their elements ; to trace his practical maxims and his scientific axioms to their
fundamental principles, or to evolve them from their psychological processes ; it is impossible
that a man should be thus disciplined without acquiring the power of thinking clearly,
rationally, and by orderly processes, and without also gaining the power to express his thoughts
in a lucid and convincing manner. To whatever subject of investigation or business in life
such a student may apply the discipline thus acquired, he will bring to it a mind capable of
mastering the subject with satisfaction to himself and to others, and of gaining that supremacy
which the man who thinks with order will always secure over those who think superficially, or
who think with lack of method.
Even if one's profession or pursuit in life does not require him to be familiar with the facts
of psychology or the principles of philosophy, he will retain the results of his studies in the
habits of methodical and analytic thinking to which he will have been trained. But no man
can wholly divest himself of the truths which he must of necessity have gained by such a train-
ing. The sources from which they have been derived, and from which they must be freshly
confirmed, are open ever before him. The mine in which he has wrought so long is still open
for his working, at his feet and by his door. If the habit has been once acquired of looking
attentively at his inner self, and of there disclosing truths and finding reasons, it will not b>i
abandoned. The same mine will continue to be wrought, because its products, freshly produced,
will be constantly required on every occasion when common sense, the knowledge of men,
practical wisdom or moral convictions, are demanded. The possession of these habits and th«»
power of evolving such truths command the respect of all men, and invest their possessor witli
an influence and dignity, to which all men concede the rightful supremacy.
IL
THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER.
Psychology a § 15- Psychology is properly a branch of physics, in the en-
ksa?chii?f PwS larged signification of the term ; or, the science of the soul
seIIse- is one of the many sciences of nature. Whatever may be
thought of the substance of the soul, its phenomena are unquestioned facts.
They are facts which are as real and as potent as the phenomeua of gravi-
tation or electricity. As such, they assert their place in that vast system of
beings which we call Nature, or the Universe, and claim to be considered
by the methods of inquiry which are appropriate to scientific investi-
gation.
wh then arc § 16, ^e true philosopher will admit the justice of this
its facts at* first claim, and will proceed to consider these phenomena in the
distrusted by the ' x ; . _
philosopher? light of scientific methods. But when he begins seriously
to study them, he finds, perhaps to his surprise, that they are very unlike
the phenomena to which he has been accustomed. He discovers that the
subject-matter of investigation, the phenomena, the agents, and the laws,
are all strikingly and strangely peculiar. The inquirer is surprised, dLs-
§17. THE EELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER.
turbed, and perhaps offended. He is surrounded by unfamiliar objects.
He is summoned to consider processes to which he is unaccustomed. He
is required to reflect upon phenomena that are out of his usual range, and
to assent to principles which he has never before recognized nor applied.
The first impulse is, to question the reality and trustworthiness of the facts themselves ;
the next, to doubt whether they can be distinctly conceived and accurately defined. If it be
conceded that they are actual, and worthy to be investigated, it is at once presumed that they
may be attributed to some material substance or agent, or explained by material laws, or at
least illustrated by material analogies. This tendency to resolve the soul into matter, or to
judge the soul by matter, is very strong ; at times it is almost irresistible, and it has in all
ages exerted over the most candid and truth-loving minds a powerful and unconscious influ-
ence. The influence of these prepossessions may be traced in the works of almost every
writer on psychology ; if not in the conclusions which he reaches, at least in his modes of rea-
soning, his illustrations, and even in the very language which he necessarily employs, and
by which he is unconsciously influenced. It has become, therefore, almost a necessity, in an
Introduction to the study of this science, to consider this influence distinctly, so as to account
for its existence and to guard against its effects. For the same reason, it is desirable, also, so
far as we can do this by a preliminary view, to determine distinctly what are the relations of
the soul and its phenomena to the essence, powers, and laws of matter.
8 17. We would first account for the existence of this ten-
Material phe- t-,1 i n t i i • •
nomcna are the dency. r>y the natural course oi development and training,
earliest known. _ , . , . . , . n . _■ .
we are lor a long period exclusively occupied with material
phenomena and material laws. In one sense it is true that nothing is so
near to any person as his own inner self, and no events or phenomena are
so interesting as the experiences of his own soul. Even the material world
interests us only as through the sensibility of the soul we are alive to joy
or sorrow, to comfort or deprivation. If there is ' no music in the soul '
of the listener, the sweetest notes and the most elaborate harmonies are
sounded in vain. If the sight awakens no pleasure, and the food provokes
no taste, they are nothing to us.
ISTotwith standing this, that to which the mind attends, and with which
as an object of thought it is most earnestly occupied even in joy or sor-
row, is the outward and material. What the man sees and hears and
smells and tastes, attracts and absorbs the attention. Even when he
begins to reflect, the objects which he compares and distinguishes, which
he classifies and arranges, are almost exclusively sensible objects. When
he rises to scientific knowledge, it is to the science of material things.
The properties and powers with which he first becomes familiar in the
way of science, are the properties and powers of matter. The laws of
mechanics, of fluids, of light, of chemical union, of vegetable and ani-
mal life, are the laws which he first studies, masters, and learns to apply
and to trust. The objects to which they pertain address the senses. They
are permanent before the mind. Experiments can be instituted by which
theories can be tested and hypotheses can be proved. These phenomena
engage the attention of all mankind, and to discern, describe, and under-
2
INTRODUCTION. § 18.
stand them requires no special reflection and no unusual or abstract lan-
guage. It is in the order of nature, therefore, that the sciences of matter
should precede the sciences of the soul. It follows, by a natural and
almost a necessary consequence, that the conceptions and methods of
investigation, the facts and laws which are appropriate to material objects,
should so control the mind's habits and associations, should be so in-
wrought into its very structure, as to take almost exclusive possession of
its active energies.
;'-••.■■'. § 18. When we pass over from the study of matter to the
Materialistic ° . . x . J
misgivings and studv of spirit, the prepossessions which we have considered
Impressions. \ . _; x . . ^
remam with us. We are at once confronted with new and
strange objects. Though the states of the soul have been the nearest to
our experience and the most familiar to our enjoyment, they have been
removed the farthest from our observation and study. We ask, Are they
real ? Are they actual and substantial ? Surely they are not like those
phenomena which we see and hear, which we handle and taste. But
allowing that they are actual phenomena, are they distinct and definite ?
Can we compare and class them ? To w^hat substance do they pertain ?
The readiest answer is, To some material substance. Hence the soul is
readily resolved into some form of attenuated matter. Its functions are
explained by the action of the animal spirits, or by chemical or electrical
changes in the nervous substance. Perception is explained by impressions
on the eye and the ear, which impressions are referred to motions in a
vibrating fluid without, which in turn are responded to by motions aroused
in a vibrating agent within. Memory and association are explained by the
mutual attractions or repulsions of ideas similar to those to which the parti-
cles of matter are subjected by cohesion or electricity. Generalization and
judgment, induction and reasoning, are resolved by the frequent and often-
repeated deposits of impressions that have aflinity for one another, and are
thus transformed into general conceptions and relations.
From these tendencies and prepossessions have resulted the various schemes of material-
ism, the grosser and the more refined. By these influences we can account for'the ready
acceptance of phrenology, with its more or less decided material affinities. To the same wc
refer the occasional semi-materialistic solutions of psychical phenomena, which occur in many
treatises and systems which are far from being avowedly materialistic. By them we can easily
explain those modes of thinking and speaking in respect to the soul in which resort is had to
some law or principlo of matter to explain a phenomenon which is simply and purely spiritual.
Even those who on moral or religious grounds believe most firmly in the spiritual and immor-
tal existence of the soul, often fall, in the scientific conceptions which they form of its essence
and its actings, into modes of thinking and reasoning which are more or less plainly material.
Especially arc they easily puzzled by objections which derive their sole plausibility from
material analogies. These phenomena arc not at all surprising. The mind that is trained by
the most liberal culture, or that is schooled to the most complete self-control, cannot easily
divest itself of the prejudices and prepossessions which have been contracted by previous
studies. Indeed, there is reason for the observation, that the man devoted to a single class of
L
§ 20. THE RELATIONS OP THE SOUL TO MATTEK. 19
6tudies or department of science is liable to stronger and more inveterate prejudices than he
whose one-sided views have not been strengthened by reflection, tested by experiment, and
enforced by authority. The man confirmed in his associations by means of a familiar mastery
over some physical science, is the man of all others to whom, when he considers the phenom
ena of the soul, the facts seem most novel and the conceptions most unfamiliar.
§ 19. But it is not enough to be forewarned of these influ
disproved!1 Sn ences, in order to be forearmed against them. We need to
way* be convinced that they are founded in error and misconcep-
tion ; we should be satisfied that the science of the soul can vindicate its
peculiar conceptions and laws. In order to this, we need to take a general
and preliminary view of the relations of the soul to matter. A complete
and final theory of these relations can only be gained at the termination
and as the result of our investigations. In order fully and satisfactorily to
answer the questions, ' Is the soul material ? ' 6 Wherein is spirit with its
phenomena like, and wherein is it unlike matter ? ' we must first have
studied each, and the means of knowing each ; i. e., we must have prose-
cuted a thorough study of philosophy and psychology. There are, how-
ever, certain considerations which are appropriate to a preliminary ^view.
These we propose to present — first, those which may fairly be urged by
and conceded to the materialist, or the materialistic psychologist ; and
second, the considerations which indicate and prove that the soul has an
activity that is uncontrolled by material agents, and follows laws that are
peculiar to itself. We shall give the argument of the materialist in its
most forcible form, omitting no source of evidence which modern science
has furnished for his use. To all these facts and proofs he has a just and
lawful claim, and the presentation of them is required by fidelity to sci-
ence and to the truth.
The arguments 8 20. The materialist urges, 1. That we know the soul only
of the material- ° ° . . ^ .
ist. The seal is as connected with a material organization. That which is
connected with a - , . ... n . n ,, .
body. called the soul, exerts all its activities and manifests all its
phenomena by means of the human body. Of a soul which acts or mani-
fests its acts apart from the body, we have no experience, either by per-
sonal observation or through credible testimony. It must certainly be
conceded that the only souls to which science can have access for the pur-
pose of observing their functions or explaining their laws, are those which
exist and act through a material structure.
The soul is de- 2* ^e Powers °f the soul are developed along with the
yeioped with the powers and capacities of this organized structure. As these
powers and capacities are severally called into action and
reach their full perfection, so do the powers of the soul appear one after
another, and attain the full measure of the energy which nature has
assigned them. The lower organs of the body act first in order, and these
are developed and matured at the earliest period. Afterward the higher
organs are gradually matured and brought into action. After the body is
20 IXTKODUCTION. § 2$
completely developed for all its functions, it passes through certain stages
of growth, increasing in size and strength. During these periods of de-
velopment and growth the soul is also unfolded and matured. One power
after another is made ready to act, and the capacity for the action of each is
enlarged and strengthened. If, now, the soul is unfolded as the body is
developed, and if the soul grows with the growth of the body, then it
would seem as though what we call the soul is but a name for the capacity
to perform certain higher functions which belongs to a finely organized
and fully developed material organism.
is dependent on 3. The soul is dependent on the body for much of its knowl-
£owi0e%eforand edge and for many of its enjoyments. It is through the eye
enjoyment. onjy ^at it perceives and enjoys color, and through the ear
only that it apprehends and is delighted with sound. All the knowledge
which it gains of the material universe, whether near or remote, whether
minute or extended, is acquired through the senses alone. It is only1 as a
material organ is affected by a material object, that the mind makes a sin-
gle new acquisition. Should these organs cease to exist, or cease to be
acted on, all new acquisitions and new enjoyments would cease to be pos-
sible. Even the so-called higher kinds of knowledge and feeling have a
nearer or remoter reference to the objects of sense with which we are
brought in contact through the organs of sense.
Moreover, so far as we know, the soul begins to act and to enjoy only
when these organs are aroused by their appropriate material excitants or
stimuli ; and it would never act or enjoy at all, either in its higher or
lower forms, if these organs were not first called into action.
Also for its en- 4* ^e sou^ *s dependent on tne body, and on matter, for its
orgy and activ- energy and activity. It sympathizes most intimately with
every change in the body. The capacity to fix the attention
so as to perceive clearly, to remember accurately, and to comprehend fully,
varies with the condition of the stomach and the action of the heart. A
slight indisposition is incompatible with the performance of the simplest
functions of the intellect, and with the exercise of those emotions to which
the heart is most wonted. An active disease disorders the imagination, fill-
ing it with offensive and incongruous phantasies, which the soul can neither
exclude nor regulate. The suffusion of the brain with blood or water, dis-
qualifies the soul for action of any kind, or stupefies it into entire uncon-
sciousness. A change in the structure or in the functions of the brain, or
some lesion of the nervous system, induces that suspension of the higher
and regulating functions which we call insanity. This state is permanent
when its cause is permanent ; and the soul may even relapse into a con-
dition more helpless and pitiable, the condition of idiocy, from which it is
never known to emerge. That state of the body which we call faintness
takes away all conscious perception and enjoyment, and causes the soul to
sink into blank inaction. Another state of the body in sleep induces
§ 20. THE EELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTEE. 21
another kind of activity, in which the usual laws of perception, judg-
ment, and memory, as well as the usual conditions of hope and fear, seem
to be deranged or reversed. When the organization of the body is de-
stroyed, the soul ceases to act, and, for aught we can observe, it ceases
lo exist.
5. The soul is the termination of a series of material exist*
series of material ences, which rise above each other in orderly gradation, each
preparing the way for the other ; and all are represented in
that form of organized matter which manifests and sustains the highest of
all, i. e., the phenomena of the soul itself. The lowest form of mattei
obeys mechanical laws. In this, the particles are held together by cohe-
sive attraction, and the masses are bound by that force which causes the
stone to fall, and the planets to move in their rounds, in obedience to a
mathematical law. The form next higher is seen in bodies endowed with
chemical properties and capable of chemical combinations. Here masses
and molecules unlike each other unite in such a way as to form a third
unlike either — a neutral result, in which the constituting elements do not
appear. In the form next higher, matter disposes its particles in crystal-
line arrangement, according to the law of which the elements are not con-
tent with simple mechanical aggregation, nor with the more mysterious
affinities of chemical combination, but arrange themselves in constant and
definite external forms, more or less symmetrical, after the laws of a natu-
ral geometry. Next we find the lowest types of organized existence, of
which the crystal is the mute prophecy. In these, from the highest to the
lowest, there are separate organs, each of which performs a separate and
special function, necessary to the existence and functional activity of every
other (ri'gaii and to the whole structure, which is made up of all the organs
together. The plant, when the requisite conditions are present of noinish-
ment, moisture, and light, expands into a developed organism, thrusts out
the bud and leaf, opens the flower by which its beauty is perfected, and
seed and fruit are formed and matured. The animal requires material con-
ditions of food and air and light. It comes into being by peculiar pro-
cesses, it grows into a complicated structure of bone, muscle, viscera,
nerves, and brain, each separate organ fulfilling its special duty, and all
acting together so as to form a completed whole. In connection with the
more perfectly and delicately organized animal structures, the phenomena
of the soul begin to appear, requiring as their condition all the lower forms
of nature, the presence and the action of the mechanical, chemical, and
organic powers and laws. Nay, more. So far as we observe the various
grades of animal life, just in proportion to the perfection of the material
structure is the perfection of the soul. The more simple the organization,
the fewer are the instincts and the more limited is the intelligence. The
more complex and delicate the structure, the wider is the range and the
richer the capacities for knowledge, enjoyment, and skill. Again, the
22 INTRODUCTION. § 21.
human being, so far as the progress of its own development can be traced,
seems to pass in succession through the lower up to the higher grades of
organic life. It seems to take up into itself and represent all the inferior
types of living beings. It is first, as it were, a plant, having only vegeta-
tive existence, in the capacity for nourishment and growth ; then it be-
comes an animal, passing through the lowest to the highest forms of animal
existence ; last of all, it emerges into that which is still higher, the form
of activity, which is intelligent, sensitive, self-conscious, and rational. It
would seem, it is argued, that the soul and the body are one organic
growth. The one is perfected with the other, the one depends on the
other, the one results from the other. To this is added the consideration
already noticed, that organic or nervous force, and psychical or mental
force, go hand in hand in energy. As is the tension of the one, so are the
activity and achievements of the other. The one also grows and is devel-
oped with the other, and with it wastes in decay, rests in sleep, is bewil-
dered in dreams, rages in insanity, drivels in idiocy, is extinguished in
death.
From all this it is concluded that the soul is nothing without
Sfmltlriaiist^ tne body, the two being different names for different func-
tions of a common substance, and the soul a convenient term
for the higher forms of activity which matter exerts in its finer and more
ideal forms. Or, in other words, the soul, in its essence and its acts, is
dependent on organization ; and when the organism is disintegrated, the
activity of the soul must terminate. Its existence separately from organ-
ized matter, or transferred to another and a new organism, involves an
absurd and impossible conception.
Such is a brief sketch of the argument for the material structure of
the human soul, as it might be urged at the present day by one familiar
with modern science. The considerations are very general, but they
embrace the most important parts or points of proof which it is suitable
to consider at the introduction of our studies in psychology.
Counter argu- 8 21. The considerations which may be urged in proof that
ments. Itsphe- ° . .' , -i 7» ti •
nomena unlike the substance of the soul is not material, are the following :
material phe- ■ , , . ._ ■-._• ' .
nomena. 1. The phenomena of the soul are m Kind unlike the phe-
nomena which pertain to matter. All material phenomena have one com-
mon characteristic — that they are discerned by the senses. They can be
seen, felt, touched, tasted, and can also be weighed and measured. Cer-
tain phenomena of the soul, at least, are known by consciousness, and, as
thus known, are directly discerned to be totally unlike all those events and
occurrences which the senses apprehend. The phenomena discerned by
the senses are known to have some relation to space that can be more or
less clearly defined. Motion, color, taste, sound, combustion, breathing,
circulation, secretion, galvanic agency, chemical combination, growth, de-
composition— every kind aud form of material activity — require extension
§21. THE RELATIONS OP THE SOUL TO MATTER. 23
in the substance on which they operate, or in the effect or activity itseli
But feeling, will, thought, memory, joy, sorrow, purpose, resolve, admit
of no such relation to space. They are known *to exclude such relation.
Besides, each and all these material phenomena or properties are referred
to some agent or substance which is also apprehended by the senses to be
extended and endowed with other material qualities. Even those agents
in nature which are most imponderable and impalpable, as the electric
force or fluid and the vital or organine force in the animal or plant, both
require a certain portion of matter as the active or potent substance, which
must be electrified or made living in order to exhibit electrical or vita]
activity. This single characteristic of material agents is positively known
and universally assented to. On the other hand, the phenomena of the
soul are by consciousness not only not necessarily referred to any such
portion of matter, but they are referred to another agent, the acting or
suffering ego, which is not known by consciousness to have any sensible or
material attributes, or rather, which is known to have no such properties.
All these peculiarities clearly and sharply distinguish the two classes or
species of phenomena. We positively know that all other phenomena
have a definite relation to matter. Psychical phenomena have a definite
relation to an agent which is not known to have a single material attri-
bute ; which, even when it controls matter, is known by consciousness to
be totally unlike any known material agent.
2. The acting eqo is not only not known to be in any way
The soul dis- .,,.,.. . , . . J
tinguishes itself material, but it distinguishes its own actings, states, and
from matter. _ _ . ° „ . . • , , • ,
products, and even itself, from the material substance with
which it is most intimately connected, from the very organized body on
whose organization all its functions, and the very function of knowing or
distinguishing, are said to depend. First, it distinguishes from this body
all other material things and objects, asserting that the one are not the
other. Second, it just as clearly, though not in the same way or on the
same grounds, distinguishes itself and its states from the material objects
which it discerns. It knows that the agent which sees and hears is not
the matter which is seen and heard. Third, the soul also distinguishes
itself and its inner states from the organized matter — i. e., its own bodily
organs — by means of which it perceives and is affected by other matter.
Fourth, it resists the force and actings of its own body, and, in so doing,
distinguishes itself as the agent most emphatically from that which it
resists. By its own activity it struggles against and opposes the coming
on of sleep, of faintness, and of death. Even in those conscious acts in
which it feels itself most at the disposal and control of the body, it recog-
nizes its separate existence and independent energy.
3. The soul is self-active. Matter of itself is inert. The
SLe0Ul M self soul *s impelled to action from within by its own energy.
Matter only takes a new position, or passes into a new state,
24 INTRODUCTION. §21,
as it is acted upon by a force from without. We grant that the soul must
begin its activities at the awakening of the senses ; but when it is once
awakened, it never sleeps, so far as we can observe or infer. If the senses
should furnish it no new objects, it would go on without intermitting its
action, busying itself with the materials already furnished under laws of
its own. We grant also that to what it perceives and desires and does, it
is determined, to a very great extent, by the objects which present them-
selves from without ; but these direct the course of its action as they fur-
nish objects ; they do not cause it to act. We concede even that its energy
in action is dependent on material conditions. The tension and healthful
harmony of the nervous system enables the soul to act with augmented
force. When the nerves are relaxed or disturbed, as in faintness or dis-
ease, the force of the soul is greatly weakened or frightfully disordered ;
but there is no proof that any bodily conditions can arrest the activity
that is impelled from within, or that it is originated by any such condi-
tions. In this respect the contrast is striking between matter and spirit,
is not de end- ^' ^° veiT many of the states of the soul no changes or
ent on matter m affections of the organism can be observed or traced, as their
its highest activ- # to m '
ities- condition or prerequisite. It is argued that the soul and
body are one material organism, because we know that in many instances
some affection of the one is necessary as the condition of a correspondent
affection of the other. The soul cannot see unless the retina is painted by
the light, nor can it hear unless the ear vibrates through sound. Hence it
is inferred that the one is the effect of the other ; and if the soul is acted
on by material or organic causes, it must be material in its substance or
structure. It ought greatly to weaken the force of this argument, to
observe that the change in the soul is in its nature wholly unlike the con-
ditions which go before it. The impression on the eye or the ear has no
affinity with or likeness to the perception which follows. Moreover, the
condition in the organism often is a condition simply and solely as it fur-
nishes an object which the soul apprehends, and determines nothing in the
result, except so far as it gives the soul an occasion to know one thing or
object rather than another ; i, e., the eye sees rather than hears, and sees
this object rather than another, because the excited organism furnishes the
occasion. But the conclusiveness of the argument is entirely broken, when
we reflect that no changes in the organism whatever are known to precede
or to condition the most numerous and the most important psychical states
and affections. We grant that the landscape which we see must first be
pictured on the retina. But what change or affection of the material
organism occurs, when the soul, at the sight of this landscape, images
another like it, calls up by memory a similar scene, which was seen years
before a thousand miles distant, or, by creative acts of its own, constructs
picture after picture that are more beautiful and varied than the one it is
beholding? Or what bodily changes precede desire and disgust, hopo
§ 21. THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 25
and fear, at these memories and creations ? No such changes have evei
been discerned. No ground is furnished for surmising that tbey ever
occur. They must occur in every instance, to justify the theory of the
materialist. That they do occur, is simply assumed. They have never
been observed.
The argument of the materialist stands thus : Certain psychical states or processes re
quire as their condition certain organic bodily affections. These bodily affections, however,
are totally unlike the mental states which they conditionate. In every case in which they do
occur, they present new objects of apprehension and feeling. By these, and by these only,
the soul receives its knowledge of the material world. Certain other mental states, far more
numerous and far more important, are attended by no affections of the body whatever.
Which, then, is more philosophical, to assume that such organic changes do occur when we
cannot trace their presence, nor any appearance of an organ in which they might be traced,
or to which they might be referred, because, forsooth, they do occur when we can trace
them, and can give the reason for their occurrence ; and then, with the aid of this unauthor-
ized assumption, to infer that the soul and body are one organism ; — or to disbelieve that such
bodily changes do occur as the conditions of mental activity, when. we have no evidence from
observation and no presumption from analogy ?
Gradations of 5. The regular gradation in the arrangement of the several
prove11 It dto nbe kinds of material existences, and the progressive develop-
matenai. ment from the lower to the higher forms of organized mat-
ter, do not of themselves prove that the soul is matter in a more highly
organized form. Nor does the fact that the transition from the highest
forms of organized matter to the lowest types Of psychical activity can-
not be readily discriminated ; nor that the body, which is organized for
the uses of the soul, seems in its development to assume in successive
order all the lower types of organization, force us to believe that a com-
mon substance, obeying material laws, is capable of rising into that refine-
ment of organization which can perform the functions of knowledge and
affection.
These facts can only be regarded as proof by the man who assumes
that the existence of immaterial or spiritual being is impossible, and the
belief of it is unphilosophical. This assumption involves the inference
that there is no spiritual Creator, on whom matter depends for its exist-
ence, properties, and laws. If there be a creating Spirit, who originated
and controls matter, then it is not unphilosophical to believe that there
may be a created spirit, which is intimately connected with and affected
by a material organism, or which, perhaps, is itself the organizing agent.
To those who assume that there can be no extra-mundane or creating
Spirit, it is useless to attempt to prove that there may be an incorporeal,
created spirit.
To those who admit that there is or may be a creating Spirit, or even
to those who believe that design has a place in the universe, the regu-
larity of development and progressive transition from one being to
another will indicate a. unity of plan in the creation more clearly and
26 INTRODUCTION. § 23.
more satisfactorily than they will prove a unity of material substance in
the agent — a unity of purpose and intention in the order and beauty of
these arrangements, rather than a unity of nature and destiny in the lowef
and higher kinds of beings.
It may be impossible for us to draw the line where material organization ends and spiritual
agency begins, where unconscious reaction ceases and conscious activity emerges. It may bo
impossible for us to discover the properties and relations of organized matter which fit it to
be the instrument or the medium of the soul, or what there is in the soul that fits it to be
developed with and to employ this organized substance. But we do know enough about
spirit and matter to affirm that if spiritual existence is possible, and if it be necessary from
its constitution or important to its destiny that it be developed with or organize matter, then
all those phenomena by which it seems to rise by a natural evolution from the higher forms
of matter, and to crown the series which it terminates, as " the bright consummate flower,"
are fully explained by the unity, the beauty, and the harmony of the Creator's plan, and do
not require to be resolved by a unity in the substance which they manifest.
This is all that we need determine at the present stage of our
inquiries. "What is the substance and what the destiny of the soul, can
be fully defined and vindicated by the philosophy and theology to which
psychology is the appropriate introduction.
§ 22. It is important to remember, however, whatever views
o?tixe?soS)SaLa we accept of the nature of the soul, that its phenomena are
as real as any other, and that their peculiarities are entitled
to a distinct recognition by the true philosopher. Whatever psychical
properties or laws can be established on appropriate evidence, they all
deserve to be accepted as among the real agencies and laws of the
actual universe. Perception, memory, and reasoning are processes that
are as real as are gravitation and electrical action. In one aspect their
reality is more worthy of confidence and respect, as it is by means of per-
ception and reasoning that we know gravitation and electricity. Their
peculiar conditions, elements, and laws, so far as they can be ascertained
and resolved, are to be judged by their appropriate evidence, and to be
accepted on proper testimony. The evidence and testimony which is
pertinent to them, may be as pertinent and convincing, though different
in its kind, as that which can be furnished for the facts of sense or the
laws of matter. If the soul knows itself, its acts, and products, by a
special activity, then what it knows ought to be confided in, as truly as
what it knows of matter by a different process.
phenomena of § 2^. ^ne anal°gy °f tne physical sciences establishes this
beC ^m cT"^ principle, an(l enforces it as a universal rule. Facts of one
those of another. sor£ are not to be distrusted because they differ in kind or
quality from those of another class. Truths of one kind are not to be
measured by truths of another. Phenomena of one description are not
to be solved by laws that hold good of other phenomena. Chemical facts
and laws are not disputed because they cannot be explained by mechanical
§ 24. THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 27
properties and powers. The functions by which the plant is nourished
and grows are not to be doubted because they cannot be explained hy
the laws which regulate the rise of water in a pump, or those which unite
an acid or an oil with an alkali, into a salt or a soap. Nor are the circu-
lation of the blood, or the digestion of the food, to be questioned, or
violently explained by laws which do not solve thern, because they ex-
hibit special and novel agencies, and must be interpreted by peculiar
methods. We are indeed prompted — we are even compelled — to reduce all
our knowledge to unity, and we therefore seek to explain two events and
two classes of phenomena, if it is possible, by a single agency and after
a single law. We must prefer the well-known and the familiar to the
unknown and the untried ; but if we do not succeed, we may not for this
reason doubt the facts or pervert and misconstrue the laws. If, now, there
are phenomena concerning man which are discerned by consciousness alone
— if also their truth can be established only through consciousness — then
they are to be received as real, whether they are or are not like the phe-
nomena of matter, or whether they can or cannot be explained by the laws
or analogies which material phenomena illustrate and exemplify. To deny
them, is unphilosophical. To attempt to explain them by any resort to
physical analogies which fail to solve them, and which destroy their
integrity or essentially alter their character, is to be more unphilosophical
.still. If either class of phenomena should take precedence of and give
law to the other, the spiritual are before the material, for the reasons
which have been already given.
The phenom- § 24. We ought also to distinguish between the powers and
ena, and Ian- ° . « . .
guage in which laws which consciousness discovers, and the medium by
they are de- ... .
scribed. which these discoveries are recorded and made known. This
medium is language, in the large acceptation of the term — the language
of signs, of looks, and of words. The most superficial inspection of the
words which describe the thoughts and feelings, reveals the fact conclu-
sively that they "were all originally appropriated to material objects and to
physical phenomena. The words perceive, understand, imagine, disgust,
disturb, adhere, and a multitude besides, were all originally applied to
some material act or event. It is only by a secondary or transferred sig-
nification that they stand for the states or acts of the soul.
" It may lead us a little toward the original of all our notions and knowledge, if we remark how great
a dependence our words have on common, sensible ideas ; and how those which are made use of to stand
for actions and notions quite removed from sense, have their rise from thence, and from obvious sensible
ideas are transferred to more abstruse significations, and made to stand for ideas that come not under the
cognizance of our senses ; e. g., to imagine, apprehend, comprehend, adhere, conceive, instil, disgust, dis-
turbance, tranquillity, etc., are all words taken from the operations of sensible things, and applied to cer-
tain modes of thinking. Spirit, in its primary signification, is breath ; angel, a messenger ; and I doubt
not but if we could trace to their sources, we should find in all languages the names which stand for things
that fall not under our senses to have had their first rise from sensible ideas." — Locke, Essay, 33. iii., c.l, § 5.
A more profound inquiry into the history and etymology of particular languages show3
beyond question that the radicals and many primitive words were first applied to sensible objecta
28 INTEODUCTION, §25.
A careful study into the grounds of this fact, universally observed, will show that it could not
be otherwise. How could one mind first communicate with another, except by some sensible
sign common to both ? To such a sign the speaker must direct the eye of the hearer, after
*vhich it could stand before both as the common representative or symbol of the thoughts of
the two. It is not easy in all cases to decide what determined the selection of this or that
physical image to represent a particular act or state. Even when the same image is used in
dialects and languages that are remote, it is sometimes difficult to ascertain what affinity it has
for the spiritual object. But the facts are unquestioned. In many cases the physical image is
forgotten, and has passed out of view. But in many others it is more or less forcibly sug-
gested whenever the word is used, and it often so obtrudes itself as to mislead and confuse the
conceptions and reasonings which are applied to spiritual objects. — Cf. K. F. Becker, Das Wort
in seiner organischen-Verwandlung. — §§ Y7-S0.
8 25. The physical analogon which led to the selection of
Misleading in- ° L J °
fineace of lan- the word often lurks behind its psychical import, and is
ready suddenly to spring out before the eyes, and not unfre-
quently to suggest erroneous and mischievous conclusions. Let the word
impression be used, as it naturally is, for some affection of the intellect or
the emotions, and it is not unlikely that it should be conceived and rea-
soned of as involving some pressure or impulse. A mental image is taken
to be a literal drawing or picture that is painted on the ' presence-chamber '
of the soul, or can be restored or re-illuminated by the memory. The
objects of the external world are said to be out of the mind, while the
image or remembrance is said to be in it ; as though the soul filled a por-
tion of space, and disposed its thoughts within its walls or limits. The mem-
ory is conceived as a storehouse of facts, dates, or principles, all ready to
be taken down or drawn out when required. Consciousness is thought
and reasoned of as though it were an inner light, which illumines by its
radiance the dark and winding recesses of the world within. Conscience
is the voice of God, speaking with the distinctness and authority of audible
speech.
"When we reflect on the import of such terms in their application to the soul, we readily
assent to the proposition that they are metaphors, either fresh or faded. But we do not always
observe, nor do we always guard against the insidious influence of the image from which the
metaphor was taken. When we are occupied with the thought, and not with the word — when
we are reasoning earnestly, or seeking a solution which evades us, the material image will sup-
ply a suggestion which is more plausible than valid, and it will lead us to a conclusion which
is both foolish and false. In such cases we reason and infer, not from what we know, but from
what we say ; and the very language which we use to define and steady our thinking, confuses
and distracts it. Inasmuch as all the language which we use is material in its origin and struc-
ture, it will incidentally favor all those views of the soul which are materialistic, either as pro-
fessed theories or insensible associations. The superficial thinker will press the physical senses
of the words which he uses into the service of his theories ; the careless thinker will be
imposed upon by the physical associations which the words suggest. When difficulties or even
contradictions are suggested by the physical sense of the language employed, they will einbar-
i aga and disconcert the thinker who docs not reflect that they spring from the representation
of the phenomena by language, and not from the phenomena themselves. Thus, it may be
urged. How can the soul act at a point where it is not present ? How can it feci, if an impres-
§25. THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 29
sion is not carried to its portal ? How can it originate, without itself being moved ? How
can it be conscious of its states, without having first experienced the state of which it is con.
scious ? The physiologist, in attempting to explain the phenomena of sensible perception, aa
he passes the mysterious line which divides the affection of the organ from the action of the
mind, is tempted to carry with him material conceptions, by the very force of the language
which he utters, and to find an argument for the truth of these conceptions in the very Ian
guage which he is forced to employ. Indeed, the history of psychology is a perpetual testi
mony to the truth, that materialistic conceptions and theories find their readiest justification in
the terms which the most thorough Spiritualist is forced to employ, and that a quasi-material-
ism seems to spring out of the very language by which it is confuted. Hence it becomes so
important that the conceptions which we form should be sharply distinguished from the Ian
guage in which they are uttered ; and that the student of psychology should place himself
ever on his guard against the influence of the images and associations which are continually
put into his mouth by the language which the necessities of his being force him to use ; which
language, however high it may soar into the spiritual, can never free itself from the matter in
which all its terms have their origin.
THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO LIFE AND LIVING BEINGS.
The considerations already presented are sufficient to prove that the soul is no*
Reasons for material in its structure. But its relations to organized or living matter require a
discussing the more careful analysis, if we would do justice to all the questionings of modern physi-
subjeot further. ology, and conduct our inquiries in a thoroughly scientific spirit. In order to de-
termine these more subtle relations of the soul to life and living beings, we need first
to ask " What is life, or what is a living being? " and next "What are the relations of the soul to life ?"
These questions have been often asked, and variously answered. Recent investigations and discussions
have invested them with special interest and importance.
1. Life, and Living Beings.
Terms defin- Material things or beings are readily and universally divided into the two classes
ed and question of organized and unorganized, and the matter of which each is composed is distin-
stated. guished as organic and inorganic. In unorganized beings, the material constituents
are combined according to the ordinary laws of mechanical and chemical union into
homogeneous substances. Organized beings, on the other hand, are heterogeneous, i. e., they are mado
up of parts which are unlike in structure, form, and function. Even of organized beings the lowest forms
are divided into parts called organs, to each of which is assigned some function or operation which is
shared by no other, and which is essential to the existence of the whole, and to the action of each of the
parts. A being so constituted is an organized being, or an organism, and its matter is called organic.
An organized being, when in such a condition as to be capable of performing its functions under its
appropriate conditions or stimuli, is a living being. The condition itself is called life.
So far all parties agree in their definitions and theories. But as soon as the question is raised, on
what does this peculiar condition depend, or what produces and sustains that form of existence and
action which is organic and living, we find that philosophers in ancient and modern times differ greatly
in the answers which they give.
Among the ancient philosophers the atomists explained life by the fortuitous mix-
Opinions of ture of atoms, acting by the mechanical laws which were by them rudely conceived
the ancient phi- and defined. Avery large number, however, accounted for these phenomena by a
losophers. separate agent, called the soul, which, alike in plants and animals, was thought to be
the cause of the organic structure, and its organic functions. In the higher forms ot
being, as in man, this soul or vital principle was supposed to attain to certain emotional and intellectual
functions. As the capacity for the highest functions, it received another appellation, and in the opinion
of Aristotle, as he is generally interpreted, this higher nature, the Now?, was in some way added; to the
lower forces, and qualified to maintain a separate existence, after the destruction of the body.
Plato taught positively, though in mythical language, that the soul is pre-existent to the body, and
Immortal in its duration ; that it is ethereal in its essence, opposite in every respect to the matter to
which it is reluctantly subjected, and which soils its purity, obscures its intelligence, and weakens
ite energy.
30 INTKODUCTION. § 25.
The distinction of body, soul, and spirit, o-wju.a, ^ivxn, irvevixa, is sanctioned by the writers o'f. '.he Old
and New Testaments, and was adopted by the early Greek fathers as being psychologically exact and of
great scientific and theological importance. A few writers made the 7rvei)jtAa of the New Testament
coincident with the Platonic and Aristotelian Nous, and the tyvxv equal to the vital and phantastic soul,
or the latter only— reserving the <rajua for vitalized matter, or else making the irveviia to be the
vitalizing principle.
In modem philosophy, in consequence of Platonic and Christian ideas, and under
the influence of the philosophy of Descartes, the soul has been more sharply con-
i> deWs*1*5 trasted with matter and extension in all its forms. As a natural result, the soul, as
the principle and agent of the higher functions, was separated from the agent of living,
organized matter, or the principle of life. Under the influence of the new philosophy,
—the mechanical philosophy of Descartes and of Newton,— the question, what is the living principle, as-
sumed a new interest. "With the progress of modern anatomy and physiology, the mechanical structure
of the skeleton came to be more perfectly understood, and the adaptation of the form and adjustments
of every one of its parts to the communication of force and the direction of motion, familiarized and
deepened the conviction that the human frame in its structure and activities, may be explained by
mechanical relations and laws.
The discovery of the circulation of the blood by the contraction and dilatation of the heart, and the
connection of these movements with the expansion and contraction of the lungs, called the attention of
physiologists more distinctly to the presence of mechanical agencies in functions where their presence
had not been suspected. The somewhat recent discoveries of modern chemistry, that many of the most
important vital functions, as respiration, assimilation, and excretion, are attended by, or result in the
composition and decomposition of chemical elements, according to chemical laws, have led many to
contend that the existence of the organs themselves, and the combination of them into an organism,
are to be ascribed almost entirely to chemical agencies, and that life itself is but an abstract term for
the conspiring activity of manifold subtle mechanical and chemical forces. Whatever is peculiar in the
origination, structure, and functions of living beings, it is believed by many, can be accounted for by the
operation of the mechanical and chemical properties of matter in obedience to their well-known laws,
acting under special conditions.
This theory is rejected as unsatisfactory by very many eminent physiologists and physiological
chemists. They contend with equal earnestness that the phenomena peculiar to living beings cannot
be explained without the supposition of some additional property or agent, which is essential to their
formation and preservation, as well as to the performance of many of their peculiar functions.
This agent, cause or force, has received various appellations. Blumenbach calls it
Various appel- tne nisusformativus or Biidungs-trieb ; John Hunter the vital principle ; "William Prout,
lations for vital the organic agent, the distinguished John Miiller, the organic force. It is more usually
f01'CG- called the vital force. Schmid of Dorpat terms it somewhat carefully the transmuting
cell power, and Bischoff, of Munich, defines it as " the peculiar and individual cause or
force which creates and shapes the whole body, and manifests psychical qualities by means of the brain,"
thus blending the vital and psychical force in one.
In support of the opinion that there is such an agent or force, the following reasons are urged :
1. Every living being originates from a being that is already organized or living.
Life originates ~^° we^ authenticated account has been given of the production of the lowest form of
only from a life in any other way. No experiment has ever been successful which had for its
living being. object the origination of a living being from elements that were not already living.
Even those substances or things of which we can hardly say whether they are or are
not living, are produced from an existence like themselves, or from some seed, cell, spore, or organized
portion of matter that has the same kind or degree of life. Without going back to the first beginning of
things, or raising any questions about subsequent acts of creation, we find the fact unquestioned, that
the existing world of nature is divided into organized and unorganized matter", and that, while the
organized depends on the unorganized for the conditions of its existence, and whon these conditions fail
is resolved into it again, it has yet never been known to originate from this alone. This fact or law
widely extended and universally prevalent, indicates, if it does not prove, that living beings depend upon
a force and obey laws which to some extent are peculiar to themselves.
Huxley concedes this fairly and distinctly—" I need not tell you, »' he says (Origin of Species, III.)
" that chemistry is an enormous distance from tho goal I indicate. * * * It may be that it is im-
possible for us to produce tho conditions requisite to life ; but we must speak modestly about the matter,
and recollect that science has put her foot upon tho bottom round of the ladder. Truly he would be a
bold map who would venture to predict where she will be fifty years hence."
If life were but another name for a peculiar combination and activity of mechanical and chemical
forces, we might prcsumo that somewhere and at some time, those had been, or might be combined bo
as to produce living beings or the germs of the same, and that in the lowest or more elementary forms of
life there would be some suggestion or semblanco of such origination. But neither observation, experi-
ment nor history give record, or hint of such an occurrence. The belief in its possibility is a matter of
g 25. THE RELATIONS OE THE SOUL TO MATTES. 31
pure inference. ' The doctrine of the evolution of the organic from the inorganic, as held by Darwin and
Herbert Spencer, is founded on a special metaphysical theory, resting on analogies violently strained
from observed facts, but not confirmed by a single observed event, or experimentum cruris. The only
evolutions and developments actually observed, lie respectively within the spheres of the organic and tha
inorganic. The one sphere has never been evolved or developed from the other.
In view of these facts, and even the analogies which they suggest, there is little force in Spencer's
confident assertion, founded on mere metaphysical romancing. Though he applies his remark to the
evolution of one organism from another, yet he would extend it to the evolution of the organic from the
inorganic. " If instead of the successive minutes of a child's foetal life "we take successive generations of
creatures — if we regard the successive generations as differing from each other no more than the foetus
did in successive minutes, our imaginations must indeed be feeble if we fail to realize in thought the
evolution of the most complex organism out of the simplest. If a single cell, under appropriate condi-
tions, becomes a man in the space of a few years, there can surely be no difficulty in understanding how,
under appropriate. conditions, a cell may in the course of untold millions of years, give origin to the
human race."— Principles of Biology, § 118.
2. The process of nutrition or growth is peculiar in respect of its material and the
The process of ™-ethod of assimilation, neither of which can be explained by mechanical or chem-
nutrition and ical forces or laws.
growth peculiar. rp-^g ij_vjng. 'being is composed of material constituents, it has chemical and mechan-
ical properties, and to a certain extent obeys the laws which these properties involve.
As it adds to its substance by nutrition, and increases its size by growth, its aliment possesses material
properties and obeys material laws. But while the aliment, the process and the product, all show these
properties and comply with these laws, neither these actions nor their results exclude the cooperation of
another force. Nor, again, does the belief in such a force require us to believe that it produces effects
not evident to the senses, or that it manifests its presence and power in any way except by controlling
and modifying the action of the lower forces.
That these forces are so controlled in nutrition and growth, is evident from the general fact that
nutrition and growth can only be expected from an aliment which has been already modified by the
action of some living being. The fact is now well established, that the food of every species of animal-
life, the lowest as well as the highest, must directly or indirectly be prepared for assimilation in the
vegetable kingdom. The chemical materials which enter so largely into its substance cannot be appro-
priated in their inorganic condition from the earth,' the air, and water in which they abound. The begin-
ning of all nutrition is in vegetable life, and the beginning of vegetable life is in the vegetable cell. But
this, it would seem, must directly assimilate its chemical constituents, so that in the last resort, it might
be urged, we find the organic feeding on the inorganic. On inspection of the cell, however, we find that
it begins to exist with its food already prepared. The living being — the cell — not only owes its existence
to another living being, but it derives from such a being the food by which it is to be nourished, which
food is in a certain sense living. So soon as it exists as an organism, it exists with its, so to speak, or-
ganized aliment— an aliment affected by the action of a force peculiar to the organism. Its growth
depends upon the preparation of its food as well as upon the process of assimilating it to its substance.
The food of both animal and vegetable, though chemical in its constitution, is also organic or partially
organized.
Without insisting on any thing that is in dispute, or is yet undetermined among chemists and physi-
ologists, as to the peculiarity of the compounds that are formed in organic assimilation, or the laws of
their formation, without even insisting upon the catalytic process, which is peculiar to organic beings,
we are content to contrast the formation of the crystal with the growth of the animal and vegetable cell.
The liquid in which the crystal-nucleus is placed, and from which it is formed, has certain chemical
ingredients, which neither itself nor any other nucleus has any influence in providing or preparing. It
surrounds this nucleus, to the external walls of which certain of its elements are attached by mechanical
adhesion in regular forms. The wall or coat of the animal or vegetable cell, on the other hand, is an
agent that strains and secretes aliment through its substance and brings it within its limits, making
it a part of itself. "When it "has prepared it for use, it proceeds to assimilate it to itself. Its growth
is not, however, a mere enlargement of bulk by accretion of new matter to the individual ceil already
in being. It can only grow as it prepares new cells, each like itself in structure and function, and adds
them to itself by the closest union. The cell — the beginning of life — not only begins with an aliment
prepared, but with the capacity to produce another cell, and by this production it grows. This process
of growth, though involving mechanical and chemical processes and results, is a process wholly un-
known to the mechanics and chemistry of other kinds of matter, and cannot be accounted for by such
processes or laws either singly or in combination.
In all other combinations except the vital, the result or product is purely mechanical or chemical, and
is distinguished by mechanical and chemical attributes. These may be unlike those of the constituents,
but they are clearly like them as being mechanical and chemical, and nothing more. The properties of a
neutral salt, though unlike, and perhaps opposed to those of either of the constituting elements, still obey
mechanical and chemical laws, and produce effects which are appropriate to these modes of action. Id
32 INTRODUCTION. § 25.
tbe organic product the result is an agent capable of a function or mode of action peculiar to a living
being, a function which can be said to be chemical or mechanical only so far as it deals with material
substances, and controls their properties in a manner peculiar to itself. Thus the lungs, the heart, and
the brain have definite chemical constituents, perhaps the same or perhaps not the same in each. But
the product in each is an organ capable of a special and unshared function, -which controls and modifies
the mechanical and chemical properties of inorganic being, but is not itself for that reason a mechanical
or chemical agent.
3. Growth in a living being proceeds after a definite plan, and is adapted to the end
Growth x>ro- °^ *ne individual and the species. This adaptation applies to the structure, form, and
ceeds after a function of every part and organ.
plan. Inorganic accretions are homogeneous in respect to material, figure, and properties.
"With a given nucleus and a given material, the union is of the same to the same, and
the product, so far as structure is concerned, is similar in all its parts. The form is determined by some
mechanical agency, which is purely accidental, and hence such substances are, with one exception, said
to be formless, i. e., without determined form. In the crystal, with homogeneity of structure, there is
deQniteness, and to a certain extent, variety of form. But the symmetrical variety in the species is
accounted for by the law of polarity, determining a special mechanical structure in a special chemical
material. Deviations in the individual from the form of the species, are referred to some disturbing
mechanical influence, which arrests or impedes the production of the completed form.
But in organic growth the structure is heterogeneous. The several parts, i. e., organs of a plant or
animal are more or less unlike in their chemical constitution, though they are fed by the same aliment.
They are still more unlike in form. The root, the stem, the bud, the bark, the leaf, the flower of every
plant, the external members, and the internal organs of the simplest animal, are unlike each other, even
to the halves of the same pairs. The wholes made up of these parts arc unequal in siae in each individ-
ual. There is nothing in tbe action of any known mechanical or chemical forces to indicate or account
for this diversity, which is constantly repeated, and runs into every minute and subordinate detail.
These several parts are not only diverse in their structure and form but they are also diverse in their
functions. To each is assigned a duty which is peculiar to itself and which no other does or can
perform.
But each part though diverse and peculiar in each of these particulars is adapted to every other in
each ; to the structure, the form, and function of every other, which all together are adapted to the form,
material and sphere of existence of the whole which these parts compose. Each part has a form not
only more or less adapted to the successful discharge of its functions, but also to the form of every other
part, so as with it to make a whole which shall be convenient for its nses and perhaps distinguished by
beauty and grace. The function of each organ is adapted to act with the function of every other, in
such a way that the continued existence of the whole is maintained; and the well-being of the whole in
its turn promotes the well-being and successful action of the parts.
This growth after a plan is peculiar to living or organized beings. In the known operation of me-
chanical and chemical laws there is nothing which secures such a devolopement or result. The plan in-
volves more than the perfection of a single individual ; it contemplates the production of several individ-
uals of different characteristics before the cycle is completed and ready to begin anew. Should the pos-
sibilities of development within the sphere of living beings be proved to be greatly extended, as far as
the most extravagant theorists contend, it would only increase the mystery of life, because it would en-
large the complexity of the plan which the living force tends to complete, and of the destiny which it is
able to fulfil. The egg of the winged moth, or butterfly, includes in the plan and destiny of its being
capacities to be developed into and through three forms of existence. This does not set aside the truth
that the egg is developed after a plan, but rather confirms and enforces it.
4. Living beings are still further peculiar, in that their existence and growth involve
Matter changes a constant change of material in consistency with integrity of being and sameness of
but form is pre- form. Combinations purely mechanical and chemical, wThen completed, remain, or
served. jf there is any action or reaction In the material, they are attended with change of
structure or alteration of form. But in a plant or animal, the whole or large portions
of their substance are changed in a longer or shorter period, while the form is unaltered, or if changed
it is enlarged after the original pattern. While gradual and often unobserved changes of structure are
going on, the functions of each part are not in the least interrupted.
5. Organic beings are very largely susceptible of repair. A carious bone may be
hollowed out, and yet, if the periostemn remains entire, the cavity may be filled by a
Li.to U(lnilta ro_ Bccond growth. The paws of the salamander may be cut off, and the wholo be restored
after the pattern of the first. The bones, twenty or more, the skin, nerves, muscles,
and vessels, all will be reproduced in as perfect adaptation as in the original. {Flou-
rens, De la Vie et de V Intelligence, P. I., sec. I., c. 2.)
No phenomenon like this is known to chemical and mechanical forces or their laws.
These features, all of which are more or less conspicuously manifested in all organic and living being*,
have led many of the most eminent physiologists to the conclusion that there is an organic or vital forc«
§25- THE DELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 33
in every living being. Such a force must from its nature be an individual force, possessing, indeed, the
common characteristics which we have noticed, but maintaining in each an activity which begins and
ends with its individual existence. In this respect this description of force is strikingly contrasted with
all known activities of general physical laws. A mechanical force can be imparted and withdrawn, again
and again, to and from, the same mass of matter. Its parts can be separated and again be compressed
and united so as to restore its integrity. The same chemical elements can be combined and decomposed
into substantially the same product, with the same particles, in the same form, and capable of similar
functions. But a living being, when its integrity is destroyed, can never live again. Should the same
particles be again united in an organism it would not be the same being. Its individuality is indicated
by beginning with a germ, maintaining continuous nutrition, and discharging uninterrupted functions.
The conclusion which we have reached, that there is a separate vital principle or
Opposite views force is rejected by many philosophers and physiologists. Those who hold that the
stated and de- soul is material in its composition, must of necessity reject the view that there is a
fined, separate principle of life. Those who account for the existence of the higher forms
of being in matter, life and spirit, by a preconceived theory of evolution of the higher
from the lower, are precluded by the necessity of their metaphysical theory from accepting a vital force.
We may properly leave the views and arguments of both these classes unconsidered and notice the more
plausible reasons which are urged by many eminent physiologists of other schools.
The view which they hold in common, under a great variety of special diversities of opinion, may be
expressed in the following proposition. The terms life, living, &c, are general and abstract expressions
for a great variety of powers and processes, which are proved or may be presumed to be chemical and
mechanical. The fact that these processes and powers are so very peculiar in their phenomena and their
products, is to be accounted for by the special combinations or special conditions in which they act.
Thus Carpenter defines life " as the state of action peculiar to an organized body or organism." He con-
tends that there would be no objection save the probability of its abuse to the employment of the terms
" Vital Principle," " Nisus Formativus" or " Organic Force, "as convenient names for the unknown
powers which are thus developed.
Richerand defines life as "a collection of phenomena which succeed each other during a limited time
in an organized body." De Blainville says : " Life is the twofold internal movement of composition and
decomposition at once general and continuous." " Life," according to Mr. G. H. Lewes, " is a series of defi-
nite composite changes both of structure and composition which take place in an individual without de-
stroying its identity." Herbert Spencer, after several tentative definitions, concludes with this : Life is
" the definite combination of definite composite heterogeneous changes, both simultaneous and successive,
in correspondence with external coexistences and sequences." R. Virchow makes " the vital force to be
the expression of the definite co-working of physical and chemical forces." Lotze, the distinguished
physiologist of G-ottinggn, says, that " living functions are not simply forces but capacities for functions
which arise out of the special method of conjoining material particles into a coherent system.'1 All life,
in his view, depends " on the complicated relations under which the physical powers act as an organism."
Aa a general argument in support of his views Carpenter uses an illustration which
Carpenter's il- we Presume would be accepted by all who reject a " vital force." " We shall sup-
lustration and pose a young physiologist, entirely ignorant of physical science, but educated in im-
argument. plicit faith in the vital principle, witnessing for the first time the action of the steam
engine." " He would observe a machine of various parts, would try various experi-
ments, would perceive that the actions are as unlike as the parts, and all tend to one result." " Heuce
he may safely conclude that the whole series of phenomena is due to one presiding agency — a ' steam-
engine principle,' — by the operation of which upon the material structure, its actions are produced and
made to harmonize with each other and with their ultimate object." In our view no example could
possibly be employed which is better fitted to refute the theory of Dr. Carpenter, and establish the
opposite, than is this very illustration. The reason why it is absurd to accept a " steam-engine princi-
ple " in a steam engine, and not absurd to accept a vital principle in a living being, is that a careful study
of the parts of the machine which are alleged to be analogous to the organs of the body, reveals the
operation of forces that in other connections are familiarly known in their laws and their products. There
is nothing new in the action of the separate parts of the engine when separate and when combined in
a whole. Each part, as a part, only does what we have often observed in other cases. The joint action-
of many of the parts, their conspiring, correcting and modifying movements, is just what we should pre-
dict if we had analyzed those several forces and carefully computed their result. We reject the steam-
engine principle by the law of parsimony, because no such force is needed to account for the result. We
accept the vital principle because no known force or function is adequate, or may be fairly presumed from
analogy to be adequate to the result. The nature of heat, its power to generate steam, the elastic force of
steam, the means of producing it, the various devices by which it can be introduced and displaced, the
methods of converting the direct motion into the circular, are all familiar in other connections. If a
eingle phrase or term is used for their combined action as directed to one result, such a term is at once
3
34 INTRODUCTION. § 25.
understood to be nothing more than an abstract expression for the conspiring activity of well-known
ngents. If the illustration were pertinent to the vital force, and established Carpenter's doctrine, it ought
to be possible to analyze the living body into certain organs, each possessed of well-known powers an*l
•acting after well-known laws, and producing or tending to results that each, fully and clearly accounts for.
But this is not possible. There are separate organs, each endowed, it is true, with certain mechanical
and chemical properties, but these organs, with all these capacities and tendencies to action, do not in their
combination explain the functions nor define the conception of a living being. It is because these
properties are modified and controlled to functions and results unknown in any other connection that
we ask what is the power which controls them. It may be said that they overrule and control one another,
or that they act with or against one another, and so the result follows and this co-action or counteraction
of such known forces is life. To this we have only to rejoin that we cannot trace the result to the
known joint or counter action of one force with another. There is nothing in the nature or tendency of
these forces supposed when acting alone which would lead us even to suspect that such results as those
in question would follow when they act in conjunction.
We allow, as has been already said, that chemical and mechanical properties and laws are present in
a living being, for we trace their presence and measure their action ; but inasmuch as this action is con-
trolled by some agency other than their combined action, so far as known to us, we are compelled to ask,
What is that agency ? We are driven back tc }he necessity of assuming that there is an agency or force
which is distinct and separate from the combined activity of forces already known.
Under the pressure of this difficulty, those who reject a vital force adopt one of two
Two other ex- expedients. They either assert that the special combinations of mechanical and
pedients resort- chemical elements which occur in living beings develop capacities before unknown
ed ta -and unsuspected, because undeveloped, or they find in the special circumstances and
conditions of living beings a sufficient explanation of the development of these before
unknown capacities, in the new form of vital processes and phenomena. In respect to both they reason,
that though there is no decisive evidence that these new combinations of forces or the special conditions
of their action do develop these special mechanical or chemical agencies, yet the probability that they do is so
overwhelming as to stand in place of a demonstration, until the contrary has been shown to be impossible.
Thus M. J. Schleiden reasons, " It is certain that chemistry has solved many questions in respect to
life by means of the eame laws which operate in inorganic bodies ; that no one doubts that electricity
and galvanism affect organic beings ; these are with all bodies subject to the laws of gravitation, cohe-
sion, adhesion, &c, &c. Nor do we as yet know the limits of the efficiency of any one of these forces in
organic beings. Conceding that there were a special vital force, so much is clear, that we ought not to
speak of it until not a doubt remained that we had fully investigated to its extremest limits the sphere
of the efficiency of all the organic forces in organic beings. Then only could we be in a situation to deter-
mine with absolute certainty, whether, of that whole which we call life, a greater or smaller portion re-
mained which could not be referred to inorganic agencies. Thus, and thus only, could we reach a vital
force."— (Grundzuge der vnssenschaftlichen Botanik. Leipzig. 1845.)
In the same spirit Lotze urges that the necessity of resorting to a vital force can only be demon-
strated by first exhausting every conceivable experiment and theory which supposes the possible opera-
tion of mechanical and chemical laws. While he candidly concedes that no experiments prove this, he
dogmatically advances the theory that there may still be- certain points of affinity and action between
inorganic agencies, which, if known, would fully explain the vital phenomena.
Of these suggestions of possible modes and conditions of action, we can only say that if
^ there are no indications of such modes and conditions, it is unphilosophical to believe
the" are pos?i- them. To do so would require a course of induction that would set aside the force of
ble. the methods of agreement and difference, neither of which could prove any thing
against the possible suggestion of unknown and unindicated methods of action. The
simple fact that these lower forces are known to be present in organic beings, and to be effective of certain
results, suggests no more than the bare possibility of their activity to other and even to vital eflects, but if
possibility does not ripen into evidence by positive tests, it must be set aside. The fact that these agencies?,
as Schleiden intimates, have explained certain vital phenomena before deemed inexplicable, signifies no
more than that we now trace their presence further than we had suspected it ; but it does not in the least
account for the peculiarity of certain other effects which chemistry and mechanics can in no way explain.
But it is urged that an analogous fact is furnished in the formation of many chemical compounds—
as when certain neutral salts exhibit properties of which the constituents gave no intimation ; and when
ingredients that are mild and harmless do, as soon as they are combined in certain proportions, produce
substances that are acrid and destructive. To this it is replied, that the new properties or activities,
though unlike those of the constituent elements, in certain respects are like them all, in so far as that
they are still chemical properties. They do not belong to an entirely different sphere, as do the vital
powers. The properties of the chemical substance are not only chemical, but they are permanent
and fixed. Those of the vital organism aro not only peculiar in their nature, but capable of variations
and progress. The rudiment of life in the animal or vegetable, on the other hand, is not fixed, but is
cu-ublc of change and development ; it is even potential of the whole organism. The living oell ig
§25.
THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 35
not only organized, but organific, as it is capable of growth and development into new organs, with
peculiar and as yet unknown and unused functions.
Moreover it can be demonstrated that animal cells which have precisely the same chemical compo
sition, and are precisely similar in every other property, are developed into animals of entirely different
species. This is true not only of the cells of different species of certain infusoria, but of the cells of larger
animals belonging to the same genus, which exhibit, when developed, striking diversities of size, form.
&c. One cell or germ of given chemical constituents, say of a mouse, is not only organific of a product
of a given form, size, functions, &c, but another cell of the same constituents produces another product,
differing in form, size, and functions, say an elephant.
Those who do not accept the argument ab ignorantia which we have described, 01
who will not rest their cause upon the general probabilities to which we have re-
conditions * ferred, seek to find a decisive reason for the diverse character of the inorganic and
organic phenomena in the peculiar conditions to which the agencies are subjected,
which they contend are common to both. Some explain the development of the
organic from the inorganic by heat. Some resort to light as the sufficient cause for the evolution of mat
ter into life. But heat and light, though both are essential to growth and life, cannot be shown to be
the originators of the capacity for either in a substance that under every variety of either and of both,
may remain inorganic and dead. Others contend that at certain periods of existence, the inorganic mate-
rials might have been more sensitive to these agencies, and so the agencies themselves have become
almost creative. But these are mere conjectures of what is possible.
Others resort to organization itself, as furnishing the required conditions under which
. < these chemical and mechanical agencies manifest vital effects. Thus Carpenter says :
sorted to. " ^e nn<^ nothing, then, in our fundamental idea of matter to oppose the doctrine that
vital properties are developed in it by the very act of organization.1' " For no one can
assert that there does not exist in every uncombined particle of matter which is capa-
ble of being assimilated, the ability to exhibit vital actions when placed in the requisite conditions ; in
other words, when made a part of a living system by the process of organization." " The process of
organization" and "the capacity of being assimilated" are phrases which include the very thing to
be accounted for and defined. What is organization, is the very question which needs to be answered.
Is it or is it not a peculiar combination of material particles which enables their mechanical and
chemical properties to evolve and exhibit vital phenomena ? The capacity of matter to be assimilated,
what is that? To say that the reason why material particles, when united, pass into a substance which
is alive, is owing to the fact that a living being assimilates them, and they are capable of being united
to its substance, is to overlook the question to be answered, which is, what is the force which organizes?
Herbert Spencer, in a similar way, takes refuge in the phrase physiological units, after being forced to
reject chemical and morphological units as inadequate. (JPrinc. of Biology, § 66.)
Nor does it relieve the difficulty to say, with Carpenter and Lotze, that it is compe-
. tent for the Creator only to organize material particles into a living being. The
Power. question still remains, What is it to create or originate a living being ? What is a liv-
ing being when it is created? What does the Creator perform, and what is the product
of his act? Does he simply develop capacities which were latent in mechanical and
chemical attributes, or does he give to some of these particles a new force which is capable of organizing
matter into life, and of propagating life ? Is life the cause or is it the effect of the organization of matter ?
The special conditions sought for are supplied by some in the brain or nerve power. But brain or
nerve power, if it means any thing more than the sum total of the particles of which the brain and nerves
consist, must mean the same as organized particles or organizations. With this interpretation of the
phrases, the original difficulty returns with ah its force.
The objection is sometimes urged, that if life means any thing more than material par-
ticles specially coordinated and combined, there could be no possibility of the decay
mits of decav or ext'ncti°n °f ^e' If life modifies and controls other agencies, these agencies can-
not be injurious or destructive to life— which is contrary to the facts of experience. To
this it is sufficient to reply that the doctrine of vital force does not necessarily involve
absolute and complete control over these agencies. The vital agency may, by its very nature, be capa-
ole of assimilating only certain particles into the living substance. The simple repetition of the act of
assimilation may involve the weakening of the assimilating force. The introduction of uncongenial ma-
terial, in quality or quantity, may both deteriorate the various tissues which are its product and hasten
its dissolution. Organized matter may be but an equilibrium of balanced forces, the chemical and me-
chanical on the one side, and the vital on the other. When the balance is disturbed, disease may be the
consequence ; when it is entirely and irrecoverably l03t, the dissolution of the organism may follow.
Another objection may be urged against the doctrine of a vital force — that it is, by ita
No objection very definition, an individual agency, and that science can know nothing of such
that it is indi- forces or their laws. Science, it will be alleged, knows only general agencies with
v aal- their universal laws. To this it might be replied, so much the worse for science, if its
conceptions of being are so onesided and narrow, and its assumptions are so hasty
36 INTRODUCTION. § 25.
and positive. If science does not recognize the individual, it must overlook the best result of science,
which is to explain individual events by general laws. It must deny purpose and design in nature,
which must be assumed to impart the highest interest to every combination of universal agencies. It
would seem that the general and the individual are correlative conceptions, and the denial of the one as
a fact must involve the impcssibility of the other as a thought. Though it may be true that science has
*he most direct concern with the general, yet it is also true that it impliedly assumes the individual as
giving meaning to the general. In the recognition, on proper proof, of a vital force, as an individual
agency with common characteristics, she brings these two poles of knowledge together, or very near to
each other, as it may be expected she. would in one of the higher forms of being. Should these two rela-
tions lead her to a completed circle in the conception and laws of a form of being still higher, it would be
none the worse for science, in respect to the surety of her foundations, or her claims to confidence and
respect.
2. Relations of the Soul to Life.
The facts and considerations adduced establish the existence of a vital agent or force. It has already
been asserted, and will hereafter be proved, that there is a soul or subject of those higher activities which
are known to consciousness, viz. the rational, the emotional, and voluntary. Assuming this to be true, the
second of our two questions naturally arises at once, what is the relation of the one of these to the other ?
What is the relation of the soul to life? Are there in man two distinct agents or principles, viz., the vital
and the psychical, or do the two coincide in one, the separate terms being abstractions, hypostases for the di-
verse functions that are appropriated in language to each ? This question has, like the
question respecting the principle of life, been variously answered. The doctrines of the
ions °Pin" ancients, in respect to the community andseparableness of the two, have already been
referred to. In modern times, those who nave rejected the materialistic theory have
almost universally contended that the subject of conscious activity is an agent or
essence distinct from the principle of life. The agent or force which thinks, feels, and wills, has been sup-
posed to have nothing to do with the processes which originate and direct the corporeal functions. The
connection between the two agents or essences has usually been regarded as that of mere coSxistence or
intimate relationship. These views were the natural result of the dualistic theory of Descartes, in assert- .
ing for extension and thought, — set forth by him as the fundamental or essential attributes of matter
and spirit, — entire irrelationship to one another. Since his time, in all the varieties of psychological and
physiological theories, those who have held the soul to be spiritual and immortal have almost uniformly
and unanimously held that the agent of knowledge and feeling is distinct in essence from the principle
of life. One exception deserves to be named, in the school of G. E. Stahl, (1660-1734,) the eminent physi-
cian and chemist. Stahl maintained that the soul was active in the formation and functional processes
of the body, as well as in the exercise of the conscious activities; but he connected with this theory cer-
tain extreme doctrines which seemed to be inconsistent with its spirituality and independence of matter,
aa well as with the plainest facts of experience.
The progress of physiology in recent times, as well as the more careful study of the conditions of
certain of the psychical phenomena, have seemed to favor a theory intermediate between those of Des-
cartes and Stahl, a theory teaching the identity of the vital and spiritual forces. It may be stated thus :
The force or agent which at first originates the bodily organism, and actuates its functions, at last man-
ifests itself, as the soul, in higher forms of activity, viz., in knowledge, feeling, and wiil. In other
words, the principle of life and of psychi'-jal activity is one.
In support of this opinion the following facts are adduced : The vital phenomena pre-
Vital phenome- cede tl10 psychical in the order of time. But, in connection with the first appearance
na precede the of the latter, there are no indications to consciousness or observation of the beginning
psychical. 0f a now being or agent. The first activities of the soul are not only manifested much
later than the functions of life, but they are at first rudimental and very partially
devcloped. They are also blended with the functions of life, both in conscious experience, so far as we
can recall them, and to the observation of the looker-on, so far as he can penetrate beneath the outward
appearance. "Were the soul an essence wholly distinct from the vital agent, wo should naturally expect
that the beginning of its existence would bo made known by decisive evidence. But there is no evidence
of the sort. We curiously ask, When does it begin to be ? We cannot easily believe that, if its existence
begins with life, it should remain dormant so long, and yet be another being.
When life and 60ul are fully developed, the general intensity or energy of the rowers
The energy of °f cacn vary Av^tn one another. As the tone of the bodily life so is the general
the two propor- energy of the soul's capacities, its capacity for keenness of perception, clearness and
ti0f!Kl- range of memory, power of reasoning, energy of feeling, strength of will. When
this tone of life is lowered, as in sleep, faintness and disease, there is a general ten-
dency to depression of the psychical activities. This is the general rule or fact, to which there are
apparent exceptions to which we shall next refer. This generel rulo would indicate a common essence-
provided this can bo reconciled with other facts.
§25.
THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER.
This community of essence is still further indicated and attested by phenomena whi
look at first in the opposite direction. "We refer to those facts -which indicate that
verselv163 IU* certain special activities of life are incompatible with certain special activities of
the soul, or at least that the greatest energy of the one must be at the expense
of the greatest energy of the other. Some of those functions which pertain tc
>he so-called vegetative or nutritive soul, as of growth, digestion, sleep, draw upon the highei
nature. They seem to be so exhaustive and absorbing of a certain common stock of energy, as tc
leave little force for intellectual or emotional activity. Hence in the early period of life, when the growth
and maturing of the bodily substance and organs are going on, the intellect is physically incapable of the
strain and effort attendant upon certain functions. In adult years the states of body most unsuitable
for 6uch activities, are the states which are devoted to rest, recuperation and nourishment. In disease
and old age not only is the general tone of both body and mind lowered, but the little energy that can
be used by either seems to be withdrawn from the psychical functions and husbanded by nature to defend
and sustain the nutritive activities. These phenomena are best explained by oneness of essence.
Again : many of the conscious activities of the soul are dependent upon certain con-
The Conscious ditions and excitements which involve relations and activities of which it is wholly
depend on un- unconscious. Some of these are material and involve relations of the soul to organ-
tjes# ized, i. e., living, matter. These are best explained on the supposition that the vital and
psychical essence is one. Others are immaterial, but the existence of these proves
beyond question that the activities of the soul are not limited to what are usually recognized as its con-
scious phenomena. l
Examples of these activities and processes are the following : The act of sense-perception requires
as its condition a material object, a sensorium or nervous apparatus, the excitement of the 6ensorium,
usually through the medium of the sense-organ, and the transmission of this excitement by a continu-
ous and uninterrupted nervous organism. All these are. processes of the unconscious in man, whatever
this may be, and pertaining in part, it may be, to the living body, and dependent on the vital force alone, if
there be such a distinct agent, in part to that in the nature of the soul which qualifies it to be excited
by the aroused sensorium. Now whether or not the life and the soul are one, this certainly must be
received as unquestioned, that in addition to the soul's capacities for conscious activities, it is capable
also of eertain unconscious processes. The consideration of this fact removes the chief objection against
its identity with the principle of life, inasmuch as it demonstrates that its nature or essence is complex,
and extends beyond the sphere of its conscious activities. This complexness may reach so widely as to
include capacities for those processes which we call vital.
But still further it is to be observed that some of these processes and relations respect
material existences, and some of these consciously imply relations of extension
•TiaftSrU a n and place. We do not insist on the point that the soul must in some way or other
cognize material and extended objects, but upon the truth that the sensational ele-
ment in sense-perception involves an apprehension of some connection of the soul with
the living, viz. the extended, organism. This fact, indeed, is overlooked in the theories of some psychol-
ogists and denied in those of others, but it cannot we think be set aside (§117). If, however, this rela-
tion of the soul to extension is not pressed, because it is still in dispute, it can not be denied that the
soul is so related to extended matter as to be capable of exciting and directing the activities of its own
body. The conscious perception of matter being laid out of view, as well as the conscious location of
the soul's sensations, the relation of the soul to matter remains unquestioned. The soul holds at least
those relations to extension and matter which are implied in the unconscious processes or acts which
fulfil its conscious determinations. This fact is fitted to set aside those objections against the identity of
the vital and psychical force which are founded on the alleged impossibility that the soul should hold
any relations whatever to extension. "Whatever view be taken of the soul's spirituality, the fact cannot
be overlooked that it is capable of being affected by and of acting upon extended matter.
Again: the body is in general and particular adapted to the habits and uses of the
species and of the individual soul with which it is connected. This adaptation is so
T"dto°1fte\o(lv manifold and complete as to indicate that the agent that forms and moulds these
peculiarities is the same that uses and applies them. The human body is unlike
the body of every other species of animals, not merely in its external features of form
and function, but also in its special capacities to be the servant of the human soul. The hand is not
merely a more dexterous and finely moulded instrument than the forefoot of the quadruped and the
paw of the monkey, but is specially fitted to be used by the inventive and skilful mind. Every other part
of the human body is also especially harmonious to and congruous with the human soul, as intellect,
sensibility and will. Not only is there a general harmony between the body and 60ul of the species
as a whole, but there is in individuals a special harmony between the body and soul. The eyo that is
capable of discerning the nicest shades of color, or tracing graceful outlines of form, is usttfilly conjoined
with a special delight in color and form, as well as with a capacity of hand to reproduce what delights
both soul and eye. The ear that is physically refined in its discrimination of sounds and musical tones,
Is usually attended by a special sensibility of the soul to the delights of elocution and music, and with
INTRODUCTION. § 25.
'the physical and psychical capacity to produce the sounds which give it such pleasure. Quickness cf in
tellect is attended by organs that are mobile and acute and a temperament that is harmonious with both
intellect and organism. It is possible to account for these fine adjustments of nature by a general law of
preestablished harmony between the corporeal and the psychical, or by a special and individual direction
of Providence in every instance, but they are more rationally explained by supposing the vital agent that
forms the body and the psychical agent that uses it to be one and the same, and thus affirming an original
Ziarmony between the bodily and the spiritual endowments and capacities of this identical agent.
This conclusion is rendered more probable by the well-known fact that after the
The body is body is formed and developed, and has become the dwelling-place of the soul, it is
moulded by the changed in many respects, and as it were, formed anew by the influence of the con
eou^ scious activities. The thoughts which are entertained, the feelings which are cher-
ished, and the purposes which are enacted, mould and form the body within and
without so as to be a readier instrument and a more fit manifestation of the spiritual activities and
states. The fact is unquestionable. By what intermediate psycho-physical processes is this result
effected? If there be a vital principle, it must be accomplished by its agency. In the gradual, but
steady and certain progress made by the soul in impressing itself upon the body, it is not the matter of
the body, considered as matter, that the soul moulds and fixes for its uses by the slow but certain influ-
ences of years, or a lifetime. It is only the living, organized body that is sufficiently plastic to respond
to these forming influences. But it can be rendered plastic only by the power of the vital force. If this
force be not one and the same with the psychical agent, the two must be adapted to each other by an
arrangement more wonderful, and must work with one another with a harmony more extraordinary
than the union of the two in the same essence could possibly involve.
The sudden influence of vivid conceptions, or of excited feelings upon the muscular activities, is an-
other example of the power of the soul over the body. The imagination of a scene of cruelty and suffering
makes the flesh creep, puts the limbs into attitudes of defence and aversion, and awakens the features to
expressions of disgust or horror. Terror induces fainting, convulsions, and death. All these phenom-
ena are entirely consistent with the theory which makes the vital and the psychical forces to be one.
The capacity of the body in look, gesture, and speech, to express the thoughts and
feelings of the soul, and the capacity of the soul to interpret these bodily move-
ifests theVoul11" ment8 and effects as language, and to look through them into the soul within, by an
impulse and an art which could never be either taught or learned if nature itself did
not prepare the way— all these phenomena which elevate the body itself almost to a
spiritual essence, are more easy of explanation, if we suppose that with the capacity for the psychical
activities which are peculiar to every individual, there are also connected in onenes3 of essence those;
vital powers which act in such fine and subtle harmony with them.
To the identity of the vital and psychical agents, the following objections are urged.
Objections The Psychical and vital activities, and the agents of each, have no possible relations to
two cannot be one another, and their force cannot be united in the same being. The alleged in-
related, compatibility between the two was stated in its extremest form by Descartes :
' Thought is the essence of spirit— extension is the essence of matter ; and these have
no relations to one another. The one is known by consciousness ; the other by perception.' These
definitions, which were at first esteemed so satisfactory, because they emphasized important distinc-
tions, were found to be imperfect and one-sided by the absurdity of the logical extremes to which they
were carried. If thought is the essence of spirit, and extension the essence of matter, then, it was
inferred, it is impossible for matter to impress spirit so as to be known by it ; and it is equally impos-
sible for spirit to act upon matter so as to impel and direct it, and yet both of these are incontestable
^R facts. To overcome this difficulty, several theories were devised by the disciples -and successors of
^L Descartes, each of which was in its turn rejected as being as forced and extreme as the original
H definition which made it necessary. 'Body and spirit have no real influence or activity upon o::e
^^^ another, said one theory— the phenomena or changes of tho one are merely occasions of correspondent
Sflflrai changes in the other.' This was the theory of occasional causes, or occasionalism, as held by Gculincx.
frSllB 'These phenomena are arranged beforehand to take place in a perpetual parallelism or harmony, each
OQKi series of which runs forward in a separate line of events that matches with or corresponds to tho other,
Wf without any causal connection.' This was the theory of pre-established harmony, maintained by Leibnitz.
HB ' Matter and spirit have no separate existence ; there is only one substance in the universe, of which
Cfftf thought and extension arc the corresponding attributes or phenomena, each correspondent to each.' This
W^ was tho theory of Spi7ioza. The influence of these definitions has been felt to the present time in tie
C assertion of what arc esteemed the essential constituents of matter and spirit, in many psychological
J theories and metaphysical discussions.
SB But whatever may be assumed or laid down by philosophers as essential to the con-
rt ceptions of matter and spirit, tho fact remains unquestioned that the two are capable
V JntV*36^ ar0 **" of mutually affecting ono another. The extended and the non-extended show that they
R are capable of holding mutual relations. Matter, though extended, does actually affect
L
§25
THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 3U
i priori assumption that unextended spirit and extended matter can have no relation one to another, ar<
set aside Tby these obvious facts, attested by observation and experience. The one does affect the other,
and every objection against the essential unity of life and spirit derived from their irrelationship it
effectually disposed of by this incontestable fact.
It is still further to be observed that the matter which affects the spirit, and which is in turn affected
Dy it, is not matter which is inorganic or dead, but always that which is organized and living. It is the
natter that is ensouled, i. e., formed and animated by the vital principle, of which the spirit feels the
presence in its sensibilities, and which it can move in accordance with its will. If the principle of vital
force and spiritual activity be one and the same, then we can easily see how this agent should first
prepare matter for its higher uses, by giving it the endowments of life. This involves no subjection of
spirit to matter, but rather the subjection of matter to spirit, if indeed the latter can take the former and
by lower and unconscious activities can mould it for a dwelling-place and instrument for its service and
uses, before it enters into the possession and mastery of it by sensibility and intelligence.
It is objected again, that the view which is urged would bring the soul of man into
Animals and *°o near an affinity "with the so-called souls of animals and of plants. If the spirit of
Plants must man gives life to his body, then, it is urged, it is possible that that which gives life to
have souls. -the plant and the animal may be endowed with the attributes of intelligence and
personality. This does not follow as a necessary inference, by any means. The fact
that the soul of the plant has certain capacities and performs certain functions which we call vegetable
and living, does not carry the inference that it might also perform the higher functions which pertain to
the animal. No more does it follow that the so-called soul of either should in their nature be capable ot
performing the still higher functions which are peculiar to the spirit of man. What is asserted is simply
that the spirit of man, in addition to its higher endowments, may also possess the lower powers, which
vitalize dead matter into a human body. Because thei'e are other agents in the universe which have the
capacity to form and animate animal bodies, each in its kind endowed with its appropriate capacities
and sensibilities, and these agents are like the human soul in its lower functions, it does not in the leas'
follow that these lower souls can ever become human spirits, or can exercise human intelligence or attain
to human personality.
It, again, it be urged that the soul of the plant can be divided by the kn'.fe or separated by buds 01
germs, these facts pertain only to the vital functions of this kind of living beings. They do not degrade
the human soul to a likeness with themselves in any of those particulars in which it is most diverse from
them. Its higher endowments are not lowered in dignity because there is claimed for it the additional
function of forming for itself a material structure by a vital force which is like that which the plant or
the animal possesses. The plant and the animal on the other hand are not exalted to a higher position
or a more exalted destiny, of intelligence, personality, or immortal existence because they are like the
human soul in the single particular of ministering life to a material organism.
It might be objected, again, that this view is incompatible with the doctrine of the
Inconsistent natural and necessary immortality of the soul. The immortality of the soul has
with the soul's ever since the time of Plato, been often, not to say generally, taught as a necessary
immortality. consequence of its ethereal essence, which, in its turn, involved an essential supe-
riority to and non-conformity with gross matter. Plato taught the preexistence of the
spirit, and regarded its connection with matter as an imprisonment of its energies and a soiling of its
jiurity, and the remnants of these doctrines have survived till the present time, and have been supposed
in a certain sense to be sanctioned by, or at least to be more consistent with the Christian doctrine of
immortality. Whatever is important in the Platonic or the Christian view of the spirituality and immor-
tality of the human spirit is not at all diminished by the doctrine of its unity with the vital force. That
the soul should begin its existence by vitalizing dead matter into a sentient organism is, as has already
been intimated, a token of its power over matter. If this involves a transient subjection to material laws
and material limitations, this maybe necessary for its education and moral discipline. That the loAver
powers should be developed first in the order of time, before the higher capacities are matured, does not
detract from the essential superiority of the latter when they are in fact unfolded, nor from their im-
mortal existence and continued activity. That the soul begins to exist as a vital force, does not require
that it should always exist as such a force, or in connection with a material body. Should it require
another 6uch body or medium of activity, it may have the power to create it for itself as it has formed
the one whioh it first inhabited, or it may already have formed' it in the germ, and hold it ready for
occupation and use as soon as it sloughs off the one which connects it with the earth. These are pos-
sibilities, it is true, but they are sanctioned by sufficient evidence to set aside the objection which we
are considering. They permit the ouly theory of the soul's continued existence in another state which is
consistent with the facts of our present being. Whatever may be our speculations in respect to a pre-
existent eternity for the soul, the evidence of observation and of facts is decisive that it begins its exist-
ence as a vital agency, and emerges by a gradual waking into the conscious activities of its higher nature.
These facts it is the duty of the philosopher to adjust to the conception which he may form of its mor^K
exalted nature and its immortal destiny. He may not by mere speculation set aside the plain and
incontrovertible evidence of these indisputable facts or the suggestions which they involve.
40 INTRODUCTION. § 26.
Last of all it may be objected that consciousness testifies to a direct incompatibility
Consciousness between matter and spirit, which is decisive against the theory in question. Thai
testifies to the consciousness testifies that the matter which we perceive is not the spirit which per
opposite. ceives it, and is, in its distinguishing attributes, totally unlike it, we have already con
tended ; but this testimony does not authorize the conclusion which is derived that
spirit cannot vitalize matter. On the other hand, while consciousness testifies to the total unlikeness of
matter and spirit, it is also continually reminded that spirit is closely implicated with matter in all its
activities and experiences. The human soul knows that it is not the body which it inhabits, directs and
resists ; but it also knows itself to be in many respects subject to its power. It suffers pain and pleasure
through all the extended organism, and depends upon its aid for power to exercise its loftiest endowments.
In every form of sentient as distinguished from intellectual and emotional activity, the soul is conscious
that it is connected with the material structure from which it distinguishes itself. The fact of this con-
nection is that which consciousness most constantly attests. While, then, we accept its testimony to the
essential antagonism between spirit and matter, we accept its testimony, also, to the intimate union of
the two. This union we best explain on the theory that spirit possesses the power to shape matter into
n living existence. Consciousness does not attest directly to this view. By the nature of the case it
were impossible that it should. But it does affirm certain phenomena which are best explained by the
theory that the activities of which it is directly the witness are performed by the same agent which
forms and vitalizes the body, by processes to which consciousness can have no access, because they are
by the nature of the case withdrawn from its inspection.
The result to which these considerations lead, is only probable. We can at best establish the theory
or hypothesis which is more plausible. So far as we have any evidence it is founded on analogies that are
narrow in their origin and uncertain in their application. But for the reasons already given, we incline
to the opinion that in man the vital and psychical agent is one.
Compare Aristotle, HEPI *YXH2 — G. B. Stahl, de Vita. Halle, 1701.— John Hunter, on the Animal
Economy. London, 1786.— John Abernethy, on Hunter's View of Life. London, 1814.— J. C. Prichard, on
the Vital Principle. London, 1829.— W. Prout, Bridgewater Treatise. London, 1834.— W. B. Carpenter,
Human Physiology, also, Art. Life, in Todd's Cyclopaedia ; vol. iii. London, 1S39-1847.— C. Darwin, on the
Origin of Species, etc. New York, I860.— J. H. Huxley, Origin of Species, etc. New York, 1863.— Her-
bert Spencer, Principles of Biology, 2 vols. New York, 1867. — Professor Bichard Owen, Archetype and
Homologies of Vertebrate Skeleton. Van Voorst. London, 1848. Do. Comparative Anatomy : Invertebrata ;
Vertebrala. Longman. London, 1855. Do. On the Nature of Limbs. Do. Discourse on Parthenogenesis ;
both Van Voorst. London, 1849.— Do. Palaeontology, 2d ed. Longman. London, 1861.— T. Laycock, Mind
and Brain. Edinburgh, I860.— J. Muller, Handbuch der Physiologie des Menschen; 2 bde. Coblentz,
1835-1840. Do. translated by "William Baly. London, 1848.— H. Lotze, Arts. Leben und Lcbcnslcrafl,
Seele und Seelenlehre in Wagner, Hand-Warterbuch der Physiologie. — H. Ulrici, Gott und die Nalur. Leip-
zig, 1862. Gott und der Mensch. Leipzig, 1866.— I. H. Fichte, Anthropologie. Leipzig, 1860. Do. Psy-
chologie. Leipzig, 1864. — Br. Bouillier, Du Principe Vital et de I'Ame Pensante, A. Lemoine, L'Ame et le
Corps. Paris, 1863. Do. Staid et I'Animisme.—J. Tissot, La Vie dans I' Homme. Paris, 1861.— E. Saisset,
Richerches Nouvelles sur VAme et sur la Vie. — Revue des Deux Mondes, vol. xl. — H. Philibert, Du Princip*
de la Vie, suivant Aristole. Paris, 1865.
IIL
THE FACULTIES OP THE SOUL.
We assume, as has been already stated, that the soul is endowed with the capacity to kuovr
its own phenomena. Reserving for future consideration the nature, the development,
and the authority of this power, we proceed to apply it in inquiring what consciousness
finds to be true of the soul, in its phenomena, their conditions and laws. This is the
question which we arc continually to repeat during the entire course of our investiga-
tions. A well-ordered arrangement of the answers to this question would give a system
of psychology.
8 26. The inquiry which comes first in order is the follow-
Question con- . ' n ■% t • ii ■,.,-.
earning the fee- mg : Do ¥C nnd by consciousness that the soul is endowed
with separate faculties or powers ? This question is prelinii
nary to all others, for it must be answered, that we may direct the classi-
fication which we shall adopt, and fix the terminology in which to express
§27. THE FACULTIES OP THE SOUL. 4]
the results of our investigations. The question has been earnestly dis-
cussed, and opposite opinions in regard to it have been zealously held
and defended.
§ 27. We answer, first, negatively. We do not find that the
FarteOT or"anSot S01U ^s divided into separate parts or organs, of which one
may be active while the others are at rest. The plant and
the animal have distinct and separate organs, of which each perforins its
appropriate and peculiar function, which none of the others can fulfil. The
root, the bark, the leaf, the flower, in the one, and the stomach, the heart,
the skin, and the eye, in the other, each performs an office which is peculiar
to itself, and which it shares with no other organ. While one of these
organs is active, the others may be as yet uu developed or in a state of
comparative repose. There is no evidence of such a division of the soul
into organs. The whole soul, so far as we are conscious of its operations,
acts in each of its functions. The identical and undivided ego is present,
and wholly present, in every one of its conscious acts and states. W^e
can find no part, we can infer no part, which is not called into activity
whenever the soul acts at all. We can discover and conjecture no organs,
of which some are at rest w^hile others are in activity.
This peculiarity of the soul has not always been noticed as it should be ;
Faculties often certainly it has not always been kept in mind. The so-called faculties have
misconceived. often been conceived and described as separable organs or parts of the soul's
substance, any one of which might act of itself — nay, one or another of
which might be conceived as added to or superinduced upon another, giving so much en-
larged and diverse capacity. Sometimes the faculties have been represented as acting not only
apart from one another, but apart from the conscious soul itself; the soul being conceived
now as an arena or show-place within which the faculties might prosecute their work or play, the
soul being impassive and incognizant ; or now as a spectator of their doings, more or less
indifferent or interested. These representations are all derived from the analogies furnished
by matter and its actings ; they find no warrant in our conscious experience. The fact that
these representations are often allowed, and that they influence the reasonings and conclu-
sions of many philosophers, who in form reject them, is urged with great earnestness by those
who reject the term faculty, and the corresponding conception, on the ground that the doc-
trine and the name conflict with the soul's unity and identity.
^ , * „ , Again, we do not find it true that the soul can onlv act with
Each faculty does ' . . .
notactatasepa- one of its so-called faculties at the same instant of time.
rate time. './».'
Some suppose, perhaps inferring from a misconstruction of
the doctrine of the faculties, that when we know, feel, and decide, or
when we perceive, remember, and judge, we must perform each of these
separate acts in a definite and distinctly separable instant of time. Con-
sciousness does not allot to each distinguishable kind of activity a separate
interval or moment of duration, but before its eye many such distinguish-
able kinds of activity are united in one undivided act. We might, indeed,
conceive each of these activities to require a separate instant of time, but
We do not find this to be true in fact. ISTot only, then, is it not true that the
42 INTRODUCTION. § 28.
soul is divided into separate parts or organs, but it is nc/t true that it
cannot act variously, or with all its faculties, in the same apparently in-
stantaneous act.
§ 28. Thus far have we distinguished what is not true of
like and unlike the actings of the soul and of the faculties to which these
actings are ascribed. We ask next, What is true, and how
far is the conception and the use of the term faculty authorized by what
consciousness discovers or attests ? We assume that the identical ego, or 7,
is not only distinguishable from its own states, but that each of these states
is separated or individualized from every other, by occupying a separate
portion of time. Each of these states is known by the soul's conscious-
ness to be individually different from every other. But though they are
thus separated or severed from one another, they are united by another
relation. Among these separate acts there are many which are alike in
certain prominent characteristics or elements. These are grouped together
as the same in kind. They are discerned and pronounced to be similar,
and are therefore viewed and named as the same. Others are, for another
prominent element, gathered and named as another group. The groups
thus gathered, each under a common likeness, are as clearly separated
from one another, as the individuals in each are united by the likeness of
their common element. As we look more closely, we find that these
states are united and distinguished for the following reasons :
First, the prominent elements are known to be alike or unlike
Elements like ._..•_. . n __1
and unlike in m the immediate experience of the soul. The person who is the
subject of each, knows that what he calls his acts of knowl-
edge are alike, and also that they differ from his states of feeling and of
will, as readily and as distinctly as he knows blue from red, or green from
violet, or hard from soft, or bitter from sweet. He does not discern them
by the bodily eye, nor have they material qualities, nor are they dependent
on bodily organization ; but they are as clearly different, and, if possible,
they are more perfectly distinguished than any of these objects. For if
the soul knows any thing, it knows its own states — not only that they are,
and that they are its own, but also what they are in their quality.
If consciousness can pronounce upon any thing, it can pronounce upon what is like and
unlike in its inner experiences. These states are not its experiences only — they are very
largely its own products, the results of that self-active and tireless energy by which the ego
is continually passing into new conditions of being, or rather taking new forms or phases of
action. Many of them are produced of design, the soul distinctly setting before itself what
one of its possible states it will employ as the required means or conditions to bring them to
pas3. Unless the soul could distinguish the quality or character of its own states, it could not
design to produce them, either by direct or indirect agency,
2. The elements which are the ground of the classification
one another. °n of the several states are not .only recognized as like or un-
like, but each has a relation of dependence with respect to
§ 28. THE FACULTIES OF THE SOUL. 43
the others. Kot only is one state different from another, as a so-called
state of knowledge, feeling, or will, but the element of knowledge is
known to be the necessary condition of the element of feeling, and the
element of feeling the condition of that of will. A man does not feel,
except he knows or apprehends some object which excites feeling. He
always feels about or with respect to something cognized.
An apparent exception to this law is believed by some to present itself in the case oi
sensible perception, in every instance of which it is contended that the feeling — viz., the
bodily sensation — is the condition of the intellectual apprehension, viz., the perception. In
all other cases, it cannot be questioned that the mind only feels when, and because, it appre-
hends the object which excites the feeling. When it would increase or intensify an emotion,
it applies the intellect to the appropriate object with greater energy and a more exclusive con-
centration. When it would excite the feeling anew, it brings the object before the attentive
iutellect a second time. When it would rid itself of an emotion, or prevent its return, it
occupies the attention with some other objects, so as to excite an emotion that shall exclude
or displace the first. So clearly is this dependence recognized, that all the laws of practical
wisdom are founded upon it in respect to deliverance from or security against feelings that
are either uncomfortable or wrong. The lower exercise of prudence and self-control, as well
as the higher discipline of virtue and self-improvement, are both directed by the knowledge
of the dependence of the element of feeling on the element of cognition.
Even more than this is true. Different intellects at the same time, and the same intellect
at different times, take different views of the same objects, or apprehend in the same object
different qualities and relations. As these vary, so does the emotion vary ; and the same
object occasions different feelings in the same persons at different times, and in different per-
sons at the same time, according to the diverse judgments of the intellect.
There is a similar dependence in the acts or states of the will. To
choose, we must not only know, but we must also feel. If an object
could be simply known, and excite no feeling, it could not be chosen nor
rejected. We repeat the caution which we have before provided, that it
is neither intended nor asserted, that each of these elements occupies or
requires a separately definable or continuous portion of time, or that each
should, so to speak, stand apart before the eye of consciousness. They
may, in fact or in seeming, be blended together in a single instantaneous
state, and yet each may be distinguished as the conditionating, or the con-
ditionated element.
We have, thus, a second criterion for distinguishing dhTerent kinds of
psychical activity, as they are discerned to differ not only in their recog-
nized subjective character, but in their exciting occasion.
3. Each act or state of the soul is characterized and dis-
One element pre- . .
ponderant in tmguished by the presence and predominance of some one
of the single elements which we have named. That is, each
state of the soul is more conspicuously and eminently a state of knowl-
edge, or of feeling, or of will, one of these elements being prevailing and
predominant. It is natural and normal for the soul to blend all in one,
and by the laws of its self-active nature, to spring at once into all these
forms of its appropriate energy. If we conceive of it as knowing with
44 INTRODUCTION. §29.
out feeling, and as feeling without choosing, we conceive of it as either
undeveloped or abnormal in its actings, and as incomplete or mutilated in
their results. Its normal activity includes all these elements. At every
instant of its being it should leap as by a single bound, through the com-
pleted curve of its several capacities. Sometimes its course seems to be
arrested ; often it seems to be detained in a single element ; most usually,
we may almost say invariably, one only is prominent to the eye of con-
sciousness, the other elements being scarcely noticed as present at all. We
distinguish, remember, and name such a state by the predominating feature
or element. We think of it and call it a state of knowledge, feeling, or
will. We learn from it the appropriate characteristics of the fimction
which prevails, because one element is conspicuous in this particular state.
4. Another determining circumstance ouo\ht to be noticed.
Elements as re- ° °
lated to agent, Each of the three elements which we have as yet recognized
act, and. object. .,'-'-. -i^ii ■.
seems to have a special relation to each of the three elements
that are distinguishable in every act of consciousness, viz., the agent, the
action, and the object (§ 11). In knowledge, the object seems to occupy
the energies. In a state of aroused and concentrated attention, the object
only is thought of, and the relation of the soul to the object is that of
which consciousness chiefly takes notice. The soul itself, and the soul's
activity, seem to be almost absorbed into the object observed. In feeling,
the soul's condition is most engrossing to itself and conspicuous to others.
In acts of will, the individual agent asserts its individuality to itself, and
manifests it to others. The individual man shows by his Choices, or acts
of will, what he is; i. e., what he makes of himself by the direction and
the energy of his individual will, as well as what he can do or effect in
overcoming obstacles and accomplishing results within the sphere of mat-
ter or of spirit.
8 29. These considerations prove that the several states of
Faculty defined. .,.,,...,, ,., ,., _,.
General author- the soul are strikingly distinguished as like or unlike. Ihe
capacity of the soul for any one of these special kinds of
activity we call a faculty. If it is asked, On what ground and by what
authority ? we reply, For the same reason that we ascribe or refer any
material effect or phenomenon to a special power as its source or cause.
If any effect is constant, we ascribe it to a permanent power or quality in
the material substance. One ore of iron exhibits magnetic agency, and
produces magnetic effects. To another these are wholly wanting. To
the one we ascribe, to the other we deny the magnetic power. On the
same ground, if there were no other, we might interpret psychical effects
by referring each to a Special psychical power, which we call a faculty.
But we have higher authority for recognizing special facul-
speciai author- tjeg jn ^ Sp]iere 0f spirit, than for admitting determinate
powers in the world of matter. Of material agencies we
perceive nothing but the effects. Of the states and effects of the soul we
§30. THE FACULTIES OF THE SOUL. 45
are conscious that we are the producers. In the one case, we stand before
the curtain and see the result, which we ascribe to agencies whose arrange
inent and working we cannot directly inspect. In the other case, we are
ourselves behind the scenes, and observe the working, if, indeed, we do
not ourselves work the machinery. We are not merely cognizant of the
result when it springs up in our souls — which we find in act, we know not
whence or how — but we bring the act to pass. We know the agent, and
distinguish it from the act. We know, also, that its acts are often attend-
ed with effort, some with more and some with less, varying in all times to
our conscious experience. To certain actions, issuing in certain results, we
are prompted by no effort at all. We cannot by effort prevent ourselves
from performing them. With these it is with eminent propriety that we
connect the term faculty, from facilitas, as explained by Cicero : " Facili-
tates sunt, aut quibus facilius fit, aut sine quibus aliquid confici non
potest? — Cic. Inv., 1, 27, 41. Indeed, to say that we perform such acts
with facility, is to say very little that expresses the fulness of our mean-
ing. Power expresses far less, and hence we limit faculty to those of the
powers which are original, and not acquired. To a facility acquired by
art, or imparted by special education or discipline, we give the name power.
This is not the place fully to discuss the question, why we refer effects in matter or in
spirit to powers or agents as their necessary originators or conditions ; nor why we interpret
the kind or quality of the power by or through the kind of effect or action which is produced.
Nor can we here adjust the question, What relation has the conscious exertion of energy by
the individual agent to the conception of power which we apply respectively to the material
and the spiritual actor ? It is sufficient that we notice the fact, that we do apply it to both
kinds of beings, and that we do it with the highest propriety and with the most assured confi-
dence to the capacities of the spirit — the states of which do not come and go as clouds chase
each other across the heavens, or as one wave pushes another along the ocean, but are known
to be the manifestations of the energy of a self-conscious originator.
8 30. We call the faculties thus ascertained, the human facul-
TIigsg faculties
common to aii ties. We do so, because certain states of the soul, and cer-
tain elements of these states, are believed to be alike in all
human beings. No soul is truly human in which they are not present.
The exercise and experience of them is necessary to every perfectly consti-
tuted and fully developed human being. They may not all be active in an
infant of a few days old, but they are sure to become so, if the infant lives
and nothing interferes with its normal development.
But when we say that the soul must possess these powers in order to be
But not in the human, we do not assert that any two human beings possess them in the same
same proportion. pr0p0rtionj or exercise them with the same energy. All men perceive,
remember, and reason ; but all men do not perceive with the same quickness
and accuracy, nor do all men remember with the same readiness and reach, nor do they reason
with equal certainty and discrimination. The sensibilities of some men are obtuse, and of
others are acute. The choices and practical impulses of men differ most of all. By these,
46 INTKODTJCTION. § 33.
each man is preeminently himself, sharing in no sense his individuality with any other human
being.
8 31. In these natural and original differences, the faculties
The faculties not ° i i . ■ i i « , •
independent of are not altogether independent one of another. A powerful
one another. • -n , , -i -i -i -i • . -, . -,
intellect, to be developed into its normal attainment, needs
to he stimulated by strong feelings and to be held and directed by a de-
termined will. Nature usually provides for the possibility of such a devel-
opment, by proportioning the several endowments of the soul to one
another. Hence, a man superior in intellect is usually superior in the
capacity for energetic feeling and effective decisions. If there be a marked
disproportion between any one and the others, we observe it as irregular
and unnatural.
Any such irregularity is sure to be manifest, and often to be strikingly conspicuous in the
development of the powers, from the weakness and limitations of infancy up to the energy and
comprehensiveness of adult years. The soul with a structure strikingly abnormal, cannot
attain a healthy and shapely growth. Any striking predominance of the intellectual over the
emotional powers, or any defect in energy of will, either prevents an even progress, or induces
premature feebleness or a dwarfish stature.
§ 32. This law needs to be observed in the artificial develop-
Kelation of fac- _ , ., ., f _ _ _. . ,. , _
uities in educa- ment oi the sou], by special methods of discipline or plans of
education. The whole soul must be educated in the harmony
of its powers, or it cannot be successfully educated in any single one. The
intellect cannot be trained to superior activity or successful achievement
except as the feelings are stimulated to a strong interest for the objects to
which the intellect is applied, or the ends for which it acts. The will
must be taught to concentrate and hold the energies, and to direct them to
harmonious and successful activity. We cannot, if we will, train a single
power alone. When we seem to bestow all our power upon one only — as
the intellect — in the education of ourselves or of others, we are always, in
fact, acting upon the whole soul, in exciting new habits or kindling new
aspirations.
§ 33. These truths are not only of great practical importance,
illustrate^ the ]}Ut they need always to be kept in mind in psychological
investigations, because they so strikingly illustrate the or-
ganic unity and the eminent individuality of the soul.
We need ever to be mindful of this. Science seeks after resemblances, and thus is con
tinually impelled to overlook differences. Or, if science notices differences, it is the differences
by which species are distinguished, not those by which individuals are separated. With those
individual peculiarities which refuse to be classed with any other under some common concep-
tion, science disdains to concern itself. All objects in Nature have in some sense an individual
unity, which science cannot wholly master and overcome ; but the soul is more intensely and
eminently one and individual than any other. Its oneness, and hence its individuality, is the
most complete and conspicuous of that of any of the objects with which science has to do.
§33. THE FACULTIES OF THE SOUL. 47
We say a piece of iron, or any mere aggregate or mass, is
Unity-median- , ■ . . . , -,
icai, chemical, one, when its constituent particles or atoms are permanently
or°"£tnic
held together by adhesive attraction. The law of chemical
affinity makes two unlike substances into a third unlike either, which is
eminently one by the completeness of the interpenetration and combination,
But even bodies thus made one can be readily made two again through
mechanical division, without altering their nature or changing their func-
tions. It is not so with a plant or an animal, with a few apparent but
inconsiderable exceptions. A plant is one, so long as its several organs
act together, and the functions of each conspire with the functions of
every other to the common existence and the developed growth of the
whole. The unity of the plant consists in, or rather arises from, the action
of each of these organs with and upon every other, and the united action
of the whole through the integrity of an undivided structure. Let this
structure be once broken up, and usually the unity that is the life of the
whole is destroyed. Though the parts are again united, the plant is no
longer one / it is usually no longer a plant. The same is true, only more
strikingly and eminently, of the living animal. The animal ceases to be
one when its structure is divided, because the reciprocal action of its sev-
eral organs is thereby forever rendered impossible.
But the soul is one in a higher sense even than the plant and
Psychical unity ^he animal are one. It has, indeed, no material structure,
is higher. ...
the visible and tangible bond of its material organs, each
appropriate to one of its complex powers. But these faculties are depend-
ent on one another by a union so intimate, that the soul cannot act with
one except as it also acts with the others. It cannot grow in the capacity
or energy of one except as it grows in the energy of the others. One kind
of action is the essential condition of the other, whenever the soul mani-
fests its developed life. But above all, the soul, in all its conscious activ-
ity, refers these various forms of action, thus interdependent on each
other, to one central force. It knows its unity, in a large portion of its
direct experience. It is not more certain that it acts in various ways, each
intimately related to another, than it is that one person, the undivided and
self-conscious ego, acts in all these ways. This ego knows, in all its varie-
ties of cognition, and all the variety of objects which it can apprehend.
It also feels, as variously in the quality and intensity of this kind of sub-
jective experience as its subjective and objective conditions allow. But
it is by its actings in choice, or as the will, that its individuality is pre-
eminently known to itself and by itself to be one, not only as it is en-
dowed by nature with a separate individuality, but as it makes itself to be
( what it is by its individual acts.
It is true that each soul is like every other soul in those powers by which it is human. It
is unlike every other, not only in the proportion of the faculties and attainments which are
comparable to those minuter shadings of form and properties in tEe individual plant or animal,
48 INTRODUCTION. § 34.
which are beyond the reach of the classifying power, but also in the conscious and necessary
reference of every action to the individual ego. It is preeminently one, as by its own self-
activity it gives to each act of its voluntary and rational life a direction and energy which it
shares with no other being and no other act of its own being. It was contended by Leibnitz,
and with much show of reason, that of the myriads of millions of leaves in a forest, no two
are exactly alike. We know that among the millions of human faces, each has individual
peculiarities, a oneness that is eminently its own. But of all the human souls that are or
shall be, each, though allied to every other by a common human nature, and obeying common
human laws, has yet that individual oneness which is received from nature, which is the prod-
uct of its circumstances, and, more than all, which is originated and sustained by its own indi-
vidual energy.
§ 34. But though the soul in these respects is peculiarly and
exclude com- preeminently one, it is not thereby single in the sense of
excluding a complex organization. Rather do its unity and
individuality depend upon and require a complex organism of faculties
and powers. We observe that, in all organisms, the more complicated is
the structure, the more numerous the powers, and the more intimate
their interdependence, the more conspicuous is the individuality. Just in
proportion as the structure is complex in its organs and in the variety of
its possible functions, just in that proportion is there the possibility of an
unshared individuality, by means of the greater number of particulars
in which no other single being can be like this one.
The complexity of the soul is exemplified in the known variety of its observed modes of
action, in the manifold conditions and objects to which it is known to be adapted, in the
posssible variety of others for which it has latent and unused capacities, and in the conspicu-
ous variety that is attained by different individuals, as the result of differing developments and
various culture. The soul is complex in its attributes and organization, as shown in the variety
of the functions of which we are directly conscious ; it is also capable of all the activities which
are required by its connections with the living body, as it both sustains its life and develop-
ment, and receives from it all the excitements and impressions which, known and unknown,
are the conditions and attendants of its appropriately spiritual states. Its complex nature is
further manifested in its capacity to cognize and be interested in so vast a variety of objects
in nature and in all living beings, both those above and below and equal to itself. Not
only has the soul capacities for those objects which are fitted to its original endowments,
but these endowments, when further developed, seem to become like new capacities, and
these are set over against their own special objects. Indeed, the very capacity for the mani-
fold development of and increase in the power and range of an original endowment, is itself
a striking proof that within every soul lie, as it were, unborn powers, which themselves contain
the germs of other powers capable of being in their turn developed. The capacity for that
great number of acquired energies, habits, and tastes which often become more than a second
nature, itself argues a complex organism. If we consider the soul as capable of existing in
r.ew conditions of being, and as endowed with powers appropriate to such conditions that
a~e as yet inactive and unsuspected, we must enlarge still more widely our conception of its
complex structure.
But the more largely complex the soul is in the wealth of its known
and its yet unrevealed endowments, the more strikingly is its unity illus-
trated in the working of these endowments with one another to the pro-
§ 35. THE FACULTIES OF THE SOUL. 49
gressive development and increasing power of a single living being. But
its unity is most conspicuous in the circumstance, that the being refers
this increase of knowledge, skill, and moral capacity to itself, through its
conscious knowing, feeling, and choosing. The dignity of the soul is
shown by its varied adaptations to the universe of matter, life, and mind,
and by its capacity to respond to and interpret this complex universe by its
answering powers, and most of all, in that it can distinguish itself, as the
one agent and patient, from all which it observes and cares for.
§ 35. The powers of this complex yet individual soul with
TouTtLeefoid!16 which our science is concerned, are those only which are
manifested in or through its conscious acts or states. All
the other powers are left unconsidered, except so far as they incidentally
relate to these conscious exercises or experiences. Our conscious acts or
states are separated into the three broad and general divisions of states
of knowledge, states of feeling, and states of will. To know, to feel, and
to choose, are the most obviously distinguishable states of the soul. These
are referred to three powers or faculties, which are designated as the
intellect, the sensibility, and the will.
This threefold division of the powers of the conscious ego is now universally adopted by
History of the those who accept any division or doctrine of faculties. It has taken the place of the
division into fac- twofold division which formerly prevailed, into the understanding and the will ; accord-
ulties. ing to which the sensibility, or the soul's capacity for emotion, was included under
the will, and the affections, as they were usually called, were regarded aa phenomena
of the will.
Aristotle divided the powers of the soul into the vegetative, the perceptive (including the phantasy),
the locomotive, the impulsive or orectic (including the affectional and emotional), and the noetic. All these,
except the noetic, are shared by the brutes. The N0D5 was divine, perhaps preexistent and imperishable.
Cf. De Gen., et Cor. ii. 3 ; De An. iii. 5. The distinction of body, soul, and spirit, as we have already
noticed, was nearly coincident with this, though more general, and recognized under the TLvev^a special re-
lations to the Divine Spirit. The schoolmen retained this division, and distinguished three classes of
souls, as follows : the vegetative, of plants, the vegetative and perceptive, of animals, the vegetative,
perceptive and rational, of man. The two last have in common the impulsive and locomotive.
The moderns, throwing out of their classification the powers not apprehended in consciousness,
reduced the remainder to two : the intellectual and impulsive, or the powers of the understanding and the
powers of the will. This classification was a long time current.
Aristotle had recognized under the orectic, or impulsive powers— the powers of the will, which we have
noticed — a threefold subdivision : im-Ov^ia, 0v/xo?, jSovAijo-t?. Theologians had for a long period distinguished
the affections and the will, and zealously discussed the relations of the one to the other. Locke carefully and
earnestly distinguished will from desire, without, however, proposing a threefold division of the powers.
(Essay, B. II. c. 21. §§ 6, 30, 31.) Reid does substantially the same, inasmuch as he retains the received
division in its accepted import in his Intellectual Powers, Essay I., c. 7 ; but in his Active Potters, Essay
II., c's. 1 and 2, he limits the will to the capacity to determine or choose, excluding from it the capacity for
both emotion and desire. Dugald Stewart {Active and Moral Powers), following Eeid, adopted a threefold
classification without the formal nomenclature. But Dr. Thomas Brown goes backward from all, distinctly
asserting that the will is a modification of desire, and a volition is only the strongest or prevailing desire.
Lectures, &c. Kant subdivided the impulsive and orectic into two, viz., feeling and desire. Kritik d.
Urtheils-Krqft, Einleitung and Anthropologic Prof. T. C Upham distinguished the power of the soul
formally, as intellect, sensibility, and will.
Hamilton divided the powers of the soul into the faculties of knowledge, capacities of feeling and
powers of conation— i. e., of desire and will. Desire and will he distinguished respectively as a blind or
fatal, and a free or deliberate tendency to act. Met. Led. XI.
Among modern writers, Herbart and his school have made themselves conspicuous by
Modern oppo- rejecting the doctrine of faculties of the soul in general, and of the intellect in particu-
fteSi lar, as inconsistent with the essential unity of the soul, and as self-contradictory in both
conception and statement. But Herbart insists most earnestly that the soul possesses a
4
50 INTRODUCTION. § 36.
capacity for self-assertion, and that these self-assertions vary both in Mad and degree with the conditions
which call them forth. His doctrine is not unlike that of Leibnitz respecting monads of all classes, and
preeminently of the conscious monads, that they represent or reflect all other objects, and that in this indi-
vidual capacity lies their individual being. But diverse capacities for these varying self-assertions, or, in
modern terminology, for 'reactions,' involves all that is essential, and we may add, all that is objected to
in the doctrine of ' faculties ; ' the one being no more incompatible with the soul's unity than is the other.
Herbart, moreover, affirms of the ideas—' Vorstellungen '—all that he denies to faculties, giving them
the power to act and react on each other in such a variety of ways, and with independent energies, as to
explain all the varying psychical phenomena. "While he contends most earnestly that the soul is one— a
monad without relations to space— he makes it the arena, literally the ' show-place,' of all manner of active
and antagonistic agents, which are evolved from its own being by the objects that excite them.
The associational and cerebral psychologists reject the doctrine of faculties as commonly received, and
resolve all the operations and products of the soul into the single power of association between its ideas,
this being in their view the single function either of the soul or its ideas, and that into which all its re-
maining powers and activities may be resolved. See the account given of these systems, §§ 41, 43.
For Herbart's doctrine of the faculties, see his Psychologie als Wissenschaft, Konigsberg, 1824 ; also
J. D. Morell, Introduction to Mental Philosophy, Lond., 1862. See also A. Bain, The Senses and the Intel-
lect, Lond., 1855. Against Herbart, see Lotze, Mikrokosmus, vol. i., B. ii., c. 2, Leipzig, 1856.
§ 36. We call these endowments of the soul, powers, facul-
Spicily. faculty' ties-> capacities, with some difference of meaning and applica-
tion for each.
The word poioer is applied to the active properties of material objects,
as well as to those which pertain to spirit. Originally, it was employed by
Aristotle in contradistinction to act. Hence, power and action are always
contrasted, and beings are always contemplated by him as cv Swdfia and
iv Ivepyia. Force is quite as frequently used as power of material objects
and agents, and in the collective sense the forces of nature are more fre-
quently spoken of than its powers. When power is applied to the soul,
it is used in a larger signification than faculty ; for by it we designate tho
capacities which are acquired, as well as those which are original. All
men are said to be endowed with the faculty of memory. A few are said
to have, or to have attained to, the power of remembering with surprising
reach and accuracy. All men have the faculty of sense-perception, but
seamen gain the power of seeing objects at a very great distance.
Faculty is properly limited to the endowments which are natural to
man and universal with the race. We also limit the term by a sense of
natural propriety to those endowments which are especially spiritual, and
which manifest the independent and higher energy of the soul.
Capacity signifies greater passiveness or recej:>tivity than either of the
others. Hence it is more usually applied to that in the soul by which it does
or can suffer, or to dormant and inert possibilities to be aroused to exertions
of strength or skill, or to make striking advances through education andhabit.
It is to be observed, however, that in common life, and even in philosophy, vre do not
invariably use these terms with a technical precision or with uniform and invariable con-
sistency. Thus we speak usually of the intellectual faculty, or the intellectual faculties —
rarely, if ever, of the emotional faculty, or the faculty of feeling, or the voluntary faculty, or
faculty of will. We almost invariably speak of the intellectual faculty or faculties, of the
capacities for feeling, and of the powers or the power of will. The connection in each of
these phrases explains the reason why each term is preferred, and suggests the shade of mean-
iug which is appropriate to each.
§ 38. IS PSYCHOLOGY A SCIENCE ? 51
§ 37. The normal operations of each of these faculties are
^omS^6' called its functions. The term is taken from the action of
the bodily organs. From these it is transferred to organs in
the metaphorical sense, as the c organs of government,' and the ' functions
which they perform. In both these applications it has come to mean,
first, the appropriate operations of each, and then the activities to which
they are appointed, set apart, or destined. This signification is promi
nent in the use of the term when it is applied to the activities of the
powers of the soul. In this use it is assumed that there are activities for
which the soul is designed — modes of operation which are destined for, or
conduce to, the end of its being. Hence the normal or regular activities
of these powers are called functions.
States of the soul are often spoken of. The phrase has passed into
current if not into technical use. Strictly interpreted, it would designate
the more permanent or enduring, as contrasted with the more transient
phenomena. It has come, however, to mean any condition of the soul
whatever, whether regarded as act or product, whether as the producing
act or the produced effect.
Phenomenon is used as properly of spiritual as of material beings or
agents. Literally, it means that which appears to, or is known directly by
the senses : next in order that which is known as a fact by the mind. In
science, it signifies more precisely that which is known aS a fact, in dis-
tinction from its explanation by a force, principle, or law. Whether this
explanation has or has not yet been furnished, makes no difference. What-
ever is or is not yet explained, when viewed solely as a fact, is called a
phenomenon.
The English word appearance carries with it the meaning, or at least the suggestion, of
unreality. It often means and is understood as a mere appearance, a possible illusion. No
such signification belongs to phenomenon, and hence the term phenomenon has become estab-
lished in psychical as well as in material science as a technical term with a determinate
meaning. *
IV.
is psychology a science ? — Can there be a Science of the Human
Soul f and what are its Principles and Methods f
In the preceding chapters we have impliedly answered these questions. In the subsequent
examination of consciousness they will be discussed more fully, and the nature and
authority of psychological science will be more completely described and explained.
Cf. §§ 89-95. It seems desirable, however, that a condensed and formal statement of
the nature and possibility of such a science should be presented, at the beginning of our
inquiries, in connection with the various counter-theories.
§ 38. Our own theory may be briefly stated, thus : The facts
choiogy ; an in- or materials with which psychology has to do are derived
ductive science. x J °!1 ... . _^
from two sources — consciousness and sense-perception. Con
52 INTRODUCTION. §38
sciousness is the source from which these materials are directly derived,
and it is the facts of consciousness which psychology primarily and almost
exclusively seeks to arrange in a scientific method, and to explain by scien-
tific principles. But, indirectly, sense-perception comes to the aid and
support of consciousness, as physiology furnishes that knowledge of the
functions and states of the body which prepare the objects of the sense-
perceptions, and are the essential conditions of the development and the
activity of the soul. The facts of this class are attested by the senses and
interpreted by induction, and are in all respects subject to the laws and
methods of the other sciences of matter. Both these classes of facts must
be considered in conjunction, must be observed with attention, must be
analyzed into their ultimate elements, must be compared, classed, and
interpreted according to the methods which are common to it and the
other inductive sciences.
T r &. .So far it would seem that psychology is as truly an inductive
Is 81S0 til 6 SCI-
ence of indue- science as are the sciences of any other existences or classes
tion. . ....
of beings. It is distinguished from them by two striking
peculiarities. The first of these is, that its subject-matter is attested by
consciousness to be sui generis, consisting of phenomena which cannot be.
resolved into material entities or agents, and cannot always be subjected
to or judged by analogies furnished by material agents, phenomena, 01
laws. The second peculiarity is, that this subject-matter is in part the
function of knowledge itself, being the very agency by which all scientifio
knowledge is effected, the knowledge of matter as well as the knowledge
of the mind. This function, psychology must examine, not only in its
various processes, and their relations to one another, but in its products,
and their mutual dependence and relative authority (§ 57). This involves
the analysis of the products themselves into their constituents, whether
these constituents are gathered from experience, or are necessarily involved
in the act of knowledge itself, and therefore derived from the nature
of the soul as a knowing agent, and dependent upon it as their authority.
By this peculiar feature, the science of the human soul becomes the scien-
tific study of the principles and laws of all knowledge, and of each one of
the sciences, and thus leads to the prima philosophia. In every other
feature except this, psychology takes rank with the other inductive sci-
ences, and is coordinate with them in its subjection to a common method.
But by this last feature it becomes in a sense the arbiter of them all, as it
tries and tests the methods and principles common to them all, itself
included. While, then, psychology is an inductive science, with a peculiar
subject-matter to which it points us continually, and to the source from
which it is derived, as exempting it from the associations and preposses-
sions with which physical philosophy would invest it, it is not merely an
inductive science, but is, in a certain sense, the science of induction itself.
It c ertainly leads us to examine the fundamental principles of all the sci-
§40. IS PSYCHOLOGY A SCIENCE? 53
ences, by sh owing that such principles exist, and demand scrutiny and
verification.
These views are very generally received in respect to the nature of psychology as a sci.
gnce, and in answer to the question whether such a science is possible. The opinions of those
who dissent from them may be classed as follows :
§ 39. A very large number of persons deny that psychology can evef
Psychology too become a science, because of the vagueness and uncertainty of the subject-
vague ; not ma- . . ° .
thematical. matter. They insist with especial earnestness upon the point that it is
impossible to explain the processes of the soul by laws expressed in mathe
matical formulae. They affirm that we can never go beyond certain general and obvious
truths concerning the nature and activities of the human soul, because these activities are not
discernible by the senses, cannot be verified by experiment and accounted for, by what they
call scientific laws. Science, they allege, knows nothing of powers, either in matter or in
spirit. It does not concern itself with the constituents of things, or with the essential and
ultimate properties of matter or spirit. It has to do with phenomena only, and it seeks to
Jearn the order and laws of their occurrence by definite statements concerning their mathe-
matical relations. Force is measured by number ; so is the quantity of matter ; so are press-
ure, motion, attraction, and repulsion, in short, every thing with which science, as such, has
to do. The range of science proper, they contend, is limited within the domain where mathe-
matical relations apply, and cannot include the facts of psychology to any effective or valu-
able result.
To reply to this general position is here inappropriate. It is sufficient to say,
render a science that if this view of scientific knowledge should be accepted, it would exclude
ble life imp0SS1" the science of life in all its forms as truly as the science of the soul. It is
enough that it proves too much, and therefore cannot be true. Science does
inquire after the powers, the conditions, and causes of phenomena, as truly as it concerns
itself with the mathematical relations of either. Besides, it is always pertinent to observe,
that the power by which we are impelled to seek, and by which we attain scientific knowledge,
is the only authority for our confidence in science itself. To distrust the possibility of exact
and determinate knowledge of the conditions and laws of this power, is to distrust the author-
ity of science. If the soul, as the agent of science, cannot itself be known in its processes
and their results, then the processes have no value, and the products no binding force.
This general prejudice against the possibility of attaining precise conceptions of the
activities of the soul may be dismissed as the result of that ignorance which is intensified by
a partial knowledge. No man is so positive in his prejudices against that of which he knows
little, as the man who is master of a certain domain of knowledge, and therefore assumes to
measure and judge that which he does not, by that which he does fully know. The idola
theatri which Bacon, Nov. Org., B. L, §§ 44, 62-65, so clearly describes and so pointedly
condemns, have exerted their influence over no class of philosophers so conspicuously as over
the physicists of the present generation, in their judgments of the claims of psychology to be
regarded as a science:
§ 40. The materialists of every sort hold a very positive and consistent view
Views of mate- of our subject. They all contend that a science of the soul is possible and
rialists. rea^ because the substance of the soul is material, and its phenomena can
therefore all be explained by the laws and relations of matter. Their cardinal
axiom is: there is nothing substantially existent in the universe except what has extension and
sensible properties. The phenomena of the soul are therefore the manifestations or actings
of an existence of this kind, and can be resolved by scientific methods just so far as they can
be referred to changes in the constitution or the actings of this extended and material sub-
stratum. We pass over the grosser and cruder theories of the ancient schools, who resolved
the soul into some form of refined but unorganized matter, as now universally outgrown and
54 INTRODUCTION § 41 =
rejected : &ud notice only that form of modern materialism which passes current with so many
scientific men. This theory makes the brain and nervous system the proper substance of the
soul, and its phenomena to be explicable by the peculiar activity of this highly organized mate-
rial substance. It has this in common with the materialism of the grosser sort, that it holds it
to be impossible that there should be any agent of psychical phenomena except matter. The
fact that the matter is organized makes no difference with this assumption, except that it
smooths many of the difficulties and disarms many of the objections to which the cruder mate-
rialism was exposed.
Auguste Comte represents and describes this theory of psychological science in the following language :
" The positive theory of the intellectual and affective functions is therefore henceforth unchangeably re-
garded as consisting in the study, both rational and experimental, of the various phenomena of internal
sensibility, which are proper to the cerebral ganglia, apart from their external apparatus. It therefore is
only a simple prolongation of animal physiology properly so-called, when this is extended so as to include
the fundamental and ultimate attributes." ' In regarding it, however, as a simple subdivision of animal
physiology,' " we ought not to leave out of view the very close connection of this third sort of physiology
with animal physiology as it is usually understood, from which it differs far less than this last differs from
simple organic or vegetable physiology." Phil. Pos., Lect. 45, 3d vol., pp. 766-9.
Herbert Spencer, though not an avowed materialist in form, shows that he is, in fact, in that he teaches
that psychical action is only a more highly developed form of vital action, the capacity for which, in its
turn, has been developed from a lower form of being, viz. : the unorganized. His materialism becomes
conspicuous when he makes the & priori necessity under which he accepts necessary truths, to be itself the
product of a tendency first acquired by frequent association ; and then augmented into an inseparable con-
nection, which, being transmitted with increased force through many generations of material or cerebral
organisms, reappears at last in the form of a priori knowledge.
§ 41. The materialists of the present day are properly called Cerebral Psy-
The cerebralist chologists, and plant themselves on the more recent discoveries of physiology
theory. jn reSpect t0 the brain and the nervous system. These discoveries are those
of the reflex nervous action by the agency of the afferent and efferent nerves,
made by Sir Charles Bell : the discovery of the independent activity of the several systems of
nerves, made by Marshall Hall; of the capacity for increased nervous energy, and the flow of a
more effective nervous stimulus, which is induced by the repeated action of any organ, whether
internal or external, whether muscle or brain; of the change in the substance of the brain
attendant upon higher mental development — a change in bulk and complexity ; and, last of
all, the discovery of the provision for the consentient or consilient action of different organs
of the body, by the coordinating agency of the great nerve centres, which tendency can be
greatly augmented and modified by culture and habit. These physiological facts, combined
with the doctrine of the association of ideas, which is resolved by many into the physical coac-
tion and coalescence of nerve movements and nerve cells, are the data or materials out of
which the Cerebral Psychologists construct their science of the human soul. Some ccrebralists
venture to avail themselves of the as yet partially established doctrine of the correlation of
physical forces, in support of the conclusion that mind, or soul-energy, is but the spiritual cor-
relate or metamorphose of so much brain or nervous energy. Many of these views are ably
represented in the works of Professor Alexander Bain, of Aberdeen, entitled TJie Senses and
the Intellect } and The Emotions and the Will, also, Mental, and Moral Science, etc.
The facts and phenomena recognized by the cerebralists are true and impor-
Their theory re- tant. The most of them should be recognized in anthropology, or the science
futcd. which treats of the relations of the soul to the body. We may even admit
that they all deserve to be considered among the conditions of the purely
psychical activities. But they are only the invariable antecedents or the essential conditions of
these phenomena, so long as the agent which performs them acts also with those which arc
purely corporeal or vital. There is no evidence that they produce these phenomena ; they do
not appear among the constituent elements of any psychical state or act ; they cannot be found
in them by analysis ; they do not explain in the least the original capacity to produce them ;
§42. IS PSYCHOLOGY A SCIENCE? 55
they do not account for the dependence of one of these classes of states upon another, as of
memory upon perception, or of reasoning upon both. These cerebral conditions might be sup
posed to exist, -without the occurrence of any of the phenomena in question, without perception,
memory, or reasoning. The nervous system might perform every one of its functions without
a single psychical result. Its direct and reflex action might occur in every possible form ; fre-
quent repetition might increase the flow of nervous energy in certain ' well-worn paths,' and
the parts excited might grow in size and strength ; new combinations of nerve cells might
secure growth to the brain, both in mass and complexity, without the occurrence of a single
act of perception, memory, reasoning, or mental association, or without any kind of psychical
growth or mental development — in short, without the occurrence of a single one of the phe-
nomena which these causes are supposed to explain, and of which they are supposed to be the
scientific equivalents.
Moreover, these professed explanations have neither meaning nor application
They suppose except as they suppose the mind already to possess a knowledge of psychical
consciousness. phenomena as known by consciousness, and as connected by certain scientific
relations which are purely psychical in their origin and authority. The cere-
bralist talks, like every other man, of perceiving, of being conscious, of remembering, of
induction, and of reasoning, as though he understood himself, and expects to be understood by
others. He proposes, as problems to be explained, these phenomena as dependent on and con-
nected with one another in the experience of human consciousness. Of these facts of con-
sciousness he continually avails himself, to give meaning and significance to his cerebral analy-
sis. In short, he supposes a science of the mind's inner experiences which he proposes to sup-
plement by facts or laws of sense-observation, using the facts to be explained to interpret the
facts which explain them. Should he attempt to use the nomenclature of his own science in
place of that given by the science founded on consciousness, he would fail to be understood.
The one. cannot be a substitute or an equivalent for the other. The excitement of a nervous
organism does not and never can be made to signify the same thing, as to feel, to know, or to
will ; its excitement a second time can never be the equivalent of to imagine, or to remem-
ber ; the partial excitement of many nerves or nerve-products, limiting or helping one another,
can never signify, to reason. Indeed, the very phrase cerebral psychology seems to be self-
contradictory and self-destructive. Cerebral can relate only to the brain. Psychology would
intimate that there is a soul which is other than the brain. Should the cerebralist reply, that
the appellation is none of his own choosing, it might still be said in answer, that, by whatever
name it is known, cerebralism professes to be a science of the brain and its functions, both
vital and psychical. But a science, supposes a knowing agent, and a knowing agent is some-
thing other than a throbbing brain ; and to know even the functions of the brain, especially
after a scientific method, must surely be something more than for the brain to exercise a func-
tion in respect to itself and its own functions. Such a conception is more incredible and
inconceivable than the conception, which is so often stigmatized, of the soul as conscious of its
own operations. A soul that is self-conscious is not so singular as a brain functionizing about
itself and its own being. No definition of self-consciousness given by the metaphysicians can
compare in absurdity with that which the cerebralist is compelled by the terms of his system
to give of the knowledge which is the subject-matter of his own science.
§ 42. The so-called phrenologists constitute a distinct branch of the cerebral
The phrenologi- school, if, indeed, their doctrines have not been superseded by the more exact
and comprehensive knowledge of the brain, on which the cerebralists build.
To the claims of the phrenologists to have established a science of the soul,
the following objections may be urged : 1. They have not proved that the protuberances of
the brain, or the cranium, on which their science is founded, correspond to the psychical
powers or functions which it is claimed they decisively indicate. 2. The classification of these
very psychical powers which they adopt is illogical, inasmuch as it is chargeable with not a
f>6 INTRODUCTION. § 43
few cross divisions. 3. The classifications and arrangements of the whole science rest for then
verification on the knowledge of the soul which is given by consciousness. It requires this
knowledge to supplement its observations of the cranium. It is this knowledge which fur.
nishes all the facts which are to be explained, and is the test of the correctness of the classifi-
cations. Were phrenology established, it would not be a science of its own facts : it would
serve only as a guide in the use of certain external indications as explaining the psychical
characteristics of individuals.
The question may properly be raised at this point, whether the brain is not
In what sense is the organ of the soul, and whether the cerebralists are not justified in treating
the brain the . b . __ , ' ,.«- .
soul's organ ? it as such. We reply, that there is an important difference between asserting
that the brain is the substance of which psychical processes are the functions,
and the very general statement that the brain is the organ of the soul. This, when properly
explicated, would seem of itself to imply that the brain is one substance and the soul is
another, each having proper features and functions of its own. To say that the soul, so long
as it exists with its present corporeal environments, uses and depends upon the brain as its
organ of communication with the material world, and sympathizes with the physical condition
of the brain in its capacity to act with effect, is to say no more than the truth. This depend-
ence and sympathy may hereafter be established in a multitude of particulars which have not
yet been discovered. The brain might itself be subdivided into special organs, and for each
of these a separate and as yet unknown function might be ascertained. The relations of these
organs and their functions to the powers and acts of the soul might be traced out with sur-
prising minuteness, and still the brain would be no more nearly proved to be identical with
the soul itself.
§ 43. The Associational Psychology represents still another theory of the
The Association- science of the soul. It is founded, as its name imports, upon the fact or law
ahst theory. recognized by all psychologists, that the ideas or acts of the soul that are
often united tend to recall one another more readily. This law is applied by
this school to take the place of every other law or condition of psychical activity, and to
exclude every other power or capacity. It is made to stand in the place of the so-called facul-
ties, and even to explain the origin of all necessary and intuitive truths. The school numbers
many adherents, among whom are conspicuous Hobbes, Hume, Hartley, Bonnet, James Mill,
John Stuart Mill, Bain, and Herbert Spencer. Some of these are more consistent and ex-
treme in their conclusions than others, but all may be fairly said to adopt the associationalist
theory in its principal features. These common features are the following. They hold,
1. That a psychical state is analogous to a change or effect in a material object as being a sim-
ple impression, or changed condition which is simple — not complex, as is claimed by those
who find in every such state a conscious relation to the ego. They hold, also, that it is neces-
sarily produced by its cause, condition, or object. They deny, distinctly or impliedly, the
truth that every state of the soul must be performed by the conscious ego, and that in many
of these states this ego is consciously active, and in no sense passive. 2. They teach that every
such state thus necessarily produced and passively experienced, tends to be reproduced with
its attendants. 3. A reproduced state, unless in some way reinforced, as by similar conditions,
of itself tends to be and is reproduced with an energy that is weaker than that of the original.
(Cf. Hume, Bain, and Spencer.) 4. If it is often reproduced and is reinforced in every act, its
energy is greatly increased. This increased energy is manifested subjectively by its stronger
tendency to recur again, and the greater vividness with which the object is presented to the
mind. Herbert Spencer has given great prominence to this doctrine in the special application
which he makes of the repetition of acts of which we are at first distinctly and perhaps pain-
fully conscious, and which we learn to perform with an almost mechanical readiness. He
insists that the facility thus acquired becomes literally mechanical, and that the acts in ques-
tion pass entirely out of the domain of consciousness, and are taken up by the passive energies,
§43. IS PSYCHOLOGY A SCIENCE? 51
first of the associational faculty, and then of the brain and nerve-cells. In this way the}
become the material for propagation, through transformations of the nervous substance which
are transmitted from one generation to another. A few physiologists who are not of this school
account for the phenomena in question by what they call processes of ' unconscious cere*
bration.' Every activity of the mind not occasioned by some new or original material impres-
sion, is the action or product of this tendency to recurrent action, either weakened or strength-
ened in whole or in part. Imagination is a weakened impression. An act of memory is a
somewhat stronger and recurring activity, bringing up a more perfect reproduction of the past*
Generalization is a more vigorous revival of some part of many original impressions, which
is capable of being suggested by each of these originals or their parts, and made common to
them all. Judgment and induction are similar experiences of partial elements of more widely
ramified impressions. All these processes are reduced to the more vivid experiences which
result from many similar impressions ; never to the discernment and affirmation of similarity in
the parts of each of the objects to which they belong. Similarity itself, as the ground and
motive to the classification and interpretation of nature, is only the result of two or more pas-
sive impressions, and never an intelligent cognition or judgment. It is not an objective fact of
relation knowable by the intellect, but a subjective sensation or impression more or less fre-
quently recurring.
The belief of necessary truths or fundamental relations, is the result of the
Explanation of frequent conjunction of similar experiences made inseparable by repetition,
necessary truths. ^hus, t^e reiation of causation is resolved by Hume into the customary connec-
tion of ideas or objects. Thus, J. Stuart Mill resolves the belief in any neces-
sary ti aths, even the simplest mathematical postulates or axioms, into " inseparable associa-
tion," and gravely suggests that their opposites would be and appear just as axiomatic to a
community differently trained. Thus, Herbert Spencer, in his Principles of Psychology,
resolves our d priori convictions concerning the reality of space and time, and the relations
which they involve (for the necessity of which, as realities, he contends, against Kant and
Hamilton), into the invariable conjunctions which first created a persistent tendency to recur-
rence, which tendency was fixed and confirmed forever by being propagated through countless
generations of human beings till the inseparable association turns out to be a necessary and
d priori truth, of which it is impossible even to conceive the negative.
It is necessarily implied in this theory that it dispenses with what it calls the scholastic
doctrine of separate faculties of the soul. This, indeed, is its pride and boast, that it makes
these several faculties to be but varied forms of the single tendency or law of association.
The fundamental defect, the irp&rov ^eOSoy, of the associational school, con-
Error of the as>- sists in this, that it does not distinguish between those activities of the soul by
sociationahsts. which, so to speak, objects are prepared for and presented to the soul for its
varied activities, preeminently that of knowledge, and the activity which the
soul performs with respect to them when so prepared and presented. An impression on the
sensorium, even when responded to by reflex nervous activity, is not the act of knowledge by
which the mind distinguishes the object from itself and from other objects ; nor does the tendency
thereby created to its repetition explain the act of imagination or memory with respect to it
when represented a second time. A similar impression, in whole or in part, is a very different
thing from that apprehension of a whole or part as similar which is essential to generalization
and reasoning as acts of knowledge. The constant conjunction of two ideas, as a consequent of
which the one will always suggest the other, does not explain the relation under which the mind
connects them in an act of judgment ; least of all the relation by which it joins them in those
beliefs which are necessary and intuitive, as are those which concern the relations of space,
time, causation, and design.
It is worthy of notice, that though the associational school is plausibly successful in its
explanations of the lower activities and products of the intellect (chiefly, however, because
58 introduction. § 43,
philosophers as well as critics overlook the intellectual element which belongs to them), they
fail most signally in explaining the higher operations. J. S. Mill supplements the functions of
the associational power in his theory of reasoning and induction by resorting to an ' expectation
concerning the uniformity of nature,' which neither association nor induction can account for.
Bain resorts to the emotional nature to explain belief, and Herbert Spencer must fall back
upon the growth of two nerve-cells into one, propagated indefinitely through successive genera-
tions, to account for d priori and necessary beliefs.
The associational school can only explain the higher processes and products of 'the mind
by explaining them away — by making them, under the pressure of its theory, to become some-
thing else than what they are. Its theories and explanations are plausible, because the single
principle on which they rest is so nearly allied to the pervasive law of attraction, which is so
potent in mechanical and chemical philosophy. The extensive and ready favor with which they
are received as the only truly scientific theory of the mind, is but a single example of the power
of materialistic analogies and prepossessions in the judgment of spiritual facts and relations.
The associational theory, though in its fundamental principle not necessarily
Usually Mate- materialistic, has been uniformly received by the cerebralists, especially by the
cerebralists of the modem school. The doctrine that every mental process is
the result of the association and blending of ideas, when united with a principle
which explains association by the conjunction of nerve-cells into nerve-growths, and the consili-
ence of nerve activities by the increased energy of nervous stimuli, commends itself as demonstra-
ble, reasonable, and true to all those who find in the movements and growths of the brain the sci-
entific explanation of psychical processes. Bonnet, Hartley, Bain, and Herbert Spencer im-
pliedly* are eminent examples of the union of both cerebralism and associationalism in the same
scientific theory.
That the associational psychology is not necessarily materialistic, is proved
Theory of Her- by the theory of John Frederic Herbart concerning the science of the mind.
b Herbart is at once a most decided, and, it might be said, an extreme and even
bigoted spiritualist, and also as extreme an associationalist, in the consistent
and thoroughgoing use which he makes of the law of association. No psychologist of ancient
or*modern times is so earnest in his polemic against the faculties of the soul, none so subtle in
his attempt to resolve all psychical phenomena whatever, by the positive and relative tension
of ideas, whether present or absent ; i. c, whether striving to retain or to regain their footing
within the bounds or over the threshold of consciousness. Most of all, none is so daring and
persistent in the effort to give expression to these forces of ideas by mathematical formula?.
His mental static and dynamic — i. e., the static and dynamic of ideas — are all computed and
expressed by mathematical formula?. Herbart, though an extreme spiritualist, is as eminent
an associationalist.
The principal features of Ilerbart's psychological theory, stated without the metaphysical doctrines
from which they are partially supplemented and derived, arc the following. The soul is not only spiritual,
hut simple ; so simple, that it cannot he conceived of as endowed with diverse powers, or as capable of any
internal actions, reactions, or developments. As spiritual it can hold no relations to space. It is simply
capable of a persistency of independent life, which leads it to resist any disturbance or action from with-
out by a series of reactions which vary according to the objects from without which provoke them.
These reactions of the soul are ideas. The force with which they are produced is, or involves, a tendency
to maintain their being. As the mind is disturbed and impinged by many objects, so the number of its
reactions or tendencies to reactions, is very great, and hence the soul becomes an arena for the actions and
interactions of these ideas, dormant or revealed. Of these reactions, the similar aid and the dissimilar
hinder one another. Precisely here, comes into play the associational psychology, involving many of the
inferences to which it is applied by its advocates belonging to other metaphysical schools. The doctrine
of faculties is rejected. The conceptions of time and space as psychological products, arc the resultants oi
many past images arranged around the present experiences as central nuclei, according to tin ir various
degrees of vividness and faintness in a line or a superficies, the vividness and faintness being determined
by the helps and hindrances of other states. The ego of self-consciousness is simply a complex of past
mental experiences as recalled by memory or pictured on the imagination, that is, as helped or hindered,
§45. IS PSYCHOLOGY A SCIENCE? 59
more or less, by the parts and wholes of other states, and somehow made an object to a present menta.
state. The self is a congeries of these remembered products of the mind's past activity, regarded as th«
manifestation and measure of the soul's energy and character. ' Judgment and reasoning are accounted for
as by the English associationalists, except that Herbart draws on his logic and metaphysics as independent
authorities to help out and correct his psychology, instead of developing, after the manner of the English,
his logic and metaphysics from his psychological analyses. Psychologically, Herbart is an associationalist
in the principles of his system. His system is in part adopted by J. D. Morell, in his Introduction to
Menial Philosophy. London, 1862.
§ 44. The Metaphysical, or, as it is called by some, the Constructive theory of
Metaphysical or the science, remains to be noticed. This assumes that psychology can become
d prion Psycho- ' . . , , . • . , . . „ „ , .
logy. a science only as it is expounded in the spirit of a system of speculative
philosophy which is first assumed or proved to be true, and which must be
established as true, before the study of the mind can be made truly scientific, or even before
it can begin. There is a truth in the assumption, that every special science is only so far
scientific as it rests upon true metaphysics. But there is an important difference between
the correct and adjusted statement of this underlying philosophy in a perfected system, and
the recognition of these truths in their concrete applications without the aid of such a system.
If the metaphysics are valid and true to nature, they must be followed in the main even by
the man who has not formulated their principles into an abstract system. One cannot easily
deviate from them if he is earnest in his desire for truth. There is also an important difference
between the teacher or student who is so fixed in the conviction d priori that his philosophy
is true, as to be incapable of observing or doing justice to those facts which are not required
or supported by it, and the one who considers and records facts as he finds them, whether
they do or do not square with his philosophy. In psychological studies the temptation is par-
ticularly strong to view the facts in the light of some preconceived and half-learned philoso-
phy ; but it ought for this very reason to be more vigorously resisted. It im|n the order of
nature that the study of metaphysics should follow after the study of the mind^ inasmuch as it
is in the analysis of the power to know, that we are supposed first to discover what it is to
know, and especially what are the objects and relations which are essential to science ; in other
words, what conceptions and relations are philosophically valid as the axioms and postulates
of scientific knowledge.
§ 45. The philosophers of the modern German schools are, as is well known,
Psychology of more distinguished as philosophers than as psychologists. The object of
schools. their inquiries has been too often to construct a consistent and plausible sys-
tem of metaphysical philosophy, rather than to discover or expound the pro-
cesses and the laws of the human soul as given in human consciousness. Their writings
abound in acute and valuable psychological observations of this kind, but they are generally
incidental to their main purpose. Kant, in his Critique of Pure Reason, has given an almost
complete system of psychology, but it is incidental to the discussion of his main inquiry, ' Are
synthetic judgments d priori possible ? ' One does not need to read Kant with extraordinary
care to be convinced that his psychology is constructed in the spirit of a preconceived theory,
and that, true to nature and fact as he was, he would have done far more for psychology had
he made it the chief object of his studies ; and yet Kant is more psychological than those of his
successors who are usually named as the coryphaei of German philosophy. Of all these writers
it is emphatically true that their attention has been given primarily to metaphysics, and only
indirectly to psychology. Their disciples have, in many cases, written upon psychology
proper, and the treatises of each are, as might be expected, composed in the spirit and service
of the philosophy of his master. Hegel is, perhaps, the only one who professes to have con-
structed a psychology as the legitimate outgrowth or logical product of his metaphysical
system, and the results should serve as a decisive warning against imitation. In this system,
the existence, the nature, the powers, the operations, and the products of the soul are all set
forth chiefly so as to illustrate the great principle of his metaphysical system, viz., the develop
60 INTRODUCTION. § 45,
ment of the concept through the force of the necessary movement of thought into all tlie
forms of existence which the universe of matter and of spirit have attained. That is to say,
the soul is conceived to be just what it ought to be, according to the ideal of this logico-
metaphysical system. The proof that it is such, is found in the fact that it is rational for it
to be so, because this is provided in the dialectic process common to being and thought.
There is little necessity that there should be any consideration of facts or phenomena. In-
deed, facts are scarcely considered at all, but only the metaphysical relations of the psychical
powers and processes. These scientific or necessary relations are assumed to have been pre-
determined by the more comprehensive view which Philosophy had taken of the laws that gov-
ern the evolution of the universe. This being fixed, all else follows of course, by a necessity
which is both natural and logical, — the two in Hegel's system being identical.
So far as Hegel himself is concerned, or any other philosopher who assumes to have
attained so comprehensive a view of the system of the universe, it may be legitimate and
natural for him to derive from it the science of the soul by a strictly logical process. But
even his success would not compensate for the failure to notice and describe the psychical
facts which might still further confirm and illustrate the metaphysical system which claimed to
be universally applicable, and demonstrable from the nature of thought. If it be supposed
that these facts were completely at his command, and that they all harmonized with his funda-
mental philosophy, it cannot be assumed that they are equally familiar to the learner, or that
they are known by him adequately at all. As known by him and as learned by him, they
ought not at first to be set forth as illustrations of a philosophical system, or even as proofs
of its truth and consistency. They should be traced and learned in the cautious and pains-
taking way of induction, till they carried him up to the height of speculative observation
where the philosopher stands, and from which he constructs his psychology. The beginner in
psychology must begin with the elements, because out of these very elements he must evolve
the system whwh he may afterward use when he attempts to construct the soul by a synthetic
process. But he may not begin with the completed system itself, because in so doing he vio-
lates the psychological order of acquisition, which requires every one to go from the concrete
upward to the abstract, and to find for himself, under wise guidance, the general and remote,
in the concrete and the near.
To pursue the reversed order, is to weaken the certainty of knowledge, as well as to con-
fuse and embarrass the mind of the student. Such an error of method is certain to be
revenged on speculative philosophy itself. It opens the way for the most fantastical dogma-
tism on the part of the teacher ; for, as soon as he is emancipated from the necessity of justi-
fying his speculative system to the consciousness of his learners by the facts of inner expe-
rience, he will be tempted to be positive when he is not certain, and to be fantastic when he is
neither logical nor clear. It breeds haziness and pretension on the part of the student. In
attempting to follow a guide who deviates from the order of nature, his steps cease to be
confident and firm. The want of clear insight he will supply by pretension and conceit, which
are both parent and offspring of credulity and dependence.
No maxirn deserves to be recorded by the student of philosophy in letters more clear
and bright than this : * The man who seeks to enter the temple of Philosophy by any other
approach than the vestibule of psychology, can never penetrate into its inner sanctuary ; for
psychology alone leads to and evolves philosophical truth, even though it is itself subordinate
to philosophy. Moreover, he who attempts to construct psychology by the aid and under the
direction of a metaphysical system, contradicts the order by which both psychology and
philosophy are developed and acquired.'
THE HUMAN INTELLECT:
ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, and faculties
A PRELIMINARY CHAPTER.
We hare considered the soul as capable of various functions or operations, which are mani-
fested to consciousness as psychical facts or phenomena. "We have defined the intellect
to be the soul as endowed with and exercising the power to know. We now proceed to
make the intellect the special object of our study. In other words, we enter upon thafi
special division of psychology which is concerned with the capacities, operations, and
laws of the human intellect.
i
§ 46. The distinctive function of the intellect being to know,
Knowledge de- . . . r, _ _
fined, what is we at once inquire, ' What is it, lor the soul to know r
Consciousness has already taught us to observe ourselves in
the act of knowing, and to distinguish this condition from those which are
coordinate with it, viz., the states of feeling and willing. For this con-
scious experience there can be no substitute. No definition or description
can convey, to him who has never known, the conception of what an act of
knowledge is. All definitions and descriptions presuppose that the person
to whom they are addressed can understand their import and verify their
truth by referring to his own conscious acts. But we may not rest in this
general assent to the reality, nor in our general impressions of the nature
of knowledge. We require a more exact determination of its import and
relations.
The nearer and more attentive consideration of knowledge gives us
the following propositions :
1. To know, is an operation of the soul acting as the intel-
active^ojeritio? *ect — an °Peration m which it is preeminently active. In
knowing, we are not so much recipients as actors. We do
not merely submit to the impressions which are made upon the senses or
the mind from without. ISTor are we the passive subjects of the mechan-
ical operations of ideas already acquired, as they come and go by an inde-
pendent force and movement of their own, as they intrude, break upon or
elude the memory and fancy in seeming caprice or wantonness. We do
not generalize, reason, or believe, according as certain relations do or do
not choose to suggest themselves. But in all states of knowledge the sou]
62 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §46
itself energizes or acts, in the ways or methods which are provided for by
its original endowments.
2. The intellect exercises its capacity to know under certain
Snd¥tionds11Ilder conditions. Like every other agent in nature, iff is limited
in respect to the mode, energy, and results of its action, by
the occasions and circumstances under which it acts. As fire cannot burn
without fuel to consume, as water cannot wet without something to
moisten ; or better, as oxygen cannot produce an oxide without some base
with which to combine, so the intellect cannot know, unless there is some-
thing to be known.
Thus the intellect cannot perceive a color, a taste, a tree, a house, when these objects are
not presented to the mind, for it to act concerning or upon. So, too, it cannot remember,
unless an event has occurred which it may proceed to recall and recognize. Nor can it imagine
or believe, without certain materials or data with or from which, it creates or infers. While,
on the one hand, the intellect, in knowing, must act or operate upon, and in some sense
create, its products, it cannot produce results at its will, but it must be governed by the
objects which are furnished, as to what it knows and as to how it shall know them.
The conditions enumerated are objective only. There are also conditions which are sub-
jective, as the mind's capacity to know, which is always assumed ; its disposition for present
activity, its bodily conditions of health and reason ; also certain favoring circumstancls, as
absence of preoccupation; and, last of all, the direction and fixing of the attention to the so-
called objects.
These conditions 3. The objects which condition the acts of the intellect are
ver^ef0 Subject" diverse in their character. Some are presented from the
^te-objecS. ° " world without : such are the objects of sense, for the exist-
ence of which, their adaptation to the sentient organism, and their com-
ing within the range or reach of the power to know, the soul itself may
be in no way responsible. Others are presented from within, the soul
creating by its own activity the very objects, and the whole of the objects,
on which it exerts the activity of knowing : such are the operations of
the soul itself, in the various forms and the endless variety of the states
of knowledge, feeling, and will, all of which are apprehended, as objects,
by consciousness.
Other objects are the products or results of precedent acts or energies of the soul, as
objects of sense previously perceived and waiting to be remembered ; the so-called images and
pictures once present and seen, but now absent and unseen. There are also the conceptions or
notions which general terms represent and recall, and which language holds ready for the
intellect to understand and recognize: these are the contingent and necessary relations in
objects themselves, which must be supposed really to exist, in order to be known.
It is manifest from this enumeration that the word object is used in
two widely divergent senses — either as the external or material object,
the object-object, as it is often called, and which may be explained as tho
object eminently objective; and the subject-object, %. e., the mental object,
or the object created by the mind's own energy. The adjectives subjective
§47. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 63
and objective, also, follow the widest or most generic meaning of the word
object. Objective is applied to whatever the mind contemplates as an
object, whether it be a subject-object or an object-object. Every relation
which such an object holds is called objective. On the other hand, sub
jective is applied to the knowing mind, whether it is conceived as appre-
hending a subject-object or an object-object / a material object, as the exist-
ing moon, or the moon pictured by the mind for the mind's eye. Sub-
jective is also applied to all the psychical experiences and acts ; to the
feeling and willing, as well as the knowing soul.
8 47. 4. Inasmuch as we assume that the soul can create
The process "
which prepares objects for itself to know, as in the cases already referred to
objects ol knowl- ■'.-'_•-..*'
edge. of consciousness and memory, we ought carefully to distin-
guish all that activity of the soul by which objects are, so to speak, pre-
pared for the mind's cognition, from the activity consequent thereto, viz.,
the special activity of the intellect in knowing. For example, the energy
of the soul in what is called the association of ideas — by which, on occa-
sion of the presence of an object known, another object presents itself in
order to be known — is clearly distinguishable from the act of the intellect
in apprehending that object when presented. In like manner, all the ante-
cedent preparation by which material things are made ready to be known
through the agency of the spiritual element in the sensorium, is plainly
diverse, and ought to be distinguished from the act of the mind in per-
ceiving the object when thus made ready. The creative energy of the
itntellect in the construction of mathematical conceptions, as well as in the
'higher acts of invention and discovery, is a more interesting example of
this peculiar power.
These two kinds of -activity are so intimately connected, that they seem to be united and
to blend into one. They have not been distinguished so sharply as they ought to be. By
many writers they have not been separated at all in the analysis of knowledge. It is obvious,
however, when the act of knowing is precisely defined, that it is properly distinguished from this
work of preparation and the powers and operations which it involves. The advantage of thus
separating it will occur to every one who follows its applications, or who is conversant with the
too common want of precision in conceiving and defining the faculties and operations of the soul.
The consideration of these acts or processes suggests the possibility of many endowments in the soul,
which though psychical in their nature, are not fully open to consciousness. Of these there are two classes,
(1) those by which the soul cooperates with matter, i. e., living matter, in, so to speak, providing sense-
objects, and (2) those in which it acts by processes peculiarly psychical, as in the reproduction to imagina-
tion and memory of states or objects previously known. The first are sometimes called psycho-physical in
contrast with the psychical.
We observe also, that these acts or functions of preparation, are generally, not conscious acts, in the
sense in which the acts of knowledge are. Some of them may be wholly removed from consciousness, as is
the activity by which the soul preserves and suggests objects once known, while yet these very acts or
operations largely depend on the conscious operations. Some of these may be entirely removed from con-
sciousness, as the physiological or psycho-physical operations which conditionate sense-perception. Others
may be almost or apparently quite within the range of conscious observation, though performed with rapid
and spontaneous exertion.
They are all properly psychical acts, and are appropriately treated in connection with those activities
with which consciousness has to do. We cannot understand these activities without constant reference to
■ them.
64 THE HUMAN- INTELLECT. §48.
Let us then suppose that the conditions of an act of knowledge, both subjective, objective
and psychical, are all fulfilled. We are prepared to inquire what is involved in the act of
knowledge that supervenes.
To know, im- § 48, 5* ^° know, *s to ^e certain that something is. When
tySki?111" ^e conations of the act are present, the act occurs. In the
act of knowing it is involved that the mind should be cer-
tain that an object is. Knowledge aud being are correlative to one
another. There must be being, in order that there may be knowledge.
There may be being, it is true, which is not known by any created intellect,
but there can be no knowledge, which is not the knowledge of being. It
is of the very essence of knowledge that it apprehends or cognizes its
object to be. Subjectively viewed, to know, involves certainty ; objec-
tively, it requires reality. An act of knowing, in which there is no cer-
tainty in the agent, and no reality in the object, is impossible in conception
and in fact.
Here we must distinguish different kinds of objects and different kinds of
Beings or reali- reality. Objects may be psychical or material. They mav be formed bv the
ties differ in . . ,
their kind. mmd and exist for the mind that forms them, or they may exist in fact and
in space for all minds, and yet in each case they are equally objects. Their
reality may be mental and internal, or material and external, but in each case it is equally a
reality. The thought that darts into the fancy and is gone as soon, the illusion that crosses
the brain of the lunatic, the vision that frightens the ghost-seer, the spectrum which the
camera paints on the screen, the -reddened landscape seen through a colored lens, the yellow
objects which the jaundiced vision cannot avoid beholding, each as really exists as does the
matter of the solid earth or the eternal forces of the cosmical system.
The existence of one of these objects is not of the same kind with that of the other ;
their reality is not precisely the same, but they are equally existent objects, and, so far as
known, are known really to be.
It is true, one kind of existence and reality is not as important to us as is the other ; we
dignify one class as real, and call the other unreal. We make one kind of knowledge to indi-
cate another. We strive to look through the shows of fancy and the illusions of sense to the
reality of things. We call some of these objects realities, and others shadows and unreal ;
but, philosophically speaking, and so far as the act of knowledge is concerned, they are alike
real and are alike known to be.
The word being is sometimes contrasted with phenomenon. It is obvious that in that case
it is not used in the sense in which we have defined it ; i. e., as equivalent to a knowable
object. When used in such a contrast, we oppose real, permanant, or independent being, to
phenomenal, transient, or dependent being. Being, as we use it, is generic, admitting the two
species of real and phenomenal being, in the senses explained and contrasted.
We often err in making one kind of reality indicate another. We mistake one kind of
existence for another. We confound mental fancies with material things. We think an air-
drawn dagger will pierce us to the heart. We believe that the spirit which our distracted
phantasy conjures into being, has veritable flesh and bones. But mistakes like these, so far
from proving that what we know has no existence, demonstrate precisely the opposite. For
how could wc mistake one object for another, if the first object did not exist and were not
known to be ?
Wc do not err in not knowing something, but in mistaking it for something which it ia
not. We do not err as to that the being is, but as to what it is.. We do not err as to its
§49 ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 65
beingness or entity, but as to its relations. When being is used in this generic sense, truth and
error are only possible with respect to relations, as explained hereafter.
This point being established, we observe :
8 49. 6. In knowing, we apprehend not only that objects
Also the reality 8 . , , °1 . . . , J . .
of their reia- exist, but also that they exist m certain relations to other
objects, one or more. Hence it is essential to the definition
of knowledge not only that we know objects as existing, but that we
know them as related. We cannot know even two thought-objects as
being, without also knowing that the one is not the other. We cannot
notice two leaves, without knowing that they are alike or unlike in form,
surface, or color. We cannot observe two occurrences without referring
them to the same or different causes, etc., etc. The variety of relations is
too great to be enumerated here. We desire only to call attention to the
general truth, that a relation is discerned in every act of knowledge.
To this assertion several objections may arise. It may be admitted that we
discern relations in many acts of knowledge, but not in all. Least of all,
it may be contended, does it enter into the conception of knowledge that we
should know some relation. It may be urged that the logicians distinguish
simple-apprehension from judgment — simple-apprehension being defined as the cognition of
an object, and judgment as the pronouncing that one object is in some relation to another. To
this it is sufficient to say, that these same logicians usually distinguish the objects of simple-
apprehension into complex and incomplex, the one being one or many objects as apprehended
without, and the other the same as apprehended with, or in some relation ; showing by their
very definition that simple-apprehension sometimes admits relations.
It may be urged still further, that many psychologists have distinguished knowledge as
perception, consciousnesss, memory, and imagination, on the one hand, and as judgment or
thought on the other ; the first class of acts giving being of different kinds, or the matter of
knowledge, and the second class giving its forms or relations.
On the other hand the most acute and discerning have not failed to see and to confess
The truth ad- that judgment, even though it is distinguished from the lower kinds of knowledge, must
mitted directly accompany them all. Dr. Thomas Reid observes, " In persons come to years of under-
and indirectly. standing, judgment necessarily accompanies all sensation, perception by the senses, con-
sciousness and memory, but not conception." This denial of judgment to conception
[the simple-apprehension of the logician-] is qualified by Sir William Hamilton in a foot-note, thus : " In so
tar as there can be consciousness, there must be judgment."— Hamilton's ed. of Eeid'sWorJcs, p. 414. Reid ob-
serves again: "The first operation [simple-apprehension] maybe exercised without the other two [viz. judg-
ment and reasoning]. It is on that account called simple-apprehension, that is apprehension unaccompanied
with any judgment about the thing apprehended." Upon this Hamilton remarks in another foot-note :
" This is not correct ; apprehension is as impossible without judgment as judgment is impossible without ap-
prehension. The apprehension of a thing or notion is only realized in the mental affirmation that the
concept ideally exists, and this affirmation is a judgment. In fact all consciousness supposes a judgment, a»<
all consciousness supposes a discrimination."— Ham. Eeid, p. 213. And yet Hamilton, notwithstanding the
subtlety of these criticisms, and the frequency of the concessions which they contain, when he comes to define
the Elaborative Faculty, Met. Lectures, 20, expressly calls it the Faculty of Relations, committing precisely
the same oversight into which Reid had fallen with respect to judgment, both in the conception and the def-
inition of the faculty. Even Kant himself, who would seem to remand all knowledge of relations to the
understanding, and deny it to sense and consciousness, yet concedes that these two last have their necessary
forms of space, time, and self,— space and time being the forms of the sensitivity, and the synthetic unity
of apperception being acknowledged in every act of actual knowledge. But these forms involve relation!
of time and space when applied to the objects known.
5
66 THE HUM AX INTELLECT. §49.
It may also be urged that, although it may be true that whenever two objects
No objects -with- are known by a single act, they must be known in relation, yet it is not so
out relations. w}ien the object is single. Of this we observe, that it is impossible that an
object should be known singly and apart from every other. A single object
must be known by some agent, and it cannot be known by that agent unless the object is dis-
tinguished from the agent, and from his act in knowing : but to be distinguished is to be appre-
hended in the relation of diversity. The attention, it is true, may not be strongly fixed on the
relation — it may seem to be engrossed by the object ; but the diversity cannot be unknown.
But there is scarcely such a thing supposable as a single object. There is absolutely no
such thing actually existent in the world of matter or of mind. Every object or event so-
called in nature, every single state of mind, will be acknowledged, when thought of, to be
complex, and to resolve itself before the attentive eye into many separable elements existing
in relations to each other, and held together as one thing by the cementing force of these
bonds. An apple, an orange, a pebble, nay, even a grain of sand, consists of parts not a few,
united into one perceived whole. A mental state, however simple, is in its essential
nature complex, to say nothing of the special relations of time and quality which distinguish it,
from every other.
Besides, the so-called single objects, though complex in reality, are rarely, if ever, known
or thought of apart from one another. They are almost universally known in some compan-
ionship involving a relation.
"When, it is said that in every act of knowledge we not only apprehend that objects exist, hut that they
exist in some relation, it is not intended that the objects are first known to be, and afterwards known in
their relations, but rather that when they are known to be, they are also known as related.
Least of all is it true that objects are first known apart, and then are brought together
Existence not jn oraer that they may be discerned as related. Nothing can be farther from the truth.—
known before or _, , . , . . ; . _ , ...,,...• . ., ,
apart from rela- ^ke object given is always complex. On knowing it, we look at it apart or in its ele-
tions. ments, and at the same time view or combine these elements together. The bringing
together is involved in the taking apart. The discerning the parts is connected with
uniting into a whole. Thus, in the example already given of a mental state, we find it to be complex in
the two-fold relation which the operation bears to the agent and the object. ¥e do not find these related
elements apart, but bound together in the one mental activity. "We do not bring them together, but they
are together, when we separate and afterwards re-unite them. Again, we find apart or separate in nature,
a hundred men, and we unite them into one as a group or line. We both separate in thought what nature
unites in fact, and unite in thought what nature in fact divides.
If knowledge in its very nature involves the apprehension of beings as related, or of beings in their
relations, it does not follow that all knowledge must be what is called relative knowledge. Relative, as
contrasted with absolute knowledge, means something very different from the knowledge of beings and their
relations, or even the knowledge of the relations of beings. Absolute knowledge is consistent with the
knowledge of the relations, or rather it is a complete and independent knowledge of all possible and real
relations. §§ 688, 696.
But what is a relation ? It is natural to ask this question, and it may be said that an
answer is needed in order that we may understand what it is to know. "We answer, The term
is one of the most generic or abstract terms of the language, and, like being, is incapable of a
definition by a term more generic than itself. It can only be made intelligible by examples of
relations in the concrete. Etymologically, it carries us back, for its origin, to the act of refer-
ring, or carrying back. To refer, is to connect in thought — to know or think two objects as
united together. From the act of referring, the word passed over to the effect wrought by the
act, to the union effected. From this signification the transition is natural to another — to that
common something in the two objects by which the mind can view them as connected into
one. This is sometimes called the fundamentum rclationis. (Cf. Hamilton, Metaphysics, App,
v. e ; also Mill, Logic, B. i. c. iii. § 10.)
To determine what a relation is, we must consult the power of knowledge itself, as it is
manifested in its acts and products. This question is closely connected with other inquiries ;
as, How many original relations, or fundamental rela'ionis, arc there, and how arc these
§ 51. ITS FUNCTIONS, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 67
applied ? To answer all these inquiries, we must ask subjectively, What are the several rela.
tions under which the mind connects the objects which it knows ? and objectively, What are
the bonds under which they are connected when united by the mind's activity ? The intellect
itself answers our questions by actually connecting objects in these various ways. To ask,
What is it to know ? is to ask what the mind does when it knows. If we find that, whenever
it performs this act, it originates these relations and applies them to beings or objects, we have
received the only answer to our question which we can possibly receive, or which we can rea-
sonably expect or desire.
Eiowiedge of § 50- ^' ^° kn°w? involves two comprehensive acts, each
Analysis0 r™ni °^ which corresponds to the other — the act of separation,
synthesis. or resolving objects as wholes into other objects which com-
pose them as parts, and the act of uniting or combining the parts into their
wholes. These acts are technically termed analysis and synthesis, and
they are present in every form and variety of knowledge.
In analysis the mind apprehends separate beings or entities. In
sy?ithesis it connects them by some relation. Analysis and synthesis
accompany one another in almost every act of knowledge. In sense-
perception the different parts of material objects and the objects them-
selves, are first distinguished and then united under relations of space and
time. In consciousness, they are connected as coexistent, successive, or
produced by the active ego. In imagination they are separated and reunited
under these and additional relations. In thought, or intelligence, they are
again divided, to be re-combined as- constituents of general notions or con-
ceptions, of judgments, arguments, inferences, and systems. Thought, too,
tends from lower and narrower unities to those which are higher and
broader, bringing, if it may, all knowledge into the unity of common
properties, powers, laws, and ends.
objects and re- § 51, 8* "^e °^jects which the mind cognizes, and the rela-
tions different tions under which they are known, are diverse in kind as
and numerous. J '
well as numerous in quantity. There are objects mental and
objects material, and also the constituent elements of each. Among mate-
rial objects, there are the countless varieties of things, and their manifold
sensible elements or qualities. Among mental objects, there are different
spiritual states, as knowing, feeling, and willing, with all their possible
subordinate varieties. Of relations, there are relations of diversity, of
similarity, of number, of time, of space, of cause, of design, etc., etc.
This variety of objects and relations is discerned by the mind's own
power to know ; and the capacity directly to discern these original differ-
ences in both objects and relations is an original and necessary property
of the faculty of knowledge.
To these propositions almost every person will at first give unquestioning assent. On
second thought, the question might arise whether beingness must not be the same in every
thing known ; and, if so, how can it be possible that, so far as these are beings, there shou!d
be different kinds of beings ? This question may be answered by another, whether relatioa
68 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §52
ship, or relatableness, is not the same thing, so far as it is and is known ? and, if so, how is it
possible that there should be several kinds of it ? It should not be forgotten nor overlooked
that both conceptions are generic, and denote abstract^ which admit, in the concrete, diversity
of kinds or species. (Cf. § 391.)
m 8 52. 9. The process or act of knowledge is complete when
When is the pro- f . r ° *
cess of knowi- it is matured into a product, and the product itseli becomes
edge complete I . . .
an object to the mind's future knowing. Sometimes the
whole of a mental state becomes such a product ; at other times some one
element of a single mental state is detached from the act that produced it,
and becomes endowed, so to speak, with a separate life. This product, so
far as it exists, exists as a mental transcript or representation of the origi-
nal, whether that original were a subject-object or an object-object, and is
capable of being recalled, and of itself recalling the original, whether ii
were material or spiritual.
The term product must of course be interpreted by the nature of the producing act. The
producing act is, as has been already defined, an act or operation of apprehending being, in a
relation or in relations. When a being or object — one or more — is so apprehended as to be
recalled, then does it become a product or an acquisition in the sense intended. The product
of the knowing operation is an object as known to be. That a certain energy of the operation
is essential to this consequence or effect, is attested by experience. How it is possible to sep
arate a part of a mental state so as to make of this, and this alone, a retainable or represent
able product, will be explained hereafter.
The power of producing such reproducible and permanent results is
essential to the perfection and the utility of the act of knowing. It is so
essential, that upon it depend the simplest acts of the memory and the
imagination, without which the mind would be limited to the transient
present, and could neither gather instruction from the past, nor apply wis-
dom to the future. The higher processes by which man explains the pow-
ers and laws of nature would otherwise be impossible, and the capacity
to use these powers and to apply these laws in any practical service would
be excluded altogether.
The knowledge which is thus separated from the original activity is
called representative knowledge, with reference to the original act of
acquiring, and mediate or represented knowledge, with reference to the
original objects known. The objects thus provided are called acquired or
positive knowledge. The power to acquire, i. e. so to know as to provide
such objects, is clearly distinguishable in thought from the power to know.
In fact, the power to acquire, depends on the perfection anil energy with
which we know.
In all activity, it is not easy to separate, hy relations of time or by conscious notice, the producing act
from the produced effect. The doing becomes a deed, the causation an. effect, by transitions, the lines and
shadings of which cannot be always sharply drawn. This is preeminently true of all mental activity and
production. We need not be embarrassed by this plain fact of experience, or by the distinctions which it
involves. We are conscious that we perceive a picture or a countenance. Wo are as well aware that w«
afterwards recall what we have seen. That which we recall, is the product of our intellectual activity.
§54. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 69
The analysis of the product enables us to understand and explain the elements and agencies whicl
make up the process. The product is enshrined in language, and made visible and tangible in action
Very often its existence is forced upon the attention by its prominence in the sciences, the arts, the faiths
and manners of the race. Hence the study of all these is often a most important aid to psychology.
8 53. 10. The same act of knowledge, with similar objective
The act diverse ° ,. . _ „-./., ,
in its energy, condition s, may be performed with greater or less energy
attention. ■„-'•. , ■ • . * ■, . .
ihis greater or less energy in the operation of knowmg is
called attention ; which word, as its etymology suggests, is another term
for tension or effort, and was doubtless first transferred to the spiritual
operation from the strained condition of the part or whole of the bodily
organism, which accompanies or follows such effort. This effort is mani-
fested in the more or less exclusive and complete occupation of the know-
ing power by the object or relation that is to be known. This greater or
less effort of attention is followed by the greater or less distinctness, vivid-
ness, and completeness in the objects apprehended, and in the objects
retained among the mind's permanent possessions, as also by a greater or
less facility in exercising a similar activity a second time.
This energy of attention may be directed sometimes to more and sometimes to fewer of
the parts of an object, or of the constituting elements of a mental state. For example, when
I look at a house, a horse, or a tree, I may be so absorbed with the color as to neglect the
form and dimensions of each ; or my attention may be equally divided between form, dimen-
sions, and color ; or I may be so occupied with a part or the whole of the material object, as
to neglect my own subjective condition, whether psychical or corporeal ; or (as rarely happens)
I may bestow my attention equally on both conjoined. The part or the whole which is thus
attended to, is more likely to be separated from its accompaniments and retained for future use.
§ 54. 11. Some beings and relations are discerned by the
Borne objects . , . , „ , , _ . . J
more easily dis - mind with far greater ease than others. To know, is, as has
ers. been stated already, an act of an individual being, and an
act which admits greater or less energy of attention. Now, to hold the
mind to certain classes of objects and relations, is comparatively easy,
requires little or no exertion, and is accomplished with spontaneous facility.
To know so as to master an unfamiliar object, always involves effort at the
first ; and a ready facility can only be attained by frequent repetition.
Why or how this is so, we need not here explain. The causes are partly logical, partly
psychological ; i. e., partly explicable by the nature and mutual relations of the objects known,
and partly explicable by the emotional or active susceptibilities. The greater ease or difficulty of
applying the attention to different classes of objects, and for this reason, of knowing them with
more or less complete success, can be very largely accounted for by the circumstance, that the
appetites, desires, etc., render possible a greater or less interest in these diverse objects. But
why a greater or less interest should be spontaneously awakened in one rather than in another
in its turn, can only be explained by the ordinances of nature and the constitution of man.
The fact is known by universal experience, and is attested by universal observation. It is
natural, and soon becomes easy to all men to attend to material objects, up to a certain degree
of minuteness. It is comparatively difficult and unnatural to consider closely the experiences
and processes of the soul. It is easy to decide upon the comparative length and breadth of
two corporeal objects. It is not so easy to apprehend the parts and relations of a mathemat
70 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. § 56
ical theorem or of a logical argument. The easier and more natural processes are performed
by all men. The more difficult and less natural are reserved for the few. For facility in the
one, that education which nature furnishes to all, is amply sufficient. For skill and readiness iD
the other, special discipline and culture, literally great pains-taking, are requisite.
intellectual de- § 55, 12, ^is genera^ ^act or ^aw of tne intellectual consti-
^choiSica^or- tuti°n explains the nature of intellectical development and
der- the possibility of intellectual growth. The easier and spon-
taneous processes are first performed, and are therefore the earliest per-
fected and matured. The more difficult and artificial are exercised next ,in
order ; and readiness and skill in using them is reached at a later period.
The powers of sense and outward observation are first developed, next
those of memory and imagination, and last of all, those of reflection,
thought, and reason.
As it is with the intellectual processes, so is it with their products.
We have seen how the products are related to the processes ; that as the
mental processes are employed and perfected with energetic attention, so
the mental products are evolved in completed perfection, as naturally and
as certainly as the ripe fruit or perfected seed drops from the plant or tree
which has rightly elaborated its secret processes. It follows, that, as the
powers have to each other a relation of natural succession and of neces-
sary evolution, so their products are related in an order of mutual depend-
ence and connection, one looking back and the other forward. Objects of
the memory and the imagination have no meaning and no reality, except
as they presuppose and require objects of sense and consciousness. Gen-
eral conceptions and universal truths have no import except as they can be
applied to, and be illustrated by, individual beings or events, as observed,
remembered, and imagined. In this way there comes to be an organic
connection among the products of the intellect, corresponding to the
organic relations of the several processes out of which they grow. This
relation, as it depends on the development of the soul itself, is called
psychological ; as it implies antecedence and subsequence of time, it is
called chronological. Both these terms are indifferently applied to the
subjective processes and the objective results ; but as the former is promi
nent to the attention, it is more frequently used.
Theio icaireia- § 56# 13, Besides the psychological or chronological rela-
tion of processes tion of the powers and products to one another, there is still
and products. .... . .
another, which is more important and fundamental, and that
is their philosophical or logical relation.
We use one kind of knowing to supplement another, and often not
only to assist and supplement, but even to correct its operations and
results. Thus we reason to conclusions which we cannot observe by the
senses or experience in consciousness. We infer results which we cannot
try by experiment, and Ave predict them before it is time for them to occur.
We correct rash conclusions, by looking at principles and laws. We deny
§57. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 71
assertions, however confident, by employing arguments. We question so*
called facts because they do not square with an established theory.
§ 57. We set up a broad distinction between two kinds of
pMio?ophicarn knowledge, calling the one empirical and the other philo-
sophical, the one, knowledge by observation, and the other,
knowledge by principles or reasons. We should remember, when we
make this distinction, that in the two there is but one and the same mind
which knows ; that the same intellect observes and reasons upon the same
subject-matter. It follows that the same mind uses two ways or processes
of knowing, and that these assist and correct each other. There must,
then, be a relation of dependence between the two. The one must be
subject to the other, in the mind's own judgment, and according to the
ordinances of the mind's own constitution. In other words, the mind that
observes, knows that, by thinking, it can correct and aid its own observ-
ing, and that the one method of knowing has a certain authority over the
other. Not that the one can take place without the other, or that the one
can take place so as to dispense with the other. This is contradicted by
the facts of the mind's own development. It is refuted by the psycho-
logical relation of the two processes which we have just considered. But
while one is psychologically necessary to the other, and involved in the
other, the one is subordinated to the other in importance and trustwor-
thiness.
Thus, when we analyze a substance, we determine the qualities that are common to its
class, and so are enabled to define a general conception, by resolving it into its constituent or
necessary elements. We account for or explain a phenomenon which we observe, or a fact
of which we hear, by referring to the causes or forces by which it was produced ; and these very
causes or forces we interpret still further by the laws according to which they act ; or we round
off and complete the explanation by stating the adaptations to an end or assumed design.
In all these cases we assume that, to know by generalizing, by classifying, by defining,
and by assigning causes and laws, is a more complete, a more satisfying, and a more trust-
worthy method of knowing, than to know by observation, by memory, or by testimony.
As there is an organic relation between these two methods of know-
ing, there is a corresponding relation between their products. This is the
relation of logical dependence or of rational connection. One conception
is subordinate to another, as a species to a genus ; or one is a property or
attribute of another, as a quality of a substance ; or one is contained in
another, as an element in its definition ; or is given as a reason for another,
as a proof for an assertion, a premise for a conclusion, a datum for an
induction, or a means to an end. Many conceptions and truths are also
capable of being united in mutual relations of classification and explana-
tion, as constituents of a system. All these are examples of logical rela-
tions in mental products.
The logical relations of the products grow out of the philosophical dependence of the
processes -from which the products are evolved. But inasmuch as the products are expressed
72 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 59
in language, and are made objective to the mind, their logical and objective relations are more
striking and prominent than the subordination of the acts of knowledge to one another when
psychologically considered. In other words, the authority of logical or philosophical concep-
tions and relations is in the last analysis to be found in the constitution of the rational as con-
trasted with the empirical faculties. But there is this peculiarity in the rational faculty, that it
asserts for itself intellectual authority over the lower powers, by asserting for its products, the
place of criteria, rules, reasons, and principles for the products of the lower. Hence the
objective or logical relations are more conspicuous than the psychological and subjective.
The question has been much discussed, whether one kind of knowledge can be made the
judge over another, and especially whether one species — the rational — can be applied or sub-
stituted for the empirical, or observing ; whether, for example, we ought to be obliged to give
reasons for trusting our sense-perceptions or our acts of memory. We have already said that
this would be impossible if it were required; because, in order to reason, we must first (i. e.y
by psychological necessity) perceive and remember. But we may confirm our sense-percep-
tions and memories by logical, or philosophical grounds. It is to be observed, however, that
what we confirm or overthrow in the sense-perception or memory is not the empirical, but the
logical element ; not the observation, but the inference ; not the being, but the inferred rela-
tion ; not that something is, but the what or the how or the why it is.
8 58. 14. The psychological and logical order do not always
These relations
do not always agree. The order of intellectual growth and of psycho-
logical development does not coincide with the order of
logical dependence and of philosophical arrangement. That which is last
in actual attainment, is first in logical importance. The truths and rela-
tions which the mind is the latest and the slowest to develop and assent
to, may be those which are fundamental to its philosophical system. The
propositions which are found as the results of its severest toil and the
fruits of its highest discipline, when found, are made the principles, the
starting-points, the beginnings of its reasonings and its investigations.
Hence it may be taken as a maxim, that what is psychologically last, is
first in logic and in reason.
§ 59. 15. When the mind has attained the command of its
ofhknowiedSage nigner faculties, and developed the familiar principles and
rules which they assume, it applies them to a double use, of
explaining and testing its lower faculties and knowledges, and of trying
and judging the power of thought itself. Its final act is to apply them
in judging the mind itself, and preeminently its higher powers, for the
purpose of testing their trustworthiness and examining their authority.
It challenges the thinking power, asking' what are the laws of its acting,
and what the authority of its results. It inquires what are the principles
which it assumes, the relations which are ultimate and unquestioned as
the objects and means of its knowing. After questioning every other
agent in the universe, and judging of its workings, it turns its scrutiny in
upon itself, to test the processes by which it knows, and even the very
rules and principles which it imposes upon every thing besides, and even
upon itself.
This is the critical or the speculative stage of the soul's development
§60. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 73
When it has reached this stage of its history, it has completed the circle
of activity for which its constitution provides. It has performed everj-
variety of operation or function which is possible to a knowing being.
§ 60. The consideration of the three orders of progress which have beer
Order of intel- ,.",.', -, ., ^ , . , . ., , , . •, ,
lectual devel- explained in the acts and products of the mind, viz., the psychological, the
gro^h11* and logical, and the critical, enables us to trace more satisfactorily the growth of
the mind through the stages of its normal and complete development. This
development begins to be made manifest with the beginnings of attention. Before this, it?
activities are, as it were, rudimental only. There is the feeble and confused experience of
pleasurable and painful sensations, blind instincts impelling to movements as aimless ; but no
definite experience of good or evil, and no distinct knowledge even of the simplest objeets.
Of this state, memory preserves no recollection, and concerning it, imagination has no materials
out of which to shape an image or conception. From this condition the mind awakes when
some object attracts and holds its attention. The infant's power to know begins to be devel-
oped when it begins to attend. The idiot is awakened from its imbruted life by the patient
appliances which invention, stimulated by love, employs to fix the eye and hold the mind. As
soon as the idiot and the infant begin to notice, the vacant countenance for the first time
assumes the expression of intelligence, and is lighted with the gleaming dawn of intellectual
activity. Attention gives discrimination, and discrimination implies objects discriminated.
The first objects distinguished are objects of sense. It is in the physical world that the soul
lives for the earliest years of its activity ; it is with this world that it is occupied and absorbed.
The sensible objects that are first mastered are those which relate to its wants, and generally,
so far only as they are related to these wants ; first its appetites, then its affections and desires.
With the discernment of these objects, in their relation to these sensibilities and desires,
begins also the direction of the active powers by intelligence. The sensations and feelings are
referred to definite objects, they are restrained by discipline and habit, they are fixed upon one
or another as an aim or goal of effort. The will must also come in, to elevate or degrade the
affections in their moral life.
But though the attention is at first chiefly occupied with sensible objects, and these promi-
nently in their relations to the sensibilities and the practical wants, it is not wholly neglectful of
the psychical operations and the psychical self. At a very early period the body is distinguished
from the material world of which it forms a part, and the soul begins to be apprehended as
diverse from the body, as soon as the purely psychical emotions, as the love of power and sym-
pathy, or the irascible passions, are vividly experienced. Though the phenomena of con-
sciousness, as distinguished from the phenomena of sense, are not so distinctly attended to as
to be separately named or familiarly spoken of, yet a real apprehension of the soul as a special
energy, capable of various psychical activities and the source of most important experiences,
must very early be combined with the more forcibly discriminated apprehensions of sense.
As fast as the attention masters distinct objects, it must separate them into separable ideas
or images, which are henceforth at the service of the imagination and the memory. These
reappear in the occasional dream-life that begins to disturb what was hitherto the animal sleep
of the infant. Memory begins to recall past experiences of knowledge and feeling. Recog-
nition finds old and familiar acquaintances in the objects seen a second time. At a later
period, imagination begins to imitate the actions and occupations of older persons, and fur-
nishes endless and varied playwork for childhood, in the busy constructions of the never-
wearied fancy ; while it irradiates the emotional life with perpetual and inextinguishable sun.
shine.
Slowly, the rudiments of thinking, or the rational processes, begin to be learned and prac-
tised. The attention not only discriminates, but compares. As it compares, it discerns like-
nesses and differences in qualities and relations. These, it thinks apart from the individual
74 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 61.
objects to which they pertain. It groups and arranges, under the general conceptions thus
formed, the individuals and species to which they belong. To these activities language fur-
nishes its stimulus and lends its aid. Inasmuch as there can be but a limited language without
generalization, the infant or child is forced to think, by the multitude of words which catch its
ear and force themselves upon its attention ; each representing the previous thinking of other
men, and even of other generations. But generalization is at best but a slow process, and the
mind at first does as little as it can, entering into the meaning of words only just deeply
enough to use them as instruments of its convenience or pleasure, and classifying and arrang-
ing the objects of matter and of spirit only so far as is requisite for its immediate purposes.
With classifying, are intimately allied the higher acts of tracing effects to causes and illus-
trating causes by effects. Then, inductions are made by interpreting similar qualities and
causes, as exhibited in experience and elicited by experiments. The mind becomes possessed
of principles and rules, which it applies in deductions both to prove and explain. The powers
and forces of matter and spirit begin to be discerned, as the result of induction and deduction
combined. The relations of these powers to their conditions, and to one another, as well as to
motion, time, and space, begin to be fixed and definitely stated, and the laws of matter and of
spirit are ascertained in a wider or more limited range and application. Science arranges all
beings and all events into the order of completed systems, by means of all the processes of
thought ; and the whole world of nature is recast into a new spiritual structure, under the rela-
tions by which thought decomposes and recombines its individual beings and events, as pre-
sented to observation under the relations of space and time. Moreover, adaptation and design
axe seen to shoot golden threads of light and order through the warp and woof of that other-
wise pale and lifeless system of nature, which science reconstructs out of blind forces and fixed
mechanical laws. The originating and intelligent intellect of the Eternal Creator and Designer
is reached, as the first assumption and the last result of scientific thought.
Last of all, thought turns back upon itself, and critically analyzes all its knowledge, and its
very power to know. It inquires into and scrutinizes its acquisitions and its assumptions, and
challenges its own confidence in its most familiar processes and beliefs. It seeks to justify to
itself its acquired knowledge, its science, and its faith, by retracing, under the guidance of
logical relations, every step it has taken, and every stage through which it has passed in its
development and growth. It analyzes to the utmost minuteness, and abstracts with the ex-
tremest generality, till it would seem to destroy the vitality of the thinking agent by the keen-
ness and refinement of its dissections. It lays bare the necessary assumptions, the primary and
universal relations, which are acknowledged and acted upon in all observation, in all science,
and in all faith. It returns home again from the unnatural course of its speculative criticism,
and the constrained attitude of its critical and perhaps sceptical inquiries, fcs confide a second
time in the knowledge and the faith which it could not but acquire and trust in its progressive
synthesis, and which it now has learned to vindicate by its retrogressive analysis.
These critical and speculative processes of thought are reserved for but few of the race to
prosecute. They are, however, the normal and the necessary consummation of the completed
growth of the fully developed man.
§ 61. The consideration of the development and growth of the intellect fur-
Order and rules nishes the only true principles by which to regulate the culture of the intel-
for intellectual J .
culture. lect, and to arrange the order in which the different branches of knowledge
should be studied.
The studies which should be first pursued are those which require and discipline the
powers of observation and acquisition, and which involve imagination and memory, in con-
trast with those which demand severe efforts and trained habits of thought. Inasmuch, also,
as material objects are apprehended and mastered in early life with far greater case and suc-
cess than the acts and states of the spirit, objective and material studies should have almost
the exclusive precedence. The capacity of exact and discriminating perception, and of clear
and retentive memory, should be developed as largely as possible. The imagination, in all its
§ 62. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 75
forms, should be directed and elevated — we do not say stimulated, because, in the case of most
children, its activity is never-tiring, whether they be at study, work, or play.
We do not say, cultivate perception, memory, and fancy, to the exclusion or repression
of thought, for this is impossible. These powers, if exercised by human beings, must be
interpenetrated by thought. If wisely cultivated by studies properly arranged, they will neces-
sarily involve discrimination, comparison, and explanation. To teach pure observation, or the
mastery of objects or words, without classification and interpretation, is to be ignorant even to
simple stupidity. But, on the other hand, to stimulate the thought-processes to unnatural and
prematurely painful efforts, is to do violence to the laws which nature has written in the con-
Btitution of the intellect. Even thought and reflection teach us that, before the processes o{
thought can be applied, materials must be gathered in large abundance ; and to provide for
these, Nature has made acquisition and memory easy and spontaneous for childhood, and rea-
soning and science difficult and unnatural.
The study of language should be prosecuted in childhood, as it is, in fact, in the acquisi-
tion of the mother-tongue. In the acquisition of other languages the methods by which the
vernacular is learned should be followed as far as is possible. Grammar, so far as it is re-
quired, should be simple, plain, and practical. Its theories should be kept in the background,
its terminology and principles should be the reverse of the abstract. The contrasts and com-
parisons involved between the strange and the familiar, will stimulate and guide to the first
beginnings of reflective grammar. The memory for words should be exercised and stimulated.
Choice tales, poems — narrative and lyric, should be learned for recitation. Natural history in
all its branches, as contrasted with the sciences of nature or scientific physics, should be mas-
tered with the objects before the eye — flowers, minerals, shells, birds, and beasts. These
studies should all be mastered in the springtime of life, when the tastes are simple, the heart
is fresh, and the eye is sharp and clear. The facts of history and geography should be fixed
by repetition and stored away in order.
But science of every kind, whether of language, of nature, of the soul, or of God, as
science, should not be prematurely taught. For the consequence is, either disgust and hostility
to all study on the one hand, or, on the other, superficial thinking, presumptuous conceit, and,
worst of all, sated curiosity.
The law of intellectual progress involves effort and discipline severely imposed and con
stantly maintained, but the effort and discipline should follow the guidance of nature.
Principles of § 62* The consideration of the nature and the development
clowersiUof the °^ knowledge teaches on what principles we may divide the
intellect. powers of the intellect, and what is the most scientific
ground of classifying them.
In assigning different faculties to the intellect, we do not divide it into
separable parts or organs. Such a division is less conceivable of the soul's
power to know, than it is of its entire conscious activity. When we say
that the intellect has faculties, we mean only that the soul, acting as the
intellect, acts under certain conditions in clearly distinguishable operations
and to definite and determinable results or products. The consideration
of the soul's development determines the conditions of these faculties.
The consideration of the logical relation of the products assigns to these
faculties their relative authority and importance.
In tracing the development of the intellectual powers in their succes«
sion, we do not exclude the co-action of the other so-called faculties of the
76 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §62.
soul, as of feeling and will. Their presence and agency have already been
recognized with sufficient prominence.
Nor do we deny or overlook the truth, that the several powers of the
intellect act together in the earlier stages of its growth, and in both the
earlier and later periods of its history both aid and direct one another.
The action of a single power of the intellect does not exclude the co-ac-
tion of the other powers. Yet, on the other hand, it is to be remem-
bered, that as the energy of the whole soul is so far limited that one
psychical state is preeminently a state of feeling, another intellectual, and
another voluntary, so, in the intellectual activities, one is likely to be pre-
dominantly an act of sense rather than an act of memory.
When it is said that one power, as defined, is, in the order of time and
growth, developed sooner than another, it is not intended that each lower
power is completely or largely matured before the other and higher is
used at all, or that distinctly traced boundary lines mark off the several
stages of the mind's development. This would involve the absurdity of
teaching that the child perceives with the senses for a long time before it
begins to remember, and that it remembers and imagines for another long
period, before it generalizes and explains. What is asserted is, that sense
must begin before memory and thought are possible, and that, as a power,
it is perfected before thought has reached its consummation.
Moreover, it will be found to be true in fact, that many acts which w^e
call acts of sense-perception are largely intermingled with acts of repre-
sentation and thought (§ 166). It will also be found to be true that acts
of memory recall past objects under the laws of association which thought
makes possible (§ 268) ; while imagination, in which thought is not largely
conspicuous, is scarcely worthy the name (§ 222).
These cautions being premised, we observe that the powers of the
intellect are clearly distinguishable by the order of their development and
application, as manifested in the character and relation of their products.
Each faculty is distinguished by the conditions and results of its acting.
It is shown to be a peculiar power, by requiring a certain opportunity or
means of acting, and by producing certain results.
We have shown already that the products or objects of the mind's knowing are determined
by the kind of its acting, and grow out of this acting as its natural result. The several
products or objects of knowledge most clearly distinguish the kinds and capacities of knowing,
because these, in a sense, are permanent, while the act that produces them is evanescent, no
sooner beginning than it is done. The product is preserved in language, and represented by
words and propositions. We do not deny that the several modes of knowing arc distinguish-
able from one another in conscious experience. It is certain that to each is assigned a special
excitement of feeling. The perceptions of sense give a pleasure or pain which is distinguish-
able from those of remembering and imagination, and all these processes differ in this particu-
lar from the activities of thought. But it is the nature of the objects or products of these
activities which furnishes the most distinct and the most easily applied criterion. These, with
§64. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 77
the as clearly recognizable conditions of the mind's different ways of acting, may be taken ai
the ground of our definition and division of the faculties of the intellect.
§ 63. The leading faculties of the intellect are three : The
Faculties enu- presentative, or observing faculty / the representative, or cre-
ative faculty ; the thinking, or the generalizing faculty.
More briefly, the faculty of experience, the faculty of representation, and
the faculty of intelligence. Each of these has its place in the order of
intellectual growth and development. Each has its appropriate products
or objects. Each acts under certain conditions or laws.
Each of these leading faculties is subdivided into subordinate powers,
W'hich are distinguishable from one another in like manner with their pri-
maries.
§ 64. I. The presentative faculty, or the faculty of acqui-
Thepreseatative sition and experience, is subdivided into sense-perception and
consciousness ; or, as they are sometimes called, the* outer
and the inner sense.
In the order of the mind's development these are exercised first and
earliest of all. The intellect begins its activity with observing objects of
sense. Closely connected with this is the observation of the soul's inner
experiences, prominent among which are its feelings of pleasure and pain.
Not only is this known to be true in fact, but it is impossible for us to
conceive that any other order should be followed. The mind must
observe before it remembers ; for, without something observed and ac-
quired, nothing could be remembered or imagined, because there would
be nothing to remember or imagine.
The objects or products with which this power is concerned,
its objects ; how or which it evolves, are individual objects. In this respect
they are distinguished from the objects of thought, which are
always general. But this feature they share with those of memory and
imagination, which are also individual. From these last they are still further
distinguished by being presented for the first time ; hence the epithet pre-
sentative is applied to the faculty by which they are known. This feature
is made still more precise by their relations in space and in time. The
objects of sense are fixed in space, being here, and the objects of conscious-
ness are fixed as now in time. These two relations they share with the
objects of no other power. They are also mutually related to one another,
the one being an individualized non-ego, the other being a determinate
state of the ego.
The conditions to these acts of knowledge, as in every kind
its conditions. 0f knowledge, are to be distinguished from the act of knowl-
edge itself. The conditions furnish the material — in one
sense the objects — which the mind must know. The acting of these con-
ditions in the production of these objects, as has been explained (§ 46), is
always presupposed before the mind can know. The mind's act in know-
'78 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §65.
ing is clearly to be kept apart from the agency of tlie soul or intellect in
preparing the object.
The conditions of the acts of sense-knowledge are the existence of the
living body in connection with a sensitive or sensational spirit. The two
furnish the material, the occasions, or the objects on which the mind
exercises the intellectual act of cognition. Some of these are bodily,
some are psychical. Some of these are known to physiology, others to
acoustics and optics. Others are wholly unknown, as is eminently true of
the powers and relations of the soul which respect the organized body.
But so far as they are knowable, they are appropriately considered in
explaining the power of sense-knowledge.
The condition which furnishes or constitutes the object for the act of
consciousness^ is that the soul should in fact act or suffer in a present and
individual state. Unless the soul is in fact thus affected, its activity can-
not be apprehended by consciousness. Consciousness takes heed of the
fact, i, e., of the operation, and cognizes that it is. Whence or how it is
that the soul furnishes this material, or how the soul is able to act in these
varied forms, it can do little to explain. These operations lie out of the
range of consciousness ; they are presupposed by it. On the other hand,
consciousness as well as perception are largely concerned in the use which
they make of the objective conditions or material of their, knowing, and
are therefore largely responsible for what the soul knows. Let the exter-
nal world and the quick sensibility both conjoin to furnish ample material
through eye and ear; let .the active and eager soul exercise the most
varied forms of act or affection ; if the conscious spirit does not attend, it
will fail to notice, and of course will fail to know.
§ 65. II. Next to the presentative comes the faculty of
tire facS?Tnta" rePresenta^on' That this is developed second in order of
growth and of time to the soul's power to acquire and
observe, is obvious.
TJie objects or products of this poicer are individual objects,
its objects. like the objects of sense and of consciousness. They differ
from them in this, that they are representative of them. Of
course, they are not real, but mental objects. They are wrought or cre-
ated by the mind itself, but always with respect to some real object actu-
ally experienced. This is their common characteristic, that they represent
observed and experienced objects. They are representative ; i. e., they
present a second time, and thus stand in the place of, objects previously
known.
In representing these objects, the mind acts in two ways — as the mem-
ory ; and as the imagination or phantasy ; and hence the representative
power is divided into these two. In memory it knows that the mental ob-
ject represents an object previously known. In imagination it changes the
representative object into another, which it has never actually experienced,
§6Q. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 79
According as it changes the object in more or fewer particulars, and with
special applications, does the imagination receive different names.
its conditions • ^he conditions of the representing power are, that the soul
Kasiation °f D°th retains and reproduces past objects for the memory to
recognize and the imagination to modify. If the soul refuses
to furnish these appropriate objects, neither the memory nor the imagina-
tion can know their objects. For this reason, the power of the soul to
retain and recall is essential to the power to know these mental objects
when represented. Ordinarily and properly these powers are prominently
considered in the analysis of the representative faculty. That they are
ideally and really distinguishable from one another is obvious. Hamilton
distinguishes three separate powers, viz., the power to retain, the power to
recall, and the power to represent or re-know. The last only is the purely
intellectual capacity, the first two being only the capacities acting out of
consciousness, which are analogous to the psycho-physiological functions
that furnish sounds for the ear and sights for the eye.
Concerning the actings of this conditionating capacity of the soul we
know little directly, but indirectly we know very much : that is, we know
how we can affect its actings by our own conscious energies in acquiring.
The relations and laws by which acquired objects can be reproduced are
more obvious and better established than almost any other psychological
truths. These are all comprehended under the familiar title of the asso-
ciation of ideas, and they very properly enter largely into the considera-
tion of the representative power.
§ 6G. IIL The power of thought is developed last of all in
•teiiigence, devei- the order of the soul's evolution or growth. It is also called
the intelligence, and the rational faculty.
This power requires for its possible exercise some range of observation,
some wealth of memory, and some creative activity of imagination. For its
effective energy and its actual application it must be preceded by many sepa-
rate exercises of all these functions. To the thorough and persistent use and
the complete development of this power, the soul is most of all disinclined ;
and therefore it disuses it in many applications, especially in its higher
forms, till the experience of its dignity and usefulness, furnishes motives
strong enough to constrain and discipline it to 'habitual and facile activity.
But though this power is last and reluctantly developed, it surpasses
all the other kinds of knowledge in dignity and importance. It explains
facts and events by powers and laws. It enforces conclusions by premises.
It accounts for inferences by data. It lifts observation up to the dignity
of science, and establishes it on the firm foundation of principles. It
enables us to interpret the past, and to predict the future.
The products of this power are always generalized objects,
its products. They are universals, as contrasted with individuals. This
difference distinguishes this power of the intellect widely
80 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §60.
from the two others. These products are known by various names, and it
is chiefly by the commonly recognized differences in the names of these
products, that the subordinate forms of the power itself are known and
named. These products are, the concept, the class, the judgment, the
argument, the induction, the interpretation, and the system. The general
term comprehending all these products or results, and presupposing all the
requisite processes or ways of knowing, is science, which is used subjec-
tively for the processes, and objectively for their combined products.
In accordance with these distinguishable products, the intellect is said
to perform all the acts which require the several powers or faculties of
generalizing, classifying, judging, reasoning, inferring, explaining, and
methodizing the individual objects given by experience. Hence the intel-
lect is sometimes said to be endowed with as many separate faculties.
The most obvious aid or instrument provided by Nature for further-
ing these processes and retaining their products, is language. For this
reason the existence of language is regarded as a necessary result of the
power of thought, and the use of language is regarded as the indication of
its presence and exercise.
The conditions of thought, as distinguished from the rnate-
^fhthoughttlon3 "als or occasions of thought which experience furnishes, are
relations discerned by the power of thought itself, in a way
analogous to the preparation of the occasions of sense-perception and con-
sciousness by the subtle and recondite activity of the soul itself, and the
occasions of memory and imagination through the laws of association.
They are analogous so far as that the reality of these relations is an
assumed condition of these peculiar operations ; and when the mind comes
to apprehend them, it must proceed upon the belief that they are uni-
versally present and incontestably valid. In this sense the mind itself pre-
pares for itself these objects of its own apprehension. For the service of
thought, all individual objects are still farther prepared by being con-
nected or bound together under universal and necessary relations or cate-
gories. Such are the relations of substance and attribute, cause and effect,
means and end. These must be presented to the mind by the mind, in
order that a single process of thought may be performed, or a single
product evolved. Thus the relation of substance and attribute is assumed
as real in order to the possibility and truth of the acts of generalizing and
of judgment. The relation of cause and effect must be presupposed to
give meaning and force to acts of reasoning and explanation. The rela-
tions of design are the prefatory conditions of acts of induction. But
universal or generalized objects presuppose the existence of individual
concepts and their relations, and have no meaning except as they are
related to beings and phenomena as perceived and experienced. To indi-
vidual beings and events, space and time relations are presupposed.
Therefore, in order to the products of thought, the intuitions of space and
I 66. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES.
81
time are presupposed. In other words, the mind must assume that every
individual object stands connected with other objects by all these relations
before it can proceed a step in the various activities of thinking these
objects, by conceptions, arguments, inferences, etc. These relations are
said to be a priori, for the reason that they are presupposed in these
processes. They are called intuitions, primitive cognitions, etc., etc.
They are said to be universal, because applicable to every individual
object in the way explained. They are necessary notions, because they
are necessarily applied by the mind in all its thought-activities, and to all
thought-objects.
They are, however, i-0 more necessary to thought than they are to
presentation and representation. We imply and suppose them as truly,
though not as conspicuously, in perception and consciousness, in memory
and imagination, as we do in classification and reasoning. We connect
them more directly with the processes of intelligence, because it is not
till we question or analyze these processes that we are forced to recognize
their presence and assent to their validity, as directly and conspicuously
assumed in them all.
Moreover, it is by means of the generalizing and the inductive pro-
cesses that we discern and define these categories. It is only as we use
thought-processes critically — i. e., as we generalize and interpret our
own mental processes — that we discover these relations as everywhere and
necessarily present. Though they are actually present, as the conditions
and elements of all our knowing, it is only by thought that we discover
and demonstrate their presence and their application, as the conditions of
all knowledge. It is for this reason that the treatment of them is so
directly connected with the analysis of thought, and that, when thought, in
its turn, is applied to their analysis, as the explanation and vindication of
human knowledge in its processes and products, then the intellect is said
to reach the critical stage of its development.
In view of this distinction in the thinking power, or the two
foms of though? asPe°ts m which it is to be regarded, the power itself has
been treated as twofold, and been subdivided into two : the
elaborative faculty, as performing the processes, and the regulative, as
furnishing the rules, or more properly as prescribing the sphere and possi-
bility of thought. These are named also the clianoetic and the noetic
faculty. By some writers they are distinguished as the understanding and
reason, in a usage suggested by Kant, but deviating materially from his
own. Milton and others call them the discursive and intuitive Reason-
It is clear that the analysis of the thinking power involves two heads
of inquiry :
(1.) What are the several processes of thought of which the intellect
is capable, in the order of their development, the manner of their action,
their conditions, and their products? So far as psychology prosecutes
82 THE HUMAN INTELLECT § 66.
these inquiries, it considers them subjectively as processes of the soul.
When we go further, and proceed to define their products as expressed in
language, or to derive rules for the knowing processes, or to test the trust-
worthiness of what is known, psychology passes over into the service of
logic.
(2.) What are the ultimate relations or categories which thought, and,
indeed, all knowledge, presupposes ? What is the power or process by
which these categories are known ? What the time of their develop-
ment ? What the conditions of their action ? What is the authority and
trustworthiness of these truths ? What is the relation of these intuitions
to special acts of knowledge ? What application can be made of them to
the discovery of truth and the detection of error ? Last of all, how can
they be applied to vindicate man's confidence in his own knowledge, and
his very power to know ?
All these questions, when prosecuted with reference to the subjective
power of the soul to evolve and apply these intuitions, belong legitimately
and necessarily to psychology.
So far as the intuitions themselves, objectively considered, are made
the subjects of analysis and discussion; so far as their relations to one
another, and the structure of human knowledge, are examined ; so far, in
short, as they are made the subject of critical or speculative discussion,
they lead us within the field of metaphysics, ontology, or speculative
philosophy, for which, as has been already explained, psychology is the
direct and necessary preparation.
In view of the importance of this critical examination of the mind's
own processes, and of the trustworthiness of these products, the discus-
sion of the so-called intuitions, or the concepts and relations involved in
all human knowledge, falls within the province of psychology, and may
properly form a distinct division in the scientific analysis of the human
intellect.
We divide, therefore, our treatise into four parts, with the following
titles : I. Presentation ; II. Representation ; III. Thought ; IV. In-
tuition. For the explanation and justification of this division 'we must
refer to the foregoing remarks, and the subsequent treatment of the topics
themselves.
THE HUMAN INTELLECT.
PART FIRST.
PRESENTATION AND PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE.
CHAPTER I.
CONSCIOUSNESS — NATUEAL CONSCIOUSNESS.
We begin with presentative knowledge, and the faculties by which man is capable of acquir.
ing it. This knowledge has been denned as concerned with objects which are directly
and for the first time presented to the mind, as acquired for the mind's future recall and
use, and as gained only by actual experience. It is therefore called presentative, acquisi-
tive, and experimental or empirical. Of objects thus presented to the mind there are two
classes : objects of matter, and objects of spirit. Corresponding to these two classes of
objects, two powers or faculties are distinguished, viz., consciousness and sense-percep-
tion. We shall first treat of consciousness.
§ 67. Consciousness is briefly defined as the power by which
consciousness tiie soui knows its own acts and states. The soul is aware
defined.
of the fleeting and transitory acts which it performs ; as
when it perceives, remembers, feels, and decides. It also knows its own
states ; as when it is conscious of a continued condition of intellectual
activity, a gay or melancholy mood of feeling, or a fixed and enduring
purpose. Whether the state is in such cases in fact prolonged, or only
repeated by successive renewals, we need not here inquire ; it is sufficient
that states of the soul are distinguished from its acts by their seeming
continuance.
The power by which the soul is made aware of what happens to it or takes
Applied to the place within itself — whether it is action or affection, doing or experiencing —
power and its f „ , x. „ . , . „ . ™-
acts. is called the power of consciousness, or, briefly, consciousness. We say
freely and properly, man is endowed with consciousness, or consciousness is
the feature by which he is distinguished from and elevated above the brutes. It might be
urged that it is more exact to apply the term to the exercise of the power, rather than to the
power itself. Thus we speak of an act of consciousness, through which we are distinctly aware
of a mental act or state. We also talk of an appeal to consciousness, in order that we may
decide whether an assertion concerning the soul is true. We intend in such language that the
soul, by its consciousness of the act, can discern and decide whether the affirmation is true. And
84 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 70.
yet it might be contended that in phrases of this kind, what is intended is the exercise or act
of the power or endowment called consciousness. So easily does one of these uses pass into
the other, and so readily is the name of the power applied to the exertion of the power. Of
such an interchange, and consequent ambiguity, we shall find many examples as we proceed.
consciousness § 68* Again, tae terms conscious and consciousness are ofteD
Ste knowledge aPP^e^ to anJ ac^ whatever of direct cognition, whether its
of any kind. object be internal or external. In other words, they are used
as equivalent to knowing, perceiving, etc., and to knowledge, perception,
etc. Thus we say, ' I was not conscious that you were in the room ; ' or,
' I was not conscious that he was speaking ; ' as well as, c I was not con-
scious of being angry.' In cases like these the terms designate an act of
simple perception or knowledge. The reason why they come to do so is,
that every act of knowledge, whatever be its nature or object, is attended
by consciousness. The phrase, c I was not conscious that you were in the
room,' is explained as meaning, ' I was not conscious of seeing you in the
room.' Especially are we said to be conscious, whenever our perception
or knowledge is distinct and clear.
Whether, in the strict and limited sense of the term, we can be conscious of the act without also being
aware of the object, and whether, consequently, we are properly said, in this sense, to be conscious of the
object, will be discussed further on (§ 82). It is sufficient here to notice that the words are often used for
distinct knowledge of any kind, especially for such a knowledge of sensible objects.
, .. , § 69. Consciousness is also employed as a collective term for
A collective term ° to
for aii the intei- all the intellectual states. In the words of Sir William
lectual states. , . ,. . , •
Hamilton, " it is a comprehensive term tor the complement
of our cognitive energies." Every such state or energy is attended by
consciousness ; it is an act or state of which we are conscious, or, as we
sometimes say, it is a conscious act or state. The sum-total of all such
acts is therefore expressively described as the consciousness of an individual.
It is equally true that we are conscious of our states of feeling, and all
these may be designated by the same general and comprehensive term,
though with somewhat less propriety. So, also, the various modes of the
soul's activity, whether we speak of what is actual or possible to an indi-
vidual or a class of men, or to the whole human race, are comprehended
under the. term ; as when we speak of the range of human consciousness
as equivalent to the states or modes of actual or possible human ex-
perience.
Some writers have borrowed from the German the phrases, ' the Christian consciousness,'
and the like, making consciousness, for the reason already given, to represent those beliefs and
feelings of which the Christian, or any other type of man, is conscious. All the acts and states
which are comprehended under this abstract designation have this common characteristic, that
we are conscious of them all. We therefore designate them all by this common feature.
,r A v • ,* , § 10. Consciousness is often figuratively described as the
Metaphorical def- ° .
tuitions of con- l witness ' of the states of the soul, as though it were an
■sciousness.
observer separate from the soul itself, inspecting and behold-
§ Y2. CONSCIOUSNESS. 85
ing its processes. It is called the ' inner light,' ' an inner illumination,' as
though a sudden flash or steady radiance could be thrown within the
spirit, revealing objects that would otherwise be indistinct, or causing
those to appear which would otherwise not be seen at all. Appellation*
like these are so obviously figurative, that it is surprising that any philoso-
pher should use them for scientific purposes, or should reason upon, or
use them with scientific rigor. However they are intended, they are
liable to this objection, that they often mislead the student by furnishing
him a sensuous picture, a pleasing fancy, or an attractive image, when he
needs an exact conception or a discriminated definition (cf. § 25).
Thus Cousin says (as translated by Henry) : " Consciousness is a witness which gives us
information of every thing which takes place in the interior of our own minds. It is not the
principle of any of our faculties, but is a light to them all."— Cousin's Psychology, chap. x.
Dr. Hickok, also : "If, instead of attempting to conceive consciousness as a distinct men-
tal faculty, . . .we will consider it under the analogy of an inner illuminatifon," &c. " The
conception is not of a faculty, but of a light ; not of an action, but of an illumination ; not
of a maker of phenomena, but of a revealer of them as already made by the appropriate intel-
lectual operation." — Empirical Psychology, Introduction, chap. iii. 2.
§ 71. The terms conscious and consciousness explain their
ofcoScSusnesf own meaning, and confirm the truth of the assumption and
belief that the fact implied by the language is to be received.
They describe a knowing with, or an attendant knowledge, and they imply
that the states of the human soul may be known by the soul to which
they pertain.
The power of the soul thus to know itself is often called the internal,
or the inner sense. This term is suggested by analogy. As the soul, by
the external sense or senses, apprehends the properties and qualities of
matter, so it is said to know its own states and powers by another, viz.,
an inner sense.
This analogy has been pushed by many to an extreme. It has been inferred, because, aa
the conditions of the apprehension of external objects and qualities, special sensations are
required, it therefore follows that there must be an analogous something in the spirit, preced-
ing the apprehension of internal operations ; that, because the power is called a sense, it must
experience g-wasi-sensations. Cf. Fries, Neue Kritih der Vernunft, vol. i. §§ 21-28.
§ 72. Consciousness is, for the same reason, also called by
whya)Ccaiied ' many philosophers, as Leibnitz, ad- or op-perception, by
which term the same fact is recognized that consciousness
implies, viz., a perception of the mind's own states, in addition to the per-
ception of the objects of those states.
Apperception is not, however, limited to this application, but is used
for any additional or added perception ; as, for example, of the real object
in addition to the image which represents the object. Apperception in this
sense is very near to the reflective, or secondary consciousness, to which we
shall advert hereafter.
86 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 73.
" Thus it is well to make a distinction between perception, which is the inner state of the monad,
representing external things, and apperception, which is consciousness, or the reflexive knowledge of this
interior state, which is not given to all souls, nor always to the same soul." Leibnitz. Of Nature, and
Grace, § 4, cf. Memoire sur V apperception de la prqpre existence.
It is worth while to notice that among the philosophers of the Leibnitzian school the word appercep-
tion is variously defined. Thus Christian "Wolf says : " Menti tribuitur apperceptio quatenus perceptionis
suae sibi conscia est.
" Apperceptionis nomine utitur Leibnitius : coincidit autem cum conscientia, quern terminum in prce-
senti negotio Cartesius adhibet."— Emp. Psych., V. i. sec. i. cap. ii. § 25.
But B. M. G. HanscMus, in his Leibnitii Princ. Phil., says, after defining apperception, Sec. cxi. :
;' Apperceptio includit claritatem reprsesentationis. Coroll. II. Omnis perceptio distincta, est apper-
ceptio."
It is interesting to observe how that, in these two distinct significations of apperception, we have the
precise counterpart of the two senses of consciousness as knowledge and clear knowledge. The solution is
well expressed by the remark of Wolf : " Omnis cogitatio et perceptionem et apperceptionem involvit."
The term Bewusstseyn, and its cognates in the Teutonic languages, recognizes rather the
distinct than the accompanying knowledge which consciousness makes prominent. .It de-
scribes a be-, rather than a cow-knowing ; i. e.3 the clear and completed knowledge which the
mind usually attains by a second and more attentive look. Hence it is with eminent propriety
applied to that knowledge which the soul has of its inner states, as this, to be of any service,
must be earnest and attentive. The word in German, however, is not so closely limited to this
internal knowledge, as is consciousness, in English. It is supplemented by self-consciousness
— Selbst-bewusstseyn. Hence sometimes, when we should use consciousness only, the German?
would say self-consciousness. Their more usual technical appellation for the power is the innej
or internal sense.
Not a little confusion of thought has resulted from the failure of some, not to say of mosl
translators, to notice that the proper meaning of Bewusstseyn, especially in compounds and
with prefixes, is knowledge rather than consciousness ; e. g., Gottesbewusstseyn is not so well
translated by the ' consciousness of God,' as by the ' intuition of God,' or ' the direct ana
necessary knowledge of God.' Cf. Biunde, Versuch. d. emp. Psych., B. i. § 49.
. ' g 73. Reflection is the appellation used by Locke for this
dnfined ectd°n ad Power 5 or' more exactly, it is under this appellation that he
by Locke. discusses its nature and authority. Hence, among many
English writers reflection is freely used as the exact equivalent of con-
sciousness. It is the great and distinctive merit of Locke to have called
attention to it as a separate source of knowledge, and to have claimed for
the knowledge which it furnishes equal authority and certainty with that
which is received through the senses. That Locke did not originate the
term, nor the conception which the term denotes, is established decisively
by Hamilton (Met., Lee. 13). Locke's language is worth quoting for the
clearness with which he expresses his doctrine, as well as for the impor-
tance of the passage in relation to the history of psychological and philo-
sophical opinions :
" The other fountain from which experience furnisheth the understanding with ideas, is
the perception of the operations of our own minds within us, as it is employed about the ideas
which it has got ; which operations, when the soul comes to reflect on and consider, do fur-
nish the understanding with another set of ideas, which could not bo had from things without ;
and such are perception, thinking, doubting, believing, reasoning, knowing, trilling, and all the
different actings of our own minds ; which we, being conscious of, and observing in ourselves,
do from these receive into our understandings as distinct ideas as we do from bodies affecting
§ *74. CONSCIOUSNESS. Si
our senses. This source of ideas every man has wholly in himself ; and though it be not
sense, as having nothing to do with external objects, yet it is very like it, and might properly
enough be called internal sense. But as I call the other, sensation, so I call this, reflection, the
ideas it affords .being such only as the mind gets by reflecting on its own operations within
itself." — Essay, Book ii. chap. i. § 4.
The passage quoted, has been a fruitful text for controversy in respect to many questions. The only
luostions, however, with which we are at present concerned, are (1.) whether Locke distinguishes conscious-
ness from reflection ? and (2.) if so, does he define the relation of one to the other ? To the first, we answer :
that Locke uses the terms consciousness, and reflection, in separate passages, no one can deny who reads
the following passages— Essay, B. ii. c. 27, § 9 ; c. i. § 19 ; c. i. § 24 ; c. 10, § 5 ; c. i. § 4. He says
distinctly, "Consciousness is the perception of what passes in a man's own mind." He insists most ear-
nestly that the soul cannot he active without being conscious of its activity. " No man can be wholly
ignorant of what he does when he thinks." "Whenever he has occasion to speak of the power which
gives us ideas of our operations, he invariably uses the term reflection. The reason is obvious from his
own words as quoted above — " which operations, when the soul comes to reflect on and consider, do furnish
the understanding with another set of ideas." In other words, though we cannot but be conscious of every
act of thought, or, as elsewhere explained, of every state of the soul, yet it is only when we reflect or con-
sider these that we gain ideas of them. To the second question we answer : that Locke nowhere in form
defines the relation of consciousness to reflection. It never seems to have occurred to him that they are
related, or that he ought to explain what their relations are. The questions which, since his time, have
assumed so great interest and importance, did not present themselves to his mind. From the use which he
makes of these terms, however, we are fully authorized to derive the following as a just statement of the
opinions which he would have expressed had his attention been called to the relation of consciousness to
reflection : In order to gain ideas or permanent knowledge of the mind, we must use a certain power with
reflection and consideration. But the power itself is not created or first exercised by or in such acts or
efforts. These are but exercises of this power in a given way and energy. The power itself is the capacity
of the mind to know its acts or states. This power is consciousness, which Locke himself has defined to be
" the perception of what passes in a man's own mind," and without which man never thinks at all. "When
this power is used in a peculiar way, and with energy or concentration enough to secure a certain effect, it
becomes reflection. Reflection is therefore consciousness intensified by attention. Inasmuch, however,
as the power is rarely referred to except as giving the results of actual knowledge, reflection is the word by
which it is usually known.
§ 74. Consciousness is exercised in two forms or species of
activity™8 ° lts activity, viz., the natural or spontaneous, and the artificial or
reflective. They are also called by some writers the primary
and the secondary consciousness. The one form is possessed by all men ;
the other is attained by few. The first is a gift of Nature and product of
spontaneous growth; the second is an accomplishment of art and the
reward of special discipline. The natural precedes the reflective in the order
of time and of actual development. But it does not differ from it in kind,
only in an accidental element, which brings its results within our reach
and retains them for our service. This is the general conception which
we form of both, as preliminary to the special consideration of each.
Consciousness, like every other kind of knowledge, can be exercised with varying degrees
of energy. In other words, it can be accompanied with more or less attention. The degrees
of attention with which it is exercised by different persons at different periods in different
conditions of life, and under the aids and excitements of education and culture, are exceed-
ingly numerous, and distinguished by shades of difference that readily run into one another.
They are measured by a scale of more extensive range than can be applied to the varying
energies of any other human endowment. Men differ more widely in respect to the energy
and effect with which they use this power, than in respect to any other.
The capacity to attend to the psychical states in the lowest appreciable degree — i. e., with
that energy which leaves any permanent product or result for the memory or imagination is
88 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § ^5.
matured by the slow education of infancy and childhood (§ 86). During this period, even
under the most favorable circumstances, the growth and development of consciousness is
steady, but slow. Under the influence of moral and religious stimulus it is oftentimes brought
Lo striking maturity in persons who, in other respects, have little culture. Not unfrequently
its development is carried to a morbid excess.
"Where consciousness is energized by attention, and applied to psychical phenomena for
scientific purposes in the interest of psychological science, it is called the secondary, the arti-
ficial, the philosophical or reflective consciousness, or simply, reflection. As such, it is distin-
guished from and contrasted with the primary, the natural, the common, the unreflecting con-
sciousness, or simply, consciousness. The division indicated by these contrasted terms is
convenient and important. It should always be remembered, however, that the two so-called
species of consciousness do not differ from one another in kind, but in degree, and that there
is no well-defined and sharp line of distinction that divides off the one from the other. Nor
should it be forgotten that the so-called natural consciousness, or consciousness as possessed
and used by adults of average culture in an intelligent community, is the result of growth
and the product of culture (§ 86). The power and habit of attentively apprehending one's
own psychical states exists in such persons in various degrees of energy and perfection. The
several stages of the growth of the natural consciousness are sometimes indicated by terms
ranging from the lower toward the higher points in the scale, as, self-feeling, consciousness,
consciousness of the ego, self-consciousness. These appellations are artificial and technical,
which have scarcely been received into current use, or taken a precise import.
In treating of consciousness, we begin with what we called the natural or primary con-
sciousness. We shall first treat of the elements which are essential to this form of knowledge,
with whatever degree of energy it may be exerted, and afterward treat of its growth and
development.
Natural con- 8 75. We begin with natural, or primary consciousness.
dciousness defin- " . . . .
ed as an act. .Natural consciousness is the power which the mind naturally
Necessary to all .. /?!••, n i
acts. and necessarily possesses of knowing its own acts and states.
It may be further described by considering it in its operations and its
objects, or as consciousness the act, and consciousness the object.
We begin with consciousness the act. As an act, it is a necessary and
essential constituent of many active conditions of the soul. The soul can-
not know, without knowing that it knows. It cannot feel, without know-
ing that it feels ; nor can it desire, will, and act, without knowing that it
desires, wills, and acts.
It is held by many psychologists that there arc states of the soul of which we are not con-
scious. Others hold that we are conscious of all its activities. We do not discuss the question here,
but reserve it for future consideration (§ 87). For our present purpose, it is enough to assert,
as all will agree, that there are many acts of which we are naturally and necessarily conscious.
An act of knowi- Consciousness is an act of knowledge, and is therefore an
rcMi0nrol^nd act purely and simply intellectual— an exercise of the intel-
product. ject only. The states observed may be psychical, i. <?.,
indifferently states of intellect, sensibility, or will— but the act by which
they are known is intellectual only. It is an act of direct or intuitive
knowledge. To attain it, neither memory nor reasoning are required, nor
any indirect process or succession of acts, but the soul immediately knows
§ 75. NATUKAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 89
its present condition or act. It confronts it face to face. It knows it as
now existing. It is eminently presentative knowledge.
Consciousness, as an act of knowledge, is matured into, or results in a
peculiar product. When it is complete, it furnishes for the mind's recall
an idea of the object known. This is a purely intellectual result. What the
mind is conscious of may be a state of knowledge, feeling, or choice, but
the mind's consciousness of feeling or choice, as a product or result which
it retains and recalls, is not feeling or choice, but the idea or image of
either. The feeling and choice which we recall is not a feeling or choice,
but our idea or image of a feeling or choice, and this is purely intellectual.
This is very important to be considered for a correct theory of representa-
tion. As an act of knowledge, it involves the discernment of relations
(§ 49). We know the state to be our own ; i. e., we discern its relation
to ourselves. We know that the present is not the past state of the soul ;
i. e., we know the two under the relations of contrast and of time. Again,
the knowing agent distinguishes itself as the conscious observer from
itself and its own states as the object observed. While it knows the
states which it observes, to be its own, it discriminates the object observed
from itself, the observer, and from its own act of observation. Thus it
fulfils the conditions wrhich have been laid down as common to every act
of knowledge, that it is at once an act of analytic separation and synthetic
union. The object thus discriminated from and by the observer becomes,
when it is discriminated wdth sufficient attention, a separate product for
the mind's retention and recall, or furnishes material for the representative
power under its several forms of phantasy, memory, and imagination.
The act of consciousness is a peculiar intellectual act — an act
in its conditions', that is preeminently sui generis. Especially is it peculiar in
the conditions of its exercise. To most of the other acts of
knowledge it is required that their objects should exist before they are
known. But in this peculiar process the object and act are blended in one.
Thus, the landscape on which I gaze is a permanent object, to which I can bring and from
which I can withdraw my mind. The thought or feeling which I remember must have been
experienced in order that it may be known a second time. It is rashly concluded by many
that this is a necessary and universal condition of all knowledge. Hence it is argued, that the
act of consciousness is impossible because it is inconceivable and irrational. It violates, as is
objected, the first and essential requirement, that something should have existed, in order to
be known. ' How can I know that I know,' it is urged, ' unless I have first known, in order
to furnish an object for me to know ? ' Or it is concluded that consciousness is, at best, but a
kind of memory, an act that immediately follows the act or state of which we are said to be
conscious. " No one," says Herbert Spencer, " is conscious of what he is, but of what he was a
moment before. That which thinks, can never be the object of direct contemplation ; seeing
that, to be this, it must become that which is thought of, not that which thinks. It is impos-
sible to be at the same time that which regards and that which is regarded." Principle*
of Psychology, Part i. chap. i. p. 40. Cf. F. Bowen, Essays, pp. 131, 2. Merian, sur V Apper-
ception, etc. The force of this objection is in the pure assumption, that every thing which is
90 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 77.
known must have already existed. But this assumption is unauthorized. It is derived from
a supposed analogy between this and other acts of knowledge. It by no means follows,
because the landscape must have existed before we see it, or the mental state must have
occurred before we remember it, that a perception or feeling must be past before we can be
conscious of it. Whatever we experience of a mode of knowing, must be real, whether it is
iike or unlike any other, provided only that we are sure that we have to do with facts, not with
fancies. Besides, how can one remember that which he did not know at the time when it
occurred ? How can one recall the state in which he was a moment before, and know that he
was in that state, if he did not know he was in that state at the precise and passing instant ?
Those that resolve acts of consciousness into acts of memory, make memory itself impossible,
however closely it is said to follow the act which is remembered. We cannot recall the act
itself, nor that it was our own act, unless we knew both, when the act occurred.
Peculiar in the § ^6* ^ *s a^so °l>jecte<3, tnat tne veiT language by which we
wh?chUftgis de- seek t0 describe an act of consciousness, proves the act itself
scribed. to be impossible. The act of knowing, it is said, is ex-
pressed by one phrase, and the object known by another. They cannot,
therefore, coincide in a single mental state or experience, as is demon-
strated by the very terms in which we seek to describe the impossible phe-
nomenon. The phenomenon is, therefore, refuted by the logical incompati-
bility of the terms which describe it. To this it is sufficient to reply, that
when we say we know that we know, we neither assert nor imply that
the act of knowing is separable in time from the object known. We
employ two phrases, indeed, as we often employ separate words to designate
what we distinguish in thought, which is yet undistinguished in time.
It is a most important maxim in philosophy, without which we may almost say it is im-
possible to prosecute philosophical analysis of any kind with effect and success, that there are
very many objects which we can distinguish in thought and describe by separate words and
phrases, which cannot be separated in fact. Thus we distinguish the length from the breadth
of a superficies ; but both belong to it, and if one is absent, neither the other, nor the super-
ficies itself, can have any being, nor can either be logically supposable. We also distinguish
the color from the extension, and both from the hardness of a material body ; but neither can
exist, nor can either be apprehended apart. The truth and importance of this maxim we are
not yet prepared to discuss. It can only be fully appreciated and justified after a profound
and subtle inquiry into the nature of all analysis. But the examples cited permit a sufficient
answer to the objection, that language and thought prove the act of consciousness to bo impos-
sible and self-contradictory.
Here, too, we may apply the principle already recognized, that the language by which wo
describe mental acts and states was originally applied to the properties and energies of mate-
rial objects. When, therefore, we would express or describe the peculiar act by which the
soul knows itself, we must use phrases, and, it may be, figures of speech, which were first
applied to matter and sensible things. The associations and expectations which are proper
to the one species of knowledge, should never be allowed to disturb our faith in the other.
Least of all should an objection derived from the mere forms and figures of language occasion
the slightest difficulty in receiving a well-accredited and an experienced fact.
§ 77. From the consideration of consciousness the act, we
c°^tiousness pass ^0 consciousness the object. The object of consciousness
has already been defined to be an act or state of the soul ;
§ 78. NATUEAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 91
more exactly, the soul acting and suffering in an individual state. Thai
such an object should be peculiar and unlike any other, we are prepared to
believe, by what we have already noticed under consciousness as an act.
Other peculiarities will reveal themselves to a closer inspection.
We observe, in general, that the phenomena of the soul are
Psychical states, Unlike the phenomena of matter in this, that they are given
complex objects. -1- . , .
to observation as essentially complex even in their greatest
simplicity. We cite some examples of sense-phenomena. We observe the
flying of an arrow, the shooting of a star, the melting of gold, the singing
of a bird, the odor of a flower. What we know in these cases by direct
intuition, is an event or phenomenon which afterward, by a reflective pro-
cess, we refer to some substance or subject, and in which we detect cer-
tain necessary relations to space. The flying, the shooting, the meltiug,
the singing, we refer to some being to which they belong. That which is
necessarily discerned by the senses, is the phenomenon itself as a simple
event, on which the mind may rest without contemplating it under any
other relation. But phenomena of the soul can never be known by con-
sciousness as simple. Every state or condition of the spirit is in its real
nature, and must be actually known by the soul, to be complex, even in its
extremest simplicity. This object is threefold in its elements, every one of
which must be recognized by the conscious spirit. The elements are, the
identical ego, either agent or patient according as the case may be; the
object with respect to which it acts or suffers ; and the present state or
action in which it exists or acts. Every psychical state of which we are
conscious implies an acting or existing ego, to which the state pertains. A
condition of the soul without an individual person acting or feeling, is
impossible as a conception, and is never experienced as a fact. Again, this
ego is known to be in a definite form or condition of action or suffering.
The states are transient, the agent remains. The states are as fleeting and
as transitory as the flying moments ; indeed, they come and go more
swiftly than any instants which we can count ; the individual self remains
unchanged, referring all these changes to itself. Again, the ego, in its
acting and suffering, is concerned with some object. It must have some
object to be employed upon, either material or mental. One state is as
often distinguished from another by its object, as by any thing beside.
These are the elements which make up that complex whole wThich we call
the object of consciousness.
Relation of con- § ^8» It is a natural question, What is the relation of con-
eacT51©? these sciousness to each of these essential constituents, as com-
eiements. bined together in one general view, or as each calls forth
special and separate attention ? To this question we give this general
preliminary answer : The soul, in consciousness, is directly cognizant of all
these elements, as entering into every one of its states. It knows them
as distinguishable from one another, and yet as, in their union, consti-
U2 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 78.
luting a single whole. The whole is constituted of all these elements ;
each as related to each and every other make up a state of the soul. To
any such state one element is as necessary as another, and one relation
is as necessary as another to the conception and as essential to the fact.
Of these elements and these relations the soul is equally cognizant.
Here we observe that, in an act of direct or intuitive knowledge like consciousness, it is as
essential that the connecting bonds should be apprehended, as the parts which they bind or
connect. In abstract or logical knowledge, the parts are considered separately, and to each
we assign a separate word or phrase ; but in real knowledge the parts are viewed together.
The verbal expression of a mental state is not a single word, as /, perceive [or] love, this apple,
each apprehended apart, and then somehow aggregated into a phrase or proposition ; but it is
a finished proposition, in all its parts and relations, as, I perceive [or love] this apple. In
other words, we can analyze or separate only what the concrete or real presents in union. If
the parts and connecting relations are not discerned together by an intuitive act, they can
neither be separated nor united by any other act or process. The objects known by conscious-
ness are intuitively known. All the materials which mediate or abstract knowledge evolves
from these objects, the objects must be known already to involve.
Herbart, and the psychologists of his school, deserve especial notice in this connection. This philoso-
pher contends that it is by no means essential to every mental act or state that it should be distinguished
as agent, act, and object. On the other hand, he insists that the reference of an act or state to the ego as
the subject of it can only occur at a later and more advanced period of the mind's growth and development.
It is the doctrine of his school that the knowledge of such an ego or subject is itself a product which is slowly
developed and matured out of the materials that are furnished in previous mental experiences and states.
Last of all, and as consistent with and fundamental to their other positions, they teach that every ele-
mentary mental state is simple in its nature, and is the joint result of the mind itself as a simple substance
and the occasion which calls it forth.
It might seem at the first view that these opinions cannot justly be ascribed to the influence of material
analogies, for, against these, the Herbartian school endeavors to secure itself by a principled opposition.
They seem to rest rather on Herbart's peculiar logical or metaphysical system, which resolves all beings,
both spiritual and corporeal, into ultimate elements or monads, the various relations of which to one
auother are to be so determined as to be freed from all contradiction. Conjoined with this are certain
assumptions in respect to the conditions and laws of mental phenomena, both in original apprehension
and reproduction, which exclude the possibility of the complex character which we assume to be the neces-
sary condition of every mental state.
But while it is true that Herbart is professedly and distinctly an anti-materialist, it would not be diffi-
cult to show that both his metaphysical system and his psychological analyses were formed under a strong
desire to apply to mental phenomena the principles and laws on which the physical and mathematical
sciences are founded. Indeed, it might be shown that the Herbartian psychology furnishes the most
striking example, because it is at once the most consistent and complete of all similar systems, of the influ-
ence of assumptions derived from physical philosophy. While it aims to recognize and do justice to the
facts and phenomena that are peculiar to the soul— while it distinctly recognizes spiritual phenomena as
opposed to the material and physiological conditions on which they depend— it does, by the principles and
laws which it applies to their explanation, in fact exclude and rule out the very features which most strik-
ingly distinguish the phenomena of spirit from the phenomena of matter. Those powers and operations of
the soul, on the other hand, which are most nearly allied to those of matter, are accepted as explaining all
the rest; which are resolved into and reduced back to these as furnishing both their constituent elements
and their law-giving formula;.
It is here in place to notice Herbart's doctrine concerning the simplicity of all original mental
states, and the subsequent evolution, from such states, of the ego as their subject. We argue that this
doctrine cannot be true, on the ground that, if it were, the act of memory would be impossible. An act of
remembrance implies that a present state is connected with a past by the distinct knowledge that the same
ego was the subject of both, and that this ego has continued to exist and be the subject of other states during
the interval of time which has separated the two. By the theory of nerbart, memory would be impossible
until the mind had attained to the knowledge of the self, as distinguished from, and yet as the subject of,
its various separate states ; and also had connected those states together, as pertaining to an identical subject.
On the other hand, the knowledge of the ego must itself depend on memory, and could not be developed
without it ; for how could it be that the various states could be presented in such a way as to evolve the sel.
§80. NATTTKAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 93
and not self, and even the body and the not body, the ego and not ego, unless the states -were in some way
connected together by some thread or bond of continuity, and thus so blended or complicated together as t<s
form wholes and parts ? Herbart would reply, that the soul is a simple entity or substance, and that it k
its simplicity which makes it possible that various objects or stimuli should be united in a single state. But
how does the mind know itself to be simple or in a state, unless it can distinguish itself from its states 1 or
how can it know its states, each as one, and all as following each other, unless it knows that its states be-
long to itself— i. e., unless it distinguish its states from itself. In the order that marks either of these distinc-
tions, it must first know that these states are true of itself— i. e., it must go so far as to distinguish itself at leasl
from its own acts. This must be done by an original apprehension, or it cannot be done at all. No combina-
tion of elements not already present, no repetition or addition of such elements, can account for or explain
the presence of what is acknowledged in the later stage of mental development. They, must, therefore, hav«
certainly been originally present, and may be set down as the essential constituents of every mental state.
Th i i ents § ^* ^u* though these elements are always recognized in
not always view- eVery object of which we are conscious — i. e., in every con-
ed with equal jo > J
attention. scious mental state — they are not regarded with equal atten-
tion. At one time one is foremost in our notice, and seems to draw to
itself the entire energy of the conscious act ; at another time another ele-
ment is more distinctly apprehended. According as one or other of these
elements receives the chief attention and is most absorbing, so is each
state of consciousness definitely and peculiarly marked. It is worth while
to notice how more or less of the recognized prominence of any one of
these elements gives a peculiar character to the psychical state as observ-
ing and as observed. We will consider the influence of each of these ele-
ments singly and apart.
8 80. First, let the souFs own activity be the special object
The activity may ° . _ . Jl . x. , . ,
be chiefly no- oi its own conscious observation. We begin with this, be-
cause all concede that this must be apprehended. Indeed,
many contend that this is the sole object of the conscious act.
The soul's own acts and states are continually changing, and if it is
aware of any thing, it is aware of each present state or condition in which
it finds itself. With this material or object-matter it is preeminently
occupied. These it observes and remembers, and, if need be, classifies
and records. Whether it knows itself or not, it must know its own acting
and suffering. The states come and go, they rise and fall, they are vary-
ing and restless as the waves of the ocean, each pushing forward the one
that went before. The ego, if it is known at all, is known as persistent,
intractable, identical. Moreover, these states are the products of its own
energy, or the suffering or joyful experiences of its own sensibility. What
can it be conscious of, if it knows not these ? Whether they are called
states of knowledge, feeling, or will, each separate state is distinguished by
a separate apprehension. For these reasons ifc will not be doubted that the
operation or state of the soul is the appropriate object of consciousness —
is the central element, the element par eminence, if the object is believed
to be complex ; the sole object, if the object is conceded to be simple.
The fact that in consciousness we are observant of the soul's subjective state, was first distinctly
noticed and forcibly stated by Locke. Descartes, before him, had recognized and emphasized the truth thai
through consciousness we are as distinctly cognizant of spiritual phenomena as we are of physical facts by
cense. But it was Locke who asserted and emphasized the circumstance that what the mind apprehends
94 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §80.
by this power, i. e., reflection, is the soul's operations, and that it is of these operations, and only of these,
that it gains the determinate ideas which he calls the ideas of reflection. To these operations Locke gave ex-
clusive attention, including under them the feelings as well as the acts, (Essay ii. § 4,) overlooking their re-
lations to the agent and the object. Since the time of Locke, it has passed into a positive dogma, that the
soul in consciousness cognizes the operation only, and nothing besides. Thus Hume says: "For my part, when
I enter most intimately into what I call myself, I always stumble on some particular perception or other, of
heat or cold, light or shade, love or hatred, pain or pleasure. I never can catch myself at any time without
a perception, and never can observe anything but the perception." — Human Nature, Part iv. sec. 2. "If any
one, upon serious and unprejudiced reflection, thinks he has a different notion of himself, I must confess I
can no longer reason with him. . . . He may, perhaps, perceive something simple and continued, which
he calls himself, though I am certain there is no such principle in me." Dr. Thomas Reid says : " I am con-
scious of perception, but not of the object I perceive ; 1 am conscious of memory, but not of the object I
remember." But he guards himself against the conclusion drawn by Hume from their common assumption,
by insisting that, though consciousness does not give us the intuition of self, yet we have a firm belief of
the reality of the self, through a native and necessary suggestion, for " our sensations and thoughts do
also suggest the notion of a mind, and the belief of its existence and of its relation to our thoughts."— In-
quiry, chap. ii. § 7. Dugald Stewart says : " "We are conscious of sensation, thought, desire, volition, but we
are not conscious of the existence of the mind itself. This is made known to us by a suggestion of the
understanding consequent on the sensation, but so intimately connected with it that it is not surprising
that our belief of both should be generally referred to the same origin."— Phil. Essays, p. i. e. i. Dr. Thomas
Brown says of a special sensation, as of fragrance: " There will be, in the first momentary state, no separation
of self audi the sensation, no little proposition formed in the mind— I feel, or, I am conscious of a feeling, but
the feeling and the sentient I, will for the moment, be the same. If the remembrance of the former feeling
arise, and the two different feelings be considered by the mind at once, it will now, by that irresistible law
of our nature which impresses us with the conviction of our identity, conceive the two sensations which it
recognizes as different in themselves, to have belonged to the same human being— that being to which,
when it has the use of language, it gives the name of self, and in relation to which it speaks as often as it
uses the pronoun I."— Lecture xi. Hamilton says : " On the other hand, as there exists no intuitive or imme-
diate knowledge of self as the absolute subject of thought, feeling and desire, but, on the contrary, there is
only possible a deduced, relative and secondary knowledge of self as the permanent basis of these transient
modifications of which we are directly conscious, it follows," &c— Notes on Eeid, (H.,) p. 29, 6. This doctrine
is entirely consistent with Hamilton's doctrine of the relativity of our knowledge, however incon-
sistent it may be with other separate propositions or reasonings of Hamilton's.— Cf. Met. Lee. 19, ore Mental
Unity. Mansel dissents from Hamilton on this point. See Proleg. Log.c.v. " I am immediately conscious of
myself, seeing and hearing, willing and thinking." James Mill agrees with Brown etc.: " To say that I am
conscious of a feeling, is merely to say that I feel it. To have a feeling is to be conscious, and to be con-
scious is to have a feeling. To be conscious of the prick of a pin, is merely to have the sensation."— Analysis
of the Human Mind, Chap. v. But he corrects himself in another passage, as follows : " The consciousness
of the present moment is not absolutely simple, for whether I have a sensation or an idea, the idea of what
I call myself is always inseparably combined with it. The consciousness, then, of the second of the two
moments in the case supposed, [the case of remembering a preceding state,] is the sensation combined with
the idea of myself, which compound I call ' myself sentient, ' " &c— Id. Chap. x. John Stuart Mill says, in
the same strain : " My mind is but a series of feelings," and defines it as, "a thread of consciousness;" •• a
series of feelings with a back- ground of possibilities of feeling."— Exam, of the Phil, of Hamilton, c. 12 ; cf.
System of Logic, B. i. C. iii. § 8.
The psychologists of the school of Condillac have followed in the same direction with the English suc-
cessors of Locke, and have denied altogether that the soul is directly conscious of any thing besides its ope-
rations. Those taught in the Scottish school, like Boyer Collard, have adopted the views expressed by Reid
and Stewart, with this difference, that what these writers ascribe to suggestion, or its equivalent, Collard
refers to natural induction. The more modern school of Cousin and his eclectic disciples, follow Maine de
Biran in asserting that the soul has a direct consciousness of the ego, as well as of the ego in some form of
activity or suffering. This is one of their cardinal and distinctive tenets. De Biran derived his views from
the suggestions of Leibnitz, and this circumstance connects the schools of France with those of Germany.
The German psychologists have, with the exceptions to be stated hereafter, agreed with Leibnitz in
asserting that the soul knows not only its states, but itself as their subject in feeling and their agent in pro-
ducing them. In the unity of self-consciousness the soul knows itself as well as its acts and states. "Without
this reference of the states of the soul to the ego which is the subject of them, consciousness is inconceivable
and impossible. Kant asserts this as a fact of our experience and a necessity of our nature as earnestly as
any one, even though he questions the validity of the knowledge which is thus made necessary to the mind.
He is entirely outspoken and confident when 2ie testifies concerning the facts which we experience, even
though he finds metaphysical reasons for di&t/usting what we are certain that we distinguish and know. It
Is true that this self of the " inner state," „i which, according to Kant, we are conscious, is only known as a
phenomenon, and cannot (as indeed nothing can, according to his system) be known as it is in itself."
Bcneke and Herbart are the most noticeable exceptions to this general characteristic of the Germaj
§81. NATUKAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 95
psychologists, and of these, Herhart has been most conspicuous in sturdily and even scornfully rejecting the
doctrines on this subject that are usually received. Indeed, his views in respect to consciousness itself,
would change completely our fundamental notions of the science of the soul, and require that in its methods
of inquiry and the sources of its knowledge it should be entirely reconstructed. Herbart rejects entirely the
opinion that the soul can be at the same time the observing agent and the observed object. He insists that this
is logically contradictory, and metaphysically impossible. He therefore denies that the soul knows its own
states in any proper sense of being directly aware of them when they occur. "What we call consciousness,
is but reflective memory. Much more, therefore, must Herbart reject, as he does most contemptuously, the
doctrine that the soul refers these states to the ego or the personal and identical self. He insists that the
belief of the ego, and even the very conception of the ego as the subject of the psychical states, is an after-
thought, the mature product of comparison and reflection, gained not by suggestion, nor by deduction,
nor by a necessary and original law, but reached by comparison and analogy.
§ 81. Second. Of the ego itself we are also directly con-
Consciousness of scious. Not only are we conscious of the varying states and
the ego. * * °
conditions, but we know them to be our own states ; i. 6.,
each individual observer knows his changing individual states to belong to
his individual self, or to himself, the individual. The states we know as
varying and transitory. The self we know as unchanged and permanent.
It is of the very nature and essence of a psychical state to
naturIeof a psy- be the act or experience of an individual ego. We are not
first conscious of the state or operation, and then forced to
look around for a something to which it is to be referred, or to which it
may belong ; but what we know, and as we know it, is the state of an
individual person. A mental state which is not produced or felt by an
individual self, is as inconceivable as a triangle without three angles, or a
square without four sides. This relation of the act or state to the self is
not inferred, but is directly known.
If it were not directly known, it could not be indirectly
If not known, . . J . J
could not be in- believed or inferred. What we infer and conclude is, in
ferred,
some cases, the product, or the educt, or result, of the mind's
activity in comparing and inferring ; but we cannot conceive how that the
soul should conclude or infer operations and states to belong to itself the
observer, if it did not know this by direct inspection.
The fact of memory proves it beyond all dispute. In every
Proved by every act 0f memory we know or believe that the object now re-
act of memory. r «>
called was formerly before the mind ; in other words, I, the
person remembering, did previously know or experience that which I now
recall. But how could this be possible, if the first act or state was not
known, when it occurred, to belong to the same ego which now recalls it
and must have existed and have known itself to exist during the interven-
ing time ? This same ego must have known or been conscious that the
state was its own when it occurred ; otherwise it could never have remem-
bered this state. But again, many acts of memory are required in order
to gather the past operations or states together, before they are inferred
to belong to one substance or substratum. In order to infer, we must
have remembered ; and in order to remember, or rather in the act of
remembering, we must have believed the very thing which we are said to
06 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §82.
infer. Nor is it true that, on occasion of many of these operations, tho
reality of the subject of these operations is suggested or provided under a
necessary law of the intelligence or reason ; for how could these opera-
tions be recalled without memory ? and memory, as we have seen, implies
the constant reassertion of the very knowledge which is in question.
It will be found, moreover, that all those writers who deny or doubt this, do yet inci-
Admitted by dentally betray their faith in the reality which they by words or reasonings oppose,
those who deny Dr. Brown, who is so earnest in opposing it, cannot thread together the several experiences
"• of the soul's life, without resorting to " the irresistible law of our nature which impresses
us with the conviction of our identity," and James Mill himself is forced in one sentence
to confess what he stoutly denied in another ; " for whether I have a sensation or an idea, the idea of what
I call myself, is always inseparably combined with it." These are more or less distinct expressions for the
direct knowledge of the ego which enters as an essential constituent into every conscious state of the soul.
When we assert that the soul is conscious of itself, the actor, as truly as of its states or
The relations to acj.Sj we ^y no means assert that it makes the ego an object of attention or reflective
ways^° reflected thought, or that it gains a scientific knowledge of its states or of its powers. Both these
on. kinds of knowledge are reserved for a higher development and exercise of consciousness
itself, as will be seen in its place.
It has already been observed, that the knowledge of the self, or the ego, which is essentially involved in
natural consciousness, is also susceptible of various degrees, which range from the feeblest and most rudi-
mentary cognition which the soul can possibly have of itself, up to the most intense self-consciousness which
can be reached by the most attentive introspection. The consciousness of the self, or ego, as it admits of
various gradations, is also capable of development and growth, not in the sense that the ego, or self, is the
product of a certain stage of the progress of intelligence so as not to have existed before, but that it is
revealed to the mind more distinctly and in more numerous relations, as the requisite attention is applied.
Least of all do we assert that the soul is directly conscious of that, in its
The Ego, not the being or substance, which fits it to be the common ground or substratum of
whole substance . , . , „ .x T . , , , . , . . Al ,
of the soul. its physical as well as its psychical phenomena, or which explains the rela-
tions of the two. Consciousness knows nothing of the hidden relations
of the soul to the body. Facts and relations of this sort are not given to consciousness at all,
nor are they open to the soul's direct intuition. But whatever theory may be framed in
respect to the substance of the soul, whether it be believed to be material or spiritual, the fact
remains unquestioned that it knows its states to be its own, and in this knowledge knows
itself as the subject of them. Whatever relation this known ego has to this imagined sub-
stratum or essence, the fact remains unquestioned that the ego, as a being, is directly known
to and by itself as a knowing agent. So far, and so far only, does consciousness testify.
§ 82. Third, we inquire still further, What are the relations
consciousness of 0f consciousness to the objects of the psychical acts and
the object. « . , . .
states ? Is the soul conscious of the objects as truly as it is
of the states themselves ? When I gaze upon a landscape, and am de-
lighted, am I conscious of the landscape which I see, as truly as I am con-
scious of the act of seeing and of the delight which it gives ? It is con-
tended by some that we are as truly and as properly said to be conscious
of the object as of the subjective state. Others urge that it is a gross
impropriety to say that we are conscious of the landscape, except in the
general sense in which we use conscious as the equivalent of knowing. (§ 68.)
The truth is, that we are conscious of the object somewhat as we are
conscious of the ego. The state or operation is the central object of ap-
prehension ; but as the state cannot occur nor be known except as having
§ 83. NATURAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 91
a relation to the unchanging ego, so each separate state is rendered deter*
minate in part by its object. This is especially true if the state be pre-
eminently a state of knowledge. We distinguish one state of knowledge
from another by what we know ; e. </., in one moment I perceive a tree,
in another a house, etc. How can I be conscious that I perceive a house
or a tree, except by noticing the relation of the act itself to the house or
tree?
We do not say that the whole difference of a psychical state is thus determined ; for, to
see a house may, purely as an act of knowledge, differ from the act of discerning that two
straight lines cannot enclose a space. Besides, an act of knowledge never can occur by itself,
pure and separate from all feeling, desire, and will. States of feeling and will are known to
be purely subjective, and to pertain to the soul itself, and to the soul alone. These subjective
elements attract the notice of consciousness preeminently, and these mark and individualize
them to the soul's memory. But when they are described in language or recalled to the
thoughts by an explicit statement, they are described by their objects. Even the state of the
most absorbed feeling is indicated by the object or event which excited the emotion. We
say, ' I was conscious that I saw the tree, or clearly discerned the mathematical truth,' or, ' I
was conscious of keen and rapturous delight from the view or the anticipation.' We cannot
conceive it possible that we should know that we know, enjoy, or choose, without knowing
what we know, enjoy, or choose. In other words, in being conscious of an act or state, we
must be conscious of the state or act in relation to, and as therefore including the object.
From the fact that we cannot be conscious of the operation without being conscious of its relation to
the object, Hamilton reasons thus : " Consequently consciousness is not a special faculty, but a faculty
comprehending every cognitive act, or it must be held that there is a double knowledge of every object-
first, the knowledge of that object by its particular faculty, and second, a knowledge of it by consciousness
as taking cognizance of every mental operation."— Met. Lee. 12. To this we may reply, the dilemma is
avoided by conceding that in every case of the kind adduced, viz.: in every act of sense-perception, we
perceive the table or ink-stand, and we know, i. e., we are conscious, that we perceive the ink-stand. These
two acts are distinguishable in thought, though not separable in fact. This Hamilton himself concedes and
contends for. But we cannot perceive the table, without recognizing some relation of the act to the object.
Nor can we be conscious of the act of perception, without being aware of some relation of tbe object perceived
to the act of perceiving. When the chief energy of attention is expended upon the object— the material
object — not without some recognition of its correlate, the act of perceiving, then we have, as nearly as -possi-
ble, a pure act of sense-perception. But when the mind is mainly concerned with the act, not to the entire
exclusion of the object, then tbe act is as nearly as possible an act of pure consciousness. Or if we suppose the
same object, the table, to be continuously an object of sense-perception, and the attention to be varied from
the process to the object, and conversely : then perception alternates with consciousness, the one never
excluding tbe other, as is provided for in our definition, and as is attested by experience. As to the ques-
tion whether consciousness is a special faculty, Hamilton himself concedes all that any one need contend
for, when he says, {Lee. 13) : " We admit at once, that were the question merely whether we should not dis-
tinguish under consciousness, two special faculties — whether we should not study apart, and bestow distinctive
appellations on consciousnes considered as more particularly cognizant of the external world, and on con-
sciousness as more particularly cognizant of the internal— this would be highly proper and expedient."— (Cf.
Lee. 29.) The question is then one of nomenclature— (A) is consciousness to be used as a generic term=
knowledge, of which the two, sense-perception and self-consciousness, or consciousness, are species ; or (B)
is the appropriate generic term knowledge, with the two or more species under it, sense-perception, con-
sciousness, etc., being coordinate with one another? Hamilton's theoretical answer to this question is quite
inconsistent with his practice. In his theory he gives the answer (A) ; in his practical use of the terms and
treatment of the subject, he follows (B).
summary re- § 83, ^e conclude then, thus : The object of consciousness
specting the ob- js a s^a^e or ac^ 0f ^he soul ; this state or act must occur or
lect of conscious- 7
ness- exist in order that it may be known ; but it does not exist
before it is known in the order of time, but only in the order of depend-
98 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 84.
ence, or of logical necessity. So far as the order of time is concerned, il
exists while it is known. But what is known of this object must depend
on the nature of the mutter to be known, and also on the reach or capacity
of consciousness in its attentive inspection.
A psychical act or state, as we have seen, is. in its nature complex, con-
sisting of three elements in intimate relation to each other : the ego ; the
object ; the acting or suffering of the passing moment. But the act or
suffering is inconceivable, except as belonging to the ego and occasioned
by the object. Of this double relation consciousness must take notice. It
must, therefore, also take notice of the terms or elements to which it is
related.
a 8 84. We observe still further, that consciousness the obiect,
The object of s . . » . . J '
consciousness is as contradistinguished from consciousness the act, is a state or
a being. ...
condition of being, as contrasted with an act of knowledge.
It has already been asserted, that, to know, supposes and requires being
as its objective correlate. The being, known by consciousness, is a spirit-
ual being, a permanent identical agent or producer of states and acts
which are known ; i. e., a being in the eminent and higher sense, substan-
tial or real being (cf. P. IY. c. vii). This the mind knows to be, or to exist,
by a direct or immediate act of its own. Consciousness as an act, is the
energy of a knowing or thinking agent. Consciousness as an object, is the
spiritual being discriminated from the act by which it is known, and dis-
criminated as a being which is apprehended really to exist. In every state
of consciousness, knowledge is directly confronted with being in the same
psychical state, and the being which is known is affirmed to be identical
with the being which knows.
The saying of Descartes, Cogito, ergo sum, has preeminent
of °cogito, ergo propriety and obvious truth when applied to the act of con-
sciousness. It means more than, I find myself a thinking
being, and therefore I, the thinking being, exist ; but it means conscius sum,
that is, I know directly the activities of a being, which being is myself ;
its existence I directly apprehend and affirm. It has been said with emi-
nent truth that absolute skepticism is incompatible with the act of con-
sciousness ; because, if I doubt or question any reality, or whatever reality
I doubt or question, I cannot doubt or question that I myself doubt or
question. The same truth is more strikingly confirmed by the view
already taken, that in consciousness as the act there must be present and
known consciousness as the object ; and this object is a substantial exist-
ing being, known or affirmed by the ~rery act of consciousness to exist.
Not only is absolute skepticism excluded by the analysis of the act of con.
Skepticism em- sciousness, but absolute idealism is excluded as trulv and as effectually. The
phatically ex- . . , , , . , . ' _..
eluded. object of consciousness is not a thought-object, but a thing-object. The
being known is not a phantasm, or notion, or spiritual product, but it is a
substance, the self, or ego, existing in some definite state or condition. In consciousness, I am
§85. NATURAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 99
confronted not with a thought, but with a being. "Whatever else may be unreal — whethei
idea, phantasm, or speculation; this acting and suffering self is a reality — not a mere
phenomenon as contrasted with a transcendental ego, nor an ego inferred, assumed, or sug
gested, but an ego directly known to be.
The mind, in an act of consciousness, does not create the state or conditioi
actdoes notfcre- which it knows to be. It only creates the act, so far as it knows the act 01
ate its object by s^a^e ^0 ^^ rpna^ which is known, is produced by another activity of the
same being. The states or conditions of being of which we are conscious
often spring up unexpectedly, as it were, beneath our feet, or they break in upon the field
of view unannounced, and they are often very unwelcome. Often their existence and presence
are beyond our control. The being of whose states we are conscious is also often in no sense
an actor or producer, but a sufferer and receiver. In such suffering and passive conditions
of being, the most obvious of which are bodily sensations, the being which we know, is easily
and strikingly contrasted with the acts by which it is conscious of its passive or recipient con-
dition, if it be not known as acted upon by other beings also.
§ 85. The reality and validity of being is not only thus
tions aiso°estab- established, because involved in the apprehension of con-
sciousness, but the relations of being are as necessarily af-
firmed in the same activity. The several states of the soul are not only
discriminated as diverse from one another, but they are known to be like
and unlike. They are also known to be produced by the soul which is
conscious, or knows, that they exist ; that is, they are known under the
relation of causation.
In view of these facts, we need not wonder that even the
Tbe soul a mi- ancient philosophers counted the human soul, thus known
crocosm. L a l '
by and to itself, to be a microcosm or epitome of the great
universe. In the spirit of man, and in the exercise of the simplest and
the most essential of its powers, thought and being are both conjoined ;
the one is confronted with the other, the one is essential to the other.
Thought is perpetually springing out of being, and apprehending being to
exist — not only simple being, but being in all its forms of activity and the
relations which they involve.
We shall not be surprised to find that all the conceptions which are necessary
All tbe catego- to scientific knowledge — those categories which cannot be proved, but which
nes involved in ° . ° , r \
consciousness. must be assumed — those prime relations and first truths on which all our
higher intelligence of matter or spirit depends, are affirmed of spiritual being
in the act of consciousness itself. It is natural to man to make himself the measure of the
universe — i. e., to take the little universe of being, which he knows so directly and so well,
with the relations involved, to be the analogon of the greater universe which lies beyond, and
which is more indirectly known. At all events, whatever relations and facts he finds it neces-
sary to affirm of his own being, he will not hesitate to apply to the whole universe without.
This is the process by which many explain our belief in these categories or first truths.
Many go further, and find not only in this microcosm an image of the larger
Man assumed to finite universe beyond, but also an analogon of its Creator. As man in con-
be tbe image of "
God. sciousness thinks this world of being into thought, thus producing a thought-
world by his creative power, under the limitations which are imposed by the
materials, both objective and subjective, which his nature as existing and knowing, impose
LOFC.
100 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §86.
*
jpon him, it is only needful for him to conceive these limits removed, and he forms to himself
a conception of the God in whose image he was made : and by the fact that he exists in His
image he is able to understand the properties and laws of the universe of both matter and
mind as he interprets in them the thoughts of its Creator.
§ 86. It has been already stated that consciousness, though
Development
and growth of natural and necessary to every human soul whose powers are
normally developed, is not exercised at the beginning of its
existence, but only after certain conditions and stages of growth have
been attained, and the power to apply them has been matured. The order
of this development and maturity may be sketched as follows :
The first activities are those of simple life. These, whether they pertain to
the body or the soul, are unconscious. All forms of reflex nerve-action, all
Unconscious life. , ,... />.-.,-.
the purely instinctive movements of either body or soul, or of both com-
bined, are known to be unattended by conscious apprehension. But all these
activities are exercised in great number and for a long time before the experience of sensations.
As soon as a sensation occurs, whether painful or pleasant, it must be felt.
Sensations and It is essential to its very nature to be experienced by a sentient being, and to
self-feeling. ^e felt as painful or pleasant. This experience, whether in man or animal,
involves some sort of possible apprehension of self as the subject of its pain or
pleasure. This is not consciousness, real or possible, as we use the term, but only conscious-
ness in its lowest and most rudimentary form. By some it is called the feeling as distin-
guished from the knowledge of self, or self-feeling in its beginnings. In order that conscious-
ness in its lowest stage should occur, the several sensations should not only be experienced, but
they must be discriminated from one another as this and that, the sensation as now and then,
the sensation as sweet and bitter, cold and hot ; and this sensation of sweet, thai sensation
of bitter, etc., etc. As long as the sensations are confused together, and are not discriminated,
whether they are weak or strong, the soul remains in this elementary condition of comparative
unconsciousness. This is the condition of the infant. It is also the condition into which the de-
veloped man relapses in swooning, distraction, intoxication, or approaching sleep. In the infant
such a condition cannot be remembered, for reasons which we will give in their place (§ 295).
The man can recall it but dimly, and only as he measures and imagines the state, by contrast
with those of which he is distinctly conscious, and which he can clearly recall.
But when the several sensations are discriminated from one another, the soul
Sensations dis- reaches a higher stage. But even this does not involve consciousness, unless
criminated. ^ie sensations are also discriminated from the self to which they pertain.
Observation attests that the one is possible without the other. Even the
external objects that occasion the sensations, may be distinguished from one another and from
the sensations which attend them, before the soul distinctly recognizes the sensations as its
own. No fact is more patent to universal observation, than that, in infancy and childhood,
man is occupied with the objective, with very infrequent cognition of self as contrasted with
his sensations or their objects, or the impulse that carries the feelings and actions without. It
would seem that all the impulses that follow the bodily sensations — e. ff., the animal appetites
— carry the soul still further outward, and hold and hinder it more effectually from the recog-
nition of its own being or agency. Even the man who has outgrown this condition, and been
raised above it by refinement and moral culture, sometimes falls back into it. " Every man
can occasionally catch himself in the state of losing himself in the act of eating or seeing,
and, as it were, burying his consciousness in the function of some single organ of sense.
States of this sort have always in them something of the animal." — Helferrich, Org> d,
iriss., p. 83.
§86. STATURAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 101
As soon as feelings of another character are experienced — emotions proper,
Emotions distin- and not sensations, emotions which are perhaps antagonistic to sensations and
sensations. fl°m tneir imPulses— tne opportunity is presented for the soul to distinguish its
• own agency, and itself as an actor or sufferer, as contrasted with itself as purely
sentient ; i. e., carried out of itself by its sensations and appetites. It now furnishes in itself
ihe condition for that reflex act which we call the conscious discrimination of its states as its
own. It now can know itself as an actor and sufferer. The act of consciousness is not
explained by its conditions. It is not developed from nor produced by these conditions. But
it does not occur before these conditions are furnished, and these conditions do not exist till
the soul has reached a stage of development that is somewhat advanced. When these con-
ditions do present themselves, the act of consciousness is performed, in and by which it dis-
cerns its object to be. In other words, under these conditions, consciousness the act and con-
sciousness the object, as we have described them, are possible and actual.
The first step which, the child makes toward the cognition of self, is to distinguish its body from other
bodies and other persons. "When it knows its name it applies it first to its body, and usually speaks ot
this self in the third person. It is a great step forward when it can use the pronoun I, a step not taken
till the child has developed decided wishes, and some exhibition of character, in the form of emotion,
passion, or purpose. Jean Paul Richter records of himself: "Never shall I forget the phenomenon in
myself, never till now recited, when I stood by the birth of my own self-consciousness, the place and time
of which are distinct in my memory. On a certain forenoon I stood, a very young child, within the house-
door, and was looking out toward the wood-pile, as, in an instant, the inner revelation, « I am I,' like light-
ning from heaven, flashed and stood brightly before me ; in that moment had I seen myself as I, for the
first time and forever ! "
The baby, new to earth and sky,
What time his tender palm is pressed
Against the circle of the breast,
Has never thought that this is I.
But as he grows, he gathers much,
And learns the use of I and me,
And finds I am not what I see,
And other than the things I touch ;
So rounds he to a separate mind,
From whence clear memory may begin,
As thro' the frame that binds him in,
His isolation grows defined.
Tennyson.— In Memoriam, xliv.
The object discerned by the act of consciousness is not, as we have already
The self not the observed, the soul itself, as a substance or subject, with all its capacities and
ego. powers ; for, besides those which consciousness apprehends, there are those
which it does not reach. Even the cause or source of many which it does
discern are beyond its direct cognition. In all of these operations the sentient nature acts
out of sight, receiving or rejecting those objects for which Nature has or has not adapted its
action. Even after the soul acts and appears as the ego, and, as such, is the conscious subject of
its higher acts, it also acts as the unconscious subject of many others. As the subject of many
similar acts and states objectively known to the conscious ego, is it called the self; as the
agent which is actor, and also conscious of individual acts, is it called the ego, or I. Pre-
eminently is it the ego, or I, when it makes itself manifest as the regulator or controller of the
blind impulses and desires by an act of will. This ego is known as identical with itself. It is
the same ego which yesterday and to-day observes the changing states of the identical self
which it makes the object of its knowledge ; otherwise it could not connect these states as
past and present, as experienced now and remembered yesterday. It could not regard them
as its own. It could not combine them as similar into a concept, nor unite them in a class.
Above all, it is the same ego when it holds the same purpose unchanged, and can repress and
overcome its own changing moods, and the solicitations of others, by an unvarying and con
tinued purpose.
102 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 86
The act of conscious self-apprehension may also be more or less frequently
Differences iu exercised by different men, after the capacity for it has been reached. The con-
individuals. ditions for its exercise, after the power has been matured, may be more or
less favorable. First, the objective conditions may be more ampfe and ener-
getic in one man than in another. The corporeal nature of one may so hold the spirit by
obtrusive and engrossing sensations as to preclude the possibility of that discrimination which
Is the first condition of conscious knowledge. Thus the body of the idiot or the half-witted
may so preoccupy the energies as to detain it almost in the animalized state. Moral obliquity,
especially in early life, may almost literally brutify or animalize its condition. Various mor-
bid conditions of the body may come in at an early period of the soul's development to arrest
its natural progress, by filling up its experience with continued sensations of weakness and pain
Even a low energy of vital force may give to consciousness only feeble sensational activity and
inert impelling forces, which are too unobtrusive to elicit discriminating cognition. The occupa-
tions, cares, and interests may be so material and sordid, as to fill up the life with activities
that are solely objective. The psychical nature of one person may also be far richer and more
varied in its capacities than that of another, furnishing the material for conscious observation
that is comparatively copious and inviting. Second, the subjective capacity of conscious activity
differs in degrees in different persons. The natural power, the acquired facility, and the incli-
nation to look inward, are stronger in some than in others ; and hence in some men that is a
passion which in others is rarely and ineffectually performed. Nature, habit, and art exhibit
surprising diversities and contrasts in this respect.
This leads us to repeat the remark already made, that the capacity for con-
The capacity for sciousness is not the product of accidentaLconditions or circumstances, nor is
consciousness r ** '
not developed. it the result of any development from any lower existence, but is provided
in the nature of man and the designs of his creator. The brute is not self-
conscious under the most favorable circumstances, nor can he become so as the result of any
development whatever. He may be like man in the lower stages of being, in the experience
of what we call bodily sensations and animal appetites ; but he never discriminates one sensa-
tion from another by a self-conscious act, simply because he has not the capacity. Much less
does he distinguish the self from its states, because there is no self and no states to be thus
distinguished. Hence he cannot, in the proper sense of the word, remember, nor generalize,
nor reason, nor judge, so far as these involve the reference of acts or objects to himself by
appropriate acts and products. He cannot purpose or choose, for a similar reason. Neither
the objective conditions of these acts are furnished in his own nature, nor is the subjective
capacity to discern them.
This leads us to repeat what has before been said, that consciousness as act
Consciousness and object, though developed in the progress of the soul's history, is not in
circumstances, any sense a phenomenon produced by the soul's powers in connection with
certain objects or conditions. Consciousness as an act, or power to act, is the
poorer to know what actually exists. The power to know does not make that to exist which is
simply known to be. The object of consciousness is not a phenomenon or phase of the soul,
but the soul itself as at last apprehended in its higher relations, and as exercising its nobler
activities. The fact that this ego, or self, is also capable of other activities of which it is not
conscious ; the fact that it acts as vital force in forming and nourishing matter as, and into the
body — which facts are not known to consciousness — do not disprove the more important activi-
ties which consciousness does apprehend, nor do they make nor prove that what consciousness
does know — viz., the self, or the ego — has not real being. The order and law of knowing is not
the order or law of being. The fact that the power of the soul to know itself is developed
last of all in the oi'der of time, docs not cause what is known to come into being at the time
when it is known, nor its being to result from any process of development at all. The soul ir
consciousness knows a fact ; it does not make the fact to be.
§ 87. NATUEAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 103
§87. The question has been discussed of late among English
Latent modifica- e ' . ^ • , f *
iions cf con- psychologists, whether there can be any latent modifications
sciousress. r / . mt ...„■,..
of consciousness. The phrase is infelicitous, because ap-
parently self-contradictory — a latent modification of that which, in its very
essence, is an act or an object of knowledge, being apparently, both in
term and thought, impossible. The truth which the phrase was designed
to describe is, however, real and important, and deserves to be clearly
stated. That the soul may act without being conscious of what it does, or even
that it acts at all, has been already established. That these unconscious acts
affect those acts of which it is conscious, and their objects, is also evident.
A sharp distinction has been made between those processes by which the
soul, so to speak, prepares objects for its conscious apprehension, and the
acts of knowing these objects when thus, prepared. It is equally clear
that the soul, by acting consciously, prepares products which it can pre-
serve and can recall, and that, by acting often and energetically, it strength-
ens the power to preserve and recall, by processes which it cannot con-
sciously follow out nor explain. All the effects of this kind of its con-
scious acts, are accomplished by modifications of the soul which are latent
— i. e.) unknown to the direct inspection of consciousness.
Many of the instances cited of such modifications, are only
Consciousness _ . .
susceptible of examples 01 objects observed with less attention — objects
comparatively unheeded, which may be afterward revived
with greater distinctness. For example, I write hastily, to-day, a word or
a phrase which is incorrect or ungrammatical. I do not notice the error,
but I recall it to-morrow, and notice the mistake by an act of memory.
Or, I see a person, and, at the time, do not notice some article of his dress
or some peculiarity in his look or language, but recall either distinctly on
reflection. Or some part of a total perception, as of a crowded and active
company, or a varied landscape, apparently escapes my notice. It is a
mere accessory, a subordinate, quite overlooked in comparison with the
central figures or objects ; and yet it may serve as a link in the restoration
of a train of connected objects. These objects are not latent, though
very little attended to. The processes which they affected were, as all the
processes of recalling by association are, wholly out of consciousness ;
consciousness being only capable of discerning and recognizing objects
when presented, but being wholly unable to follow the act by which A is
connected with B, or by which B subsequently brings A before the con-
scious mind.
Leibnitz (Nbuveaux JZssais, ii. c. i.) cites the case of the sound of the sea as an example. A
single wave does not affect the ear, but only many, when combined. And yet each wave must
contribute its share in affecting the conscious mind, or the whole could not be heard. A dis-
tinction is to be made in this instance between the impulse of a single wave upon the organ
of hearing, and the experience of the sensation. The action of many waves together may be
required to bring the organ into that condition which effects the sensation in question, or any
104 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §89
other. To the total effect upon the organ each wave may contribute its part, without moving
the consciousness in the least, even latently.
The general truth cannot, however, be controverted, that the unconscious and conscioua
processes of the soul act and react on each other continually, and that neither should be over-
looked in the science which explains its phenomena. Consciousness, though the most impor-
tant, is not the only source of our knowledge of the soul, and its powers and laws.
CHAPTER H.
THE KEFLECTIVE, OR PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS.
Hitherto we have considered consciousness as the common endowment and universal charac-
teristic of the human race. Every human being is capable of being conscious of his
psychical states. Every man who is normally developed becomes actually conscious of
these states at a very early period of his existence. The exercise of this power connects
him with his kind by the capacity for human sympathy. It enables him to recognize as
true the descriptions of human experience which are given by the dramatist, the novelist,
and the philosopher. It qualifies him to try the statements and theories of the philoso-
pher at the court of ultimate appeal — i. <?., bis own conscious experience. This is natu-
ral, or primary consciousness.
The reflective § ^' ^e nave5 however, distinguished and defined another
contrasted with species of consciousness. This is the artificial, or secondary
the natural con- *■ ','■'■', . '
sciousness. consciousness, and it is attained by comparatively few.
Though all men can understand and appreciate the descriptions and
appeals of the dramatist and the orator, there are but few who can origi-
nate and apply them. Though all men experience the phenomena which
the philosopher records, classifies, and accounts for, and in a certain sense
can judge of the truth of his assertions, there are few who observe these
phenomena with reflection even by such aid; and the number is very small
who can originate an analysis or comparison. The consciousness which
understands and assents, is, in some important respects, distinguished from
that which discovers and proves. And yet the one power must have an
intimate relation to the other ; else the truth which the philosopher origi-
nates would be beyond the reach of the man who receives and assents to
it. The consciousness which discovers and teaches is properly called the
philosophical and reflective consciousness. These characteristics may
serve to distinguish the two species of consciousness in general ; but we
ask more particularly, ' What is the reflective consciousnesss ? and wThat
are its relations to the natural consciousness ? ' In answer to the first of
the questions we say :
§ 89. The reflective consciousness is the natural conscious-
consciousness ness exercised with earnest and persistent attention. It lias
already been shown that every intellectual power may be
§ 89. THE REFLECTIVE, OR PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 105
used with a greater or less degree of energy. We have also seen that the
development of the natural consciousness through its successive stages is
but the development of an increase of attention. When this habit is car-
ried to a still higher degree of energy, and the subjective states and
activities become as familiar and as frequent objects of contemplation as
material objects are to the mass of men, then consciousness is transformed
into reflection. The natural and the spontaneous becomes the artificial
and reflective consciousness.
That the ordinary consciousness should be intensified to the extraordinary, is not entirely
strange to the experience of men who are habitually unaccustomed to reflection upon them-
selves and their own psychical processes. It not infrequently happens that the inattentive and
unreflecting, is so startled by the fire and energy of his own feelings, as to look in upon him-
self with wonder. Or perhaps such a man is surprised to see in some feat of memory, some
sally of the imagination, or some sagacious conjecture, a revelation of internal power and
resources of which he had never dreamed, and which has astonished him, somewhat as the
vein of silver is said to have astonished the savage who caught at a shrub and exposed the
lode beneath, that led to the mines of Potosi. Such revelations have been to many a boy
and man the beginning of a new life.
It may help us still further to accept the possibility and to understand the nature of con-
sciousness as modified by attention, to consider it in the two forms of the morbid and the
ethical self-consciousness.
The morbid or the abnormal self-consciousness is that kind or degree of atten-
sciou^mess C°in" t^on to one's own psychical states which interferes with the normal use and
children and development of the powers; which is inconsistent with the health, the com-
fort, and the successful activity of the body or the soul. Children are
appointed by nature to an objective, and, in one sense, an animal life. The soul needs to be
tiius occupied, to accumulate the stores of facts and dates, or words and phrases, which it may
ufterward turn to a higher use. The imagination naturally constructs and invents with cre-
ative affluence, and it colors and gilds whatever it creates. But now and then a child, through
un unfortunate bias, or some ill-judged training, has been led to look inward upon itself with
unnatural precocity. As a consequence, the subjective predominates over the objective, the
)power to reflect excludes the power to acquire; and that easy and spontaneous play of observa-
tion, memory, imagination, wit, and invention, which is the strength and the charm of child-
hood, is excluded or hindered.
Among adults many examples occur of a morbid or unnatural attention to the inner life.
Hypochondriacs, who are haunted by disturbing sensations which come from some bodily dis-
ease, till their attention is so absorbed in watching their sensations that it cannot respond to
the objects that are fitted to amuse and inspirit them, furnish one example. Men who have
inherited or indulged a sensitive nature till it has become their tyrant ; who watch their feel-
ings with a selfish exclusiveness, or who pamper them with a dainty fastidiousness, become,
like Rousseau, half insane through brooding over their own exaggerated sufferings and wrongs.
Hamlet is a striking example of an affectionate and heroic nature, shocked by the occurrence
of a terrible calamity, that first forced him to be suspicious of his fellow-men, and then taught
him to distrust himself, till his " native hue of resolution " was " sicklied o'er with the pale
cast of thought." Skeptics, whether philosophical or religious— men who carry the impulse to
question and investigate to the excess of distrust and doubt — usually terminate their career of
distrust by turning their eyes inward upon the workings of their own souls, and find there the
amplest field for questioning the validity of the laws of their own being and the facts of theii
own consciousness.
108 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 91.
Another type of the abnormal consciousness is that which results from an egoistic thought-
fulness of one's appearance, manners, words, looks, actions, or achievements, which shows itself
in the countless forms of affectation that are displayed in society, as well as in literature. Thej
all have this common feature, that the person thinks more of himself than is wise or healthful.
So common has this become in the artificial society of modern times, that it has given a new
sense to the words conscious and consciousiiess, with and without self as the prefix.
The ethical type is that attention to one's inner states which is applied in
The ethical con- Yiew °^ a moral standard, for the purposes of self-correction and self-improve-
sciousness. ment. In order to judge one's self, a person must know or examine himself.
He must attend to his own thoughts and feelings, so far as is requisite for
these ends. This is so obviously required, that the word reflection, which originally signified the
reflex action of the soul upon itself, has acquired a secondary signification, in its use and appli-
cation for ethical purposes. This kind of reflective consciousness always brings with it some
intellectual discipline. The person who habitually scrutinizes his motives and examines his
feelings in the light of the law of duty and of God, cannot but cultivate and strengthen his
intellect by the process, however humble may be his calling and illiterate his education.
Christianity has trained the intellect of the human race to this activity, and hence has been so
efficient in educating and elevating the masses of men, even when it has furnished no special
intellectual culture.
8 90. The type of the reflective consciousness with which
The scientific ° f \ • . . . ; '
reflective con- we are specially concerned is that which is properly called
philosophical, because used for scientific ends. It has this in
common with the types already referred to, that it involves attention as
its special and essential element. But the attention must be employed in
a peculiar way, with distinct reference to peculiar ends, and with the aid
of special appliances, if it is to yield important scientific results. Its
characteristics are the following :
• • §91. First: It is persistent in its observations. It not only
Characterised by ° x ,.,.. ,
persistent atten- attends to the phenomena of the soul as mcmiation or duty
may decide, but it attends continuously, with the definite
aims of careful observation and accurate remembrance. But how can the
mind attend continuously to the same mental state ? Of material objects
many of the phenomena are permanent ; they address the senses as being
the same objects. We can observe them again and again, till we are certain
that we have attained a definite impression, and can bring away a satisfy-
ing recollection. But the mental object is but for an instant. If we look
for it, in order that we may look at it the second time, it is not there. It
existed only so long as, by our own act, we gave it being ; and when that
activity is intermitted, the object which we would fain examine by a
second look is no longer and nowhere to be found. The only resource
which we have, is to prolong the state by continually renewing or repeat-
ing it. To this act or effort of prolongation Locke gives the name of
retention, and this he describes as a peculiar mental act (Essay, B. ii.
c. x. § 1). But can we prolong a single state beyond its assigned period
of time ? Is not a single state limited to a definite period of duration ?
The question is trivial, and it is of no consequence how it is answered.
§92. THE REFLECTIVE, OE PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 101
Whether we can prolong a state or not, we can certainly repeat it agair
and again, allowing no other activity to intervene. As we thus repeat the
activity in a series of similar acts, we present to our consciousness sub-
stantially the same object, and so secure an opportunity for bestowing
upon it that continuous or sustained attention which is essential to exact
observation. What we fail to notice at one look, we catch by another .
What we only faintly apprehend at the first sight, we fix and confirm by
the second. What we observe incorrectly or partially in one act, we dis-
cern truly and completely in the act which follows. This retention or
repetition of the object becomes the condition of the continuity of the act
of consciousness, and hence it is a distinguishing characteristic of the
philosophic consciousness. It is because the mind does, as it were, turn in
upon itself, that this effort of consciousness is termed reflection — i. e., the
bending back or retortion of the soul on itself. It is because this repe-
tition of the object, or retortion in the act, is found to be practically
necessary, in order to any accurate and successful observation of con-
sciousness, that consciousness the act, has been supposed to be a remem-
brance, a sort of second thought, and the power has been resolved into
memory (§ 75). Second-thinking is, indeed, necessary to reflective con-
sciousness ; and not only second-thinking, but a sustained and continued
application of the attention to the continuously repeated act.
Other advantages are secured by this repetition of the mind's activity, and one especially,
that it is capable of being viewed more coolly. When the soul first goes forth into an act, it?
conscious apprehension of what it does or suffers is inversely as the direct energy by which it
produces it. If it reproduces its like immediately, this may be entirely similar to the original in
the kind, and yet greatly unlike it in the degree of its energy, leaving the remainder of the soul's
energy to be employed in the reflex attention to it. If I am absorbed by the beauty of a
splendid picture, or a glorious sunset, I shall not be likely, when these objects first break upon
my sight, to give much attention to the act or process by which I view them in order to ascer-
tain their exact nature, or to the emotion with which I am literally rapt or carried out of myself,
to discover whether there is more of delight or wonder. But when my curiosity is satisfied,
and my feelings are calmer, then I have some energy to withdraw from the act of seeing and
the feeling of admiration, which I can employ in reflex attention to the act and the emotion.
But even in the energy of my first perception and the tumult of my first emotion, I noticed
these very states sufficiently to remember that they were like the less excited and absorbed states
that follow, which allow the chief energy of the soul to be employed in reflex attention. Facts
like these throw a flood of light on the necessity of repeated activities of the soul, in order
both to furnish the subject-matter for its reflex action, and in order to enable it to reflect with
profit.
8 92. Second : The philosophical consciousness is compre-
It attends to all f . . . _ \ £ . . . . \
the psychical nensive in its observations. It brings witnm its neld of view
all the phenomena of the soul. Its object being to know all
its powers, it must of course consider and attend to all its phenomena.
The philosopher may not, like the man of morbid or abnormal tendencies,
give an exclusive and one-sided regard to certain feelings, or to a few spe-
cies of intellectual acts ; but he must regard all the variety of experience?
108 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 94.
of which his being is capable, omitting none, being partial to none, doing
full justice to each and to all — to each in its separate agency, and to all in
their mutual and conspiring harmony. This principle is so obviously just
and fundamental, that no reasons need be given to justify or enforce it.
It is accepted as a cardinal maxim of the inductive method; to whatever
object-matter this method is applied. To scientific knowledge of every
sort, it is essential that all the facts should be fairly considered. Nature is
an honest witness, and stands pledged to tell not only the truth, but the
whole truth. Those who examine the witness are equally bound to hear
the whole truth, and to open their minds to attentively consider it.
§ 93. Third : The philosophical consciousness attends to
Compares and psychical phenomena, in order that it may compare them ;
classifies them. *\ . r , . -, J , . . '
and it compares these phenomena, m order that it may unite
those which are alike, and distinguish those which are unlike. Its aim is
scientific knowledge ; and science is knowledge that is comparative and
discriminating. In other words, it is classified and arranged knowledge.
Or it may be defined as facts seen in their widest and most comprehensive
relations. It is not sufficient that we attend to the facts of the soul apart ;
we must compare them together, in order that they may be classed and
distinguished, and reduced to the order and symmetry of a completed
system.
The power to discern relations sharply, surely, and quickly, may to a certain extent be a
special endowment or gift of nature. Its successful exercise or application, however, is the
result of attentive comparison. The observer must bring the facts together, placing them side
by side. He must then look at them in their connections, leaving the various relations to sug-
gest themselves. He must also unite those which are alike, and discriminate those which are
unlike. By whatever method or from whatever source the facts of the soul come to notice,
whether by reading, memory, or observation, they must, when present, be brought together by
ihe comparing attention.
§ 94. Fourth : The philosophical consciousness interprets the
explains them phenomena which it unites and discriminates. In other
\LfT^ words, it explains them by a reference to powers and laws.
The classification of phenomena is a condition of science, rather than sci-
ence itself. It is science begun, but not science completed. The object
of science is to ascertain what is familiarly called the nature, essence, or
constitution, whether of the material or the spiritual beings with which it
has to do. It may not be easy to define what is intended by these terms
(§ 426). It is obvious, however, that something more is meant than a
bundle of classified phenomena. They are suj)posed to indicate or reveal
some power which the being possesses. The phenomenon is to the power
as an effect is to its cause. The power is conceived as a capacity to cause
some result or phenomenon. Hence science is said to be the investigation
of causes, principles, or powers. The scientific consciousness, therefore,
reflects, that it may refer phenomena to their causes or powers, in the soul.
§ 95. THE REFLECTIVE, OE PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 109
But powers, whether material or spiritual, do not act except under conditions. Soma
other being, agent, or condition, must be present in order that the power may be actuall)
exercised. The soul, though self-active, as has been explained, is yet dependent on material
conditions for the beginnings of its activity, and for many of the objects which direct this
activity. But inasmuch as the soul is self-active, it is also very largely dependent on itself for
the conditions of its acting. But whatever these conditions are, and whencesoever they origi-
nate, they must be ascertained, in order that the philosophical consciousness should complete
Us work and attain its appropriate objects.
But again : The powers or agents of nature act according to laws.
These laws are fixed methods or rules according to which phenomena
occur, when the conditions of their presence are furnished. The laws of
the soul are, therefore, to be discovered and established, in order that the
science of the soul may be complete, and the objects of the philosophical
consciousness may be accomplished. We have already adverted to the
reasons which lead us to presume that the essence, the acts, and the laws
of the soul differ from those which belong to matter and are the subject?
of the physical sciences. That the soul has laws of its own, is highly
probable ; but the duty is none the less imperative to discover and fiy
these laws, whatever they may be.
We have already answered the question, whether there is not one
method common to both spiritual and material phenomena, viz., the induc-
tive method, whose principles and maxims have long been fixed and ac-
knowledged. There is but one method of inquiry for the two classes
of objects ; but it is one of the fundamental principles of this method, that
full and complete justice should be done to the powers and laws which are
appropriate to any class of agencies, provided that their existence and
action can be fairly proved — i. e., can be established on satisfactory evi-
dence, and reveal themselves to the appropriate means of observation. It
is also not to be forgotten, that the analysis of psychological phenomena
involves at last an analysis of the processes and laws of induction itself;
giving thus to psychology a profounder import and importance than be-
longs to any material science.
Peiations of the § 95, ^ur secon^ inquiry respected the relations of the natu-
thenaturaiacon° ra^ *° ^e philosophical consciousness. These relations need
sciousness. ^0 fog m0re fully considered. It has already been explained
that all the phenomena of the soul which are used by the philosopher in a
completed science, occur under the eye of the natural consciousness.
Neither the natural, nor the reflective consciousness creates these facts ;
they only observe them ; the one cursorily aud to little scientific purpose,
the other patiently and with comprehensive and sagacious comparisons.
Consciousness does not call the facts into being, nor does reflection intro-
duce us to a new world of its own creation ; but both observe these facts,
yet in a different way. Psychology does not add newly-created phe-
nomena to our stock of knowledge, nor even in one sense newly-discov
110 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §96.
ered facts ; but only old and in one sense well-known facts, now carefully
and comprehensively observed and exhibited in new relations. The facts,
and many of the relations of the facts, are as obvious, and in one sense as
truly known, to the peasant as to the philosopher. When the philosopher
teaches the peasant, he does not impart new knowledge concerning the
soul, by mere testimony, on the authority of his own observations and ex-
periments, or those of others ; he simply teaches him to attend to the
phenomena of his own inner self. He says to him, Look, and you will find
this or that. Observe this and that phenomenon together, and you will
see wherein they agree and wherein they differ. In short, he only
teaches him what in one sense he knew before.
Does the phiio- 8 96. But does not the reflective consciousness discover and
sophical con- . -i-io-nr • -i t i
sciousness im- impart new knowledge i Most certainly. It by no means
part new knowl- „.. , . , „ ' . , ■ _ „ .
edge. follows, because the natural iurnisnes to the reflective con-
sciousness all its facts, and the reflective must go to the natural conscious-
ness for all its materials, that the philosophic consciousness makes no
important additions to the stock of human knowledge. The same starry
heavens are pictured on the eye of the stupid or superstitious savage, as
upon that of the scientific astronomer ; but how much more does the one
see in them than the other ! A simple child and a skilful engineer look
upon a steam-engine, both in one sense seeing the same objects ; but how
much more does the one perceive in the engine than the other, of the pow-
ers, the laws and the uses of each separate part, and of their action with
respect to the whole. The same natural consciousness is the common pos-
session of the race ; but how great is the store of important scientific
truth which reflective thought has superinduced upon, and discovered in
it. Indeed, it is easier to lead the savage up to the sublime generaliza-
tions of astronomy, and to teach the child to comprehend the intricate
relations of the steam-engine, than it is to make them familiar with the
facts and principles of psychological science. To unveil to a man his inner
self imparts more knowledge that is novel and strange, than to teach him
astronomy and mechanics.
The difference between the knowledge given by the natural and that acquired
S!?81 tnowlecke flirouSa tne philosophical consciousness, is well illustrated by the individual
of the ego and conception of the ego, which is common to all, and the generalized conception
of the self which is the product of reflection. The consideration of this differ-
ence illustrates the relation of the one species of consciousness to the other. In every act and
condition of the natural consciousness there is necessarily present, the recognition of the ego, as
the unchanging subject of the changing states of the soul. It is plain that neither reflection nor
memory can create or evolve this knowledge ; for both reflection and memory presuppose and
require it as their essential condition. It must be given to the mind by the intuition of the
natural consciousness, or it is not given at all. But it is the intuition of the individual ego — the
one single being to which, and to which alone, belong the various and changing states which are its
experiences and its doings, or rather into which it is constantly passing by suffering and by action.
The conception of the self, which is expressed in language and denned by its constituent
§96. THE REFLECTIVE, OR PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. Ill
elements or characteristics, is the generalized product of the philosophical consciousness. A self
is one of the individual agents or egos, so to speak, which is like every other, in those common
characteristics or powers which make them alike. It is, however, an ego stripped of its indi-
viduality by the process of abstraction, and considered only in those attributes and qualities
which it has in common with others. The self, or this self, or my self, is this individual one
of the selves — the ego, to which this common conception is applied, and of which it is predi-
cated. These general attributes are known by their manifestations. In other words, we
reflect upon its actings and experiences, and observe what it has in common with others of its
class. We observe, also, what special or peculiar powers it has exhibited, by which it is dis-
tinguished from other human souls and shows itself worthy to be set apart into a more limited
or lower species. In order that either of these conceptions of an individual ego should be
formed, it must have existed for a longer or shorter time, and had opportunity to manifest and
develop its natural or perhaps its acquired peculiarities, in various forms of act and suffering.
To do this, it must have had the opportunity of acting. The various occasions that are neces-
sary as the sphere of the soul, must also have been furnished. Not only must the ego have lived
and acted in various ways, to present the material for the reflex consciousness to work upon,
but these manifestations must have been considered in all the ways necessary for philosophic
results, in order that it may be considered as a self, or any species of a self. On the other
hand, the natural consciousness must begin with the apprehension of the ego, as the condition
of knowing a single mental state. It cannot connect one with another except by the appre-
hended identity of this ego. We begin with the natural consciousness of the individual ego,
and end with the philosophical concept of the self; with its nature and capacities as developed
in the reflective consciousness, by which nature we explain its various single phenomena as
occurring according to the essential laws of its being.
So, too, when we conceive of the self in its ethical relations, we consider the individual
ego as possessed of a character, that is the result of its own free activity, and yet is described
and judged by the marks of excellence or defect which it has in common with a class. In
other words, we apply to it the concepts which generalization alone can furnish. We reflect
on the actual attainments and doings of this individual ego, in order to judge of the class of
beings to which to assign it, that we may know its worth and its destiny. We devise methods
l;o improve it in the light of certain generalized concepts. In ethics, we recognize both the
individual ego of the natural consciousness, and the generalized ego of reflection.
We can also go beneath the generalizations of self that are founded on what consciousness
observes and records. We can conceive of the soul as capable of other functions which con-
nect it with the living body, and fit it to act in another sphere and under other relations. In
these researches we depart still further from the sphere of the natural consciousness.
Coleridge eloquently says : " There is a philosophic consciousness'which lies beneath, or (as it were)
behind the spontaneous consciousness natural to all reflecting beings. As the elder Romans distinguished
their northern provinces into Cis- Alpine and Trans- Alpine, so may -we divide all the objects of human
knowledge into those on this side, and those on that side of the spontaneous consciousness. * * * The first
range of hills that encircles the scanty vale of human life, is the horizon for the majority of its inhabitants.
On its ridges the common sun is born and departs. From them the stars rise, and touching them they
vanish. By the many, even this range, the natural limit and bulwark of the vale, is but imperfectly known.
Its higher ascents are too often hidden by mists and clouds from uncultivated swamps, which few have
courage or curiosity to penetrate. To the uncultivated below, these vapors appear, now as the dark haunts
of terrific agents, on which none may intrude with impunity ; and now, all aglow with colors not their
own, they are gazed at as the splendid palaces of happiness and power. But in all ages, there have been a
few who, measuring and sounding the rivers of the vale at the feet of the further inaccessible falls, have
learned that the sources must be far higher and inward— a few who, even in the level streams, have detected
elements which neither the vale itself, nor the surrounding mountains could supply ."—Biog. Lit., Chap. 12.
This passage is more eloquent than just. So fa,r as it describes the remoteness of the philosophic from tho
spontaneous consciousness, it is striking and true. So far as it fails to recognize the near relation of the
two, and the responsibility of the one to the other, it not only fails altogether, but suggests the mischievous
inference, that the philosopher discovers truths and relations which are in no sense whatever known by
112 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §97.
the ctfmmon consciousness— an inference which would invest the philosopher with a magical gift and
authority, as well as release him from the obligation and the means of proving and teaching what he
discovers, to any but the initiated few.
8 97. The relations of the natural to the philosophic con-
Office of Ian- . .• =, _ *-■.'.'•'* A _
guage in respect sciousness cannot be iuLly. appreciated, unless we advert to
the office of language with respect to each. Language is of
essential aid in giving precision and permanence to the observations and
results of the reflective consciousness. It is an indispensable requisite to
man in every species of scientific research, but in none is it so eminently
serviceable, as in the scientific observation of the soul. The subject-mat-
ter, as we have seen, is fleeting. It endures but for an instant. The state
which we observe and record no sooner appears, than it is gone. If we
recall another like it, we must depend on the distinctness with which we
reproduced the original observation, to justify us in using it for the pur-
poses of science. The matter is not fixed and abiding by which we would
test our theories and detect our errors. But we can give it outward form
and definite shape by embodying it in words and expressing it in speech.
The frequent use of the word, makes familiar the state and its discerned relations, of which
it is both the symbol and the record. To enshrine a refined observation or a subtle distinction
in a fit epithet or a well-chosen name, enables us to revive the conception when the mind is
less wakeful, or summons us to search for it where it would not spontaneously present itself.
The thought, however evanescent, is held before the mind for the purposes of comparison and
philosophy, when the word is often sounded to the ear or pictured before the eye. By the
sharply-cut outlines of language, thought-objects are so presented that we can avoid a crowded,
feeble, or bewildered gaze, when we would summon our energies to compare, classify, and
explain.
But language does not create phenomena and furnish obser-
Language does . T . _ ,* , -,-■. -,
not create the vations. It simply records both, and directs and stimulates
others to repeat like efforts of thought for themselves. To
attempt to observe without it, is to reject the aid which nature furnishes
to our hand, and to the use of which she prompts us, by an impulse which
we cannot resist if we would. But we should ever remember that lan-
guage is only an aid, and that the ready use of it by ourselves or others
cannot release us from the obligation to think and observe for ourselves,
to consider attentively and reflectively judge the states of our own souls,
to reproduce and study which, the words of others simply direct and aid
us.
We ought especially to guard ourselves against the liability to be imposed on
Dangers of mere ^ t^e uge 0f a refined and technical terminology, or the exhibition of a well-
tecnnology and J °""
system. rounded and carefully-adjusted system. Both these features are of them-
selves essential requisites in any science, and in none more than in the science
of the soul. But they exhibit only the relations of psychological facts as viewed by this or
that philosopher, and do not necessarily assure us that they exhibit all the facts in their just
relations, that none are overlooked and nothing is invented. Technical language is essential
to the use of the reflective consciousness, but it is not nearly so certain to exhibit the facts
§97. THE REFLECTIVE, OK PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 113
just as they are, with the beliefs and relations which they involve, as the language of the natu-
ral consciousness or the language of common life.
The language Indeed, as an expression of psychological facts and a touch-
sonSSs11 the stone of psychological theories, the language of common life
safest* is far more worthy to be trusted than the language of the
schools. It is the outspeaking of those beliefs and feelings, those distinc-
tions and likenesses, which man is naturally conscious of, and which he
therefore spontaneously expresses. It is the unconstrained embodiment of
all that happens to his inner self ; the subtle robe which the spirit is con-
tinually weaving for itself in all its inner processes. Each fold and adjust-
ment is a natural and necessary product. Not one is assumed for a pur-
pose. It is free from all those biassing influences which spring up on the
soil and within the limits of speculation, from the influences of precon-
ceived theories, whether fondly cherished by their originator, or tradition-
ally accepted from revered teachers ; whether adopted or defended
through the pride of opinion, the tenacity of consistency, or the heat of
controversy. It is expressed in too great a variety of forms, and under
circumstances too much unlike, to admit the supposition of any common
prejudice or common interest. We are forced to accept the common
discourse of men as expressing the unbiassed convictions of those who
are competent to discern and decide upon the truth.
But are uncultivated men competent to understand and decide upon such
uncultivated truths as are in question among philosophers ? Let it be granted that their
men know I language expresses their judgments, and that these judgments are worthy to
be trusted as far as they go. But do they reach the questions and distinctions
of the schools ? Can common men understand these questions and distinctions ? and if they
cannot understand their import, how can they decide upon their validity or their truth?
These inquiries are often urged in the way of exception and reply, to the view of the language
of common life that has been expressed. The answer is brief, and it ought, as it seems to us,
to be decisive. The facts which the philosopher seeks to discover are the facts or phenomena*
which are common to all men, and of which all men are actually conscious. They are not the
phenomena which are experienced exclusively by philosophers, whether in the form of knowl-
edge or of feeling, but those which are as extensive as the experience of the human race.
What all men experience when they know or feel, they will be likely to express in language ;
for they cannot know or feel, without knowing that they know and feel. So far, then, as
they attend to these processes, and express in language what they discern, they are likely to
express the real facts which consciousness discerns ; and these are the very facts which the'
philosopher desires to know. They will not use the language of the schools, for this is to
them a strange tongue. They will not even understand this language — they will not be able
even to recognize their own thoughts and their own beliefs when translated into this language ;
but they experience all the phenomena which the philosopher compares, classifies, and inter-
prets, and then expresses in terms that are technical and scholastic. In philosophizing upon
these facts the philosopher is liable to serious mistakes in respect to the facts themselves, and
their essential elements.
To detect and correct all mistakes of philosophy-, the mi
The language of , . .... _ - . _ r> ,.« * «
common life use- biassed and unreflecting language of common hie is often
one of the most efficient instrumentalities. The questions
8
114 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 99.
are often grave and difficult. What are the original or elementary facts
of human experience ? What would analysis show to be the real and the
ultimate elements in our knowing and feeling ? To answer questions like
these, there is no readier and surer expedient than to ask, How do men
express themselves all the world over, when they have no theory to main-
tain and no point to carry ? What are the unthinking utterances of com-
mon men ? Language is thought made visible. But thought is belief
that something is true. The language of common life is, then, the beliefs
of unbiassed men made visible, concerning points in regard to which we
simply desire to ascertain what their unbiassed consciousness discerns to
be true.
The 'actions of § 98, ^e ac^ons °f men are a^so °f great importance in
"ortant^test^f ascertainhig what are the real beliefs of men. Their actions
truttu speak louder than their words. When the actions of men
can only be explained on the supposition that they are conscious of cer-
tain knowledges, or believe certain facts which they may deny in their
philosophical speculations, or do not provide for in their psychology, we
conclude that their philosophy is defective or wrong. We appeal from
the propositions and reasonings of the reflective consciousness, to those
actual beliefs of the natural consciousness which their actions demonstrate
that they hold. When men act persistently and habitually as if they be-
lieved certain facts were true, we cannot doubt that they do believe them,
however they may seek to persuade themselves or others to the contrary.
But in the study of the soul it is always an important problem to ascertain
what are the elementary and original beliefs of which men are conscious.
When these are ascertained by their habitual language and conduct, it is
with great confidence that wre proceed to examine the principles which
their philosophy assumes, as well as the conclusions which they derive
from them.
These thoughts suggest the truth, which ought ever to be kept in mind and applied, that
the teacher of psychology must appeal for the truth of his assertions to the consciousness of
the learner. He can communicate nothing upon authority. His duty is to ascertain and
classify and interpret the phenomena of his own soul, and to set forth the processes and the
results in a manner so clear and so self-evidencing that his pupils will be enabled to consult
their own consciousness as he proceeds, and to find in it a confirmation of all which he pro-
pounds. Whatever is asserted by the teacher or guide, should be constantly met with the
inquiry, Is this confirmed by my experience, or rendered probable by the analogous facts
which this experience furnishes ? The testimony of others, and the authority of their opin-
ions, should influence us greatly, not to change our opinions against the evidence of conscious-
ness, but to revise these opinions with care, and often to suspect the exactness or the candor
of our own observations, whenever the weight of authority is against our own convictions. But
in psychology, pure authority has no weight against the final decision of consciousness itself.
Conditions of § "• ^° reacn tn^s decision, two conditions are necessary :
reaching the dc- J7irst that we fully understand the questions which we are
cisions of con- * * *■
sckmsness. to decide, in all their import- and in all the relations which
I
§ 100. THE REFLECTIVE, OR PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 115
they involve ; and second, that we patiently and candidly nse all the appli
ances and tests which are at hand to determine the answer. The greatest
practical difficulty in settling questions in psychology arises from the circum
stance that we do not, first and foremost, make ourselves fully and famil-
iarly acquainted with the questions which are to be decided. We too
often assume that we fully understand what we have only imperfectly
mastered. Or if we apprehend the point in question for a moment, we
fail to make it so familiar to our thoughts as is necessary in order to view
it at all times in all its relations, and to decide with a full and distinct
appreciation of the entire import of all which it involves. Men are reluc-
tant to bestow this preliminary reflection, because they think that they
are already fully acquainted with the question in discussion, and the term?
and distinctions involved.
All men know something about their own souls, and are able to pronounce with confi-
dence upon many questions that are in controversy. They hastily conclude that they under-
stand every question as soon as it is propounded, and are often in haste to decide, before they
have fairly ascertained what the question is. Hence the misunderstandings and disputes be-
tween men who are apparently in earnest to discover the truth ; hence the warmth with which
each disputant maintains his opinion, and the obstinacy with which he defends it against
attack. Each man is quite certain that what he has in mind is true ; but is he equally sure
that his antagonist and himself have the same thing in mind ? or that either has all and no more
in mind than is properly understood by the terms ? All men know something about psycholo-
gy, therefore many men decide upon any question which comes before them before they have
been careful to learn what the question is. All men are theologians and metaphysicians by
nature ; therefore they conclude that there is no question in theology or philosophy which
they are not at once competent to decide. They pronounce upon a problem before they are
fully possessed of the terms, the data, or the means of solving it. The very energy with which
they attend to some phenomena, and the blind impetuosity with which these facts drive them
to a conclusion, render it impossible that they should attend to all the facts. The exemplari-
ness, with which they comply with one of the conditions of successful reflection — viz., that they
attend — confirms them in the belief that they have complied with the second, viz., that they
attend to all the phenomena. They do not suspect that they have failed in the second,
through the earnestness with which they obey the first !
Uncertaintv and § ^®®' These considerations explain in part the apparent para-
sIs0TchoioSres9e-- ^ox or contradiction in terms which is presented in the claim,
plained. on the one side, that the facts of consciousness are the most
certain of all facts, and in the notorious fact, on the other, that many of
the simplest and most fundamental principles in psychology are yet unde-
cided, while its philosophical theories are the endless themes for never-
settled controversy.
The claim is a just one. The facts of consciousness are the most cer-
tain of all facts. The objects which consciousness presents are, if possible,
more real and better attested than the objects of sense. We can question
whether the eye and the ear do not deceive us ; whether the sights which
we see and the sounds which we hear are not illusions. We ask, at
116 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §100.
times, whether this entire sensible world is not a succession of shifting
phantasmagoria; but we cannot doubt whether we perform the acts of
seeing and hearing. We may question whether these objects are what
they seem to be, but not whether certain acts are in reality performed.
We may doubt whether this or that object be a reality or a phantasm, but
we cannot doubt that we doubt. Nothing in the universe is so certain,
and deserves so well to be trusted, as the psychical phenomena of which
each man is conscious.
On the other hand, the fact adduced in objection cannot be disputed.
Psychology is unsettled, and every treatise which professes to give the
facts of the soul in scientific form and relations, abounds in criticisms of
theories that are still adhered to, and in controversy against opinions that
are maintained by eminent writers. How can this fact be reconciled with
the claims to superior clearness and certainty that are asserted for the
facts of consciousness ?
The positions which we have laid down in respect to the relations of
the natural to the reflective consciousness, enable us to reconcile this appar-
ent inconsistency. First of all it is to be noticed, that there is as much
vagueness and dispute in respect to the less obvious conceptions and rela*
tions of material objects, as in respect to the more recondite relations of
psychical phenomena. The obvious facts and relations of matter are
accepted without controversy, and are described in popular language.
Those which are less obvious, or which involve nice observation, careful
discrimination, or some speculative assumption, are quite as much in con-
troversy as are the obvious phenomena of the soul when subjected to
philosophical elaboration. The metaphysics of mathematics, of physics,
of chemistry, are as much in doubt and controversy as are the meta-
physics of psychical facts. It is because psychology always resolves itself
into metaphysics, that psychology always rushes into controversy.
Moreover, it not only concerns itself with its own metaphysics — those which are appropri-
ate to its own facts — but it shoulders the metaphysics of all the material sciences, and trans-
fers to its own arena the smoke and dust that properly belong to the doubtful questions on
other fields, and therefore incurs the special reproach to which we have alluded. One reason
why psychology is always vague and unsettled, is that it attempts more than do the physical sci-
ences, going more deeply than they into the philosophy of its appropriate facts. Another rea-
son is, that the reflective consciousness always aims to give the philosophical relations and
explanations and definitions of psychical facts. Indeed, the language of common life does to
a certain extent embody a philosophy, as well as utter the beliefs of the natural consciousness.
When, then, it is asserted that the facts of spiritual experience are better worthy to be trusted
than the facts of sense and of matter, it is only claimed, that what is experienced, as experi-
enced, is worthy of confidence, and actually secures it ; not that, when it is expressed in lan-
guage, especially in the language of the schools, it is placed on higher grounds of certainty.
It is what we experience in the natural consciousness, not what is philosophized upon in the
reflective consciousness, that deserves and receives such implicit trust. We grant that it ia
not so easy to shape our philosophy by our facts, nor to test our philosophy by our facts, in
the psychical as in the physical sciences. This leads us to observe that :
§101. THE REFLECTIVE, OR PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 11/
§ 101. The peculiar difficulties which the student of psy
ties in the study chology must expect to encounter will be suggested by the
analysis which we have given of the two sorts of conscious-
ness. They are the following :
First : The objects of contemplation are not, as in the material world,
permanent objects, to which the mind can come and go, so as to bestow
repeated observations, till every feature and relation has been carefully
and minutely examined. In the science of the soul, the objects — i. e., the
phenomena — cease to be, while consciousness surveys them. Material
objects become more vivid and distinct the more keenly the attention is
fixed upon them ; but the objects of consciousness are consumed by the
concentrated gaze of reflection which would master the secrets of their
being. The repeated creation of a similar object for the second applica-
tion of consciousness is the only substitute for the continued examination
of the same object.
Second : Two observers, and, if need be, twenty, or twenty thousand,
can examine and reexamine the same material object. But the objects of
the soul can be surveyed by a single observer for a single instant only.
If many observers agree to examine in order to analyze what they con-
ceive to be the same object, it is sometimes difficult for them to be entirely
sure that the objects before their minds are actually the same.
Third : The testimony or report which, one observer brings of his ex-
amination, cannot avail as a substitute for personal inspection by the stu-
dent himself. Should he even confide entirely in the competence and the
candor of another party, he needs to observe for himself in order to be
sure of the identity of the object concerning which he accepts the testi-
mony of another.
Fourth : Objects of sense are clearly distinguished from and set over
against the soul that observes them. In the very act of observation the
soul separates them from itself. Objects of the soul are known not to be
severed in fact from the soul which observes. For the soul attentively
to view its own states as objects to itself, there is required a special and
constrained effort. " The understanding," says Locke, " like the eye, while
it makes us see and perceive all other things, takes no notice of itself; and
it requires art and pains to set it at a distance, and make it its own
object."
Fifth : The act of reflection, or second-thinking, for the sole purpose
of examining the nature of the act or state already experienced, is espe-
cially artificial, and against nature, for the reason that men usually act for
some direct object of use, enjoyment, or duty, and, in thus acting, their
look must necessarily be outward and objective. It is necessary, if men
would act with interest and energy, that their feelings be strongly aroused
by the object itself. But to reproduce the act a second time, or its pale
reflection, for the sole purpose of seeing of what sort or nature it is, is not
118 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. § 101,
natural, because most men are not greatly interested to know thoroughly
and scientifically what their actions are. Or, if they are interested in this
as an end, yet the reproduction, and the continuation through successive
reproductions of an act or state, for the mere object of examining its
nature, is embarrassed by the difficulty of reproducing it without the ex-
citement of its appropriate object. We perceive, remember, and imagine,
hope and fear, choose and reject, naturally and readily enough, when the
objects arouse and excite us ; but to perceive and re-perceive, to hope and
fear again and again, simply that we may know more exactly how it
seems or what it is to perform or experience these states, are, at best,
forced and unnatural efforts. Nothing but the deepest convictions of the
dignity and value of the results in the acquisition of intellectual dis-
cipline and the advancement of psychological science, can impel to the
earnest undertaking of such efforts, and the patient prosecution of them to
a successful issue.
Sixth : The objects of matter invite to analysis by their obtrusive like-
nesses and differences. The phenomena of the soul do not present such
obvious occasions for analysis. Material objects do, as it were, indicate by
dividing lines, by intersecting seams, by salient and projecting points, the
sections into which the object falls apart under the eye of analysis. In-
deed, Nature herself is continually separating and combining these objects
before our eyes, changing color and form, disintegrating and throwing
apart the diverse materials which are aggregated into masses by mechan-
ical attraction ; as when the frost breaks up and rolls out the different
ingredients of a rock ; or decomposes the ingredients chemically united,
as when, in fermentation or by heat or solvents, gases and precipitates
betray their presence to the senses. The so-called five senses can no sooner
be applied together or in succession to any object, than they begin at once
to suggest five sets of qualities or attributes, to say nothing of new rela-
tions of extension and of number.
To the analysis of the phenomena of the soul there are no such for-
ward promptings of nature. A psychical state, when viewed by con-
sciousness, does not suggest diverse attributes or relations. To bring
these to light, it must be brought into comparison with states like and un-
like itself. These must be recalled by memory, and vividly reproduced to
the imagination. One state must be artificially confronted with another,
for the sake of evolving some common poiuts of likeness or contrast.
All these circumstances combined explain the inherent difficulties of philosophical self-
observation, and the slow progress and the uncertain conquests of the science of the soul in
contrast with the rapid advances and the certain results of the science of matter. The history
of psychology is not, however, without gratifying attestations that its progress, though slow,
is real, and that its acquisitions, though often disputed, are more and more assured.
§ 103. SENSE-PERCEPTION. 118
CHAPTER III.
SENSE-PEECEPTION : THE CONDITIONS AND THE PEOCESS.
From consciousness, as the first faculty or form of presentative knowledge, which is concerned
with the objects of spirit and their relations, we proceed to the second, which is concerned
with the objects and relations of matter. We define
§ 102. Sense-perception as that power of the intellect by
Sense-perception °..1. .-,-, -.t n • i ■, • -r • i
defined and dis- which it gams the knowledge oi material obiects. It is also
tinguished. ° J
called sensible perception, or simply, perception. We apply
these terms to the power, the act, and even to the object. Thus we say,
Man is endowed with perception ; i. e., with the power to perceive. We
say, My perception of the color or sound was clear and vivid — describing
the act of perceiving. We also ask, Do you recall certain perceptions, as
of color or form ? — emphasizing the object.
The terms to perceive and perception, are applied freely to other acts and objects of
knowledge besides those which require the agency of the senses. We are said to perceive, and
to have perceptions of mathematical distinctions, of the drift and force of reasoning, of the
design of a machine, and of the purpose of- an antagonist. But perception, in the technical
and limited sense of the term, is appropriated to the knowledge of material objects, and of
the external world. This knowledge is gained or acquired by means of the senses, and hence,
to be more exact, we call it sensible perception, or,, more briefly, sense-perception.
is developed ear- 8 103. Sense-perception is called into activity first of ail
liest of all the s * \ .. • „ -,-,--,,-,-,
powers, seems the powers of the intellect. It is educated and fully devel-
to be the most r". ._,_, , .
familiar. oped m our earliest years, at a period and by processes which
we cannot distinctly recall to memory. Its objects occupy the almost
exclusive attention of the great majority of men, and excite their most
absorbing interest and their strongest passions. It is also the essential
condition and attendant of their higher knowledge and beliefs. For all
these and other reasons, it naturally receives the earliest attention in the
study of the intellectual powers.
The processes of sense-perception seem to most men to be the most familiar and the best
understood of all their intellectual acts. They introduce them to those sensible and material
objects which are generally believed to be the most real of all existences. They minister
pleasures and pains, and excite passions which take the strongest hold of man's nature. Their
activity is more constant, unremitted, and energetic than is that of any other function. So long
as man continues to exist in the present form and conditions of his being, he never ceases to
perceive. Some of the senses are all the while in action. Sense-perceptions are present in
his loftiest speculations and his most refined reasonings. They often force themselves upon
the reluctant attention. The world of sense holds man to its realities in the most ethereal of
120 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §105
his flights, and never ceases to be the dark or radiant background to the brightest pictures oi
his fancy. Sensations visit man in sleep. They disturb or soothe his repose. They haunt him
in his very dreams. With sensations and sense-perceptions man begins and ends his earthly
existence.
8 104. But though this power is developed so early and
Is not the most ° ° r . r J
easily tinder- exercised so constantly, and, at first view, seems so easy to
be understood ; it is far from easy to analyze its elements, or
to explain its processes. To understand sense-perception, we must study
the body as well as the mind ; we must trace out, and, as it were, unwind
the subtle connections by which the two are united ; we must show how
far the one is dependent on the other ; what each furnishes toward the
result, and wThat are the separable acts or processes in which the action
of each may be distinguished.
In point of fact, the power of sense-perception has received a greater share of attention
in the science of the soul than all the other powers and faculties united. This can be
accounted for, because it would naturally first attract the attention, seeming to be the easiest
to be understood because the most familiar. Being found to be difficult of analysis and expla-
nation, it would detain and hold the attention, because the mind was puzzled and disturbed by
these unexpected difficulties. Its phenomena are dependent on material conditions, and
physical or material explanations would be readily suggested to account for them. These are
readily resorted to in the infancy of psychology.
For all these reasons we can understand how it has happened that theories of perception
have occasioned more speculation and more controversy than theories on every other subject
in psychological science. Not only have they misled men in respect to their proper subject-
matter, but they have led to incorrect conceptions of the soul itself, and to erroneous views
of all the other powers. Many of them have involved materialistic assumptions, or have
logically required the grossest materialism as their necessary consequent. Such inferences
have been actually accepted by many as the result of a false or inadequate theory of sense-
perception.
8 105. The first requisite to a correct theory of perception
Distinguished . in .
from other men- is to separate the act from every other with which it is likely
to be confounded. As the power gives us knowledge of
material objects, it is not unnatural to suppose or hastily to conclude that
much, if not all the knowledge which we have of matter, is gained by this
process alone. A more careful examination shows that we gain very much
of our knowledge of these objects by the exercise of the other and higher
intellectual powers. This examination can be conducted most successfully
by taking a single example of some well-known object, and inquiring how
great a share of our knowledge of it we do, and how great we do not
gain by sense-perception.
Knowledge of ^e se*ect an orange> an{* inquire first what acts of knowledge in respect to
matter not gain- it are not acts of perception ; and second, what knowledge is properly
eeption.enSe_Per" ascribed to this power as its proper origin and source. We shall then be
prepared to consider how this power can be defined, and what are the ele-
ments into which it can be resolved.
We first look at the orange, and immediately supply the half which we do not see — the
§106. SENSE-PERCEPTION. 121
portion of the sphere which is hidden. We know, or believe, the orange to be spherical. Th<
part which we supply we do not perceive by the eye of the body ; we only image it to the
' mind's eye.' If we close the eyes, we can with the eye of the mind picture and discern the
yellow orange ; but the orange which we know in this way we do not perceive. We may imagine
the color to be changed, and make it green, or blue, to the mental vision. We can change
its form even, and make it elliptical ; we can enlarge or contract its dimensions, without chang-
ing its form. All these are acts of imagination or representation, but not acts of perception
We can separate its form, as spherical, from all material reality, and can construct the
abstract or mathematical sphere for the mind to consider and analyze. We can reflect on its
properties and its relations to the circle by the revolution of which it is conceived to be pro-
duced. The discernment of the mathematical forms, properties, and relations which may be
applied to the orange is not perception.
We know, or believe, that the orange has sensible qualities, as of taste, color, feeling, smell,
and that all these are inherent in or belong to the something which we call their substance.
The knowledge of the orange as substance and qualities is not necessarily involved in perception.
We observe that other objects possess qualities like some of those which belong to the
orange — that some are yellow, others are round, etc. — and are therefore properly classed with
it and receive a common appellation. But classification and naming are not perception.
We can know that this fruit has been produced by the powers and under the laws which
are appropriate to vegetable life ; or, in other words, that it is an effect of certain agencies
which we can satisfactorily determine. Knowledge of this sort is not essential to perception.
We can know, by reasoning, that it will produce certain effects if eaten, or used in illness;
but this we do not know by simple perception.
We can go still further, and know, or certainly believe, that it is adapted to and was de-
signed for certain uses or ends ; that it exists or was produced with reference to these ends —
as to minister comfort and afford nutriment to man. The knowledge of designs and uses is
not necessarily present in the simplest forms of perception.
It is evident that all these acts of knowledge may be performed upon or with
What are acta respect to the orange, and that none of them are simply acts of sense-percep-
of sense-percep- _ . „ , , , , ...
tion 1 tion. It is equally clear that there are other acts which are the prerequisites
to these ; so that, if we did not know something more of the orange than
we acquire in these ways, we could never know the orange by these higher methods. This
preliminary knowledge remains to be considered, after these higher processes are set aside.
Knwled e § 106. What is this preliminary knowledge, and what the
that is gained processes by which it is grained ? We answer at once, It is
by sense-percep- r J & _ '
tion- the knowledge which is necessarily involved in the use of the
organs of sense, or of the senses.
Let us try the senses upon the orange, one by one ; and first the sense
of smell, suspending the action of every other. We perceive a grateful
odor, and that is all we know of the orange by this means. Should or
could we remain in this supposed condition, this is all that we should ever
know of it.
We open the ear, and the orange falls, or is struck. We hear the
sound from the fall, or the stroke, and this is all that we know by the ear.
We taste the orange. At once two kinds of knowledge are given, as
two senses awake to action — the senses of taste and of touch. For the
tongue is as truly an organ of touch as it is of taste. But if we could
separate the touch from the taste, ^Ye should perceive the flavor only.
122 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 106.
We grasp it with the hand, first lightly, so as only to be aware of its
presence, then with greater force of pressure, so as to encounter resist-
ance! We pass the hand over the surface, and perceive that it is smooth
or rough. We come to its limits ; for the hand is in contact with another
something. This object can be separated from the orange. It can by the
hand be brought near or removed from it. Through the hand we can per-
ceive the object as impinging and resisting, as smooth or rough, as having
extension and form.
Last of all, wre open the eye. A surface of color presents itself, sepa-
rated from other shaded aud colored surfaces by an encircling ring. The
color is shaded by the most delicate transitions, deepening here, almost
vanishing there. As the orange is near or remote, the limiting or bound-
ing circle widens or is contracted, and the colors are feeble or bright.
The eye gives colored extension, form, motion, and relative size. Were
we all eye, we should perceive nothing more.
In connection with the use of these organs, we perceive or are aware
of certain changing affections that attend upon the varying condition of
the muscles that direct and move the sense-organs. We know the mus-
cles as tense and as relaxed. We apprehend the affection that belongs to
the grasp that is firm and that which is relaxed ; * the feeling that attends
the stretching forth and the withdrawment of the hand. Certain vital
and muscular affections are known in connection with the sense-percep-
tions.
These various knowledges, or percepts, obtained by these several
means, we combine into one separate and single object, occupying a lim-
ited portion of space. The process of perception is not complete till we
have attained the knowledge of single objects, made up by the mind of
separate parts corresponding to the several senses, and having definite
relations of form and magnitude. Such an object we call a material thing.
When we have gained such a knowledge of the object as enables us to
recall and otherwise use it as a mental representation or object, we have
completed all that is essential to the process. In other words, we per-
ceive objects when we can retain and revive representations or images oi
them as separate things or wholes.
Much of our knowledge of sense-objects is acquired indirectly. We
make the knowledge received by one sense a substitute for that which we
might receive by another. Thus, by the color of the orange wre know its
taste ; by its appearance to the eye, its feeling to the hand — whether it is
hard or soft, whether it is green or ripe. We know an object to be near,
by the distinctness or sharpness of its outline and the vividness of its
color. We know it is remote by the dimness of the line and the dulness
of the color. We determine its distance by its size, and its size by its
distance. Knowledge obtained by such processes is called acquired per-
ception. The knowledge of sense-objects under the relations of substance
§ 108. THE CONDITIONS OF SENSE-PEKCEPTIOA . VA'C
and qualities involves the application of still higher relations and powers
of the intellect.
§107. This general outline or preliminary analysis of sense-
Besultsofanaly- s & . r. J J
sis. Eight topics perception has shown that it is dependent on corporeal
proposed. x x ^ ... ....._ . _
organs or instruments ; that it is attended by special sensa-
tions, each differing in quality and intensity according to the constitution
and condition of its appropriate organ ; that in connection with each of
these sensations we gain a positive knowledge of material objects ; that we
unite these knowledges, so as to gain and retain perceptions of separate
material things, and that we gain this knowledge of things both by direct
observation and indirect inference. It also opens for us the following dis-
tinct topics of inquiry :
I. The conditions or media of Sense- Perception. — II. The process of
Sense-Perception, in its two elements of Sensation and Perception.—
HI. The classes of Sense- Perceptions. — IV. The acquired Sense-Percep-
tions.— V. The development and growth of Sense-Perception. — VI. The
products of Sense-Perception. — VII. Activity of the Soul in Sense-Percep-
tion.— VJH. Theories of Sense-Perception.
I. The conditions or media of sense-perception.
8 108. We perceive by means of certain bodily organs, and
The conditions " * . J . J_ ° .
enumerated, on the condition that these organs are excited by their ap«
The first condi- . . 7. ° _ - , J r
tion. propriate objects or stimuli, and that the nervous system
with which these organs are connected, shares in this excitation. These
conditions of sense-perception are purely physiological, and are discovered
by the senses. The first condition is the existence of a material, nervous,
and sensorial organism.
To understand the structure and office of the organs of sense-perception, and
The material or- ^heir relation to psychical experience and activities, we must consider some
ganism. general facts in the structure of the body of which these organs are a part.
The human body is material in its composition ; i. c, it consists of particles
of matter which are endowed with the properties, and subject to the laws which belong to
matter in general. Its skeleton is a framework of bones, the parts of which, like those of
any other framework, can be broken into fragments by a blow or a fall. These are fitted
together with obvious mechanical ingenuity, and are firmly held in their places by strong and
well-banded ligaments. This framework is so shaped and adjusted as to serve as the support
of the muscles, which both hold the parts together and wall in the principal cavities. They
also originate and convey motion — the motions of the several parts, and of the whole, accord-
ing to mechanical laws. The several cavities of the trunk contain special organs, which,
with their connected tubes, digest the food, assimilate the nutriment, circulate the blood and
other fluids, and aerate the blood through the expanding lungs by contact with the oxygen of
■the atmosphere. These parts, with the nervous system, constitute an organism, or organic
whole. Such an organism differs from a machine, in that each of its separate material parts
performs certain functions, as digestion, secretion, circulation, respiration, each of which is
peculiar, and appropriate to no other organ. This function is essential to the existence and
124 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §108.
action of every other organ, and to the performance of its special function ; while all must act
together in order to further or render possible the special action of each. The united action
of the whole is essential to the separate action of each part ; and the separate action of each
part is essential to the united action of the whole. If digestion is weakened or arrested, the
blood ceases to move and the lungs to expand, or both these functions are irregularly and
imperfectly performed. Death may ensue. That which showed itself to be alive, by the perform-
ance of all these functions, now shows itself to be dead by performing them no more. The
matter of which it was composed is given over to those agents of decomposition which they
before resisted, and the particles themselves are disintegrated, and fall asunder. The once
living organism is now dead matter.
In this living organism is present a system of organs, con-
Thfi nervous sys- sigting of the brain, the ganglia, and the nerves. The nerves
are filaments which terminate on every surface and at every
extremity of the body, and penetrate every portion, even the very bones.
They are interlaced with one another, and are occasionally expanded intc
large knots or masses of their substance. These expansions are called
ganglia, and serve as independent centres of nervous activity and force
The nerves increase in size as they approach the ganglia, the spinal mar
row, and the brain. By means of the ganglia and the spinal marrow, the*v-
are all connected with the brain, which is itself a larger ganglion, or sys-
tem of ganglia — a large convoluted mass made up of the same two species
of matter of which the whole nervous system consists. This system of
nerves performs several distinct functions, all important to the life and
well-being of the body. If some or all of the nerves are diseased, single
organs fail, or the entire body perishes. If the spinal marrow is injured
by disease or violence, the limbs are wholly or in part disabled. If the
brain is shocked by concussion, life is suspended, or returns no more.
The function of the nervous system with which we are
The sensorium. specially concerned, relates to sensation. To fit the nerves
for this function, they are connected with various organs, the
most noticeable of which are the eye, the ear, the nostril, the hand. These
are framed with special adaptation to their appropriate objects, and suffer
certain changes or impressions from these objects, all of which are neces-
ary to the sense-perception. These organs, with the nerves attached, as
capable of the sentient functions in an animated or living organism, are
known by the collective term, the sensorium, or sensory. The term is
technical, and is appropriate to those organs and nerves, and only those,
which bear some part in the process of perception, and so far only as their
function relates to this process.
We must notice another function of the nervous system
The reflex action which is intimately connected with perception, viz., their
of the nerves. ^ .
capacity for reflex action. The nervous filaments which pro-
ceed from the external and other organs run side by side in pairs, two
being united within the same covering or sheath, and connected by inter-
woven fibres. If any part where they terminate is irritated, or excited
§109. THE CONDITIONS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 125
in any way, one of these filaments conveys the notice to the brain or
ganglion, and the other conveys the stimulus back to the place where the
impression c sensation occurred. "We say the impression or sensation, for
it is by no means essential that the soul should feel pleasure or pain, or in
any way be aware of the occurrence. Whatever the excitement may be,
the companion nerve responds to the call of its associate, and contracts,
convulses, or moves appropriately the muscle or the organ which is
aroused. A message of invitation or warning flashes inward along one
of these mysterious filaments, the afferent. An answer is sent at once
outward by the efferent to the place from which it came, and the answer
is obeyed. This may be done without the intervention or the knowledge
of the soul. The nerves arranged for this special service of the senses and
of motion are called the senso-motor, and the general action which we have
described is called their reflex action.
The nerves, it will be observed, are the subjects of diverse affections
or iDhenomena. First, they are subject to mechanical action and change.
Like other filaments, they can be bruised, rent, or cut. Second, their con-
stituent elements suffer chemical changes. Third, they minister to the
healthy or unhealthy action of all the vital and sense-organs. Fourth,
they are capable of various reflex actions, both occasional in response to
casual excitements, and regular, as in sustaining the involuntary action of
the heart, lungs, and other organs. Fifth, last of all, when a sentient soul
makes this organism living, they are capable of a special affection or ex-
citement, wThich is the condition of sensation and sense-perception. The
first and essential requisite to sense-perception is the existence of the sen-
sor ium as thus defined.
8 109. The second requisite to sense-perception is the exist-
The second con- ° *■ x *
dition is an ob- ence and the presence of appropriate objects. We say in
ject or excitant. ' r ..,,,. . .. . .
general, there must be visible objects in order to vision :
audible objects in order to hearing : tangible objects in order to touch. In
other language we say, objects, to be perceived, must be luminous, sonorous,
resisting ; or, more abstractly, there must be light, sound, and hardness, or
there cannot be vision, hearing, or touch.
One apparent exception to this principle occurs in the case of the so-called subjective
sensations which are excited by stimulating the nerves by peculiar agents. Thus the optic
nerve, under electrical applications, may be so excited as to occasion flashes of light. Sparks
are perceived, from a blow or contusion. Slight sensations of smell and of taste, also a ring-
ing or whizzing in the ears, are occasioned by electrical action. Experiments of this kind
prove that the sensation depends entirely on the excitement of a part of the sensory to a given
species of activity, and that this excitement is idiopathic, or limited to the nerve or nerves
concerned; e. g., the optic nerve alone emits light; the acoustic nerve, sound, etc., etc.
Physical researches into the nature of the objects of sense-perception have convinced many
philosophers that their action upon, or their power to affect the sensorium depends on the
motion of the particles of matter. In the view of such, all objects which are perceived are
capable of a more or less frequent motion ; and according to its greater or less rapidity, wher
126 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. §111
it property affects the nervous organism, is the sense-perception in its quality and intensity.
Thus light, as perceived, is resolved into undulating ether, and according as its undulations are
more or less rapid, so the object seen is scarlet, violet, red, or yellow. Sound is also depend-
ent on similar vibrations. So, as is presumed by analogy, is it with smell, taste, and touch.
Similar conclusions are accepted with respect to heat, and the various forms of pleasurable or
painful muscular and subjective experiences, as of bruising, tearing, etc., etc. This analysis,
with its results, is simply physical. It proves only in what condition matter is or must be, in
order to be perceived. Its inquiries respect only the physical conditions of the sense-percep-
tions. They shed no light at all upon the experiences of the soul. What the soul experiences
and apprehends are not motions of any kind, but different sounds, tastes, smells, colors. As
physical researches, these inquiries are legitimate and attractive. But to psychology they have
no application, because they stand in no rational connection with the phenomena to be
explained. Cf. H. Lotze, Mikrolcosmus, vol. ii. B. V. c. 2.
The third conai- § 110# "^ne third condition of sense-perception is the action
tion. its action 0f ^ 0biect upon the sensorium." In order to receive this
on the senso- J *■
num. action, the external organs must be in a normal condition — viz.
the eye, the ear, the palate, and the skin. If any lesion or disease occurs,
the perception is irregular or impossible. In like manner, if the nerves
are diseased or destroyed, the perceptions are disturbed or prevented.
Let the optic nerve be injured, and the vision is doubled, clouded, or ex-
tinguished. So is it with hearing, with touch, with smell, and with taste.
It is contended by many (L. George, Diefilnf Sinne, Berlin, 1846 ; J. D. Morell, Outlines,
etc., Lond., 1862), that the excitement of the sensorium to the condition favorable to sense-
perception is simply the arousing of its nerve substance to vibratory action or motion. Strong
confirmation of this view is derived from the kindred doctrine that the objects of perception
are matter in different modes and rates of motion. As the researches and speculations in
respect to matter are purely physical, so this inquiry and its results are exclusively physio-
logical. They relate only to the conditions, but furnish no explanation of the psychical phe-
nomena as experiences or acts of the soul. As the soul does not perceive undulating matter
in light and sound, no more does it perceive the vibrating nerves which proceed from the eye
and the ear. Psychologically — i. <?., in its conscious experience — it knows nothing of these
objective or subjective conditions, either as physical or nervous requisites to its own states.
In its conscious states it feels and perceives, and it is conscious that it feels and perceives.
"What takes place in the matter without, or in the organ with which the matter comes in con-
tact, or in the nerve itself which proceeds from the organ, it can only view as a physical or
physiological condition to a psychical fact.
How, then, it may be asked, do we know that these three requisites must be present ?
We reply, Only indirectly. We learn it by inference. If the sensorium no longer exists,
there is no perception. If the object is withdrawn, as the luminous or sonorous matter, there
can be no perception. Perhaps it may be proved that, if the matter does not vibrate, the
result is similar. If the organ or the nerve is destroyed, the soul does not perceive. We
conclude that all these are its essential conditions. But that they are not the acts or states
themselves, will be still more manifest from the consideration of the act of sense-perception
c itself. We proceed next to :
h II. The process of sense-perception.
^ c § 111. The simplest form in which sense-perception is expe-
Bcnsc-perccption rienced is in connection with a single organ of sense. The
in the simplest . . .
form; what! states or acts which we ordinarily call sense-perceptions, by
$ 111. THE PEOCESS OF SENSE-PEECEPTION. 127
which we apprehend the most familiar objects, as a table, a chair, a horse,
or a dog, are made up of too many elements to allow us to discern the
precise character of the elements or the steps of the process itself. It is
only when we consider a single act, as of seeing and hearing, and of the
simplest object, as a single color or sound, that we are in a condition to
determine what are the essential nature and elements of the act itself.
The most general answer which we make to our inquiry is,
It is psychical, . . & -,■-,.. . -, ■, • i -, *,
not physioiogi- that it is clearly and distinctively a psychical and not a phys-
iological phenomenon. We are prepared, by our previous
analysis, to distinguish perception from the organic instruments and con-
ditions that are essential to it. Neither the eye nor the optic nerve, nor
the image formed on the retina, nor the nervous response to the image —
none of these, nor all of them together, constitute vision. The picture may
be formed, the nerve maybe stimulated to reflex activity, so as to contract
the iris or let fall the eyelid, and yet there may be no sight. If a hot iron
is applied to the flesh, and the soul does not feel and apprehend, there is
no sense-perception. It may disorganize and destroy the flesh, consum-
ing it to the bone, and yet, if the soul does not respond, the phenomenon
which we seek for does not occur. In order to this, another element must
be furnished, and a new energy must be aroused from the soul itself. Its
presence and its nature are known by consciousness. Its physical con-
ditions are observed by the senses and traced out by physiological analysis.
The anatomist separates and follows the one class of phenomena by his
dissecting knife, interpreting the functions which he does not observe.
Consciousness watches the other, notes their similarities and differences,
refers them to their agent and records their products.
Let us, then, leave these physical or physiological con-
»f two elements' d-Hions, an<^ consult consciousness alone. We inquire of
consciousness, What is the psychical act or state ? She
replies, It is a process complex in its nature, but instantaneous in time. It
is complex, because the soul, in its single act, discerns two objects — its
own condition and some material reality. One of these is subjective, and
hence is called a subject-object / the other is objective, and is denominated
an object-object. One element is called sensation, or sensation proper y
the other is called perception^ or perception proper. The one of these is
an element involving feeling ; the other is intellectual, being an act of
knowledge. Each requires the other. Each is the attendant of the other.
There can be no perception without sensation, nor can sensation occur
without perception.
The elements un^ But though these two elements coexist, it is with unequal
equal in energy ; " . . x
in the same, and energy. Ihe one activity is always at the expense of the
the different sen- , T„ ... . . „ ,,
ses. other. It sensation is intense, perception is feeble. If per-
ception is energetic and absorbing, sensation is weak and scarcely ob-
served. The operation of this law is seen in the several senses, and in the
128 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §113.
differing states or energies of single and separate senses. In vision, as
compared with smell and hearing, perception prevails ; while in the latter
sensation is in excess. In the perception of bright and stimulating color,
as contrasted with the discernment of form and outlines, sensation is con-
spicuous in the one, and perception in the other. If we look at the un-
clouded sun at midday, we cannot perceive distinctly, by reason of the
blinding and painful sensations ; if its disc is overcast, or a darkened glass
is interposed, the perception is more distinct and easy, by the repression
of the sensations.
This brief statement involves the doctrine that the soul in the same instantaneous and
single act exists in a twofold activity. Stated in other language, it is, that every act of sense-
perception involves the element of sensation and the element of perception. These elements
need to be separately considered in order that we may understand their real character and
their mutual relations.
Sensation proper § ^ ^" $ensati°n proper, or the sensational element, comes
pertains to the f}rst jn order. This does not occur alone or apart. Pure
sensation is simply an ideal or imaginary experience. Its na-
ture can be determined only by laying out cf view certain characteristics
which always attend it. Though sensation always occurs with perception,
it may be clearly distinguished from it. Sensation, thus considered, is
A subjective experience of the soul, as animating an extended sen*
sorium, usually more or less pleasurable or painful, and always occa*
sioned by some excitement of the organism. This definition implies,
First of all, that sensation pertains properly to the soul, as contra-
distinguished from material things or corporeal agents. The sensation
of touch is not in the orange, the sensation of heat is not in the burn-
ing flame, but both are experienced by the sentient soul. The sensation
of sweetness is not in the sugar, that of sourness is not in the vinegar.
There can be no music when orchestra and audience are both stone-deaf.
As all sensations pertain to the soul which experiences them, they can
properly be said to be subjective. As the most of them are positively
agreeable or the opposite, they are nearly akin to those emotions, as- hope
or terror, or those passions, as anger and envy, which are acknowledged by
all to belong exclusively to the spirit, and to involve no relation whatever
to matter or the bodily organism. Such feelings are not infrequently
styled sensations, though improperly.
,8 113. Second, the sensations, though subjective in the
Yet experienced " ' ? o «;
• by the soui con- sense already defined, are yet experienced by the soul as con-
nected with an J , . -i
organism. nected with a corporeal organism, and are directly distin-
guished in this from emotions proper, on the one hand, and from percep-
" tions proper, on the other. The soul has a subjective experience of heat,
^v hardness, sweetness, sourness, etc., but it has this experience as an agent
which is connected with and animates an extended sensorium. The sev-
eral sensations, though like the purely spiritual emotions in being agree-
§113. THE PROCESS OF SEXSE-PERCEPTION. 129
able, or the opposite, are unlike them in being felt by the soul as existing
in a peculiar form of being and activity, viz., that of corporeal sensibility.
That which feels is not the soul as pure spirit, but spirit as animating an
organism.
It is but a part of the truth which Reid utters, when he says : " This sensation [of smell]
can be nothing else than it is felt to be. Its very essence consists in being felt ; and when it is
not felt, it is not. There is no difference between the sensation, and the feeling of it ; they are
one and the same thing." "As to the sensations and feelings that are agreeable or disagree-
able, they differ much, not only in degree, but in kind and dignity. Some belong to the ani-
mal part of our nature, and are common to us with the brutes ; others belong to the rational
and moral part. The first are more properly called sensations, the last, feelings.'''' Essays,
Intell. Powers, ii. c. 16.
Berkeley, Theory of Vision, says to the same effect : " The objects intromitted by sight
would seem to him [a man b,orn blind], as indeed they are, no other than a new set of
thoughts or sensations, each whereof is as near to him as the perceptions of pain and pleasure,
or the most inward passions of the soul." Cf. Dugald Stewart, Elements, etc., chaps, i. and
v. p. ii. § 1 ; Dr. Thomas Brown, Lectures, etc., 19-25 ; Prof. Thomas C. ITpham, Element*,
etc., Intellect., § 49.
Reid certainly would not say that the pain, or the painful sensation, which is occasioned
by a burn, a cut, or a blow, is precisely like the pain which is occasioned by the death of a
friend, the loss of fortune, or the failure of a darling project. Both these classes of states,
when not felt, have no existence ; they both pertain to the soul, and to the soul only, as distin-
guished from the objects which occasion them. Both are alike subjective. Both are alike in
being disagreeable, hence both are called painful. But one is experienced by the soul as con-
nected with an organism, while the other is felt in the soul without reference to the sensorium
at all. They are not merely unlike, as one painful sensation or one painful emotion is unlike
another in subjective quality or intensity, but as a sensation is unlike an emotion, in that the
one is felt by the soul as known by itself to act and suffer as animating an extended portion
of living matter, and the other is experienced by the soul in its capacity to act and suffer
without conscious relation to matter at all.
This peculiar feature of sensation is made still more obvious by the difference discerned by
the soul between the sensation itself as a pleasant or painful experience, and the effort of the
soul to retain or reject it ; in other words, by the manifest difference between the sensation
proper and the consequent desire or aversion. The one is an experience of the soul as suffer-
ing while consciously connected with the organism ; the other is purely spiritual, the sponta-
neous acting of the soul's independent energy. In the sensation enjoyed or suffered, the soul
is blended inseparably with the sensorial organism ; in the reacting or resilient desire it is
sharply contrasted with it. In the one it knows itself connected with that from which it
imagines it might be detached ; in the other, it knows itself to act as a purely psychical agent.
" The organism is the field of apprehension, both to sensation proper and perception proper ;• but with this
difference : that the former views it as of the ego, the latter as of the non-ego ; that the one draws it within,
the other shuts it out from the sphere of self. As animated, as the subject of affections of which I am con-
scious, the organism belongs to me ; and of these affections which I recognize as mine, sensation proper is
the apprehension, As material, as the subject of extension, figure, divisibility, and so forth, the organism
does not belong to me, the conscious unit ; and of those properties, which I do not recognize as mine, per-
ception proper is the apprehension."
"It may appear, not a paradox merely, but a contradiction, to say, that the organism is at once
within and without the mind ; is at once subjective and objective ; is at once ego and non-ego. But so it
is, and so we must admit it to be, unless, on the one hand, as materialists, we identify mind with matter,
or, on the other, as idealists, we identify matter with mind. The organism, as animated, as sentient, ia
necessarily ours ; and its affections are only felt as affections of the indivisible ego. In this respect, and to
this extent, our organs are not external to ourselves. But our organism is not merely a sentient subject, it
9
130 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 114,
is at the same time an extended, figured, divisible, in a word, a material, subject ; and tbe same sensations
which are reduced to unity in the indivisibility of consciousness are in the divisible organism recognized as
plural and reciprocally external, and, therefore, as extended, figured, and divided. Such is the fact : but
how the immaterial can be united with matter, how the unextended can apprehend extension, how the
indivisible can measure the divided,— this is the mystery of mysteries to man."— Sir "William Hamilton,
Works of Beid, Note D* 18 and f cot-note, p. 880 (Cf. 35, 38, 39). Cf. J. Muller, H-B. d. Physiol, d. Menschen,
B. V.
The philosophers of the English and Erench schools have almost irniversally considered sensation as a
phenomenon exclusively spiritual and subjective. Even Hamilton lays down the unqualified position, that
sensation and perception are distinguished as feeling and knowledge. Most of them are by a logical neces-
sity forced to distinguish perception from sensation, as being the apprehension of the objective cause or occa-
sion of this subjective experience. They reason thus in the disjunctive method. Sensation must either be
a phenomenon purely spiritual and subjective, or purely material and objective. It cannot be the last,
because that would make it one with perception. It must therefore be the former. This conclusion waa
accepted with all the inconveniences and embarrassments which are familiar to the student who is versed
in the history of the various theories of perception.
Those who reasoned in this way did not notice, that from their assumed premise another conclusion
equally embarrassing might be derived, e. g., There can be but two classes of mental states — the simply
and purely subjective and the simply objective. Sensations and emotions can neither belong to the last.
Therefore both must belong to the first, or emotions and sensations are in their essential features properly
classed together. This conclusion is contradicted by the conscious experience of every one. The only way
to escape it, is to deny the original premise, and instead of the dichotomy or twofold division, to substitute
another in its place which shall include a threefold possibility, viz., there are three classes of psychical
phenomena possible — the purely subjective or incorporeal, the purely objective and corporeal, and a third,
midway between the two, partaking of attributes common to both. These three are the emotions, the per-
ceptions, and the sensations.
§ 114. Third : It is implied, in what has been said, that all
The sensations sensations are attended with a more or less distinct and
localized. . / ■. ,
definite relation of place in the sensonum. This relation of
place is at first very indefinitely apprehended; indeed, it may not be
attended to at all ; but there nmst be furnished, in the original experiences
of the soul, the means of discerning such a relation provided the attention
is directed to the sensation. It is impossible to believe that a pain in
the teeth or a pain in the head should not be known apart in place from
a pain in the foot ; that a burn in the foot and a wound in the arm should
not give directly to the mind the apprehension of a different place for
each. If the soul, in the experience of all its sensations, knows itself as
animating an extended sensorium, then in- each sensation it knows itself to
be affected in some separate part or portion of this extended organism
which it pervades.
Those who regard sensation as a purely subjective experience or phenomenon, exclude
from it all the relations of place or locality. These relations they appropriate to the causes of
the sensations. If an infant has a pain in the foot and a pain in the head, as sensations or
pains these are simply spiritual or psychical experiences. It is only when the causes of these
phenomena are discovered that the relations of place can be discerned. A different view of
the nature of pure sensation involves different consequents in respect to all the relations of
place.
" When it is asserted that every sensation gives or might give a relation of place, it is not
W intended that the relations of place involved in and given by the direct experience of an
original sensation are or could be apprehended so completely and so definitely as they are by
the aid of experience and the acquired perceptions ; but only that some knowledge, or the
materials for such knowledge, must be furnished in the original sensations.
§ 117. THE PROCESS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 13 J
Differ from one § 115, Fourth : The different sensations, as subjective expe.
iT°indriefim£ r^e]QCes °f tne sou^ differ greatly from one another in respect
ness- to quality and intensity ; in other words, they differ in kind
and degree. Each of the leading classes of sensations differs from each
of the other classes, as the sensations of sight from the sensations of touch
Under each of these broadly distinguished classes or kinds, special sensa-
tions differ from one another; as the different tastes, feelings, smells,
colors, etc., etc. What are called the same sensations, differ also in energy,
strength, or intensity ; as one shade of the same color, as red, is deeper
or more intense than another shade ; one odor is more pungent than an-
other. These several sensations are the subject-matter of direct or intui-
tive apprehension. We know that they are, and we know what they are
by direct experience. We know them in their relations also — i, e., in
their likenesses and differences, positions, etc. — by direct discernment.
No other explanation can be given of these facts than that we know them
to be, and know what they are, by direct intuition.
Fifth : The different sensations differ in respect to the greater or less
definiteness of {he part or place of the sensorium which is affected. Thus,
a sound or a smell is far less distinctly defined in any relations of place
than a sight or a touch. But more of this in another place.
We come next to perception or perception proper.
Perce tion ro - § H6. This, as has already been explained, is no separate
er, an act of act or state of the soul ; it is only a separable or distin-
puro knowledge. J r
its object. guishable element of a single complex act. Perception, as
such, is,
First : Clearly and distinctly an act of objective knowledge, and of
knowledge only. The sensational element is an element of feeling, attend-
ed, indeed, with the knowledge that the soul which feels animates an
extended organism ; but in the perceptional act the soul knows, and only
knows.
But if it knows, it knows some being as its object (§ 48). But what being does it
affirm ? We answer, The being which is the joint product of the material agent or substance
and the sentient organism. What we perceive when we touch and see, much more when we
smell, hear, and taste, is that which is prepared for our knowledge by the action of the ex-
citant, whatever it may be, whether objective or subjective, and the organism animated by a
sentient soul. In perception proper we do not know the excitant apart, nor do we know the
organism apart, only the result of their joint actioii. This we know as an object, with which
the mind is confronted, both as a sentient and as a percipient. As a sentient it responds to ita
presence by that subjective condition called sensation ; as a percipient, it knows the object to be.
The agency of the soul in its acts of knowing, as has already been explained, should be
carefully distinguished from its agenoy in preparing and even in presenting objects for it to
know (§47).
;> v. A 8 117. Second: This knowledge is objective — i. e.. the soul
Its object a non- ° ° J '
tm. what kind not only knows the object to be, but it knows it is not itself.
of a zion-ego. ^^ . °
What it knows is a non-e^o, a not-me, a not-self. But from
132 THE HUMAN intellect. §118
what self, or ego, does it distinguish the object ? or what kind of non-egc
does the perceiving soul distinguish ? Is it what is usually called a mate-
rial object, distinguished from the organism or the body which the soul
animates and moves ? or is it the organism itself which the soul distin-
guishes from itself, though it animates and moves it ? We answer, In
perception, comprehensively viewed, both of these objects are distin-
guished by the soul from itself, viz., the material object, which is not the
body, and the body itself, which is not the soul. The process is not com-
plete till both these objects are distinguished from one another, and from
the soul itself. But our present inquiry is, Which of these objects is
apprehended in perception proper ? which is known, or might be knownt
in connection with every sensation, or in every act of sense-perception ?
We answer, The bodily organism itself, or rather that part of the senso-
rium which is excited to action. What the soul directly perceives — i. e.,
distinguishes from itself — is its own sensitive organism, so far as it is
excited to sensation. This is that which it knows to be not itself, even
though it knows that in sensation it is intimately connected with it.
The immediate object of perception proper is the sensorium in some form
of action.
It deserves to be carefully kept in mind, that, as there are three non-egos — viz., the not-
body as distinguished from the body and soul united, the body as distinguished from the soul,
and the sensorium as distinguished from the soul as pure spirit — so there are three egos
brought into consideration — the soul as animating or connected with the sensorium, the soul as
connected with the body sensed and perceived, the living body as a whole ; and the soul as
distinguishable from both sensorium and body. In analyzing and defining sense-perception,
the attention should be carefully directed to the inquiry, Which of these egos or non-egos is
intended ?
It is not intended that, in the order of time, the infant does, in the earliest development
of the reflective consciousness, apply the pronoun I to the soul as distinguished from the body.
It is most evident that at first, and for a very long period often, this appellation is applied to
the soul and the body as a complex whole. We need not even inquire what distinctions are
made earliest in the order of time or of actual experience, but rather, what are necessary in
the simplest acts of the soul— in those states which our subtlest and ultimate analysis can dis-
tinguish, but cannot divide. What are those distinctions, the discernment of which no process
can explain or account for, but which must be ascribed to an original endowment of the soul
manifesting itself in a necessary and sovereign act ?
§ 118. Third: The object in perception proper is not only
An extended ]niown as the non-ego, but it is known as extended. Even
' in sensation proper the soul knows itself as united with the
extended sensorium ; much more when the soul, by an act of intelligence,
distinguishes this sensorium from itself as a purely psychical agent, mast
it know the object to be extended which it as it were sets over against
itself. We do not here ask what extension is, or how it is possible that
the unextended spirit can know extended matter ; nor do we ask what are
the relations of extension to space, either in the order of knowledge or
§ 119. THE PROCESS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 133
of being. These questions are reserved for future discussion. We record
only what the mind actually perceives, as attested by our experience of the
act or process.
This doctrine, stated in the terms of a more exact analysis, is this : The soul, in sense
perception, knowing the sensorium in action, may know it in the two relations which it holds
to itself, as at once a sentient and percipient. In the one relation it knows the sensorium as
united with or pervaded by itself as a sentient : it knows it sensationally — i. e., so far as it
experiences sensations. In the other relation it distinguishes it — the sensorium as being an
extended object — from itself as a percipient — i. e., it perceives a non-ego contrasted with a
percipient ego.
No one can deny, that conceding that the soul in sensation is consciously united to an extended sen-
sorium, it must immediately perceive this sensorium when aroused to action. But one may doubt whether
this is all which the mind perceives. It may he asked, whether the extra-organic cannot be perceived
immediately as truly as the intra-organic. Upon the theory here proposed, the not-body, or extra-organic
matter is the object of an acquired, but not of a direct, perception, by a process which will be explained here-
after.
The alternative theories of direct perception are two. One makes sensation a purely spiritual experi-
ence, and gives to the mind a power of directly perceiving its attendant object or its cause— known directly
or inferred somehow to be extended.
The other makes sensation to be organic, and of course to involve place and extension, and perception
to be the direct knowledge of an extra-organic object or agent, which is also extended and causal of the
intra-organic sensation.
It may be admitted, that the last theory is possibly true, but it must be shown to be necessary in order
to account for the facts, and also to be most accordant with processes known to be performed in the early
growth of perception. It is also inconsistent with the occurrence of subjective sensations. The question
is of no special importance, except as it throws light upon the development of the intellect. But see
§155. ,
§ 119. We ask, fourth: In the exercise of which of the
Perception at- " . . . . .
tends all the senses does the rnmd distinguish the non-egoistic and ex-
. tended object — in the exercise of one or two, or of each and
all? The views which we have proposed concerning sensation involve
the necessary consequence that perception proper occurs in connection
with each of the senses. If every sensation involves the apprehension of
the extended sensorium with which the soul is connected, then it follows
that it is possible to perceive this sensorium, to whatever sensation it is
excited, and that every sense gives the knowledge of an extended non-
ego. Some of these senses do this with greater indefiniteness than others,
it is true — as the sense of smell compared with the sense of touch, but all
with equal reality ; if, indeed, it is true that no sensation can in fact occur
without perception.
It needs here to be observed — as, indeed, we cannot too often repeat the remark — that
the perception which we are here considering is the perception of the not-spirit, or the direct
apprehension of the extended non-e^ro, and not at all the perception of the not-body, or the
reference of a sensation — e. g., of smell to an object as its cause, viz., a rose, or a honey-
suckle.
Those psychologists who make sensation to be a purely spiritual or subjective experience
of merely intensive quality, and make perception to be the apprehension of the cause of these
so-called feelings, either limit perception to the sensations of touch and sight, excluding it from
smell, taste, and hearing — as does Reid— or confine it to touch only, as Dugald Stewart and
Dr. Thomas Brown.
134 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §120
The philosophers of the Continent who agree with them in their views of sensation — as;
for example, those of the school of Herbavt and Beneke — agree with them in derivin°- the
knowledge of the external world from sight and touch only, either by direct perception, as
Kant, or by some process of induction or judgment founded on experience. A particular
account of their views will be given under Theories of Perception. At present we need onh
observe that all these theories rest on the gratuitous and unauthorized assumption that anv
sensation is or can be purely intensive or spiritual.
The extension But wnile each and all of the senses do alike give us an extended and exter-
Alf obiect^not nal obJect> they do not Sive ifc witn e(lual distinctness and clearness. As we
given with equal have already observed, the senses of smell and hearing are far inferior in
this respect to the senses of sight and touch ; and so far inferior, that they
seem to many not to give it at all. The muscular sensations are also more conspicuously
present in the movement and direction of certain organs than in the management and expe-
riences of others. As a consequence, the attention is almost entirely withdrawn from the
apprehension of externality and extension which pertains to these sense-perceptions, and hence
it has been denied that through these senses there is any proper perception.
The varyino- re- § ^2^* ^^s lea^s us to another topic — the varying relation
tionandf ercT- °^ *^e sensational and perceptional element in different states
tion proper. 0f sense-perception. The general law is, that in every state
these elements vary inversely — i. e., as the sensation is stronger, the per-
ception is weaker, and vice-versa. The operation of this law is illustrated
in the different sensations of the same sense as compared with one another,
and also in the different senses.
Of different sensations of the same sense we observe, that in
In different sen- . . ." _ .
sations of the some the attention is occupied more with the sensation, while
same sense. . , -i -i . ,.,. ,. , , „
m others the object which it reveals is more thought of
This is true of tastes, smells, sounds, touches, and sights. If any of these
are very agreeable or disagreeable, the subjective pain or pleasure which
they give, solicits and absorbs the soul's energy, almost or entirely to the
exclusion of all apprehension of the organism, or of any thing external.
If they are what we call indifferent or unexciting, there is opportunity for
the mind to attend to the relations of diverse quality, of place, form, outline,
which the particular sense admits of. It has passed into a proverb, that
certain sensations are absorbing, transporting, ravishing, enrapturing, and
ecstatic ; all of which terms indicate the complete occupation of the soul's
energy in subjective enjoyment, or, as the case may be, in pain and agony.
We freely remark of others, that in them we are cool, nnexcited, not car-
ried away, self-controlled ; which epithets imply the possibility of any
intellectual activity which may be required, the energy of simple percep-
tion being, of course, included.
The most obvious and striking illustrations of this difference may bo
seen in different experiences through the eye and the hand. The appre-
hensions of color are more sensuous ; those of form and outline are more
perceptional and intellectual. In gazing upon rich and gorgeous coloring,
whether it be of a splendid sunset, of brilliant autumn foliage, or of a
glowing painting, the enjoyment is more intense and the excitement is
§121. CLASSES OF SENSE-PEECEPTIOXS. 135
more akin to pure emotion. In the apprehension and comparison of form,
outline, and grouping, whether there is more or less of color, or none at
all, the perceptional element predominates, and sometimes rises into the
purely intellectual. But just in this proportion does the sensuous and pas-
sionate sink and give way.
In touch, if we take a burning or frosted implement, we are so occu-
pied with the pain, that we do not notice its form, surface, weight, and
many other peculiarities which a nicer handling would reveal, which deli-
cate handling is rendered impossible by the absorption of the soul with its
sensations. On the other hand, the delicate intellectual touch, which ap
prehends minute constituents, slightly varying surfaces, gentle outlines,
fine edges, etc., requires as an essential condition that the sensations be
not at all obtrusive. He that passes his finger over the edge of a razor in
order to judge of its fineness, must be careful that no painful sensations, as
from a cut ; or pleasant sensations, as of titillation, disturb or distract the
delicacy of his perceptive touch. In all these examples it is to be noticed,
that in sensation proper we are occupied with our subjective condition as
pleasant or painful ; while in perception proper we apprehend an extended
non-ego.
The illustration of the varied activity of the sensational and perceptional element in the
different senses will be given in the following chapter.
It should be remembered that the knowledge of an extended and external non-ego, which
is gained through any single sense, or through each and all of these senses when considered
singly, is very different from that complete apprehension of the extended and external world
which is effected by the combination of the products of the several senses into single objects —
which is matured by the processes of acquired perception, coupled with the insight of reflective
thought
CHAPTER IV.
CLASSES OE SENSE-PEKCEPTIONS.
We have only crossed the threshold of our inquiries in respect to perception. But our pre-
vious analysis has established the conclusion that sense-perception is an act of knowledge
gained in connection with sensations experienced by the soul as connected with an
extended organism. The beings known in connection with each of the senses are properly
termed percepts. These percepts are all extended non-e^os, and they are known in the
relations of extension and externality. These percepts are, however, various in their
quality and diverse in the organs and conditions by which they are gained. To under-
stand this, we must consider that
Three classes of § 121- Tne sense-perceptions may be divided into three lead-
K The'mu?: ing classes : the muscular, the organic, and the special
juiar. sense-perceptions. This division is in part directed by the
136
THE HUMAN- INTELLECT.
§121
character of the sensations themselves, and in part by their bodily con*
ditions.
The muscular sensations, or sense-perceptions, comprehend all thosu
which arise from the varying conditions of the muscles when in action and
at rest. The muscles constitute a very large portion of the substance or
structure of the body. They also pervade or are closely connected with
those parts and organs which are not muscular. They suffer various
changes, with which are connected a great variety of psychical expe-
riences. These bodily changes are apprehended directly in or through
sense-observation ; the attendant psychical phenomena are known directly
by consciousness. Among these are the passive sensations of repose, of
pleasant and painful fatigue, of distressing convulsion and cramp. To
these should be added the sensations which arise from violently cutting,
stretching, bruising, tearing, or otherwise injuring the muscular fibre.
Those which are appropriately called muscular sense-perceptions are those
which depend on the contraction and relaxation of the muscular fibres, or
the varying relative position of the muscles. As we slowly stretch or
violently jerk out the arm or the finger, as we rotate the wrist, as we tread
or kick with the foot, as we strain the whole body to lift a heavy weight
or to push over or against a resisting obstacle, or as we exert a part or
the whole of- the body in manifold conceivable motions or efforts, we ex-
perience as great a variety of muscular sensations. Scarcely one of these
is distinguished by a separate name ; and the greater part of them escape
common observation.
They are ranked lowest in the scale of the sense-perceptions, because they are
Ranked as the least definitely placed in the sensorium, because they cannot be distinctly
'owest- recalled to the memory, and because they are usually the least positive in the
pleasure and pain which they occasion. They serve most important uses,
however, as we shall see, in enabling us so to direct and regulate the bodily motions as to dis<
tinguish the individual body from the rest of the material universe, and to defend it against
serious or fatal injuries. It is contended by many that we derive our first knowledge of ex-
tended matter from the muscular sensations, as through their varying movements the infant
first explores every part of the sensorium within, and that it is from the sensorium thus explored
that it derives its measures of the material world without. Some hold that there are distinct
though vague sensations appropriate to the muscles when in repose, as truly as when in
motion ; that in these sensations throughout the whole body, slight differences are experienced,
called by some their local coloring, through which the relative position of each is understood,
and the sensations themselves become signs of place, or local signs. W. Wundt, Beitrage zur
Theorie der Sinnes-Wahrnehmung, Leipzig, 1862; Lotze, Med. Psichologie, Leipzig, 1852;
MikroJcosmus, Leipzig, 1856-1864.
A few psychologists of a recent school have questioned whether the existence of muscular sensations
is so well-established as had been supposed. They explain the direction and control of the limbs through
the muscles very largely by the varying sensations of the skin, etc. But the more recent experiments
have indicated decisively special nerves for muscular sensations and the connection of their excitement
with muscular activities, independently of the skin.
The muscular apparatus, as attended with and regulated by means of the muscular sensations, is
called the locomotive apparatus, and the exertion of it the "locomotive. e?ier#y," as the term is applied bj
Hamilton.
§123. CLASSES OP SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 131
§ 122. The organic sensations are those which depend on the
The organic. healthful or diseased condition of the vital organs ; such a;*
the stomach, the lungs, the heart, the other viscera, and the
nerves. When these organs are entirely healthy, and their functions, as
of digestion, etc., are normally and harmoniously performed, they are
attended with no very positive or distinctly noticed sensations. When
they are injured or diseased, the sensations which attend these conditions
are always unpleasant, often distressing, and invariably most readily dis-
tinguished and recognized. The healthy man does not know that he has a
stomach. The dyspeptic scarcely knows that he has any thing besides ;
he is so absorbed by the uncomfortable or painful sensations that are occa-
sioned by the diseased organ. The same is true of a man whose lungs,
heart, or nerves are diseased. This class of sensations are more readily
distinguished and recalled than the muscular, because they are more defi-
nite and positive.
The question is still in dispute, especially among physiologists, whether there
Common sensi- is not a so-called common sensibility or vital feeling — i. e., a sensation equally
billty« diffused throughout the whole bodily frame. Of this common feeling, or
feeling of life, the sensorium, as a whole, is considered as the single organ,
just as its separate parts are the organs of the special sensations. The phenomena on which
the advocates of this theory rest their views are the feelings of bodily exhilaration or depres-
sion which are experienced at times by all men, and which cannot be assigned to any part of
the frame as their seat or place. Inasmuch as these sensations in our experience seem to be
diffused through the whole body, and inasmuch as no organ can be discovered as their seat, it
is argued that this common sensibility ought to be enumerated in addition to the special sensa-
tions. But this is denied by others, because no organ can be assigned for such a function.
A view reconciling the two conflicting theories would make the diffused nervous substance
the organ or seat of this general feeling ; while its specialized or determinate parts are the
organs and seats of special sensations. The feelings of heat and cold, of shivering, etc., etc.,
might perhaps be assigned to the organism as a whole, as well as many other undefined inter-
nal feelings which can be fixed in no place or allotted to no organ, either through inner expe-
rience or sense-observation. For the psychologist, the question has little interest or impor-
tance, except, perhaps, in some relation which it may be supposed to have to the apprehen-
sion of extension and space.
The organic sensations are often blended with the muscular. The vital organs are in part
muscular, or intertwined with muscular fibre, as the heart, the stomach, etc. Their special
affections are therefore experienced in constant connection with normal or abnormal muscular
sensations, and both are assigned to the same part of the sentient organism.
8 123. The special sense-perceptions constitute the remaining
The special ° , _ A . \ kn ,i -i- .• • - ^
sense-percep- and the most important class. All these are distinguished
by this marked peculiarity, that they are experienced through
organs specially constructed for the sole function of sense-perception.
They are the so-called five senses : Smelly taste, hearing, touch, and
sight. Each of these is' clearly distinguished from every other, and
each of them is assigned its own organ or organs.
138 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §123.
The oreran of smell is the nostrils, which open into the two
Smell : its or- ,p _ _ . ' *
gan, conditions, nasal iossse, the plates 01 which are overlaid by a mucous
membrane called the pituitary membrane. The passages be*
tween these plates are somewhat tortuous, giving extent of surface for
the expanse of membrane, and the ramifications of the olfactory nerve.
This organ is in immediate contiguity with the organs of taste, with
which it acts in ready sympathy. Offensive smells occasion nausea and
disinclination to food. Savory odors, on the other hand, stimulate the
appetite.
It is generally believed that smell is excited only by the contact of the interior surface of
the organ with minute portions of matter, or gases diffused through the atmosphere. Many
substances that are highly odorous are also extremely volatile, and diminish rapidly in bulk or
weight by exposure to the atmosphere. In most, if not all such cases, the substances are such
as can be readily acted on by oxygen. On the other hand, the fragrant woods, as sandal-wood
and cedar, continue for a century to be as fragrant as at first, and their substance is for years,
to all appearance, unchanged and unchangeable.
But whatever uncertainty there may be in respect to the
Names and char- , . . ... ^
acter of the sen- occasions oi these sensations, with the sensations themselves
we are all familiar. Their varieties are almost endless. The
odors from flowers, from food, from perfumes, from woods, from earths,
from metals, and from many other objects, are too numerous to be classed
or named except in a very general way. We class them in a few general
groups or divisions, as quickening, refreshing, depressing, sickening, aro-
matic, spicy, etc., etc. We name them usually from the objects which
excite them, as the odor of the violet and the lilac, of the rose and the
tube-rose, of the peach and the apple, of cedar and camphor- wood.
The influence of odors and smells upon the nervous system, and through this upon the
activity and energy of the soul, ought not to be passed over. Fragrant odors, as of flowers,
freshly dried hay, spicy herbs, those of certain perfumes, of pungent salts and medicines,
excite the energies and refresh the spirits ; while sickening and stifling smells depress the
energies, and induce discouragement and faintness. It is not easy in all cases to separate the
influence of the sensation on the nervous system, from some specific action of the substance
smelled upon the stomach or the lungs, or from a purely physiological action upon the nerves.
It is to be remembered that the so-called sensations are in
They are sense- truth sense-perceptions — i. 6., they involve apprehended rela
perceptions. L x .
tions of externality and extension. The experience of every
odor, according to the explanation already given, must be referred to
some part of the sensorium. These sensations are, however, very unde-
fined in their place and limits, and hence it has been supposed they are
purely psychical. They cannot be distinctly recalled in the imagination or
memory. Hence, in our actual perceptions of objects, they are referred
directly to the object as seen or handled. That is, the object seen or
touched occupies the attention nnd engrosses the memory, and not the
§ 124. CLASSES OF SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 139
object smelled. Because of this vagueness in these sense-perceptions, and
because many of their material occasions or agents are known to be invisi
ble, impalpable, volatile, and diffusible, the sense itself is fancifully yet
pleasantly said to reveal the interior and ethereal essence of material things,
and hence to be especially elevated and refined in its own nature.
The language and. terms taken from this sense are transferred to super-
sensual objects, especially to the moral and the religious. The odor of
incense, ' the offence that is rank, and smells to heaven,' and the like, are
examples of such an application.
§ 124. The organs of taste are the tongue, the palate, and a
an?ev t°rgails Porti°n of the pharynx. These are also truly, though imper
fectly, organs of touch. But owing to some peculiarity of
the mucous membrane with which they are encased, they yield a variety
of special sensations called taste. The tasting organ, so far as it can be
traced, consists of minute papillas, which cover the upper surface of the
tongue and the inner cavity of the mouth.
Sapid substances, to be prepared for tasting, must be made liquid.
Those which are hard and compact, must be broken by mastication and
dissolved in the saliva. The 'harder the substance and the slower -the
process of dissolving, the longer does the taste continue.
The sensations of taste are various in kind and almost count
Variety of the }ess jn number. They are capable of being so combined as to
sensations. J • r .' .
produce singular modifications and striking contrasts. They
can thus, to some extent, be changed by custom and formed by art.
Tastes that are at first positively disagreeable, become pleasant by beius;
connected with a stimulant effect upon the nervous system — as the pun-
gent and fiery taste of strong liquors, and the nauseating taste of tobacco.
Or the sense-organ itself becomes Jess sensitive in its energy, and of
course less offended by the sensations which were at first more intense,
and therefore positively disagreeable.
Tastes, like smells, are designated by a few general epithets,
How designated, as pungent, bitter, sweet, spicy, acrid, sharp; more precisely
by the objects which occasion them, as the taste of pepper
or alum, of the peach or the plum, of different vegetables and meats. 0$
this language or vocabulary of taste we may say in general, that it is taken
originally from the sense of touch, as the obvious meaning of some of the
terms, and the less obvious roots of others, both indicate. The reason is obvi-
ous. The organ of taste is also an organ of touch. The tongue touches as
well as tastes. Certain tastes are attended with certain touches.
It ought not to escape our notice in this connection, that the sense of
the beautiful and the sublime in nature, art, and literature, and the ca-
pacity for judging rightly of its occasions or sources, is called taste in
many languages ; a singular transfer of a term from one of the grossest of
the animal capacities to one of the highest of the psychical endowments.
uo
THE HUMAX INTELLECT.
§125
It is exj;)lained by the fact that the corporeal sense of taste is susceptible
of fine discriminations and of great delicacy of culture.
The gratifications of this sense constitute a large portion of
Gratifications. our animal enjoyments. When these gratifications are regu-
lated by a regard to health, to future capacity for intellectual,
moral, and religious activity and culture, and especially when they are con
nected with social and domestic pleasures, they are by no means to be
despised or disesteemed. .On the other hand, it is to be remembered that,
when denied or when pampered, they easily degenerate into the most im-
perious cravings of our nature. Hence they are perverted so easily, and
ripen so soon into frightful and debasing appetites.
The question is never mooted, whether the sensations of taste
Objective reia- are purely subjective, or independent of all perceptions of
externality and extension. They cannot, in fact, be experi
enced apart from the exercise of touch, which, by the concession of all,
involves the apprehension of these relations. It is inconceivable that the
one should not accompany the other. We can form no imagination of a
taste which is not also a touch, bringing into active requisition the dis-
crimination of external and extended objects. ~Nor is taste, as a sensation,
conceivable except as an affection of that part of the sensorium which
pervades the surfaces of the tongue and palate.
§ 125. The sense of hearing comes next in order. Its organ
Hearing : its or- }s a complicated and convoluted bony tube or chamber, re-
sembling somewhat the interior of a snail-shell, and furnished
externally with an expanded appendage, the surface of which is corru-
gated somewhat after the manner of the bony passage within. The object
of the external ear (which with the internal constitutes the organ), is to
receive, convey, and quicken the vibratory action of the air till it reaches
the tympanum. This is a parchment-like substance, which bears, through
a chain of bones (osseleis d'oaie), upon a liquid within. The arrangement
of this entire structure, when judged by mechanical principles, is obvi-
ously adapted and designed to carry and increase vibratory action. But
the vibrating tympanum is not itself hearing. Though we seek for the
spirit of sound in all these narrow and winding chambers, we cannot find
it there ; but it flees from our search like a shadow or a mocking spirit.
It is the soul which lives in the sensorium that hears. When the tym-
panum is made to vibrate with requisite intensity and rapidity, and the
nervous apparatus is unharmed, and the soul is attent, then does it experi-
ence those peculiar sense-perceptions which we call the sensations of sound.
Every body which emits or conveys sound is susceptible of vibration. The
"bod- sonorous body with which we are most familiar, is the atmosphere, which, by
being everywhere present, is the constant and the pervading medium of
sound. Many solid bodies are, however, capable of more delicate vibra-
tiou?, and hence are more perfect conductors of sound ; or perhaps they owe their effect on
Sonorons
ies ; how charac
terized
§ 125. CLASSES OF SENSE-PEECEPTIONS. 14]
the sensorium in part to the vibrations which touch conveys through the bony structure. A
stick of timber will convey to the ear in contact with it, a whisper or the scratch of a pin for
scores or hundreds of feet. If the ear is brought in contact with a musical instrument, either
directly or through the medium of some intervening substance, the intensity of the sound ii
greatly increased.
Of these sensations there is a great variety. What deserves
J"he sensations especial notice is, that each one of this endless variety is
various. * 7 J
readily distinguished from every other, and very many of
them can be recalled and recognized. A single human voice is capable of
emitting a great variety in respect to quality, tone, and pitch. The voice
of each individual has its distinguishable characteristic in each of these
particulars. The wind sighs and whistles and groans in the forest, or
beats and rolls among the clouds like resounding waves. Almost every
substance has a sound of its own when it strikes or falls upon another,
and this sound can be varied in quantity and quality. Of these varieties
of single sensations, some are agreeable, others are offensive ; others still
are indifferent, but clearly and readily distinguishable. These last serve
the most important uses, as they convey definite and important knowledge
of the qualities of the variously sounding bodies.
Single sensations of sound are distinguished by quality, by
in what respects intensity or loudness, and by volume or quantity. The dif-
distinguishable. J j 2. j
ferences in simple quality are surprisingly numerous, and are
characterized by a variety of expressive epithets. Intensity describes the
force of the sound, irrespective of quality: as low or loud, strong or
weak. Volume characterizes the sound as completely taking possession
of that part of the sensorium which is capable of being affected, and ex-
cluding all other sounds but itself. Such epithets as broad, massive, over-
whelming, etc., etc., express this characteristic. Besides these obvious
differences, there are others less discernible to common apprehension,
which are observed and named by elocutionists and musicians. The epi-
thets by which they are characterized are technical, or terms of art, and
hence are not incorporated into common speech. The epithets which we
commonly hear are such as low and high, feeble and loud, soft and harsh,
smooth and rough — sweet, gentle, clear, piercing, light, heavy, etc., etc.
All these epithets, it will be noticed, were originally appropriated to
the other senses, especially to those of touch. Some are derived from
taste and sight. To a limited extent, sounds are named from the objects
which excite them : as the bell and glass-like, the wooden, the metallic,
etc., etc. But in general, the sensations themselves are so definitely and
sharply distinguished, that they admit of a great variety of epithets which
directly describe their subjective quality.
sounds in sue- Besides these distinguishing differences in single sensations
cession and com- ° -i • 1 i 1 -,-,.
bination. Meio- oi sound, there are others which belong to sounds when in
dy and harmo- . _ _ . " . - ' 7; ,
ny. succession and combination. Sounds of almost any quality
142
THE HUMAN INTELLECT.
126.
become pleasing when uttered in any regular succession ; especially when
a series is made to repeat and to return upon itself, and its measures or
intervals are marked by accent or beat. Examples of these are the beat-
ing of a drum to a tune, the rhythmical measure of well-sounding prose,
or the more regular and marked repetitions of poetic verse. If the sounds
possess musical quality, these repetitions constitute melody, giving exqui-
site sensuous pleasure to the ear, and, by expression, speaking so movingly
by the soul. To this is superadded the more artificial and refined attribute
of harmony, when sounds of different musical quality are given in concord,
greatly enlarging, enriching, and elevating both the sensuous and expres-
sional resources of music. Melody and harmony combined, when added
to what culture has done for the voice, and art for the improvement of
instruments, are the grounds of the elevated enjoyment that is ministered
by the varied works of musical genius.
§ 126. The sensations of sound are invested with even a
SiiCan^g?.of kigner interest, and applied to a still more elevated use.
Without- the sense of hearing, vocal utterances do not be-
come sounds ; and without vocal utterances as heard, there could be no
language. As addressed to and affecting the senses, sounds are pleasing
or displeasing, musical and melodious or the contrary, harmonious or
discordant ; as significant of human thought and feeling, they are endowed
with a wondrous and almost a sublime power. When we listen to a
foreign language of which we are ignorant, or when we cannot catch the
sense of our mother-tongue, it is to our ears a jargon or a chatter, or, at
best, but a pleasing flow of insignificant sense-perceptions. But as soon
as these sounds are understood, they are transformed, and, as it were,
transfigured into a new nature by subserving a nobler use. They become
the audible expressions of thought, in its most subtle distinctions and its
most complicated connections. By this means — literally, this intervening
medium — thoughts are communicated from one mind to another ; they are
forever fixed, and become the permanent possession of the race.
Not only are sounds significant of thought ; they also ex-
fc3£Tsive °f Press feeling. Even simple and inarticulate tones do this,
especially if the tones are musical, or partake of musical
quality. The whine of the beggar, the command of the master, and the
threat of the enraged, are expressive as tones, even when no words are
uttered, or when the uttered words fail to be understood. A plaintive or
a triumphant strain of music is easily interpreted, though no thoughts are
uttered in words. But when thought and feeling are both conveyed, the
one by clear and well-chosen words, and the other by an expressive elocu-
tion, and the soul is enraptured and elevated by eloquent speech, then the
resources of sound and the importance of hearing begin to be appreciated.
When, again, poetry and music lend both grace and expression to thought
and feeling, we have a still higher example of the dignity of a single
§ 127. CLASSES OF SEXSE-PERCEPTIONS. 143
sense, and the wondrous uses to which it may be applied in the service ot
the soul.
In view of these relations, the sense of hearing has been
The dignity of ranked higher than any other. It effects a connection be-
heaxmg, & J
tween one soul and another ; it enables the spirit to breathe
out feelings which even articulate speech cannot utter. Its dignity and
worth are especially illustrated in the case of the blind. It is to them the
subtle conveyancer of those emotions, which to others the eye, the counte-
nance, the attitude, and the gesture all combine in expressing. To the
blind the voice softens in tenderness, thrills with love, is harsh from anger,
and lingers in entreaty. To him every tone breathes an expressed emo-
tion. An intelligent and educated blind man once remarked with great
intensity of meaning- "The human voice is to me the'divinest endow-
ment of man."
We need, perhaps, to repeat the observation, that what the soul experiences
Sounds ; sense- in hearing is truly a sense-perception — i.' e., as already explained, it is an
perceptions. affection of the soul as connected with the extended organism with which it
connects and from which it distinguishes itself. It is common to conceive
of sound as a purely spiritual affection, involving no relations to extended matter. It is con-
fidently asserted that, were the soul capable of hearing alone, it would experience the suc-
cessive sensations in listening to a musical air as only a series of delightful emotions, as phe-
nomena purely and simply subjective. This, for the reasons already given, we think incor-
rect. These sensations, like all the others, are assigned to some place in the sensorium, and
if not bounded by definite limits, involve nevertheless the apprehension of an extended
surface. These apprehensions are so indefinite, indeed, that ordinarily we do not regard
them ; because we do not rest in the sensations, but use them as signs of the sense-percep-
tions, or the relations which they involve. Instead of the sound, we think of the sonorous
body ; or, if the sensational element is agreeable, we think of its subjective quality ; or, if it
excites or suggests a series of warm or elevated emotions, we are absorbed in these. In other
words, we are usually too busy ia the interpretation of sounds to think simply of them as sound-
perceptions. We leave the sound itself unnoticed, except so far as its relations signify some-
thing, and we pass at once to that which it signifies; in the case of tangible or visible qualities,
to this class of properties ; when it conveys thought or feeling, to the intellectual or emotional
import which we interpret. The range of this significance is so vast, varied, and interesting,
that it is not surprising that it occupies our chief attention, and leads us to overlook the rela-
tions of the sound to place or extent in the sensorium, and even causes that we fail to advert
to the fact that it has such relations. These are not obtrusive to the attention at any time ; at
best, they are but vaguely apprehended ; but that they are perceived, is manifest from the con-
siderations already noticed, and also from this, that an intense or extraordinary sound always
distinctly affects the ear — i. e., a portion of the sensorium which is defined to our apprehension,
though vaguely.
§ 127. The sense of touch comes next in order. The organ
touch seoSan°f °^ ^is sense is the skin. The skin is the external covering
of the body, and the lining of certain internal cavities, as the
mouth. The sensations depend on the action of certain minute papillae,
which are placed beneath the external cuticle, and each one of which
144 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §127
encloses the termination of a nerve, or of a nervous branch or branchlet.
Different portions of the skin are more or less sensitive, and the percep-
tions which are gained through them are more or less delicate, according
to the number of the nerves and the fineness and compactness of the
nervous terminations. The thickness or thinness of the external covering
or cuticle is also an important circumstance. In general, we may say that
those portions of the body in which the perceptions are least acute and
discriminating are the most scantily supplied with nerves, and their
branches extend over a very large surface — in some cases over several
square inches. In the more sensitive parts of the body, on the other
hand, there are very many distinct nerves and nervous branches and
branchlets.
The distinguished physiologist, E. H. Weber, was the first who instituted a
Weber's experi- series of careful experiments, in order definitely to ascertain the different
me degrees of sensitiveness in touch which are natural to different parts of the
body. He employed for this purpose the points of a pair of dividers, which
were separated more or less widely and applied to different parts of the body. He ascertained
that in some parts of the body these points could not be perceived as separate, unless the
dividers were opened as widely as three inches ; while in others the extremities needed to be
only the thirty-sixth of an inch apart in order to be distinctly perceived as two. Similai
experiments have been made by other physiologists. The tip of the tongue, the lips, and the
ends of the fingers, are the most sensitive and discriminating organs of touch. In some ani-
mals, the lips — as of the walrus and the seal — are exceedingly sensitive. The antennae of
many insects are supposed to be endowed with extraordinary susceptibility of touch. The
human hand, inasmuch as it is lined with a sensitive covering, and — through its connection
with the arm and shoulder, and its division into thumb and fingers — is provided with an appa-
ratus especially adapted to regulate and direct the application of touch and pressure, is preemi-
nently the organ of touch. E. H. Weber, De Pulsu, etc., 1834; also art. Gefuhlssinn,
Wagner, H.- W.- B. der Physiologic See also Sir Charles Bell, The Human Hand; its
Mechanism, etc.
It is an essential condition of a sense-perception of touch,
^on S^Juch di" ^at tne object should be actually applied to or brought in
contact with the organ — i. e., with some portion of the sur-
face of the body. According as this application is made with greater or
less force, the sensation varies in intensity and the perception in distinct-
ness, and sometimes the quality of the sensation changes in its nature. A
light pressure or gentle touch, in the ordinary and normal conditions of
the organ, is usually favorable to distinct or delicate perception. If the
pressure is increased, the sensation may become excessive and unpleasant,
and even positively painful ; while the perception is less acute, owing,
probably, to the compression of the nerve or nerves. In some cases, the
very slightest contact that is possible, with a careful avoidance of press-
ure, as in the touch of a feather, is attended with the greatest sensibility
and the acutest discernment. But the force of the application of the
organ to the object of touch depends usually on muscular effort. It
§ 128. CLASSES OF SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 145
scarcely ever can happen that muscular effort is not called into requisition,
either in positive and direct pressure, as of the hand or finger, or in with-
holding from pressure beyond a certain degree, or in resisting pressure
when it is imposed from without. All these efforts are directed, meas-
ured, and controlled by means of varying muscular sensations which
attend each form and degree of exertion.
8 128. Hence it is that the muscular sensations always attend
Variety of sen- ■ -.''■„ , ' ' ' V -i " ''' ' <-i •' i
sations involved and often seem to be blended with the perceptions that are
in touch. . i -r i •
appropriate to touch. In the acquired or complex percep-
tions of touch, these muscular sensations play a conspicuous part, as we
shall see in the appropriate place (§ 145). In common language, and in
the earlier classifications of philosophers, both psychologists and physiolo-
gists, the muscular sensations were assigned to the sense of touch. So
are and were the sensations of temperature, many of which arise from
contact with a body warmer or colder than the touching organ, and hence
in experience and imagination are referred to touch proper. Inasmuch as
these various classes of sensations are all concerned in many of the per-
ceptions of touch, it is necessary to consider each apart.
The first class are the sensations of gentle touch, or of touch
Sensations prop- . . ... , - "
er of gentle proper. lnese sensations are occasioned more frequently by
feeling an extended surface, but they may, and often do,
arise from gentle contact with the extremity of a pointed body. Sensa-
tions thus arising are neither pleasurable nor painful. One is scarcely
distinguishable from another by its agreeable or disagreeable quality.
Hence none of them can be readily reproduced in the memory. Pressure
against a surface, or motion over it, both involving muscular sensations,
seems to be required in order to secure from different substances sensations
sufficiently positive and energetic to enable us to distinguish the sub-
stances themselves, and to recall to memory the sensations which they
occasion.
The second class are the acute and often painful sensations
Sensations in- n .. , ., . _
voiving violence that come from any substance that does violence to the
organ, as the prick of a pointed substance, the cut of a
knife, the stroke of a whip, the bruise from a stick. These sensations are
all distinct and energetic, and occasion a shock to the nervous system
which is more or less violent. They are more definitely localized than the
sensations of touch proper, and more distinctly revived and recalled. The
sensitiveness of the skin to affections of this kind is not proportioned to-
the sensitiveness of its touch. It was proved by the experiments of
Weber, and others, that those parts of the surface of the body which are
furnished with the fewest and the most sparsely ramified nerves and
branches of nerves, and are the most incapable of sensations of proper
touch, are none the less susceptible to exquisite sensations of this sort.
These sensations are not confined to the surface of the body, its interior
10
146 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §128.
portions being capable of exquisite suffering from pricking, cutting, and
laceration. Hence this class of sensations seem, from their occasion or
origin, to be more nearly allied to those sensations which we have called
organic, and which are most conspicuous when an organ is injured or dis
eased.
The third class are sensations of temperature. These arise
temS emure °f usnauy from contact of the body with some material object
of different temperature from itself. They are also experi-
enced by what is called radiation, from an object not in contact with the
body. In such cases the body may be said to be in direct communication
or contact with the heated atmosphere, or the vibrating medium of heat.
The sensations of temperature are, in many particulars, like the painful
sensations which we have just described. They are like them in that they
are not confined to the surface. In case of scalding from water or steam,
or of a severe burn from fire, or of violent internal inflammation, or of
febrile excitement, their causes are purely internal, and the affections are
organic. The sensitiveness of the body to heat and cold is not propor-
tioned to its susceptibility to touch.
The fourth class are the sensations of pressure or weight.
Sensations of • • . . -iti
pressure and These, so far as they are definite and peculiar, are the slightly
benumbed and painful feeling which a weight occasions
when laid upon the hand or arm, when there is no muscular effort to sus-
tain or resist the pressure. In such a case slight additions may be made
to the bulk of the body imposed, without being perceived. If the same
experiments are made upon the parts of the body which are more mobile
■ — as upon the lips, when resistance and muscular effort is provoked and
made necessary — minute differences will be perceived and appreciated.
Accurate experiments of this kind were made by Weber, eliciting sur-
prising results. Hence the so-called sensations of weight are very largely
complex in their nature, being made up of muscular sensations.
The fifth class are the muscular sensations, which have been
The muscular alreadv sufficiently characterized. Not only do they enter
sensations. J J . . t.
very largely into the sensations of weight, but into all those
sensations which require motion upon and application to the surface of the
body which is touched. The sensations of the rough and smooth, of the
adhesive and slippery, of the elastic and non-elastic, are of this character.
According to the nicety with which these sensations are distinguished, is
the delicacy of perception by touch. Success in any manual art depends
upon this sort of nicety. Skill in sewing, engraving, and drawing, in
the handling of tools, in driving, rowing, and playing on musical instru-
ments, depends on the natural capacity for and the nice attention to these
muscular sensations. They are equally, if not more important, to our
judgments of form, size, distance, and the various relations of extension,
as we shall see in considering the acquired perceptions.
§ 129. CLASSES OF SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 147
One feature all these sensations share in common. Though sufficiently alikt
Sensations local- to be classed together as tactual, muscular, etc., etc., yet they differ in quality
ized# according to the part of the body which is their seat. The tactual sensations
on the palm are different from those on the back of the hand ; those on the
Hand are different from those on the different parts of the arm, and so on through every por-
tion of the surface of the body. The same is true of the different muscular sensations. The
muscular sensations which attend the opening and closing of one finger, differ from those
which are experienced in opening and shutting the hand. Those which we feel in managing
the arm differ from those which are used in controlling the position of the head. The same
is true of the other classes of sensations which are appropriate to the interior of the trunk or
the vital organs. This fact is of great importance in the explanation of the acquired percep-
tions.
§ 129. From considering the sensational element in touch,
PoreCreoPfttouciiS we pass to the perceptional. By perception proper, in touch,
as in the other senses, we apprehend objects as extended and
external. To touch has been assigned especial superiority in these dis-
criminations. Many limit them exclusively to touch, making it the only
agent through which we perceive, and assigning to all the other senses the
sensational function only. Others, as we have already said, limit percep-
tion proper to touch and sight. Our own view has been already defined.
We hold that through every sensation, and of course in connection with
every one of the senses, we perceive — i. e., we apprehend objects as ex
tended and external. The perceptions of touch, however, differ from those
of the other senses not only in being more definite and minute, in conse-
quence of the greater energy of the sensations, but also (with the exception
of sight) in their immeasurably superior variety. For this reason they de-
serve special consideration.
Let it be observed as a preliminary, that what we perceive by touch, or any
Extension and , . . ,. . , ,
externality per- other sense, is not extension or externality in the abstract or the general, but
concrete.111 ^ on^ extended and external objects ; or, more exactly, we perceive objects as
external and extended. We do not, by touch alone, gain mathematical ex-
tension, nor mathematical qualities, nor the relations of pure mathematical quantities to one
another, nor to the pure or abstract space or time which we conceive to exist. We simply
perceive extended and external somethings. We afterward know them as having surfaces, as
extended in different directions, as having different forms, sizes, and dimensions. Every
object which we perceive has a definite extension of its own, and hence can be compared with
another object in position, dimensions, form, etc., etc. But first of all, it is and must be
known as an extended object, distinguished from the perceiving agent, and from every other
extended object.
It is contended by many that the reason why we perceive extension by toucb.
Perception of ex- . , , . , . .,.,., , . '
tension by touch, either exclusively, or in common with sight, is, that the organism itself is
?y\xteenPsionbin extended. We find, they say, that in those parts of the skin in which our
the organism. perception of extension is the most definite and acute, the nerves and the
nervous endings are most frequent ; while in those portions in which its dimensions are most
vaguely perceived, these are more sparse. Hence it is concluded that two nervous termina-
tions at least are required for the apprehension of superficial extension. Moreover, it is urged
that, as the remaining organs, except those of sight and touch, are each furnished with a single
nerve only, or, at most, with a single pair, that is the sufficient reason why, by means of these,
148 THE HUMAN INTELLECT!. § 129:
we have no perception of extension. In touch and sight, it is said, the soul being affected by
sensations through nerves placed side by side in space, must necessarily perceive objects as
extended. Some contend that this is done as the soul is affected directly by the outer termini
or extremes of the sentient nerves. Others hold that the inner extremities of the nerves, as
they terminate in the brain or other nerve-centres, present spatial relations, similar to those of
their outer extremities, and so enable the soul to perceive the extended objects of touch. The
same explanation is given of the perception of extension by sight. This view is held chiefly by
physiologists, and, among them, by the distinguished John Muller, with whom many others
agree.
Of this theory we observe, that it overlooks entirely the difference between
Physiological the physical conditions of perception and the act of perception. It may be,
iC>sycnic°alSactfIld and Probably is, a necessary condition to perceiving extension by touch and
sight, that many nerves should terminate side by side in the organs, and be
spread over an extended expanse. But it is one thing for the nervous apparatus to occupy an
extended organ, and entirely another for the mind, by means, or on occasion of the sensations
which follow the excitement of these nerves, to perceive an extended object. The impinging
solid and the impinging light are both extended ; the impinged skin or retina present a sur-
face that is made up of nervous endings that are placed side by side. From the application
of the one physical extension to the other — of the object to the organ — ensue the sensations
of touch or sight, but the soul in its sensations does not feel that one or more nervous termina-
tions are affected. For it is not aware that it has nerves at all, or that one or more are called
into action. Nor is it aware that separate parts of its skin, or other organs, are thus affected.
It knows neither nerves nor extended organs as organs. It takes note neither of the outer
nor the inner terminations of its nerves, at the time when, or as the means by which, it appre-
hends an extended surface. The spatial arrangement of the nervous endings may be a physio-
logical fact, but this fact cannot be applied to the explanation of the apprehension of exten-
sion as a psychical process. Moreover, this theory, and many others adopted by physiologists,
involve the absurdity of making the soul first to know extension physiologically, in order to
know extension psychologically — i. e., they require it to know the nerves as side by side, in order
to know that very property which is essential to knowing an object as side by side with another.
Besides, if two nervous endings at the least are essential to conditionate the apprehension
of an extended surface, then the affection of one alone is not sufficient. This is conceded by
all the physiologists who take the view which we are now considering. But if the affection
of a single nerve does not give extension, how can the affection of two or twenty ? The
placing of twenty lines side by side gives no breadth. Some contend that three at least must
be called into action, of which the two outermost must be affected, and the one between be left
inactive ; the apprehension of a nerve in a state of inaction being supposed somehow to occa-
sion perceived extension. But the sensation of the intermediate nerve in inaction is still a
sensation, and the problem would be, how, by the combined sensations from three nerves side
by side, neither of which gives extension by itself, to account for the perception of an ex-
tended surface.
Another theory of the physiologists is, "that the perception of extension by
Not by local touch and sight depends not on the knowledge of the spatial relations of the
signs. nerves, but on the diverse quality of the several sensations, both tactual and
muscular, corresponding to the part of the body which is affected. To every
part of the body, on the surface and through the interior, there is appropriated a certain qual-
ity and degree of sensation. When any number of these sensations are experienced, it is
urged, these affections, experienced in their relation to one another, are the means by which
extension is perceived. Single sensations, as such, experienced apart, give no relation of
space ; but several, experienced together, give extension. To this explanation the objection
is fatal, which we have already adduced, that any number of sensations cannot, by the circum-
stance that they are experienced together, evolve any relation of extension, unless they giv«
§ 130. CLASSES OP SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 149
Extension when experienced alone. No addition of zeros will make a unit ; no multiplication
uf breadthless lines will give breadth ; no experience of a number of extensionless sensation?
will suggest extension.
Lotze, the most eminent of the physiologists who adopt the theory of a diversity of sensa
tions as local signs, himself asserts this, and expressly disclaims holding that the experience
of diverse sensations originates the perception of extension or of space. He contends thai
space must be assumed as given, but that the office of the diverse sensations is to make defi-
nite and familiar the relations of the parts of the body to space. In other words, these
diverse local sensations are the conditions of distinguishing relative position or place. Cf.
I. H. Fichte, Psychologies § 155-163.
One or two other theories, similar in their principle, and therefore refuted on similar
grounds, might here be noticed, but we ,reserve the consideration of them for a more appro-
priate place. These, and those which we have discussed, are alike exposed to one fatal objec-
tion—that, even on their own showing, they can only explain the perception of superficial
extension. Extension in the third dimension, they can in no way provide or account for.
From all these theories, which fail to account for the acknowledged facts in our conscious
experience, we return with greater confidence to our original statement, that sensations through
every organ give perception, and in perception is involved the cognition of an extended
object.
In the exercise of touch, the tactual and muscular and other
The sensoriuni . . . . y
known as ex- more subjective sensations, are called into action. But these
tended. ._ ' "' 'J , - ' ". _ ..
all pertain, and are known to pertain, to the soul as connect-
ed with an extended sensorium. This sensorium is known to the soul not
as a collection of nerve-endings or nerve-expansions, not as having a
denned inner content and limiting surface, but as found in various con-
ditions of activity, involving the soul's own active sympathy of either
suffering or enjoyment. All these sensations involve some relation of ex-
tension and place, very vague at first, but sure to be more positive and
definite as soon as the soul fixes its attention upon each. These relations
comprehend all the dimensions of space, as truly as any. The soul, as it
were, occupies and pervades the sensorium as extended in all directions.
Its attention is first fixed upon certain of the sensations that are most posi-
tive or energetic, especially upon the pleasurable and painful, the muscular
and tactual. Then the local diversities and likenesses are noticed, and the
relations of place within and upon the surface of the body become fixed.
Differences in direction, form, size, etc., are fixed, by processes which we
shall explain, under the acquired perceptions. But the condition of any
of these processes is the assumption that in the original perceptions of
touch, extension, or the extended sensorium, and this as extended in three
dimensions, is directly perceived. But tangible objects are not only
known as extended ; they are also known as external. This brings us to
Dur next division :
§ 130. Externality, or outness, is involved in the extension
The perception ° . . V , . n i -n i.
of externality by which is known by the sensations oi touch. Externality
differs from simple diversity, or difference. Diversity may
pertain to objects that are purely spiritual, as a series of mental activities.
150 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §130
But externality as apprehended in perception, as has already
SterStings°f ^een explamedj is tne diversity or distinguishability of an
extended object from the spirit as non-spatial, and also the
separateness or separableness of the material universe, or of material
objects usually so-called, from the animated body. Both these relations
are apprehended in sense-perception, and preeminently by the sense of
touch. It is not only important, but essential, that these two meanings
oe not confounded.
It is also important to observe, that the externality which we perceive,
is, like extension, not abstract, but concrete externality ; or, in more
familiar terms, an external object, or an object as external.
"We will consider the two senses of externality in their order.
the 35rt agnifu First, we inquire, How does the soul, in touch, perceive its
own body to be external to itself? We answer, as in our
previous discussion, — precisely as it does through the other senses, by an
immediate and inexplicable act of its own. It perceives directly its own
body as a non-self or a non-e^o — originally its own sensorium excited to sen-
sation. We raise this question a second time in connection with the sense
of touch, because it has been often urged that its sensations are peculiar in
revealing outness, or externality.
Some — as Reid — contend that the simple sense of resistance or hardness, or that affection
of the sensorium which every solid body occasions, directly suggests outness.
Dr. Thomas Brown teaches that all proper tactual sensations, like other sensa-
tions proper, are purely subjective and spiritual, without the suggestions
rown s eory. ^ externality and extension, and that it is only through the muscular sensa-
tions that the knowledge of the non-ego is gained. ' We open the hand or the
arm, as we have done in a score of previous instances, without striking against an object. All
that we experience is a succession of purely subjective affections — affections simply and solely
spiritual. But we strike against a wall, or other resisting medium, and we ask, "What has
caused this new sensation ? We answer, it is not myself, for I have previously had, or rather
produced, only a succession of spiritual states, in a series of muscular sensations. But here is
a change. I have a sensation uncaused by myself, but caused by a being different from
myself. There exists, therefore, a being not myself, and so I reach the non-ego, or externality."
To this solution or explanation there is this fatal objection, that to the suggestion of the non-
ego there is required simply the experience of a single new sensation out of the accustomed
order. To be sure, the sensation must be very distinct and positive ; as when, for example,
the hand is smartly struck against a rock. Bnt it is not the character of the sensation as more
or less positive which gives the inference ; it is because it occurs out of the accustomed order ;
it is because, in place of the usual order of sensations, you have one that is new, that an exter.
nal cause is required. This would require that you assume that the arm or hand should in
every previous instance have been opened or stretched in precisely the same way. For, if
there had been any diversity in the order — if, by any twist or jerk, a positively new sensation
had been introduced without an external object — then an external cause would have been
required, and a non-^o would have been accepted, when, in Brown's sense, there was none.
But allowing that the order of sensations has been previously the same, and that, by the
resisting object, the order is for the first time changed, in what does the change consist ?
Simply in the introduction of a new subjective experience. The resisting object gives only 2
§131. CLASSES OF SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 15 j
novel sensation, which is still subjective. However unusual it may be, it is only subjective
and psychical, and, according to Brown's theory, can give no relation of extension, and there-
fore no relation of externality. Though, in the way supposed, a cause other than the agent
might be reached, it would be purely spiritual, and not necessarily spatial.
All these, and every other theory of the sort, have one common weakness — that they
require us, by some arrangement or series or combination of sensations purely subjective, to
account for or develop an objective, i. <?., an external non-ego. But it is obvious that it is not the
greater or less positiveness of a subjective sensation, nor any change in the order of such sen-
sations, which will elicit a non-ego, if it be not immediately discerned by the mind itself. The
consideration of these theories brings us back with greater confidence to our original propo-
sition, that the sense of touch is like the other senses, in that it gives the non-ego directly
perceived, viz., the sensorium aroused to its appropriate sensations.
lit in -^U^ wna^ it may be objected, when I grasp a pebble, or an
th« second signi- ivory ball, or a stick, is all that I perceive as external to
myself simply the sensorium excited by the object grasped ?
Is this the non-ego which I perceive, and this only ? We reply, that this is
the only non-ego, which we perceive by direct and original perception. But
do we not perceive also the object which produces these sensations ? Do
we not directly perceive the surface of the pebble, the ball, or the stick, as
diverse from the sensorium, and the body which it pervades ? Not by
immediate perception. If we did, it would involve the inference that we
perceive a non-ego, viz., the surface of the pebble as touched, and pro-
ducing a sensation, viz., the felt sensation, which is also a non-e^o. That
is, we should have immediate perception of two non-egos — the sensorium
excited, and the object exciting it to a sensation. This is possible, but it
must be shown to be necessary. We prefer the theory that externality in
the second sense — i. e., the distinction of the not-body from the body — is
discerned not by an original, but by an acquired perception, as will be
explained in its place (§155). It is the result, not of a single act, but of
a series of processes. It is in connection with the sense of touch, as we
shall show, that these processes are performed with especial advantage,
and therefore it is to the sense of touch that the knowledge of outness
in the second sense is preeminently to be referred. For these processes
the sensations of touch are especially adapted, because of the energetic
and easily distinguishable character of those tactual sensations of which
the whole bodily surface is capable, and because of the variable pressure
and mobility which the muscles conditionate.
8 131. The sense of touch is the most positive of all the
Sense of touch, u . _ t x
the leading senses in the character ot its sensations. In many respects
it is worthy to be called the leading sense. The sensations
which it gives, and those which are called into action in connection with
rt, are felt on every part of the surface, and throughout the interior of the
body and all its members. The sensations themselves are the most ener
getic of- any that we experience.
Moreover, the organ of every other sense is also an organ of touch,
152 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §132
and, as such, is more or less sensitive. We touch the food which we taste,
and unless we touch it, we cannot taste it. Though the eye does not lit*
erally touch the undulating light — i. e., in response to the touch of light, it
gives no tactual sensations — yet, when the surface of the eye is pressed by
the finger, or strikes against any solid object, it feels, and is pained. It is
also acutely sensitive at times as a touching organ. The inner surfaces of
the nostrils and of the ear, like the outer surface of the body, are suscep-
tible of tactual sensations. All of these organs are more or less com-
pletely provided with a muscular apparatus, by which they are moved,
directed, accommodated, and made more attent for and subservient to
their appropriate sensations. They are all capable of painful sensations
from injury and inflammation, and from excessive or abnormal activity.
The various sensations appropriate to the sense of touch are experienced
in connection with those sensations which are the appropriate function to
each separate organ. Hence the tactual and muscular sensations are very
intimately connected with seeing, hearing, smelling, and tasting. In view
of these considerations, it was said long ago, by Democritus, that c all the
senses were modifications of the sense of touch.' The importance of this
truth will be made apparent when we consider the prominence of touch
in the formation of the acquired perceptions.
In view of these facts, touch has been called, by some physiologists,
general sensibility, or the power of general sensibility ; and the four re-
maining senses have been called the special senses. Cf. Dalton, Human
Physiology, Phil., 1866.
It ought not to surprise us to learn, that the sense of
Furnishes intei- touch furnishes most of the terms for the intellectual acts
lectual terms.
and states. Sight itself is indebted to touch for many of its
terms. We take or apprehend a meaning ; we hold an opinion ; we com-
prehend or grasp a train of thought or a course of reasoning ; we accept
a proposition. Especially does touch furnish the words for those acts of
the intellect in which the feelings and the will have a share. The reason
is obvious. We touch and handle objects in order familiarly to under-
stand their properties and laws. What objects we touch, and how we
touch or handle them, is determined very largely by our feelings, whether
of curiosity or indifference, of love or dislike, of caution or boldness. All
these feelings are expressed through acts appropriate to the sense of
touch, or by the modes of using its principal organs. Hence the spiritual
acts or states generally are expressed by terms and phrases primarily
applied to this class of bodily activities.
§ 132. The sense of sight is the last which we are to con-
sight; its organ, sider. The organ of vision is the eye. The eye is a struc-
ture made like an optical instrument, and adapted to the re-
fraction of light by a combination of lenses, and to the production, by this
means, of a distinct miniature image of the object seen upon the retina,
§ 132. CLASSES OF SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 15?
or the dark network of nerves which lines the inner chamber. This
image can be seen in the eye of some animals if separated carefully from
its socket, and divested of the sclerotic coating behind. The surface of
the eye is small compared with that of the organ of touch, but it is sus-
ceptible of the readiest and most rapid motions, and of adjustments of
position and direction, with little muscular effort, with just as little mus-
cular sensation as is required for the discrimination and regulation of its
motions. This susceptibility of easy and swift motion and adjustment is
one of its most remarkable physical features, and is the condition of its
marvellous superiority.
The conditions of distinct vision are a proper quantity of
The conditions \\ght and the formation of a well-refracted ima^e upon the
ol vision. o 7 ... ox
retina. If the light is deficient, or excessive in quantity or
intensity, there can be no distinct vision. There is a particular distance
for every eye, at which the most perfect vision of a near object can be
attained. This distance varies considerably, from that of the so-called
near-sighted, to that of the far-sighted. This variety of the distances
required is found to be occasioned by a difference in the degree of the
convexity in the lenses of the eyes of different persons, requiring a differ-
ent focal distance for the object. The inability to see distinctly at a cer-
tain distance may be overcome, or in part remedied, by a constrained
adjustment of the retina and one or both lenses, through certain muscles
provided for the purpose. The muscular sensations experienced by the
adjustment of the eye in the effort to discern objects not seen distinctly,
are important media in forming and applying the acquired perceptions. In
order that the vision by both eyes may be single — and it must be single to
be distinct — the two axes must be steadily fixed upon the same point ; and
in order that they may be fixed, they must be inclined together. The
muscular sensations, varying with the different adjustments of the two
axes are important in the acquired perceptions or judgments of vision.
These conditions are completed or furnished when a distinct picture on the
Function of the retina is formed. This leads us to consider the function of the image on the
retina °n th° re^nai or i*s relations to the act and the objects of vision. Concerning this
there is confusion and error of opinion. The mind does not see the image on
the retina. If it did, it must do this by means of another image, and so on ad infinitum.
Nor does it perceive the image by a psychical act, knowing it to be an image on the retina.
It does not know that there is a retina, till the anatomist or the optician brings the fact to
notice. Nor does it know of nerves, or nervous endings, or nervous expansions, in the act of
seeing. Nor can it be aware, in any other way, of the image as an image. That its formation
is essential to the act of vision, we know by physiological researches, but not in psychical
experience. Physiologically, we know that the one is necessary to the other. Psychically, we
are not only not conscious of using it as a known means of the act of seeing, but we are con-
scious that we do not employ it as such an aid or means. If this were kept in mind, serious
difficulties in the explanation of the process of vision would be set aside. For example, it has
been often asked, How can we see objects upright, of which the images on the retina are
154 the huma:n- intellect. § 133
inverted ? How can we see objects as single, whose images are double ? The answer to ques-
tions like these, and the difficulties which they involve, is, that the mind does not use the
image as a medium in the psychical act. It starts with it as given, setting off from the image
as the last member or link in the series of physical conditions.
The act of vision as a sense-perception includes two elements, the
sensational and the perceptional.
The sensations proper from light and colors are scarcely
er°faS°s?onr°P" mai*ked m our conscious experience as pleasurable or painful.
Hence they are feebly obtrusive. They rarely if ever attract
the attention except when painful through disease in the eye or an
excess of energy which induces abnormal action. In such cases we may
say that it is not the proper sensations of sight which give pain, but the
organic sensations arising from irregular physical stimuli. Some colors,
however, seem to give a positive sensuous pleasure, as rich violet or pur-
ple ; and a series of such colors, finely blended, occasions extreme satisfac-
tion. But even in these cases the pleasure, so far as it is sensuous, seems
to follow an exciting or soothing stimulus to the nervous system, rather
than to arise from a positive and distinctively grateful sensation. So far
as it is aesthetic, it is not sensuous at all. The pleasure from form and out-
line, as distinguished from color, is still less sensuous. These facts explain
why it is that the sensations of vision are less definitely located in the sen-
sorium, and why, when the eye is known as their agent, the percepts are so
readily detached from the eye and projected before it. The equally unob-
trusive and feebly positive character of the muscular sensations which are
experienced in using the eye contributes to the same result.
8 133. What is the object perceived? The objects of vision
Perception prop- " . ..,.,. -r^,
er in vision. The are illuminated, shaded, and colored visioilia. When we
call them objects, we do not intend that they are objects in
the sense that they can be felt or handled, but that they are illuminated
and colored percepts, set over against the soul by itself, and distinguished
from itself by its own act of perception. The spectrum, as of a color
refracted by the prism, or of a flame collected on a screen, is a real object
of vision. So is the image that seems to lurk behind a mirror, or to lie in
the depth of a glassy pool. The colored network that is projected before
the closed vision is an object. In short, whatever the eye beholds is a
visible percept. Moreover, what the eye perceives, and as the eye per-
ceives it, is the sole object that is visible. This percept is always colored.
When we say it is colored, we include, under color, light and shade.
Darkness, even, is discerned by the eye only as the intensest and gravest
of positive colors. When light and color are declared to be the appro-
priate objects of vision, no opinion is advanced respecting the nature of
light or color as a physical agent or material. It is not the physical light
or color, but the physiological resultant of this as it acts upon or with the
sensorium, which we see ; and this is all which we see.
§ 133. CLASSES OF SENSE-PEECEPTIONS. 153
This object is always extended. The colored percept is aa
2naedways ex" extended object, and it cannot be apprehended as colored
without being perceived as extended also. Brown (Lectures,
28, 9) insists most earnestly that the sensation of color is not originally
. experienced in connection with extension, and that we connect the two
only because and by means of an oft-experienced and inveterate association.
Dugald Stewart {Elements) sanctions this view. James Mill, and all the
associationalists, must of necessity adopt this solution. The following
suppositions refute the doctrine : If two or more bands of color were
present to the infant which had never exercised touch, it must see them
both at once ; and, if it sees them both, it must see them as expanded or
extended ; otherwise it could not see them at all, nor the line of transition
or separation between them. Or if a disc of red were presented in the
midst of, and surrounded by, a field of yellow or blue, or if a bright band
of red were painted so as to return as a circle upon itself, on a field of
black, the band could not be traced by the eye without requiring that the
eye should contemplate as an extended percept the included surface or disc
of red.
This view of Brown, Stewart, and others, in respect to color, is only a special application
of their theory of the sensations which we have already considered, § 113. Its untruth is
made signal and striking by the extreme consequences to which it leads in the case of color.
Our own view, supported by conscious experience, is, that every act of perception involves an
extended object.
The obiect of vision is, however, an extended superficies
Visible exten- ■» . . ' . . . r ..
Bion superficial only. Joy vision only, a sphere is perceived simply as a deli-
cately-shaded circular disc. A cube is a flat surface with
abruptly-shaded portions, bounded by converging lines. If we draw or
paint from Nature, we do it on a surface perfectly flat or even. In order
to do this with truth, we must first see the object, as without obtruding or
receding portions. We must see every object as we should see it if we
had no sense except original or direct vision. We must copy such as
they appear to or are seen by the eye alone, and divest and clear them
of all those properties which the mind supplies or adds to the object as
simply seen. Indeed, in some visible objects certain of these original
aspects are apparent and obtrusive. We cannot, with the utmost effort,
see some objects as they are. When, for example, we stand at the end
of a long street, the lines of houses, or of trees, or posts, approach one
another till they nearly meet in a point. But they do not converge in
fact ; they are exactly parallel.
"The perception of solid form is entirely a matter of experience. We see nothing but flat colors ; and
It is only by a series of experiments that we find out that a stain of black or gray indicates the dark side
of a solid substance, or that a faint hue indicates that the object in 'which it appears is far away. The
whole technical power of painting depends on our recovery of what may be called the innocence of the eye ;
that is to say, of a sort of a childish perception of these fiat stains of color merely as such, without con-
sciousness of what they signify, as a blind man would see them if suddenly gifted with sight."— John
Ruskin, Elements of Dravring, pp. 5 and 6. London, 1857.
156 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 134
It has been insisted by some that the eye perceives more than superficial
Contrary view, extension — that we discern by vision, depth, or the third dimension ; that
The stereoscope. t]ie e^ ag it werGj geeg aroun(j a Sphere, or along the receding sides of a
cube. An appeal is confidently made to Wheatstone's discoveries in respect
to binocular vision, and the application of the same in the stereoscope. Wheatstone, as is
well known, discovered that every object, as a statue, a cube, or a house, when seen by the
right eye only, presents more of the receding surface toward the right than when the same ob-
ject is perceived by the left eye. The converse is true of similar portions of such objects when
seen by the left eye alone. He caused these two views of objects as seen by each eye singly,
to be drawn and shaded exactly as they are perceived. He then presented each to its eye in
the same plane and at such a distance that the converging axis of each eye should be easily
directed to its appropriate object. He found, as the result, that the two objects were seen as
one. For an instant the two seem to distract the vision, that vacillates between two objects
and one. But as soon as the axes are steadied, and the converging gaze is fixed, they blend
into one, and start forth from the background into the relief of a projecting figure. From
this phenomenon it is argued, that, by the application of both eyes in vision, we perceive the
third dimension — i. e., we see the receding surfaces of objects as receding, and not as on a
plane. The conclusion very far outruns the data from which it is derived. The objects seen
through the stereoscope are not in relief, but are in a superficies or plane. ~No third dimen-
sion exists, but the usual signs of its presence are so striking, that the mind leaps for the
instant to the conclusion that they in fact exist. The experiment of the stereoscope is so far
from confirming the view that the third dimension is actually seen, that it shows most deci-
sively that it cannot be, by effecting an illusion which is well-nigh perfect, even though the
object is drawn and actually seen upon a plane.
8 134. The question has been very frequently and very
A single object , ... - _ -,'__. .. .•.%■.-,»
seen with two earnestly discussed, ' How is it possible that the mind should
apprehend but a single object by means of two eyes ? ' The
question has been variously answered by physiologists. Some have in-
sisted that one eye only is in fact used in the act of vision, the office of the
second being to strengthen or reinforce the nervous or physiological action
of the first. Others teach that the mind beholds two objects in fact, but
passes so readily from the one to the other, as in effect to apprehend only
one. Others have sought to solve the problem by tracing the impressions
made upon the corresponding parts of each retina, through the correspond-
ing nerves of each, to a common blending or meeting-place in the organ-
ism, where the two are fused into one. So far as these facts are purely
physiological, if they are to throw any light on the psychical act or object,
they must assume that the mind performs the act by a conscious recog-
nition of the retina, or the nervous apparatus, which is not true.
The psychical act is occupied with a psychical object, which, as has been explained, is
colored extension. It sometimes happens that, in consequence of a diseased or abnormal con-
dition of the eye or its nervous apparatus, the mind perceives two objects, when it ought to per-
ceive but one. How is this to be explained, and what light does the fact shed upon the rela-
tion of vision with one eye, to vision with two ? We answer : In double vision the mind
beholds two similar objects in two directions. Direction is a psychical element or relation of
that extension and space which we assume to be a priori and necessary to sense-perception.
That this happens by reason of a physiological derangement, we know ; but how or why this
should occasion this psychical result, cannot be explained, 4pr the reasons already given. The
§ 136. CLASSES OF SENSE-PEECEPITONS. 15*
only plausible attempt at analysis is the following : ' In single vision two percepts are perceived
in the same part of the field of view. They must necessarily coincide. If the one overlaps
the other, the one must obscure or strengthen the other.' The case is not supposable, from the
nature of the percept. Usually, the object seen by one eye, as it were, predominates and
directs the knowing ego to construct both as one, through its interest in the interpretation of what
(he percept represents, rather than in the percept itself. The possibility of such an interpreta-
tion by the intellect will be better understood when we consider the acquired perceptions.
ori -nai lace of § *35, ^e <luestion also suggests itself, Where, in relation
Setvisible per" to ^e retma or tne e7e> *s ** tnat tne visikle object [i. e., the
variously-colored plane or disc first apprehended] is placed in
the original act of vision : is it in the retina itself, or in the front of the
eye ? or is it projected in space — say at the proper focal distance before
the eye ? The question, in all its forms, supposes greater or a more ma-
tured knowledge of space, distance, and position than the mind can pos-
sess when it begins to see. The act of vision alone — i. e., as excited with-
out the aid of touch — does not at once distinguish these relations, or
direct the attention to the sensations which involve their recognition.
The muscles of the eye play too easily, and the attendant sensations are
too indefinite and indifferent, to allow us to suppose that the mind derives
through them so distinct apprehensions of the optical sensorium as to
separate from it the exciting object, even if we should allow that, by vis-
ion alone, it could gain any perception of the third dimension — i. e., of
distance. We shall see that it is by touch that we first gain definite and
measured perceptions of this third dimension. Touch also, by its more
positive and obtrusive muscular and tactual sensations, calls attention to
the space discriminations which these sensations involve. There can be
no doubt that in the order of development, so far as space relations are
concerned, the eye first follows the hand, and afterward leads it.
Position, or place, as applied to perceived objects, is relative. It supposes some objects
to be fixed as starting-points, and others as standards of measuring or estimating distance from
them. None such can be definitely fixed and familiar before the not-body is distinguished from
the body, and before the hand, the eye, and the parts of the external body have been fixed in
their relative positions. The vague knowledge of extended matter which the sensorium gives
must first be made definite by a bounding outline ; and the most familiar extra-organic objects
must first be placed apart from one another, before the eye or the retina can be known as the
instrument of vision, or either can be distinguished as the place or the seat of the sense-per-
cept. Long before these cognitions are attained, the sense-percept seen by the eye will have
been carried by the hand into the space without the body, and irrecoverably connected with its
sorrespondent touch-percepts, in the way hereafter to be described (§§ 15*7-9).
§ 136. The superiority of the eye to the other senses is
Dignity of the owing in part to the unobtrusive delicacy of its sensations.
They do not occupy the attention and detain it from the
object itself and its relations. The force and tension of the soul's activity
are given to these. Vision is capable of far finer, discriminations than
touch. A hair of the diameter of .002 of an inch can be distinctly seen.
158 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 137
The eye can also pass from one object to another with a swiftness which
none of the other organs can imitate. In so doing, it can place data at
the service of the intellect as quickly as the intellect can use them, how-
ever rapid may he its movements. By its swift and wide-reaching mo-
tions it can imitate the slower and limited motions of the hand, drawing
outlines, constructing figures, measuring distances, combining groups and
elements, with surprising rapidity and truth. The cultivated eye sweeps
across a landscape, and in an instant the mind computes the size and dis-
tance of its principal objects, and unites them together within a frame-
work of mathematical relations. The minuteness of the observed distinc-
tions, the vividness of the contrasts, the cheerfulness of the colors, the
stimulus of the light, the sharpness of the outlines, enable the mind to
hold fast its perceptions, to recall them vividly and at will, and to employ
them for science, art, or practical life. The eye has always ranked as the
noblest of the senses ; and many of the words which describe the actions
of the pure intellect, as to see, to perceive, to discern, are taken apparently
from this sense, though perhaps all are finally to be traced to the sense of
touch.
CHAPTER V.
THE ACQUIKED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS.
Thus far in our inquiries we have considered each of the senses singly. "We have seen that
by each of these we gain peculiar knowledge. We perceive sights only by the eye, and
sounds only by the ear. In connection with these diverse objects, we apprehend certain
relations common to all, viz., externality and extension. In other words, by each of the
organs we experience a determinate sensation, and apprehend an object that is both ex-
tended, and also distinguishable from the sentient and perceiving mind. The relations
under which these objects are known, are apprehended more distinctly through some
of the senses than through others.
8 137. But the range of our sense-perceptions is far wider
Sense-percep- ° , . _._ , ,
tions, original than this. We early learn to use one sense in place of
and acquire . anotner5 or 0f several, and to apply the knowledge which is
given by one, in place of that which belongs to one or more of those which
are unused. Thus, if I go into a darkened room and perceive a peculiar
fragrance, I know and say there is a rose or a tuberose, in the apart-
ment— though I can see or handle neither. By means of the odor, I am
directed to the place where the flower is placed, till I grasp it with my
hand. If I hear a sound, I know it is from a piano, a guitar, or the
human voice, and I know the direction from which it comes, and from
how great a distance. If I look at an iron that is at glowing white heat.
I say, It holes hot— though heat is properly felt. So I look at a surface
§ 138. THE ACQUIRED SENSE-PEKCEPTIONS. 159
of fine velvet, and say, How soft and smooth it looks ; or at a rough and
prickly brush, and, as I gaze at it, I almost feel its harshness in my creep-
ing flesh.
The two classes of sense-perceptions thus characterized are the origi-
nal and the acquired. They are thus defined : An original perception is
one that is performed by a single sense, when exercised alone. Whatever
the mind knows in this way, either of an object or of its relations, is known
directly and by an original endowment of man. It is a pure work or
operation of nature, and cannot be traced to art. An acquired perception
is one which we gain by experience or exercise. We use the knowledge
given directly by one sense, as the sign or evidence of the knowledge
which we might, but do not, in this particular case, gain by another,
im ortance of § I38* The importance of the acquired perceptions is mani-
and time of gam- fes£ frorn the greater frequency with which we brine: them
mg, the acquired o j. .' o
perceptions. {ni0 usej and ^he confidence with which we rely on them,
as well as from their greater convenience. Indeed, they very often
enable us to gain information we could not easily obtain without them,
and often not at all by a direct use of the appropriate sense. Thus, a man
strikes with a hammer upon the head of a barrel, and knows in an instant
whether it is full or empty, without the trouble of opening it. A surgeon
applies his ear to the breast of his patient, and determines whether the
lungs or heart are diseased, where, and how far. An architect, by a
glance of the eye, sees whether the framing of a bridge or roof is safe ;
or he measures off" the dimensions of its parts by the eye as accurately as
he could by his hand, or an instrument.
The time when, many of the acquired perceptions are gained, is very
early. The most important, and those which are universally applied, are
made in infancy, at a period earlier than the memory can recall, and by
processes which the memory cannot untwine, nor any subtle analysis easily
resolve. Others, which are commenced in infancy, are perfected in youth
and early manhood. Many are not complete till the senses, through age,
begin to fail, and the attention becomes less energetic and agile. We
begin the education of the senses in the earliest moments of infancy. The
artist, the mechanic, the musician, and the observer of nature, never
finish it, till the organs refuse to aid and to serve the observing inind*
Many of these acquisitions are made so early, that they cannot be distinguished from the
original teachings of Nature. In very many, the process is performed so rapidly that it is
difficult for us to believe that the mind goes through any process at all, the knowledge comes
so simply and directly. Hence, the analysis of these subtle movements and their products is so
exciting and instructive. To 4 untwist the secret chains ' which were wrought so nicely before
we can remember, and by arts which we seek to imagine but cannot recall, fascinates us by
the mystery of the problem, and challenges the utmost of our skill.
It is better that we begin with those which have been made within our memory, of which
the stages and the means are within our view and at our command. We may afterward ven-
ture to unravel the more delicate tissues that have been wrought by the finer and more dexter-
160 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §139.
cms arts of infancy, in that early yet mysterious period when Heaven lies close about us, and
seems to direct the movements of the soul.
In explaining these later operations, we must suppose the process of sense-perception to
be so far complete as to have given us distinct objects — material things, as we call them —
made up of the varied percepts appropriate to each of the senses ; fixed or movable in space,
possessed of varied qualities, as relations to space, and to one another and the percipient
mind. But we may be allowed thus to anticipate the results of later inquiries, for the great
advantage which it will give us in interpreting the unknown and the unfamiliar by the familiar
and the known.
Tho acquired § 139# ^e acquired perceptions of smell and of hearing
6meiiptioils °f inv^e our firs^ attention, because they can be most readily
explained. Our first examples are of odors. We experi-
ence the sensations of smell, as from a lily or tuberose, from camphor or
musk. We ascribe them to certain objects of given appearance and struc-
ture, without the use of the sight or the touch by which the appearance
or structure is directly discerned. The ground of this confident knowl-
edge is experience. There is no reason a priori, why the fragrance of the
tuberose should not proceed from the lily, and the fragrance of the lily
from the tuberose ; no known cause why camphor and musk should not
interchange their odors. We have simply learned by experience, that in
all cases where the sensation is experienced, a certain object is present.
This experience has ripened into a conviction so firm, that we connect the
one with the other without hesitation, and act upon our belief without
reflection.
We do the same with sounds. We hear a sound, and believe
The acquired . . .
perceptions of that it comes from a bell. We hear another, and know it is
from a drum ; another still, and say, There goes a cart, or a
coach. We stand upon a height ; we make the ear attent, and listen for
distant sounds : one is of the crowing cock, another of the axe of the
woodman, another of a rifle-shot, another of a moving railway train,
another of the cry of distress. Each of these sounds we ascribe to its
appropriate object with positive certainty, on the ground of simple expe-
rience.
We not only learn in this way the objects which occasion smells and sounds, but we learn
the place and direction of both. In a darkened room, or in a strange garden by night, we can
tell whether the lily or the tuberose is near or far, and in what direction ; whether we are near
to, or remote from a bed of violets or of roses. This is especially true of sounds. We know
whether a ringing bell is on our right, or on our left ; whether it is high, or low ; whether a
military band is far, or near ; whether it approaches, or recedes. That knowledge of this kind
is founded on experience only, is obvious from the fact, that when the usual or the assumed
conditions or occasions of our knowledge are changed, we are mistaken in respect to the place,
direction, and distance of a sound, and that mistakes in respect to these lead to error in regard
to the object which occasions it. The beating of our own hearts may be mistaken for a knock-
ing at the door ; the trampling of horses in a neighboring stable, and the cutting of wood in a
neighboring cellar, may be thought to be within our own dwelling. The rattling of a cart on
a bridge may be mistaken for distant thunder ; the humming of a mosquito, for a distant cry
§ 140. THE ACQUIRED SENSE-PEECEPTIONS. 161
of alarm, or the sound of a trumpet. In such cases the sound must first be removed by oui
mistaken judgment to a great distance, in order that it may be ascribed to a false occasion.
"We apply smells and sounds to a still wider range of objects. By smell, we determine
the taste of articles of food, the presence of poison, or of potent medical or chemical ingre-
dients, the constitution of an ore or an earth. By sound, we judge of the quantity or quality
of the metal in a sonorous body, of the density of a wood, of the kind of stone, and the genu-
ineness of a coin.
Acquired er- § ^®' ^e ac9.u^re^ perceptions of sight are still more nu-
ceptions of nierous and interesting. These divide themselves into sev-
sight. Distance &
judged by size. eral classes. The first of these are the judgments of dis-
tance by size. If we know the real magnitude of an object, we judge
how far distant it is by means of its apparent magnitude. If we hold
any familiar object, as a globe two feet in diameter, near the eye, and
then remove it slowly, it will dwindle away first to an inconsiderable ball,
and then to a mere speck. If we know its real size, by its apparent mag-
nitude we judge how far it is actually removed. So true is this, that
from a magnitude that is falsely assumed, we mistake as to the real dis-
tance, and are as confident and as prompt in our mistaken perception as
though the data and the inference were both correct.
Let a person look over the coping of a wall, or the ridge of an intervening building, and
see only the spire of a miniature church — say of a bird-house — and believe it to be attached
to a real church, and he will at once see it as a very distant spire. Or let him, under like cir-
cumstances, view a toy coach with all its appointments, and believe it to be a coach of ordinary
size, and he will at once project it as far away as the diminished magnitude requires. In pure
outline drawing, when no accessions of shading are added — as, for example, in the so-called
etchings of Retzsch — distance is represented in part by diminished magnitude.
Second: We judge of magnitude by the assumed distance. When we have
Judgments of a full and distinct impression of the distance of objects, we see — ?. e., per-
magnitude by .,,..-,, . „, , ,
distance. ceive — them m full size. We every day see men and other objects at long
distances greatly diminished and dwarfed, and yet we do not perceive or
judge them to be smaller than they really are. A lofty building viewed at a very great dis-
tance, or a tall ship far off at sea, will even seem loftier than when viewed from a position
very near, from which the beholder looks upward, without distance and other aids by which to
judge of their height. The most impressive judgments of the height of the loftiest moun-
tains and edifices are gained by seeing them at a great distance over an intervening plain.
Judgments of Third : If the magnitude is unknown, or not considered, we
color anoutiin>J JU(^ge °f distance by means of the intensity of the color, the
clearness, etc. sharpness of the outline, and the clearness or confusion of
the distinguishable parts. For example, should we view, through a tube,
several trees of the same species, as the elm, 'the maple, or the oak, re-
moved at different distances from' one another, the nearest would be
known by its brighter green, its more sharply defined outline, and its
more clearly distinguished leaves and branches. By these circumstances,
designated technically as ' atmosphere] painters produce the effect of near-
ness or distance, with accessories of relative magnitude and of more or
fewer intervening objects.
11
162 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 140.
The traveller in Italy, especially when he goes directly from England, judges the moun-
tains to be far nearer than they are in fact. The atmosphere is so much more transparent than
that to which he is accustomed, as to bring out the outlines and face of the mountains so dis-
tinctly that he cannot believe them so distant as they are. There is now and then a fine day
in autumn with us, on which the distant hills and rocks seem to come most startlingly near,
and at times to hang over the valley in threatening proximity. By a double process of judg-
ment, objects seen in a mist assume a gigantic size. The indistinctness of their outline forces
the mind to judge them far removed ; the distance is incorrectly interpreted, and then their
apparent magnitude at such a distance forces us again to invest them with gigantic propor-
tions. The illusion is greatly heightened, if the mist is so dense as to hide the ground
between the observer and the object.
Judgments of We judge also of the size of objects, by comparing them
equidistent01^- w^ ot^er objects which are or seem to be at equal distance
Jects- from ourselves. If the size or distance of our standard of
comparison is incorrectly taken, we misjudge altogether. Dr. Abercrom-
bie {Intellectual Powers) tells us that, on going up Ludgate Hill toward
the great door of St. Paul's, which was open, he took several persons, who
were standing under the opening, to be children, whom he found, on com-
ing up to them, to be foil-grown men. The reason was, that he assumed
the height of the door to be less than it really was, and, by this false
standard, he misjudged the size of the persons who stood under it.
A striking illustration is related by Upham {Elements of Mental Philosophy) from the
Edinburgh Journal of Science, No. vii., p. 90. Some defect being observed in the effect of a
dioramic representation of Rochester Cathedral, an attendant undertook to remedy it by
adjusting the canvas. As he passed his hand across the surface, it was observed to grow
enormously large when it reached that part of the picture which represented the remotest part
of the interior of the church. The hand, by the effect of the perspective, was first thrown
back to the furthest extremity of the vista of receding pillars, and was then measured by
the assumed size of the objects at the end. In this case there was a double judgment ; first,
the size of the objects which were employed as the standard was estimated by their distance
as represented in the painting ; and second, the hand was thrown very far back from the eye.
Being judged by the estimated size of the objects thus enlarged, it was thought to be enor-
mously large.
influence of in- ^ur iw^me?z^ °f distance vary according as there are more
termediate ob- or fewer intermediate objects. Objects seen across the land
seem further than objects at the same distance seen across
the water. A given expanse of the sea is greatly enlarged to the eye
when a score or two of vessels are anchored at different distances along
its surface. A level meadow or prairie, with copses, trees, and dwellings
interspersed, seems far more extended than without them. A salt marsh,
when dotted with haystacks, seems wider than at the season when they
are removed.
Intermediate objects, by affecting our judgments of distance, affect our
judgments of size. .The sun and moon appear larger when near the hori-
zon than when toward the zenith. Through the influence of intervening
objects and the dimming influence of the atmosphere, they are removed to
§141. THE ACQUIKED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 163
a greater distance, and then judged to be larger. The sky itself, for this
reason, is not the half of a sphere, but a section, of which the height is
shorter than half the base. The moon, rising from behind a wood, is greatly
enlarged, because its disc is divided into several portions by the trunks 01
branches of the trees, by which its apparent size is measured. It is thus
brought nearer than is usual, and then compared with familiar standards of
size. The effect is heightened by the glare from the reflected light, which
causes trees and moon to be blended into a common impression, and to
stand in the same plane.
When the ordinary standards of judgment are withdrawn, and our accustomed processes
cannot bo applied, we are either greatly embarrassed, and even bewildered, or we fall into
serious and amusing errors. Captain Parry says : " "We had frequent occasion, in our walks on
shore, to remark the deception which takes place in estimating the distance and magnitude of
objects over an unvaried surface of snow. It was not uncommon for us to direct our steps
toward what we took to be a large mass of stone at the distance of half a mile from us, but
which we were able to take up in our hands after one minute's walk. This was more particu-
larly the case when ascending the brow of the hill." The traveller in Switzerland finds it
impossible to believe that the mountains are so high or so distant as he is told they are. He
cannot trust his judgments in respect to either, because so few of his usual standards are at
hand. So faulty and confused is his vision at times, that his feelings of awe and his sense of
the sublime fail to do justice to the grandeur of the scenes.
Let any person closely observe and attempt to analyze his own processes in vision, and he
will be surprised to find how small a portion he actually or accurately sees of very familiar
objects, when they are viewed from a distance ; how little he discerns with the eye, and how
much he supplies by the mind. We look at a dwelling, and think we can distinguish and
trace the windows and doors ; we see a person, and are certain that we discern his form, his
dress, his gait, and his features ; but if we look more closely, we find that we see with far less
accuracy, and see fewer separate parts or objects, than we had thought, and that we supply
many elements that are wholly wanting, and complete many that are very defective to the
bodily eye.
§ 141. By means of sight we acquire perceptions appropriate
form, etc., by to the touch. When we look at a sphere, we see by the eye
only a circular disc, on which the transitions of color, or of
light and shade, pass so finely into one another, that we know, if we
grasp it with our hands, we shall feel it to be spherical in form. A
sphere may be so skilfully painted in fresco on a flat surface, that we actu-
ally take it to be a sphere in fact. We often seem to see projecting stat-
ues, graduated mouldings, depressed panels, receding corridors, vaulted
domes ; and yet, as we approach, we find only a plane surface.
When the blind from birth are restored to sight, they come into a new world, of the
percepts of which, and their relations to the percepts already familiar to their touch, they have
had no previous knowledge. They must therefore go through a special discipline in order to
connect the well-known objects of touch with the newly-acquired experiences of the eye.
Thus the blind boy whose sight was restored by Cheselden could not call the cat and dog by
their right names, or could not tell which was the cat and which was the dog. He could dis-
tinguish them, indeed, even by the eye, but he had not learned to connect the dog and cat as
164 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §141.
handled — to the appropriate forms of which he had attached the names — with the dog and cat
which he saw, so as to be able to feel them by means of his eyes. Finding himself, one day,
at fault, he carefully felt of the cat with his hands, his eyes being shut, and set her down,
exclaiming, " So, puss, I shall know you another time." The question has been often asked
(cf. Locke, Essay, B. ii. c. ix. § 8), whether a blind man, on being restored to sight, would
know a cube from a sphere. It is obvious that, so far as mere vision is concerned, he could
not but distinguish the two objects so soon as he attended to them with the eye. What he
would need to acquire would be the capacity readily to connect the visible, with the tangible
cube and sphere.
A very well educated blind man, who had reflected on his own intellectual processes, and
had read somewhat in psychology, once observed to the writer, ' I can imitate form by form,
I can cut out and shape a dog in wood after a model which I can handle, but how it can be
possible to represent form and relief upon a flat surface, as in painting and drawing, I cannot
conceive. It is to me an inexplicable mystery.'
The process by which the blind just restored to sight connect the eye with the voice, is beautifully
conceived in King Rene's daughter (New York, 1867), where Iolanthe recognizes her father, Bene, and
her lover, Tristan.
Ebn Jahia Qier physician) : Arise, arise, my child, and look around.
Iolanthe (the patient) : Say, what are these, that bear such noble forms ?
Ebn Jahia : Thou know'st them all.
Iolanthe : Ah, no ; I can know nothing.
Bene {approaching Iolanthe): Look on me, Iolanthe— me, thy father !
Iolanthe (embracing him) : My father ! Oh, my God ! Thou art my father I
I know thee now— thy voice, thy clasping hand.
Stay here ! Be my protector— be my guide !
I am so strange here, in this world of light.
They've taken all that I possessed away —
All that in old time was tby daughter's joy.
Bene : I have cull'd out a guide for thee, my child.
Iolanthe : Whom mean'st thou?
Bene (pointing to Tristan) : See, he stands expecting tbee.
Iolanthe : The stranger yonder ? Is he one of those
Bright cherubim thou once didst tell me of?
Is he the angel of the light come down ?
Rene : Thou knowest him— hast spoken witb him. Think !
Iolanthe : With him ? with him ? (holds her hands before the eyes)
Bather, I understand.
In yonder glorious form must surely dwell
The voice that late I heard— gentle, yet strong ;
The one sole voice that lives in Nature's round.
(To Tristan) Oh, but one word of what thou saidst before !
Tristan : Oh, sweet and gracious lady !
Iolanthe : List ' on» list !
"With these dear words the light's benignant rays
Bound out a way to me, and these sweet words
With my heart's warmth are intimately blent.
Bor an interesting memoir concerning James Mitchel, a youth who was both deaf and blind, see
Dugald Stewart, Elements, vol. iii. app. For accounts of Laura Bridgman, a blind deaf-mute, see Annual
Reports of the Mass. Institution for the Blind, by S. G. Howe. Also a memoir in Smithsonian Contri-
tions, vol. ii., by F. Lieber. Bor accounts of Julia Brace, also a blind deaf-mute, see Reports of the Ameri-
can Asylum, Hartford, Conn.
§142. THE ACQUIRED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 165
Form distance § 142* *"• tne examples which have been cited, we translate
and magnitude : the perceptions given by sight into those which are derived
now far learned i j. o ./ o
from touch. from touch. The proposition is sometimes broadly and posi
tively laid down, that from the touch is derived all perception whatever
of form, distance, and magnitude ; inasmuch as in all cases, in the last
analysis and as a final resort, we must come back to the touch as furnish-
ing the ultimate standard. The position is sometimes stated thus : All
visible extension must be reduced to that which is tangible. These propo-
sitions need to be somewhat qualified, if we hold that by the sight we
perceive superficial extension. They are true to the letter of all those
perceptions which involve the relation of depth, or the third dimension of
space ; but to all judgments of superficial form and dimensions they can-
not literally apply. To the blind, however, it is true that touch furnishes
the only possible standard of definite form, distance, and size.
The blind man applies his finger, his hand, or his arm, to every object which he encoun-
ters, and measures its size by these as standards. He measures length or distance also by the
successive steps which he must take to reach objects that are remote. He uses his muscular
sensations also to modify and complete many perceptions of form. But those who see, per-
ceive objects extended superficially. Why, then, may they also not apply any of these objects
as units of measurement, and as standards by which to judge of form and size ? And why,
when the mind has mastered, through touch, the third dimension of space, may not they, as the
point of view is changed, be applied to measure this also ? We reply, they may, and would
do so always, if what is called the apparent magnitude of the standard, and of the objects to
which it is applied, did not constantly change as these are near or remote. A yard-stick or a
foot-rule may be so far removed from the eye, as to measure to the eye no more than a foot or
an inch respectively. Even though the standard is unaltered by position, the object measured
may, by being itself carried near or far, measure a foot, a yard, or a rod. It is only because
we are certain that the standard and its objects coincide, that we are satisfied when we bring
the rule to the surface of the object by the hand. But even then we use the eye, in order to
be certain that the objects coincide. The hand of the blind, however surprising may be its
delicacy of touch, can never attain the fineness of the eye in discerning the lines of coinci-
dence. Give the practised eye an assurance that its distances are correctly taken, and it will
measure and judge with marvellous accuracy. In very many instances the eye supplies or
corrects what is defective to the hand, as truly as, in many others, the hand brings the eye to
itself for the final adjustment of its wavering and uncertain movements. It is a circumstance
which is worthy attention, and certainly ought not in this connection to be overlooked, that
the point of distance from the eye at which vision, with most men, is most satisfactory, coin-
cides with that at which the hand can most conveniently handle and hold an object.
The doctrine that in the original perceptions of vision the mind cannot perceive distance, has been
denied by some able authors, particularly by Samuel Bailey, in his Review of Berkeley's Theory of Vision,
London, 1842 ; and by Thomas K. Abbot, M.A. Trin. Coll. Dublin, in " Sight and Touch, an attempt to
disprove the received or (Berkeleiari) Theory of Vision." London, 1864. Both these writers urge their most
plausible objections against the doctrine as Berkeley held it, some features of which have been abandoned
by its recent defenders. Berkeley insisted (Theory of Vision Vindicated and Explained, MacMillan & Co.,
1860) that we have do knowledge of extension in any of its dimensions by vision ; that vision gives coloi
only, and that there is no necessary connection between visible and tangible extension. All of these posi-
tions have been abandoned by most who adhere to his doctrine that the third dimension of extension is
not the object of vision proper, but is inferred by its appropriate signs. Against this doctrine Abbot con-
tends that sight and not touch " is the sense properly perceptive of distance or trinal extension." Abbot,
however, does not himself hold, that the perception of the dis:ance of an object is immediate, but that it u
166 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 143
effected by means of the varying sensations which attend the adjustments of the eye. Distance in general,
or space being given, i. ©., -without or beyond the eye, the mind, in Ms view, judges of the respective distances
»f visible objects by the delicate sensations which the eye experiences in adjusting its axes or its lenses-
one or both— to the positions requisite for distinct vision. This is to make the original perceptions of dis-
tance to be judgments or inferences by signs, the signs being furnished by the eye itself. This in principle
is coincident with one feature of Berkeley's theory, the difference being, that Abbot asserts that it is from
the eye and not from touch, that these signs are originally furnished.
The only question now in dispute may be said to be this, Is the perception of distance by the eye
original or acquired? is it the result of instinctive discernment or of rational judgment ? It is not whether
he assumption of space or trinal extension is required as the condition of externality to both mind and
body, for this must be provided in some way or other, but it is whether the eye as eye, can see directly
relative, i. e., concrete, extension in the third dimension? Upon this question Abbot takes both sides. In
his analysis of the process of vision he denies. But, in the argument which he founds upon the observation
of infants and the young of animals as well as of the cases of the blind restored to sight, he affirms.
. , § 143. It is by the acquired perceptions that we definitely
Acquired sense- u . . • ' .
perceptions of assiern the places of our sensations to the different parts of
our own body. -i •*".■*
the body.
All the sense-perceptions must be known to have some place in the
sensorium (§ 114), though the limits of the place may not be definitely
drawn, and the relative position of each perception may not be exactly
fixed. We cannot believe, as we have already argued, that the sensations
of sight, of hearing, of pain in the breast or in the teeth, could all be expe-
rienced together without being known to pertain to the extended senso-
rium, and, in some sense, to different parts of the same. Whatever is
involved in such a perception, taken singly, is an original perception.
Whatever is added or superinduced by combining several perceptions, is
acquired by experience. For example : an adult person has a pain in one
of his teeth, he does not know which — or a cut in a part of his arm, he
does not know exactly where. If he touches the tooth with his tongue,
or if he discovers in a mirror, which one is defective, he ascertains which is
the one affected ; he learns, as we say, where the pain is. In a similar way,
by the eye, we fix the place of the cut in the arm. By processes similar
to this, that is, by processes of combining subjective sensations — i. e.,
muscular and organic, with those of sight and touch as employed on the
surface of the body — we learn to connect the one with the other, till we
reach all the definiteness that is possible to be attained.
That much of this knowledge is acquired, is evident from some cases of lesion in different
parts of the body, and of the loss of a limb by amputation. A man who has no foot, will feel
pain in the foot. Why? Because he experiences precisely the same sensations which he
suffered when he had the foot, and knew it was the seat of the pain. But if he had never had
a foot, he would never have assigned pain to it ; for he would never have had the means, by
eye or hand or muscular sensations, of connecting these sensations with it. Some perceptions
are far more definite than others. All those connected with the eye and the ear are con-
fidently ascribed to their several organs ; the subjective and vital perceptions it is often very
difficult exactly to locate.
Acquired perccp- ^r *s a*so ^y *ne acquired perceptions that we learn to regu-
S^i^Sif0 late and control the movements of the body. Man was
manage and con- J
troi the body. made to move. The first and most elementary activities of
§144. T11E ACQUIRED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 16^
his complex nature are manifested by bodily movements. When the soul,
so to speak, finds the body, it finds it in motion. Not only is this true,
but the body is, by its very structure, adapted to certain specific motions,
as of walking, speaking, and singing, all having a precise and definite rela
tion to either its present or its future wants or enjoyments. These bodily
capacities the soul acquires the power to use in definite ways for specific
ends. The motions to which nature prompts, the intellect learns to con-
trol and regulate, so as to bring to pass special and determinate results.
This is done by acquiring the capacity to combine and connect various
perceptions with certain efforts to move the body, which efforts are
brought within its reach by the soul's own perceptions. This is a general
statement of the facts and principles which relate to this subject. A
more particular consideration of them requires the distinct consideration
of two separate questions : What does nature provide or furnish ? and
how does the intellect apply these provisions or furnishings of Nature ?
We ask, first : What does nature provide f
what does Na- 8 144. We have already adverted to the fact (8 108), that
ture provide in ° . . _ . , . , -,. • ' • ' ,
the construction with the sentient nerves, which conditionate sensation, there
the body! are provided the reflex motor, which impel to motion. In
obedience to the stimulus furnished by the one, there is awakened in the
other an unbidden and often an uncontrollable tendency to motion. Con-
sciousness need, and often does not, intervene. The motion will occur
without her bidding, and often without her knowledge. Thus, we wink
in response to the stimulus of light. Thus, the flesh quivers, and with
draws itself from the knife ; the muscles knit themselves into convulsions
and cramps. Under the same law, the excitements being diverse, the
heart beats, the lungs expand, and other involuntary motions are per-
formed. These functions and operations relate to the body, and their
effects terminate in its well-being.
Arran ments There are other movements that are as truly involuntary and
f?/ bodnpUex- connatural, which the intellect has the power to apprehend
pression. an(j the will to control. Such are the muscular efforts that
are involved in speaking, singing, and walking, or in feats of skill or dex-
terity. Many of these relate to the soul as well as to the body, in the
way of use or enjoyment. Some of them are made ready for the spirit
against the time when it shall be sufficiently developed to apply them with
intelligence and design. To all these movements the stimulant comes not
from without, but from within ; not from the surface of the body,
through the sentient inwardly, and back again along the reflex motor
without, but by the direct action of some exciting force from within.
When the infant weeps from pain, and laughs and shouts from delight, it is
under the excitement proceeding directly from the soul, that the muscles
are moved to laughter and to tears. In the same way, every emotion
seeks and finds expression by attitudes, looks, and gestures. Let but the
168 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 145
soul feel wonder or surprise, and the face puts on a peculiar look, the
frame adjusts itself to a given attitude, and the limbs are incited to appro-
priate gestures — i. e., the muscles obey nervous incitements from within,
which produce these outward effects in the body.
In the same way is man prompted to speech : first to inarticulate cries expressing emotion
only, and then to articulate language and words significant of definite thought. Nature pro-
vides for all this, by making man capable of a limited range of vocal sounds, through the
action of those muscles that move the larynx ; and nature prompts to the use of these
muscles in various ways, according to the varying excitements of feeling and thought. To
very many, if not to all of these effects, the consentient action of many muscles is required.
For this, Nature provides by so arranging the structure of the nerves through which these
consentient muscles are excited, that, under the stimulus of feeling or thought, those needed,
and those alone, shall be aroused to the united activities which conspire to the single effect.
Arrangements ^°^ omV ^oes na*ure provide for the conspiring action of
actMtyofSffer- severa^ muscles to one effect, but she even arranges for and
ent parts. prompts to the combined action of different parts of the
body, in obedience to a single impulse. In order to progress by walking,
each leg must alternately advance before and wait for the other. To this
alternate motion there is an original impulse. It is a movement which the
infant makes long before it begins to walk. The arms, on the other hand,
tend to move together. So do the fingers. It is difficult, and sometime?
Impossible, by any effort to bring certain of the fingers to a separate action.
But it is in the eyes that this tendency to joint action is most conspicuous.
The eyes will persistently move in the same direction together. They
cannot be forced to act apart. One eye cannot by any violence be made
to look upward while the other is directed downward. One will not tend
to the right, and the other to the left.
Even more than this is true. There seems to be, so to speak, a natural aptitude for the
joint action of organs that are not paired together, but which yet are fitted to aid each other
in important uses. This is preeminently true of the eye and the hand. The eye must lead the
hand, and the hand follow the eye, in a multitude of actions. When we would touch or grasp
a small object at the first trial, the eye must guide. When we would strike it with a stick
which, we hold, or with a projectile, the eye must conspire with a fixed and earnest gaze.
There must be some physical reason for this concurrent action of nerves and muscles connect-
ed witk two organs, though it has not yet been discovered.
We ask, second : How does the intellect apply icJiat nature pi'ovides?
„ ■ • ■,. ■'. 8 145. The intellect finds itself furnished with this corporeal
IIo-w does them- o ^ r
teiject avail itself instrument, and actually using it under the promptings of
ments ! nature ; it finds itself laughing, weeping, speaking, and
walking, under the promptings of nature, and it acquires the power of
directiDg these activities in particular methods and to certain definite
results, and of doing this so readily, that it does not notice its own pro-
cesses, or advert to the elements of which these processes consist. First,
it observes the muscular sensations which are employed when certaic
§145. THE ACQUIEED SENSE-PERCEPTIOXS. 169
effects occur, and the effects it observes by the appropriate sense-percep-
tion. It experiments upon them, and notices how the sensations which
are connected with the varying use of its muscles are connected with a
varying effect. Then it tentatively and designedly repeats the effect which
it has chanced to produce, or it seeks to imitate the effect which anothe.
has accomplished ; e. g., to utter a sound, to refrain from laughter or from
weeping, to walk slowly or rapidly, or with a particular gait. By the
repetition of the effort, the effect is produced without attention to the
means, till at last the effect seems to occur without the use of these
means at all. When the mind would accomplish an object, as utter a
sound, hold a book, or let it fall, walk, run, or leap, it thinks only of the
effect, and wills it, and it is done.
When we speak of the necessity that certain muscles should conspire to produce a par-
ticular result, and say that the required action is known to the mind by means of muscular
sensations, it is not to be inferred that there is a special sensation appropriate to each separate
muscle, and, of course, a special complex of sensations, corresponding to the particular sel
of muscles which are combined to the given result. That these sensations proceed from the
muscles, is least of all known or noticed, inasmuch as the spirit has no direct cognizance of itn
muscles, and does not know how many it uses, or that it uses any, till the anatomist uncovers
them by dissection. The sensation which indicates and guides to a designed effect may bo
simple or complex ; it is sufficient that to each effect a definite sensation is assigned.
By means of such sensations the mind learns to produce these
How we learn to effects with readiness and precision. In learning the un-
familiar sounds or combinations of a foreign language, we
try one experiment after another, till at last we succeed. When the ear is
satisfied that the result is reached, we repeat the muscular effort required,
guided by the muscular sensations, till our command over the organs is
complete, and we can produce at will the sounds which we seek for. The
infant pursues the same method in learning to talk. It is awakened from
its purposeless lispings by the desire to produce a sound, as to pronounce
a word, or brief sentence. At first it succeeds imperfectly, but well
enough to guide its efforts in the direction toward complete success. It
triumphs at last, and it attentively observes the sensation which is con-
nected with the word which it has learned to speak. By producing these
sensations, it can repeat the word or sentence a second time.
The deaf-mute cannot learn to speak, not because he is mute by reason of any defect in
the organs of speech, but because he is deaf, and cannot guide them. He has the vocal appa-
ratus in complete perfection. He can make all the varieties of vocal utterances which are
required in speech. But not having the ear by which to direct his efforts, he can neither
form his own efforts to definite results, nor can he keep the acquisitions which he has made.
In a few casps, the deaf and dumb have been taught to articulate by a discipline specially
directed to the management of the vocal apparatus ; but the articulation is imperfect, and
easily lost. A few striking cases are reported of persons who had lost their hearing in early
childhood, and have yet retained the power of conversation, by reading the words of others on
their lips, and uttering their own by the guidance of their remembered muscular sensations
170 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §145.
But :he articulation usually becomes degenerate and disagreeable, for lack of the correcting
and refining guidance of the ear.
The infant learns to walk as it learns to talk. It notices the
How we leam to sensations which attend those adjustments of the muscles
which are necessary to quick or slow progress, to rising or
sitting, to running or leaping. In all these effects we are usually guided
by the eye. But sometimes we have not the eye to guide us. We ascend
a flight of stairs to which we are accustomed, by a vague remembrance of
the height and width of the steps. The blind depend on the guidance of
others, both in their first essays and in many of the subsequent uses which
they make of their limbs.
Occasionally it happens that a man is forced to learn to walk a second time. TJpham
{Elements, § 110) tells the story of a person whose spine was crushed under the wheels of a
heavy vehicle, so as to disable him from the use of his legs for a long time. On his partial
recovery, he found that, though his muscles were so far uninjured that they would move his
limbs, yet he did not know how to regulate them. He could contract and expand his muscles
in every possible motion, but he did not know which would advance, and which withdraw his
limbs. The muscular sensations on which he had formerly relied were either no longer expe-
rienced, or they did not indicate the same motions as formerly. He was therefore forced, a
second time, to go through the process of learning to connect new muscular sensations with the
movements required.
By similar processes dexterity is acquired in those uses of
Feats of dexter- ,,.,.,., . , . „ n -,
ity. Expres- the limbs which are required in teats of dexterity, as in
sional effects. v . T ■ • #• i i .,. •-,• t. «
sleight oi hand, or in playmg on a musical instrument. By
effort and repetition, new acquisitions may be gained which are more sur-
prising than those movements for which nature provides an original ten-
dency. It is to be observed, however, that whatever movements nature
fails to provide for, she gracefully accepts as a second or additional en-
dowment. The effort to constrain the organs or limbs to an unnatural
position or adjustment, may at first be painful, and it may cost constant
and severe application. But if it is persevered in, and especially if the
intervals in which it is remitted are short, these new adjustments of the
muscles are secured, and they even shape themselves to new forms under
the nervous stimulus that is directed to them. Muscles and nerves that
had never acted together before, conform to new harmonies. While the
mind is renewing its efforts at brief intervals for a succession of months
or years, the substance of the body, in obedience to the laws of life, is
continually changing ; and as it changes in material, it is also changed in
form, under the moulding pressure of psychical tension.
In infancy and early childhood the merely physical capacity of receiving directions and
impressions from within is incomparably more ready and quick than in later years. In early
life, every single distinct effort in the use of any bodily organ seems to initiate a definite physi-
cal predisposition toward a permanent physical effect, either in the force or direction of the
nervous stimulus, or in a new combination of muscles, or the fixing some form or attitude. A
few repetitions, a brief perseverance, and the body is permanently moulded or fixed to tin*
§146. THE ACQUIRED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 171
special service of the soul, in some new aptitude or habit. Hence it is that the bodily habits
acquired in eirly life are so readily contracted and so inveterately retained. But whethe?
the law acts with greater or less efficiency at an early or later period, the principle is the same
Certain muscles of the hand act together under some casual or intended impulse, and a
character is given to the handwriting. Certain other combinations give a distinct individuality
to the gait, the pose of the head, and the bearing of the man. New powers of expression &n>
gained by the vocal organs for the purposes of elocution and music. Peculiar habits of speak-
ing and of singing are assumed. The face becomes capable of expressing an additional num-
ber and variety of shades and moods of feeling. The exercise of severe and concentrated
thought forms the features to a peculiar expression. Care and suffering write lines upon the
brow. Noble and generous emotions, cherished and manifested, fix a spiritual impress upon tht
face. The indulgence of sensual and vicious passions form the muscles to a debased and ani-
malized expression. Thus the body becomes spiritualized by the soul, which employs it in
noble uses, or becomes literally imbruted by being degraded to the service of cunning, of
indolence, and of shame.
These many and various examples of the acquired percep-
summary and tions have been adduced from all the senses in order to prove
inferences. m *
conclusively that we use these perceptions constantly, with-
out reflection, and usually without being aware that the process is mediate
and indirect. They show, moreover, that the fact that the process is per-
formed unconsciously does not prove in the least that the intellect does
not perform a process. The ease, rapidity, and apparent directness of the
movements of the mind are no valid proofs against the position that the
mind, in all these cases, uses one perception as a sign of another. Nor do
they hold at all, when urged against the more obscure and unremembered
processes by which the infant makes its subtle acquisitions, forming those
deft and dexterous habits which give it more than half its individuality,
and weaving those associations which become more than a second nature.
§ 146. What are called the errors of the se?ises lie wholly
The errors of ° . . . . • u . J
the senses ex- within the sphere oi the acquired perceptions. A person
needs only to fall into a few of these mistakes to be con-
vinced that they are mistakes of judgment only, and that, whether he
errs or judges correctly, the process is a process of judgment or induction.
When a man sees, as he says, a bent stick in the water, he judges that it
is bent by what he sees ; or, in other words, he judges by what he sees,
that, if the stick is handled or otherwise tested by the sense of touch, it
will be found to be crooked. And yet he seems to perceive by the eye
that it is bent.1 So, when he looks into a kaleidoscope, and sees scores of
brilliant objects arranged in symmetrical groups, he perceives them all by
the eye, and can count their number, and does not doubt that he can grasp
them all by the hand. It is common in such cases for a person to say that
his senses deceive him. But the senses are not treacherous ; they cannot
deceive. It is the man who is deceived in the judgments which he pro-
nounces, on the evidence which the senses furnish. He is simply hasty
and premature in judging by the eye. He rashly connects, with what he
sees by the eye, something which he believes with his mind. The bent
172 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 146.
stick is perceived when out of the water just as is a bent stick in the water ;
in either case a judgment is pronounced — in the one case a judgment
which is right, in the other a judgment which is wrong.
The muscular sensations of the fingers are also disturbed. We cross
the fingers, and at the points of each a single pea is felt as two. The rea-
son is that the convex surfaces, which as they are usually touched are inter-
preted as looking inward forming a single sphere, seem to look outward,
and by the imagination are interpreted as requiring two, to complete them.
We commit similar errors in all our acquired perceptions. We judge wrongly of the
origin, the place, and the distance of smells and sounds, when the ordinary criteria are not
present, or some extraordinary circumstance is not noticed. So we make many hasty infer-
ences in respect to the size, distance, and form of visible objects, either from the careless use
of the senses themselves, which leads us to overlook some peculiarity of the object directly
perceived, or from the limitations of our previous experience, which have failed to make us
acquainted with some novel element, as the water which refracts the light, or the kaleidoscope
which reflects and multiplies it into bright and symmetrical forms.
This class of the so-called errors and deceptions of the senses
How distill- .,,.. -Tin i !•!•
guished from ousjht to be sharply distinguished from another, which is
another class.
caused by the physical conditions of the sensations them-
selves. Some men, for example, are color-blind — i. e., they see all objects
in one uniform, dingy hue, instead of under the bright and diversified
colors which are granted to the majority of men. Some men, through a
disease of the stomach or liver, see every object tinged with yellow. It
occasionally happens that a man is afflicted with double vision — seeing
two objects in cases where other men see but one. Others see spectra, or
visible images, having no tangible reality, and no reality at all except to
the individual who beholds them. Others hear sounds, as of ringing in
the ears, when there is no sonorous body, and no vibration of the atmo-
sphere. All cases of this kind are not deceptions of the senses, for the
objects perceived are the natural and legitimate product of the physical
conditions that are present ; these conditions being the physical excitants
or stimuli and the sensorium excited, whether healthy or unhealthy,
whether normal or abnormal.
Phenomena of this sort reveal the true nature of the sensational element in the original
perceptions. As the so-called errors in the acquired perceptions call our attention to the real
nature of these perceptions, proving them in all cases to be judgments by signs or evidence,
eo do these abnormal or irregular phenomena of the direct or original perceptions establish
the fact beyond question, that the sensational element is a joint product of the physical agent,
the so-called object, and the sensorium, or animated organism ; that there is no sound without
an ear, no sight without the eye, no touch without the hand, and that what is heard, seen, and
touched, depends on the eye, the ear, and the hand, as truly as upon the object. If we revert
to our original definition of knowledge as the apprehension of objects by their relations, we
should say that the object-matter, the sensational element in the original sense-perceptions,
may change according as its conditions are altered, but that the relations discerned by the per-
ceptional act are always the same, the act itself being inconceivable and impossible without
§ 148. THE ACQUIRED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 173
thein. So far as the speculative question of the veracity and trustworthiness of our powei
of knowledge is concerned, and the speculativo-practical question of the grounds of our con
fidence in the testimony of the senses, both these are to be settled by the general principles
which are fundamental to all the inductive processes. These principles will be considered in
their appropriate place.
The acquired § 14^* ^ne acquired, perceptions differ from the original as
actrsCeofi0know^ kinds or forms of knowledge. Acts of original perception
edse- are acts of direct or immediate knowledge. In such acts
the objects are present to the intellect, and the intellect knows directly
that they are, and that they hold their appropriate relations. Acts of ac-
quired perception are acts of mediate knowledge. In such acts it is by
the medium or through the aid of another act of original perception, that
the object is reached which is perceived by the act in question. Thus,
when I know the occasion of an odor, the size or distance of an object
seen, etc., etc., I use a direct or immediate perception as the medium
through which I reach what I believe or know.
Again : an act of acquired perception requires for its fulfilment the
representative power, in the form of fancy or memory. When the mind,
on occasion of a direct perception, supplies that which it does not directly
feel, or see, or measure, it must bring its object forth from what it has
formerly experienced, either in the precise form of a previous perception,
or of one that is similar or analogous. But the original perception appre-
hends its object directly.
Again : if the act of acquired perception rests upon the representing
power or agency, it must involve the action of the associative power. At
the experience of one odor, we think of a lily; at the experience of an-
other, of the tuberose. At the sight of a distant moving object, no larger
than a speck, we think of a man or a horse. What brings the form of a
rose or a tuberose, the picture of a man or a horse, before my mind's eye
on the occasion of these direct perceptions ? We must anticipate our
knowledge of the laws which govern the representative power, in order to
answer — The laws of association (§ 238).
§ 148. Every act of acquired perception is an act of induc-
ductTon™1™ in" t*on* ^e mui(^ does more than represent some picture or
remembrance out of the stores of its past experience ; it
believes there is a real object corresponding to this picture. In so doing,
it performs a process of induction. It judges, by the signs or indications
which the original perceptions furnish, that there are existing objects
which the other senses would find to exist should they make the trial.
The process by which this belief is attained is variously named inference,
induction, judgment, interpretation, etc. It is peculiar in this, that it
knows by media or signs, and that it assumes that these signs always indi-
cate the same accompaniments, and that the laws and operations of Nature
are uniform in respect to the connections which are indicated (§ 468).
1H THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §148.
It may surprise many to learn that the processes employed in the acquired perceptions are
processes of induction. Induction is usually conceived and described as a process which is
appropriated to philosophical discovery, which requires wide generalization and profound
reflection, and issues only in comprehensive principles and laws. A little reflection will satisfy
any one, however, that the act of mind is the same with that performed in every one of the
acquired perceptions. The difference between the two kinds of induction is not in the process,
but in the materials upon and with which the mind performs them. But the acts, the funda-
mental assumptions, and the liability to error in both, are essentially the same.
But it cannot be possible, it will be urged, that the perceptions which the
Reasons why m- }nfant so rapidly acquires, and which the most ignorant and unreflecting so
these inductions, skilfully apply, are in their nature similar to those profound and daring acts
by which the astronomer scales the heavens, and the naturalist penetrates and
resolves the mysteries of the universe. The difficulties and objections which are expressed in
this language can be most effectually set aside, if we notice the differences in the circumstances
and conditions of the acts performed by the infant and the philosopher.
1. We notice that the infant employs its perceptions upon a very limited number of
objects. The sensations which its own body gives are not very numerous, whether they be
muscular or external. Certainly those to which the attention is at first directed are but few,
and these are vaguely and rudely perceived, and as vaguely recalled. It is not till the
attention is disciplined and matured, and only just as fast as this happens, that it finds in the
body within and the world without an infinitude of distinguishable objects, ever presenting
themselves to be noticed as fast as the attentive mind is applied to observe them.
2. The few objects which the infant mind distinguishes are constantly recurring to view.
The perceptions of the body within, and of the sense-world without, just as fast as they are
perceived and mastered, and become distinct objects, return constantly to the view. Almost
every hour brings back to the infant the whole world of its known objects — the whole of the
universe, so far as explored by itself. All the acts which it has occasion to perform, involving
special subjective or muscular sensations, will return again and again, perhaps a thousand times
a day, filling up the whole horizon of its active exertions, ever recurring till some acquisition
is made or some feat is successfully performed.
8. All the objects and parts of objects with which the infant has to do — in other words,
all its sense-perceptions — have an immediate relation to its appetites and desires. To say
nothing of the inextinguishable and unsated curiosity which stimulates the attention, and puts
the soul upon every experiment which it is capable of performing, most of the objects which
the infant observes are those which appeal directly to some present gratification. The child
desires to walk, to reach, to stand, and its whole soul is absorbed in the effort to perform these
feats. So, too, when it sees an object, that, as a visible percept, attracts the eye ; if it handles
it as well, and grasps or tries to hold it, the satisfaction to the eye is coupled with the gratifica-
tion to the hand, and every muscular movement that disappoints or gives success is likely to
be noticed by reason of its near relation to its wants and longings. In one word, the infant
acquires the most of its secondary perceptions as a means to some pressing desire or urgent
necessity, which is fitted to arouse and fix the attention.
4. When any experiment has been successfully made in the way of connecting the known
and the untried, the gratification at success will stimulate to repetition : and this again holds
the attention to every element and step in the process, till the whole is fixed in the memory.
The infant repeats all its lessons as fast as it learns them, because it rejoices over its acqui-
sitions.
5. The associating power unites what observation notices. So few are the combinations
which it has made as yet, and so closely were they connected by the original act which first
bound them together, that the one cannot be perceived or thought of without its companion.
N5t only, then, are the objects with which the infant has to do, few in the comparison, and
therefore constantly before the mind, but the associations by which they are connected will
g 148. THE ACQUIRED SENSE-PEECEPTIONS. 175
tend constantly to reproduce themselves. If, for example, an infant has observed that what ia
a shaded disc to the eye, is a spherical surface to the hand, the shaded disc will always remind
it of the spherical surface. It cannot see the one without thinking of the other.
6. The resemblances which the infant apprehends are few, and discerned with little effort.
It might better be said that similar objects are at first recognized as the same, rather than dis«
cerned as similar. Hence the inductions of the infant ere at first simple acts of spontaneous
memory, rather than beliefs founded on similar instances. The infant, in observing objects that
jvrc alike, whether within or without its own body, seems quite as much to be repeating its own
past experience, as performing acts and viewing objects that are like those with which it haa
before been occupied.
In induction proper, the similarities are remote — not obvious, not directly discerned, but
indirectly surmised ; the data themselves are the results of previous research and reflection,
instead of being forced upon the attention.
*J. The infant cares for the result, and, in its eagerness to reach it, slights or disregards the
means. What it finds to be true, occupies its attention, and not the evidence or data by
which it finds it. Tor example : if it judges that an object is spherical, all its attention and
interest are expended upon the question, What is the shape ? and none at all upon whether
it is by the shaded disc, or some other medium, that its shape is ascertained. So, too,
if the question comes up, What is that which I see — is it a man or a child, a house or a barn,
a long stretch of road or an upright triangular plane? or, How far off? how large? etc.,
etc. — the mind is wholly intent upon the answers, and does not dwell at all upon the grounds
on which it judges, as to what it is, or how large, or how far distant. It takes, and acts upon
the result, without a thought of the process by which it was reached.
This habit is furthered by the entire inaptitude of the infant to reflect on its own subjec-
tive processes, and to analyze them into their elements. The infant is, as we say, unconscious
of what it does ; it does not reflect on the steps by which it proceeds t<5 a conclusion ; that
of which it is the least aware is the ground of its belief or knowledge. It judges and rea-
sons on appropriate evidence, and with sufficient grounds, but often it is aware only that it
is certain that something is true, and not at all conscious of the grounds on which it became
certain. It exercises its powers without reflecting upon them, or knowing that it performs
a process at all.
8. The freshness and energy of the activity of the human soul in the earliest periods of
its life continually surprise and astonish us. The activities of the intellect, the freshness of
interest, the energy of will, the eagerness of the desires, the variety of the experiments upon
itself, upon nature, and man, are always occasions of interest and surprise to older persons
whose powers are torpid or overwrought, and whose curiosity is partially sated.
Whatever objections may be urged against the possibility that acqui-
sitions like these should be made in infancy and early life, are satisfactorily
met by the unquestioned fact, that the infant is constantly making experi-
ments and falling into errors in this very sphere of induction and acquired
knowledge. It makes awkward attempts to grasp, to reach, to stand, and
to walk ; it misjudges in respect to the distance, form, and size, and nature
of objects beyond its reach ; it is taught by experience, and it applies the
lessons which experience imparts, whether painful or pleasant. It is never
so busy as in the earliest years of its life. All this while it is chiefly occu-
pied with experiments upon the material world and its own bodily powers,
all its energy being employed in the very direction, and being busied wit!)
the very objects, with which the acquired perceptions are concerned.
176 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §149.
It ought also to be remembered that, during the same period, it makes
the surprising acquisition of language ; always of the mother-tongue, and,
if circumstances favor, of one or two languages more. To acquire a new
language so as to speak it well, costs an adult, whose powers are well-dis-
ciplined, many months, if not years of labor. With how much greater
ease, rapidity, and perfection, is the same task achieved by the infant!
Surely it is not so surprising that at an age as early, or even earlier, it
should master the acquired perceptions. That it does not remember the
processes through which it has gone, proves nothing concerning the ques-
tion whether they were in fact gone over. We do not remember one of
the thousand processes through which we must have passed in learning
to talk. And yet the thought or the want suggests the word, which
rushes to the tongue as if by instinct or inspiration ; just as we judge
of properties, size, and distance, without reflecting that we judge.
§ 149. It might be urged in objection still further, that there
Objections from ? . _ ' ■ _ .,. . ' X
the case of ani- is no evidence that animals acquire any perceptions. On the
contrary, observation shows decisively that they perceive
directly the distance, size, and properties of the objects with which they are
concerned. The chicken, with the young of certain birds, strikes its beak
with precision and success at the food brought within its reach, even be-
fore it is released from the shell. The young of the partridge and the
grouse run swiftly through the stubble, avoiding projecting objects as if
with practised skill. The young of quadrupeds run and leap with no pre-
vious discipline or training. In view of these facts, it is confidently urged
that, if these animals are taught by instinct to perceive correctly, it is not
to be supposed that man would be left to the slow and uncertain processes
of feeling his way along to certain belief. Surely Nature would do as
much for its noblest work, as for the inferior species. See Adam Smith,
Essays of the External Senses ; Sir William Hamilton, Met. Zee, 28 ;
J. K. Abbot, Sight and Touch, c. xi. ; S. Bailey, Review of BerJceley^s
Theory, c. v. sec. 1.
To this objection is to be opposed the indisputable fact, that the human
species is trained to feel its way on to matured and trustworthy acqui-
sitions. The reason why, is obvious. The animal has not the capacity
to judge by signs, to that extent and with that discrimination which would
qualify it to build up the power of perception. This deficiency is supple-
mented by instinct, about which we know but little, but know enough to
be certain that it effects by blind and unintelligent impulse what reason
discerns and performs of itself.
Man is indeed furnished with instincts, so far as he needs them, to impel and direct his
movements, before his intellect is developed, or with respect to objects of which the intellect
takes no cognizance. Instinct is a blind, unconscious force ; it is not knowledge. An instinct
cannot discern color or hear a sound ; much less can it by the eye discern extension, or out.
ness, or shape, or size. These are discerned by acts of knowledge, and it is for the philoso-
§149. THE ACQTTIRED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 177
pher to decide how much of this knowledge is gained by direct and intuitive perception, and
how much by judgment. That question can only be answered by the observation of fact!
within the range of human experience, and by analogy, when the phenomena are removed
from direct inspection, or have escaped our memory.
Some facts are observed in infants which are supposed to be inconsistent with these con-
clusions, and to prove decisively that the infant, as well as the animal, has some so-called
' instinctive perception ' of distance. Thus, for example, Adam Smith reasons : "A child that
is scarcely a month old, stretches out its hands to feel any little plaything that is presented
toward it." It is more than possible that in infancy the eye cannot be excited by a visible
object, especially if the object gives pleasure, without a consentient movement of the hands,
and of both hands and eyes, in the same direction. That some provision should be made for
such a conspiring movement or impulse to motion of two members of the body that perform
many functions in common, may be received as probable, and believed to be true. But this
would not prove that the eye, in the proper sense of the term, discerns distance. All the move-
ments with both hand and eye show that this is judged or inferred by indications or signs.
Reasons why the Important reasons suggest themselves, however, why the
perceptions of . , . . ,, .-■,,,,-. i ' -,
animals and of animal is taught and impelled by instinct to do at once, and
man should dif- . . ° *, ■ J .'
fer. with little exposure to failure, what man can only attam by
slow and painful acquisition, and at the risk of many failures and suffer-
ings. The discipline to which man is subjected has respect to his moral
culture as well as to his intellectual perfection and success. He needs to
learn patience, caution, foresight, self-distrust, and circumspection, as well
as the higher virtues. All of these are furthered by the processes through
which he must pass in gaining the acquired perceptions. It is by the
adaptation of this discipline to high moral uses, that is explained the law
of nature by which man is born the most ignorant and helpless of all the
animals, and forced, as it were, to make his acquisitions by his own
sagacity, as fast as he is impelled by the appetites, desires, and affections
which are evoked from his at first undeveloped soul.
We may conclude, then, that the processes of the acquired perceptions
are processes of induction, and that they involve the as yet unconsidered
powers of representation, with association, and judgment by signs or indi-
cations. In other words, in the very act of perception, usually considered
as the lowest and the most elementary of all the acts of the intellect,
there is required the agency of the intuitions and relations which point to,.
and are involved in the very highest capacities of intelligence. This is a
striking instance of the principle enounced at the outset, that no faculty
of the intellect can act apart from the rest. We have found that, in the
very lowest of all, the rudimentary action of the very highest must be
present, in order that the act may be human and rational.
12
178 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 150.
CHAPTER VL
DEVELOPMENT AND GEOWTH OF SENSE-PEKCEPTION.
We have considered what is essential to sense-perception as an original act of the soul, and
how it *is that the soul acquires the power and skill to use one perception in place of
another. The first of these powers is an original endowment ; the second is a developed
capacity. The examples of the development of this power which we have considered all
occur under our direct observation. Experience is a decisive witness that the ability to
make these combinations is acquired by every human being, by processes which we can
more or less distinctly analyze. The exercise of this power involves all the constituents
of induction.
8 150. We propose next to treat of the acquisitions which
Nature, interest, x i_.
and difficulty of are made beiore we can observe so as to remember ; %. e., to
trace the growth and development of the sense-perceptions
in earliest infancy. We take our guidance from what we have observed
of those processes which we are certain that we acquire, and, going back
to that period of which memory brings no report, we ask, From what
beginnings, in what order, and by what steps does the infant mind develop
and mature the power of sense-perception of which it finds itself in pos-
session, when it awakes to distinct and remembered consciousness ?
The problem is full of interest. It seems like a proposal to revive the
experience of our earliest years, to restore, as it were, the forgotten past
of our lives — the period when our curiosity was eager, our energy un-
abated, our hopes were boundless, and the universe was beckoning to us
to explore and enjoy its infinitude. There is a mystery about those
months and years which we would fain unravel, which tempts and tan-
talizes us because of its apparent darkness and obscurity. The difficulty
and apparent in super ableness of the problem incite and challenge us to
make the effort to follow the successive acts by which we ' build up the
being which we are.'
The difficulty which attends the effort arises from the fact that it is
impossible, by memory, to bring back a single fragment of our infant life.
We cannot penetrate the darkness and obscurity which overhang this
entire period of our existence. Could we revive but a single isolated por-
tion, one sole and separate act or state, when our perceptive power was
yet rudimental, it would give us a clue by which to thread our way back-
ward through this entangled maze, till we had reached the simple ele-
ments with which we began ; or, returning upon our steps, we could com
bine these elements in the order of their actual accretion and growth.
§151. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OF SENSE-PEECEPTIO N". 1V9
AVho can tell what a baby thinks ?
"Who can follow the gossamer links
By which the manikin feels his way
Out from the shore of the great unknown,
Blind, and wailing, and alone,
Into the light of day?
♦ ♦ * * ♦
What does he think of his mother's eyes ?
. "What does he think of his mother's hair ?
"What of the cradle-roof, that flies
Forward and backward through the air ?
"What does he think of his mother's breast —
Bare and beautiful, smooth and white-
Seeking it ever with fresh delight —
Cup of his life and couch of his rest ?
What does he think when her quick embrace
Presses his hand, and buries his face,
Deep where the heart-throbs sink and swell,
With a tenderness she ne'er can tell? etc.
J. G. Holland.— BiUer-Svjtet.
The problem per- 8 151. But the problem, though difficult, is not insolvable>
plexing to the ^ r , . . ,. , , . , .
imagination, but To the judgment only is it explicable, but not to the imagi-
tne intellect. nation. We can demonstrate what our infant life must have
been, but we cannot imagine how this infant life must have seemed. We
cannot expect to recall to the memory any actual experience of our own,
when all visible objects were depicted on an extended plane, without dis-
tance or depth. Nor can we, by imagination, feign such an experience.
The effort to do either must be fruitless. The new elements which we
have incorporated with our constant habitudes of perception and knowl-
edge we can never throw off. We cannot divest ourselves of the new
growth which has overgrown the original germ. We must not expect, by
any analysis, to restore the distinct experience of our infant perceptions,
any more than we can a second time make real and rational the feelings
of our infancy. No man can imagine himself to be a child, for the sim-
ple reason that in all things he must think and feel as a man.
To attempt to retrace and thus to reconstruct the processes of the earli-
est perceptions of childhood, is not irrational. We have at our command
the materials with which to prosecute our analysis and to construct our
synthesis. These are the known facts of experience and observation
within our conscious experience, the facts observed of infants and very
young children, and the probable conclusions which analogy warrants us
in deriving from both.
- . a The facts which are established by our own observation in
Data and J
grounds of infer- respect to the grounds and the processes of the perceptions
which we know to be acquired, the exposure to constant
mistakes in these perceptions, and the invalid plausibility of the objections
which may be urged against these demonstrated facts, are all pertinent,
and most of them decisive, when applied to the theories which we form
of infantile development. We are justified in applying to the unknown
I he explanations which reason forces us to accept in respect to the known-.
180 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 152,
All that we observe of the actions of infants and young children is entirely consist-
ent with the theory, that they develop the power of perception by many experiments and
many mistakes. Their experiments and errors can only be explained in consistency with this
view.
The known methods and laws of nature in the education of men and of animals give the
strongest confirmation to these conclusions. We rely with confidence upon the view that, s^
far as it is possible to account for the acquired perceptions by the theory of intelligent activity
rather than by that of blind instinct, so far we are bound to go. Where intelligent activity
cannot be presumed or proved, there instinct and intuition must be assumed.
Synthesis and combination, however, cannot account for every process or solve every
problem. There must be original elements with which to begin, or else there would be noth-
ing with which to combine, or which could be added when it was sought for. There must also
be capacities or powers of original knowledge, beyond or behind which we cannot go in our
analysis ; which capacities, indeed, give the elements which we evolve by analysis. Other-
wise the problem would be — given the power to know nothing by original activity, show how
every thing can be known by the simple force of combination or substitution, with nothing
to combine or substitute.
To this extreme the advocates of the associational psychology are continually driven in
their efforts to explain by a single law our knowledge and beliefs — our knowledge of time,
space, of the laws of matter and of spirit, of the very principles of induction, and of all
necessary truths, even the very powers and passions of the soul. They would generate ' insep-
arable associations ; ' but from uhat, they do not so satisfactorily show (§ 43).
The intellect and § 152# These things being premised, we observe: The first
se°n^e. emotion COI],dition m which the soul may be supposed to exist before
begins. the beginnings of conscious activity is nearly allied to that
of sleep undisturbed by dreams, or of extreme faintness, in which the
most indistinct and feeblest sensations possible are experienced, without
distinct perception. "In Schlafes Armen wird das Kind zur Welt gebo-
rm" (A. HelfFerich.) These states approach most nearly to what we
may suppose to be the elementary condition of the soul, with this differ-
ence, however, that we carry into the sleep and faintness of adult years
some dim and disturbing images from our waking consciousness. The
undeveloped condition of man is not chaotic in the sense of being con-
fused, disturbed, or bewildered ; it is rather in that vague and low con-
dition of sense-perception which comes from the activity of those mus-
cular and vital sensations which belong to the processes of the animal life.
These sensations, when closely attended to in later knowledge, are at best
but vaguely and indefinitely conceived ; and when they fill up the whole
world of our conscious life, they must be obscure indeed. The activities
to which these sensations excite are the result of the reflex actions of
the nervous organism, and of those vital and animal instincts which are
as blind and unintelligent.
The be ■ nin s From this condition the soul is aroused when it begins to
nfent o^lfteSl attend either to its sensational condition, or to the responsive
tion- perceptional act. The soul scarcely can be said to have sen-
sations even, till it is conscious of some sharp or positive experience of
§153. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OF SENSE-PEECEPTION. 18]
pain or pleasure. Much less can it be said to perceive, till its attention is
aroused, repeated, and fixed upon some single sensible percept.
We are not to suppose that the attention, in either of these directions, is developed at &
single bound, or that its energy is attained by one spasm of effort ; nor that the soul maintains
itself always in the attent condition which it at first oeasionally attains. All analogies from
the states of our mature experience would lead us to believe that the soul now rises into a mo-
ment's fixed attention, and then sinks again to blank inanition. Again, it is roused a second
time by some earnest and intruding solicitation, attends for an instant, and relapses a second
time into the merely instinctive life.
Nor, again, are we to believe that the attention can only be aroused or occupied by a
single sense at once, or that, consequently, it is by successive energizings of each sense and
each object taken one by one, that the several powers of sense-perception are distinctly devel-
oped and matured. On the other hand, it is far more rational to believe that contrast stimu-
lates attention, and that attention is truly and eminently discrimination, holding the mind to
one object as necessary to distinguish it from another, and sending it back to the second object
from which it was distinguished, by reaction from the very effort with which it gave itself to
the first.
This view of attention is conformed entirely to the law of its movements within our expe-
rience, and it makes it much easier to comprehend how the several senses may be developed
together, and how the objects appropriate to each may readily blend into one.
8 153. The sense-perceptions which are first developed are
Muscular and ° , * . - x . , > x
vital perceptions doubtless tne muscular and vital. If, however, we perceive
first developed. . ^ « ••■ - i •
only so far as we attend, it may be doubtful whether we
ought to call them sense-perceptions till they are connected with those per-
ceptions which are more positive and objective, as the perceptions of sight
and touch, by connection with which they render their most important ser-
vice as perceptions.
We should expect, for certain reasons, that the three senses
anTSSeii taste' °^ nearm&> taste, and smell, would spring into activity next
in order, as being nearest akin to the first and as requiring
a less persistent and a less intellectual effort. Observation does not,
however, confirm these anticipations. The sense of hearing is used, in
some feeble degree, a few days after birth, scarcely in such a manner or
degree as to be called attentive or discriminating. The sense of taste is
still later. At first, the infant swallows medicine as readily as milk. It
is not till some four weeks have elapsed that it distinguishes the one
from the other. Later still is exercised the sense of smell. Kussmaul
says taste and smell are active from the first. Hearing only is feebly
developed. Hearing remains the longest, as death comes on.
These facts, furnished by observation, when regarded from another point of view seem
less surprising. These sense-perceptions of themselves are of little service. They can be
applied to no use, either of science or curiosity, till they are connected with the objects which
excite them, and indicate some property or relation. It is consistent with the economy
of nature that they should not be called into action till the time of their useful activity has
2ome. Till then, the capacity for their exercise is simply dormant and undeveloped. (Cf.
182 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §155.
Loebisch, Die Seele des Kindes in ihren Entwickelungen, 2 Aufl., Wien, 1854 ; also Kussmaul,
Untersuchungen uber das Seelenleben des neugeborenen Menschen, Leipzig, 1859.)
8 154. It is with the eye and the hand that the soul begins
The eye and the " „ .. ■.■ • %,
land: which nxedly to attend, and, 01 course, effectively to perceive. But
with which does it first begin — with the eye, or with the
hand ? It is impossible to answer. Perhaps it were safer and more exact
to say that it begins with neither alone, but with both — L e., each aids the
other, till, by the help of both combined, the mind reaches the distinct
perception of external and spatial objects.
We begin with the hand, and the sense of touch as the sense of
which no human being can possibly be deprived. Whatever may be true
of the eye, we are certain that intelligent perception by touch must be
acquired very early.
To the blind, these perceptions must always take the place of the perceptions of sight.
To the blind, they must give the perceptions of the world of matter as separate from and
external to the animated body, as also the various relations of extension and space. If it be
supposed that touch is normally developed before sight begins to be matured, then every
human being must learn to perceive for a while as though he were blind. He must learn to
combine the acquired perceptions, as a blind man always does. When sight awakes, it is sim-
ply to aid and facilitate the process, by giving it greater rapidity and precision.
We begin, then, with touch. Our problem is, to show how,
nlehangd.a with ^y touch, we acquire the perception of extension and of out-
ness or externality — by which we mean separableness from
the body ; or the not-body. We have before assumed that, by original
perception, we do through each of the senses distinguish the body from
the spirit, and also know the sense-percept itself as spatial. These rela-
tions being given to touch as an original power, it remains for us to ask
how we learn by touch to separate the not-body from the body, and how
we learn the relations of this not-body to space. It is to be remem-
bered, that what we know by original perception is that non-ego, which is
distinguished from the sentient ego, or the ego which animates the senso-
rium. We are now to inquire into the process by which the knowledge
of the non-ego as the not-body, is attained.
8 155. First : We acquire the knowledge of the not-bodv by
Extra- organic ° . , - x «,,
non-ego; how contrasting the muscular and tactual perceptions. The mus-
T)GrCGlVG(i
cular and tactual perceptions we suppose to be familiarly
known. By means of the distinguished muscular sensations we perceive
the interior of the body which the spirit inhabits and controls. We
know its interior parts through the vague but real sensations which are
experienced in the use of the various muscles and the action of the sev-
eral vital organs. But as yet we know no exterior world. Even when
we touch what are afterwards discovered to be material objects, we have
only the tactual perceptions which ensue on the application of the skin to
whatever the object may be. When the infant lays its hand on a flat and
§ 155. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OF SENSE-PEECEPTIOX. 183
smooth surface, it perceives a portion of its own body in a given state of
activity. If the surface is triangular, a corresponding portion of the sur-
face is similarly excited, and so on. As the muscular sensations give ua
the knowledge of the interior space that the sensorium occupies, so the
tactual sensations give the knowledge of its bounding or limiting enclo-
sure. We discover this limit by impinging it in every part upon sur-
rounding objects, and thus exciting it to sentient activity. In the warm
surroundings of a bath, or the bed, or a heated apartment, the surface of
the body is denned by a gentle glow. If the temperature is cool, the
same surface is made known to the soul by a rough and comfortless chill,
that creeps over and pinches the sensitive wrapping.
Combination of Second : The muscular and tactual perceptions being famil«
Sctuaiar ercT- iarty known and sharply distinguished, with the spatial rela-
tions- tion of the interior of the body which they involve, the
experimenter begins to combine the two in novel applications. One hand
is placed on another, or on the arm, or on the face, or any part of the
body. A new perception is the consequence ; the muscular sensations
beneath the surface touching and the surface touched are the same as
before. Each touching surface, taken apart, is affected as before when
brought in contact with a material object ; but in each touching surface
there is added the perception of touching and of being touched.
The sense-perception which is experienced on touching a table is clearly distinguished
from that which is given when one's arm or hand is touched. This perception is more or less
vivid and acute as greater or less pressure is applied. By noticing this distinction, the soul
takes its first lesson in learning to distinguish its own body from that which is not its own
body. It places its first uncertain step upon the frail and swaying bridge that spans the gulf
which divides the material universe into two portions — the animated body, and that which is
beyond. Its own body is known by the positive experience of muscular sensations which it
gives, limited by tactual sensations at its periphery. Moreover, when it is touched by the
hand, a special form of tactual sensation is experienced. The absence of these muscular
sense-perceptions, when touched, distinguish a certain class of objects as diverse from all those
which have them. This is the distinguishing mark of extra-corporeal objects. It is not, how-
ever, enough that objects are distinguished as extra-corporeal. They must be also known as
diverse in space — i. e., they must be known as extended, and thereby involving a space which
is beyond or without the body. This suggests the third acquisition.
Objects corporeal and extra-corporeal can be grasped by the
of the extra-or- hand, and in this way can be known as occupying space.
ganic ; how ac- .^ . " . . ,
quired. When a blind man grasps his own arm or wrist, he knowTs
certain muscular sensations as extended through and posited in the space
within the opposite surfaces that he touches. If his wrist is withdrawn
from the enclosing grasp, and an extra-corporeal object is inserted in its
place, the adjustments of the grasping hand are the same as before, the
dim knowledge of the space which these adjustments involve is also the
same. All is the same, only there is no direct perception by the sensa-
tions located within the wrist. The stick is felt by tactual perception in
184 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §155.
all its directions of surface. So far as any knowledge of surface by con-
tact is concerned, it is in both cases the same. The wrist is known by
direct perception as space-filling. The enclosing hand is a measure of the
space enclosed. The same enclosing or grasping hand measures the sur-
face of another body, but this body yields no muscular percepts involving
extension. It occupies, however, precisely the space which the other
filled. It is known, therefore, as space-filling, and as filling other space
than that of the body. The mind has made the acquaintance of extra-
corporeal objects as extended in space, and it has made it on the au-
thority of touch alone.
In this way is it possible for the mind, by touch alone, to reach the extra-corporeal world,
and to know that all its objects, like the body with which it is directly connected, occupy
space. By the motion of its own limbs, known and judged by muscular sensations, it soon
learns direction in space. By the comparison of its direct experience of the interior of the
body as revealed by muscular perceptions, and of the exterior as revealed by the tactual, it
learns the difference between the outside and inside of its own body, and of any material
object. By the repeated application of any portion of the surface of the body as a measuring
unit, it learns size. After it has learned what a single step signifies, by repeating the number
of steps which must be taken to reach an object that is remote, it learns distance. By study-
ing closely the other indications which touch reveals, it masters all the variety of knowledge
of material things which the combinations of touch can reveal. The processes of the blind
are slowly and painfully performed, but they are shut up to make the most of them by the
necessities of their condition.
These processes are all acquired, and that which is acquired in them all is the single
power to use one percept as the sign of another, or of some relation which is indicated by the
percept as its invariable attendant — e. <?., outness, extension, direction, distance, size, and the
like.
The theory of sense-perception, taught in this volume, coincides with the theories of
Hamilton's the- John Muller and Sir William Hamilton, so far as they agree, viz., that we have a direct
ory ot the per- or intuitive perception of the extended organism, and an indirect or acquired perception
extra-organic. °f extra-organic matter. Muller explains the last process, substantially as we have
done, though with less detail. Hamilton explains it thus : " The existence of an extra-
organic world is apprehended * * * in the consciousness that our locomotive energy is resisted, and not
resisted by aught in our organism itself. For in the consciousness of being thus resisted is involved as a
correlative, the consciousness of a resisting something." Appendix to Works of Reid, Note D*, 28; cf. 20,
23, 24, 25, 26 ; cf. 864, Note D.
This explanation of the process supposes the application of the relation of causation. For it repre-
sents the locomotive energy as a causative energy which, unresisted, would produce certain effects, which
effects are overborne or set aside by an agent which is known to be not the ego or the organism with which
the ego is connected. From the presence of this new and strange effect, the existence of an extra-organic
agent is inferred. The theory is in principle the same with that of Dr. Thomas Brown, which we have
already noticed (§ 130), with this difference, that Brown supposes the cause and its activities to be both
spiritual and non-extended, while Hamilton supposes the locomotive energy to be known directly as
extended. The validity of the inference supposed to be derived, depends on the perception of a differing
event in each of the two cases, and on the apprehension of each as an effect requiring a cause for its
explanation. The first of these will not be denied. The second is not so obvious and certain. To this is
essential that the locomotive energy as a causal energy should be regarded as capable of an effect, and this
effect must be known as intra-organic. If the locomotive energy is connected with this effect as its cause,
it must be by the design to produce this effect, which designed effect is not reached. This would require a
higher development of the reflective consciousness, than can be supposed at the early period when the
infant apprehends the extra-organic, or the non-ego. It seems more rational to account for it as we have
done, by the presence and absence of certain tactual and muscular sense-perceptions. "When the reflective
consciousness has been developed and the relation of causation is familiarly handled by the mind, thia
process would confirm and make definite our belief of extra-organic beings and agents.
§ 156. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OP SEXSE-PEECEPTI02J. 185
A more serious difficulty is involved in Hamilton's theory — the same, indeed, which in another "way it
fatal to that of Brown (cf. § 131), viz., it seems not to explain how in the necessity of finding for this effect
an extra-organic cause, this " correlative" " resisting something" must be shown to be also extended. The
agent, the ego, as a percipient and actor is not extended, why may not the extra-organic agent and non-eg
be non-extended, or why must it be extended? How is it shown to be correlative so far as to be extended^
except it is taken to be the analogon of the extended organism, i. e., like it in being spatial in many
percepts, etc., etc., but unlike it in certain other sense-percepts, as we have explained.
With the eye § 150* ^et' now> tne eye ^e opened, after all the acquisitions
be°inser pr°blem nave Deen made which are possible to touch, and another
duty would be imposed, viz., the duty of connecting the per-
ceptions of the eye with those appropriate to the hand. This duty is, in
fact, performed by every person born blind, to whom sight is given in
later years. In the developments of infancy, the eye performs a service
similar to that which it renders in the acquisitions made by the blind in
mature life ; with this difference, that the eye does not wait to furnish its
aid till the hand has done all that it can possibly accomplish without it.
When the eye and the hand are developed together, by their mutual aid
they greatly shorten the processes of acquisition, and of making the
results more sure. What each can do apart, we have already considered.
It is fair to infer that in the processes by which infancy makes its acqui-
sitions, that what each can do best it will perform for the other. If the
touch gives the first distinct knowledge of the third dimension of space,
it places this knowledge at the service of the eye. The eye, if it cannot
dfcectly discern distance, can yet observe and interpret the signs of dis-
tance. The hand can determine the relative distances of objects only
within its reach ; or »it must measure off distance by counting its steps,
carrying the body as it goes. But the eye can, by a glance, reach for rods
and furlongs and miles, and measure with sufficient accuracy for the com-
mon occasions of life. In respect to direction, how helpless is the hand
without the eye. If we hold a ring with one hand, and, with closed eyes,
seek to thrust a stick through it by a single effort, we can do it with little
precision. Even the blind must be cautious and slow in the movement,
and uncertain of the result. But the eye fixes its gaze on the object, and
directs the practised muscles to strike the mark with the nicest precision.
By the eye, the muscles can be adjusted to sling a stone, to hurl a lance,
to aim the rifle even at moving objects, and to strike these objects with
marvellous accuracy. All these feats would be impossible without the
eye. They are accomplished with the aid of the eye only as the muscles
are so adjusted, by means of the sensations which indicate their position,
as to signify that through these adjustments the mark can be reached on
which the eye is fixed.
That the eye and the hand must conspire in infancy, is not only
uponlnfants10118 ^'d^J ^° ^e inferred, but it is evident from observation of the
experiments which the infant is continually making with both.
First : it is evident that the infant learns to touch ; by which we mean not merely that i*
186 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 157
'earns to use its hands, but that it learns to use them with intelligence, and to interpret its
touch-perceptions. Second : it is equally evident that it learns not only to use its eyes in see-
ing, and to judge Avhat its sight-perceptions signify, but also to combine its sight and touch-
perceptions together, and makes the one to serve as the signs of the other.
As the eye of the infant rolls or rests in the socket, or is caught for an instant by the
excitement of the stimulating light, so the hands and arms, at first, hang uselessly from the
shoulders, or dangle hither and thither, resting on whatever may sustain them. They can
neither grasp nor hold, much less can they be carried to a point on which desire fixes the eye;
nor can they, in obedience to desire, hold and carry an object, as food to the mouth, or release
it when it is brought to its destined place. All these uses of the hand must be learned by
attention. That they are learned, is evident from the aimless use of the hands at first, from
the many experiments, and failures, and final successes which follow, and from the gratification
that is manifested at success.
The earliest objects which attract the persistent attention of the infant's eye are the
hands. As these are to be the instruments of its activity and the arbiters of its earthly des-
tiny, it is natural and appropriate that they should occupy the largest share of its earliest
notice. It is impossible that it should be otherwise for two or three reasons. They are
always before its eyes, ever flitting to and fro in aimless and convulsive movements, and chal-
lenging its notice as they are passing across its limited field of vision. As if to concentrate
the whole energy of the attention upon the action of the hands, the infant is short-sighted,
and, till it is four months old, observes only the nearest objects, and then objects somewhat
more remote, till, by gradual advances, the whole spectacle of the universe is unveiled and
opened to the view. Cf. Loebisch, p. 28.
§ 157. But before we can connect the percepts of touch with
?ision°pment °f tnose °f sight, we must trace for a while the development
of the eye. Vision seems to begin at that early period when
the bright and steady light attracts and holds the infant's eye, or when, as
it moves, it carries the eye with itself wherever it leads. Certain objects
that glisten with reflected rays, or that are brilliant with intense color, are
soon separated from the background of undistinguished things against
which they are projected, or athwart which they are moved. It is not
easy to decide how much of intellectual perception attends this early mov-
ing and fixing of the eyes, and how much is an unconscious and reflex
response of the nervous organism to the stimulating light. The eye is so
constructed that only a single portion of the retina can give a perfect
image of an object that comes within the field of view ; so that, when a
bright object comes before the eye at all, it will hold or draw the eye to
or after it, by the reflex action of the nerves which its brightness excites.
Whenever the mind perceives such an object as a distinct and definite per-
cept, then vision begins. Such a percept, as has already been explained, is
known as a non-e^o, and is known to be extended in two dimensions.
We have already given the reasons why, in the beginnings of vision, the
percept should not be placed in the retina or the eye (§ 135).
It remains for us to show why, at the moment when this place comes to be
Why percepts of fixed, it should be projected in space. With this projection of visible objects
iectedinTpace0" afr°nt °f tne eye» begins its development, or education of the sense of vision,
if this location is acquired, and not intuitive. It is not easy to explain the
§157. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OP SENSE-PERCEPTION. 187
steps of the process, or the grounds why its percepts are carried forward into space, and nol
located in the eye itself. Some contend that no explanation can be given, because none is
required ; that there is no problem, because there is no process, it being, in their view, by an
ordinance of nature that the object seen should first be seen at the eye's focal distance for-
ward, and that here is fixed the original starting-point from which all the acquired judgments
of distance proceed. They insist that all objects, as viewed by the act of original vision, are
seen. in a hollow sphere — forward, above, below, on this side and that — whose radius is this focal
distance. Cf. Thorndale, etc., by William Smith, pp. 441, 442. Such must of necessity hdld
that the act of projection is original, and not in any sense acquired.
Those who hold that it is acquired, give various explanations of the process. The most
plausible is the following : The eye, though, like the hand, it is moved by muscles which are
directed by the aid of the appropriate sensations, does not, when in its normal or healthy state,
give any tactual sensations by the felt contact of its surface with the objects which affect it,
nor do the muscular sensations themselves attract the attention. There are no positive expe-
riences either of muscular or tactual sense-perceptions which should fix the visible object at
the base or on the surface of the eye. These objects excite the idiopathic sensations of color,
as the objects of taste excite theirs on the tongue, but without the sensations of contact and
of muscular action, such as the tongue as a touching organ invariably gives.
We assume, before these experiments begin, that the eye possesses a native
Most plausible notion of space, which has become more or less distinct and familiar by the
explanation. mind's experience of the trinal extension of the sensorium, We may
assume, moreover, that in the way already explained (§ 155 ), space and
spatial objects external to the body have become familiar through the sense of touch and the
use of the hand ; in other words, that space has been prolonged or projected beyond those
limits which the experience of contact has drawn around the sensorium.
At the surface of the eye such tactual experiences are wanting, and of course no such
limits can be defined. So soon as the lids are raised and the experiences of color are made,
the eye gropes after these strange objects, but cannot touch them. It reaches after them, as it
were, but they are beyond its reach. But still they exist. If they draw near, while the eye
regards them, they fill more of its field of view ; if they withdraw, they occupy a less exten-
sive plane. Meanwhile, as they draw near or remove, the eye is adjusted to perfect vision,
and its adjustments and motions are known by changing sensations ; but still the objects can-
not be touched, nor can they be reached. By all these criteria, visible percepts are strikingly
contrasted with those which are tangible — they exist ; they cannot be touched by the eye, nor
can the eye reach them. They are in space somewhere without the body. This somewhere
is definitely fixed as soon as the object seen, coincides with the object which is touched. The
where Of its percept, after which the eye inquires, is answered as sooi#as the hand touches the
object seen. The limited distance which is measured by the sensations proper to the extended
hand, becomes fixed and clear, and the object held by the hand and gazed at by the eye is dis-
tinctly projected in space. Henceforward the eye and the hand go together beyond the limited
range which is at first allotted to them, into the unexplored infinitude that awaits their labors.
u Wir schieben die auf unseren Augen liegende Hohlkugel fast im eigentlichen Sinne des
Wortes mit den Htinden von uns forty M. J. Schleiden, Zur Theorie des Erkenncns durch
den Gesichtssinn, p. 41.
Then comes the power to set up a field of vision. First, the mind must construct certain
definite objects of vision out of the bewildering multitude of colors and outlines which present
themselves to the unpractised eye. Next, it must select a few of these objects for its observa-
tion at a single look. These it must place in a plane more or less distant, leaving out of dis-
tinct vision objects near and remote, estimating distance and judging size in the ways already
explained. These acts and judgments of the quick and sensitive eye, aided by the slower and
cooler hand, must be repeated again and again, till any required field of vision can be selected
nd constructed with ease and precision, so that we seem to see space, distance, and dim en-
188 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §158
pi on by the simple glance of the eye. These space relations, when once learned, are so few,
so simple, so easily indicated, and so completely established, that they seem never to have
been learned at all. They become entwined in all our associations ; they leap at once to the
imagination ; they preoccupy it so completely as to shut out the possibility of the opposite ;
their suggestions are accepted by the intellect with a rapidity that often leads to illusion and
error. Hence is it that all the so-called subjective sensations are at once projected into space
Hence, when the veins of the retina themselves become the objects of vision, they are seen
afront of the eye, a dark arborescence projected on an illuminated background. Hence, when
we look into a mirror, either natural or artificial, we see all its reflected objects in the depths
of space. Hence the spectra of the imagination, the visions which haunt the phantasy of the
diseased and insane, are all distributed in space.
Returning to the sense of touch, we observe that :
The connection 8 158. The first acquisition of sight and touch is to connect
of the hands as .. ^
seen and the the hands as seen with the hands as directly felt and man-
hands as touch- _.. ,, . . -»-./> ,..
ed. aged through the muscular sensations. Before this is pos-
sible, the hands as seen must become familiar as definite and separated
objects, with forms that are easily recognized. The muscular sensations
must also have become definite and distinct to the attentive intellect.
Another touch-perception should not be overlooked: — that is, the
tactual sensations must also have been familiarly observed, definitely dis-
tinguished, and so far connected with the muscular and internal, in the
way already explained, as to enable the infant to know that its hands are a
part of its own body, as well as to distinguish its body from other mate-
rial objects. This knowledge being given, the mind must learn to connect
the hands as seen, with the hands as moved and touched. To unite these
two percepts is one of the first and most important of the acquired per-
ceptions which the infant masters. How this can be effected, seems not
difficult to explain. It should be considered, for the reasons already given,
that these three classes of objects are the only objects with which the
infant is conversant. These occupy its sole attention. They constitute
and complete its universe. Two of these coincide in place. All these
coincide in time. *They all occur together. How can the seen hand be
connected with the hand that is touched and moved ? We answer — just
as soon as the mind can raise this question, or just as fast as it can have
the knowledge of the relations of place and distance with which it is con-
cerned, just so soon is it qualified to know that the object seen is in the
same place with the hand that is moved and handled.
Let one hand lie upon another, or let the hand rest upon a material object that does not
belong to its body. The eye watches the process, and as the hand holds the surface with its
sentient touch, so the eye holds it with its gaze ; it observes that what was still, is now in
motion ; that what was seen, is now covered, and by the interposing hand. Or, if the process
be described in terms taken from the language of vision only, one patch of color or shade or
light is obscured by another which moves before it and hides it from the view. Or, one is
moved behind another, and is hidden from sight. In this way the two percepts coincide in
dace, and one is made the sign of the other ; when one is seen, it is expected that the other will
§ 159. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 189
be felt ; when one is felt, the mind expects that the other will be seen. As the mind proceeds
and masters the other relations of form, place, size, distance, etc., the import of either percept
as a sign of the other becomes to the same extent enlarged. It is a sign not only of the othei
as a percept simply, but of all the relations which it signifies.
The world of the ^ *s manifest that the explanation of the process by "which
w0eria aiof the ^e mfant learns to connect and unite the percepts of its
hand- hands, or of other parts of its body, applies equally well to
those acts by which it learns to connect the percepts of all material
objects, so as to view them as single things. That this power is acquired,
and neither innate nor connate, is obvious. That it is acquired by experi-
ment and observation, is equally clear. The world of the eye and the
world of the hand are at first diverse and apart. How to bring them
together, is the first problem of infancy. Upon this problem it tasks its
earliest powers. At last these two worlds rush together, coinciding so
completely that it seems inconceivable that they should ever have been
held apart.
But why, we often ask, if these two worlds were once separate, and were only united by
the slow processes of early experiment, why cannot we part them a second time ? Why can-
not we sometimes perceive by the eye alone, omitting all the inferences which we borrow from
touch ? The reason is, that what we learn so early, we cannot forget or leave unconsidered.
The facts are so important, so constantly used, they have been learned so long and have been*
used so often, that we cannot imagine a condition of existence in which we did not as yet
know them. We might as easily forget that we can count, or forget the alphabet, or forget!
our very selves, as to place ourselves in the condition in which we were before we united the
hand which we see, with the hand which we touch and move.
§ 159. But to proceed with our eager and impatient infant
otner acqiiisi- a^s soon as it has mastered the objects within its reach and
tions of infancy. J#
range, so that eye and hand are united as one, each helping
the other, it makes the hand aid the eye in respect to objects which it can-
not feel and handle. This it can do only by careful experiments, involving
many errors. Indeed, the infant scarcely judges by the eye of any object
which it cannot also handle and measure with its hands. Every thing else
is either unregarded and vaguely stared at, or it haunts the vision as some-
thing it cannot interpret. It is not till childhood is reached and thought
is developed, and the power of comparing and reasoning is consciously de-
veloped, that distant objects are cared for and judged of with intelligence
and confidence.
It is instructive to watch the timid yet adventurous experiments which an infant makes,
especially with its hands. First, it strikes about in aimless efforts, or makes a play for its eyes
with the half convulsive motions of its little fists. By a gradual progress it learns to reach
after the few objects which the eye has separated from the background — the infinite unknown
which lies beyond its reach and beyond its aims. Soon it endeavors to lay hold of objects
which the eye rests upon that are quite beyond its reach. It clutches after the distant lamp,
the fire-blaze, or the polished fire-iron. By slow but sure progress it masters the objects within
Its own apartment, and can apply its rude standards of size and distance to the objects within
190 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 160
the apartment, to the finite world which its four walls enclose. All beyond is infinitude. Diir
ing this time, as has been said, the infant is short-sighted, till many months of its life have
elapsed, with the express design that it should be forced to master all near objects before it
is tempted beyond.
If we would conceive how the world out of doors may appear to an infant brought ta
How the world *ne window, after it is somewhat familiar with the form, size, and relative positions of
appears to an in- the objects within, we may read what is told of Caspar Hauser, who is said to have been
far*" confined, till the age of seventeen, in a darkened apartment, without communication
with nature by the senses, or with man by language. The story, whether true or false,
meets the case. " I directed him," says his teacher, " to look out of the window, pointing to the wide and
extensive prospect of a beautiful landscape that presented itself in all the glory of summer, and asked him
whether what he saw was not very beautiful. He obeyed, but instantly drew back with visible horror,
exclaiming, 'ugly, ugly !' and then pointing to the white wall of his chamber, he said, 'there not ugly.'
Several years after, his friend asked him if he recalled the remembrance of the scene, and of his own feel-
ings, and he said : * "What I then saw was very ugly ; for when I looked at the window, it always appeared
to me as if a window-sbutter had been placed before my eyes, upon which a wall-painter had spattered the
contents of his different brushes, filled with white, blue, green, yellow, and red paint, all mingled together.
Single things, as I now see things, I could not at that time recognize and distinguish from each other.
That what I then saw were fields, hills, and houses ; that many things which at that time appeared much
larger were in reality much smaller, while many other things which appeared smaller were in reality
larger than other things, is a fact of which I was afterward convinced in the experience gained in my
walks.' He also said, 'that in the beginning, he could not distinguish between what was really round and
what was only painted as round or triangular. The men and horses represented on sheets of pictures
appeared to be precisely as men and horses carved on wood.' "—Caspar Hauser ; An Account, etc. (trans-
lated from the German), pp. 88, 89. 2d edition. Boston, 1833.
We need not pursue our synthesis further. We need not further
ask how the infant builds up the rest of its knowledge, or acquires its
infant skill. We need not ask how the infant learns to use its hands,
to grasp, to hold, and to handle a spoon, a fork, or a knife, or how it
learns to walk, or talk ; for all these processes can be explained by analo-
gous processes which occur within our recollection. Still less need we ask
how it learns to connect the percepts of smell, of taste, and of sound, with
their appropriate objects. These problems present no difficulty and re-
quire no solution.
We persistently ask why we cannot unravel some of these combinations which we make
m earliest infancy, and more than half discredit the assertion that we make them at all. We
forget that, in respect to analogous processes in later life, we cannot place ourselves at a point
behind them ; we cannot remember where we were, nor what we knew, before we had mas-
tered the skill to use them. It is the result which interests us, and which occupies the atten-
tion so as to impress the memory. The process does not impress us, because we do not watch
it ; therefore we forget it, or, rather, never recall it at all. The state in which we were, before
the sepet of interpreting one percept by another, is also left behind. Now that we can inter-
pret the indications aright, it seems to us that we always could. Hence we cannot imagine the
condition in which we did not know and could not understand that which we cannot cease to
know and interpret.
As to the question whether the mind, in earliest infancy, is competent to intelligent per-
ception at all, that has been fully discussed in answering a similar inquiry in regard to a some-
what later period (§ 148).
§ 160. The phenomena attendant upon the recovery of sight by persons who
birth, upon the had been blind from birth, have already been referred to as illustrating and
ajght.VOry °f establishing some of the positions advanced in the preceding chapter. They
deserve a separate and more particular notice.
§160. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OF SENSE-PEECEPTION. 191
Such persons are like infants in this respect, that they must learn to see — i. e., they must
go through all the processes of which the infant has experience. In doing this, they must use
and so bring to light the several stages or steps of which the processes are composed, as well
as the grounds or data of judgment on which the several acquisitions are founded. They
differ from infants in this respect, that their perceptions of touch are already perfected when
„hey begin to see ; while those of the infant are developed in connection with, and often by
the aid of the acquisitions of sight. The blind person has also a greater maturity of intellect,
and of course a higher capacity for performing the judgments and forming the habits which
are involved. They have the disadvantage, on the other hand, of being more occupied with
other objects, so that their attention is likely to he less concentrated upon this problem. Their
sensibilities are less quick and plastic than are those of infancy. The value of the recorded
observations depends greatly upon the intelligence and the honesty of the observer. The
patients cannot be supposed capable of analyzing their own processes. Those who observe
them, ought to be acquainted with the problems or questions to be solved, so as wisely to con-
duct their own inquiries and skilfully to apply the decisive tests, or experimenia cruris. In the
words of Diderot : " To prepare and question one born blind, would not have been unworthy
of the combined talents of Newton, Descartes, Leibnitz, and Locke." They need also to be
wary in their estimate of evidence, so as not to put leading questions, or to over or wrongly esti-
mate the answers of the patient.
The cases which are most easily accessible to the English reader — which are, indeed, the
most satisfactory and decisive of any on record — are those reported in the Philosophical Trans-
actions of the Royal Society of London for the years respectively, 1728, 1801, 1807, 1826, and
1841. The persons operated upon differed greatly in respect to age, mental capacity, and
the degree of their previous blindness. The observations and experiments with all of them
may be accepted as having established the following facts and truths :
The patients, as soon as they began to see, saw objects not only as colored, but as extended.
Their experiences give no countenance whatever to the views of Stewart and Brown, that color
can be perceived without extension, and that the two are united by inseparable association. It
is true that in almost every case the patients, previously to their recovery to sight, had some
experience of light, and of course of light superficially extended or diffused. But this expe-
rience of light was so obviously dependent upon the affection of the retina, as to indicate, if
not to prove, that any experience of light whatever involves the perception of extension.
The extension which they perceived by sight was in two dimensions only. This was made
evident from a few experiments instituted with express reference to this point in the case of
one of the most intelligent. A solid cube and a solid sphere were both taken by him to be
simply discs or planes. A solid cube and a flat projection of the same were both taken to be
flat and in every respect alike. A pyramid, when turned toward him so as to present one of
its sides only, was called a triangle. When the pyramid was turned so as to expose a part of
another side, he could not make out what it was.
As to distance from the eye or the place where objects are located in original perception,
the testimony is unanimous and decisive that objects at first seem very near — how near, could
not be exactly known — and that the relative distance of each object beyond this indeterminate
limit is learned by experience. Most of the patients were afraid to move, lest they should hit
against objects that were comparatively remote. Two or three of the patients, in attempting
to reach objects extended to them, clutched behind the objects when held near before them,
and when more remote, only succeeded in grasping them after repeated efforts. Cheselden's
boy said, at first, that all objects touched his eye. The boy reported by Sir Edward Home
(1807) said the sun and the candle touched his eye, even before the cataracts were removed ;
and, just after the first operation, said the head of the surgeon did the same. But after a
second operation, he said the sun and candle did not touch his eye. It is probable that the
objects which were said to touch the eyes, in these two cases, stimulated the eye so actively as
to present some analogy to the muscular sensations accompanying touch, with which, in every
192 THft HUMAN INTELLECT. § 161.
possible form, the patient was so familiar. Hence they interpreted and called these expe-
riences perceptions of touch.
All these persons were forced to learn by experience to combine the percepts of sight
with the familiar impressions of touch, so as to translate the one into the other. All expe-
rienced a difficulty similar to that of Cheselden's boy with the dog and cat. When they saw
objects a second time, and were not certain that they could recall them, they reached for them
with the hand, and could not be content till they had- handled them a second time. Their
judgments of size and form all needed to be acquired. Visible mathematical figures, its a
square, a circle, and rectangle, could not be recognized till the fingers were resorted to. One
patient did make out one or two of these figures, by drawing the outline with her finger in the
air, and, as it were, constructing the figure with the finger, after the lines presented to the eye.
Another could not understand how drawings of objects could represent the objects, till he
revived the percepts of the objects in his fingers. Most of them were embarrassed by draw-
ings and pictures, not being able to see likenesses or to understand perspective, or to perceive
that light and shade represented form and distance. Their judgments of the comparative size
of objects were embarrassing to them. Cheselden's boy knew that his own room was a part
of the house, but could not easily believe the house was so much larger than the apartment.
The testimony is uniform, also, that, in learning to see objects as separate things, the con-
structive power is brought into play, requiring intelligent attention and constant memory on
the part of the percipient, and that it is only slowly, at best, that the mind learns to set apart
its separated objects, to form its field of vision, to locate objects as near and remote by the
various signs which it learns to interpret. In short, these observations and experiments con-
firm and illustrate all that has been said in this chapter in respect to the early development
and growth of sense-perception.
CHAPTER VII.
THE PRODUCTS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION ; OR, THE PERCEPTION OF MATERIAL
THINGS.
Thus far we have considered sense-perception as a process, and in its growth. We proceed
next to discuss its results in those products which become the permanent possessions of
the mind. We have already explained of knowledge in general, that, as an activity of
the intellect, it is brought to its appropriate termination when its objects can, so to speak,
be detached from the process by which they were so matured as afterward to be retained,
recalled, and recognized. This is eminently true of this form of knowledge. Sense-per-
ception is only complete when it results in the knowledge of material things.
Material thin s § 161. A material thing or object as known by sense-percep.
and Bense-per- tion is a completed whole made up of separate percepts.
We distinguish the knowledge of things from the knowledge
of percepts. A percept, as has been explained, is the appropriate object
of the mind's knowledge through a single organ of sense. A thing is the
result of the mind's knowledge in apprehending several percepts as united
into a finished whole, with the relations which this combination involves.
As an example of the difference, take an apple. The apple seen, touched, srcellcd,
tasted, and heard, are separate percepts. The object perceived by the combination of all
§ 162. THE PRODUCTS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 193
these percepts is the apple, or material thing. The separate original perceptions give as manj
percepts. The original and acquired perceptions, when united as a whole, give material
objects or things.
Two questions now present themselves for consideration : By what means, and under wha*
relations, does the mind unite separate percepts into things or objects ? Under what con-
ditions does the mind so complete its knowledge of percepts and of things, as to be able to
-etain and recall them as permanent objects of knowledge ?
We begin with, the first of these questions : By what steps, and under
what relations, does the mind unite percepts into things or material
objects ? We answer :
By what reia- § 162* PercePts are united into things by two successive
ci01tl made Into stePs or stages, to each of which there is an appropriate
things i product. By the first, it unites these percepts into a mate-
rial thing, or whole, under the relations of space and time. By the
second, it connects the whole and its parts under the relation of substance
and attributive quality. These several percepts united in all these rela-
tions constitute what is commonly known as a material thing.
It has already been shown how the percepts of sight and the percepts
of touch are referred by the mind to the same portion of space. The seen
hand and the touched hand are found to lie in the same direction, and to
be at the same distance from any and every part of the body, from which
they are measured off by the eye. In the same way the apple or the egg,
the chair or the table, which are seen and touched, coincide in the same
portion of space. They are in the same place. By the same process the
body itself has been previously perceived to be one material thing.
This coincidence in place is the first of the constructive or synthetic
acts by which the mind, in sense-perception, forms to itself its perceptions
of objects. The percepts of sight and touch are the most prominent and
important. When these are united in one, the other percepts, as of smell,
taste, and sound, are readily attached. The object which we touch, we
also taste. We touch it when we taste it. The same object we touch and
smell. The sound which we hear when it is struck, or when it falls, is-
referred to it more indirectly by a process and under a relation which we
need not here explain (cf. § 166).
It is of course necessary that the percepts, thus definitely united in a common whole,
should be distinguished from the other percepts which are apprehended by the same sense..
Distinct and definite bounds of extension must be assigned to every percept, else they could
not coincide with one another under the same dimensions. When they are thus united, the
mind has perceived a material thing or object. The object perceived by the eye and the hand
fills or occupies, as we say, the same space, and so far it is one object or thing.
Other relations are afterward apprehended, under which these separate percepts stand to
one another, to the mind which perceives them, and to the physical organization by which
they are perceived. But the relation of a common extension is the first in the order of time,
and fundamental in the order of thought. The infant finds things when it fixes on a place for
its percepts of sight and touch. It knows material objects when it discovers that what it sees
and what it touches can be reached by its outstretched arm, or by a certain number of steps.
13
194 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §164.
8 163. The first stage of perception is complete when it
The first stage °. . . & r r. ^
of perception; gives a, material object, or whole, m this lower sense, viz., a
when complete. . . _,. D J, ...-,, . , „
combination of the percepts that are appropriate to each of
the organs of sense, by means of the relations of space and time. The
percepts of sight and touch are inseparably united in space, and this is the
earliest combination made by the intellect which may properly be called a
material thing. With these two are connected the percepts of taste,
smell, and sound, at first under the relation of simultaneous occurrence in
time.
It is obvious that the several percepts, when" viewed as connected into a whole under these
relations, have a very unequal relative importance. The percepts of sight and touch, to those
who can see and feel, as they are defined in place and eminently objective, constitute the mate-
rial object as it is usually conceived and named. The percepts of smell, sound, and taste, are
its invariable attendants in time, until they are connected with it by another relation.
To those who see, even though they can also feel, the leading percepts are those of sight.
The name of an object suggests its visible form and color, etc., rather than the object as
touched ; a certain and decisive evidence that it is the object as seen which is most prominent
and attractive to the mind, and therefore is most readily recalled to the imagination.
To the blind, on the other hand, it is the object as touched, or the tangible percept, which
is suggested by the name, and to his imagination constitutes the thing perceived.
The other percepts, as of taste, smell, and sound, are connected with the combined per-
cepts of touch and hearing less readily, and by a looser bond. As at first experienced, they
are referred to the sentient organism, and less readily separated from it. They are more sen-
sational and subjective, less perceptional and objective. As to the manner and the relations
by which they are first connected with the percepts of sight and touch, philosophers are not
agreed. It must at least be true, that whatever other relations unite them to material things,
they must at the very earliest period be their constant attendants in place and time.
However quickly the human intellect may learn to connect them with their objects under
higher and more intimate relations, it must first know them as constant attendants one of
another. When a given sound or smell or taste is perceived, it certainly connects it with the
seen or touched object with which it has been previously attended. Under these laws or rela-
tions the human intellect recalls one percept by another percept, or one object by one of its
percepts, even when it recalls them by higher relations. The animal intellect connects and
recalls objects and percepts by no other.
When, then, the human intellect has learned to connect its percepts in space and time, as
things or wholes, in the way explained, one stage or step in the process of perceiving material
things or products is complete, and one product is evolved, viz., several percepts coinciding in
space and time.
thin § -^' ^e concepti°n 0I> a material thing or whole, made up
capable of van- 0f extended parts or single percepts, is, however, very
tions. equivocal in its import and varied in its application. To an
infant with limited experience, the greater part of an apartment may be
perceived as a single object or thing; the only separable objects in it
being the chair, table, and a few utensils, the position of which is often
changed. To a child, a horse and carriage, seen together for the first
time, may be a whole, or a single object. The savage perceives a ship or
steamer to be a huge animal. Many observations and experiments, much
§165. THE PRODUCTS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 19?
information from others, repeated lessons inferred from words and names
properly applied, are required to enable the child to distinguish things aj
wholes and parts ; to hold apart objects that should not be united ; and tc
unite objects that should not be divided. The point of view from which
ybjects are observed, and the purpose or use to which they are to be ap-
plied, direct in the formation and application of names, and determine
whether this or that object shall be regarded as a whole or part of a thing.
A house with its grounds, the house alone, an apartment, a door, a win-
dow, the smallest perceived portion of either, each and all, are things or
parts of things, according to the principle or use which regulates the
application of the respective terms. But whether a perceived whole is
greater or smaller in its spatial dimensions, it must have defined spatial
dimensions and be capable of being perceived by one of the leading
senses, if it is perceived as a material thing. Whatever the thing may be,
the percepts of which it consists must at least be capable of being per-
ceived as occupying the same space, and of occurring together in time.
This, it should be observed, is a material or sense-object as perceived or as
Percepts recalled made ready for recall. When it is recalled, these parts, thus coincident in
of time relatlons space and time, can only be represented by successive acts in continuous
time. When a perceived object becomes an idea, the several percepts which
compose it are represented one by one — the form, the color, the feeling, the taste, the smell,
and the sound. Even single percepts, when very extended or complicated, can be represented
in parts only, in the successive instants of time which successive acts of representation
require.
SV flThCe°re- § 165, ^7 tne secon<^ stage or step of the perceptive process,
stance and attd- ^ne several percepts or parts are connected with one another,
bute- or with the whole which they constitute, as substance and
attribute. Thus the objects of the sense of touch are "known as hard or
soft, rough or smooth, elastic or non-elastic, etc., etc. Those of sight are
red, yellow, orange, violet, and green ; those of hearing are sharp, smooth,
harsh, and sweet ; those of smell are pungent, exhilarant, fetid ; and all
these qualities are ascribed to an object to which they belong, and of which
they are affirmed to be attributes. Certain relations of time and exten-
sion, as long and short, square and round, are in like manner treated as
properties or attributes. They are more than parts of wholes which they
help to constitute ; they are connected with a being or agent, the nature
of which they define, the presence of which they signify, and the powers
of which they manifest.
It is not here in place to discuss the nature of this special relation which has oc-
General defini- casioned so much speculation and dispute among metaphysicians (P. iv. c. vii ).
tion of tins rela- jfc jg sufficient here to say, that as we have already shown that knowledge
of every kind necessarily gives beings and relations, or beings as related, we
are prepared to understand the definition of a substance as a being that is capable of being
distinguished by relations ; and of attributes, qualities, and properties, as relations used to dis
196 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. § 166
tinguish and describe or define beings. That the objects of perception, both wholes and parts-^
i. e., combined and single percepts — are in fact connected in this way, is too obvious to require
illustration and proof.
§ 166. The relations most frequently employed to distinguish
frequently used and define beings, are relations of time, space, and causality.
As soon as beings are known as enduring for a longer or
shorter period, or having this or that size or form, and these relations are
used to designate or distinguish them from other beings, these relations
become their attributes. As soon as the sense-object is known as the pro-
ducer of sensations, as of smell, taste, or sound — i. e., as capable, under
certain conditions, of producing these effects, it would be known as en-
dowed with attributes ; viz., distinguishable capacities to produce these
effects. The sensations would, in their turn, be referred to these beings
as their causes or originators. No illustration is needed to prove that the
sense-element, the sensation, in these three percepts is naturally and early
regarded as an effect. So far as the mind is passive in sensation, it must
be so regarded. The sensation is experienced when the object or being is
near. It is felt less intensely when the object is remote. Its quality or
intensity, one or both, vary with the varying conditions of the object.
When an object is struck by a certain material, as wood or iron, or with a
given force, it emits a sound of peculiar quality and intensity. An object
of a certain visible form or color emits a certain odor. Another object
emits a different odor, and both these odors vary in intensity at varying
distances. An object with a certain form, feel, or color, when brought in
contact with the tongue or palate, causes a certain taste. This experiment
is perhaps, of all others, the best fitted to evolve to the mind an appre-
hension of the relation of causality, leading to that of substance and
attribute. Touched by the hand, no special novel sensation follows ; but
touched by the tongue and palate, there ensues the specific sensation of
taste. The object touched might have been regarded as a simple being or
thing ; but the object tasted is known as also capable of originating the
sensation in question.
The three sense-percepts of smell, taste, and sound, as percepts, carry with
smell, taste, and them some vague relations to extension, as has already been explained. But
sound, first used these relations are likely soon to be overlooked, in comparison with the
greater potency of the sensational element. This becomes still more promi-
nent, because of its immediate relation to the forces which awaken the desires, and impel to
action. The objects which we see and handle are very early regarded as interesting, from their
^power to impart pleasure or pain. They are sought or avoided with intense excitement nf
desire, and at the cost of toil and sacrifice. They are constantly contemplated as relateo. xo
onr appetites and wants, to our comfort and pleasure. Almost as soon as they are known
as things, they are known as causers or producers of certain agreeable or disagreeable sensa-
tions, and are described and indicated by these capacities. These capacities are their attri-
butes. By these they are ►known and recognized by the person himself. By these they are
indicated and described to others.
§ 166. THE PKODUCTS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 197
? lceisSetinS ^ *s (fP^e conceivable, as has been already suggested, that
previous to sub- before these percepts and sensations are connected under the
stance and attri- # r *
bute- relation of substance and attribute, they should be known as
constant attendants, coexistent or successive, and that, simply as con-
joined, the presence or the thought of the one should, under the laws of
association, suggest the thought of the other. It is under this relation
that things and properties are known to the animal. It is obvious that the
animal cannot and does not distinguish the relation of conjunction from
that of causation. If he has experienced one sensation or sense-percept in
connection with another, the repetition of the one brings up the image of
the other, and the pain and pleasure, the hope and fear which are appro
priate to it. The dog connects with the whip in the hand of his master
the thought of chastisement and pain ; with the sight of his gun or his
walking-stick, the excitement of a ramble or of sport. It is not easy to
assert when and why the two relations are distinguished by man ; that
they are distinguished, is obvious, for reasons which this is not the place
to give.
, . We have said that it is not till the second or advanced stage of the percep-
This relation . , »,"■,,.-
supposes reflex tive process that the percepts are connected under the relation of substance
k^owledge!1116^ and attribute. This is evident when we reflect that, as a kind of knowledge,
this is indirect and reflex, as distinguished from that which is direct and objec-
tive. It supposes the objects related, the subject of sensations, and the object which occasions
them, to be more or less familiar — to be discriminated respectively by consciousness and per-
ception ; and that both subject and object are projected in the view of the mind upon the
same plane, so that both are objects to its thought. A thing cannot be known as capable of
producing sensations as effects, unless the body or the soul, one or both, are known as the
conditions or subjects of its action ; and this requires that they should be placed afront the
reflecting mind by a special effort, requiring that maturity and discipline which time alone can
develope. Moreover, it supposes some degree of generalization, and some sort of induction.
Many objects must have been touched and seen, before they are so far recognized as similar as
to be taken for the same, in their causal efficiency. Many experiences must be had with the
sensations of smell, taste, and sound, before these could be invariably referred to the same
substances, as dependent on their properties or attributes.
But generalization and induction are acts of thought, which is a power higher than that
of simple perception. This is true ; but it has already been remarked, and needs ever to be
kept in mind, that the higher and lower powers, though distinguishable in the kind of their
activity, are not separated in fact. Moreover, the action of the lower is not complete without
the higher. In one sense it is true, that an act of sense-perception is not complete, and its
product is not perfected, until the soul's higher energies are awakened, and the object of them
has been viewed in the higher relations. The human being can scarcely be said truly to have
perceived even a pebble, as a man, till he has brought into action all the powers with which he
is endowed as a man. The higher energies also react upon the lower, and excite them to
greater efficiency. The relations appropriate to the higher, bring out in more striking relief
those relations which are present even in the lowest acts. We may believe that even in the
earlier exercises of the power of perception, there may be present some rudimentary activity
of the higher capacities, to modify, direct, and elevate them. The higher may shape the lower
nature, through those intrinsic relations which always stand ready to be revealed, or those
cravings and impulses which anticipate developed knowledge. The infant's eye may not
3 98 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. §169.
glisten with the penetrating sharpness of the eye of the young eagle, but it may wear the
softer lustre which betokens dawning intelligence. The soul leaps into no single form of
ictivity, least of all into the full development of its higher powers.
The relation of substance and attribute has hy some writers heen denied to sense-per-
fhis relation de- ception, and limited to thought or intelligence. Kant, by his nomenclature, would
^ntion enSKant" limit to sense-perception the relations of time and space, and derive from the under-
Hamilton. standing, or the logical faculty, the relation of substance and attribute. It is noticeable
that Hamilton does neither! "While by definition he limits relations of every kind to
the elaborative faculty, viz., the intelligence, in his explanation of perception, he includes in this the know-
ledge of, and by, relations. His doctrine of immediate perception should give percepts only as extended
sense-objects, but he makes it apprehend qualities, and not only qualities, but qualities of three classes, in-
volving all the metaphysical relations of matter to matter, and of matter to mind. Moreover, he denies
that by perception we have any knowledge of substance at all, this being a figment necessary to thought,
from the impotence and not the power of the understanding. The immediate perception of Hamilton, on
which he insists so earnestly, in his own exposition, gives only the knowledge of an extended percept —
which, in his metaphysical theory, is relative to some unknown and unknowable substance beyond — and
yet as he contends, we have immediate perception not only of things but of qualities, and not only of quali-
ties but of qualities in three classes.
"Were the knowledge of substance and attribute the product of generalization, we should deny it to
6ense-perception, which by our definition has to do with individual objects only and the relations which
they involve. The relation is not originated by generalization, however much it may be furthered and
widened by it. It is therefore appropriately considered here. '
Of touch and § l6^- Thus far we have called and known the substance as the object which
sight percepts js seen an(j touched, and its attributes as capacities to occasion the sensations
conjoined; which '
is substance, and of smell, taste, and sound. We have connected a percept with a percept as
which attribute ?
substance and attribute — a leading percept, as of sight, with a sensational per-
cept as of smell — and called the one a thing, and the other its quality. Let us push our
inquiries a step backward, and, laying aside all consideration of these three senses, inquire,
Which is the substance and which the attribute when the object consists solely of a percept
cf touch and a percept of sight conjoined ? We answer, The one which is viewed as a percept
— i. e., as a spatial object — is made the substance, provided it is viewed in the relation of
cause to the sense-element involved* in the other. The object as touched and the object as
seen, may respectively be substances, in their respective relations to the sensations of sight and
of touch. We say, it is white — i. e., the object which I touch ; and again, it is hard — i. c,
the object I see — the touch-percept and sight-percept being each in their turn taken as beings.
§ 168. Let us narrow our thought still more, and consider singly the object
When either are touched or the object seen. What is the being or substance, and what the
taken alone. attribute or quality, when we have a single percept only, and view it in rela-
tion to the sentient mind ? We reply, The object, as experienced to be, is
known as a substance when considered as the producer of the sensation which is the condition
of the perception. The tangible or visible object, as a being, is distinguishable as a space-
occupying or extended something. As causing or producing the sensation of sight or touch,
it is known as possessing the attribute of color or touch. The elements involved in every
act of sense-perception provide for the possibility of this relation. The relation is not, in fact,
discerned until the mind projects and brings up the perceived non-ego and the sentient ego into
the same field of vision, by a reflex and comparing act.
The sensation — i. e., the effect — is not the property or quality which produces it, though
the two are called by the same name. Sweetness means one thing when it is said to be in the
sugar, and another when it is experienced by the sentient soul. The heat, in one sense, is,
and in another is not, in the fire.
§ 169. A single additional remark is required concerning the
quality of form attributes or properties of dimension and form, in material
objects. We call an object long and short, round and square,
§171. THE PEODUCTS OP SENSE-PEECEPTIOX. 199
and, in so doing, distinguish the being from its attributes. Here we ask
again, What is known as the being or substance ? We are forced to
answer, that the being or substance, in the concrete thinking of ordinary
men, is regarded as that which is touched or seen ; and this is the sub
stance which is long or short, round or square. The being of the abstract
thinker is, as we shall see, a generalized conception, which is equivalent to
this or that perceivable or knowable thing of which the metaphysician
says, it is long or short, round or square.
But with the metaphysical conception of substance and qualities we need at present have
little to do. The questions concerning substance and attributes in the general — concerning
material substance in particular, and concerning the various divisions of sensible qualities into
essential and accidental, into primary, secondary, and secundo-primary — may all be reserved
for a more advanced stage of our inquiries, and another part of our treatise (P. iv. c. vii).
. § 170. Our second question is, Under what conditions does
Conditions of s . \ .
permanent per- the mmd attain a definite, permanent knowledge of the
ception. _ ° .
objects of sense-perception, whether percepts or things, so
that they can readily be recalled and recognized ? It is only when they
are placed so completely in the possession of the mind as to be at its dis-
posal, that the process of perception can be said to be complete. A far
larger portion of the objects which we, in some sense, are said to perceive,
fail entirely to be perceived to any effectual result. It is only a few of
the myriads which we know, that we know in such a way as to be able to
retain and recall them.
When this is done, the object of perception is converted into an idea or
Ideation of image. The real object apprehended by the mind becomes an intellectual
sense-objects. object, having a purely ideal or psychical existence. By some writers the
special term ideation is appropriated to this process. Sense-perception is said
to be complete in the highest sense when its object is ideated, or becomes an idea. The rela-
tion of the idea or image to its real correlate will be explained in its place. At present we need
only notice that the appropriate result of the process of sense-perception is that it gives the
power to recall and recognize the object perceived.
Eeid says, Essay ii. chap, v., that the act of perception involves three things, of which the first is,
"some conception or notion of the object perceived." It is evident from the illustrations which he gives
of his meaning, that he confounds the act of originally gaining knowledge of an object by perceiving, and
the act of recalling and recognizing the object afterwards. He should have said, that the act of perception
involves the gaining or forming " some conception or notion of the object perceived," i. e., the performing
a process — which results in the acquisition of a percept or idea.
. § 171. But as every perceived object is composed of parts,
^TomST as kas just been shown ; it follows that the perception of a
thing can only be complete when the mind attains ideas of
the parts or percepts of which the thing is composed, and of the parts as
related to one another. In other words, the mind must distinguish the
constituent percepts by completed or perfect acts of original perception,
and combine or connect these percepts into things, by finished acts of ac-
200 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. g 172
quired perception. It is obvious that it is impossible to have an idea of
the whole, without an idea of the parts. It is equally obvious that, what-
ever aids in the attainment of a distinct and permanent idea of a part,
favors, rather than hinders the gaining of an idea of the whole. We are
naturally led to . consider the conditions of complete perceptions of the
parts and relations of material things.
Perceptions of objects, in order to be complete and permanent, must
be distinct and definite. That is, the objects themselves must be distin-
guished from other objects.
This rule holds equally of percepts and of things. A single color, sound, touch, taste,
etc., in order to be mastered, must be distinguished from every other color, sound, touch, and
taste. So of things : a chair or a table, a house or horse, a pin or needle, even a grain of
sand or a particle of dust, to be perceived in the sense described, must be distinguished from
every other. It is, of course, implied that the power of distinguishing is gradually developed.
To the infant, many colors and sounds, tastes and touches, are indistinct, which to the senses
of the adult are clearly distinguished. Even many individual things are perceived as the
same, which, to a more practised observer, are known to be diverse. "We name, as the first
condition :
First condition 8 172. (1.) Objects are most easily distinguished which are
of completed per- ° ■ K < ' . t •' -i" -i •
ception: Ener- apprehended with great energy — which are very strikingly
gy, contrast, and tr - . . & ,. . . ., , n. to "
resemblance. contrasted with, or which are similar to other objects. A
lively color, a loud sound, a positive taste, etc., are more readily appre-
hended than a color which is faint, a sound which is feeble, or a taste
which is not positive. Things are more or less readily perceived with
effect and permanence according as the percepts of which they are con-
stituted are more or less readily known.
The definiteness with which objects are perceived depends in part also
on their likeness or unlikeness to other objects in connection with which
they are presented to the mind. Of two percepts and two things that are
very similar, and of two that are very unlike, those are more likely to be
perceived which are in striking contrast to each other, than those which
closely resemble one another. Two colors, two sounds, etc., as well as
two apples or two paintings, are each more readily perceived and retained
if they are strikingly contrasted, than if they are very similar.
The likeness or unlikeness, the resemblance and contrast, are in part purely
and contrasts, objective, — pertaining solely to the object perceived as related to the powers
objective and Q£ sense.perception supposed to belong to all men. In part they are sub-
jective, and arise from the natural or acquired capability of the individual
to feel and know. Thus, one class of persons are physically incapable of distinguishing differ-
ent colors — as those who are color-blind. Others, who can discern the colors which are com--
monly named, can with difficulty distinguish shades of color that are nearly allied. Some per-
sons are very insensible to differences and similarities of sounds, to which others are keenly
alive. Even when the original sensibility of the senses and aptitudes' of the intellect present
no diversity, there are the greatest possible differences of susceptibility, arising from differencea
of habit and attention.
§174. THE PRODUCTS OF SENSE-PEKCEPTIOX.
201
But under all these diversities of natural and acquired susceptibility, the lati
Force of con- enounced holds good, that objects which to any one individual percipient are
trast- nearly alike, are less likely to be distinctly perceived and retained : whu\!
those which are set off against others by a positive and striking contrast, are
far more likely to be perceived with that energy which is essential to distinct and definite
recall. This law is established and confirmed both by observation and experience. The infant
fixes its attention on those percepts and those things which are positive in their action upon
the senses, and which are strikingly contrasted with others. A bright light in surrounding
darkness, as a sunbeam through the shutter, the flame of a lamp with its distinct outline, a
patch of bright color, a shining fire-iron — these first hold the eye with that fixed and consider-
ate attention which is necessary to retention and recognition. In mature life the same law
holds good : objects that are bright and distinct, or that in any way are presented in contrast,
are those which are most readily noticed and most easily remembered. If the object has no
interest for our fellow-men, but has a special interest for us from any cause whatever ; we need
only perceive it, to be able to retain and remember it. The eye and the hand, the ear and the
tongue, seek first of all to define the objects which they are to retain, so as to fix and hold the
attention, and carry away a distinct idea.
§ 173. (2.) Motion heightens the contrasts of perceived
^modon11^1011 Ejects, an^ SlYes definiteness to the outline and limits, espe-
cially of visible percepts. To the infant's eye, moving objects
are the first which, so to speak, are separated from the undistinguished
mass of blended color, in which the world of matter is at first arrayed.
From this extended surface o.f color certain objects are detached, as the
moving lamp, the walking person, the portable furniture and utensils. They
pass to and fro athwart the background upon which they are projected,
and are brought into contrast with its unbroken surface, till they take their
place in the memory, as the first distinct objects with which it is provided.
By degrees this undistinguished mass of blended light and shade, of form
and color, is broken up, as one and another separate percept and distin-
guished thing is detached by the mind's observation and is set apart in the
mind's storehouse as a distinct idea. The influence of motion is not
limited to visible objects. It is most important in giving distinct per-
cepts to the sense of touch. The hand must move over the surface felt,
or the surface must move over the hand, to leave distinct percepts of its
limits and qualities.
§ 174. (3.) Repetition is an efficient and often an indispen-
TMrd condition, sai)ie condition to the completion of an act of perception.
repetition. -1 r i.
Even the simple percept, as a sound, a color, a taste, is more
perfectly mastered by being apprehended in successive acts of attention.
If several percepts are to be united as a single and separate thing, it is
still more requisite that they be often apprehended by the same or continu-
ously connected acts, in order that the object may be brought completely
into possession and placed entirely at command. This is especially neces-
sary if the percept or object, by reason of its spatial extent or the com-
plexity of its elements, is beyond the power of the mind to master in a
single act. In some cases, repetition serves to make the impression more
202 TFIE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 175
vivid and definite. In others, it is required in order that there be any
impression at all.
We have already observed, that no object of the mind's perception can
be retained unless it is perceived with aroused and concentrated energy.
The repetition of any act. if not excessive, contributes to such energy, and
hence contributes to the definiteness aod permanence of the object. This
is the general law. Its application to individual objects varies somewhat
as the object is simple or complex, as it can be mastered by a single effort,
or as it requires a succession of acts.
Different schools of psychologists give different explanations of the utility and necessity
Need of repeti- of repeated impressions, according to the fundamental principles by which their school
the1 aCCreceptive is characterize<J- The school which resolves sense-perception into the passive reception
school. of impressions from without, explain the necessity of repetition by its influence in
accumulating a stock of such impressions— either in the subjective capacity or the object-
ive material.
Herbart and Benelce agree in this view of the nature of repetition so far as to hold, that each act of
sense-perception leaves an impression or an effect behind — either in the soul itself, or a force acting within
the soul. Before distinct perception is attained or consciousness is developed, there must be many repeated
sensations in order to give a single positive or distinct perception. These are all accumulated, each rein-
forcing the other — till at last, by the addition of them all, the mind attains a distinct and definite percept,
as of a single color, sound, etc. After these percepts are reached, made up as they are of the residua of
many single acts of sense, it is necessary that these again be perceived in combination by many repeated
acts, before the mind reaches a permanent and definite perception of a thing.
The effect on the soul is called by Beneke Spur = trace or relict, Angelegtheil = predisposition. The ef-
fect of Herbart is in the form of a force or tendency imparted to the object or idea— and is called a residuum.
In other words, according to these psychologists, repetition is necessary because each act leaves some
effect behind, which is added to the stock already accumulated, the final result of the accumulations in all
cases being distinctness and permanence in the object perceived, whether it be a simple percept, or a com-
plex of percepts in a material thing. Their error lies in the mistaken or defective view of the mind's
activity and its dependence on the conditions of its success, which they adopt. The mind, in knowing
generally, and in perceiving in particular, is not as they conceive it, the passive subject of impressions—
of which there must be a certain number with a given strength, to secure a definite and abiding result.
The mind, in all its knowing— and consequently in all its perceiving — exercises a peculiar act, which we
have defined as the being certain that some object is. This act is entirely different from the passive recep-
tion of any accumulation of impressions, each sw^.ling the number and augmenting the strength of those
which have gone before. So far as the act of knowing is concerned, a single exercise of this activity is
adequate to a distinct and lasting impression. In not a few cases a single effort or application of the mind
is as efficient as a score, in order to effect a lasting remembrance. Let the attention be fixed and held,
and the whole force of the mental power be applied, and the mind cannot but receive a vivid and definite
knowledge of a distinctly remembered object. A single stroke upon the die will leave a sharp and clear im-
pression as truly as many and oft-repeated blows. And yet in point of fact, it is observed, that to the
apprehension of most objects, many applications of the mind are required ; the single act is not adequate for
a permanent impression; a single acquisition does not suffice. How is this possible? What is therein
repetition which arouses the attention so as to fix and make lasting the object? This question will be
answered under the two following heads.
tSntccordm^to § 1^5' (a') Repetition often excites and gratifies the interest
becauseit exriSs °^ ^e soul in the objects perceived, and thus arouses and
greater interest. fixes the attention upon them with greater energy.
This is illustrated by the example of many single per-
cepts!11^ e P°r" cepts. A color or sound gives pleasure when once perceived.
Let it solicit the mind's notice a second time, and the remem-
brance of the gratification which it gave will arouse the mind to attend
with increased energy to the object which had previously imparted so pleas-
ant an experience. In the recollection of that experience, and with the
§176. THE PKODUCTS OE SENSE-PEECEPTIOX. 20?
hope of its renewal, it renews again all its energy of perception. The re*
suit is a definite remembrance of every thing which the man is competent 01
prepared to know in respect to it. When the attention is solicited again;
the mind at once responds to the call, withdraws its divided or distracted
activity, and, according to its sense of the value of the good to "be
enjoyed, responds with an energetic and attentive gaze. Each new look
reveals some new property or feature unknown before, and with it comes
some new enjoyment, the recollection of which stimulates to renewed
attention, till the soul is satisfied that all that can be known and all that
can be enjoyed has been exhausted.' By this time, however, the object has
been so attentively considered that it cannot be lost.
The same law operates in the apprehension of things, or of many percepts
This as true of united in one. Let it be supposed that the perception of these in their
percepts5 ** ™ °f re^ati°ns gives special pleasure, and the same result will follow as in the per-
ception of single objects. The mind that is delighted by a masterly combi-
nation of sounds, or a blending of colors, or mixture of tastes, or contrast of touches, will
repeat the perception of these combinations with increased interest and increased attention.
The perceptions gained by the energies thus stimulated, will be certain to remain.
If the percepts are gained by different senses, as in those combinations which we call
things or objects, the same law will hold good.
It often happens that the objects which solicit our attention excite no special interest in
themselves, and yet some feature or features in them attracts the attention, because of some
relation to objects in which we are especially interested. Thus, a hundred faces in a crowd, a
hundred trees in a wood, a hundred horses in a drove, remind us of nothing about which we
care. "\y"e give to each and all an uninterested glance ; there is no energetic perception, and
of course no definite impression. None are noticed, and all are forgotten.
But if a single one pleases us, because it brings up the thought of any object which it is
pleasant to think of ; if it even attracts our attention sufficiently to inquire whether it is like
or unlike that which it is pleasant or unpleasant to remember, we shall so attend to that one
as to retain what our perception gives.
eSnSUThe § 176, (*•) Repetition is still more essential to enable the
andcem°fexof>e mm<^ to unite into a whole the separate parts of objects
i8Cts- which cannot be grasped by a single act of perception. The
examples already cited, belong to those objects which require but a single
act of attention in order to be completely possessed by the mind. There
is a very large class of objects, however, which consist of too many parts
to be known by a single effort of perception. These must be combined
together into one, by successive acts. For example, if we perceive a
mathematical figure with a very irregular and complicated outline, it is
necessary that we view it in separate portions, in order to master the
whole. Not only is this true, but we often need to review each portion
which Ave have already perceived, in order to connect it with the part which
was previously perceived. After we have followed the outline by repeated
acts of observation, we need often to review the whole, as a whole, by a
vapid succession of acts, or by a single glance of the eye, to unite the sev
204 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 1V6-
eral parts. If we look at a painting, we study its several parts, perhaps
for hours together, in order to gain and carry away a distinct and satisfac-
tory impression of the whole. If we look at the front of an edifice that
is elaborately adorned, we follow the several features one by one in their
order, often returning upon our course, that we may retain the percep-
tions which we have gained.
. , The office and the necessity of repetition in all these cases are peculiar, and
Some objects are . .,,.__ „,.,
beyond the natu- require special explanation. We observe, first, that m the cases supposed,
Boil.11111*8 °f the tne obJect is t0° extensive to be perceived by the mind in a single act. There
are spatial and numerical limits to the mind's power to perceive distinctly.
If the object within this limit is very simple, it may be mastered by a single effort. But if it
is complex, and consists of many separable or distinguishable parts, it becomes necessary to
use repetition, not because the space is too extensive to be distinctly perceived at a single
effort, but because the number of objects is too great to be separately contemplated together
by any single act.
T1 _ But why must the observer give a second look to the parts which he is compe-
tion often a mere tent to observe at a, single glance — for example, to objects within a limited
ery and selec- space and of small number — and often many repeated looks, in order to unite
tioa- them into a completed impression ? Why must the eye run again and again
along the outline of an irregular and extended boundary, or over the face of a large edifice,
before it can fix and carry away a definite impression of the whole ? The general answer to
the question is, that it must do this for two reasons : first, in order that it may seek out and
discover what it can find ; and second, that when it has discovered what is there, it may deter-
mine what it will select as worthy of those efforts of attention which are requisite for a com-
plete and permanent perception. The first efforts of the eye upon such an object are like
voyages of discovery or movements of military reconnoissance. They serve the same pur
pose as the use of the finding-glass of a telescope. The eye runs hither and there with a
vague and quickly-shifting gaze. It finds one feature after another which excites its interest
and attracts its attention, and thus learns in a general way what material is present for it to
work upon. After this preliminary work, a second and still another look may be required,
that the mind may determine which of these parts it is worth while to unite together into a
continuous and connected whole, by successive acts of attentive perception. That this view ia
correct, is manifest from the difference which we notice between observing a complex object
when seen for the first time, and when it has become familiar by repeated acts of perception.
If the object is new and strange, we must view it again and again in order to bring away any
distinct perception. If it is familiar, or like a familiar object, a single and hasty look is often
enough to secure a clear and permanent knowledge. In such a case we know beforehand
what we expect to find, and to what points we need to direct the eye in order to assure our-
selves. If parts of the objects differ slightly from those previously perceived, or those which
we expect to find, these are noticed at once, and the new perception is corrected accordingly.
In the other case, we do not know beforehand what we are to find, and we must use repeated
efforts in order to determine what there is to be found, and what we will select as worthy of
preservation.
When the object contains a greater number of parts than we can grasp at a
complex obiccte single view, there is need of repetition for another reason. Let the outline
require repeti- 0f a mathematical figure be made up of many sides, or the face of an edifice
consist of a very great number of salient features, and it is impossible — let
cither be ever so familiar — that they be perceived distinctly by any single effort of percep-
tion. The eye must pass around the outline, or sweep across the face by successive acts, and
master each portion in detail, in order to perceive the whole so as to recall it. Such objects
§177. THE PRODUCTS OP SENSE-PERCEPTION. 205
are perceived in parts under the law of natural limitation to which, the senses are subject
They must be recalled by successive acts, because they can be recalled only in obedience to
the laws of those relations under which they are originally perceived. To fix these connec-
tions, attention is necessary. In order to know what these relations are to which it is desira-
ble successively to attend, repetition is required.
In surveying large objects, or those which are very complex, repetition becomes necessary
for the double purpose of fixing in the memory the parts of which the object is composed,
and of so connecting together these parts in a continuous whole, that they can be revived in
succession, under the laws of association.
, Here again we notice a striking difference between obiects that are regular
More frequent ,7s. , , ,.-.., , n
repetition if the and unitorm, and those which are irregular and multiform. Of two figures
objects are meg- 0f gfty s[ftes^ \e^ one foe a regular and another an irregular polygon. Let the
fa9ade of a building be made of similar parts combined after a uniform law
of recurrence and symmetry ; or let the parts have no relation of likeness, order, or corre-
spondence. A few repetitions of attention enable us to master the one ; very many are re-
quired to put us in possession of the other. In the case of the regular object, we first per-
ceive that the parts are arranged in a certain order which is repeated — either exactly, or with
inconsiderable deviations. To learn what this order is, may require several consecutive acts
of close attention. But when this order is learned, and the elements of each group are dis-
cerned, the mind is in a condition to recall the whole, by its mastery of a single series of the
parts. If the parts of the object are arranged in no discernible order, especially if they are
very numerous, they must be apprehended in detail, a few only together. These few must
then be connected with the adjoining group by another attentive act, and so on till all are per-
ceived, and the mind is in a condition to recall the whole.
Fourth condi- § 1'^' (4t) Familiar objects are readily and rapidly per-
fuTperceSnS cer7ed- ^ovel or unfamiliar objects are slowly and pain-
famiiiarity. furjy mastered. The fact is unquestioned. The explanation
of it is furnished by the principles which have been already laid down.
Familiar objects, either single percepts or combinations of percepts,
are such as have been often distinguished from others. When the con-
stituent percepts are familiar, as shades of color, sounds, forms, touches,
tastes, and smells, the mind is ready to attend to them and to know them
with little effort, being guided in directing and fixing its attention by its
remembrance of what it had perceived before, and incited to attention by
remembered pleasure. If the combination is also familiar — i. e., the union
of the taste or smell with the color, or the touch with the form — the same
law holds good. In looking at an individual chair or table which I have
often perceived, or the aspect of which is familiar, one percept prepares the
way for the other — the color for the form, the form for the weight ; one
part for another, as the leg, for the back of the chair or the bed of
the table ; so that the mind is at once prepared for what it expects and
readily apprehends what its attention is waiting for.
But let the object be unfamiliar, we are detained upon its parts in the way already ex-
plained, in order that we may discover what they are, so far as to decide which, if any, shall
receive our attention. If a novel piece of furniture is seen, or a new implement, or an edifice
singularly planned, or a work of art executed after peculiar principles, or if an animal or
plant of an unfamiliar species or a dress of a new fashion, are presented for our inspection,
206 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. g 179,
we find it necessary to look again and again at the object. We must feel our way step by
step and part by part, to find the parts of which it consists, so that we can recall them.
8 178. The acts of repeated perception which are required
Repetition not . , , -i^-i-,., „
necessarily rec- m such cases, are not to be confounded with acts of recog-
nition, or acts of comparison for the purpose of discerning
similarities or other relations.
Acts of recognition and of comparison do indeed usually accompany
these efforts of perception. But though they often facilitate, they do
not constitute the acts. This is manifest from the nature of the case. A
single percept, and an object consisting of several percepts, must first be
perceived in order to be recognized. It must be known the first time,
or by a first act, in order to be known the second time, or by a subsequent
act. So, two objects must be perceived, before they can be compared
and discerned to be similar or alike.
Recognition and comparison accompany perception, but they are no parts of the act.
They greatly facilitate the act, but they do not enter into the act itself. Perception is
developed along with these higher activities. The higher activities, in their turn, stimulate
and guide the lower. The perceptions of the infant — and often of the cultivated — are lim-
ited, because the range of its recognitions and comparisons is narrow. But within this range
they are often more acute and discriminating, because they are concentrated upon fewer
objects, and are disturbed by fewer distracting questions of sameness or similarity. The
child and the hunter, the sailor and the fisherman, have sharper and acuter vision than the
adult and the philosopher, not merely because their organs of sense are in higher physical per-
fection, but because they are practised upon fewer objects, and the mental force of attention
is fixed with greater interest, and therefore concentred with greater energy. On the other
hand, the educated man often sees in the same object, and even with the eye of sense, much
more than the. child or savage can see, with his acuter bodily organs, simply because his
wider range of knowledge prepares him to look for more, and to appreciate it when it is pre-
sented.
Some psychologists distinguish, perception from sensation thus : ' a sensation, when recognized as
similar to one previously experienced, hecomes a perception.' So Herbert Spencer : " As there can he no
classification or recognition of objects without perception of them ; so there can be no perception of them
without classification or recognition." " A perception of it [an object] can arise only when the group of
sensations is consciously coordinated, and their meaning understood." " The perception of any object,
therefore, is impossible, save under the form of recognition or classification." Principles of Psychology,
§46. London, 1855.
Morell says : " To perceive a thing, means, first of all, to recognize it ; " and again : " When we come
to perceive special objects, then it is implied that we not only recognize, but that we also begin to classify
them."— Introduction to Mental Philosophy, pp. 85, 86. London, 1862. That this is really impossible and
logically self-contradictory, is obvious from what has been said. Recognition and classification attend and
assist perception, but they do not constitute the act. It is obvious that this definition would exclude from
the act of perception-proper, all that is material to it, or by which it is distinguished from sensation-proper,
viz. : the apprehension of spatial relations and of externality. Neither of these are necessarily involved in
the recognition or comparison of sensations. The view would limit us to a purely idealist v« f heory.
continuance of § ^®m (p.) To complete and successful perception, some
fa?6 s^TcesS continuance of time is necessary. The necessity for time is
perception. partly physical or organic, and partly mental or psychical.
The organic necessity lies in the unexplained and ultimate fact, that in
order to a complete and definite physical impression upon the organ, thero
§180. THE PRODUCTS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 207
must be a continued action of its excitant or stimulus for a brief but
appreciable period. The eye and the ear, and the other organs, with their
connected nervous apparatus, must be occupied with that which excites
them, in order to give a sensation of which the mind can avail itself to
distinct perception. Indeed, after the stimulant has ceased to affect the
organ, the sensation, and with it the perception, remains, as is evident
from the experiment by which we revolve a burning coal so swiftly as
to perceive a circle of fire. These after-sensations, in many abnormal con-
ditions of the system, are ludicrously and fearfully conspicuous in their
effects, and produce spectral illusions and hallucinations in manifold varie-
ties. All that we need notice here, is the possibility that a sensation may
continue after its excitant is withdrawn.
The psychical necessity is obvious from the fact that the mind can
remit or increase the energy of the organ by its own voluntary agency,
and that, to exert this energy, also requires time, if for no other reason,
because the mind acts through and under the laws of its physical organ-
ism. An increase of energy in a part or the whole of the organism is an
affair of time, and is often a measure of its lapse.
In those acts by which several percepts are connected and combined, time is also required.
If the mind cannot master a single percept "without continued attention, much less can it con-
nect several under any common relation without requiring an appreciable portion of duration.
Whenever the mind must not only attain a definite apprehension of the separate percepts, but
must regard them as related together ; to each of these attainments, and to all united, a con-
tinued effort is necessary, and a considerable period of duration.
Jugglers, prestidigitators, etc., perform many of their feats by having acquired
involve quick- a capacity of rapid movement which does not allow time enough for the
ment. °f move" sense-perceptions of lookers-on to respond to the objects. Often they do
not furnish time enough for the requisite impressions to be made upon the
sense-organs. Still more frequently they do not furnish time in which perception or intelli-
gence may perceive the objects in their relations, so as to discriminate, construct, and interpret
■what the sense-organs respond to. Quickness of movement and quickness of thought are the
prime requisites for a successful juggler. To this should be added the capacity to divert the
attention by lively sallies, by sudden gestures, rapid speech, exciting tones, and a bold address,
as well as skill in inventing the physical appliances of illusion. A man endowed by nature
with aptitudes like these, who has learned to make them efficient by art, can almost cheat the
eyes and ears of the soberest and most practised observer.
8 180. It is in place here to consider the doctrine which is
Can. we attend .._ , • i i i t\ -i -i «
to more than one insisted on so earnestly, particularly by JJusrald fetewart
thing at a time ? , ^,y .. N , , . , . ..
\±Llements, c. 11.), that the mind, in perception, can attend to
but one object at a time. This position he endeavors to sustain and en-
force by examples like the following : In viewing a mathematical figure,
say of a thousand sides, we view each side by a separate effort of atten-
tive regard, till we have passed around the outline by successive acts of
perception. The eye and the mind do this so rapidly, that when the out-
line is not very complicated, they seem to grasp and master the whole by
208 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 180.
a single and instantaneous act. So, in listening to a concert of music, we
think we hear — i. e.f attentively listen to — all the instruments and separate
parts together, whereas we in fact can attend to hut one. When we seem
to ourselves to listen to all, we in fact pass so rapidly from one to another
as to think we attend to all together. When Stewart is called to explain
what he means by a single object, he defines it, in connection with the
eye, as the minimum visibile — that is, the smallest extension of color or
shaded light by which the eye can be affected. In respect to the ear, he
ought, by a similar rule, to assert that the minimum audibile, or the sim-
plest and shortest appreciable sound only, can be attended to at a single
instant.
The theory of Stewart labors under the following difficul-
ste^Stvfiieoi*0 ^es : ^ excludes the possibility of comparing objects with
one another. In order to compare objects so as to discern that
they are alike or diverse, they must be considered together — that is, they
must be attentively perceived in combination. We cannot see that two
surfaces of color are alike or unlike, without perceiving them both in con-
nection, and perceiving them both by a single attentive act. In the cases
supposed by Stewart of the several sides of a complicated outline, or the
separate sounds of the instruments in an orchestra, the parts of the figure
must be considered together, to be known to be adjoining, near, or re-
mote : the separate notes or sounds also must be heard together, to be
discerned to be alike or harmonious, to be known as higher or lower, or to
be connected as before and after one another. It is obvious that the mind
can apprehend more than a single object at once. If it could not, it would
be forever and entirely cut off from the most important part of its knowl-
edge, viz., the knowledge of relations ; which knowledge can only be
attained by the apprehension of at least two objects together.
It may perhaps be said, that what Stewart intended to assert was this : that
Attention to an in sense-perception the mind can only attend to one object at the same indi-
imaRc. and ltS yis^e instant ; that in those cases in which it compares two objects, it con-
nects an object perceived with an object represented, a percept with a repre-
sentation. For example, in viewing a complex outline, or hearing the sounds of an orchestra,
it sees at a present instant a single side or the smallest possible part of a side — the minimum
visibile — or hears a single sound or note, and, while seeing or hearing, compares with it the
side just seen or the sound just heard before. But in order to do this, it must apprehend at
the same undivided instant of time both the side which is seen and the side which is remem-
bered. The doctrine that the mind can apprehend or know but a single object at a single
instant of time, must be abandoned as incompatible with all the higher functions and acqui-
sitions of the soul, as well as with the most obvious facts within our experience.
Tho mind n ^u* ^ *s n0* *rue *na^ m sense-perception even, the mind can
thatTone thin^ apprehend but a single object at a time. The mind must be
at a time. ^\e t0 apprehend more than one object of sense, because its
attention is so readily turned from one to another. Among many objecti
§180. THE PEODUCTS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 209
that are equally before its gaze, it singles out one, concentrates all its
energy upon it, and then suddenly leaves it, fixing on another ; and sc
passes from one to another with a rapidity that surprises itself. This it
could not do unless it were able to apprehend many objects by a vague
perception of their existence. The single fact that the eye can perceive a
wide extent of space, viewing all parts equally well, compels us to believe
that this extended object, containing many within its limits, is appre-
hended by the mind as made up of many parts, and that these parts, or
single objects, can all be seen by a single act.
„ . , But can the mind use the utmost energy of attention upon more than a single
Can the mind
use the utmost object of sense ? This question, if it could be answered satisfactorily, would
more^than^ne Sive but little satisfaction to the mind, for the reason that it very rarely hap-
object? pens that the mind, in perception, employs its utmost energy of attention.
It scarcely ever happens that single objects, in the sense of minima visibilia, ot minima
audibilia, are perceived at all. The smallest possible percept rarely occupies the attention.
Then again, the mind rarely, if ever, puts forth its utmost energy. Attention is an affair of
degree, which varies with each condition or status of the soul. If, then, it were theoretically
true that the utmost conceivable energy of attention must necessarily be fixed and concentred
on the smallest possible percept, the supposed case would never occur in fact. It might be
true, notwithstanding, that great energy of attention could be fixed on two percepts, or even
on more than two material things.
The material point to be decided is, whether the mind can at once apprehend or atten
tively know more than a single object. This being decided in the affirmative, all other ques-
tions are of little interest. It is enough that we are certain that objects cannot be effectively
known except they are known in their relations. To the knowledge of relations, the knowl-
edge of at least two related objects is necessary. To successful or permanent knowledge,. even
of relations, attention is requisite. The mind must then be able to attend to more than a
single object. Inasmuch, also, as by far the most important of our sense-perceptions are con-
cerned with the union of percepts either of the same or different senses, it follows as highly
probable, if not as absolutely certain, that the mind can attentively perceive more than a single
percept. Whether the mind, in the same act of perception, can or usually does attend with
equal energy to each of several percepts, is a question which might be prosecuted with some
show of reason. When we view two or more objects together for the purpose of comparing
them, and strain the mind to its utmost energy, the excess of energy is directed now to one
and now to another. Both are attended to, but not with the same intenseness. This is ordi-
narily observed to occur. The mind regards one object with more attention than the other,
in order that it may receive a vivid and distinct impression of it, and then compares or in some
other way connects it with that received from the other. Wb.en this is done, the process of
comparison or connection is complete. This fact or phenomenon has given occasion to the
unwarranted and impossible inference, that the mind can attend to but a single object at the
eame indivisible instant.
14
210 "the human intellect. § 181
CHAPTER VIII.
ACTIVITY OF THE SOUL IN SENSE-PERCEPTION.
The foregoing analysis of the process of sense-perception into its constituent elements, and its
successive stages, has assumed that, so far as perception is an act of knowledge, it is
essentially active. So far as the analysis has shown itself to be correct, so far may it be
considered as an indirect argument in support of this assumption. The correct doctrine
in regard to this subject is, however, so important, not only in its relation to the nature
and the trustworthiness of knowledge in general, but also in its special bearing upon the
higher functions of the soul, as well as upon a correct theory of the nature of the soul
itself, that it deserves and even requires a separate discussion. Inasmuch, also, as the
special form and results of perception depend very largely upon what are called the
active powers of the soul, viz., the appetites, the emotions, and the will, we embrace
within our discussion a recognition of the influence of the springs of action upon the
intellect. For this reason we have adopted for the title of this chapter, ' the activity of
the soul in sense-perception.'
8 181. The impression is very common, that the soul, in its
Sense-perception " ...,. n ...
held to be pas- sense-perceptions, is simply receptive of material objects —
that it passively receives or submits to whatever impressions
are imprinted upon it from without, exerting no active agency of its own.
By many, this impression is stated as a positive doctrine, which is consistently carried out
into all its logical inferences and applications. Thus Kant and his disciples, as well as many
psychologists not of his school, assert that the soul, in sense-perception — as indeed in all the
intuitions of consciousness — is simply receptive, while in the higher functions of thought it is
self-active. So far is this doctrine carried, that a distinction is made between the forms of
intuition on the one hand, which are called receptivities, and made to pertain to the passive
nature of the soul, and the forms of thought on the other, which are supposed to belong to
the soul's active energy.
Psychologists of the materialistic school, and many who are not materialists, but are more
or less influenced by forms of expression and habits of association that are borrowed from
materialistic theories, not only assert that the mind is passive in its sense-perceptions, but even
in the higher activities of imagination and thought. Locke often inadvertently expresses him-
self in language and by illustrations and analogies borrowed from the physics of his time.
Condillac not only makes all sensations to be impressions imprinted upon the tabula rasa,
but makes all ideas, or the intellectual copies of sensations, to be simply ' transformed sensa-
tions.' With him agree in principle the ideologists of the French school. The schools of
Beneke and Herbart in Germany, as also Herbert Spencer and his disciples in England and
America, all formally accept and positively teach the same doctrine, or unconsciously assume
it to be true in their theories and discussions.
The grounds on which these theories and assumptions rest
Grounds on ,,>-,-,• m, ,. . n ,
which the theory are the following : 1. I he general misconception of. the
nature of the soul, and the powers and laws of its working,
by which it is invested with material properties, and interpreted by mate-
§ 183. ACTIVITY OF THE SOUL IN SENSE-PEECEPTION. 211
rial analogies. This misconception has been already explained and dis
cussed sufficiently, and needs no further elucidation (cf. § 25).
2. The unquestioned fact, that the soul, in sense-perception, appre-
hends and acts by means of a material organism, and has to do solely with
material objects. This fact cannot be disputed. It is not surprising
that the inference should be derived, that that which acts by means of
matter as its instrument, and upon matter as its object, must itself, at
least in these classes of its activities, follow the laws of matter so far as
to be capable of action only so far as it is acted upon, and to depend on
matter not only to arouse it to action, but for the degree of energy to
which it can be excited.
3. The soul is known to be entirely dependent on matter for the
objects which it perceives. It cannot perceive any material object when
the object or stimulus does not exist. Moreover, the efficiency of the
material organ or instrument which it employs, depends on the material
conditions which are required for healthful and vigorous activity.
That the soul is § 182. ^*e mamtain that in sense-perception the intellect is
active, is attest- active, and for the following reasons : The soul, in sense
ed oy conscious- ' o ?
ness- perception, is known through consciousness to be active,
and in a special sense to be self-active. To perceive by the senses, is only
a special form of the soul's general capacity or power to know. To
know, is not to receive or suffer an impression, but to be certain of a fact ;
and whatever may be true of the objects which are known, or of the
instrument or conditions by which these objects are brought within the
reach of the mind's activity, these do not in the least affect the nature of
the activity itself. So far as this function is exercised, the soul is simply
self-active, and as truly so as in those higher functions in which the
objects and conditions of this activity are only spiritual (cf. § 46).
To know, is not only to be certain of existing facts or realities, but it is also to apprehend
these facts in certain relations. The facts or beings known differ somewhat in their nature in
different kinds of knowledge ; in the case of sense-perception, these beings are material. The
relations apprehended differ according to the kind of knowledge ; to the knowledge of matter,
a limited class of relations only being essential. But knowledge is knowledge, whatever may
be the nature or extent of the facts or relations which are involved and required. To appre-
hend the existence and the. relations of sense-objects, must of necessity be an intellectual act,
and it may involve an active process. It cannot be conceived or defined as a state of passive-
ness or receptivity only. Its conditions may involve reception and suffering in some stage of
the process. The preparation of its objects may involve the subjection of the sentient organ-
ism, and of the soul which animates it, to material forces and laws ; but the acts or processes
by which the objects thus presented are known apart or are united, are active, and active only.
They cannot be conceived as any thing besides.
deveiopldbyde1- § 183* ^nat tne sou^ *s actrve m sense-perception, is evident
varying^erfeS ^rom ^e following facts, most of which have already
tion- been noticed. The power of the intellect to perceive any
objects of sense is developed by degrees in the mind of the infant, and.
212 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 184.
after it is fully developed, is exercised at different times and by different
persons with a greater or less degree of energy. Different persons also
acquire, by special discipline, what may be called a special power to per-
ceive certain classes of objects ; which special power is exercised with
varying energy and effect on different occasions. The rapidity and per-
fection with which this power is or can be exercised, depends on the
energy of attention with which it is applied to its objects. Now, atten-
tion is a varying condition of activity, and is possible only of those states
which deserve to be called the active, in distinction from the passive con-
ditions of the soul. If the soul can attend in its sense-perceptions, it
must be active in them.
..!■'.,.. „ The infant begins to perceive when and so far as it begins to attend. So far
Attention the ; , « , . , , .
condition of sue- as we can judge from observation, or can remember by looking back over
ress. a pr°s" our own childhood, or are authorized to infer from analogy, we conclude that
the soul of the infant is at first in a condition in which sensation greatly pre-
dominates, with only the feeblest exercise of intelligent perception. The infant at first feels
many sensations, but it can scarcely be said to know objects at all. In other words, it only
perceives, with the lowest activity possible of a power undeveloped by exercise. It is only when
its attention is aroused and its power to know is acquired and fixed, that it is properly said to
perceive. Its attention is first limited to the objects of a single sense. One after another,
each of the senses is awaked to action, and, as each is aroused, the mind seems to bestow for
the time the whole of its energy upon the world which a single sense unfolds before it. It
studies light, it studies colors, it studies forms, it studies sounds, it studies touches. Soon, in
connection with the movements of its body, it learns to apprehend the relations of space, viz.,
position, distance, and dimensions. It then gathers its percepts together, locates them to-
gether or apart, attaching them to their appropriate places or objects. Then it uses one class
of percepts in place of another, or as signs of distance, size, etc., in all the varieties of acquired
perception.
As the mind passes through each of these stages of its early development, it concentrates
its energy upon definite and appropriate objects. Upon the infant's eye, as physically recep-
tive of light, color, and form, the same landscape is painted as that which is mirrored on the
eye of the man ; but how much more does the man perceive than the child. Sounds, smells,
and tastes solicit in vain the apprehension of the one, which are answered by the quick per-
ception of the other. Or, if they are distinguished by each, to the mind of the one they
indicate far more than to that of the other. The one perceives in them the various wealth
of signification which they suggest ; to the other, they signify nothing.
Differences in § ls4* As rea^ an^ as great a difference is to be observed in
oAhe^^and tae perceptions of different men and in those of the same
of different men. men at different times. We suppose that the power to per-
ceive is fully developed in each, and notice the difference which is made
by the energy and direction in which different individuals exert the power
at any moment. Two persons look out upon a landscape, but how much
more does the one behold than the other. One sees countless objects
which the other entirely overlooks — houses, trees, lawns, lines of beauty,
contrasted and varying colors, artistic groupings, none of which are ob-
served by the other. Numberless sounds await the notice of each. One
§185. ACTIVITY OF THE SOUL IN SENSE-PERCEPTION. 213
hears, the other fails to hear the crowing cock, the sharp report of the
rifle, the rattling and rumbling of distant vehicles, the cawing crow, the
singing of birds. The same is true of the percepts of taste, smell, and
touch, though in a manner and to a degree less striking. (Cf. " Eyes and
No Eyes," in Evenings at Some.)
A striking difference is discernible by every individual of himself in the perceptions wbM
he forms of the same object at different times. In a certain mood, through listlessness, a few
objects attract a feeble notice, or secure an answering regard. At another time, the wakeful
eye and mind gather in from the same field, before so barren, a myriad of percepts that had
remained unnoticed. They throng in upon the excited and aroused attention with surprising
rapidity and profusion. Even when the mind is most wakeful, much is left unperceived, from
want of time or interest. We might spend hours in gazing into a single tree, and not exhaust
its wea&h of material. After viewing an extensive landscape closely for hours, when we turn
from it, we leave behind and unseen far more than we have perceived and brought away.
Facts like these prove decisively that perception is more than the passive recipience of
imprints from without — that it involves an active cooperation from the spirit within. They
show that each man's perceptions are what his own activity makes them to be — that they are a
product of the excitements furnished by material nature and the mind's own energy.
8 185. The methods in which the soul exerts its energy are
Different modes « ^ oj
of this activity, various. The soul imparts special energy to single organs,
the organs. so that they perform their functions with more than usual
efficiency. It does this by determining a flow or excitement of the nerv-
ous power to the eye, the ear, or the hand, thereby rendering each capable
of a more vivid sensation. This process and this effect are both called the
innervation of the organs. It is accomplished, in all probability, by the
medium of the reflex or efferent nervous organism. Whatever may be the
physical or physiological medium by which the effect is produced, its cause
is psychical ; the soul itself is the originating agent.
This innervation of a single organ or pair of organs is observed in cases like the follow-
ing : The eye rests listlessly or wanders vaguely over a landscape or a crowd of men. In a
moment it is fixed by some single object, perhaps through some physical stimulus, as a bright
light or glaring color ; perhaps by something attractive only to the feelings. The curiosity is
aroused, and stimulates the organ to do its utmost. Under the innervation of the agent of
vision, the picture which had before been painted dimly on the retina, is suddenly lighted up
as though a new force of sunlight had poured upon the object a fresh illumination. In a simi-
lar way, the soul can awaken the ear to more distinct hearing, by summoning its physical
capacities to do their utmost. ' Did you hear that shriek ? ' says one man to another. The
ears of both are made attent at once, and are physically excited, to catch even the feeblest
sound, as well as mentally to interpret its meaning.
That the soul possesses and uses this power, is evident still
Partial suspen- in i . -, •
cion of certain further from the fact, that, in order to increase the energy
organs. .
of single organs, the mind is often forced to suspend the
action of the others. We close the eyes, that we may hear distinctly a
doubtful call, or mark the faint ticking of the clock, or do full justice to
the skill and power with which a superior singer manages delicately
214 THE HUSIA^ INTELLECT. § 187.
shaded sounds. We find it difficult, and sometimes impossible, to give
full effect to two of the senses at the same time. We cannot at the same
instant read the degrees from a measuring scale, and listen to a musical air
8 186. The mind exercises its activity in its sense-percep
The attention °. '_'.-.". '."" " . . ,. . , , «
tees upon select- tions, by directing its attention to a limited number of sense-
2d objects. . .
objects, and neglecting the remainder.
The mind, as we have seen (§ 176 ), in one act of apprehension can be
occupied with only a few objects, whether they are objects of sense, or
psychical creations. To do justice to those objects, so as to bring away
distinct and vivid images of their being and relations, requires that they
be exclusively before the mind. If they are exclusively present, other
objects must be excluded, shut out, and neglected. We have also seen
(§179), that, in apprehending objects of sense, an additional reason for
this exclusive occupation is found in the fact, that a prolonged occupation
of the organ with its object is required in order that the physiological con-
ditions for a definite impression may be fulfilled. The fact is unques-
tioned, that the mind does both admit and shut out the objects of sense
by its active efforts.
If we notice and follow our own processes id sense-perception, we shall observe that we
are constantly employing our energies in this twofold way. When, for example, we listen to
a full orchestra, we may single out the fife, and follow its shrill piping with a distinct and
delighted apprehension of the melody, in spite of the crashing masses of sound that assail the
ear from trumpet, trombone, and drum ; or we trace with rapt and absorbed devotion the
silver threading of the leading violin along its sinuous course ; or we combine into a single
and almost exclusive impression the sounds which the stringed or wind instruments make
together ; or we give the ear to a single part as rendered by its appropriate agents, soar-
ing and floating with the air, or inspired by the animating tenor, or gravely sympa-
thizing with the bass, leaving, in each instance, all the other parts unheard. The power of
the mind not to perceive or not to notice, is illustrated by examples like the following : The
miller does not hear the sounds from his own mill, while the visitor can hear nothing else.
The factory operative does not notice, and therefore is not disturbed by the whir of the spin-
dles and the clash of the looms. He can speak and hear with entire freedom, while the by-
stander can do neither, from the distracting and deafening din.
Activit shown § 18^* ^ne activity of the mind in sense-perception is still
in selecting and further illustrated in the great variety of acts and processes
combining sense- .
objects. which we are distinctly conscious that we are compelled to
perform, in order to create percepts and images which we can carry away
and retain. These acts and processes are acts of selective analysis and
constructive synthesis, by which the soul chooses for itself the objects
which it will separate and remember as distinct objects or things. These
objects, when formed and made familiar, can be recalled and recognized
by the memory, and recast by the imagination. They people the
dream-world, they crowd upon the phantasy, they illustrate general con-
ceptions, etc., etc.
When we are confronted with an object wholly strange and new, we
§188. ACTIVITY OF THE SOUL IN SENSE-PERCEPTION. 215
often find ourselves making distinct efforts in studying it part by part, and
then still others, that we may unite the parts together into definite prod
ucts. Evren when the eye is introduced to a new landscape, it first runs
with rapid glance along the horizon, resting here and there upon any point
or feature which invites a prolonged or second look ; then it sweeps hither
and thither, crossing its track as often as need be, searching out whatever
may attract its gaze. After having thus constructed the outline of the
picture, it leisurely paints in the details one by one, till the whole is fin-
ished, and it can carry away the remembrance of it as a single object ; or
perhaps it divides it into separate portions, and treasures in the memory
cabinet pictures of selected parts. But how much does the most careful
and active observer overlook ! How little does he notice and remember
of the grace and beauty which is spread out before him ! How much is
hid and overlooked, to the most attentive and the best-trained eye ! How
much is reserved for after-efforts !
The recognition A recognition of the activity of the mind in perception is of the greatest
of this activity . 5 J A as p + *
important for importance to a rjght conception of the nature and conditions of acts of
of imitation memory and imagination. The mind can re-create by the representative
and memory. power only what it has first created by the power of perception. The mem-
ory and imagination can recall and reshape no more of the objects of sense than the percep-
tive power has shaped and fixed and carried away for the service of both. The acquisitions
of the memory and the reach of the imagination do not depend so much upon the number of
objects which we have perceived, as upon the manner in which we have perceived them. It is
not merely what is brought to the notice or within the reach of the senses, but what the mind
actually and effectually so works upon as to place it at the service of the power to recall and
re-create. This we know to be true in fact, by experience and observation. There are times
when we seem to perceive the greatest number of objects, and with the most excited interest,
and yet of them all we can recall but a few, and these but vaguely. The wealth of material
sometimes wearies and distracts the power to appropriate it.
Why this should be so, will be fully explained when we consider the conditions and laws
of the representative faculty. A general statement of these reasons may be thus expressed :
The secondary activity of the mind in recalling or re-creating must depend on its primary or
original energy in perceiving and acquiring. The action of the mind in remembering and
imagining is wholly spiritual and subjective. It would seem that its conditions and laws must
be found in that element of sense-perception which also is spiritual and subjective.
This activity in §188. The activitv of the mind in sense-perception is re-
eelection and . _ . . .
combination quired in early life to separate the mass of perceived or per-
shown m early . , , . , . ,,.. ,. ,.,
life. ceivable material into the distinct objects which are appre-
hended and named by men of average intelligence.
We have already seen that the work of thus uniting different percepts
into distinguishable wholes is performed to a great extent before the time
when we can distinctly remember. To the infant's eye the whole world
of perceivable matter, so far as it is perceived at all, is perceived as a
single whole, or one undivided object. The apartment within which it
tries its first experiments of activity is literally a universe ; the walls, the
oeiling, the table, the chairs, all blending together in a total impression.
216 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §188,
This whole is soon divided into parts. Those objects which are readily
moved, are first separated and viewed apart by a natural and necessary
process ; those which are fixed and stationary are afterward divided to a
limited extent, according to accident or individual caprice, but more com-
monly by certain considerations of convenience, that are universally recog-
nized. The chair, the table, etc., etc., are easily known as separate
objects, because they are often moved, and thus, as it were, broken off
from the* rest of the apartment. At a later period, the floor, the ceiling,
the walls, and other immovable objects are so distinguished as to be
recognized and named as diverse and separate objects.
To accomplish and perfect this work of construction and separation during infancy and
childhood, there is required the repeated application of the attention to distinguish the parts,
and of combination in order to unite them into wholes. In these efforts the mind exerts its
spiritual activity, as is evident from the fact that one mind performs its work far more rapidly
than another, thereby showing that what is perceived depends on the quickness, energy, and
sagacity of the individual. One mind does this with greater perfection than another. Its
discriminations are more subtle, its combinations more exact, and its interpretations more
sagacious, even upon such objects as apples, oranges, chairs, tables, horses, and dogs. These
differences may not appear in the application of the common names of common things, but
the perceptions and the percepts of the two, as mental acts and products, may be very
unequal.
The process which is slowly acquired in infancy and childhood, and with
The same activi- unequal perfection and dissimilar results, is continued in mature life. The
matureUfis!d ^ mm<*» when adult, is governed by the same laws, and follows the same
methods which controlled its processes in infancy. A multitude of objects
every instant solicits its attention. It perceives those, and those only, to which it yields that
attention. It enlarges the circle of its perceptions by those only which it subjects to its
power. Those which necessity, convenience, pleasure, duty, or an active curiosity excite us to
regard, receive our notice, and are soon familiarly known to the mind. But the greater por-
tion of that part of the visible and tangible universe which is within the range of our organs,
is to the majority of men almost entirely unperceived ; it is the unexplored background, against
which the few familiar objects are projected. Out of this material more observant and
curious eyes are continually shaping new creations. But what each perceives is what each
individual so creates and shapes that it carries it away as a permanent image. In this work of
active construction, the intellect is busied, from the first essays of unremembering infancy, to
the most mature and exact observations of unforgetting manhood. It begins this work with
detaining and repeating the perceptions of a single sense. After mastering and securing the
products of each of the senses in their turn, it proceeds to unite them into completed wholes,
fixing and familiarizing the relations of form, of distance, and of relative position, till the
mathematical eye and the mathematical touch are severally perfected, and trained to act in
unison. In this way the perceptions of familiar objects, one by one, are formed and fixed.
They are, at the same time, more clearly distinguished from the perceiving mind itself as the
non-ego. The more compactly they are, so to speak, crystallized into separate existences, the
more sharply are they contrasted with the percipient mind, and the more boldly do they
project into that relief which is possible by the relations of space. These processes are per-
petually repeated till the end of life, greatly facilitated in respect to ease and precision
by the acquisitions of earlier years, but never ceasing to be repeated upon the unwrought
material, which the percipient mind creates while it perceives, and perceives no further than it
creates.
§190. ACTIVITY OF THE SOUL IN SENSE-PERCEPTION. 217
8 189. This activity of mind is more conspicuous in the
Differences in ° . J . . r
special activities diversity of the sense-perceptions which are reached by dif
ferent men as they advance in life, or differ in their employ
ments and culture.
A single general example may illustrate the diversity of perception ir
which all these causes exert their influence. Let two men together inspect
a complicated machine or engine ; let the one be a person of average
knowledge and experience, and the other an accomplished engineer : how
much more will the one perceive in the engine than the other. Before
the practised eye, each separate part takes its appropriate place, being
sharply distinguished from every other, the dividing surfaces and con-
necting members being all discerned at a glance, and all these separate
portions being bound into a complete and symmetrical whole. To the eye
of the uninstructed person, however keen may be his physical vision, there
is neither whole nor parts, but a confused and bewildering impression.
The difference cannot be accounted for by any physical defect or excel-
ienee in the organs of vision, but only by the previous mental and intel-
lectual training. But these do not enable the person to dispense with the
use of the organs of vision. They do not themselves perceive. They
simply direct the use of the organs in such a way that distinct perceptions
are gained by the one person, while of these perceptions the other fails
altogether.
These intellectual conditions are the result of the mind's own energy, and the fact that
they are needed is most convincingly demonstrated by a multitude of similar cases. The sharp
but uninstructed eye of the child or the savage looks out listlessly upon the stars ; the reflect-
ing eye of the astronomer groups them in figures, threads them upon lines, and arrays them in
mystical curves. The mechanic perceives much that every other man overlooks, and the
objects which each mechanic perceives, or, as we say, has an eye for, depend on the particular
trade to which he has been trained. The same is true of the architect and of the painter. It
might, perhaps, be thought that the activity which is exerted in all these cases is an activity of
the fancy, of the memory, and of thought, and that it is improper to speak of it as an activity
of sense-perception. It is true that there is an activity of fancy and memory which attends
and often precedes this special activity of sense. But if the memory and the fancy are first
aroused, their action determines and decides what is perceived by the senses ; it directs and
holds the attention to their appropriate objects, and so enables the mind to master and retain
them as permanent possessions.
ThtSdfditytif" § 19°* "^ follows from these truths, by a necessary inference,
uiatedbythein- that the mind's activity in perception, and its mastery over a
terest felt in the J L *■ . J
object. greater or smaller number of objects, must dejoend very
largely upon the interest which these objects excite. In other words, the
feelings and the character affect the accuracy and the reach, and of course
the permanence of the sense-perceptions. The eye sees and the ear hears
the objects which the soul desires and delights in. It is not easy for the
mind to perceive that which it dislikes to contemplate. On the othei
210 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 192,
hand, the objects which our interests, our profession, and our tastes
prompt us to attend to, we discern with surprising readiness.
The eye that is sharpened by the lust of gain, detects objects and qualities to which the
less interested observer is totally blind. The ear that is quickened by expectation or terror,
can catch the sound of deliverance when all other ears are deaf. The hand that palpitates
with hope or fear, can apprehend delicate monitions of good or evil, which the stranger would
not notice. The living soul, as intellect, sensibility, and will, is present in the acts of every
sense, and largely determines the report which each shall make of the material universe.
What a man is, is exemplified in what he perceives. His tastes, his sense of character, his
moral resolves and aims in life — all these are expressed in the quality and the quantity of the
sense-perceptions which he creates and stores up from the infinitude of wealth which is spread
out before him in the material universe.
8 191. The activity of the soul in sense-perception, it has
This activity is a ° J ■ . . . r _.r
limited and de- already been observed, is a limited activity. The process of
pendent activity. . . ._ . *
sense-perception, m its widest significance, includes passion
and receptivity as well as action and construction. We do not deny the
first when we vindicate the last of these correlated elements. The soul,
cannot, by its creative energy, make that to be a mountain which is a
cloud. It cannot make that to be, which in reality has no existence. It
can, however, judge a mountain to be a cloud, and perceive a cloud when
it might and ought to see a mountain (§ 48). The energy and direction
with which it applies the power of knowing goes very far to determine what
is perceived, how vividly, how perfectly, and how correctly. Nature must
do her part in bringing the objects within the reach of the percipient.
The sentient organism must be in a normal condition to secure the sensa-
tions to which the mind has become familiar, and on which it has been
accustomed to rely in its acquired judgments, as it interprets the signs
which nature presents. But when these conditions and indications are
provided, the mind, by its own activity, determines what it perceives,
whether it perceives vividly or faintly, how completely it masters and
retains the parts of the object, and how correctly it interprets and com-
bines together its elements and indications.
8 192. The activity of sense-perception, though it is an activ-
Is elementary, ° ._. . r , n v, ,
and easily exer- rty of knowledge, is yet the most elementary of all these
activities, and the one which is most easily performed. In
one aspect it is the lowest in the scale in respect to its dignity and dis-
ciplinary value. It is the least intellectual of all the intellectual acts. It
is performed with great ease and with surprising perfection by the infant.
All the manifold processes of combination and judgment which it involves
are executed with the greatest rapidity, at the very earliest age, and by
persons of the least cultivation in the higher discriminations of the intel-
lect, and apparently of the very lowest capacity for such cultivation (cf.
§147). The habits and aptitudes which are the result of these efforts seem
to be more completely controlled by association; to displace and almost to
§ 193. ACTIVITY OP THE SOUL IN SENSE-rERCEPTION. 210
defy reflection more entirely than is true of the higher activities and
applications of the intellect. That some activities and processes of the
intellect are capable of being more readily performed than others, is
an original fact of our being. It can only be accepted as a psychological
fact, which, to our knowledge is ultimate and inexplicable (cf. § 54). But
though this fact cannot be resolved by any higher or more comprehensive
psychical or physical law, it is readily explained by the still higher rela-
tions of adaptation and design (cf. § 612).
SENSE-PERCEPTION : SUMMARY AND REVIEW.
§ 193. (1.) The processes involved in sense-perception, as our analysis has shown, are by
no means simple. The product, when complete in a perceived material object, is in its con-
stituent elements and relations more complex than is usually believed.
"We will briefly review and recapitulate the several steps of the process and the elementa
of the product.
(2.) Sense-perception is an act of knowledge by means of sensations and the sense-organs.
As the term indicates, the act implies two elements, which are distinguished as sensation and
perception ; more exactly as sensation-proper and perception-proper. These are distinguished
in thought, but not separable in fact. The act of consciousness by which we know the process,
separates these elements by an analysis of thought, but connects them by a synthesis of time
relations, as constituting a single and instantaneous psychical state. They are distinguished
in the relation of dependence, but are united as instantaneous in time.
(3.) Sensation, or the sensation-element, is known still further : First, physiologically, as
dependent on the excitement of the sensorium, in whole or in part, by some physical excitant
or object. The sensorium is a collective term for the nervous organism and the sense-organs
conjoined. This organism, animated by the sentient soul, acts as the agent or instrument of
the several sensations. How it is fitted thus to act, we do not know. What there is in its
nature which renders it capable of responding, as it does, to the impressions or excitements
which it suffers, we cannot explain. We know that each class or portion of the sentient
nerves is capable of a special sensation, and so far is idiopathic. In order to produce it, the
excitement or impression must usually be applied to the nerve-endings, in the sense-organs.
A class of exceptions to this rule is found in the effect upon the nervous filaments of electric
and chemical action, of pressure, of certain morbid and abnormal bodily conditions occasion-
ing what are called the subjective sensations of light and sound, and perhaps of taste.
(4.) Second, 'psychologically considered, sensation is a more or less positively pleasant or
painful experience of the soul, as consciously animating and acting with an extended sen-
sorium. The sensations are in this respect sharply distinguished by the soul itself from the
desires which attend them, as well as from the purely spiritual emotions. "When the soul is
said to be conscious of its sensations, consciousness cannot be used in the technical sense of a
direct cognizance of purely spiritual acts or states, but of a direct or intuitive cognizance of
this peculiar experience. It follows that the several sensations, inasmuch as they are expe
rienced by the soul in its connection with the extended sensorium, must be indefinitely but
really separated from each other by distance and place.
(5.) Perception, as an act of the mind, is subjective and objective ; as subjective, it is dis-
tinguished by several steps or processes. As objective, it apprehends some being. The result
is a product, or the object as known.
Subjectively viewed, sense-perception is distinguished as original and acquired^ or simph
and complex, and as direct and reflex. In original or simple perception, the mind knows the
220 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. g 193
single percepts which are appropriate to single organs of sense. In acquired or complex per-
ception, it connects these with one another under a variety of relations. In direct perception,
the relations used are those of extension and diversity ; in indirect, those of likeness, causa-
tion, and design are also employed.
Objectively viewed, perception always knows a material non-ego. But the objects of sim-
ple and complex perception are unlike.
(6.) In simple or original perception, the object is & simple percept — i. e., an extended non-
ego. But the term non-ego is equivocal, being capable of three distinct meanings, correspond-
ing to the three distinguishable egos with which they are contrasted. These are the following :
(1.) The perceiving agent as a pure spirit ; (2.) the percipient agent as a spirit animating an
extended sensorium ; (3.) the individual as spirit, sensorium, and body. The three non-ego»
contrasted with these are : (1.) The sensorium in excited action, distinguished by the soul from
itself as a pure spirit ; (2.) the body perceived as other than the sentient soul — i. e., the soul
as animating the sensorium ; and (3.) the material universe as distinguished from the soul,
sensorium, and body — i. e., from the man as soul and body united.
(7.) In original perception, the object directly apprehended is the sensorium as excited to
some definite action. This is distinguished from the soul as percipient, by the soul's own act
of discrimination. In other words, the ego and non-ego contrasted are the first named above.
This non-ego is the percept appropriate to each of the sense organs.
Some contend that there are but two organs and two forms of direct perception — those
of touch and sight ; the senses of smell, taste, and hearing, giving sensations only.
(8.) Indirect or acquired perception first combines single percepts into material wholes or
objects, by referring them to the same portion of space. The first experiment is made with
the body itself, the perception of which the soul completes, knowing it within and without.
This gives the non-ego in the second sense. Other percepts it proceeds to combine and con-
struct into other bodies, by processes of comparison, measurement, and induction, after the
analogon of the body which the soul inhabits. These are distinguished from the body itself,
giving the non-ego in the third sense, the distances, forms, sizes, etc., being assigned by the
various processes of judgment, which are usually called acts of acquired perception.
(9.) Later still, the intellect knows the percepts thus united as substance and attribute,
when it connects the objects with the sensations which they excite under the relation of
causality, or compares one object with another under the relations of form and dimension. To
do the one, the material object must be compared with the sentient soul, by an act of reflexive
analysis, both being projected into the mind's field of view. To do the other, motion, measure-
ment, and analysis are required to separate length, breadth, size, and form, from the things to
which they pertain. Recognition, generalization, and other acts of the higher intelligence
greatly stimulate and aid this activity, but are not essential to it. Many, not to say all, of
these acts of acquired or indirect perception are acts of natural and unconscious induction,
which, like other such acts, must assume in the objects known adaptation to the mind that
knows them ; in other words, must assume design and order in the universe.
When the material object is known in these elements and relations as a product familiar
to the mind, the process of sense-perception is complete.
(10.) When, moreover, consciousness is so matured as to distinguish the soul's spiritual
acts and emotions from its sensations and their objects, then the non-ego is distinguished from
the ego in the first sense required, and all the relations of matter to the spirit, which are
objects of common observation, are attained and made familiar to the intellect.
(11.) In the process of sense perception the state of the intellect is active, and active
only. It is a form of that knowledge, by which beings and relations are cognized as real.
This activity is intimately allied to the higher processes of which it is the essential condition,
and like them is directed by the emotions and the will, which together with the intellect maky
up the endowments of the conscious soul.
§194. THEOKIES OP SENSE-PERCEPTION. 221
CHAPTER IX.
THEORIES OP SENSE-PERCEPTION
The summary and review with which the preceding chapter concludes, presents in brief the
theory of sense-perception which is taught in this volume. It seems desirable, in con.
nection with it, to give a brief historical survey of the several theories which have been
held by others. Such a sketch will prepare the student to understand the difficulties of
the subject, as well as to appreciate the successive advances which have been made toward
an explanation of the very difficult problem which these theories have undertaken to solve.
It may also be useful in preventing the reader from too readily accepting the materialistic
and physiological solutions which are urged so confidently as being the latest and the
most satisfactory. The history of the earlier speculations serves to show that these solu-
tions are neither so recent nor so rational as their advocates contend.
§ 194. All philosophers have undertaken to give some theory or explanation
lese theories of the perceptions of sense. These perceptions are among the most striking
Live . and interesting of all phenomena, and would naturally attract the attention of
all inquisitive minds. They vary in uniformity with the changing condition
of the bodily organs, and of the objects and media with which these organs are concerned.
For this reason, men of philosophic tastes would be prompted to devise some theory to explain
how and why these perceptions so often change.
It is not strange that these explanations have always been derived from the
Determined by generally received opinions or philosophical theories concerning the forces
philosophy. ' and laws of nature, and the powers and laws of the human soul. As the
sciences of nature and of the soul have been continually changing, one theory
of sense-perception has given place to another. False or defective theories of nature and the
soul have, by a necessary consequence, involved false or insufficient explanations of the pro-
cesses of sense-perception.
On the other hand, erroneous theories of sense-perception have, by a reflex
Their reflex in- influence, affected to a very large extent the philosophy of the soul. It is
fluence often
mischievous. natural that it should be so. The acts and instruments of sense-perception
are the first to attract attention, and to challenge and receive some sort of
explanation. The explanation given to these processes would naturally be extended to the
other and higher activities. The conditions and laws of sense-perception would readily be
taken as the types of all the intellectual processes. Whatever theory were adopted in respect
to the nature of sight and hearing, would be extended to memory and the imagination. It is
not surprising, therefore, that these theories have occupied so large a place and exerted so
powerful an influence in the history of psychology and of speculative philosophy.
Theories of sense-perception are especially liable to be erroneous, from the
Why especially circumstance that they involve so many elements. The processes are them-
roneous. selves most complicated, involving, as they do, corporeal and psychical
agencies. The corporeal element is in part material, and requires a correct
knowledge of matter, and the distinction between that which is organized and living, and that
which is inorganic and dead. In order fully to understand the processes of sense-perception,
we must know their conditions or media ; this involves a correct, if not a complete, knowledge
of such agents as light and sound. A grossly erroneous theory of either might vitiate our
theory of the psychological processes of sight and hearing. The scientific knowledge of these
222 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §195*
agents and their laws includes assumptions both mathematical and metaphysical, which may be
correct and complete, or erroneous and defective.
The instruments of sense-perception are the bodily organs ; and to understand these organs
we must not only have a correct theory of the living organism, but also of its relations to the
rational soul. The psychical element in perception is also complex. The consideration of
perception as a special act or kind of knowledge, requires some just views of knowledge in
general. A serious error in respect to this fundamental point would, by a logical necessity,
involve mistake or defect in respect to every form of knowledge. The element of feeling ia
also present in sense-perception in what is called bodily sensibility, the correct theory of which
involves just views of the nature of feeling in general, and of the relation of feeling to knowl-
edge. Any theory concerning a process which involves so many elements is necessarily exposed
to error. That which we should expect would be true, we find made real in fact. In the
various theories of sense-perception which are so prominent in the history of philosophy, the
errors and defects are to be traced to some false assumption or oversight in physics, physi-
ology, or metaphysics, or in all these sciences combined.
Theories of sense-perception are, to a great extent, theories of vision. This
More usually is not surprising. The phenomena of vision are the most prominent in our
ion. experience, and the most attractive to our attention. The organs of vision
are more complicated than those of any other sense, and at the same time
more easily separated into their component parts. The necessity and the functions of some
of these parts are obvious to the most casual observer. Every question which can be asked in
respect to any of the perceptions, presents itself in connection with the phenomena of vision ;
so that a correct theory of vision would necessarily be a correct theory of sense-perception in
general. As might be expected, the theories of sense-perception which are recorded in the
history of philosophy, are, for the most part, theories of vision, and the illustrations and
examples of the power of sense-perception, its actings and its laws, are almost universally
drawn from the power of seeing with the eye.
§ 195. "We begin with, the theories of the earlier Greek philosophers. In these there
is very little to interest or instruct us, except as they serve to illustrate the causes
•nh'l 6f) L " °^ error' an<* *° show us the beginnings and germs of almost every one of the false
theories which deform and mislead modern speculation. These are all alike, in not
sharply distinguishing the soul from the body, and scarcely from inorganic matter, in
respect either of essence or functions. The first effort of philosophy was to resolve all agents and all phe-
nomena—beginning with those most obviously material and mechanical, and terminating with the most
spiritual and free— into some single element, as original and all-pervading. "Whether all spirit was in
effect resolved into matter (as by Democrilus and the Atomists), or all matter was sublimated into spirit
(as it seemed to be by Diogenes of Apollonia), the elements of each were the same in essence, and the
differences in operation and phenomena were matters of combination and degree.
One of the best examples of the current modes of explaining the phenomena of sense-
perception is furnished in the theory of Diogenes of Apollonia. The soul, according to
Ano^fonia ° bim' is a more highly refined, drier, and warmer air or vapor, differing from other
agents and beings in this only, that its element is purer than theirs. Sensation and
sense-perception occur when outward objects set in motion the organs of sense, and,
through them, the air which, as the soul, pervades every part of the body. This explanation, in princi-
ple, does not differ from that of those modern psychologists who resolve sense-perception into vibrations
of material agents without, which excite finer and quicker vibrations in the nervous organism, the charac-
ter of the sensation being conceived to depend on the frequency and rapidity of these vibrations. (Cf.
LocJce, L. George, J. D. Morell, A. Bain, etc.)
Heraclitus accounts for sensuous knowledge by making the inner fire of the soul to
unite with, or, in modern language, to respond to the outer fire of the universe. This
Heraclitus and explanation is but a consistent application of the general assumption that fire is the
'inpe oc es. original element in all forms of being. Heraclitus was more conspicuous as a meta-
physical philosopher than as a psychologist.
Empedocles of Agrigentum is worthy of notice, for two or three reasons. lie was the first, according
H> Hitter, who introduced the distinction between sensuous and divine knowledge— who taught that tha
impressions of sense must be corrected by the notions of reason. It was an axiom with him in explaining
§196.
THEORIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 223
sensuous knowledge, that like can only be known by its like. This assumption pervades the great major*
ity of the theories of perception down to the present moment ; and, as we have seen, it is with the great-
est difficulty that the mind can rid itself of its influence. (Cf. Hamilton, Works of Beid, p. 300, note.)
In conformity with this view, he seeks to show that sense-perception can only be explained by our knowl-
edge of the composition of the body perceived, and of the forces which act upon it. The objects of sense
send off certain effluxes, dn-oppoicu, from their surface, whiclr.pass into the human body through pores
[provided in the several organs]. The blood in the vicinity of the heart constitutes the human intellect ;
and in whatever part of the body this blood is properly mixed and refined, there is superior skill and dex-
terity, as in the hand of the mechanic, and in the tongue of the orator.
Vision is explained by Empedocles (cf. Aristotle, De Sensu), in his poem on the Nature of Things,
by the doctrine that the eye is composed of fire, the noblest of the four elements— if, indeed, Empedocles
did not hold that fire was the master-element. Fire produces vision by radiating from the eye, as light is
emitted from a lantern. The reason that this fire is not extinguished, is that it is defended by the watery
coats of the eye, which act like the sides or walls of the lantern.
Democritus was the first conscious and avowed materialist, resolving, as he did, all the
different kinds of being, with their phenomena, into combinations of atoms, differing in
Democritus. size and shape. He taught that the soul differs from the body, by being composed oi
finer particles, constituting, as it were, a finer body inclosed by the grosser and the cor-
poreal. All sense-perceptions are occasioned by contact. In modern phrase, all the
senses are resolved into the sense of touch. That which is brought in contact with the soul is not, how-
ever, the material object; but its eiSwAov, or image, being detached from its surface, reaches the soul by
passing through the pores of the organ of sense. The elSwAov and the a7roppo»j were nearly the same,
unless the an-opporj was used to emphasize the material element, and the cifiwAov that which is subjective
and spiritual. The nature and signification of either do not seem to have been held with greater intelli-
gence and precision in earlier times than the corresponding terms [as image, representation, species] and
conceptions are employed and understood in modern philosophy. At one time they were used in a sig-
nification simply and grossly material ; at another, as the product of the combined activity of the spirit-
ual and material. (Cf. Ritter, vol, i. F». vi. c. ii., note.)
From Democritus, Epicurus borrowed the notion of effluxes, simulacra rerum, which he conceived in
the grossest form — viz., that they "are like pellicles flying off from objects ; and that these material like-
nesses, diffusing themselves everywhere" in the air, are propagated to the perceptive organs. In the
words of Lucretius : " Quse, quasi membranse, summo de corpore rerum dereptse volitant ultro citroque per
auras."
It does not follow, however, because the surface, or its elSwXov, must always be touched in sense-por-
ception, that its form and size, or the form and size of its particles (in modern phrase, space-attributes or
relations), are what are perceived. "What is perceived through the contact of an el'SwAov, of certain par-
ticles, are not these atoms, or their space-relations, but a semblance or subjective result which they give ;
c. g., the white which we see in its eiSo>Aoi> is simply a smooth surface, and the black is a rough surface.
Yet these surfaces, as seen by us, are seen as white and black.
§ 196. The philosophers of the Socratic school [Plato and Aristotle] recognized the
doctrines of their predecessors to some extent, either to expand or refute them. They
The Socratic made important additions to the philosophy of previous times in respect to the theory
of sense-perception, as well as to the doctrines of general philosophy. The doctrines
of Aristotle and Plato, and even the terms which they employed, can be traced among
philosophers of every age since their time ; and they still reappear and exert their influence among the
most recent schools. Aristotle especially gave the law to the schoolmen, from whose teachings the modern
theories have retained many traditions. Plato is still appealed to and quoted by his admirers for his elo-
quent and just psychological discriminations, even in respect to the theory of sense-perception.
Plato taught very distinctly and emphatically, especially in his Theatetus, that sensa-
tion [proper] is an effect jointly produced by the force, motion, or action (<£opa) of
Plato. the material object and the sentient agent, and that it varies, of course, with this joint
activity ; that the sensations of no two sentient beings need necessarily be the same,
under the same material conditions at the same time ; and that the sensations of the
6ame being, from the same object at different times, need not be the same, but may vary very greatly.
Sense-knowledge, aio-flijcri?, is therefore untrustworthy, illusive, and, it may be, deceptive. "With this he
contrasts the higher kind of knowledge, r\ emo-rynr), viz., that which is rational and intellectual— the
knowledge of ideas, or of objects in their ideas. Thi3 knowledge, in its subjective character, is certain
and satisfactory ; in its objects it is permanent and fixed. These views were not matured by Plato into
a detailed scientific theory, nor have the Platonists ever succeeded in thus perfecting them. The great
deficiency of these theories has been, that they have omitted to explain how this changing and in pari
subjective material [the sensation proper] is related to that which is fixed and trustworthy [the perception
proper]. They have therefore served rather to excite inquiries, than to meet and answer them.
In the Timseus, Plato uses the similes, if he does not adopt the theory of Empedocles, and explains
the process of vision by the excitement of the fiery nature of the eye by the fiery nature of visible objects.
224 • THE HUJIAH INTELLECT. § 196.
Whether lie intended this as a gravely-held physical or physico-physiological doctrine, or as a mythical ol
lymbolical assertion, it may not he easy to decide.
Aristotle urges against this doctrine of Plato and Empedocles, that vision cannot he
produced hy the radiation of light from the eye ; that, if it were true, we could see in
Aristotle. the darkness, without the aid or instrumentality of the light. Against the view that it
is caused by influences or emanations that stream forth from visible objects, he insists
that such an agency would require an appreciable period of time for effective action.
Against the assumption that had been accepted in many of the theories that were propounded before his
time, he urges that there are but four elements, while there are five senses ; and it cannot therefore be
true that each sense-organ consists of a single element. He does not, however, wholly reject the doctrine
of Empedocles, that like can only be perceived by its like ; for he concedes that each one of the senses is,
in its elementary constitution, akin to the element which it perceives— water being the chief element in
vision, the air in hearing, the sun or fire in smell, the earth in touch and in taste. In critically examining
the theories which had been held before him, and setting aside much in them that was untenable, Aris-
totle rendered a very important service to the psychology of the senses.
"We find in Aristotle also the beginnings of the attempt to consider apart and to distinguish the intel-
lectual act of perceiving on the one hand, and the physical conditions or media by which objects are
actually perceived.
In respect to vision, he made a great advance upon his predecessors, in teaching that visible objectr-
do not act directly upon the eye of the percipient, but through a transparent agent or medium. When
this medium is in action, there is light ; when it is inert or at rest, there is darkness. When mixed with
opaque substances, as in material objects, there is color. In the eye, this medium must be present as the
condition of vision ; because the light, being the active condition or state of the medium, can occur in no
place where the medium is not present. Vision cannot be a result of fire within united to fire without,
but a result of the excited medium without, which is propagated to the medium within. This medium,
which conditionates the light, exists more commonly in the form of water, and also in the form of air.
How nearly the doctrine of Aristotle approximates to the modern theory, that light depends on the undu-
lations of an invisible ether, will be readily recognized.
Aristotle taught, also, a doctrine of the refraction of light. Of this refraction the transparent medium
spoken of is susceptible when it appears as water and air. Refraction weakens the light, and color
results. This refraction occurs within the substance of the eye as really as elsewhere ; but Aristotle
ascribed no agency to this refraction in the production of the images of external objects. There is no
evidence that he knew of the image upon the retina.
Indeed, in respect to the construction of the eye, he made little advance upon his predecessors, and
knew little or nothing of the discoveries made by modern anatomy and physiology. The only observation
which he records is scarcely worth noticing. It was, that the eye can produce light within itself— i.e., be
the recipient or product of subjective sensations (De Insomn. c. 2, 3). This phenomenon he accounts for
by asserting that the eye can divide itself into two parts, one of which is the producer, and the other the
recipient of the light.
The other senses require a medium as truly as does vision. The medium is in every case set in
motion or brought into action by the perceived object, and is tiius made capable of acting upon the
appropriate sense. It would seem, at first, that in the case of touch no medium is required, but the
percipient is itself the body or flesh. More careful observation shows that, as the perception [sensation)
varies with the changing condition of the flesh, the flesh must, as the medium, be distinguishable from the
percipient, notwithstanding that they coincide in occupying the same space.
In respect to the construction and offices of the remaining organs of sense, Aristotle taught little
that is worth reciting. The ear is the organ of sound, because it encloses air, which is immovable unless
it be agitated by exoitement from without. The organs of both touch and taste are in the region of the
heart ; and as smell is nearly allied to taste, the same is true of this sense.
All perceivable objects are extended, but their essence, as perceivable, does not consist in their being
extended, but in a certain relation or proportion which they bear to the percipient. The extended object
has the power to act in a particular way, and the percipient, in like manner, the capacity to be acted
upon ; the joint product or result of their coaction is the perception. This product varies indefinitely,
according as each related term varies— i.e., as is the relation of the one term to the other. But the direct
and proper object of the perception is not the extended object as such, but the sensation which result*
from the joint action spoken of.
Objects, to be perceived, must have a proper size, neither too small nor too great.
In respect to the intellectual element in sense-perception, the element which we have
,_ . . ,, . 1 called the discernment, or the discrimination, of relations, Aristotle is not clear and
element. explicit. Now, he asserts that in perception, neither truth nor error are possible, but
that these can only pertain to the higher powers of the soul. Again, he calls the power
a judging faculty. The phenomena and products of sense-perception, he shows most
clearly, have an element which does not pertain to the purely and properly intellectual powers; but ho
does not explain the element which both have in common. In this he gave the example for the confusion
§ 197 THEORIES OP SENSE-PERCEPTION. 225
and defect of clearness which have prevailed from that day to the present. On the other hand, he asserts
most clearly, and gives great prominence to the fact, that the objects of sense are individual, while thoso
of the intelligence proper are general. This distinction is of the greatest importance. In seeming, how-
ever, to limit the functions of the intellect to the apprehension of general objects only, he apparently left
no place for the action of the intelligence in perceiving objects of sense.
Aristotle held that there is a common percipient or sensory, by which the several sen-
The common or sations are measured, judged, and united together-. Each separate sense apprehends its
sensory percipi- owa object, as the eye color, and the ear sound ; and each apprehends or discerns its
cut. object correctly. That which is common to all objects are these five : motion, rest,
number, size, and form. The seat of this common sensory or common percipient, is
the heart. This power combines and separates the percepts appropriate to the several senses, and pre-
pares them, so to speak, for the phantasy and the memory, both of which are activities of the common
percipient. The rational soul, the Nous, apprehends the general and the permanent. As contrasted with
this Nous, i. e., the higher or the rational being, that which is properly the active energy, all the lower and
antecedent powers are collectively called the passive or the affective. In many of these distinctions Aris-
totle fixed the divisions and definitions not only for the schoolmen, but for modern psychology.
The doctrine that objects are not themselves perceived, but their species or perceptible
forms, was initiated by Aristotle (De An., B. ii. c. 12). As the wax receives only the
Matter and form, impression or image from the device on a seal-ring, and not its matter, it making no
difference whether the ring is gold or iron, so is the perception by each of the senses.
What is received, is not the matter of the object perceived, but that which it effects in
conjunction with or in relation to the percipient. This is its form— to elSos, species. What was intended
by this form, was variously interpreted by the Greek commentators, Simplicius and Themistius contend-
ing that the percipient is the bodily organ, which received a corporeal impression ; and Alexander Aphro-
disiensis and John Philiponus that it was a mental power, which, by perceiving, gained a mental impres-
sion or form. The last were doubtless in the right. (Cf. Hamilton's very valuable Notes, Works of Reid,
pp. 827, 881 ; Metaphysics, Lee. xxi. vol. ii. pp. 36, 37, 38 ; Am. ed., pp. 292, 293.)
The distinction between matter and form or species, was transmitted, through the successors of Aris-
totle, to the schools of the Middle Ages, and became an hereditary and perpetual text for controversies
and discussions, not only in respect to the nature and validity of the sense-perceptions, but of the objects
and processes of our higher knowledge. These controversies have not yet terminated, nor have the terms
over which they have been fought been laid aside. Matter and form are as fresh and living as ever in
some of the modern schools.
§ 197. The most of the schoolmen retained in substance the distinctions and the doc-
trines of Aristotle, making such advances upon them as were to be expected from
The schoolmen. active disputants and well-trained dialecticians, who employed their energies almost
exclusively in defining more precisely what they supposed their great master intended,
or in devising new inferences from the materials and data which he furnished. They
discovered no new facts hitherto unobserved, and made no new definitions or discriminations either on the
physiological or the psychological sides of sense-perception.
The schoolmen were not exclusively the followers of Aristotle. They were influenced more or less by
the doctrines and the terminology of Plato.
In respect to the medium of perception, they held, in general, with Aristotle, that such a medium is
required for every act of perception, both when the object is in immediate contact with the organ of sense,,
and when it is not, but seems to be in contact with it.
In respect to the organ of sense-perception, their views did not differ materially from his. They had
a better knowledge of the parts of the eye, but no acquaintance with the image formed upon the retina,
nor of 'the facts or laws of refraction and reflection. Of the constitution of the other organs they knew
still less.
The doctrine of the necessity and agency of species in sense-perception was prominent
in the theory of the schoolmen, and their views may be summed up in the following
Their doctrine propositions : Objects are not and cannot be directly and immediately perceived, but
only their species. The reasons given were the following: The object often is plainly
not in contact with the sentient organ. It is also in its nature unlike the sensitive soul,
and therefore cannot affect it. Every thing known must be in the knowing agent ; but it is impossible
that this should be true of the object. It can only be true of its species. Experience, moreover, provea
that the image or species only is perceived. "When a stick is thrust into the water, it is seen to be bent or
broken. A change in the medium changes the object perceived. Our perceptions of the same object vary
at different times.
But the species is not a material entity or efflux. At least, it was not so regarded by the mor$ pro-
found and intelligent. It was scarcely possible, however, that it should not be treated as a material
entity, and so have prepared the way for the grosser doctrines of the intermediate representative image.
The species is not perceived, but only the object through or by means of the species. And yet the epe«
"ies so far forth represents the object, that when it acts upon the organs cf sense, it moves or excites th*
15
226 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §199
percipient to discern, by its means, the object itself. Some of tbc schoolmen taught that these species
had some spatial relations — that they existed in every part of space, bridging over, by a continuous series,
the interval between, or binding together the object and the sentient.
The species directly produced was called species intentionalis, or intentional species. Of these there
were as many of any single material object as there are separate sense-organs, each species being appro-
priate to and dependent upon the joint action of the organ and the object. They were called intentional,
because by means of them the mind tends or reaches directly toward or to its object. " Appellator aulem-
intentionalis quia per ipsam sensus tendit in objectum." Er. Eustachii Summa Phil, quadripartite/. '•'•Ac per
medium trajicientes tetenderint, ex quo etiam vulgo intcntionales appellantur." Gassendi, Be Sensu, p. 337,
ed. 1C58. " Ut proinde intelligamus turn suo fungi munere sensum, cum agit, seu intenditur in rem objectam
eamque ccgnoscit." Gassendi, De Sensu, 329. As the intentional species were present to the first or direct
perceptions, a second species, the species sensatx, or species of the second intention, were present to the
common sense, the fancy, and memory, each of which had its species, and all of which prepared the
rational intellect to construct the species intelligibiles, which are the last attainment of the higher intellect,
and are alone the objects of our higher and valid knowledge. A difference was made between the species
impresses and the species expresses. The species impressse were material and sensible, so called because they
were impressed by objects upon the external senses. They become intelligible by the elaboration of fhe
active intellect, and are thus prepared to be received by the passive intellect. They are called expressss
because they are expressed from the impressed species, and it is by the species expressse that the passive
intellect knows external objects (cf. Malebranche, Search after Truth, B. iii. part 2, chap. 2).
A few among the schoolmen rejected the doctrine of sensible and of intelligible species. Among the
most conspicuous was "William of Occam, who was led, by the boldness with which he urged the doctrines of
the Nominalists, to reject also the doctrine of sensible species. His doctrine was expressed in the follow
ing thesis : " In sensu exteriori, sive accipiatur pro organo, sive pro potentia, non imprimuniur aliquse species
necessario prseviee primes sensationu" (Cf. Haureau, De la Phil. Scholastique ; Rousselot, Etudes sur la
Philosophic dans le moyen age; Summa Philosophix quadripartila a Er. Eustachio d Sanct. Paulo; H.
Hitter, Gcschichte der christl. Philosophic)
§ 198. Erom the schoolmen to the moderns, Gassendi represents the transition period.
He dared to question and to break from the authority of Aristotle, and the opinions
159^-1655 "' receive(l by tradition from him. On many points in psychology he follows Epicurus,
but not so far as to deny the spiritual nature or the essential immortality of the soul.
In respect of sense-perception, he taught the scholastic theory, except that he rejected
the doctrine of species in all its forms, after a careful discussion.
§ 199. It was Descartes, however, who made a permanent inroad upon the philosophy
of the scholastics, and introduced the modern science of psychology. He prepared the
HqS^jlf -(f' "K"' way f°r tne distinctions and discussions in respect to sense-perception which have
played so important a part in modern speculation. The doctrines of Descartes which
we need to notice are the following :
1. Descartes drew a sharply-defined line between spirit and matter in respect to both essence and
phenomena, and of course distinguished clearly between the soul and the body.
Previous to his time, the soul was regarded as the crown and consummation of the body. Those
who held to the spirituality and immortality of the spiritual being, asserted a separate and separable nature
only for the vovs, or the higher soul. Many had taught that this higher nature was a distinct substance
from the lower; that the rational soul was a distinct being from the vegetative, sensitive, and fantastical,
all of which were supposed to be so far functions of or dependent on the body, as to perish with it.
Descartes, on the other hand, was the first to teach that spirit, in all its modes of being, is distinct
from matter, and is proved to be such by its peculiar and distinctive phenomena. The essence of matter
is extension ; the essence of spirit is thought. He asserted that we have a clearer and more certain
knowledge of the existence of spirit than of that of matter. Of the first, we are directly conscious. "We
cannot doubt that we think, for, in the very act of doubting, we think. Concerning matter, it is possible
to suppose that there is no reality corresponding to our ideas (cf. Meditationcs, etc.).
This doctrine of Descartes opened the way for an entire separation between matter and spirit, and, in
consequence, for doubt or uncertainty in respect to the validity or trustworthiness of sense-perception.
It allows us to raise the question, or rather it forces us to ask, How can we be certain that our sense-per-
ceptions deserve to be trusted at all ? how can we discriminate between those which are trustworthy and
those which are not ?
2. All the affections of the body, being phenomena of matter (of which the essence is extension), can
qnly be resolved into positions and motions of its parts in space. Hence all those changes in the organs
of sense by which we perceive must be changes in the relative positions of their parts. Such changes are
wrought by the action of the external object on the organ, and are taken by the spirit as the signs or indi-
cations of attributes of external objects. "Whatever these attributes are, whether sounds, smells, tastes,
touches, or sights, they are only known to the spirit by the changes which they effect in the parts of the
organ of sense. They are knowablc and arc known by the motions and positions which are conveyed
from these organs to the brain.
§199.
THEORIES OF SENSE-PEECEPTION. 227
3. The medium by which they are conveyed was held to be the animal spirits. These were a highly
subtle fluid, invisible to the eyes and imperceptible by any of the senses, which were supposed to b«
secreted from the blood, either by the glands, the liver, the heart, or the brain, and to be so mobile and
expansible as readily to fill all the vessels and passages of the body. By the animal spirits the body is
nourished, the life is maintained, motion is imparted, and sense-perception is performed. They serve a3
the instrument of sensation, by producing in the brain [conveying] changes corresponding to those occa-
sioned in the Organs of sense by the action of the object perceived. "When these changes are thus con-
veyed or produced, the body has done all its work preparatory to the sense-perceptions of the soul. This
work of preparation being done, the soul perceives.
But the soul does not, by a second or internal sense-perception, apprehend the last of these series oi
mechanical changes wrought in the brain, as though the soul were endowed with another interior appa-
ratus of sense. How it becomes aware of these changes in the brain is not explained by Descartes ; nor
how, when these changes are made known to it, they serve as indications or signs of qualities in material
objects. Descartes never asserted, as did some of his disciples, that these changes served as representative
ideas— that in vision, the image on the retina, or its results' on the brain, served as a copy or reflected pic-
ture, which was compared with the object itself. On the other hand, he held to the doctrine of a repre-
sentative idea, in the sense that, on occasion of the apprehension of these changes, the mind had sense-
perceptions of objects. As the schoolmen held that ly or through the several species, the soul perceived
objects, so he held that through or on occasion of these mechanical changes, excited and propagated
through the corporeal machine, the soul apprehended the objects of which these were the indications or
signs. John Baptist Porta first discovered, in 1583, that the eyeball is a camera obscura, but he thought
the lens received the image. Kepler corrected the error, in 1604, by showing that the retina formed th/?
image. Scheiner, in 1652, was the first to take the coat from the back part of the eyeball of several ani-
mals, and to show sharply-drawn images actually depicted on the retina. Descartes was bom 1596, and
died 1650.
It ought never to be forgotten, that the body is regarded by Descartes simply as acting like a machine
in all its functions, even those of sense and motion. Indeed, he calls it a perfectly contrived machine, and
insists that all its most subtle processes, even those most withdrawn from the possibility of direct inspec-
tion, might be fully explained by a finer arrangement of mechanical powers. In entire consistency with
this view, he contends that animals are nothing more nor better than machines, and are incapable of any
psychical experiences or processes. As soon, however, as the rational soul, -whose essence is thought, is
united with the body or the man-machine {homo machina), it uses its mechanical adjustments as instru-
ments of sense and motion. It connects one sensation with another, by means of the contemporaneous
occurrence of the bodily motions appropriate to each. "When a part of the body is bruised or burned, it
learns to apply the requisite motions, beginning in the brain, and reaching in a series to the parts affected,
which ensure its withdrawment from the offending cause. By the arrangement and extent of these brain
changes do we judge of the size, distance, position, and other attributes of external objects of which they
are the indications. "We see one object with two eyes, just as we touch one object with two sticks ; the
apprehended motions in the brain, (serving a similar office to the double muscular sensations with which
we hold the two sticks), make the two sticks feel one object. But it is not explained how the soul is capable
of knowing the last movements of the machine, or how it reads the index in the brain. It is true,
Descartes supposed the seat of the soul to be a small gland in the midst of a small cavity at the centre of
the brain. To the plexus of tubes and interstices which constitute the walls of this cavity, the animal
spirits bring the last changes which correspond to each sense-perception of material objects, and by the
changes effected in these walls they carry the orders of the soul. " Hanc glandulam esse sedem animz
primarium atque organum imaginations sensusque communis." Renati Cartesii Tract, de Horn. But
though the cavity is represented as " a presence-chamber" — and it would seem as though the soul, from
its central seat of observation, must gaze upon the reports or images that are pictured so rapidly upon its
walls— yet this is not the doctrine of Descartes. True to his principles concerning the nature of spirit,
he asserts that, as it occupies no space, and its modes have no relation whatever to the modes of extended
matter, the connection between the two is the result of the simple appointment of the Creator. All that
we know is, that with these motions of the bodily machine the perceptions and movements of the spirit are
connected.
4. All sensations are purely spiritual affections, being, in his language, " modes of thinking," or of
thought, which, in its nature, has no relation whatever to extension. The sensation of pain which wo
refer to the foot, is simply in the mind ; the sensation of color which we refer to an external object, is in
the mind only ; it is neither in the eye nor in the picture to which we ascribe it.
That we refer these sensations to such objects, or locate them in any part of the body, is the result
of the habit of confused thinking which we contract in early life, and of the prejudices and associations
which arise at that period. But when we resolve our knowledge into clear and distinct ideas, we find theso
opinions to be false, and that our sensations properly belong to the mind alone.
5. The soul, in its sensations, is purely and simply passive ; even in its inclinations and desires, which
•re functions of the will, it is passive.
6. The diversity in the qualities of the sensations is owing to the diverse motions of the body whicl
228 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 199
occasion them. They are painful, when the fibres of the muscles and other organs are irregularly moved
and strained. Pleasure attends their easy and harmonious action. These are stated as general facts,
which are derived as inferences from assumed principles. Why one kind of motion or action should give
^ain, and another pleasure, is not explained.
7. Besides the inherent capacity of the soul to know its own affections, and its superadded power ot
becoming apprised of the affections of matter through the motions of the body, Descartes taught that
the soul is also furnished with innate knowledge or beliefs : such as the belief that God exists, and i3
all-perfect; that every quality belongs to a substance, and every event is produced by a cause. The
criterion of truth and falsehood was thus assumed : Clear ideas we know to be true : Ideas that arc
confused, are false. By the application of these axioms and this criterion, several problems or questions
m respect to sense-perception were readily solved.
8. The perception of extension by the soul is not explained in respect to its subjective process or its
objective elements. It seems to have been included by him in the assertion of the soul's divinely-given
power to know matter, that it should know its relationsto extension. That these ideas are real, is shown
by this, that they are the clearest and the most distinct of any.
9. Material objects are known as external to the soul by the following process : The soul finds itself
affected with certain sensations, or modes of thought.. They are known not to be caused by the soul's
own agency. Under the axiom that they must be referred to a cause, the mind believes in the existence
of material objects as the external causes of its own sensations.
It would seem, however, that this process would only give negative knowledge to the mind, or the belief
that there are existences which are not spiritual. We must suppose that the mind already knows extended
being with its relations to space, in order that it may conclude that their non-ego is also extended.
10. We confide in the indications of the senses, because we believe that God is too good a being to
allow us to be deceived, or to bring objects before our senses in such a way as to make deception possible.
That God is good, we know with innate certainty. Hence we confide in the truth that the ideas of sense
correspond to the reality of things. In this confidence we reject the suggestion that all that we seem to
perceive is only an unreal show. "When we occasionally fall into error, it is because we do not heed the
monitions and correctives which the Deity has provided.
These are the principal doctrines of Descartes. They contain the germs of the most important
truths and the seeds of the most pernicious errors and oversights of modern psychology. As Descartes
deserves the praise of having given being and form to this science in its modern phases, he also must bear
the reproach of having opened the way for the mistakes and defects which have retarded its rapid growth
and hindered its healthy development. There is scarcely a theory of senserperception in which some
erroneous assumption of Descartes may not be traced, and which has not wrought some influence for evil.
Geulincx, a distinguished disciple of the school of Descartes, applied one of his funda-
mental doctrines as follows : Inasmuch as the essence of matter is extension, and the
Gculhicx, 1G25- essence of spirit is thought, it follows that one of these agents can in no way act upon
1899. the other, neither matter in imparting sense-perceptions to spirit, nor spirit in giving
motion to matter. In every instance in which either sensation or motion occur, the
Deity must intervene by direct agency, and produce the effect. Inasmuch, however, as, in the order of
actual events, sensation and motion always occur in connection with a material object, or a precedent
spiritual impulse, or, in other words, as, in fact, every perception recuires some form of extension, and
vice-versd, each holds to the other the relation of an occasional cause — i. e., each is the constant occasion
on which the Deity exerts His active energy.
Leibnitz, at a period somewhat later, reasoned as follows : Matter and spirit cannot act upon each
other, it is true ; but it is unworthy of God to suppose that He interferes on every occasion in which a mode
of one coincides with a mode of the other. Therefore God has arranged from eternity a presstablishcd
harmony, according to which the one never occurs without the other.
Malebranche applied these assumptions in the following manner : Matter and spirit are
in no way related. In perception, the spirit does not perceive the material object, but
lGSS-ulo10"16' ideas of it. These ideas are not the substantial forms of the schoolmen, nor material
effluxes proceeding from matter. In sense is perpetual error. These errors can only be
corrected by the higher power of intelligence. This higher power discerns intelligible
ideas which are true and trustworthy. These ideas are not originated by the spirit's own creative act. They
are not produced by the occasional intervention of the Deity. But they must be seen as they are in the
mind of, or in relation to their real essence in, God. The favorite and peculiar doctrine of Malebranche
was, that " the soul sees all things in God."
In the support of this doctrine, he not merely used the cardinal assumptions of Descartes, but devel-
oped a complete theory of sense-perception with far greater distinctness and detail than any of his predeces-
sors, and did more to give direction and form to the modern theories than even Locke himself. These modern
theories owe very much to Malebranche, for making one or two of the most important distinctions, as well
:ib for confirming one or two very serious errors. The distinctions which he introduced are the following: .
1. He distinguished, in sense-perception, the element of sensation from the element of judgment. 01
the four different elements {Recherche de la VerM, Liv. i. chap. x. § 6 ; chap. vii. § 4 ; chap. xiv. § 3), which
§ 200. THEORIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 22?
he says occur in almost every sensation, and are confounded by most persons, but which it ie most impor-
tant to distinguish ; the third and fourth are the following : the sensation, or subjective state of the soul,
as of warmth; and the judgment which the soul makes that this warmth is in the hand or in the fire.
"This judgment is natural, or rather, it is only a compound or complex sensation "— " ou plulot ce n'est
qiCune sensation composee." This natural judgment is usually followed by another judgment which is free,
but which the soul, through the force of habit, makes with the utmost rapidity. In support of the asser-
tion, that into every sensation tbere enters the element of judgment, he urges the cases of judgment in
what are now called the acquired perceptions, as when we judge of the distance and size of a visible object.
Bat it was a great point to have gained, to distinguish the intellectual and sensational element at all.
2. Malebranche comes very near to a proper recognition of the distinction between the conditions oi
sensation [sense-perception] and the act itself; and among these conditions themselves he makes a distinc-
tion. The first two of the four elements already referred to are the action of the object (in the case oi
warmth) on the fibres of the hand ; the second, the resulting motion in the hand, and through the body in
the brain. These two elements of the complex state belong to the body; the last two, to the soul.
The errors of Malebranche are the following : 1. While he distinguishes so clearly between the con-
ditions of the sense-perceptions and the sense-perceptions themselves, assigning the one to matter and tha
other to the soul, he fails entirely m asserting for the soul an inherent power to know the properties and re-
lations of matter ; because of the Cartesian assumption that there* is and can be no relation between the two.
2. The explanations by which he accounts for the processes of natural judgment, according to which
the soul's snbjective sensations are referred to the parts of the body, and to objects without the body, are all
inadequate and unsatisfactory. The fact only is asserted, that the soul, in its sensations, also judges ; but
by what methods or upon what criteria or grounds, is not explained. The natural judgments [and
acquired] of sense are treated as having no relation to the judgments of pure intelligence. The first are
treated as always confused, illusive, and untrustworthy. The last only are regarded as true, by virtue oi
the relation of their objects to God.
3. Malebranche accepts the doctrine, that it is only through ideas that we can apprehend material ob-
jects, and thereby denies that we can know such objects as they are. He gives various reasons to show that
these intermediate ideas are necessary. They are mostly drawn from the phenomena of vision. While
he rejects the doctrine of species and effluxes, and every form of material representation, he as earnestly
supports the doctrine of immaterial representatives, and holds that these are changing, uncertain, deceitful,
and confused, when contrasted with the pure ideas which are attained in God.
It deserves here to be noticed, that Malebranche was entirely rigorous in the application of the Carte-
sian theory of the nature of matter to the conception of what is really knowable of material things. Ii
matter is extension only, then all the knowledge of matter which we could possibly gain by sense-percep-
tion would be of certain relations of extension. Even our knowledge of the sensible qualities, as of hot,
cold, yellow, blue, rough, and smooth, would be the knowledge of the positions and changes of the material
particles [i. e., portions of extension] on which they depend. Of these relations of extension sense gives us
imperfect and inconsistent knowledge ; as when we look at a cube, each side is equally square in its real
form and relations, but they are not so in their rational idea.
4. Malebranche asserts, that in sense-perception the soul is passive in all its elements. It is true ho
asserts the same of the whole intellective nature, making the activity of the soul to belong only to the
emotional powers ; but the error was none the less serious in respect to his theory of sense-knowledge.
§ 200. Antony Arnauld, who was the most distinguished opponent of Malebranche, con-
tributed greatly to the correct theory of sense-perception. He maintained the following
Arnauld, A., ... . , ,r , , ,
I6P-1694 positions against Malebranche :
1. It is a false assumption that the soul cannot perceive except by means of repre-
sentative ideas. What the soul perceives, is not the idea as distinguishable from and
representative of the material object, but it is the object itself. The idea is nothing else than the percep-
tion itself. To say that the soul has an idea, is the same as to say that the soul has a perception. The
only difference of meaning between the two is, that perception stands especially for the modification of the
mind in the act of perceiving ; while idea stands for the object perceived, so far as it is in the spirit as an
object of thought. " Ainsi la perception oVun carre marque plus directement mon dme comme appercevant un
carre', et V 'idee cPun carre marque plus directement le carre, en tant quHl est objectivement dans mon esprit,"
Chap. v. § 6. Des vrais etfausses Idees. The words do not designate two entities, but one modification of the
soul which includes two relations. It is only in the sense that the representative ideas differ from percep-
tions, that Arnauld denies their existence. In the other sense of representative modalities, he holds that
all our perceptions are representative ideas. The prevailing error arises from conceiving of these spiritual
modifications, by analogies from material images, as representative pictures and drawings. The idea of
a material object is the object as conceived by the mind.
2. The soul, to perceive a material object, does not need to come into contact with the object per-
ceived. This, the great argument for an intermediate object, Arnauld confutes at length, showing that it
involves the consequence that the idea must have relations to space and to the soul itself, which comes in
contact with it. When we perceive the sun, we do not need to go to the sun, nor to its idea.
3. The soul is not passive in perception, but active. It is endowed directly by the Creator with the
230 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 201
power to perceive. In the exercise of this power or faculty it is active. It acts in as many ways as it ia
rendered capable of doing by the creative endowment of God. It is as reasonable to suppose that it can
perceive material objects directly, as that it can know directly its own states or modifications.
4. "We must, in the last analysis, be able to perceive material objects directly. Otherwise, we should
not know that the representative ideas did represent them.
In all tbese positions Arnauld made important advances toward a correct theory of sense-percep-
tion, and prepared the way for, if he did not anticipate, the doctrines of Eeid and Hamilton. The fifth
chapter of his great work on True and False Ideas reminds the reader of the acuteness and subtilty of
Hamilton, more than any passage from any other modern writer. It far surpasses any thing in Reid foi
sondensation of language, sharpness of division, and clearness of definition.
§ 201. The speculations of Locke have exerted a powerful influence upon the course
l of modern philosophy, and incidentally upon the theories of sense-perception. The
1632-1704. ' Essay on the Human Understanding is not so much a psychological as it is a meta-
physical treatise. It does not so much analyze the powers and functions of the
human soul, as it decomposes and traces to their origin the ideas or conceptions
which make up the stock of human knowledge. His doctrine of sense-perception is not formally expound-
ed as such, nor is it distinctly propounded in separate propositions. It must be gathered and inferred
from his discussions of the ideas of sense, of the primary and secondary qualities of matter, and of the
nature and kinds of knowledge.
Locke was familiar with both Gassendi and Descartes, and perhaps with Malebranche, and had in
his mind the speculations of these philosophers, as well as the logic current in his time, which retained
not a few of the distinctions and phrases of the schoolmen. He was also, as a physician, familiar with
the received physiology of his time ; and as a physical philosopher he sympathized very warmly with
what was called the New Philosophy — i. e., with the doctrines of Boyle, Newton, and the founders of
the Royal Society.
From Gassendi he derived some of his materialistic conceptions and modes of explaining mental
phenomena, as well as his eclectic tendency to bring together opposite and incongruous principles—
e. g.} materialistic hypotheses, and theistic and even Christian doctrines. But through the spirit of
his own system, he fell far below Gassendi in the analysis of the faculties. Gassendi recognizes reason,
or the light of nature, as the source of intuitive truths and of our higher knowledge, and contrasts
these higher powers with the lower faculties of sense and phantasy. Locke lumps these powers and
their products together, under the general title of reflection.
Erom Descartes he learned to assert, if possible more positively than he, the authority of conscious-
ness, and the validity of the ideas which it furnishes when it is exalted into reflection. But he sets
himself most decidedly to deny and refute his doctrine of innate ideas ; Locke's first book being a
forma] refutation of Descartes' Meditations. His zeal against this doctrine led him so far that he failed
to provide and account for our higher knowledge and intuitions, so that he in this respect even fell far
below Gassendi. He rejected the sharp distinction made by Descartes between spirit and matter, going
so far as almost to defend the proposition that matter can think. He, of course, set aside the assump-
tion that the essence of matter is extension, and the essence of spirit is thought.
On the other hand, with the Cartesians, he rejected the doctrine of substantial forms, and in entire
harmony with the physicists of his time, assumed that all material phenomena, even those which are
exhibited by living beings, including those which serve the spiritual soul, are to be accounted for by
mechanical laws. Hence, from Descartes he accepted, without hesitation, the doctrine of the primary
and secondary qualities of matter.
His aversion to scholastic terminology and over-refined distinctions, and his desire to make himself
intelligible to men unused to the technics of philosophy, induced him to overlook many of the sharp
distinctions which Descartes, Malebranche, and Arnauld had made. Their effect was also to introduce
confusion of thought and inconsistency of statement into a treatise which both aimed and claimed to be
level to the common understanding. The importance of the weighty truths which Locke embodied in
this apparently most intelligible treatise, and the high esteem ia which Locke has been held by the
English people, have perpetuated in Great Britain a similar method of treating philosophical subjects,
as well as a loose and confused, yet unscholastic style of writing upon them.
To understand and critically to appreciate Locke, the following work» may be recommended :
Leibnitz, G. "W., Nouveaux Essais ; Descartes, R., Meditationes : Principia ; Malebranche, N., Re-
cherche de la Verite; Lee, H., Anti- Skepticism, Lond , 1702; Burthogge, R., Essay Upon Reason, fyc,
Loud., 1694 ; Solid Philosophy Asserted, by J. S. [Sargent], Lond., 1697 ; Browne, P., Procedure, Extent,
and Limits of Human Understanding, Lond., 1729, 2d ed. ; Things Divine and Supernatural conceived by
Analogy, Lond., 1733 ; Herbert, E., of Cherbury, De Veritaie, Lond., 1645, 3d ed. ; More, H., Opera Phi-
losophica, Lond., 1679 ; Cumberland, E., De Legibus Nature, Lond., 1672 ; Cudworth, R., True Intellectual
System of the Universe, Lond., 1678 ; Ilobbes, T., Works, ed. Molesworth, Lond., 1839-45 ; Smith, John,
Select Discourses ; Cousin, V., Cours de VHistoire de la Philosophic, Lecons 16-25, Paris, 1S28-9, 8vo, trans,
by C. S. Henry, Hartford, 1S34; King, W., Life of Locke, Lond., 1830; Tagart, E., Locke's Writings and
Philosophy, Lond., 1855 ; Webb, T. E., Intellectual ism of Locke, Dublin, 1857.
§201.
THEOEIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 231
To the theory of Sense-Perception Locke made not a single contribution of -what had not been known
before, -while, by his method of treating the subject, he opened the way for very serious misunderstand'
ings and fundamental errors. This circumstance ought not to diminish our respect for Locke as a man,
nor our estimate of the excellence and importance of his Essay.
In respect to sense-perception, Locke's opinions may be divided as follows :
1. Of the medium or physical conditions of sense-perception he teaches little that is positive, and
nothing that was new. He refers to the organs of sense, and also to the nerves and the animal spirits,
as receptive of impulses and susceptible of motion, and leaves his readers to infer that it is probably by
mechanical changes in their material particles that the conditions of sensation are furnished. He does
aot explain, however, in detail, what these conditions are, so far as the organs of sense are concerned.
2. Of the facidty, he says only that it is a distinct source of knowledge, and that from this we derive
all that we know of material qualities— i. e., of the separable elements given by each of the senses. The
name of this faculty is usually sensation or external sense. Its operation or function he usually calls
perception. He calls it perception, B. ii. c. ix. § 1. He calls it sensation, B. ii. c. xix. § 1. Rather,
the idea is here called sensation. All more precise knowledge of the faculty and its workings we are
forced to infer or gather from his view of the objects with which it has to do, and his discussion of the
act of knowledge in general. It is, however, a serious defect in his treatment of the faculty, that he
uniformly regards it as passive, always representing it as the " receiver of ideas," never as the active
agent, which is competent by its own energies to know objects. The process and the nature of percep-
tion is rather explained by the objects which are impressed upon it, than by the power of the soul to
perceive that they exist.
3. The objects apprehended by the faculty of sense are the qualities of matter. Of these there are
two classes : the primary and the secondary. The primary are solidity, extension, figure, motion, rest,
and number. The secondary are the so-called sensible qualities, as color, taste, smell, etc. These are
the capacities in material objects to produce certain impressions or affections of the soul by variations of
size, figure, position, and motions of the primary qualities. In the language of the more recent schools,
material objects are known by director intuitive perception as occupying and related to space, so far
are they known in their real nature. In the same way they are known to be diverse from the mind
which perceives them. In their sensible or secondary qualities, they are known as the producers [by
means of their essential qualities] of subjective affections of the mind.
These two classes of qualities make up all that we know of material objects, when we add to them the
" obscure idea " of substance, as that in which they inhere.
4. "What knowledge is, or what it is for the mind to know, Locke teaches by the following definitions :
" The mind knows not things immediately, but only by the intervention of the ideas it has of them.
Our knowledge, therefore, is real only so far as there is a conformity between our ideas and the reality
of things" (B. iv. c. iv. § 3). This language seems at first to assert as plainly as possible the view, that it
is only by means of intervening ideas that the mind acquires its original knowledge, or perceives mate-
rial objects and qualities. In support of this construction of his words, Locke speaks of ideas as being
conveyed to "the presence-chamber of the mind," as being painted in fading colors, as being con-
sumed to ashes by the fires and heat of passion and desire. Locke, moreover, asserts (B. ii. c. viii. § 11, 12)
that the way "in which bodies produce ideas in us," is manifestly "by impulse, the only way we can
conceive bodies to operate in." Moreover, "if external objects be not present to our minds when they
produce ideas in it, . . . 'tis evident that some motion must be then continued by our nerves or aui
mal spirits ... to the brain or the seat of sensation ; and since extension, figure, and motion may
be perceived at a distance by the sight," "'tis evident some singly imperceptible bodies must come from
them to the eyes, and thereby convey to the brain some motion which produces these ideas." In respect
to the secondary qualities, we may conceive that they also are produced by the motion of insensible, i. e.,
indiscernible particles. For example, let us suppose "that the different motions and figure, bulk and
number of such particles " " produce in us the sensations of the color and smell of a violet "—viz., of the
blue color and sweet odor of this flower.
Locke, moreover, says of the relation of these " ideas " to their correspondent qualities or objects :
" The ideas of primary qualities of bodies are resemblances of them, and their patterns do really exist
in the bodies themselves ; but the ideas produced in us by their secondary qualities have no resemblance
of them at all." He expressly defines knowledge of every kind to be the discernment of an agreement
or disagreement between two entities: in the case of sense-knowledge between the representative idea
and its counterpart.
The language of Locke in these passages, if strictly construed, would seem to declare that it is by the
intervention of representative ideas that we perceive sensible objects, and that we can only know them so
far as we discern that they "resemble" or " agree with" their object. Hence it has been charged upon
him that h6 taught the doctrine of perception by means of intervening images or ideas. It becomes a
question of great interest, therefore, what he actually did intend by this careless and confused language.
It is obvious that any such theory of knowledge, when applied to sense-perception, would break down
by its own weight. It must involve a positive self-contradiction, or else an idle and useless expedient.
If we can only know a material object by means of the intervening idea, which " represents" or agree*
232 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 202
with it, then we can never reach, or know the object at all ; for we may go on by a succession of pre
cesses ad infinitum, and, when we have done, we Bhall only have reached a representative idea, but shal]
never have grasped the object itself. On the other hand, if it be conceded that we can and do perceive
material objects, and, in perceiving them, discern that the idea is " conformed to," l' agrees with," ot
" represents" its object, then we must be able to compare the two together— the material object and its
idea. But in order to be able to compare the object with its idea, we must know each term which we
compare— i. e., we must first have known the object itself. But if we know it already, of what use is it,
or how is it possible, to acquire knowledge of it by the idea? It also renders it impossible to know the
secondary qualities by any mean3 whatever, for Locke expressly asserts that no similarity exists between
the ideas of secondary qualities and the qualities themselves— as of the smell, etc., of the violet, and the
qualities in objects which produce them.
These consequences, so fatal to the representative theory, supposing Locke to have held it, would lead
us to question whether he intended by "idea," in every or in any case, an intervening representative image ;
and by the words, " to resemble," " to be conformed to," "to agree with," any relation discerned by a pro-
cess of comparison. A careful examination of the most of the passages of the Essay authorizes the conclu-
sion that, however careless he may have been in his language, he never intended to use idea as the condition
of sense-perception, so far as by this we acquire knowledge of matter, but only as the mental modification,
which we use in mediate knowledge, as in memory, imagination, and generalization. "We have seen
(§170), that Eeid falls into the very same inconsistency of language, and exposes himself, by so doing, to
the charge of holding the representative theory. In all cases of what is really representative knowledge,
we first have gained the idea by intuition, before we compare it with its object. Locke's definition of knowl-
edge as the discernment of the agreement or disagreement of ideas, would preeminently and only properly
apply to logical knowledge, or that knowledge of which "generalized concepts" form the material, and are
the terms compared. The language in which he expressly distinguishes between the two kinds of knowl
edge justifies this interpretation of his meaning. " In the former case [of sensitive knowledge], our knowl-
edge is the consequence of things producing ideas in our minds by our senses. In the latter, knowledge is
the consequence of.the ideas (be they what they will) that are in our minds, producing these general certain
propositions." Cf. Essay, B. iv. c. ii. § 14 ; but for the other view, B. ii. c. viii. §§ 15, 16. These chapters are
worth studying, not only as an exposition of Locke's real meaning in respect to sense-knowledge, but as
illustrating strikingly how far he was indebted to and influenced by the doctrines of Descartes and Male-
branche. " We may not think [as perhaps usually is done] that they [ideas of sensible qualities] are ex-
actly the images and resemblances of something inherent in the subject ; most of those of sensation being
in the mind no more the likeness of something existing without us, than the names that stand for them are
the likeness of our ideas, which yet, upon hearing, they are apt to excite in us." Essay, B. ii. c. viii. § 7.
But whatever doubt there may be in respect to the doctrines which Locke actually taught in respect
to perception, there can be no question at all in respect to the construction which other writers gave them,
or to the inferences which they derived from the principles which they imputed to him.
§ 202. Berkeley (Principles of Human Knowledge, § IS sqq.), assuming that ideas only are
the direct objects of the mind's knowledge in sense-perception, concludes that it is impos-
leTl-l?^' e°'' sible that the mind should know that the material_or external world exists at all. It is
impossible that the mind should know the objects which the ideas are said to resemble.
Tor, in the first place, one idea can only be like an idea, and can never be like an object ;
and second, if the idea was like the object, we could never know the likeness except by knowing both the idea
and its object. All that the mind can know are its own sensations or modifications. The distinction between
primary and secondary qualities is not well-founded. It is true we know that it is only on occasion of the ideas
of extension, motion, and figure, that we have the sensations of color, taste, and sound. Ideas exist only
so far as they are perceived. The laws which we conceive to govern material things, only govern the com-
binations of our ideas. Eeal objects, as we call them, are only combinations of ideas ; the only difference
between them and the so-called imaginary ideas consists chiefly in this, that the first are not dependent on
our will to produce them, but are always present to our minds, whether we will or no. Imaginary ideas,
on the other hand, come and go according as we will. Eeal ideas are also more lively and distinct, while
those of the imagination are faint and confused. The knowledge of spirit is strikingly contrasted with that
which we have of matter. "We know ourselves and our own states or modifications directly. "We know our
thoughts, feelings, etc., not their ideas. That the universe is permanent in its objects— viz., ideas— and
also in its laws, is to be explained by this, that the Eternal Spirit constantly sustains and presents these
ideas for the contemplation of created spirits. By means of these, the attributes and government of God
are made known. All the things that we perceive, are the ideas of God.
Other idealists, as Arthur Collier, maintained the non-existence of the material world by similar
arguments.
David Hume was not content to apply the ideal theory to the world of matter, but ha
maintained that it was as true of the world of spirits, rejecting the distinction made in
17 lT^-1 7 7 6 ine' favor o:f *Qe latter by Berkeley, and urging that we know nothing of the mind except
only the ideas which we experience, and dissolving all real existences into mere collec-
tions of ideas.
§203.
THEORIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 23,
Berkeley's Essay toward a New TJicory of Vision, 1709, was the most important contribution which hi
made to the theory of sense-perception. This was followed by The Theory of Vision Vindicated and Ex-
plained, 1733. In these essays Berkeley gave greater precision and fulness to the doctrine of the acquired
perceptions. The fact that some of our perceptions are acquired was familiarly known and generally
accepted before the time of Berkeley. It was generally held, however, that the acquired judgments wero
formed by means of the properties of light, as taught in the science of optics. This doctrine Berkeley
sets aside, and clearly establishes the truth that it is by sensations attending the varied use of the eyes,
by the confusion and clearness cf the vision, etc., etc., that these judgments of distance and magnitude
are formed, and that these judgments are wholly matters of experience of what is the ordinary course oi
nature. He insists that visible magnitude has no relation whatever to tangible magnitude, and that tho
fact that we judge of one by the other is simply the result of experience ; that vision, being limited to
color, can give no idea of distance. He attempts to prove, moreover, that "the extension, figures, and
motions perceived by sight are specifically distinct from the ideas of touch, called by the same names ; nor
is there any such thing as one idea, or kind of idea, common to both senses ; " the so-called visible exten-
sion, or visible space, being totally unlike tangible space. Seme of these extreme and paradoxical ideas
have been abandoned, as unsupported by a sound physiology and psychology ; but Berkeley's general doc-
trine of the acquired perceptions has been almost universally accepted (cf. § 142;.
§ 203. The most distinguished opponent of the idealism of Berkeley and Hume was
Dr. Thomas Reid, the father of the so-called Scotch philosophy. Being startled by ths
Dr. Thos. Held, consequences which these writers derived from their construction of Locke's theory oi
1710-1796. * ■ .' , , n j. • jl 1 xi 7 J. ■ t x x-
sense-perception, he was led to review not only the doctrine ot representative percep-
tion, but also some other principles which Locke was understood to advocate in respect
to the origin and elements of knowledge. He attempted to supply some of his defects by establishing the
authority of common sense, or intuitive reason, as an arbiter of philosophical truth, asserting that there
are original axioms, "or first truths, which are of independent and paramount authority.
In respect to' sense-perception, he is less successful in stating and defending his own theory, than he
is in criticising the theories of the advocates of representative perception. At one time he distinctly
asserts that we perceive material things directly, without the intervention of ideas. At another, he as
distinctly asserts that, on occasion of certain, sensations, the existence of these objects is suggested to the.
mind with an irresistible conviction. *
In respect to the qualities of matter, he holds nearly the language of Locke, except that he denies
that the primary qualities are either sensations, or resemblances of sensations. He says that we have a
direct notion of them — that we know them as they are, but that of secondary qualities we have only a
relative notion, knowing them only as the unknown causes of known psychical effects. But what we
know directly in knowing primary qualities, he does not define. He does not tell us whether, in knowing
solidity, we know any thing more of it than that it is the unknown cause of a sensation ; nor whether
we know extension and externality by direct intuition, or by indirect suggestion.
He does not correctly conceive and consistently treat the externality which is affirmed of the objects
of sense. At one time he treats it as though it were the not-body, at another, as though it were the not-
spirit, which is perceived directly. Not clearly conceiving and persistently holding a just conception of tho
problem to be solved, he failed to solve it satisfactorily. Strange as it may seem, the very act of percep-
tion which he is to define and defend, he does not consistently conceive of. At one time he treats it as
though it was an act by which a quality discerned by sense is referred to an external object or assemblage
of qualities, as sweetness is referred to the rose ; at another, as the act by which the sweet odor is known
to be, and to be distinct from the percipient mind. In other words, he perpetually confounds the acquired
with the original perceptions, though he was familiar with the distinction between the two.
Notwithstanding these defects and inconsistencies, his merits were great. He did not perfect a sound
and consistent theory, but toward such a theory he furnished important contributions.
1. He successfully exposed the groundlessness, inconsistency, and contradictions of the ancient and
modern theories of representative perception, and cleared the way for a theory more accordant with com-
mon experience and common sense. To establish to the conviction of all men the untenableness of a false
theory is to perform no inconsiderable service toward the vindication of a theory that is true. Occam and
Arnauld both made the attempt to set aside the ideal theory, the latter with equal if not greater acute-
ness than Reid himself. What they only attempted, Reid successfully achieved.
2. Reid vindicated the general principle, that no theory of perception is entitled to confidence as
truly philosophical, which contradicts the universal conviction and the common sense of mankind, when
they apply their understandings to the judgment of truths which they are competent to decide uron.
This was a special inference from the general axioms of Reid's philosophy. Buffier, in his First Truths,
had laid down the same position, and had also vindicated the trustworthiness and authority of sense-per-
ception, but with less fulness and less success than Reid.
3. Reid insisted that the mind is active in sense-perception, and did this with an earnestness rare
among philosophers not only of the English, but of any school whatever. The ancients, and the modema
before him, did indeed assert that the mind is active in its higher functions ; but they as distinctly denied
that it was active in the lower. It has been nearly the uniform doctrine of all the schools that, in sensc-per«
234 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 204.
ception, objects act upon the mind so as to impress ideas, and that, in the reception of these «'deas, the mind
is chiefly or wholly passive. Against this doctrine Reid occasionally protests, in language like the follow-
ing : " An object, in being perceived, does not act at all. I perceive the walls of the room where I sit ; "but
they are perfectly inactive, and therefore act not upon the mind. To be perceived is what logicians call an
external denomination, which implies neither action nor quality in the object perceived. Nor could men
have ever gone into this notion that perception is owing to some action of the object upon the mind, were
it not that we are so prone to form our notions of the mind from some similitude we conceive between it
and body."
To this Hamilton takes exception, that the reasoning is not original with Reid, and that the language
is not sufficiently qualified. Both arc doubtless true, but the value of the remark is not thereby dimin-
ished, nor is the sagacity of its author. Arnauld had insisted, in a similar way, that the mind is activo
in perception, but the assertion had scarcely been heeded.
4. As intimately connected with the preceding, Reid asserts that the faculty and act of judgment ara
present in connection with the perceptions of sense. " In persons come to years of understanding, judg-
ment necessarily accompanies all sensation, perception by the senses," etc. True, Reid was not original
in this; for Malebranche, Arnauld, and Buffier had asserted the same. It may be said, even, that the
schoolmen taught the same doctrine, when they introduced the higher intellect to complete the process of
perception. Reid scarcely acknowledged the presence of judgment, except in the sphere of the acquired
perceptions ; only in his doctrine of suggestion he provided for it a place in the original intuitions, and in
this made some advance upon the previously-accepted theory.
5. Reid recognized and enforced the distinction between sensation and perception, and thus prepared
the way for the correct and completed determination of the two elements in the process. The older phi-
losophers distinguished between the element of sense and the element of intellect. But they kept the two
so far separate, as not to allow their presence in the act o f original intuition, and so failed to recognize
that intimate relation between the two, which the facts of experience attest and vouch for.
§ 204. Dugald Stewart, the successor of Reid in the school of Scotch philosophers,
■^0^owe^ c^ose^y ai1^ almost timidly in the footsteps of his predecessor, whom he greatly
1753-18°8l ' ' admired and revered. He adopted the views of Reid in the main, but introduced
greater precision into the distinctions which he established, and somewhat enlarged the
range of the questions which he had started for discussion. In these ways, without
contributing any new matter to the correct theory of sense-perception, he rendered very important service
toward its final determination. He stated the questions more clearly, drew the distinctions more pre-
cisely, materially enlarged the range of observation, and enabled succeeding philosophers to face more
distinctly the problems which needed solution.
1. He discriminated more carefully between sensation and perception than Reid. He limited percep-
tion to the act of apprehending the objects appropriate to each separate sense, and escaped the confusion
and ambiguity which Reid committed, of confounding the original with the acquired perceptions.
Of three of the senses— smell, taste, and hearing— he denied perception altogether in fact, though not
inform. He expressly asserted that these, by themselves, give no information of external objects {Out-
lines of Moral Philosophy, § 15). He asserts that the sensation of color, even as given in vision, can reside
in the mind only, and is purely subjective ; giving no relation of extension, and in our early experience
clearly separable from it. It is connected with the primary qualities by a necessary belief of the mind ;
and so readily does the one suggest the other, as the mind is developed, that we conceive of color as spread
over the surface of bodies, under the influence of an insurmountable association. (Elements, V. ii. c. i. § 2).
He even suggests that the primary qualities, as extension and figure, are attended by sensations of theii
own, which perform the office of signs only, without attracting any notice to themselves ; so that, as they
are seldom accompanied with cither pleasure or pain, we acquire an habitual inattention to them in early
infancy, which is not easily surmounted in our maturer years. (Outlines, etc., § 32.)
"Whatever may be thought of the correctness of these views, it cannot be denied that they served to
draw more finely and to render more exact the distinction between sensation and perception, as well as to
bring out more distinctly the truth, that perception has chiefly to do with the two relations of externality
and of extension ; and that the chief question which we need to answer in respect to perception is this :
How and when does the mind apprehend objects as external and extended ?
2. Stewart apprehended, far more clearly than Reid, the true character of what he calls the mathe-
matical affections of matter, and the relation of these affections to space and to our belief in space as a
necessary existence. These mathematical affections arc extension and figure, and are distinguished from
the other primary qualities, such as hardness or solidity, and are thus characterized : 1. They presuppose
the existence of our external senses. 2. The notion of them involves an irresistible conviction of the
external existence of their objects — viz., of space. 3. This conviction is neither the result of reasoning,
nor of experience, but is inseparable from the very conception of it, and must therefore be considered as
an ultimate and essential law of human thought. (Phil. Essays, chap. ii. § 2.)
These remarks of Stewart in respect to space and extension are more discriminating than those ol
Reid upon the same topic, and bring distinctly to view the distinctions and problems which aro necessarily
nvolved in a complete theory of sense-perception.
g '205. THEOEIES OE SENSE-PERCEPTION. 235
3. Stewai fc adds to the doctrine of Reid, that we believe in the existence of the material world, by a
necessary suggestion. The explanation of our belief in its permanence, he finds in our more compre-
hensive belief in the permanence of the laws of Nature. Intuitive suggestion would give us only the
present existence of objects correspondent to our sensations. But we also need some ground of our belie!
in their permanent existence, and this is given in the more comprehensive intuition which concerns the past
and the future, as well as the present.
The authority and the necessity of this intuition were recognized by Dr. Reid, but the application
of it to the completion of the act of sense-perception was original with Stewart. Further reflection would
doubtless have \e& him to acknowledge, that no act of sense-perception can be complete without involving
also some process of induction. But in recognizing the necessity of this principle, Stewart elevates the
act of perception from a passive receptivity to an active energy, and also does justice to one of the intel-
lectual elements which are necessary to make it complete.
§ 205. Dr. Thomas Brown followed in the same school with Reid and Stewart. He*
Dr. Thomas pushed the distinction between sensation and perception to a greater refinement than
Brown, 1778- Stewart had done, and went so far as to reject altogether the distinction between the
1820, primary and the secondary qualities. The analysis which he has given of the processes
and the products of the sense-perceptions, is the boldest and one of the most subtle
which is to be found in the whole compass of English psychology. "Whatever opinion may be formed of
the soundness of Dr. Brown's opinions, he cannot fail to receive credit for the ingenuity of this analysis.
1. Dr. Brown attached great importance to the muscular sensations. He was one of the earliest of
English psychologists to recognise and to distinguish them from the sensations as usually accepted. This
distinction is now almost universally adopted. Dr. Brown made so much of these sensations, as to derive
from these alone the notions of extension and of externality. He not only insisted, with Stewart, that
the sensations of color are independent of and need convey no notion of extension, but that even the sen-
sations appropriate to touch are as truly subjective, and that both suggest the extended and external object
only through an inveterate association.
The process or method by which the muscular sensations give extension, is thus explained : In the
contraction and expansion of any of the muscles — as, for example, those of the hand — there is a succession
of similar feelings, each of which, taken singly, would be only a subjective state of the soul's experience,
or a simple sensation. But when these are contemplated in a succession or series— that is, when tbey are
connected in time so as to be reviewed by the memory— they suggest at once one of the dimensions of
space, or extension. The muscular sensations alone are competent to this, because they alone are capable
of producing many repetitions of the same series. Hence, to these is limited the office of giving extension,
and of connecting our other sensations with space, and with objects in space.
The manner in which the muscular sensations were supposed by Brown to acquaint us with an exter-
nal object, has already been explained and discussed (§ 130).
The critical inquiry must suggest itself to any mind : "Why may not the muscular sensations be aa
truly and entirely subjective as any of the sensations proper 1 If one such sensation, taken singly, is purely
subjective, why not a series] How can it be that a series of such sensations, in the order or relation of
time, should become even the occasion or suggestion of relations of place or space 1
2. It is obvious from this analysis, that Dr. Brown scarcely recognizes the distinction adopted by Reid
between sensation and perception. So far as the original perceptions are concerned, he rejects it altogether,
as indeed he must, perforce. The only acts of perception which he acknowledges or describes, are acts of
acquired perception. It is only when through the muscular sensations we are furnished with external and
extended objects, that we learn to attach to these our several sensations.
Indeed the language which Brown habitually uses, expresses his rejection of the fact of perception.
He speaks of om feeling even cf extension, as though, because the act of the mind were performed by
the mind itself, therefore the act must be wholly or chiefly subjective ; in other words, because the mind
is subjectively active in knowing, it can only directly know its own states, and never an object differing
from itself or its own modifications.
He refers our belief in the external and material world to the principle of causation. We know our
sensations as subjective states of the soul. "We believe that they must be produced by a cause. We
know that they are not caused by ourselves. There must be causes other than ourselves. These causea
are material non-egos. The existence of these non-egos is not suggested directly, as Reid teaches, but
it is inferred. " Perception, then, even in that class of feelings by which we learn to consider our-
selves as surrounded by substances extended and resisting, is only another name, as I have said, for the
result of certain associations and inferences that flow from other more general principles of the mind"
(Lee. 26, cf. § 130).
"When Brown makes such frequent use of the principle of causation in his theory of sense-percep-
tion, we ought not to fail to remember that his views of causation are peculiar, both in respect to the
nature of the relation itself, and the ground of our confidence in its necessity and universality. The re-
mark is equally applicable to all his followers and to the disciples of kindred schools, particularly to the
doctrines and definitions of J. Stuart Mill, concerning sense-perception and its objects.
3. It is equally clear that Brown, to be consistent, would reject nearly or altogether the distinction
236 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 206.
between the primary and the secondary qualities of matter, as explained by Reid, and in part adopted
by Stewart. He maintains that there is a certain propriety in the distinction, but that it is not giver, by
our original perceptions themselves, but only arises upon reflection. It is only by a secondary and arti
ficial process that we reach the belief of extension and extended objects. The distinction between the
primary and secondary qualities must necessarily be subsequent to this belief.
Dr. Brown founded no school, in the proper sense of the word, but his doctrines have had no little
Influence in respect to many important questions in psychology and philosophy. The associationalisU
and the cerebralists have, in many points, reproduced his views, and refer to him as a high authority
James Mill, 1773-1836 {Analysis of the Phenomena of the Human Mind), follows him very closely in the
subjective and sensational character which he gives to our knowledge of matter, and in the resolution
of the higher acts of intelligence, as well as of the belief in time and space, and in all necessary truths,
into the law of association (cf. Chaps, ii., iii., and xi.) John Stuart Mill, the son, follows close in the steps
of both, in his definitions of sensations and of material objects (.Logic, B. i. c. iii. § § 3, 4, and 7. Ex-
amination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy, etc., chaps, xi., xiii., xiv.) With him also agree, in
these common peculiarities, received from Dr. Brown, Alexander Bain (The Senses and the Intellect),
and Herbert Spencer (Principles of Psychology).
§ 296. This deservedly eminent and excellent Professor of Logic and Metaphysics in
Sir "William tllQ University of Edinburgh, was one of the greatest philosophers of Great Britain.
Hamilton, He devoted his researches to two leading topics : Formal Logic, and the Theories of
1788-ISod. Sense-perception. • He had studied the history of these theories with greater care
than any one of his own time, and had gathered from his historical researches the
most valuable results in the way of observation and analysis. His contributions are important in
respect to all the points which have been noticed.
1. Sensation and perception were more carefully discriminated by him, as to their nature and mate-
rial relations, than by any philosopher before his time. They are viewed by him as inseparable elements
of a single mental state, and are called sensation and perception proper. Sensation does not precede
perception in the order of time, nor of conscious experience, though it is its essential condition, so far,
at least, that no perception is formed except in connection with an excited sensation.
But though these are inseparable elements, and are always present in the apprehension of every
material object, they are not active with the same energy or intenseness. ^\s a general rule, the energy
of the one is inversely as that of the other.
Further, sensation and perception, as coexistent elements of the same mental act, are contrasted as
special acts or experiences of feeling and knowledge ; with this difference, however, that sensation-proper
is an affection not of the soul only, but of the body as united with the soul, or, more exactly, of the organism
as animated by the soul, and otherwise made capable of sentient experiences. Sensation, as experienced
in the organism, necessarily involves the relation of relative locality ; it being impossible that a sensation
should be experienced, and yet not be placed with more or less distinctness in some part of the organism
It may here be observed, that, however correct Hamilton may be in the view that sensation is
necessarily placed — i. e., experienced under some relation of extension, the question will at once occur,
how far this position is consistent with the other position, that sensation-proper and perception-proper
are contrasted as feeling and knowledge. An affection experienced with some apprehended relation of
place, must include some object and act of knowledge ; and, if so, then the two are only ideally conceiva-
ble, as reciprocally knowledge and feeling. Rather, the classification should be threefold, into knowledge,
feeling, and sensation ; the last partaking somewhat of both. According to his classification, the soul
should be treated as endowed with the power of sensation or sense-perception, knowledge, emotion, and
will. If this classification is adopted, the phenomena of sense-perception must be referred to the joint
action of sensation and knowledge ; knowledge, in its appropriate and higher forms of action, being con-
fessedly involved in the apprehension of material qualities and material objects.
2. Hamilton asserts that sense-perception involves the action of the intelligence in the form of judg-
ment, or the discrimination of relations. It follows of necessity that, in perception, man is active, and
not simply receptive or passive. These important truths Hamilton enforces on every occasion.
Ho is not, however, sufficiently explicit in showing the variety of acts of judgment which are in-
volved in the several processes of sense-perception, from the most elementary to the most complicated.
Nor does he state how the act of perception, which is also an act of judgment, can possibly differ from
an act of thought. In defining the elaborative facult3', or the power of thought, he makes it to be the
faculty of relations. But sense-perception, so far as it involves judgment, knows objects in their rela-
tions, and is so far coincident with the higher power of thought. The only possible ground for discrim-
inating the two, is in the fact that the presentative power apprehends and judges individual objects, and
the elaborative power apprehends and judges objects which are general, and the relatic us which they
involve.
3. In respect to extension and space, Hamilton tenches, with Kant and a multitude cf others, that
while the special relations of every material body are known by sense-perception, yet space itself is pre-
supposed by the intuition of the intellect, in order that it may bo possible for all of these relations to be
perceived as actual. Space must be known d priori, in order that extension may be known a posteriori.
§206. THEORIES OP SENSE-PERCEPTION. 23?
Moreover, lie teaches, as has already heen explained under No. 1, that all the senses involve th«
relation of extension, some with greater, and others with less definiteness, and that it is absurd, and
contrary to experience, to teach that the sensations of sound and smell are purely spiritual affections.
The extension which is apprehended in the original acts of sense-perception, is primarily the exten-
sion that pertains to the portions of the sensorium which are excited in a determinate way. The
cpace-relations which are affirmed of material objects, are indirectly apprehended aud acquired.
4. In respect to externality, Hamilton teaches positively though not with so great clearness aa
is desirable, that the term is used in two senses : (1) as denoting the diversity of the sentient organism
from the perceiving intellect ; and (2) the diversity of material objects from the material organism which
ihe soul animates, and by which it apprehends.
In respect to the first of these relations, he asserts that it is directly apprehended in every act of
sense -perception— it being impossible that a sensation should be experienced without being apprehended
as belonging to that organism which is diverse from, or external to the mind, as well as animated by it.
This is a necessary element of the doctrine of natural realism, or of immediate perception.
In respect to the second, he teaches that it is gained by the exercise of the locomotive power in the
form of muscular effort. This effort is resisted, and with the resistance is gained the correlative of a
resisting something, external to the body or sentient organism. " "When I am conscious of the exertion
of an enorganic volition to move, and aware that the muscles are obedient to my will, but at the same
time aware that my limb is arrested in its motion by some external impediment, in this case I cannot ba
conscious of myself as the resisted relative, without at the same time being conscious, being immedi-
ately percipient of a not-self as the resisting correlative."
We do not doubt that the exercise of muscular effort has an important agency in enabling the mind
to apprehend externality of material objects; but we cannot agree with Hamilton, that it attains this
knowledge in the way or on the sole conditions in which he asserts that it does ; or that, if it did, th's
would be properly termed an immediate perception. The conditions supposed are, that the mind should
know its own muscular efforts, and distinguish itself as the cause of such " enorganic volition," in or
over these efforts. But this distinction, if it be allowed to be real, is too subtle and refined to attract the
attention at a very early stage in the mind's development. If it be possible to account for it by another
and more natural process, it is far more rational to do so. Such a solution we have attempted to furnish,
in the processes by which the mind combines the muscular and tactual perceptions, both of which are
more likely to attract the attention at an early period, and are more rapidly distinguished than is the
mind's spiritual activity, and its effects upon, or rather within the organism.
But if we suppose the process or the conditions stated by Hamilton to be correctly stated, the conse-
quent apprehension would not properly be called " an immediate perception ; " for it would manifestly
depend on the application of the relation of causality. The conclusion would be reasoned out by the fol-
lowing process : Here is an effect of which I am not the author — viz., an experienced resistance. There
is no force known to me within the organism which is competent to produce it. That force must there-
fore be extra-organic, and external to my body. This is very different from the immediate perception of
a correlative involving the apprehension of its relative. "We grant that on the supposition that we ap-
prehend one term of two correlatives, we must immediately apprehend the other. This follows -by the
force of logical necessity. But this logical discernment of an alternative is very different from the ap-
prehension of a fact, or existing thing, which, when ascertained to be real, must of course be appre-
hended as diverse from another being.
5. The qualities of material objects are treated by Hamilton as though, as qualities, they were the
direct objects of immediate sense-perception. This view is certainly implied in the whole of his doctrine,
and his history of the sensible qualities of matter. At least, no hint is given of the contrary. And yet,
strange as it may seem, Hamilton distinguishes these qualities, so far as they come within the sphere of
psychology, as considered from the two points furnished by sense and the understanding, " the last prin-
ciple of division " being " the different character under which the qualities, already apprehended, are
conceived or construed to the mind in thought?'' "VVe have to do with the first only.
A quality or attribute presupposes a substance to which it is related. It cannot be known as a
quality except it be believed or known to be thus related. If, then, a primary quality is known as a
quality by immediate perception, then it must be directly known to be related to its substratum or sub-
stance, and the relation of substance and attribute is discerned in every act of original perception. All
this is implied in this doctrine of Hamilton. If it be conceded that this is true of the primary quality of
extension, and even of the other— viz., solidity— it has been shown that it cannot, by Hamilton's own
showing, be true of the secundo-primary qualities, which are comprehended under resistance or pressure ;
all of those, according to Hamilton, involving a relation to the locomotive energy of the percipient. As
to the secondary, Hamilton himself abandons the position he had assumed, by in terms denying that
they are objects of perception at all, being, as he justly remarks, the unknown causes of subjective af-
fections in the percipients, and therefore incapable of being immediately perceived. Here we notice
also an inconsistency, or, at least, an imperfection of statement. Sensation, in Hamilton's theory,
is in no sense a purely subjective affection in the sentient. Color, sound, 6mell, are conceived of at
affections of the animated organism, and color involves relations of extension and relative position
238 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 200
This is overlooked by Hamilton in his statement, though perhaps not in his conception, of the secondai-j
qualities.
His doctrine of the perception of the qualities of matter, as qualities, is but another example, as it is
a consequence, of his failure exactly to discriminate between perception and thought. The fact is, that
immediate perception, if it can apprehend any qualities or relations of matter, can only apprehend those
which belong to the animate organism, this being the first and only object of immediate perception.
6. Hamilton sometimes confounds the conditions of perception with perception itself. In general,
he guards against such confusion. So learned an historian and so acute a critic of the theories of others
could not fail to observe that no occasion of error had been more fruitful or dangerous than this ; and
yet, in some instances, he fails to guard himself wholly against its influence.
He yields to this snare in applying the doctrine of latent modifications of the mind to the phenomena
of vision and hearing. He argues that, because two portions of extension, or two parts of an extended
substance, each of which by itself is invisible, become visible when annexed 60 as to form one continuity,
that therefore each of them, by itself, must obscurely affect the sensorium or the mind. So, two separate
sounds, each one of which might be too feeble to be heard alone, when uttered together, cannot fail to be
heard. In both these cases the distinction is overlooked between the action of physical or physiological
stimuli upon the sensorium, and their effect on the sensorium as the appropriate and indeed the
only condition of the responses of conscious sentiency or perception. One or two sounds or sights might
be too feeble to arouse the organism, when both together would excite it to action. It does not follow
from this that either alone would affect the soul even obscurely.
More wonderful still is it that Hamilton does not take notice of the inconsistency in his own views
of latent modifications of the soul. In commenting upon the phraseology of Leibnitz in such terms aa
obscure ideas, obscure representations, insensible perceptions, etc., ha remarks: " In this he violated the
universal usage of language. For perception, and idea, and representation, all properly involve the notion
of its being, in fact, contradictory to speak of a representation not really represented, a perception not
really perceived, an actual idea of whose presence we are not aware." {Met. Lee. xvii.) And yet, when
he argues against the doctrine of Stewart, he contends that objects may affect our consciousness and yet
net be remembered. "We contend " that this is impossible, and that it is more philosophical to suppose
that we are not conscious of them in any sense." {Lecture xviii.)
Again, when Hamilton, in illustrating his doctrine that the immediate object perceived by vision
is not distant, but in contact with the organ, he says the moon which we see is but " the complement of
the rays of light as affecting the organism." What he intends is doubtless correct, but certainly it is not
the light which we see in any sense as a physical agent, but what the light combined with the organism
gives us, or produces for us ; this, and this only, is the object seen.
When, also, he asserts that in such case " the external object is in immediate contact with the
organ," and that in this sense it is true " that all our senses are only modifications of touch," there is a
similar confusion of the conditions of the act of perception with the object actually perceived, and as
actually perceived. Physically it may be true that in order that the object be immediately perceived, some
physical thing or being must be brought into contact with the organ or the organism, but it does not
follow, therefore, that what is perceived should be touched or known by means either of superficial
touch or of muscular energy. That both of them may accompany every sense-perception with more or
less definite apprehension, is true. A conspicuous example is the union of touch and taste in the sense-
perceptions given by the tongue. But, as has already been shown, what is immediately perceived is the
organism in a given condition of sentiency. Touch, as giving the material object external to the or-
ganism, is an acquired, and not an immediate perception at all.
7. Hamilton attaches too great importance to the subjective sensations, or the idiopathic affections
of the nervous system, which are excited by electrical action, indigestion, or a blow. The sparks which
aro elicited by a blow over the eyes, the light, the sound, the taste, the ringing of the ears which elec-
tric or other agencies occasion, are doubtless owing to a peculiar stimulus of the sensorium, and to this
only. The occurrence of such phenomena demonstrates that similar phenomena when they continue long-
er and arc more distinctly experienced, are owing to the power of external objects to excite the organism
to a similar reaction ; the sensation being dependent on the proper excitement of the energies latent in
the organism. But the brief duration and the indefinite character of the sensations themselves, when
contrasted with the continued existence and the definite consciousness of those sensations that give us
the knowledge of existing things, show also that the power of the object to excite has quite as much to
do with the- result, as the capacity of the organism to be acted upon. The result is a product of their
joint forces, both of which are equally essential to the issue, and the issue itself is the psychical act of
such perception.
S. Hamilton's theory of perception is vitiated still further by the metaphysical assumption that we
know directly only phenomena, whether of matter or of mind ; and that the phenomena of either ar8
relative to our faculties, which are themselves conceived as capable of variety and change, involving
variety and change in the products or objects known. This theory, derived from Kant, is liable to the
most serious objections, on general grounds and in other applications. So far as sense-perception is
concerned, it is defective in that it assumes that phenomena, as such, are the direct objects, and the onlj
§206. THEORIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 239
direct objects of the mind's knowledge. We hold that neither phenomena nor qualities, as such, are
perceived, but objects, percepts, or beings ; and that it is by an after-thought, or reflex irocess, thai
these are connected as qualities, and are referred to substances (cf. § 164).
9. The most eminent service which Hamilton bas rendered to the theory of sense-perception, is hia
criticism of all the possible forms of the doctrine of representative or mediate perception, and his dem-
onstration that every such theory is untenable.
We give the substance of his- criticism in our own language, for the sake of brevity, interposing
euch qualifications and explanations as may serve to illustrate and explain it.
In respect to the act of sense-perception, one of two positions may be taken. The mind is endowed
with the power of perceiving material objects by a direct and intuitive energy, without the intervention
of any intermediate object ; or, the mind can perceive material objects only through the medium of some
intervening object.
It will here be observed, that the alternative does not relate to the conditions of such perception
whether material or physiological. It is simply a question whether there are or are not intermediate
objects in the psychological act.
If the first position be taken, then the only obligation which rests upon the philosopher, is to state
the conditions which are essential to the act, and to analyze the act into its elementary constituents, as
given in, or inferred from our conscious experience and careful observation.
The person who takes the second position is bound to show why this hypothesis is necessary. The
natural and universal belief of mankind is, that objects are perceived directly. He who asserts that
this is impossible, ought to give some reason for deviating from this belief. The several reasons that
are to be found in the whole history of philosophy, are by Hamilton reduced to five groups, underlying
each of which is a single fundamental principle. The first of them is, that an act of cognition is an act
of the mind ; and to suppose that the mind should know that which is not itself, is to suppose that it
can go out of itself. To this it is replied : 1. That if we cannot explain how it is possible that the mind
should act on that which is not itself, it does not follow that it cannot be a fact. The fact may be
oltimate, and for this reason inexplicable. 2. The principle proves too much, for it will involve the
inference that the mind cannot act upon matter, as it manifestly does in volition. 3. Moreover, it will
carry with itself the consequence that matter cannot act out of itself upon the mind, and of course can-
not produce a representative image of the object.
The second reason is, that mind and matter are substances not only of a different, but of the most
opposite natures. "What knows immediately, must be of a nature corresponding or analogous to that
which is known ; the mind cannot, therefore, know matter directly ; an intermediate something must be
interposed. This reason is of the widest prevalence, and underlies almost every theory of representative
perception. It accounts for the great variety of interposed media which have been suggested by both
ancients and modems. When this medium has been akin to the mind, it has given the intentional
species of the schoolmen, or the ideas of Malebranche and Berkeley. When it has been supposed to be
identical with the mind, it has given the gnostic reasons of the Platonists, the preexisting species of
Avicenna, the ideas of Descartes, Arnauld, Leibnitz, Buffon, and Condillac, the phenomena of Kant, the
external states of Dr. Brown. To the influence of this assumption, are to be traced the systems of the
absolute identity of mind and matter, of exclusive materialism on the one hand, or of spiritual idealism
on the other.
This grand assumption is to be rejected as arbitrary, unphilosophical, and contradictory to our
plain experience.
The third reason for this hypothesis is, that the mind can only know that to which it is immedi-
ately present. External objects can hence be brought within reach of the mind only by means of some
representation intermediate. The proper answer to this reason is, that the mind is present in every
part of the body so far as to act and to be acted upon, and that the real object of immediate percep-
tion is some part of the body as excited to a specific sensation. The correct view of the relation of the
soul to the body, and of what is the real object of the mind's external perception, sets aside this third
reason.
Peid and Stewart attempt to set it aside by a failure to conceive these points rightly, and they
require some agency of the Deity, and an iuexplicable connection between the sensation and perception,
which is unphilosophieal and unsatisfactory.
The fourth ground is stated by Hume, that the same object, as a table, at different distances changes
its dimensions, but the object itself does not change ; therefore the object must be apprehended by an
intermediate and changing representation. To this it is answered, that the same table is not perceived,
so far as vision is concerned, when near and remote, but a different object in each case is the immediate
object of sense-perception.
The fifth reason stated by the elder Fichte is, that, as the will must act in view of intelligent objects,
these must be within the mind ; so far then as it acts in respect to material objects, these must be
represented in the mind.
To this it may be replied, that the act of intelligence is in the mind, and that is all which is required
em the condition of the act of will. Besides, the act of the will respects future results, which must neces-
240 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §207.
sarily be mediately represented. It is not denied that the mind is capable of mediate knowledge. The
question at issue is, whether the act of sense-perception is an act of this kind.
After having shown that this hypothesis of a representative perception is unnecessary, Hamilton
shows at length that it does not stand the tests by which every legitimate hypothesis may properly be
tried. These conditions are : (1.) That it be necessary, and be more intelligible than the fact Avhich il
explains. (2.) That it shall not subvert that which it proposes to explain, or the ground on which it
rests. (3.) That the facts in explanation of which it is devised really exist, and are not themselves hy-
pothetical. (4.) That it does not subvert the phenomena which it seeka to account for. (5.) That tho
fact which it seeks to explain must be within the sphere of experience. (6.) That it works naturally
and simply. The hypothesis of representative perception fails to answer to any of these conditions, and
must therefore be rejected by every true philosopher. The Works of Thomas Reid, D.D., etc., etc. ;
Preface, Notes, and Supplementary Dissertations, by Sir William Hamilton, Bart., Edinburgh, 1846 ; lec-
tures on Metaphysics, etc., etc., Vols. I. and II., London, 1858 ; Am. Ed., vol. I., Boston. Gould & Lincoln,
1859; Discussions, etc., etc., London, 1852; An Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy, etc.,
etc., London, 1865; Am. Ed., 2 Vols., Boston, 1866.
§ 207. If we pass from the schools of Great Britain to those of France, Condillac at
once attracts our attention, for the interpretation which he gave to the principles of
Le Condillac, B. jj0C]je) aB fellas for the special theory which he formed of the sense-perceptions. In
his treatise on the Origin of Knowledge, 1746, he recognises sensation alone as the one
source of our ideas. He leaves out of view reflection, and resolves all our spiritual
ideas into sensations, as rendered more energetic by attention, and as recalled by the memory under the
laws of association. In his Treatise on The Sensations, 1754, he gives a subtle analysis of the operation
of the several senses as acting singly and in combination. His Logic deserves also to be consulted for
careful and precise definitions of the several acts of knowledge. But, the Traiie des Sensations is re-
markable for its ingenuity and its consistency, as well as for its oversight of some of the most important
elements in the phenomena which, the sense-perceptions involve. The doctrines of Condillac anticipate
many of the views of Dr. Thomas Brown, of the school of Herbart, as well as those of the modern
Cerebraliets. Those most distinctive are the following :
1. The mind is passive in the acquisition of its sensations, because the cause which produces them,
is from without ; when these are recalled, it is active, because their reproduction is owing to a cause
within, viz. ; the memory. In neither case is the mind conscious of effort. It knows only the different
quality of its sensations. A strong sensation is ordinarily from a real object, a weaker one is recalled by
the memory. All the conceptions which Condillac expresses concerning the sensations, are in entire
consistency with this view. The human being is represented as a statue to which the several senses are
supposed to be imparted or at least the capacities for experiencing them, beginning with smell and end-
ing with touch. Each of these sensations is a purely subjective experience, indicating at first not even
the ego which is the subject of them, much less the existence of the body, or the relations of extension
or externality. The senses of touch and of sight are as entirely spiritual as the others ; single sensa-
tions of each suggesting neither time, extension, nor externality. (Traiie d. S., p. 1. c. ii. § 11.)
2. The modifications of the soul from present objects are sensations ; the same, when recalled by the
memory, are ideas. All ideas are simply reproduced or transformed sensations. A single sensation
occupying the soul exclusively is a state of attention. Two sensations or ideas experienced together
constitute comparison, and comparison involves judgment or the sensation of difference or likeness.
But in attention, memory, comparison, or judgment, there is nothing required but the coming and going
of sensations and ideas under the stimulus of association. All these, usually conceived as activities of
the soul, proceeding from and referred to the personal self, are no more nor less than simple states of
existence that are pleasant or painful, involving necessarily no reference to the subject of them by him-
self, or to an object not himself.
3. The knowledge of extension arises on occasion of the sensations of touch. Several sensations are
experienced at the same time, as in the head, the fingers, tho stomach, and the feet. The soul cannot
experience them distinctly, i. e. attentively, together, without separating them one from another— i. e.,
without viewing them apart, or as occupying space. But this feeling of extension is only vague, and
without involving either the knowledge of any thing material, or of the measures of space. (Traiie, d. S.
p. 1, c. iii. §§1, 2.
4. Body and matter are discovered by the application of the hands to the surface of one's own body,
coupled with the experience of sensations within this surface. In this way the soul learns its own body,
which is nothing but certain sensations of touch, bounded by others. Having learned its own body, it
learns other bodies—/, e., material things. By moving its arms, and not finding objects within its reach,
It gains its knowledge of space as distinguished from the extended objects which occupy it.
Material objects are simply collections of sensations, qualities being sensations only. The extended
sensations of touch,or tho sensations of touch conceived as extended, form tho substance with wh;cli tho
other sensations are connected as qualities. Timo is but a series of consecutive sensations along which tho
memory passes with ease by a ready association.
The Theory of Condillac is a theory that recognises sensations only, and does not provide for th*
§209.
THEOEIES OP SENSE-PEKCEPTIOX. 241
knowledge of the ego, or the non-ego, or for the apprehension of space or time. All the professed
explanations of the origin of these conceptions, or of the time when, or manner in which, they are gained
by the mind, are inconsistent with Condillac's fundamental principles. The principles of his theory
provide only for sensations, passing and repassing through the mind as shadows come and go over a
field, and they exclude even the possibility of consciousness, much more of perception as acts of proper
knowledge.
The theory of Condillac was that generally accepted in Prance for nearly three quarters of a century,
till the beginnings of a better system, under Laromiguiere, Royer-Collard and Maine de
Biran.
n-^lsf7Uiere' P' § 208# laromiguiere delivered lectures on philosophy in 1811 and 1812, in which, while
seeming to supply certain defects in Condillac, he taught principles that were entirely
inconsistent with his system. (Legons de Philosophie sur les principes de VinleUi-
gence, etc. Paris, 1826.)
First of all, he asserted the activity of the soul in the acquisition of all its knowledge. In sensation,
he held that the mind is passive. But in acquiring knowledge by sensation, the soul is both active and
passive, it being passive as sense and active as the understanding. The understanding is the common
appellation for the three faculties of attention, comparison, and reasoning. Attention is always required
in any act of sense-perception. Comparison and reasoning are necessary for many of the more com-
plicated objects. The acts and ideas of sense-perception are the joint product of the sense and under-
standing.
Laromiguiere does not discuss in detail the special conceptions or relations of extension and of
externality, and, indeed, rather furnishes materials for a theory, than actually applies them.
§ 209. This distinguished philosopher and publicist exerted a far more powerfu.
influence than Laromiguiere on the theory of sense-perception, as he also did upon
P °pG IT63-4845 speculative philosophy. His lectures were delivered in the same years with those of
his associate, and portions of them were published by Jouffroy in connection with his
translation into Prench of the works of Eeid. This was eminently appropriate,
inasmuch as his theoiy was suggested and matured under the impulse given by the perusal of Reid's
Essays. It is in effect the same theory in its principles, only more exact and complete in its details.
The additions which he made to it are similar to those which were suggested by Dugald Stewart, at a
somewhat later period, but without the knowledge that Collard had made those which, were similar.
The contributions of Collard are, however, more in the spirit of a profound and exhausting system than
those proposed by Stewart. The chief points made by him are as follows :
1. He distinguishes sensation and perception in the same manner, and with no greater exactness
than Reid and Stewart. Sensation is co-extensive with all the senses, but perception is restricted to
sight and touch — preeminently to touch.
2. In perception by touch we know impenetrability and extension, or a solid and extended some-
thing. But this is not all that we know. ¥e proceed to affirm them as qualities or attributes of a substance
which is not ourselves. In the sensation occasioned by a hard body, I am affected in a particular
manner. This is the sensation ; and I at once refer this to a something different from myself. But I
do more : I confidently believe that this something existed before I touched it, and that it will exist
afterward. I enlarge my knowledge still more ; I believe that this enduring something is the cause of
those modifications called sensations. My perception involves, therefore, the relations of externality, of
substance, of duration, and of causality.
3. These conceptions or relations are attributed to the external world by a process termed induction,
or natural induction. This term is substituted for the suggestion of Reid, and the propriety of using it is
explained and justified by the analysis given of the process itself. For, according to Collard, it is in
some sort a process, and not a simple intuition, such as Reid would make it to be. The intellect
proceeds on this wise. It observes by consciousness what happens to itself. It is conscious of its own
states as modifications of its own ego, or, in other words, it knows the relation of attributes to substance
to be true of itself. In like manner it knows itself to continue to exist, and thus is aware of itself as
enduring. Moreover, it knows itself to be the cause of its own actions. Finding these relations of
substance, duration, and causation in its own inner experience, it transfers them to objects without, by
what Collard calls induction ; which is not, however, founded on probable evidence, or conducted by
analogy, but necessary and original to the soul.
4. In a way similar to that in which unlimited and necessary duration is affirmed on occasion of the
experience of limited time, we pass from the limited extension of which we are cognizant by touch to
unlimited and necessarily existing space. This also is by induction.
It is not till external objects are thus known in all these relations of substance, space, time, and
causality, that perception is accomplished.
5. The reference of those qualities which are thus known by conscious modifications and relations^
of the soul itself, to the objects which have been previously perceived, is a subsequent process, and hence
these qualities are said to be secondary, while the others are called primary. Whether color is a primary
or secondary quality, Collard does not discuss nor decide.
16
242 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §210,
§ 210. This profound and noble thinker was intimately associated -with Collard in
1811-'12— years so memorable for the dawning of a better philosophy in France. He
Fp'g 1^66-182*' Justly deserves to be calle<l tne moet profound and original French metaphysician of
the present century. He made some important contributions to a better theory of
sense-perception.
1. He boldly asserted and successfully defended the activity of the mind in sense-perception. It
was the central doctrine of his philosophical system, that the mind knows itself as an agent or cause.
To the vindication and inculcation of this truth he devoted his chief energies, and for the original and
independent manner in which he reached this position for himself, and developed it to others, he merits
the honors of a discoverer and an eminent philosopher. In sense-perception, he held that the mind is as
truly active as it is passive ; and it is by distinguishing between its passive reception and its active
exertion that we are enabled to explain the various phenomena which require solution. The mind
knows itself as an individual cause or agent. This knowledge is distinct from that which it has of itself
as a substance, as well as from its knowledge of substance in general. We begin with this as a datum.
We know this fact by inner experience. We exercise individual force in individual activities. We know
this fact best and most certainly of all facts, and we constantly employ and imply it in all our othei
2. He made great advances toward a correct view of the physiological conditions of sense-percep-
tion. The element furnished by these conditions, he sharply distinguished from that contributed by the
mental or psychical agent. His physiological views are far more profound than those of Descartes. He
is preeminent above Locke, Reid, Stewart, Brown, and Collard, in conceding to physiology all the share
of influence which it can reasonably claim in the phenomena of life and sensation, while he asserts for
the intelligent soul a distinct and appropriate energy.
He insists, with emphasis, on the reality and importance of the purely vital functions ; on the action
and reaction which the appropriate vital stimuli produce and excite, in sustaining and furthering the
life of the body. He recognizes also all the physiological conditions of sensation, and their capacity to
affect the mind with more or less energy, and to be affected and directed by the mind's own active intel-
ligence. In the writings of Maine de Biran, physiology first receives proper recognition and due honor,
without being suffered to encroach upon the limits of psychology. Whether or not his views of physi-
ology would all be accepted, those which are most essential are well-founded, and for the first time find
their just recognition in the philosophy of sense-perception.
3. He distinguishes and accounts for the origin of the two relations of externality which are involved
In sense-perception. The diversity of the organism from, the spirit or ego is given by the manifest dis-
tinction recognized by the mind between the affections of its own causative energy and those of the
organism which often resist this energy and stimulate it to reaction. The exteriority of material objects to
the animated or ensouled body is discerned through the muscular effort which the active soul is capable
of employing, and to which it is stimulated by the reflex activities of the body itself. This muscular
effort tending toward, or productive of effects as directed by the intelligent and active ego, is resisted by
other agents than the organism which it animates and coutrols. The mind attributes this resistance to
another cause than itself, by actual induction, or by the analogy of its own experiences, transferred to
objects in space other than the man himself (Hamilton, Works of Reid, note D).
The mind knows itself not only as a cause, but as a permanent cause. Through this, or in connec-
tion with this, is given the apprehension of time. The knowledge of the organism with which the soul
is connected, gives or occasions the belief in space. How, or by what process, Maine de Biran does not
explain. He simply asserts the fact. He attempts no solution of the accompanying betief that both
space and time are unlimited.
4. He made more subtle and precise the distinction between sensation and perception. The human
being, as body and soul, comprehends what may be distinguished as four distinct systems : the affective,
the sensitive, the perceptive, and the reflective. The affective system includes those bodily capacities of
being affected and of counter action, which are essential to the functions of life and of health ; many of
which, through the intimate connection between the vital organs and the organs of sense, exert an indi-
rect but a most powerful influence over the sensations themselves. Thus the various causes of a given
condition of the brain or stomach or nerves, which in their operation and effect are wholly beyond the
range of our sensitive appreciation, may directly or indirectly bring the organs of 6ense-proper, or these
very organs when they become sentient, into a condition involving special sensations of pleasure or pain,
or one modifying the quality or intensity of these sensations.
The sensitive system is the capacity to be plcasurably or painfully affected by the 60ul as connected
with the extended organism, either by simple reception of a stimulus, or the counter action to which the
stimulus excites. As the sensation is always pleasurable or painful, it is attended with 6ome reference
by the subject of it, to the ego which enjoys or suffers. But this may be the most indefinite possible,
and, so far as it is simple sensation, it involves the vaguest knowledge of the ego— knowledge so vague,
that the individual is not distinguished as an individual--nor is it separated from the extended organism
with which it is united. Into this state wo tend to sink back when wo fall into faintness or sleep, or
when delirium render? us incapable of definite knowledge or the assertion of individual energy in tb«
§211. THEOEIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 243
control and direction of the organic self. These sensations, and this sensational life, have laws of their
own, according to which every sensation experienced leaves an influence, partly affective, in the hody
only, partly sensational in the sensory, predisposing hoth to act again with more readiness in response to
the approprate stimuli, and laying the foundation for greater ease in repeated and habitual action, as well
as for the return of associated sensations in dreaming and delirium. The lowest form in which the sen-
sational life is manifest, is in the so-called latent or dream sensations. None of these are wholly unre
'iated to the ego, hut they are known only by the feeblest and the most passive cognition.
The perceptive system begins its activity when the active ego knows and directs itself as a causo.
By this criterion it distinguishes itself from its passive affections, makes definite and distinct its sensa
tions in the different parts of the organism, and refers them to organs. It also distinguishes external
objects from the organism, fixes them as beings in their places in the external world, and assigns their
activities, as well as its own, to their positions in the series of time.
These ijpo elements— the sensitive and the perceptive— are combined so closely in our actual expe-
rience, that we do not distinguish them from one another. Each element acts also with varied intensity,
so that we are capable of conditions varying from the purest and most passive animal sensation in which
there is scarcely the smallest ray of intellectual activity, to that of the purest and most spiritual intel-
ligence in which scarce a vestige of sensation remains.
It is easy to see how, from these fundamental data, De Biran would evolve the distinction between
the primary and the secondary qualities of matter. Those properties which are referred to their external
causes or objects by direct and necessary cognition, are the primary qualities. Those which are indi-
rectly, and by a secondary act of reflection, referred to those agents or causes which have already been
defined and determined, are secondary.
These views of M. de Biran produced a powerful influence upon the French philosophers of his own
and of the succeeding generation. Where they were not accepted and reasserted in their detail, they
were in their principles and most important results. Cousin devotes but little attention to any psycho-
logical analysis of sense-perception. He is chiefly occupied with the more comprehensive relations of
speculative philosophy. He has taken into his system a single feature of De Biran's theory of the per-
ception of externality. Jouflroy did little more than apply the results reached by De Biran in the sharp
and well-sustained distinctions which he drew between physiology and psychology.
§ 211. In G-ermany, Leibnitz is the earliest writer who attracts our attention. He was
•v, •+ n -TO- more °f a metaphysician than psychologist ; and yet he contributed some important
1646-1718. * ' hints to tne theory of sense-perception, which have been worked out and applied by the
modern school of Herbart. His follower, Christian "Wolf, wrought out his principles
into a system of psychology, in which the definitions are very exact, and the doctrines
of his master are rigorously and consistently developed and applied. We have already noticed the doc-
trine of apreestablished harmony between certain states of the body and the corresponding affections of
the mind, which Leibnitz urges, to avoid the doctrine of occasional causes, or of the constant interference
of the Deity in every perceptive act. The doctrines of Leibnitz, in respect to sense-perception, are in
his Nouveaux Essais, Theodicee. and Monadologie. Those of Wolf are given in the Psychologia Em-
pirica and Psychologies Rationalis, Frankfort and Leipzig, 1732 and 1734.
The peculiar doctrines of this school may be stated under the following heads :
1. Definitions of sensation and perception. Sensation is the power or faculty of perceiving external
objects by means of the changes which they produce in the corresponding or appropriate organs of the
body. Perception is the power which the mind has of representing any object to itself. Sensation and
perception are distinguished as a generic and specific kind of knowing. By the one, the mind knows or
represents any objects whatever. By sensation, it knows objects by means of changes effected or indi-
cated in the bodily organs. These significations are those to which these terms are limited. The con-
ceptions appropriated to the two terms are not clearly, certainly tbey are not forcibly distinguished.
Indeed, there is scarcely a trace to be found of the conception of sensation as the pleasurable or pain-
ful subjective affection of the soul which conditionates perception. This is entirely consistent with the
general doctrines of Leibnitz. The function of feeling in general, and the several kinds of feeling in
particular, were all resolved by Leibnitz and Wolf into different sorts of perception or representations by
the mind. Cf. Nouveaux Essais, B. ii. c. viii. § 15, for the remarks respecting the resemblance or corre-
spondence between pain and the motions of a pricking pin. Appetite — i. e., conative feeling — is the
tendency in the monad, of one perception to another.
2. The act of perception is representative, and the result is a representative idea. This is a special
application of Leibnitz's doctrine of monads. According to this doctrine, the universe of matter and
spirit consists of monads, or ultimate particles, each endowed with a power to represent, or respond to
every other monad, in accordance with its individual nature. Material things or objects, as we call
them, consist of a number of these conjoined. A spirit is a single monad, of far higher powers to repre-
sent than the monads which are material. What Leibnitz intended by the word to represent, is not easy
to decide; and it seems necessary to believe that he intended by it to signify only, to be affected by, tG
act, and to react, to have a relation to. Cf. Nouv. Ess., B. ii. c. 8, § 15. " De la ressemblance ou rap
port exact," etc.
244 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §212.
In accordance with this general definition, an act of knowledge or perception is defined to be the
representation as one, of that which is manifold or composite. The soul by reason of its superior nature,
has the power to represent or reflect as one or as a whole, the composite material universe, more or less
perfectly. Portions of the same it can do with a still greater degree of perfection — i, e., such as are near
and strongly affect the organs of sense.
By perception, we gain sensuous ideas. These represent to us only figure and size, situation and
motion. It would seem from this that all our perceptions are of relations of extension only, and that our
perceptions of color, smell, etc., might he resolved in the final analysis into the discernments of different
motions or positions of the particles in the objects, their medium, the organ of sense or the brain. This
is the only possible construction which can be put upon much of the language of Leibnitz and "Wolf. If
this construction is correct, it is obvious that they entirely overlooked and confounded the distinction
between the conditions of a sense-perception and the consequent affection of the soul. That they could
have done so, is rendered probable by the circumstance that Locke often does the same ; tBht multitudes
of physiologists are, at the present day, committing this identical mistake ; and even those psychologists
who appear to know better, are perpetually falling into it. That Leibnitz should have done so, is the more
probable if we reflect on the real import and logical tendency of his doctrine of monads, so far as it could
be used to explain psychological phenomena. That this is the just interpretation of his views, will be ob-
vious from the importance attached by him to the distinction between obscure and distinct perceptions.
For Wolf's definition of idea, see Psych. Emp., § 48 ,* of a sensuous idea, id., § 95. For his doctrine
of representation, see Psych. Eat., §§ 91, 92. "Wolfs language can only be construed as teaching the
doctrine of mediate knowledge in its grossest forms, the sensuous image being like the material image,
and the material image like the material object.
3. Gradation of Perceptions. The perceptions are clear or distinct, on tho one hand, and obscure
or confused, on the other. Examples of the latter are such as we experience when we are giddy or
faint, or are just awaking from sleep. Such, in a greater degree, are experienced in profound sleep
without dreams.
Our ordinary perceptions, when at all distinct and definite, are examples of the former. VThen t(
this distinct objective cognition, the mind adds the distinction of the ego from the non-ego, perceptioi
becomes apperception. Hence, apperception is sometimes defined as the reflective or conscious knowl
edge which the mind has of its own states, and sometimes as the knowledge of the non-ego.
Every act of clear perception is attended by the obscure perception of many objects. Often it hap
pens that the obscure or confused perceptions need only a slight addition to render them distinct, ar.
" the perception of light or of color which we apperceive is made up of a great number of slight percept
tions which we do not perceive separately, and a noise which we perceive but do not notice (apperceive)
becomes apperceptible by a slight addition." It is by the superior capacity which the human has abov<
the brute-soul, as well as by the greater perfection of its bodily organization, that his apperceptions art'
so much superior to theirs. It is because he perceives so large a portion of the universe so obscurely
that he is interior to the Deity.
The doctrine of obscure perceptions figures very largely in the psychology of Kerbart, who also
adopts many other of the principles of Leibnitz. M. de Biran makes a free use of his principles, though in hi*
hands they often serve to point to a better and sounder application, and as clues by which he is guided to
the truth of which they are but exaggerated and one-sided statements. Hamilton also accepts it in part,
but adopts it with less than his usual discrimination and caution, vide Met. Lee. 18.
4. Externality and extension. Every apperception gives the relation of externality in the way ex-
plained under No 3. As to the relations of extension and space, these can only be understood by Leib-
nitz's peculiar theory of both space and time. Space and time, in his view, are purely relative, and space
is defined as an order of coexistences, or as the relation between coexistent objects. It must follow that, as
soon as two objects are distinguished by an act of apperception, and are also apprehended as coexistent,
they must be known to exist in space. The apperception of two such objects together, as non egos, of
course involves the apperception of their relation to one another, which is nothing else than the space
which the mind must distinguish from itself.
§ 212. Tetens, (John Nicholas,) Professor of Philosophy at Kiel, in his Philosophies
„ Essays upon the Nature of Man and its Development, distinguished himself as one of th«
1736-1807! most sagacious and profound philosophers which Germany has produced. In some very
important points he corrected and set aside the views that were received from Leibnitz
and Wolf.
His principal work, which was tho manual of Kant, is entitled Philosophischc Versuche iiberdic mens-
chliche Natur und ihre Enlwickelung, Leipzig, 1772. Tetens deserves to be called the Reid of Germany,
for the good sense with which he thinks and the clearness with which he writes. But he is far superior
to lleid (whemhe criticises with great acutcness) in philosophical learning, as well as in the originality,
subtilty, and sagacity of his thoughts.
Tetens vindicates first of all tho reality of tho distinction between feelings and cognitions, as
against Leibnitz, ne distinguishes between the emotions which are purely spiritual and the sensations
whjch are bodily. He distinguishes also between perception as the cognition of any non-ego, and the
§214.
THEOEIES OF SENSE-PEKCEPTION. 243
apperception of a definitely cognized completed material object, or complex of percepts united in a
whole. He shows that perception, kiits lower and higher forms, involves the activity of the judgment.
He insists that the mind, in all intellectual functions, is active. All these were very important, and for
their time extraordinary contributions to the theory of perception.
His theorj is at least questionable in some points of detail. While he distinguishes between sensa-
tion and perception, he at times makes sensation itself a kind of perception, as when sensation itself is
described as apprehensive of objects. Some of his language would seem to imply this. On the other hand
ne distinguishes between the pure sensation and the intellectual cognition or consciousness of it, and
finds, in the longer or shorter continuance, and the more or less definite character of different classes of
eensations, the reason why some are necessarily referred to external objects by an intellectual judgment,
and others 6eem to be merely subjective affections. It is never the original sensation, but its prolonga-
tion or repetition, which leads to perception. The non ego of Tetens is uniformly the not body, as con-
trasted with and distinguished from the embodied spirit.
§ 213. Kant, the great metaphysician of Germany, has treated of sense-perception
only indirectly. He has given no formal theory of its processes, but has metaphysic-
Immanuel any analyzed its results, and thus has indirectly taught a partial theory of the power
1724-1804. itself and its functions. First of all, he implies that the soul, in its sense-perceptions,
is passive or receptive only. He contrasts the receptivity of the soul in sense with its
activity or spontaneity in the understanding. He indirectly teaches, by the assumptions that underlie
his whole system, that the process of sense-perception is not complete until the understanding, by the
judging power, conceives under some of its forms, the matter given by sense. Had he distinguished
between the natural judgments which concern individual things and their relations, and the secondary
judgments that contemplate general conceptions, there could be little to object to in his theory; but this
omission is fatal to its completeness and its truth. Sense stands on the one side as a purely passive
receptivity of individual objects, and the understanding, on the other, as active indeed, but as concerned
with generalized concepts alone.
Of the relation of sensation to perception, Kant teaches that sensation gives the matter, and per-
ception— i. e.,— intuition— furnishes the form. The form essential to any and every' act of external
intuition is space. All material objects, so far as they are perceived at all, are perceived in some rela-
tion to space — that is, they are perceived as extended objects. Kant recognizes this as a fact of actual
experience. "But the facts he subjects to no further analysis, least of all does he examine farther the
process by which the product is reached. Instead of studying the fact in its conditions and elements,
he seeks to account for its possibility and the trustworthiness of its results, on the ground of specula-
tive philosophy. For this reason, his discussion of space has an intimate relation to the theory of sense-
perception, and the conclusions which he reached have entered into the discussions of all physiologists
and psychologists since his time. This conclusion was, that space and time must be assumed as tho
necessary conditions of our subjective experience in both consciousness and perception, yet we are not
thereby authorized to believe in their objective reality. "We cannot, indeed, perceive any material object
by means of the senses without involving necessary relations to space directly, and indirectly to time.
It does not, however, follow that space is a reality. It is supposable, though not to us conceivable, that
to minds constituted differently from our own, the forms, with the relations which they involve, should
oot be necessarily assumed. Kritik der reinen Vernunft. El. lehre, ii. Th., 1 Abth. ; ii. Buch, 2,
Hauptst. 3 Absch.
In respeet to the reality of external objects, Kant recognizes the fact in our psychical experience,
that material objects are not only perceived as extended and spatial, but also as external; or in other
words, as non-egos. In sense-perception this distinction is necessarily involved. The act includes this
as an essential element in the process, and its result. It does not follow, because the mind makes this
distinction, that there is a reality corresponding to this non-ego. (1.) The non-ego as a being, is trans-
cendental to all phenomena. (2.) It is posited in space which is necessary as a form of sense but which
may be only an illusion. Kant undertakes to demonstrate, on the ground of speculative necessity,
that this is impossible. He contends that we must assume that there is something permanent and real
without, in order to account for the changing modifications within. Even the self, or ego, is not experi
enced as a permanent something. It is only concluded to exist as the thought-conception of a spiritual
substance with capacities for spiritual acts. All that we are conscious of, are our changing modifications
in time. These can only be rationally explained by a permanent reality which causes them. Of the
existence of an external world, we can be rationally assured, but of it, have no direct perception.
The theory of sense-perception was discussed by the successors of Kant chiefly in its purely
metaphysical relations. In the writings of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel, still I26S attention is given to
psychological analysis, metaphysical principles and relations being almost exclusively discussed.
§ 214. Herbart, on the contrary, though holding a definitely-conceived metaphysical
system, has given great prominence to its physiological development and its psycho-
1776-1841. *' logical applications. His speculative views of the nature of the soul, of the elements
of matter, of the nature of knowledge and its fundamental relations, of space and
time, etc., are fully expounded by him ; but in connection with them he has drawn
246 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 21d
out a developed theory of the functions and processes of the soul. His theory of sense-perception rnaj
be briefly stated as follows : *
The soul, though a simple substance, is capable of being excited by the action of various material
stimuli to various reactions of its own. Certain classes of these, when experienced, are sensations.
A sensation is the soul's reception of, or its reaction against the material stimulus. The sensation*
differ from one another in quality or kind on the one hand and in energy or intensity on the other.
As the several sensations are experienced, each continues to exist in the soul, with a force or ten-
dency to reappear. As soon as the favoring conditions present themselves, past sensations do reappear in
the order of the soul's original experience of them. "When such a series is viewed [experienced ?] from
one sensation as fixed it is viewed in time ; and by the mutual struggles or tendencies of several series cl
experienced sensations to gain possession a second time of the soul without success, the mind forms tho
idea of pure or simple time.
The apprehension of time prepares the body for that of space. Sensations experienced and recalled
in the time series, are disputed by other sensations and series of sensations that struggle to occupy the
soul. To provide for the possibility of these mutual struggles, and under the experience of the pressure
which they create, the mind constructs a conception of space first as occupied, and then as empty or void.
Thus, time and space result to the mind as the effects of mutually blended or mutually repelling
series of sensations.
"When space and time are produced, that which is next developed is the apprehension of the differ-
ence between bodily affections and material objects. This results from an experience of certain positive
sensations, particularly those of touch joined with those of the muscular sense. A certain portion of
space within the body is measured in every direction by various time-series of sensations, terminated by
those appropriate to superficial touch. Other sensations we project beyond the surface of the body, at
greater or less distances, all of which are measured by successive time-series of sensations, in experience
or imagination.
Sensations which do not occur within the space of the body, nor on its surface, as explained, are
projected beyond — i. e., are apprehended as not within its space. This constitutes perception in the
lowest, or elementary degree. Afterwards are developed apperception, or the knowledge of mental
states by a secondary act of knowledge ; then the knowledge of substance and its attributes ; then a
knowledge of material things, or of material substances with material attributes and space-relations.
Herbart's theory of the sense-perceptions, though modified greatly by his metaphysical theory of
real, or intelligible,— as contrasted with psychological — time and space, is yet, so far as the sense-percep-
tions are concerned, substantially the same with that of Condillac, and not far removed from that of Dr.
Thomas Brown, of Edinburgh. His metaphysical theory, being closely allied to the monadic doctrines
of Leibnitz, is not in the least inconsistent with the purely subjective character of the phenomena of
sense-perception. This is only another example of the vain attempt to develop the perception of the
objective out of the experience of the subjective, and to explain the apprehension of extension and the
space dimensions by theories which suppose them to be known already.
§ 215. This gifted philosopher, theologian and scholar, deserves to be named for the
very important contributions which he made to the theory of sense-perception. These
bchleierma- were partly indirect, as he opposed so decidedly the current of the great leaders of
metaphysical speculation in German, by rejecting many of the assumptions which are
fundamental to their systems. In part, also, they were direct, in the positive doctrines
which he taught in respect to the conditions and nature of sense-perception as a process. The relations
of space, time, substance, and cause, he held, as against Kant, to be real forms of things, and not merely
the forms of our apprehension of things. The reality of time and space must be assumed without mis-
giving or questionings. Being is directly apprehended, as well as phenomena and relations. To all the
combinations and constructions which we make in knowledge, we attribute actual reality. Thought,
which, in Hegel, is the all in all, the originator of all power and products of knowledge, according tc
Schleiermacher, is but a dependent attendant upon sense. In sense-perception there are two essentia)
elements : the receptive, styled by Schleiermacher " the organic function,'''' and the a ]^iori or sponta-
neous, called "the intellectual function.'' This last is an act of knowing by relation?, or thought, and, as
bo defined, is an important improvement upon Kant and lleid, and even upon Hamilton.
Schleiermacher, moreover, teaches that the two elements, the organic and intellectual, are present
indifferent proportions in the different faculties and acts of sense-perception, anticipating in this tho
law of Hamilton respecting the inverse proportion of sensation and perception proper. Cf. Dialektik,
%% 107-114, §§ 118, 119, §§ 123-131; Psychologic, (L. George,) pp. 76-133.
§ 216. The services of this eminent physiologist ought not to be overlooked. This
distinguished man united in himself a completo mastery of physiologj', the rare ac-
1801-lSrf811Cr' companiment of a just appreciation of psychological phenomena, and a competent
acquaintance with speculative philosophy. In his analysis of the 6oul and of sense-
perception, he assumes the reality of time and space. He sets in the clearest and most
convincing light tho truth, that the sensations aro only varied forms of idiopathic affections of the
several sense-nerves, which may bo produced by any stimulus whatever, from within as well as withou*
§ 216. THEORIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 247
the 130(17. These affections constitute the matter of sense-perceptions. This, in all cases, is apprehended
by the mind in more or less definite relations of extension, as modifications of the bodily organism or th«
?ensorium. It is because the sensorium is extended, that its affections, when it is excited to action, giva
us the knowledge of space-relations in material things. Even the visible universe is first seen in th*
retina, as a picture no larger than the extent of the retina itself. This is afterwards enlarged and pro-
jected by the mind. Hamilton was doubtless indebted to Miiller for some of the most important sug-
gestions toward his own theory. Cf. Muller, Handbuch der Physiologie des Menschen, II. v. ; also the
same, translated by William Baly, Lond., 1848.
Of the later, mostly living German writers, who have contributed to the theory of perception, we
need name only : H. Lotze, Medicinische Psychologies etc., Leipzig, 1852 ; Mikrokosmus, 3 Bde., Leipzig,
1856-1864 ; A. Trendelenburg, Logische Untersuchungen, Berlin, 1840. 1864 ; L. George, Die funf Sinne
Berlin, 1846 ; Psychologie, Berlin, 1854 ; H. TJlrici, Gott und die Natur, Leipzig, 1862 ; Gott und der
Mensch, Leipzig, 1866 ; I. H. Fichte, Anthropologic, Leipzig, 1856 ; Psychologie, Leipzig, 1864 ; W. Vorl-
ander, Grundlinien drier organischen Wissenschoft der menschlichen Seele, Berlin, 1841 ; A. Helferrich,
Der organismus der Wissenschoft, etc., Leipzig, 1856; K. Fortlage, System der Psychologie, Leipzig, 1855 ;
W. F. Volkmann, Grundriss der Psychologie, Halle, 1856; Th. "Waltz, Lehrbuch der Psychologie, Braun-
Bchweig, 1849 ; M. L Schleiden, Zur Theorie des Erkenntniss dutch den Gesichtssinn, Leipzig, 1861 ; G«
Th. Fechner, Elemente der Psychophysik, Leipzig, 1860; W. Wundt, Beitragezur Theorie der Sinne*
teahmehmung, Leipzig, 1862 ; Fr. Uberweg, System der Logik, etc., Bonn, 1857.
248 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §217.
PAET SECOND.
REPRESENTATION AND REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE.
CHAPTER I.
THE EEPEESEKTATIVE POWER DEFINED AND EXPLAINED.
Representation is exercised after Presentation, and should be considered next ; the higher
power of thought requiring the development of both the other powers. The power to
reproduce cannot be employed until something has been first produced which can be
revived or recalled. There must be experience in sense-perception and consciousness
before material objects or psychical states can be brought back again by memory or
imagination. Presentation furnishes the material or matter for representation. Repre-
sentation is indeed largely mixed with presentation. What we call our perceptions and
acts of consciousness, consist very largely of remembrances and images. But although
presentation is perfected by the aid of the representative power, it is before it in the
order of psychological development.
§ 217. Representation or the representative power may
defined?11 a 10n be defined in general, as the power to recall, represent,
and reknow objects which have been previously known or
experienced in the soul. More briefly, it is the power to represent objects
previously presented to the mind. It is obvious that in every act of this
power the objects of the mind's cognition are furnished by the mind
itself, being produced or created a second time by the mind's own
energy, and presented to the mind's own inspection. It follows that repre-
sentation, in its very essence, involves a creative or self-active power.
Thus, I gaze upon a tree, a house, or a mountain. The object perceived is the tree, the
house, or mountain, before my eyes. I close my eyes, and c my mind makes pictures when my
eyes are shut.' I at once represent or see with ' my mind's eye ' that which I saw just before
with the eyes of the body. One needs only to try the experiment upon the objects on which
his eyes are now resting, to find an example of the exercise of the power of representation,
and to mark the difference between its objects and those of sense.
My eyes make pictures when they are shut.
I see a fountain, large and fair,
A willow, and a ruined hut. Coleridge.
My father— methinks I see my father !
Horatio.— Oh, where, my lord ?
Hamlet.— In my mind's eye, Horatio. Shakespeare.
In like manner we hear a sound, either singly, as the solitary note of the pigeon, or
several sounds in succession, as the caw, caw, of the crow, the roll of a drum, or the notes of
§217. THE REPRESENTATIVE POWER DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 249
a musical air. Let the sounds cease. We can still distinctly recall tliem, and seem to heal
them again with the mind, though the mind makes for itself all the sounds which it seems
to hear.
In a similar way we can represent the percepts that are appropriate to the senses of touch
of tasting and of smell ; reviving the touch, taste, and smell by and for the mind alone
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory.
Odors, when sweet violets sicken,.
Live within the sense they quicken.— Sheliey.
We are not limited to sensible objects, or to sense-percepts,
sensibieobjects.0 in the exercise of this power. We can as truly represent
the acts and the affections of the soul itself. Not only can
we with the mind's eye behold the tree and the mountain previously seen,
but we can represent the act of the mind by which we beheld it, as also
the delight which the sight occasioned. We not only hear a musical air
the second time, but we revive again the idea of the accompanying pleasure.
So it is with the relations in which the objects were presented at first.
The objects themselves can not only be recalled as objects, but they can
be recalled as related, or as totals made up of the objects as connected by
the several relations under which they were originally known. Whether
these are relations of space or time, of self or not-self; whether necessary
and permanent, or casual and changing ; whether intellectual or emotional —
whether objective or subjective ; — whatever we apprehend in presenta-
tion, can be recalled in representation.
But the activity of the mind in this general function is not
poweSr.a° ' limited to the power of representing objects previously
present. It has another power over the objects of past
experience. It can so far modify them as to transform them into new
creations. It becomes in this way, in an eminent sense, a creative power.
It can combine together pictures of sense and consciousness of which the
parts have been given before, and on occasion of such materials it can
evolve what are worthy to be called new creations. That the mind pos-
sesses this twofold power, all are conscious by the fact of exercising it.
The mind not only can depict a man, a tree, or a mountain as actually
witnessed, but it can alter the form, the dimensions, and the appendages
or accidents of each, taking parts from the one and attaching them to
parts belonging to the other. So, also, it can create or imagine a Lilli-
putian, a Centaur, a Parnassus, an Abdiel. The representative power in
this higher form is called, as we shall see, the fancy or the imagination.
In the exercise of this power, of which these acts are examples, it is
obvious that the mind is to be viewed subjectively and objectively. Sub-
jectively viewed, it performs acts ; objectively, it furnishes objects for its
Awn subjective apprehension. These objects are furnished from its own
previous acts, or the several objects appropriate to those acts ; but when
presented for the mind's inspection, they are objects to its apprehension,
250 THE HUMAX INTELLECT. §218.
Thus, if I recall a painting previously seen, my act in seeing it, my feel-
ings or choices with respect to it — the whole, or any part of this complex
activity, becomes an object to my present act.
§ 218. The power thus to act is called the representative, in
tti^power?18 f°r distinction from, and in contrast with the presentative power.
In sense-perception and consciousness, the mind presents to
itself for the first time the objects of its direct and original knowledge.
In representation, it presents these objects a second time, or represents
them.
It is also called reproduction, or the reproductive power, because the
mind, by its own energy, under appropriate circumstances and in obe-
dience to certain laws, reproduces objects previously known.
It also involves the power to retain and conserve, in a certain sense,
that which has been acquired by the mind. To this capacity the name
of retention has been given, or the retentive power. To these three dis-
tinguishable relations of the power, Hamilton has not only assigned
separate appellations, but has treated them as separate faculties, viz.,
the conservative, reproductive, and representative faculties (Met. Lee.
xx.). The activity of the mind in retention and reproduction is so entirely
out of consciousness, and so little can in any way be traced or conjectured
in respect to it, that it seems more philosophical to consider and treat
retention and reproduction as the conditions of representation, rather than
as distinct faculties. It is implied in the power to represent, that there is
a power to reproduce ; and in the power to reproduce, that the mind can
retain or conserve.
We have already (§ 47) distinguished between the capacity of the soul to provide and
present, so to speak, objects for the soul to inspect or know, and the power and act of the
soul to know or apprehend them when presented. This capacity is observable in all the soul's
knowing faculties, and in all the forms of its knowledge. But it is especially conspicuous and
interesting in the representative faculty. The process of furnishing the objects for the soul's
cognition is purely psychical. The material conditions are scarcely worthy to be considered.
The laws under which the objects are retained and given up are spiritual. They are also very
numerous, complicated, and interesting. It is owing to the circumstance that these processes
are so peculiar and so necessary, that, by some writers — as Hamilton — a special faculty has
been provided of retaining, and another of reproducing, and another of representing the
objects of the mind's cognition and recognition.
It is also called the creative power, the constructive or productive
imagination, when it evolves new products. This exercise of the repre-
sentative power has rarely received a technical appellation.
The terms of common life and literature which are applied to the various
Appellations in forms of employing and applying representation are conception, memory, recol-
common use. lection, reminiscence, fancy, and imagination. But none of them are used
in a precise signification, so far even as the common needs of men require.
Much less will any admit of a technical or philosophical application. Thus conception, which
is taken by Dugald Stewart to signify the representation — as act and object — of sense-per-
§219. THE REPRESENTATIVE POWER DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 251
cepts, is, both in common life and in philosophy, used to denote objectively the concept, no.
tion, or general conception, and subjectively the power to form the concept, etc. Again, it
seems, like Locke's idea, to be the common appellation for any and every object of the mind's
cognition. Fancy and imagination are used now in a narrow sense for special acts of thf
representative power, and again in the very widest applications of this term. No one of
these terms is either popularly or technically used to designate the one power which, as concep-
tion, memory, fancy, and imagination, is exercised under common conditions and in conformity
with common laws. Some technical term must be selected and employed, and none is more
appropriate than representation, or the representative faculty.
This appellation, like many of those used in common life, gives prominence to the object
with which the mind is occupied in knowing, rather than to the act of the mind in knowing
it. It has already been stated, that the powers of the mind are better known and distin-
guished by the objects which they produce, than by the acts through which they produce
them. It is natural, therefore, to name and define the powers as well as the acts of the mind
by or after the objects through which they are most distinctly manifested.
§ 219. The objects of the representative power are, as has
representative already been implied, mental objects. They are not real
things or real percepts, but the mind's creations after real
things. They are spiritual or psychical, not material entities, but in many
cases they concern material beings, being psychical transcripts of them
believed as real or conceived as possible. When they concern the sou]
only, they are not the real soul, or its present acts, but psychical tran •
scripts of the real soul in a past or possible condition of action. They
are in no sense object-objects, but are preeminently subject-objects. A<<
objects, they are distinguished from the act of the mind which apprehends
them : as subject-objects, they are created by that very mind, and exist
only for that mind. As represented subject-objects, they always indicate
auother reality, whether spiritual or mental. The starry heavens which I
see with the bodily eye, exist as a permanent occasion or object of vision,
whether the eye is open or shut, whether it is attent or roving. But the
starry heavens which I see with the eye of the mind, exist no longer
than the beholding mind creates and upholds it in being. The mental
experience which I recall is a real object while it is passing ; the same
state as recalled, is an object while it is recalled and confronted as having
been a fact. But while this representative object is preeminently depend-
ent on the mind for its being, it is yet clearly distinguished from the mind
which regards it, and from the feelings with which it is known.
But though the object of the representative power is a
aSno?gS£S! mental object, it is an individual object. By this character-
istic it is distinguished from a thought-object, or an object
of the intelligence. Thought-objects are both mental objects and subject-
objects, and, in an important sense, representative-objects ; but they are
generalized objects — they are universals. Objects of representation are
like them in that they are purely mental objects, yet are unlike them in
being individual. Whether we recall these objects, or create them —
252 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 22 G
whether we copy, as exactly as we can, from an original in nature, or
create constructions the most fantastic, grotesque, or unnatural, they are
all individual. Falstaff, Hamlet, Ivanhoe, Jeannie Deans, Don Quixote,
Tarn O'Shanter, the Eden of Milton, the Faery Land of Spenser, are all
individual beings in the imagination that originated, and the imagination
that reconstructs them after their first originator.
When we speak of the same object as recalled or recreated — when we assert
thesJobjects are tbat tlie same individual object comes and goes, it will, of course, be under-
the same. stood that the same individual object exists only so long as the mind keeps it
alive. When, then, the same object is said to be recalled a second time, it
is not literally the same individual, but it is copied after the same original, — the same as revived
or recreated, and capable, in this sense, of being recalled again and again, though perhaps in
each case with individual deviations. For example, I look at a tree, and then close my eyes
and picture it to my fancy. I do it again and again, reproducing what we call the same
mental picture of the same tree. The picture is the same, so far as it is a true mental copy
of the same original. But each picture is itself a fresh and new individual product, and
therefore a separate individual object. The same is true of the mental pictures of what we
call original creations of the fancy.
§ 220: The presented object was known by the mind not
rSv^r^iatio^?" onV as a being, but in its relations, as of diversity, space,
time, etc. ; so the object as represented, must or may be
known again in all these relations, with all those in addition which are
implied in its being represented. It has been abundantly established,
that an object cannot be known unless the relations appropriate to its
kind of knowledge are known also : so in represented knowledge we
must be capable of recreating the objects in their original relations, as
well as of recalling the so-called objects as such. It should be remembered,
however, that a relation as such — i. e., a relation as separate from an object —
as it cannot be apprehended by sense-perception or consciousness, so it can-
not be recalled by representation. A relation, as such, cannot become an
image or picture to the representative power (cf. § 424).
The representative power, not only by the representative act
Relations pecu- ,, , , . . , i • . , . , . . . ,.
liar to represen- recalls the object in the relations in which it was originally
known, but the existence and exercise of this power involves
relations that are peculiar to itself. Thus, in recalling a tree or a horse
previously perceived, or a mental act of knowledge or state of feeling, I
not only bring back the tree or horse as extended and external, and the
psychical state as subjective and in time, but, in recalling it, I must know
it as a subject-object, and as having been previously perceived or experienced
by myself. These relations are both necessary and peculiar to the repre-
sentative power. The notice of them here is but an illustration of the
principle that in knowledge of every kind the apprehension of some rela-
tions is essential, and that every mode of knowledge has its special
relations.
§221. THE KEPKESENTATIVE POWER DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 253
For the objects of this power we have no appropriate technical name. The
name for the ob- exigencies of common life do not require such a term, and the nicer distino
power °f tMS ^ons an(* ^e sPec^a^ applications of philosophy have not been established
long and precisely enough to lead to the formation or the appropriation of
any term with a precise and technical significance. The words image and picture might be
properly applied to the represented percepts of vision ; but to speak of the image of a sound,
smell, or touch, would be incongruous, if not offensive. Still less tolerable would it be to
speak of the image — i. e., the revived impress of an act of knowledge or feeling. Conception
cannot be accepted, as was proposed by Stewart, for it is too frequently applied to other and
very different objects. Idea would be more significant, if it could be forced back to its
original and etymological import ; but idea has, since the time of Locke, been compelled to do
all manner of service, and been literally compelled to signify " whatever the mind can be
occupied about in thinking" — thinking being held equivalent to every species of mental
activity (cf. Locke, Essay, B. ii. c. viii. § 8). In the earlier days of the English language the
representative power was called imagination, or phantasy, and then images and phantasms
were appropriately and literally applied to its objects. But if it is impossible as yet to find
a term like image to which we can attach a precise and literal signification, it should ever be
remembered that the objects of this power are individual objects, as distinguished from the
concepts, or notions, of thought. But, though individual, they are purely mental entities; yell
while they are beings of the mind, they are, as objects, contrasted with and distinguished from
the mind that creates and beholds them.
Conditions and § 221. The conditions and laws of the representing power
taSn reconsid- should next be considered. The mind, in representation, as
in the exercise of all its powers, acts under limitations and
according to laws. That it can perform certain operations and evolve
certain products, is to be explained only by asserting that it is endowed
with, or finds itself possessed of a capacity to act in this or that manner,
and to originate the appropriate products or results. Thus the mind finds
itself, so to speak, actually perceiving, remembering, imagining, and
reasoning.
From the fact that it possesses and exercises a power, it does not fol-
low, however, that it is exempt from the limiting constraint of conditions,
and the regulating force of laws.
In representation, man does not, like the great Originator, create «by
his fiat or from nothing, his world of mental objects. It is only from the
elements or the suggestions of past presentations that he can construct any
representations at all. What he reproduces or constructs anew, is in some
way dependent upon what he has previously experienced. But more than
this is true. Not only must every thing which is represented be repro-
duced from or by means of some past experience, but what is represented
at any moment depends upon what was present the instant before.
Thus : I see a person whom I have previously seen, at a place well remembered, under
circumstances of peculiar interest. The sight of this person brings back, as we say, the image
of each of the persons present, one after the other, of the words spoken, of the events which
occurred, etc., etc., till the mind has wandered through a series of pictures, drawn from the
acquisitions of the past. Each new scene opens new objects, from one to another of which the
mind is carried forward by a force and tendency of which it is not aware, till on a sudden it
254 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §222.
awakes, comes to itself, and is surprised that it has wandered so far from its starting-place—
wonders how it came to its present position, from which it vainly strives to thread its way
backward.
In such a succession of connected and dependent representations, we observe not only
that one act is dependent upon another, but that they are connected by definite and distin-
guishable relations. In one case the present object that suggests the object represented, is a
material thing ; at another it is a mental affection ; at another it is an object represented only,
which brings up another representation, — image suggesting image, one after another.
These objects are connected, now by having been perceived or expe-
rienced together i» making parts of a contiguous scene, now by having
followed one another in the original presentation ; now, one presentation
or image is like another ; or a presentation resembles an image and the
converse ; or perhaps one was the cause, or the effect, or the reason, or
the inference of the other. The fact that one object or image brings up
another to the mind, is called the association of ideas. The conditions or
laws under which the mind recalls one object by means of another, are
usually called the laws of association. The term is open to exception,
because both percepts and experiences are connected with images, as truly
as images [or ideas] with images. The phrase is, however, too firmly
established in general acceptance and use to be set aside.
The conditions or laws under which the mind recalls one object bv
means of another, are called the laws of association. The consideration
of these laws is a prominent and interesting topic in the discussion of the
representative faculty.
Representa- §222. The representative power, though marked by com-
into several mon characteristics and obeying common laws, is divided
varieties. m^0 geverai varieties or species. These are separated from
one another by the completeness or incompleteness of the pictures which
they make of the objects once presented ; by the fidelity with which they
adhere to, or the liberty with which they deviate from their originals ; by
the laws of association which predominate in each variety, and by the ends
for which the power is exercised, and the uses to which it is applied.
The most perfect exemplification of the exercise of the repre-
rerfect memory, sentative power is an act of perfect memory. In order to
know what an act of perfect memory is, we need only reflect
upon the essential constituents of a presentative act, as already explained.
Such an act is always complex, involving the object, the action, and the
agent, united by their mutual relations into one indivisible state. If the
object is material, it involves certain relations of space ; the action, being
one of a continuous series, involves relations of time ; the agent, being
of body and soul united, must exist in every act under relations of both
space and time. When a single act of presentative knowledge is recalled
in all these elements of object and relation, the representation is complete,
and the act is an act of perfect memory. For example, yesterday I took
§222. THE REPRESENTATIVE POWER DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 255
a walk to the top of a neighboring eminence. To-day I recall distinctly
the landscape which I saw, in its minutest features — re-creating, as I do, a
distinct and vivid picture of the scene ; and not only of the scene, but of
myself as beholding it, with the actions before and after, with my feelings
also in viewing it, and the very accidents of place where I sat or stood
during the view. This is an act of perfect memory. It is perfect or
complete, because it includes every element of the original.
As time goes on, it is possible that one or other of these
imperfect mem- elements should be recalled far less distinctly, or should be
omitted altogether. It is possible that I should be able to
bring back the landscape only as an object, and be certain, as I see or
think of it, only that I once saw it before ; but how or when, or with
what feelings or from what point, I do not recall. Or possibly the object
may be lost, and the subjective feelings may alone be revived and recog-
nized as having been before experienced. Relations of time and acces-
sories of place may both be lost. Thus, when I see the face of a person
in a crowd, I know that I have seen it before ; but when, or where, or
with what feelings, I cannot recall. I remember a familiar passage of
prose or poetry ; I know that I have read or heard it ; but when, or with
what feelings or attendant circumstances, I cannot tell. All these are
acts of what may be called imperfect memory. The representation is
incomplete in some of its elements. Much of our acquired knowledge
is retained and recalled by such acts of memory.
Memory is not only distinguished into varieties by the greater or less
completeness with which it recalls the past, but also by the class of asso-
ciations under which these objects are represented. According to this
criterion, we have the memory of space and the memory of time, the
.spontaneous and the philosophical, the ready and the retentive, the
natural and the artificial memory.
But memory, whether perfect or imperfect, is clearly distin-
piiantasy. guishable from phantasy, or the imaging power. This is
representation without the recognition that the objects
recalled have ever been perceived or experienced before. Examples of
this are such as the following : I look distinctly at the front of a dwelling,
the form of a horse, or the outline of a tree, each of which I wish to
retain and make wholly my own. I close my eyes and picture each dis-
tinctly to my mind. The undivided force of my attention is expended
upon the object, and so successfully, that it becomes a permanent posses-
sion as an object, without any accessories of either place or time. I may
have travelled, and furnished myself with abundant pictures of beautiful
objects in nature or art — of rivers, lakes, mountains, or wide expanses
seen from lofty heights ; or I may be absent from home, and the home-
stead, the accustomed apartments, the grounds, the garden, the beloved
faces, haunt me with their presence. In all cases of disturbed fancy,
256 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 222.
often called phantasy, visions of objects seen before, but not remem-
bered or recognized, throng in upon the soul. Especially if rapturous
joy, poignant sorrow or harrowing remorse, have left ineffaceable impres-
sions of scenes and persons beloved, hated, or feared, will these images
re-present themselves without bidding. There may be no recognition, no
knowledge that the object is familiar or has been seen or felt before.
These acts are acts of imaging, called by Dugald Stewart, acts of simple
conception. They are more likely to occur in those conditions of the soul
in which the action of the reason is nearly suspended, or permanently
set aside, as in reverie, dreaming, monomania, and partial or complete
insanity.
But the mind can do more than simply represent the past
vSTes?0115"8 witn greater or less perfection, with or without the act of
recognition. It can recombine or construct anew the mate-
rials which the past furnishes for it to work with or upon. In such acts
it becomes imagination. Of imagination, as thus defined, there are several
forms or varieties.
1. The mind may neglect or leave out of view all things
Themathe- . J -o ^ &
maticai im- existing in space, and all events occurring m time, and form
agination. k . Pn . « . „ -i /» •
to itself pictures of void space, and of time more or less ex-
tended or limited. Within these voids it can make, by its own construc-
tive energy, geometrical figures, and arrange series of numbered objects,
and thus provide for itself the materials of mathematical science. This
is the mathematical imagination.
2. It can separate and unite the parts and attributes of
rhantasy prop- 0]3Ject;s an(j existences, both spiritual and material, in divis-
ions and combinations which never actually occur. These
separations and unions may be effected for no high end either of reason
or improvement, in obedience only to the more obvious and the lower laws
of association. Thus, the chimney of a house can be set upon the hump
of a camel, and the ears or head of a donkey upon the body of a man. Or
horses may be colored red or yellow. This is phantasy proper, whose
effects or products are simply grotesque, or, as we say, fantastic.
3. Objects may be recalled in wholes or in parts, and recom-
Poetic fancy. bined and reconstructed under the obvious and more natural
laws of association, in forms attractive to the feelings and
approved by taste, for the ends of wit, humor, or amusement. This is
fancy proper, which, as exemplified in literature and some of the fine arts,
may be distinguished from the higher imagination.
4. When the higher objects of nature and spirit are recalled,
tion, in the recombined, and created, with the aid of the nobler laws of
association, for the higher ends of ideal elevation and im-
provement— when, in addition, the better feelings are addressed and
excited, and the higher capacities of man are called into action, then the
§ 223. THE EEPKESENTATIVE P0WEE DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 25 1
power becomes poetic imagination. The sphere of this power is not
poetry alone, but eloquence, music, painting, sculpture, architecture, and
landscape gardening ; inasmuch as all afford opportunities for the expres-
sion and excitement of the sentiments and suggestions which dignify this
noble form of the representative power. This is imagination as con
trasted with fancy.
5. When the combinations and creations are effected for the
oi?inagSination." purposes of research, invention, and instruction, and under
laws of association which are grounded on scientific or
thought-relations, we have the special application of the representative
power which is called the philosophic imagination.
The philosophic and the poetic imagination may be limited to special
services of ethical improvement and religious incitement, and constitute
an important element in ethical ideality and religious faith.
8 223. The interest and the importance of the representative power is
Interest and lm- „,,,„,,. . , . .
portance of the enforced by the following considerations :
tivepoewer.nta" L First of all> tte exercise of tnis power ministers pleasure of a high
order and in great variety, which is independent of the accidents of fortune
and circumstances. The soul, from childhood to old age, delights in the pictures of its own
creating, whether these are copied with simple fidelity from the beings and events of actual
experience, or are painted for mere delight in the wantonness of fancy. Besides the interest
derived from the objects created, it finds a satisfaction of the highest order in the very act of
creating. Whether these acts are exercised by the infant in its endless combinations of play
and sport, or the simple story which it rudely and painfully groups together of two or three
incidents, or whether it is employed by the novelist or poet who constructs the highly-wrought
fiction on which he lavishes all the resources of his knowledge and his skill, the pleasure of
creating is the same.
2. Man often flees to the unreal world of the fancy, to find rest and relief from the highly-
wrought excitement of the too earnest and engrossing real world. Hence, in day-dreaming
or reverie, he enjoys simple relaxation and not wholly inactive repose. Often the fancy gives
more than relief and rest — it ministers positive solace and comfort. Ideal objects furnish
associations more pleasing and emotions more satisfying than any which the experience of
reality can awaken. The sick man forgets for a brief moment his actual weariness and pain,
in the scenes of health and action which he imagines. The prisoner is enlarged from his celL
The oppressed forgets his wrong. The homeless dwells under the shelter of a roof which is
his own. The hunted exile, or the disgraced outlaw, returns to his country, loved and longed,
for.
3. This power is the necessary condition of all the higher functions of the intellect, and,:
in fact, of every description of intellectual achievement, development, and progress. The
thought is almost too obvious to express, that memory is the servant of thought and the
conservator of our acquisitions ; that, without the record of facts, principles could neither be
formed nor used. It was not by an idle fancy that Mnemosyne was said by the ancients to be
the mother of the Muses. Were the mind limited to the objects and the activities of the
present, it could make little progress of any kind. Thought would be almost impossible.
Generalization, by which many objects are viewed as one, would be restricted to the few
present objects that could be brought within the range of a single act of comparison. When
the act was finished, it would be lost forever. It could never be reapplied to a new object,
or be enlarged in its sphere. The new individual objects of sense and of consciousness would
17
258 TIIE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 224.
also be isc lated. They could not even be named, for each would stand apart in the loneliness
of its own individuality. Language would be impossible.
The induction of principles and of laws would be excluded, for, however nearly the
mind might infer that a common law controlled the objects perceived at a single gaze, neither
the objects nor the principles learned through them, could present themselves a second time,
the one to be exemplified or the other to be explained. There could ■ be neither invention nor
discovery. Even in mathematical science both would be impossible ; for it is only as the
mind imagines new constructions in space and new combinations in number, or their symbols,
that it can develop new theorems or solve new problems. Creations of art would be excluded ;
for the constructive brain of the painter and sculptor must go before or with the hand that
guides the pencil and directs the chisel. The inventor in mechanics, the composer in poetry
or music, the thinker in morals, philosophy, and letters, the deviser of beneficent schemes for
human well-being, are each and all dependent on the resources of the imagination for every
possible conjunction of cause and effect, of tendency and result, out of which to find what it
seeks or to effect what it desires.
We may say, indeed, that the representative power in the double activity of the memory
and imagination are as indispensable to the higher intellect, as are the senses and the con-
sciousness which furnish the material for it to work upon. The one gives this in the original
form ; the other revives it with new freshness and in a more plastic condition. Ko more
manifest or more serious error can be committed, than for the philosopher to decry the im-
agination as injurious to, or inconsistent with, eminent scientific activity and achievement.
Without the ministry and service of this subtle and ready agent, the thinking power can have
only the scantiest material to work upon. According to its activity and its wealth are the
reach and opportunity of the higher intellect.
The practical uses of the imagination are not to be overlooked. It creates ideals of what
we might be and do, which are far higher and nobler than any thing which we are or which
we perform. It lifts us above ourselves and the examples we observe in real life, furnishing
nobler standards to, which we may aspire. It constructs images of a better existence and of
a better society than our residence on earth can furnish. It makes to us attractive sugges-
tions of that Unseen Being, to whose goodness and greatness the highest and brightest of our
imaginings can give us only feeble and faint approximations. A pure and elevated imagination
is in many ways allied to a noble ethical nature, and favors an ardent and a sustained religious
faith. If the representative power is so varied in its functions, and so important in its influ-
ence and uses, it may reasonably attract our attention if we would truly know ourselves.
CHAPTER II.
THE REPRESENTATIVE OBJECT ITS NATURE AND IMPORTANCE.
Our general view of the representative power has furnished us with three leading topics :
The objects or products of representation, the conditions or laws of its activity, and the
varieties of representation as determined jointly by these different objects and laws. We
begin with a particular consideration of the first of these — TJie object in represen-
tation.
why the object § 224- Tne product of the representative power, or the
Sum nCSespe- object which the mind creates and apprehends in memory
ciai discussion. an(j imagination, has been the occasion of much confusion of
§ 225. THE REPRESENTATIVE OBJECT ITS NATURE AND IMPORTANCE. 259
thought, and not a little controversy. Scarcely any single topic has beei)
more vexed in ancient or mediaeval philosophy, than the nature of ideas
or representative images. As the term idea in the English language
is applied to the widest possible range of objects, so these controversie?
either include or trench upon almost every possible question in meta-
physical philosophy, beginning with the images or species, material or
quasi-material, that were supposed to be given off from every object
perceived ; and ending with those eternal ideas which Plato and his fol-
lowers held to be the archetypes of all created beings, and which they
even hypostatized into actual and almost divine agents. These contro-
versies and questions respect ideas of perception, of memory, of imagi-
nation, and of thought — ideas a posteriori, or ideas of experience, and
ideas a priori, or ideas that are original and necessary. But to all these
the ideas of the memory and imagination have a very close relation, and
hence a just determination of their real nature will go very far toward an
accurate understanding and a satisfactory solution of the questions and
controversies which concern the remainder. In respect to this class of
representative ideas, three topics or heads of inquiry present themselves :
I. The nature and mode of existence of the object which the mind remem-
bers and imagines. II. Its relation to the original, from which it is
derived and to which it is referred. III. The special service which it ren-
ders in thought and action.
I. The nature and mode of existence of the representative object.
§ 225. These objects or products, as has already been stated
SiobjectF" (§ 221)> are psychical existences. They exist in and for the
soul only. They are at once the products of the mind which
brings them into being, and objects for that same mind to cognize or con-
template. Whether they are transcribed from real beings and real acts,
or whether they are created out of the materials or upon the suggestions
which real objects furnish, makes no difference with the nature of the
objects themselves. These are purely psychical and spiritual. It makes
no difference whether the original is material, or spiritual; the idea or
image of each and of both is simply a psychical object.
In any state or energy of representation there is distinguishable the act and the object.
These two can be distinguished, but not divided. When I represent the sun, or the stars by
night, or my own act or feelings when I beheld them, the mental object which I contemplate
is severed in thought from the mental act by which I think of them. They cannot be severed
in time or in fact. We cannot by one mental effort, create the object and hold it in waiting
for a second effort by which the mind turns upon it its apprehensive gaze. The two concur
together. The one element is given and is present with the other. The creation of the ob-
ject, and the mind's inspection of it, are as one.
We do not here bring into view that concealed and subtle activity by means of which the
mind retains or is moved to recall the object. This activity and this influence is out of con-
sciousness, and is to be sharply distinguished from those elements which consciousness dis-
criminates and records. It is with these only that for the present we have to do.
260 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 227,
. x § 226. The mental object is as transient and evanescent as
It is a transient ,.,.., ,
and short-lived the act by which it is brought into being. In this respect
the mental object is strikingly contrasted with objects that
are real. The acts by which we know both psychical and actual objects,
are for a moment. They die as soon as they are born. They cease to be
at the instant in which they begin. But it is not so with these two con-
trasted objects. The real object alone is fixed and permanent. To it we
3an come and from it we can go, and find it still the same. But the psy
chical transcript or creation is as shortlived and evanescent as the act by
which we behold it.
They should he § 227. The psychical objects of the representative power are
from^ecteaind to ^e carefully distinguished from those spectra or halluci-
haiiucinations. nations which are the result of an abnormal or morbid
condition of the sensorium or the nervous organism. The one are
psychical, the other are psycho-physical. The one are spiritual in their
nature, the other are dependent upon the soul as connected with the
sensorium.
Hallucinations, or spectra, are intimately related to those subjective sensations which, as
we have seen, are caused by any excitement of the sensorium by means of subjective agencies
as distinguished from material objects (cf. § 342). In certain conditions of the human system,
the sensorium is capable of being so excited — sometimes by psychical and sometimes by
physical agencies, and sometimes by both conjoined — as to give to the mind objects taken
to be sense-perceptions, but which have no actual existence (cf. § 342). These are not
properly representative images or ideas, which are purely psychical creations and objects,
being created by a psychical power under psychical conditions, and having only a psychical
existence. This psychical activity and these psychical laws hold intimate relations to the
sensorium and the psycho-physiological activity ; but the action and the products of the two
are clearly distinguishable, and should not be confounded.
These representative objects are not only psychical, but they are intellectual
They are intel- objects. It has been held by some that memory and imagination when
lectual objects. ^ej recau pas^ psychical experiences of feeling and of will recall the
experiences themselves, and not our ideas of them, (a.) " It is not ideas,
notions, cognitions only, but feelings and conations, which are held fast, and which can, there-
fore, be again awakened." " Memory does not belong alone to the cognitive faculties, but
the law extends in like manner over all the three primary classes of the mental phenomena "
(Ham. Met. Lee. xxx.). This opinion of H. Schmid is apparently sanctioned by Hamilton.
It is a logical inference from one of the doctrines which he seems to advance concerning
consciousness. But if consciousness is an act of knowledge, and knowledge, when matured,
gives, as its products, intellectual objects which we can recall ; then, as when we feel wc
know that we feel, so, when we remember that we have felt, we remember our past feeling
as an object known — i. e., we recall our idea of it (§ 75). Whatever this image or idea may
be, it is not the feeling actually recalled as a real feeling, any more than the mental picture
of the mountain which I remember, is an actual mountain. The feeling remembered, if
pleasant, gives me pleasure ; but it is because I remember the object which occasioned the
first pleasure, as well as the pleasure which it occasioned, that I experience this new emotion.
The pleasure which I enjoy is not the original pleasure revived, but a fresh pleasure from the
object recalled by the intellect, and perhaps a reflex pleasure from the fact that it is revived.
But whatever it be which excites the pleasure, whether the exciting object or the pleasure
§ 229. THE REPRESENTATIVE OBJECT — ITS NATURE AND IMPORTANCE. 201
2xcited, it is the object, or the pleasure as remembered — that is, as an intellectual object— «
which is apprehended by the mind. The representative object is not only a psychical, but
it is also an intellectual object.
II. The relation of the representative idea to its original.
8 228. The represented object holds a positive and close
The relation can a r: . . , -• -. . i • i •
*»e compared relation to the real or original presented object, which is
with no other. , .,, i -, • i--i
sui generis, and can neither be resolved into, nor explained
by any other. We say that the one is taken from or is suggested by the
other ; that the one is true or false to the other ; that the one is known of
recalled by the other ; that the one is like or unlike the other. What pre
cisely the relation is which these phrases describe, it is not so easy to de-
termine. It is important at least to distinguish it from those relations
with which it is often confounded, and thus to clear away the many errors
into which philosophy has often been betrayed.
For convenience, we distinguish the objects of representation into two classes.
Two classes of The first includes those which are copied or transcribed from originals in
representa- A °
tive objects. nature — the objects that appear in recognition or memory. The second
includes all those which imagination, in any of its forms, modifies or con-
structs from the materials or suggestions which nature furnishes.
We begin with the first — with representations transcribed from nature ; i. e., with the
mental objects that are acquired by perception and consciousness — which are employed in
recognition or are conserved in memory. In respect to all of these, we inquire, What relation
do they hold to their originals ?
Representative § 229. In answer to this question, we observe : (1.) That
: Cand the ideas which we acquire by consciousness or perception
dTnoTresembie ^o not properly resemble them, either as parts to parts or as
then: objects. wholes to wholes. Neither the single features nor the com-
bined wholes of any mental transcripts can by any possibility resemble or
be like the single features or united wholes of any material or spiritual being
or act. A mental object is wholly incapable of being confronted or com-
pared with an existing reality. One material thing can be like another
material thing as a whole and as a part. So can one spiritual being, or a
single spiritual act, be like another spiritual being or act. One tree can be
like another tree, as a whole, or in one or more features, as in size, in
form, in color, in fruit, in effects. One mental state can be like another,
as one affection of hope or fear, of joy or sorrow. One act of perception
can be like another act, in its occasions or attendant circumstances, or in
its subjective quality. But the mental image of a tree cannot be like a
tree, nor can the mental remembrance of a mental experience resemble
or be like the original act or state.
It is true, one of these may be loosely and vaguely said to resemble or be like the other ;
but that this language is only employed in the way of analogy, is evident from the contradic-
tions and absurdities into which those philosophers have involved themselves who have under
stood it literally.
282 the humatc intellect. § 230.
We have seen (§ 201) to what contradictory and impossible conclusions
Contradictions Locke's definition of knowledge, as the discernment of a conformity or re-
in such a theory, semblance of ideas with their objects, exposed himself, and actually con-
ducted Berkeley and Hume. This definition, literally construed, would, on
the one hand, make the knowledge of real existences impossible, by placing the real object
forever beyond the reach of the mind, if the mind could attain it only by means of the men-
tal ideas between which and the original it could institute a comparison and discern a resem
blance ; or, on the other, it would make such a discernment of resemblance superfluous, bj
requiring that the mind should first know the original, in order to compare it with the tran-
script. To say that, in order to know, we must discern that our ideas resemble realities, is to
assume that we already do or do not know the original. If we already know these original
realities, we do not need to inquire whether the representative idea resembles it. If we do
not know the original, we never can acquire this knowledge by finding a resemblance between
it and its mental transcript ; because, to discern resemblance, it is requisite that we should
first have known the objects which we are required to compare.
Many of the theories of representative-perception rest on the mistaken assumption, that
what the mind first and directly perceives, must be some mental idea or transcript, and that it
reaches the original or material reality only as it discerns a likeness or resemblance between the
one and the other. The question would then continually be interposed, * How a thought-object
can be like a thing ? what resemblance is there between a mental picture and a material real-
ity ? ' To relieve this difficulty, third entities were interposed, partaking somewhat of the
nature of the two — something material that was, attenuated almost to spirit, or something
spiritual that was hardened almost into matter — a sensible species, a so-called material idea, or
phantasm, which was conceived to have points of likeness with each of the two extremes of
matter and spirit and served to establish the possibility of resemblance between them.
in memory and § 230. We observe still further, that when we remember or
discfrnmeSt ^f recognize objects which we have previously known, we do
Neon|minTsairapie not discern an7 proper resemblance between the original and
memory. ^ts mental transcript. For example, we look upon an object,
as a house, a tree, a portrait, the page of a book ; or we hear a sound, we
perform some mental act, or experience some feeling; and when the object
is removed, we recall it in our memory. It were simply absurd to say
that we recall the material object by its mental object, or that we remem-
ber the object by its likeness to the mental picture which we revive to our
minds. A discerned resemblance supposes two objects between which the
likeness is seen ; but in an act of simple memory it is plain that only one
object is before the mind. It is therefore clearly impossible that any re-
semblance should be discerned ; inasmuch as two objects are necessarily
required. In recalling or remembering a past object, event, or mental
experience, we simply picture it as having been before discerned or expe-
rienced in fact, and we do this by a direct act of the mind. This pecu-
liarity in an act of simple memory was without doubt what Reid intended
to notice and to emphasize in his assertion, which Hamilton criticises so
often, that in " memory we have an immediate knowledge of the past."
When we recognize a real object by a second or subsequent
rSion in recog" ac* °* knowledge, we do not discern a resemblance between
the object and its mental picture. In such a case we are
§230. THE KEPKESENTATTVE OBJECT ITS NATUEE AND IMPORTANCE. 263
said to recall the picture which we have preserved, and to compare it
anew with the original, and in this way to recognize the object as like the
picture, or the picture as true to the object. This is said with some plau
sibility or verisimilitude ; for it may and often does happen that we turn
from the real object to the mental picture, and again from the mental pic-
ture back to the real object, till at last we are satisfied that the object is
the same, that our recollection of it is correct, and our recognition of it is
well-founded. But in all such cases there are not two objects before the
mind, viz., the mental picture and the original ; and of course no resem-
blance can be discerned between the two. The mind has to do with but a
single object — now with the original, and then with the transcript. It
reverts from the one to the other, but it does not properly compare the two,
nor discern a likeness between them.
When we discern likeness or resemblance, we compare two objects together that arc
homogeneous, as two colors or two forms. But we cannot compare a real object and its men-
tal transcript, by bringing them together in juxtaposition or in immediate succession. We
cannot compare them by juxtaposition, for that would require that the mind should think of
the same object as real and mental at the same instant. We cannot compare them in imme-
diate succession, for this would require that we first know the image to belong to the object,
before we compare it with the object, to discern whether the two are alike. That is, we must
first remember or recognize, in order to compare and see resemblance ; while the theory
requires that we first compare and discern likeness in order that we may remember and recog-
nize.
But if the relation between these objects is not a relation of resemblance, what is it ?
For that some relation is discerned between them, is obvious from the experience of all men,
and from the tenacious uniformity with which it is described as a relation of resemblance.
We reply :
The acts of The relation of the mental transcript to the original can only
memory and re- -r o j
cognition known be understood by considering the acts of mind by which we
by conscious- » o j
nessoniy. acquire and recall them. The maxim has been more than
once repeated, that the nature of mental products can only be understood
by the mental acts which give them birth. To understand the relation
of a transcript to its original, we must consider the nature of the act by
which we acquire it, as related to the act by which we recall and revive
the same.
To bring these acts together, in order to compare them, let them be employed
perception, alternately upon the same object. Let the eye be fixed upon some object,
recognition. aUd as of a landscape, or a human face, and then be alternately opened and shut.
In other words, let the eye of the body and the eye of the mind be occu-
pied upon the same material picture and its mental transcript. In the act of perception I see
the real landscape, or face, in its relations of extension, form, and color. In the act of repre-
sentation, I seem in phantasy to see the same landscape, its extended surface, the several
parts, their relation, form, and size, their lights and shades, and distributed color. It is
pictured or imaged as real, but it is known not to be real. It is known to be created by and
to exist in the mind. Both these acts are known to be real, and so are their products. One
is known to depend on the other, in act and object ; the second, in its object, to be a mentaJ
264 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §231
repetition of the first. In the second, we say we seem to recreate so far as we can by the
mind, the real or material object of the first. The capacity to create a mental transcript
of a real thing is involved in the very power to remember. Each of these acts is original
and sui generis ; and the relation of the one act to the other is as original as are the acts
themselves. This relation cannot be compared to the resemblance between two objects of
perception or two states of consciousness ; between two colors, or two forms, or two feelings,
or two thoughts.
As the eye opens and shuts upon the landscape seen and the landscape imaged, the real
landscape is alternately remembered and cognized. When the eye is shut, it is remem-
bered as having been seen. When it is recognized, it is recognized as the same which ive sato
before, and which we had remembered during the interval ; but in neither case is any resem-
blance discerned. It is involved in the act of memory, that an object perceived should be
recreated by the mind and recalled as real, and also that, when the object is perceived, it
should be recognized as the same which was remembered as mental. Moreover, there is also
involved the knowledge that the object, as perceived and recognized, is real — either spiritual
or mental — and that the object as remembered, was mental only.
When it is said that the mental image is transcribed from the original, or represents it,
the language describes an act and objects which are in one sense sui generis, and incomparable
with any others. The nature of the product or object is determined by the mind's capacity to
originate it ; and the authority of the mind to trust it and accept the objects which its own
activities involve, is to be found in the fact that it finds itself, so to speak, spontaneously
exercising the power. Concerning this peculiar object and relation we affirm positively.
Mental pictures § 231# CO '^ne m en tal picture affects the sensibilities less pow-
less exciting
than real objects
ex?ectsg er^u^y tnan tne perception or experience of the reality. By
the supposition, if the original he a sense or material object,
it must move or excite the senses, and this class of feelings are in their
essential nature absorbing and vivid. If the experience be of a mental
act or state, no recollection or transcript can match the reality in its
power to interest and excite the soul.
Different persons differ greatly in the power vividly to reproduce and make real the past,
and as greatly in the capacity to be moved by it in their sensibilities. Some persons cannot
revive a scene of pleasure or pain without ecstasy or horror ; the very picture or remembrance of
any thing which they have enjoyed or suffered seems to revive much of the delight or pain which
the original experience occasioned. But even the sensibility of such persons to the present
and the real is usually in direct ratio to their susceptibility to the pictures which their memory
revives. That the real object excites more feeling than the same object remembered, is
assented to by common experience and confirmed by universal testimony.
Segnius irritant aminos demissa per aurem
Quam qux sunt oeulis subjecta fidelibus, et quss
Ipse sibi iradit spectator.— Hon. Be Art. Poet.
O, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus 1
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By hare imagination of a feast ?— Shakespeare, Rich. II.
Sometimes, indeed, it happens that a recollected object excites stronger feeling than the
object when directly cognized. Thus, a scene of suffering may be witnessed with little
emotion, which cannot be revived in thought without shuddering. Thus, friends and oppor-
tunities are valued far less when we have them, than when we think of them after they are
§233. THE REPRESENTATIVE OBJECT ITS NATURE AND IMPORTANCE. 2GF
gone. This comes from the circumstance that, when the object was present, we failed t«
attend to or rightly estimate its value or its real character. Memory corrects our careless
observation or our mistaken judgments, and so opens our sensibilities to more vivid emotions.
a mental picture § 232. (2) The mental picture consists of fewer elements than
elements thlma the original. It is but a scanty outline, as contrasted with
its fulness — a skeleton, as compared with its roundness and
life. We look at a real tree, and in the background there is the confused
or vague perception of the undistinguished mass of form and color, while
from it is projected in bold relief a few prominent parts, that attract and
hold the attention. The mental picture of the same, when most success-
fully taken by the best observer, and after the most attentive inspection,
is but a meagre transcript of a few of those details which the attention
caught ; while of the multitude that were only confusedly apprehended,
scarcely can a trace of one, here and there, be recalled. If we test by the
reality the best picture that we can frame in the fancy, we are surprised
at the poverty of the one and the richness of the other.
The mental pic- 8 233. (3) The mental picture is recalled in parts under the
ture is recalled ? , , . , , , .
m parts, siowiy, laws by which one suggests another, and is constructed
and by succes- .. ., __,, _. _. ... . ,,
eiveacts. with comparative slowness. I he reality displays its wealth
of detail as coexistent, to a single view. Or, if we study its details with
attentive analysis (§ 187), we do this with inconceivable rapidity, under
the guidance and suggestion of the object itself. The object, when
re-created in memory, is re-created in the several parts of which it is com-
posed : if a material object, in the several sense-percepts which make it a
thing or whole. If it is extended in space, or manifold or irregular in out-
line, the parts of the surface and outline must be recovered one by one,
under the laws of association, and by acts that are successive to one
another in time. This fact has led many psychologists to reason that
our ideas and notions of space and space-objects can be resolved into and
originally consist of relations and notions of time.
To illustrate these contrasted features, we need select but a single example.
Example from a . . . - ' . . °
scene in nature, It is a precipice up which we gaze. Iirst it impresses us as a whole, diver-
membered. t&" s^e^ by its varied features. Here are the broad faces of perpendicular or
impending rock. These are buttressed by slopes strewn with accumulated
fragments. Here and there are bushy crags and scattered boulders. The whole cuts against
the sky with a notched outline, fringed here and there with nodding herbage, or broken by
some daring tree, that, stayed upon its uncertain footing, reaches out and up toward heaven.
If all this is apprehended by sense-perception, the quick eye first surveys the whole with a
rapid sweep, then runs hither and thither, as it is caught and led by some salient feature, the
rock itself bringing out new material faster than the mind can appropriate it, impressing the
feelings with new emotions of wonder the longer we strive to master its wealth.
Let us seek to image that rock in the mind, at evening, when we are just returned from
a fresh gaze upon its front. In place of the exhaustless confusion of the vaguely-seen whole
to guide and excite the eye, there slowly presents itself the scanty framework of the few parts
which can be recalled by the mind. These parts are recovered one by one, as the mind rests
upon what is already present, and brings back in fragments, and by repeated efforts, that which
266 THE HUMAX INTELLECT. § 234.
it suggests. However exciting the effort to recall and to reconstruct, and however pleasing
the picture that is recalled, yet the impressiveness and exciting power of the reality are wholly
Wanting.
The objects which the imagination in any way combines and
agination! ™" creates do not differ greatly from those which the memory
transcribes, in their relation to the real existences of matter
or spirit. The only material difference between the two can be expressed
in a word — the one represents real, the other possible existences ; the
originals of the one in fact exist, and have in fact been perceived or
experienced ; realities corresponding to the other might exist. In every
other respect the two classes of objects coincide.
When we say, ' Might exist,' so far as the perception or consciousness are concerned, we
do not assert that they might be believed or supposed to exist in consistency with the known
agencies and laws of nature in matter and spirit, but that the relations involved in the' direct
experiences of the facts of nature would allow them really to exist and to occur.
How greatly and in how many particulars imagined objects may be varied from the
originals of nature, and what are the limits within which the imagination can use its power
to create and combine, will be considered hereafter. P. II. c. v.
III. The usefulness of ideas in thought and action.
8 234. The special service of the products of the repre-
In thought, we". r _ *m m x
prefer ideas to sentative power for thought and action remain to be con-
sidered. It has already been observed (§§ 52, 170), that the
process of perception, or consciousness, is normal and complete when it
results in an idea or image — i. e., when a transcript of the individual
object is prepared for future recall. The usefulness of these acquired
facts and of these imagined possibilities of nature will be accepted by
every one. Their absolute indispensableness to secure the past, and to
give range and reach to invention, is obvious to every mind. But it
is not clearly, certainly it is not generally acknowledged, that, for the
purposes of thought, remembrances are often better than percepts, and
that the pale and scanty images which the mind creates are often superior
to the fresh experiences wilich life presents. We often even prefer to
employ mental images, when we might avail ourselves of actual obser-
vations. Very often we take fresh observations for the sole purpose of
giving accuracy and assuredness to our ideas or mental representations.
Often, when we seem to ourselves and others, to generalize or reason
about things observed and experienced, we reason not about the things,
but about our ideas of them. We often turn the fact into a mental pic-
ture or recollection, even while our eyes, our ears, or our attent conscious-
ness seem to be occupied with a present reality.
The idea pre- Tne reason is, that the image, provided it be correct, pre-
tSes 'than fthe sents to tne min<* fewer elements than the reality, and
reality. therefore does not distract, but aids the attention in the
activities of thought. Moreover, the elements which it includes are
§235. THE REPRESENTATIVE OBJECT — ITS NATURE AND IMPORTANCE. 267
usually the very elements or features with which thought concerns itself
For this reason recollection often guides thinking, and aids it in its work.
When we change our perceptions into ideas, or ideate our intuitions,
we retain only what we attend to ; hence the image presents fewer points
or elements than the original. We are likely to attend to what is most
important, especially if we bring to our observations an eye instructed by
the previous training of thought, or the experiences of scientific inquiry.
A mind that is disciplined will of necessity direct the observations of
things to those features with which thought is concerned; and these
points will remain recorded in the memory for thought to classify, or be
recbmbined in the imagination, for thought to invent and to explain.
In a certain sense, representation abstracts while it revives ; as it omits much of what it
perceives or feels, and retains only what it cares for.
When the mind proceeds to compare, to classify, to reason, and to account for, it can
work more readily with these abstracts from things than with the things themselves ; because
the attention is not disturbed by the feelings and desires which realities are likely to awaken ;
because unimportant and trivial individual features do not suggest accidental and distract-
ing relations, and because, also, the ideas of things can be summoned more rapidly and
crowded more closely, and of course compared more readily, than the same number of things,
In so simple an act as to compare twenty apples, in respect to any general feature, the imagi-
nation or memory helps the eye. When we seem to look upon the objects, we ponder upon
their images. Hence, in observations of things which are accompanied with any comparative
analysis or judgment, we close and open the senses by alternate acts. We close the sense,
that we may with undistracted thought think or judge of the image which it gives. Wo
open and use it again, that we may correct or fix the image by or upon which we think.
ideas especially § 235, When the range of objects is wider than any actual
useful in com- observations of sense or consciousness, when most of the
parison. m '
objects to be compared and judged in thought, are removed
from any direct inspection of present activity or experience, it is obvious
that the materials on which we work must be images chiefly. When we
compare the flower or the mineral which we see with those which we
have seen in places and times that are remote, we first ideate the flower
or mineral before us, in order that it may be susceptible of comparison
with those which are known only as images. Things can only be com-
pared with things, images with images ; things must therefore be con-
verted into or viewed as images, before they can be compared with what
are images already.
in higher gene- As the mind widens its range of materials for thought, and
fe^rtl0eilmlntsl rises to higher generalizations, its images of things will need
are required. to consist 0f stiU fewer features— viz., those only which it
needs to use in classification or reasoning. So far as it brings before its
view concrete realities or individual examples, these need only contain
those parts or elements which come into use in generalization, induc«
tion, or argument. The plastic power of representation here comes into
268 THE HUMAST INTELLECT. §237
play, which can readily omit all that it is not necessary to consider and
can easily supply every thing that illustration or discovery may need.
§ 236. Kepresentation can go so far in its abstractions as to leave but a
^rvicef* of the meagre outline, a mere skeleton of a concrete thing, or group of things.
schema. Such a skeleton has been called a schema. Such a schema or outline-image
has been held not only to be the necessary condition for the formation and
use of concepts, but it has been also contended that it is like the concept, in being general, and
equally applicable to every individual thing to which the concept is applicable. For example,
when we speak or think of such general terms or notions as horse, dog, or flower, it is urged
that the mind frames a schema, or outline-image of the form or other relations of each, which
is equally suitable to every individual horse, dog, or flower. This schema, it is urged, differs
from the concept in that it is not divided or severed into constituent elements, each one of
which is regarded as an attribute of a substance, but it remains as an extremely abstracted
whole, which may be applied to every individual horse, dog, or flower. Thi3 view contradicts
the doctrine which we have laid down, that the object in representation is always individual,
and never general. It is true, as is asserted, that we usually connect some image with a
general concept. We cannot easily use general terms, without picturing or illustrating them
to the imagination (cf. § 424). But the image of a horse or dog need not be general, because
it is very scanty or meagre in its features. Suppose it to be merely the outline of a horse's
form ; suppose it to be furnished with a horse's ears, or mane, or tail ; so far as it is imaged,
it must be individual. The reason why it seems to be general, is, that it is so readily changed
when it is brought into contact with a real horse. Being a creation of the imagination, it can
be changed by addition or omission, so as to conform to the horse before us. Or, if no real
horse is perceived, the individual image with which we exemplify the concept is known in all
the features with which we endow it, to stand for every real horse which we chance to perceive,
or which we choose to imagine. It is more correct to say that the schema is representative
rather than general. It is capable of being readily compared with every object of its class,
und hence its preeminent utility. Kant, Krit. d. r. Vernunft u. Prol. ; Schleiermacher, Dialektik,
% 262 ; Vorlander, Grundlinien, pp. 390-392 ; A. Helfferich, Organismus der Wissenschaft, p. 97.
The nature of the outline 'image, or schema, and its relation to the concept, will be still
further considered under the concept. (§ 424.)
We observe, at this point, that it is more than a mere conceit or fancy to say, that, as we
vise from perception to thought, we interpose the image or idea as an intermediate stage,
\being less gross and entangling than matter, and yet more substantial, definite, and concrete
than thought. The image directs and aids the concept, standing, as it does, midway be-
tween it and the percept. On the other hand, the idea, especially when directed by thought,
reacts upon perception itself, making it more intelligent and productive, as it directs the senses
to what features it should attend, and often anticipates what it will find. In this way aimless
efforts are spared, fruitless voyages of discovery are avoided, and the energies of the mind are
expended upon productive objects.
§ 237. Not only do images assist in perception and thought,
for and aid to but they prepare for and prompt to action. If we recall an
object which formerly moved us to excited feeling and im-
pelled us to prompt and energetic action, the thought of the same object
is fitted to excite us again in a similar manner, in real or mimic activity,
in body and in soul. To the human being who has been trained as body
and spirit in the experiences of life, thought, feeling, and bodily action
severally suggest one another in ready and inevitable succession, and the
§ 237. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 269
one element prompts and prepares the way for the other. If an action ia
yet to be performed — if we are to sling a stone, or point a rifle, or throw
a quoit, the image of the act and object held before the mind brings all
the muscles into position, and makes ready for the act required the instant
the act is called for. Hence, in the discipline for feats of bodily dexterity,
a vivid and concentred fancy, a strong and kindling imagination, are of
essential service, as they bring the powers into that position which effective
activity requires. The same is true of discipline to mental exertion, so far
as any purely spiritual activity depends on the distinct conception of an
object. The thought of an enemy to be assailed, or of a wrong to be
avenged, knits the muscles, braces the limbs, and convulses the features.
The savage stamps with rage or shouts with exultation at the pictures
which his fancy paints of his foe or his friend. The cultivated idealist is
convulsed with horror at the pictures which his imagination draws of the
scenes of cruelty which he reads of or conceives. He acts over again, in
fancy, the part which he himself is ready to take in the depicted scene.
So intense and vivid are his conceptions, that he breaks out in audible
words of execration or rebuke, or stamps his feet with indignation, ov
raises his hands in horror.
When men are to act in concert ; as to row, or pull, or shout in unison, or to repel an
assault, or to storm a battery, or in any way to use their united strength, their imagination
must be brought into active service in anticipating beforehand the objects which will soon
present themselves, or the kind of activities in which they are to engage. The ideal is far
better than the real scene for the purposes of discipline and anticipation. The picture is
greatly to be preferred before the reality. The real object may distract and bewilder as well
as arouse and hold the attention. It may over-excite, and so unman. It may bring up un-
expected objects, as well as those which are looked and hoped for. The reality, as compared
with the idea, may hinder action, as it hinders thought. While, then, the idea cannot take
the place of the reality, and discipline, by means of the idea, is of little avail unless it actually
prepares for action, it is essential to such preparation. Nature has provided for this discipline
by the strong impulse which she awakens toward it : she secures great deeds by first awakening
grand pictures in the excited fancy.
CHAPTER m.
1HE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OP REPRESENTATION — THE ASSOCIATION OP
IDEAS.
We have noticed already that the soul, in representation, as in all its acts or functions, is
limited to fixed conditions, and acts according to established laws. Though, at first, it
seems to evoke its objects from the non-existing and the unreal, on a second and a nearer
view, it is clear from our conscious experience, that what is represented is immediately
dependent on the object or objects which at the instant previous were present to its
2 TO THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 239
apprehension or experience. What is recalled at any moment, though recalled by the
soul's proper activity, is always recalled by means of the cognitions and feelings which
the soul possessed the moment previous.
Association of § 238- The general fact or truth that ideas are represented
Set s" various ^y means of ideas now present, is usually designated under
term?- the general title or phrase of - the association of ideas.'' A
more careful consideration of the principle or law under which the represen-
tation of the past by the present is conceived to be possible and known as
actual, leads to the investigation of what are called the laws of associa-
tion.
The term suggestion has, by some writers, been preferred to associa-
tion. They prefer to say, one idea suggests another idea, rather than,
one idea is associated with another. This preference is partly a matter
of .taste in words, and in part is grounded on the philosophical theory
which one of these terms is supposed to designate better than the other.
Some object to the phrase, The suggestion or association of ideas, because ideas are not
the only objects or elements that are concerned ; real or existing objects or phenomena being
as truly capable of exciting representations as the ideas or remembrances of things. Indeed,
objects or acts perceived are usually more efficient than objects remembered or imagined, to
bring up associated images or thoughts. It will be seen, on a nearer view, that this criticism
is more specious than well-grounded. Besides, the phrase is too well established in general
use to be easily set aside, even though the reasons for so doing were vastly stronger than they
are found to be in fact.
, 8 239. To seek to determine what are the conditions and
Importance and ° . .
interest of the laws of representation, is to propose an inquiry to which we
are impelled by the intrinsic interest and even mystery with
which the power itself and its actings are invested to all thoughtful
minds. To answer this inquiry by certain definite principles — so far as
such principles can be fixed — is an essential prerequisite to an enlightened
theory of each of the special forms of this power ; as the memory, the
fancy, and the imagination, in all their varieties. All these so-called pow-
ers of the soul are, as has been explained, but special forms of the general
power mentally to represent the actual past. They must all depend upon
common conditions, and obey common laws. A just and well-founded
theory of the association of ideas is a necessary prerequisite to a satisfac-
tory theory of all these several powers. Representations are also always
employed in the actings of the other leading powers, viz., sense-perception
and thought ; and for this reason the consideration of the laws which regu-
late their presence or absence is essential to a complete elucidation of the
powers with which, at first, they seem to have little concern.
Hamilton observes {Met, Lee. xxxi.), that " the scholastic psychologists seem to have
fegarded the succession in the train of thought, or, as they called it, the excitation of the
tpecieSj with peculiar wonder, as one of the most inscrutable mysteries of Nature." " The
younger Scaliger says : ' My father declared that of the causes of three things in particular
§240. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OP KEPEESENTATTON. . Ill
be was -wholly ignorant — of the interval of fevers, of the ebb and flow of the sea, and of
reminiscence.' " " The excitation of species is declared by Poncius ' to be one of the most
difficult secrets of Nature ' (ex difficilioribus natures arcanis) ; and Oviedo, a Jesuit school-
man, says, c Therein lies the very greatest mystery of all philosophy ' (maximum totius philo-
sophice sacramentum)." Viewed in one aspect, this impression of mystery and the wonder
fvbich it excites are not at all surprising. Thoughts and images come and go with the ap-
parent caprice and lawlessness of wizards and fairies — now obtruding themselves where they
are not wanted, and then hiding themselves most provokingly, notwithstanding the most ear-
nest desires and the loudest calls for their return.
On the other hand, when the movements of representation are explained,
Association utsed , . , . . , . , . . , , . , , , ,
to explain all this explanation is taken to explain almost every thing beside ; so largely do
law? faCtS and tlie conunS and g°ing °f represented objects enter into the other phenomena
of the soul. A very considerable number of psychologists, as we have
already remarked, have accordingly resolved all the psychical powers into the operation of the
laws of association — viz., reasoning, induction, the belief in causality and adaptation, and even
in time and space. Some have even resolved the conception of the soul itself, and of its sev-
eral faculties, into the accumulation of associated and blended impressions of individual
objects. The association of ideas has played a most conspicuous role in the modern theories
of the soul and its operations, and its influence upon such theories was perhaps never so great
as at present. Next to false or inadequate theories of sense-perception, have incorrect theo-
ries of the association of ideas exercised the most mischievous influence upon the scientific
views of the soul, and indirectly on philosophical, ethical, and theological truth (cf. § 43). It
becomes, therefore, a matter of the most serious consequence to attain correct conceptions of
the laws of the representative power.
8 240. To do this with success, it is necessary, as in similar
Method of dis- ° '- _ v'
cussion and in- cases, to state at some length the detective or erroneous
theories which have been accepted to explain these opera-
tions and laws. This will enable us to pronounce a critical judgment upon
their error, as well as to recognize the truth which they include, and
will prepare us to develop a true and satisfactory theory.
It will be observed, that the laws of association pertain to what Hamil-
ton calls the reproductive, as distinguished from the representative power ;
in other words, to those operations of the soul which prepare objects for
the soul's apprehension, as distinguished from the soul's act in cognizing
them when prepared and presented (§ 47). In representation in all its
forms, this function must necessarily be very prominent and important.
In representation, the soul prepares and furnishes its own objects of cogni-
tion. The capacity to do this, and the laws under which the operation is
performed, are analogous to the psycho-physiological capacities and acts
of the soul by which sense-objects are prepared for the soul's sense-per-
ceptions.
The laws of association have been divided into two leading classes, the primary and
aecondary, which again may be distinguished as general and special. They are distinguished
thus : the primary or general are those which act or tend to act at all times and in all persons,
while the secondary and special are those which determine the associations of the same or
different individuals at different times.
The theories which we shall notice apply to both of these classes, though more eminently
to the primary. We begin with
272 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §241.
I. The primary laws of association.
Association not § 241# ^e 00serve> i1') that the theory is untenable which
explained ^by asserts that the representative power has a special bodily
tion. organ or instrument, and that its phenomena are explicable
by the mechanical or physiological laws which are appropriate to such an
organ.
It has been held by not a few writers, among whom Bonnet was conspicuous, that the
brain, or nervous system, is such an organ. As what we know in sense-perception was thought
to be or to depend upon certain vibrations, undulations, or oscillations of the brain and' nerves,
so it was held that the objects thus apprehended for the first time can be re-presented to the
imagination or the memory, whenever these same oscillations or vibrations are resumed or
repeated. A tendency to this recurrence or resumption is induced by their having been pre-
viously presumed in perception. Others maintained that every act of perception effects a per-
manent condition or disposition of certain of these fibres, which is resumed again in repre-
sentation. Some held that, in addition to the oscillating fibres of the brain, there is also
present a very delicate and sensitive fluid, which is another agency intermediate between the
brain and the soul. Those who held that the soul is immaterial, insisted that the brain and
nervous system are simply its organ in representation, on the action of which the mind is as
completely dependent for its images and remembrances in representation, as for its objects in
perception it depends on the organs of sense. Still greater plausibility was sought for this
theory by the attempt made by some to show that the soul itself has a special seat or organ in
the brain, by the sympathy of which with the vibrations of the remaining portions all the phe-
nomena were resolved.
We have already explained sufficiently how earnestly the cerebralists and associationalists
of recent times reassert the same views, and seek to enforce them by the aid of the results of
modern physiology.
Lafacultepar laquelle les representations s'operent, est V imagination. Mais les idees sont attachees aux
mouvements des fibres sensibles. Pour qu'une idee se presente de nouveau d Vdrne ilfaut done, que les fibres
appropriees d cette idee soient mues de nouveau. La disposition du cerveau d repeter ces mouvements constitue
done Vimagination. Bonnet, Essai de Psych., § 213. Cf. Essai Andlylique sur les Facultes de VAme. Cf
D. Hartley, Observations on Man: his Frame, his Duty, and Ids Expectations. 3 vols. London, 1791;
A. Tucker, The Light of Nature Pursued. 4 vols. Cambridge, U. S., 1831 ; J. Priestly, Disquisitions relating
to Matter and Spirit. London, 1771 ; A. Bain, The Senses and the Intellect. London, 1855.
The logical consequences of this theory would be, that the soul, for the presence of repre-
sented objects, is entirely dependent on the service and agency rendered by this material
organ, and that if it has any activity or freedom, this can be used only in detaining the objects
that are presented, by retaining the organ or its parts in those positions of vibration which would
be necessary to keep the objects before its view. Many of the adherents of these views do not
assert for the soul any such activity, but resolve all its phenomena into the presence of those
objects and states which the varying condition of this organ, in accordance with mechanical
laws, might seem to require.
In view of the theory that the senses and the imagination were thus dependent upon the sensorium,
i. c, the brain and nervous system, these powers were formerly ascribed to the lower or inferior energy,
which was called the animal soul, or the soul in contrast with the spirit or higher and rational soul, to
which the higher and more spiritual functions were allotted.
In modern times, since the various sensible qualities have been resolved into modes of motion, and
many physiologists and some psychologists have resolved the capacities of the sensorium for different sen-
sations into a simple susceptibility for slower or more rapid vibrations, there has been a renewed disposi-
tion to make the representative power to depend on revived vibrations of the nervous energy. Such theories,
have, however, been usually carried out to the bald materialism with which they have a strong affinity.
Dr. J. P. Jessen (Versuck e. wissencha/tl. Bcgrundung d. Psychologic Berlin, 1855), accepting the
physiological theory which finds in the cerebellum the organ of the phenomena of sense and motion, haa
§242. THE CONDITIONS Ai<D LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 273
made an elaborate attempt to show that the cerebellum must be the organ of the imagination also, by
means of the impressions made upon it through the sense-perceptions ; while the cerebrum, as the organ
of the reason, uses tbe cerebellum, so to speak, as the sensory of the imagination.
Defect of all § 2^2. -^ these theories fail to be supported, by reason of a
physiological common defect. The structure of the brain and nervous
and corporeal
theories. system in no way indicates that they are capable of the
vibrations or oscillations which are postulated of them. This structure is
not entirely fibrous. What seem to be fibres, are not capable of the ten-
sion and relaxation which more rapid and forcible vibrations, or those
which are slower and feebler, would require. They are not sufficiently
numerous to answer to the myriads of millions of states of thought and
feeling which are represented in memory and the fancy. No particular
change of the kind alleged has ever been known to occur in connection
with a represented object. We call the eye and the ear organs of sight
and heariDg, because, with the observed conditions and the varying states
of these organs, sensations are present or absent, or vary both in quality
and in force ; but never has an undulation of the animal spirits been
observed, or even conjectured, to which might be referred the remem-
bered face of an absent friend, or the vivid picture of a once-visited scene.
No presumed vibration of any set of fibres or nerves has ever been ob-
served to be connected with any picture or remembrance whatever. No
nerve-cell has been known to be formed in connection with a picture fixed
in the memory, or a purpose decisively taken. Again, the theory, if com-
plete and adequate in every other particular, would fail entirely to account
for the creative energy of the imagination. Representations of this sort
are very abundant, and often very vivid and forcible ; but how some of
these fantastic and gorgeous scenes could be provided for by any dispo-
sition of fibres or vibrations of the nerves, it is impossible to see. The
theory was evidently evoked as a necessary consequence and complement
of a similar theory devised to account for the agency of the brain and
nerves in the sense-perceptions. If that theory is untenable, this must,
a fortiori, be rejected. It must be conceded however that
Facts relating to Certain conditions of the body are connected with a far more
the connection . . . _ , ,.
of the body with mtense activity oi the representative power than accompa-
and memory. lon nies others. In other bodily states this activity is excessive4,
irregular, and even uncontrollable. Experience and observation both tes-
tify that this power, in all its forms, whether of memory, phantasy, or
imagination, both in sleep and wakefulness, is modified very greatly by
the organization and temporary condition of the body.
When tbe body is in health and in a normal condition, memory both acquires and gives up
its treasures with the ease and exactness of instinct ; and imagination combines and creates,
as if by the spell of an enchanter, so skilfully as to be herself surprised at her own work.
Under the excitement of delirium, the elevation of enthusiasm, or the brief madness of pas-
sion, the power to recall and create seems almost to be used by another self ; now mocking the
18
274 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 244.
vain efforts of the man to control the rush of his too affluent fancy, and now suggesting for
his service or his delight unexpected stores of facts and fancies. It is in vain, at times, that
the soul essays to retard or to still the throng of unwelcome images that break in upon it like
a succession of stormy waves. In sleeplessness induced by an elation of the nervous system,
the rational soul seems to be separated from the imagination, and to become the passive specta-
tor of the strangest caprices. We are wearied to exhaustion by the force and persistence
with which these fancies at once bewilder and overmaster us. In delirium, the fancy seems to
have completely overmastered the rational soul, paralyzed its functions, or frightened it from
asserting its rightful supremacy.
flow these facts § 243, These phenomena can be accounted for by two con-
fo\nabndaCcxU£in- situations : First, there is the general truth, that the soul is
ed- dependent for the measure of force which it has at command,
on the force and normal activity of the powers which maintain the cor-
poreal life. When the bodily force is weakened, the force of the mind is
often weakened in all its functions — of sense, representation, and thought.
This general fact may itself be inexplicable, but, being assumed to be
true, it may explain some ojf the cases in which the memory and imagina-
tion are weakened by disease, or are nearly suspended in faintness and
some of the forms of sleep.
Any disturbance Second, a disturbance of the functions and activities of the
of the bodily . .
state introduces body is attended with an unequal action of the powers of
disturbing sea- _ . _ _ _ _
sations. the soul, This can m part be accounted lor by the obtrusive
influence of the sensations and other mental experiences which are the
consequence of this unequal bodily action. The soul seems to have at its
command, in any given condition, only a certain quantum of attention, or
psychical energy, which may be evenly distributed among the various
activities of which it is capable — as sense, consciousness, representation,
and thought ; or, if concentrated into one, it is thereby withdrawn from
and incapable of the rest. It has already been noticed, that we cannot
exert the utmost energy in hearing and seeing at the same instant ; still
less can we perceive and imagine or reason, at the same instant and with
the highest energy and effect. At one time the body, in, health and in its
normal state, is, as we say, the ready servant of the soul ; in other words,
all the sensations are so agreeable or so gentle as to be unnoticed, and the
Whole attention can be given to other than animal or sensuous experiences.
In other conditions, as in extreme hunger or active pain, the sensations are
so absorbing as to exclude all energetic spiritual activities, whether of
thought or feeling. In still other conditions, the generally dormant vital
and muscular sensations may be so positively obtrusive as to withdraw or
depress the soul's capacity to fix the attention upon any other objects with
steadiness and effect.
The vital sen- § 244. And yet these muscular or vital sense-perceptions,
vajrucf' mayUbe though obtrusive and unpleasant as sensations, may be so
links in a chain ' . .. rt ,, ^. "U* xi at.
of associations, vague and indefinite, as perceptions, as to serve chiefly as the
§245.
THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPKESENTATION.
275
suggestors — under the laws of mental association — of other images. We
ought never to forget that, in all conditions of onr existence, so long as
we exist as soul and body, these vague sensations of which the body in
all its parts is the occasion, form the constant background on which are
projected the more definite and distinctly remembered of our experiences.
To parts of this background, or to the whole blended as a single percep-
tion, the more positive experiences may be attached under the laws ol
mental association. In every moment of psychical act or suffering,
whether painful or pleasant, whether presentation, representation, or
thought, this complex of undefined sensations must be present as a con-
stant accompaniment, and of course as a more or less important element.
When these sensations become more than usually active, through an ex-
cited or a diseased condition of the body, they can suggest every image
with which they have been connected in the past ; and by themselves and
through the objects which they suggest, preoccupy the whole force of the
soul's activity. The condition of the body may thus affect the whole
activity of the soul, by simply introducing unusual psychical experiences,
which operate according to purely psychical laws, both in absorbing the
attention from the rational functions, and in obtruding a throng of asso-
ciated images.
These considerations will, it is thought, explain many cases of the sin
gular and almost capricious dependence of the memory upon the varying
conditions of the body.
The laws of as- § 245. (2.) The laws according to which ideas are repre-
be referred to sented to the mind cannot be resolved into any attractive
power ain ^dels force — as is conceived by many — in the ideas themselves, by
which they suggest or revive one another. This theory dif-
fers from the one just discussed, in making the ideas, as psychical agents,
to exert a force and attractive tendency similar to that which was ascribed
to the brain or its physiological functions.
Many of the explanations given of the phenomena of association, and
much of the language in which they are expressed, are fitted to leave the
impression that ideas attract one another somewhat as two drops of water
tend to run together, or two globules of quicksilver rush into one ; or as
if, when the larger drop or globule is divided in whole or in part, the
second portion draws the other after itself. Whether or not the authors
of these explanations and of this language would admit such a construc-
tion of them, it is certain that the doctrine of association and its laws has
been presented in such a form as to justify this construction, and to make
it necessary to guard against it.
Thus Hobbes -writes : "All fancies [phantasms] are notions within us, relics of those made in the
sense ; and those notions that immediately succeeded one another in the sense continue also together after
sense ; in so much as the former, coming again to take place, and be predominant, the latter followeth, by
coherence of the matter moved, in such manner as water upon a plane table is drawn which way any ona
part of it is guided by the finger." {Lev. p. i. ch. iii ; cf. Hum. Nat, ch. iii. § 2 ; and ELem. Phil., ch. xxv.
21 6 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 246.
% 8. Of the ancient philosophers, Carnead.es compared the suggestion of thoughts " to a chain, in which
one link is dependent on another." Themistius, as translated hy Hamilton, says : " For as in a chain, if
one link he moved, the link therewith connected will of necessity be moved, and through that the nex*
again, and so forth, this likewise is the case in those impressions of which the soul is the subject." Johan
nes Major, according to Hamilton, says : " Una notitia irahit alteram, ut seta sutoris filum." Locke says
'* Some of our ideas have a natural correspondence and connection one with another : Ideas that in
themselves are not at all of kin, come to be so united in some men's minds that 'tis very hard to separate
them ; they always keep in company, and the one no sooner at any time comes into the understanding,
but its associate appears with it, and. if they are more than two which are thus united, the whole gang
always inseparable, show themselves together." (.Essay, B. ii. c. xxxiii. §5). Hume says: "These are,
therefore, the principles of union or cohesion among our simple ideas, and in the imagination supply tho
place of that inseparable connection by which they are united, in our memory. Here is a kind of attraction,
which in the mental world will be found to have as extraordinary effects as in the natural, and. to show
itself in as many and as various forms. Its effects are everywhere conspicuous ; but as to its causes, they
are mostly unknown, and must be resolved into original qualities of human nature, which I pretend not to
explain." Hum. Nat., B. i. p. i. Sec. iv.) James Mill (Analysis of the Human Mind, chap, iii.), says :
"When two or more ideas have been often repeated together, and the association has become very strong,
they sometimes spring up in such close combination as not to be distinguishable. Some cases of sensation
are analogous. For example : when a wheel, on the seven parts of which the seven prismatic colors are
respectively painted, is made to revolve rapidly, it appears not of seven colors, but of one uniform color-
white. By the rapidity of the succession the several sensations cease to be distinguishable ; they run, as it
were, together, and a new sensation, compounded, of all the seven, but apparently a single one, is the result.
Ideas, also, which have been so often conjoined, that whenever one exists in the mind the others immedi-
ately exist along with it, seem to run into one another— to coalesce, as it were, and out of many to form
one idea ; which idea, however, in reality complex, appears to be no less simple than any of those of which
it is compounded," etc., etc. The whole passage is accepted by J. Stuart Mill, in his Exam, of Sir William-
Hamilton's Philosophy, ch. xiv., with marvellous naivete, as though it were an almost original exposition of
the subject. The doctrine of " inseparable associations," thus enounced, is with him not only an axiom*,
but the axiom, which is the c open sesame"1 of all metaphysical and psychological problems.
The most consistent and thorough-going advocate of this theory of the attractive forc<;
Herbarfs Theo- of ideas, as ideas, either in ancient or modern times, is Herbart (cf. § 43). All the
ry of the attrac- mental phenomena, and even the several powers of the mind, he accounts for by the
tion ol Jaeas. actions and reactions of the mind's ideas. Ideas are strengthened when they recur
often enough to gather the force which blends them into one or arranges them in a
permanent series. After being experienced, they remain in a condition of constant tension, ready on the
slightest occasion to rush back into the possession or rather the presence of the soul ; and again pressing
hard to return as soon as a kindred object of perception or representation shall attract them back. The
relations of the ideas to one another, both static and dynamic, are expressed by Herbart in mathematical
formulae, for the purpose of bringing psychology into scientific relations with physics, which, in his view,
tends to confirm the theory, that the attractive and repellent force exists between ideas as such, and not
in the action of the soul of which they are simply states or energies.
This theory is open to similar critical objections with the one which follows, with which it is intimately
allied. "We observe next, that
S 246. (3.) The conditions and laws of representation cannot
Nor into the ° „ 1 , , . , „
force of relations be referred solely, or even primarily, to the force of certain
classes of relations which exist between ideas. This theory
is, in its principle, not superior to the literal or figurative ascription of
attractive force to the ideas themselves.
Aristotle enumerates three of these relations which consti-
Thcse relations ..,•>...
variously class- tute the laws oi representation, viz. : Contiguity in time and
space, resemblance, and contrariety (De Mem. et Hem., c. ii.
§ viii.). Hume asserts the three laws of association to be resemblance,
contiguity in time and place, and cause and effect. Others increase this
number to seven, viz. : Coexistence or consecution in time y contiguity in
space ; dependence as cause and effect, means and end, ichole and part ; re-
semblance or contrast ; produced by the same power or conversant about the
same object ; signified and signifying ; designated by the same sound*
§246. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 277
Others contract them to two : Simultaneity and affinity. St. Augustine;
and very many others, have reduced them to the single law of redintegra
tion, or the formula that ' a part of a mental state tends to bring back and
restore all the parts which originally composed it.'
All these laws are founded in truth. All the formulas which enounce
them describe facts of consciousness. Whether they fully exhaust the
subject, and bring us to the ultimate principle or law of the mind's activ
ity, must be reserved for further inquiry.
Examples can easily be adduced of the representation ol
*iaceatioils °f ^eas un^er a^ °f these relations. We begin with those of
place. When I recall a single building upon a familiar
street, I think at once of the building adjoining, and so on, of each that
is next. When a portion or feature of a landscape is recalled, as a part
of the falls of Niagara, or a single peak of the White Mountains, the
entire scene comes back to the view of the mind, either as a a whole or in
its several parts.
Contiguity of time is illustrated by the following : When a
Relations of single event is thought of, which occurred upon some day
of my life made memorable by joy or sorrow, that event sug-
gests the others which occurred in connection with itself — either before or
after — till the whole history of the day has passed in review before the eye
of the mind. Words call up the sentences in which they have been heard
or read ; phrases bring back sentences ; sentences, a part or the whole of
a discourse. A note of music suggests the snatch of melody in which it
has been heard ; this suggests the air, till the whole tuae is repeated to
the ear of the mind.
Objects that were successive in time, may also have been
Both in ccmjune- contiguous in place; as when the parts of an imposing pro-
cession were seen in succession, passing beneath the same
arch, or entering the same edifice. In such a case the relations of time
and place connect these objects, and by means of them both these objects
may be recalled in order.
Inasmuch as all objects adjacent in space must, if perceived with atten-
tion, be originally perceived by acts successive to one another in time, it
may and generally will happen that when they are recalled as contiguous,
they may also be recalled as successively perceived, and thus both the
relations of time and place may act conjointly. Thus, if I examine the
interior of a large public hall or church, I may walk around it on my feet,
drawing near to every part which I inspect ; or, standing in one place, I
may survey every object by successive applications of the eye. But these
objects are also contiguous in place, and form together a whole of space.
As such, they may be grasped by the eye at a single view — so much of
the interior as the eye can survey — the whole and the parts together.
When the whole " rises like an exhalation " before the recreating eye of
278 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 246
the fancy, it may be by the aid of one or both of these relations. Indeed,
it might be urged that all objects adjacent in space, whether viewed by a
single or by successive acts of attention, must be also connected under the
relations of coexistence or of succession in time, and the relation of time
must be always present and controlling.
• The relations of similarity and of contrast serve to recall
.Relations of f
similarity and objects. If I see a house like the one in which I lived when
contrast. _ . .
a child — it is oi no consequence when or where — it causes
me to think of my early home. If I see a face that resembles the face of
a dear but absent friend, it brings that friend to mind. If a man sees a
horse like one which he formerly owned, or a lady sees a dress which in
material or color is like one which she has worn, the horse or dress are
instantly recalled. The likeness may be of the whole to the whole, or of
a part to a part ; as of a house to a house, a mountain to a mountain, a
tree to a tree, a face to a face, in general outline or expression ; or again,
as of a door or roof (the part of a house) to a door or roof; or of a sin-
gle feature in the face to another feature.
So, objects that are unlike, especially such as are strikingly contrasted,
recall one another. Cold makes us think of heat, light reminds us of
darkness, joy of sorrow and sorrow of joy, sweet of bitter and bitter of
sweet.
The relation of cause and effect is constantly recognized in
"^e-aandnffectf our exPerience« The cause may recall the effect, or the effect
the cause. Fire makes me think of heat, and ice of cold.
The wound under which I suffer, recalls the blow which caused it. The
gift which I enjoy, brings to mind the kindness of the giver. The treach-
ery of Arnold suggests the death of Major Andre. The heroic devotion
of Florence Nightingale brings to view the relief and comfort of sick and
wounded soldiers ; then is suggested their gratitude, and then the admira-
tion which her example has commanded, and the imitation to which it has
prompted.
Under cause and effect, and dependent upon it, is the rela-
end^etc13 and ^on °^ means an<^ ends. Any instrument or contrivance sug-
gests the use for which it was devised. Thus, a fire-engine
makes us think of a conflagration ; a locomotive, of the drawing of a
railway train ; a thumbscrew, or a case of surgical instruments, of torture
or amputation. The thought of an end suggests the possible or necessary
means. If a weight is to be raised, or a building is to be moved, we
think of a lever, or a combination of screws and rollers. If we are in
difficulty or danger, the mind is occupied exclusively with all the possible
methods of extrication or deliverance. When our energies are quickened
by fear, necessity, or hope, there rush to our thoughts every conceivable
expedient of which we have ever heard or read.
These three or four relations are the laws of associations which are
§ 247. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 27U
more commonly recognized. To these, three other laws have been added*
which have been already named. Operations or objects of the same powe*
or faculty, suggest one another, and the faculty concerned. The sign sug
g*ests the thing signified, and the thing signified the sign. Objects acci
dentally denoted by the same sound are associated. A little attention will
convince any one that these may find their place either under the law of
cause and effect, or under the very comprehensive relation of contiguity
of space and time.
The attempt to increase the number of the relations that are conceived to
Are m not other operate as laws of association and conditions of representation, most natu-
posable ! SUP" ra^y suggests the inquiry, whether there is any special charm in the three or
four relations of resemblance, contrast, contiguity of space and time, and
causation, which invests these alone with efficacy in the recovery of ideas. We ask at once,
Why may not any other relations serve as well as these ? Why, of the two objects that are
connected by any relations whatever, may not each suggest its correlate ? We find, in point
of fact, that this is so — that objects connected by many special relations, as of premise and
conclusion, evidence and inference, do recall each other. We discover, moreover, that the
objects related as mutually causes and effects must be contemplated as such, in order that they
may suggest one another. In other words, they must have been connected in the mind as
causes and effects, that it may be possible for one to recall the other. If they have not been thus
known, or cannot readily be thus known, the one is impotent to recall the other. For exam-
ple, oxygen suggests the rusting of iron, or the increase of combustion, or the purification of
the blood, to the mind that has known that the one is a cause and the other is an effect ; but
to one ignorant of these relations of oxygen, it would have no such suggesting power.
This fact leads us at once to the inquiry whether the power of one related
Cannot these re- r
lations be re- object to recall another object is not derived entirely from the circumstance
lawl ° a Smg 6 tna^ tne ^w0 flave been connected by the mind's previous activity ? In other
words, it suggests the theory that the conditions and laws of representation do
not depend upon the attractive force of the objects or ideas themselves, nor upon the power
of relations as relations in a smaller or greater number, but upon the subjective energy of the
mind in uniting them, or upon the single circumstance that the mind has bound them together
by some previous activity of its own.
§ 247. (4). Philosophers have united all these relations under
StgratLm. red" wnat tney nave caHe(l the law of redintegration, which is
thus announced : Objects that have been previously united
as parts of a single mental state, tend to recall or suggest one another.
Redintegration, as here used, is equivalent to the complete restoration of
the whole, on condition of the presence of one or more of its parts. This
law was announced by St. Augustine, by Wolf, by Malebranche, by J. G.
E. Maas, and is accepted with some qualification by Sir William Hamilton.
It is an interesting and much-vexed question, whether this law will meet and
Will this explain explain all the special cases of representation. If we concede that the threo
far^se^^011" or *°ur laws or relations enumerated by Hume and others cover and compre-
hend every supposable instance of recall, and attempt to resolve them all into
the law of redintegration, we shall find the following results :
280 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §247.
sa.) Objects contiguous in time present no difficulty. Indeed, the law of
The relations of redintegration might be viewed as only another expression for the law that
caus a/tio n^^ objects conjoined in time tend to restore or suggest one another, inasmuch as
the parts and the whole respectively must have been united as contiguous in
time.
(6.) Objects adjacent in space, as has already been observed, usually come under the rela-
tion and law of contiguity in time, and are therefore easily accommodated to the law of redin-
tegration.
It is to be observed, that a whole and parts in time directly, and in time indirectly
through space, are given in the same instantaneous act, or by a succession immediately conse-
quent. That successive objects in time are capable of being bound up as wholes, is obvious
from experience. When we so learn as to recall the successive words which make a sentence,
we either maintain an apprehension of the constitutive relation which they all have to the
whole, while we are hearing or reading each part, or we bind them into a whole by a single
act of review or repetition. In the same way, when, by successive acts in time, we master all
the parts of some whole in space, as of a building, a landscape, or a complex mathematical
figure, we give unity to the whole.
(c.) The most of the cases in which objects are recalled under the relation of cause and
effect, will readily be solved by the law of redintegration. As has already been intimated,
objects must previously have been connected as cause and effect, in order to be recalled by the
force of this relation. Indeed, objects are known as causes by the effects which they produce.
Effects are known as such by being referred to other objects or agents as their causes. In
many instances, even, it is only through this relation that they are connected at all. Bat in
order to be connected as cause and effect, so as to be recalled the one by the other, they must
first have been united under this relation in a previous mental act ; and if so, they come at
once under the law of redintegration.
What is true of causes and effects, is still more obvious of means and ends. A means
can only be known as such by its relation to the end which it is adapted to promote or bring
to pass. That is, it must be thought of in connection with the end, as the camels which buoy
up a ship, or the diving-bell which enables a diver to breathe and labor under water. The
same is true of premises and conclusions, data and inferences, or the so-called logical relations,
all of which are referable to the general relation of cause and effect.
(d.) The relations of similarity and contrast present some difficulty. When
The relation of I see a face never seen before, at once the thought flashes upon me, ' That
sio^Sfficnltyf " ^ace *s ^e the face of a friend long absent or dead ; ' or when I see a horse
which strikingly resembles in color, form, or action, another horse which I
formerly owned, and the image of that horse is called to mind, the objects that recall, and
those which are recalled, were never conjoined in fact. In many cases of similarity, the pre-
vious conjunction of the resembling objects is possible, and the law of redintegration may be
readily applied, but in instances such as have been adduced, we seem foiled in the effort to
apply it. In view of these facts, the law of similarity seems at first to be an original and
independent law, and to take its place as such by the side of the law of redintegration.
Others, as Maas ( Versuch uber die Einbildungslcraft), have sought to bring it
How the diffl- un(^er tne same by the following solution : What we see in the resembling
culty is resolved, face, or the resembling horse, is some special and separable feature or
peculiarity, one or more. Let this be called a, and let the remaining features
or peculiarities be called b. Let all the observed features or characteristics of the same, both the
resembling and the non-resembling, be called A. Let the face or the horse never seen beforo
be designated by B. When B is seen, the part a is seen as a separable constituent, for by the
supposition it attracts special attention. The first act is to perceive B ; the next act, to notice
a, the resembling feature ; but a has before been conjoined with 6, giving the total A. Aa
soon as the past a is apprehended, it brings back its associate b, and A is therefore recalled.
§249. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF EEPEESENTATION. 281
When, for example, I look at a portrait of Sir Philip Sidney, I am reminded of its likeness tc
the portrait of Queen Elizabeth, because of the ruff which is about the neck of each, which it
this case is the only common feature, and attracts at once the attention. The ruff brings back
every thing besides in her Majesty's portrait — 'the head-dress, the features, the sceptre, the
robes, etc., etc., till the whole is restored. So far as the process of association is concerned,
it is urged, it makes no difference whether the separable features are or are not actually divisible
in space ; they must be separated and conjoined in thought, in order to be the medium by
which the attendant parts are brought to the mind. If this solution is accepted, the law of
redintegration is established as the one comprehensive and sufficient law of representation.
In other words, the law of representation would be, ' objects which have been previously
united as a part of a single mental state, tend to recall or suggest one another.'
The arts and § ^^' Shall this be accepted as the law ? Before this ques-
tSe°lesamee but ^on *s answere^ one point needs to be noticed : The part
similar. 0f a mental state which is said to recall or tend to recall the
whole, is not literally the same which has previously beeu an object to the
mind. Every time the mind apprehends either a part or the whole, it has
a new percept or image, whether partial or total. If, having seen two
resembling horses together, I afterward see one, I am impelled at once to
think of the other ; or if the sight of a third resembling horse makes me
think of one or both, there is to the mind in every instance a new object
presented and pictured. The percept of the same horse taken in succes-
sive moments, or at long intervals, is mentally conceived not as the same,
but as a similar mental entity or object. All its force to attract, or suggest,
or recall another object, comes not from the sameness of the part or the
whole objectively viewed, but from the similarity of the two or more
mental percepts or mental images regarded subjectively, or as the products
of the mind's similar activities. Whatever this tendency, or readiness, or
force may be, it is derived entirely from the mind's own activity, and not
at all from the sameness of the objects as parts or wholes. The mind
thinks, or tends to think, of a, when it perceives or thinks of b, because it
has previously acted in a similar activity, in whole or in part. When a
occurs to it, whether in perception or thought, a certain form of partial
subjective activity begins, which involves, by reason of the fact that the
like activity has been previously experienced, a greater facility of repetition.
One act of knowledge, as has been previously explained, differs from
another act or state of knowledge by the mental object which it produces.
One act of knowledge is similar to another, in whole or in part, as it forms
in apprehension a similar mental object by the application of attentive
effort. One act of knowledge is similar to another, according as the
objects thus produced are similar in whole or in part. Even when the
object, as in two acts of perception, is one and the same, the mental acts
and products are only similar, and therefore are two.
The explanation § 249. The law of redintegration, as ordinarily phrased or
jecte^S^in3 the enounced, is liable to the qualification which was noticed in
mind's activity. g u^ yiz . %^t nQ attractiye force can be affirmed 0r COn
282 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §249.
ceived to pertain to ideas as such. Objects or ideas have of themselves no
greater force or tendency to restore those which with themselves made up
a mental state, than they have to attract one another. The force in the
iinal analysis must come from and reside in the mind whose products they
are.
It will be observed, on reflection, that the law of similarity, so far from
being brought under the law of redintegration by this analysis, brings this;
very law in subjection to itself, because, when we correct the reading of
this law, we find that the same is only another phrase for the similar.
While, then, no objection can be made to the law of redinte-
The real expla- . •: . '
nation. How oration as a popular expression of the comprehensive con-
enounced. ^. . . . , . x .
dition or principle ot representation, it must be rejected as
defective, because it overlooks the real principle. This is to be found in
the comprehensive general fact or law, that the mind tends to act again
more readily i?i a manner or form which is similar to any in which it has
acted before, in any defined exertion of its energy.
As the result of our analysis, we accept this as the principle which
comprehends the so-called laws of association. We have seen that these
laws are not physiological, but psychical; that the attractive force by
which one idea is said to be able to recall another, does not lie in the ideas
as such, viewed as separate from the mind's energy in producing or be-
holding them : nor does it lie in the relations as such under which the
objects were connected in the mind's previous act of uniting them, but in
the ultimate truth that, in whatever way the mind may act, it thereby is
enabled to act in a similar manner a second time. Its original act is
always complex, including objects separated and united, as parts and as a
whole, by definable relations. If the mind cognizes a part of any of these
wholes, it begins to act in a way similar to that in which it has acted
before. The tendency to finish the whole of the act thus begun explains
the principle that underlies the laws of association.
This comprehensive law enables us to explain not only the recurrence of two
ex^fains^^the 0DJects tnat have previously been connected in the same instant of time, but
force of succes- the return of those also which have followed one another in a consecutive
order ; as the words that form a sentence suggest each other, or the names
that have been learned in a series, or the letters of the alphabet, etc., etc. In these cases each
object that precedes and follows must have been united by the energy of a single act, else they
could not have been observed in relation. It is also true, in many such cases, that the con-
spiring relation of each part toward the whole of which it is a member, has been often con-
sidered by a single activity of the mind, after the parts have been followed in their order by
successive pairs in the way just explained.
The reference of the laws of the representative power to the subjective force
power^of feeling or energy of the mind, explains the influence of states of feeling, as well as
over the associa- actg of tQe intellect, upon the representative activities. The state of feeling
in which I perceive or cognize an object — e. ff., a glorious sunset or an inter-
esting story — is often as distinct to my apprehension as the object itself. It should follow that
a similar feeling excited a second time ought as truly to tend to recall a similar object, as a
§251. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 28?
similar object the feeling. That the feelings are potent instruments of memory, is confirmed
by the experience of every one. It often happens that a feeling of disgust once occasioned by
some object, can never be experienced, again without recalling the object itself. This is often
observed in the bodily sensations as those of sea-sickness or headache. It is scarcely lesa
conspicuous in the experience of purely psychical emotions when these are perfectly defined
or are traceable to some determinate cause like homesickness or sudden fright. In such cases
the experience of a feeling which is at all similar to the feeling in question, however dissimilai
may be the occasion or exciting cause, will bring back the intellectual cognition with which it
was originally connected. We have already explained (§ 229) that in such cases the feeling
operates through the agency of the intellect.
§ 250. This principle also serves to explain the predominance of certain
predonSnance^f associations over the intellect and character of different persons. If the ten-
special associa- dency to reproduction and recall is an original force, or law, then it is natural
that the energy with which any individual act or state of the soul tends to be
revived, should be proportioned to the relative force of the original act ; in other words, to
the attention which is bestowed upon its objects or parts, whether these are objective or sub-
jective. An excited interest is the condition of concentrated attention ; for, as has already
been observed, aroused feeling awakens the intellect, detains its gaze, and excludes distracting
objects. Hence, the intimate dependence of the memory and imagination of different persons
upon the character and strength of the emotions, the buoyancy and depression of the spirits,
etc. Hence, preeminently, the influence of those commanding purposes and prevailing habit?
which make and mark the individual man, upon the objects which he most frequently recall?
and recombines, under his prevailing and dominant associations. That every man has his
dominant associations is universally observed and confessed. The associations of one aro
those of wit, while those of another are of broader humor. One person abounds in sensuous
illustrations and analogies, another in " wise saws " and grave generalizations. One person
overflows with associations of vice, another with those of virtue and goodness. The reason is,
that the favorite objects of the soul's activity with the one person, are certain classes of
objects with their relations ; and with the other, objects that are very unlike them. But in
every case, the associations by which each recalls objects, follow the energy with which he
cognizes them. One man recalls objects and relations which never occur to another, chiefly
because the one contemplates these objects and relations, and with intense energy, while they
scarcely catch the notice or attention of the other. Open before two men the same landscape,
the same picture, the same architectural design ; tell them the same narrative, introduce them
to the same companion, let them listen to the same poem, lecture, or sermon, and the active
intellect of each will be busy in selecting objects from each, discerning, them in special rela«
tions and fixing them for future recall.
Ex lams the ia- § 25 1. ^ur genera^ ^aw explains also why our associations
bieeoVecfsSensi" w^ °fy'ecis perceived are far more energetic and permanent
than those which are connected with objects remembered or
imagined. That which is seen with the eye or heard with the ear, other
things being equal, holds the attention more closely and longer than that
which is merely remembered, or painted to the fancy. It is constantly
present, firmly fixed, and held closely before the mind for it to return to
as often as it will. It is because of the strength, and the continuance or
reiteration of the impressions which sensible objects occasion, that they
are fitted to fix in the mind bonds of association with far greater intense-
ness and tenacity than objects that are only remembered or fancied. Even
if the object which has been previously perceived is itself remembered, it
284 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 253,
brings back its companion or related thought, with far greater readiness
and force than if it had been originally a thought-object only. But let the
object be perceived a second time, and not merely remembered, and it
acts as an associating force with redoubled energy. First, it presents a
greater variety and number of parts or points of association than it could
possibly do when it was only thought of. Each part or point is also longer
before the mind as an object to which it can return again and again.
Then the mind, by the very act of bodily perception, is often stimulated
to greater activity, and prepared to recall associate objects with propor-
tionate energy.
The associations with home are a fine illustration of this principle. When we
Associations merely think of the home of our childhood, it brings back a throng of recol-
v nome. lections associated with its places and persons ; but when we visit our home,
we cannot repress them. They are connected with every apartment ; they
start up from every corner ; they attend upon all our walks ; there is not a tree, or rock, or
stream, but thrusts into our very faces, and forces upon our society, its throng of associate
memories.
Objects of imagination have this advantage over objects of sense, that they are more free
from unwelcome and unpleasant elements, and are subject more entirely to the creative power.
But objects of sense stimulate the associative tendency to greater energy, and furnish it with
the greatest variety of material.
§ 252. Our principle also explains why certain conditions of
power of bodily the body affect the power to recall, both favorably and un-
favorably. Objects apprehended in conditions of bodily
weakness and pain are often with difficulty recalled. Those which pre
isent themselves in the happier moments of vigor, activity, and moder-
ate excitement, are never forgotten. Disease may both hinder and quick-
en the energies of the soul to acquire, and, of course, to reproduce its
acquisitions ; for, in all these cases, the tendency to reproduce is measured
by the energy of the original activity ; and this varies, as the body helps
or hinders the mind to detain and concentrate its attention (cf. § 244).
„ , . , 8 253. The principle which refers the tendency to be repro-
Explams why a « r r j ^ jt
part and not the duced to the original energy of apprehension and experience
represented. — in other words, of cognition and feeling — enables us to
understand why the mind represents only a portion, and often but a single
element or feature, of an object presented. We perceive a complex mate-
rial object ; we read a written page ; we examine a fine drawing", engrav-
ing, or painting; we hear and understand an elaborate and convincing
argument ; we enjoy a succession of pleasurable sensations or emotions.
But we bring away or possess the power to recall, only a few parts or ele-
ments of each. The explanation has already been anticipated, by the
obvious fact that our apprehension of comparatively simple objects con-
sists of many separate acts of analytic and energetic attention upon the sep-
arate parts. When all these parts are spread before us, in the relations of
§255. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF KEPKESE1STATION. 285
space, we select at our leisure those which solicit our notice. When thej
are no sooner given than they are gone, as in hearing a discourse, etc., wf
seize upon selected portions, and make them our own by an energetic
response which accompanies the hearing, or by an earnest review which
immediately follows. In both cases we often gather, by a unifying act,
all that we have thus noticed. What is material to our principle, is that
we can represent no more parts or features than we energetically present
to our cognition. In both cases, what is called an element, part, or fea-
ture, may be as truly the single vague impression which strikes the senses
or the mind from the combined action of the whole, as the combination
of parts in an orchestra, the mingled sounds that come up to the ear in
the din from a great city, or the general impression to the eye of an object
seen or a few points vaguely noticed by a careless reader or hearer.
Whatever the parts may be, or however they may be conceived, the prin-
ciple remains true that that, and only that, which is appropriated by the
inind by its energetic activity, tends to be revived by a similar act of
representation.
§ 254. Again, it is essential to an act of knowledge that ita
relations are so objects be discerned in some relation. Even states of feeling
are moved and excited by the discerned relations of objects,
as truly as by the apprehension of their unrelated existence. When
the mind is at all developed, that which arrests the attention and excites
the interest is not the sole and single part or element, whether of a sense
or spiritual entity, but the part or element as related to some other part or
whole, present or absent, perceived or thought of. The relation is often
quite as much an occasion of intellectual or emotional activity as the parts
related. Sometimes it attracts the exclusive attention, and the entities
concerned are set aside and overlooked. I may listen to several similar
sounds from different musical instruments, or human voices ; the sounds
compared may scarcely be noticed, only the circumstance that they are
similar. Twenty effects may be produced by a common agent or cause.
That they are is scarcely observed, for the attention is occupied by the
common relation by which they are connected. In hearing a person read,
or in reading ourselves, we often do not notice the words ; the mind takes
up only the relations which constitute their meaning.
Finally, why g 255. These facts explain why it is that the relations of
certain classes w . _ A _ • * .
of relations give obiects, and especially why three or four more prominent rela-
the laws of asso- . i r . , , „ ...
ciation. tions, ngure so conspicuously as laws 01 association m most
of the modern treatises on psychology, and how this circumstance is to be
reconciled with the principle and method of explaining these laws which
we adopt. The mind can rarely be moved to energetic activity except
some important relation, binding two or more objects together, holds the
attention and excites the feelings. The relations named are none other, as
we shall see, than the comprehensive or general categories which connect
286 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §257.
and conditionate all our knowledge (§515). These relations are the laws
of association, inasmuch as they are conditions of original cognition.
Whatever we know energetically under these relations, we know a second
time under and by means of one or more of these categories.
II. The secondary laws of association.
§ 256. The theories which we have considered thus far
SS defined4"7 cnie% relate to what are called the primary laws of associa-
tion. Other laws have also "been proposed which are called
secondary. The primary laws are conceived as those which account
for the tendency of any objects to recur or be represented to the mind, by
means of the several classes of objects or relations which have been
considered. The secondary laws are conceived to regulate the recurrence
of one object in any class rather than another. They might with propri-
ety be called laws of the preference or precedence of particular objects.
They are designed to explain more particularly the operation of the repre-
sentative power. Whether these secondary laws may not also be explained
by the principles already reached, remains to be seen, after subjecting
them to a critical examination.
The secondary laws have been enumerated and propounded
merateT6 enu~ as ^°^ows : (*•) Those objects are more likely to be recalled,
other things being equal, which occupy the mind for the long-
est period of time ; (2.) those also which are apprehended most vividly ;
(3.) those which are brought most frequently before the mind ; (4.) those
which were most recently present ; (5.) those which are the most free
from entangling relations ; (6.) those which are contemplated with the
greatest strength of emotion ; (7.) those which are viewed with favoring
circumstances of bodily health; (8.) those which are coincident with
prevalent habits ; (9.) those to which the original constitution of body or
mind predisposes us with the greatest interest or aptness (cf. Dr. Thomas
Brown, Lecture 37).
§ 257. A critical examination of these laws will enable us to reduce them to
ble to the same some general expression. Perhaps it will show that both the secondary and
theprmary]"*11 Primai7 rest uPon tne same general principle. The first, concerning length
of time, has already been shown to be a necessary incident to the operation
of the general law for which we have contended, that an attentive or energetic apprehension
of objects in their relations is a ground of their tendency to be recalled. The so-called objects
with which we have to do, are ordinarily complex, each part holding many relations to one
another and to other objects. Some length of time may be necessary, it is alwaysjavorable,
to the varied and repeated applications of the intellect to those objects and relations, which
will awaken the mind to its highest energy. The second is nearly coincident with our funda.
mental principle.
The third presents ground for inquiry. Why does simple repetition give any
The force of rep- advantage? We answer: A second look, especially if it follows that which
etition. wenfc before after a considerable interval of time, presents the object as
divested of the distracting influences which novelty imparts. It is taken
g 257. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF EEPKESENTATTON. 267
when the mind is critical and cool — when it inquires whether its former judgment was correct.
Each new or repeated view, whether near or remote, reveals some fresh relation to some
familiar or novel object, and thus increases the chance of its being suggested to the mind a
second time. For example, by one act the diamond is apprehended as the brightest, or the
hardest, or the most costly of the gems ; and so, when the gems are thought of, the diamond
is suggested. By another view, its relation to carbon is discerned, and then the diamond will
be l'ecalled when charcoal, or marble, or carbonic acid are present to the thoughts.
The fourth law is, that an object contemplated recently, is, if other things are
The recentness equal, more likely to be recalled than the same object if viewed longer ago.
thought ofot)^ect A countenance casually and hastily seen an hour since, may be recollected or
recalled by another similar face within this short interval of time, but be lost
forever if the occasion which suggests it does not soon present itself. The fact is unques-
tioned, and it may perhaps be an ultimate fact. It rather concerns the loss or waste of power,
than any positive force or tendency. If expressed in the language or terms taken from the
general principle which we have laid down as fundamental, it would be thus phrased : "the
tendency of any act of the mind to be recalled or repeated is weakened by disuse, till, finally,
it wholly ceases." "Whether it is properly said to be weakened, or superseded, is an open ques-
tion. This is true of the kindred question, whether any acquisition of the mind can be irrecov-
erably lost (cf. § 290).
One palpable and prominent exception to this general tendency to weakness
The memory of or loss may be urged, in the frequent cases of persons who in old age remem-
old age. ^er jibing so vividly as the scenes and events which occurred longest ago.
Often the whole of the intervening life is entirely erased from the soul, while
the memories of youth and childhood are still vivid and distinct. Several reasons may be
given for this plain exception to the operation of the laws already considered. Many of the
remembrances of childhood have been recalled again and again through a long life. These
objects have been suggested by a great number of occasions, have been viewed and reviewed
under the greatest variety of relations, and been attended by the strongest and the tenderest
emotions. Though the events of childhood, as realities, were present to the mind longest ago,
yet, as thought-objects, they may be the most fresh and recent. Nor should it be forgotten
that the objects and events of childhood were contemplated by the mind at first with an almost
exclusive and absorbing attention. The few persons that stand out in so bold relief from the
background of life when life is reviewed, filled its entire foreground when life was all in the
future, for they were the only persons with whom the child was brought in contact. The
memorable occurrences of childhood were the absorbing subjects of thought for days before
they occurred. They were often reviewed with fond reflection after they were past. The
learning to count ten or one hundred, the wearing a certain dress ; the beginning of school-
life ; the long-anticipated, the often-reviewed and recited visit to some relative, the first con-
siderable journey, the first party, the first composition — were most important occurrences in
their time, and spread themselves over a large portion of the horizon of the infant life.
The fifth law (which relates to entangling relations) has already been provided
The force of en- for> jf ^e p0ints or features to which these relations, and the thereby related
tangling rela- r ' J
tions. objects, are attached, are very numerous, the greater is the probability that
the object will be recalled, provided the relations, and the related objects, be
discerned with equal energy of attention and ardor of interest. But if the multiplicity of
relations divides and thus weakens the interest, the influence of their number is distracting
and entangling. In illustration of the operation of this law, Dr. Brown observes : " The song
which we have never heard but from one person, can scarcely be heard again by us without
recalling that person to our memory ; but there is obviously much less chance of this particu-
lar suggestion, if we have heard the same air and words frequently sung by others " {Lec-
ture 31).
Upon this we remark : If the frequent repetition of the song has the effect to withdraw
288 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §258.
the attention from the first impression, and to exclude its being often repeated and revived,
then it becomes less likely that the person who sung it for the first time will be suggested by
the air ; but if, every time it is sung by any one, that person is recalled, then the song will be
more ineffaceably associated with him the more frequently it is sung.
The sixth and seventh have already been noticed and explained (§§ 251.2). The eighth
needs but a word. So far as facility of association depends on repetition, and so far as par-
ticular habits facilitate repetition, so far is this general fact resolved by the law concerning
repetition. So far as habit, or easy repetition by habit, enables us to concentrate the attention
with greater energy and interest, so far is its power explained by the strength of the single or
repeated apprehensions for which habit provides.
The ninth law supposes that there are original differences and aptitudes in
Natural apti- different individuals for certain classes of associations. This is doubtless
true. But it should never be forgotten that these original aptitudes do not
pertain to the faculty of representation or the so-called faculty of association
as such, but that it extends equally to the power of presentation and intuition. Whatever we
energetically observe or connect by relations, in original intuition, we revive by association.
The range of the objects which we can recall depends on the range of objects and relations
which we can apprehend. The special aptness which we have for representing objects, de-
pends on the aptness with which we present or acquire them. There is no special aptness for
special associations, or for various and ready suggestion, separate from a readiness to discern
special classes of objects and relations, and to discern them with interest and energy.
§ 258. There are what seem, on the first aspect, exceptions
Apparent excep- \ . , , . """ . ■ _ ' * - ; ' _ ..
tions to the law to the universal application of the laws of association.
of association. .^ * x
While no one can doubt that many thoughts are suggested
from the past through a manifest and discernible connection with objects
or thoughts that are present, there are many cases of apparent deviation
from this rule. It would seem that, if the rule were worth any thing, it
ought to be universal. And yet there are many cases when a thought
seems all at once to dart into the mind, which has no apparent connection
with any thought that is present. In many such cases, the connections can
be traced through all their concealed and circuitous ways, and the several
objects that served as media can all be uncovered one by one. We cite
the familiar story recorded by Hobbes : " In a company in which the con-
versation turned upon the late civil war, what could be conceived more
impertinent than for a person to ask abruptly, What was the value of a
Roman denarius ? On a little reflection, however, I was able to trace the
train of thought which suggested the question ; for the original subject of
discourse introduced the history of the king, and of the treachery of those
who surrendered his person to his enemies ; this again introduced the
treachery of Judas Iscariot, and the sum of money which he received for
his reward" (Zeviathan, p. i. c. 3).
This story is better worth repeating for its antiquity, than because of
the singularity of its matter. It has served as an illustration of the opera-
tion of association in all the books since Hobbes' time. But the case is
no more singular nor striking than the experience of any lively mind could
furnish in every half-hour. If any person not absorbed with the objects
§259. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 289
of sense, or bent upon some present achievement, will break in upon his
movements of reverie with the question, How did this or that thought
occur to my mind ? he will be surprised, and perhaps amused, at the series
of strangely connected thoughts which introduced it to his notice. In
many cases, the thought, though abrupt and strange, will be found to have
a real connection with the thought which it seemed to jostle and displace.
There are thoughts, however, the connections of which we cannot trace
out. What ought we to believe in respect to them ? Should we still hold
that the law of association governs their movement, though we cannot
trace its presence or furnish the proof of its working ?
§ 259. In answer to this question, two opposite views have been maintained.
Two theories The first i3 held by Dugald Stewart and others — that the mind is momen-
nation. tarily conscious of the presence of these intervening objects, though it cannot
recall them in memory ; that the media of association are present long
enough to act as links of connection, but not long enough to leave any trace upon the mem-
ory. Thus, when the object a was known to be present, and all at once E darts into the mind
— though we did not know how or why — it was nevertheless true that b, c, d, and e did
occur to the mind each long enough to suggest the other, and so the mind was carried on to f,
on which it rests with distinct and conscious apprehension, though it cannot recall one of these
intervening objects.
The second theory is urged by Hamilton, following a suggestion of Leibnitz, and agreeing
with the school of Herbart. These all contend that, 'though b, c, d, and e were present long
enough to influence the train of consciously associated thoughts, yet the mind was in no sense
aware of their presence ; for it is unphilosophical to suppose an object present to conscious-
ness without leaving some impression upon the memory. No analogous cases can be adduced,,
and the hypothesis must be rejected as groundless.' Besides, it is urged, ' another principle can
be adduced to explain the phenomena — that of latent or unconscious modifications of the
mind. In this we have a recognized and actually existing law, which is sufficient to account
for all the facts, and which ought therefore to be accepted as their valid explanation.'
Upon this argument we observe, that it is not true, as is represented, that there are no
grounds on which to rest the first hypothesis. In the very case supposed, when r suddenly
and strangely follows upon a, if we bethink ourselves at once, we can recall some intervening
links of b, c, d, and e. We say, if we bethink ourselves at once ; for if the effort is made a
few instants later, the clue will fall from our hands. At other times, when it seems to have
totally escaped and eluded us, it can be recovered by persistent effort and determination.
Now, the fact that in some apparently desperate cases we can succeed, demonstrates that the
objects might have been — nay, that they actually were, present to the consciousness, though
they seemed not to have been. We have a right to infer, then, on grounds of analogy, that
they are so in all cases. The analogy of acknowledged and similar phenomena is wholly with
the first theory. Moreover, analogy would seem to suggest and confirm the principle, that
where there is a feeble activity of consciousness, there is a feeble hold upon the memory ; and
we conclude conversely, that where there is the slenderest hold upon the memory, there must
have been the feeblest possible energy of consciousness. The advocate of the second theory
would argue, that where there is no memory, there can have been no consciousness. We have
ehown that in instances in which there seems to be no memory, memory is present, but with
feeble energy ; and we have reason to conclude that it may always be so, when the effect
argues the presence of conscious activity. What is intended by the phrase, the latent modifica-
tion of consciousness is not alogether clear. If it be explained as only a very low degree of
conscious activity, the two theories are in principle the same.
19
290 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 261.
8 260. The representative power tends to unceasing activity.
Repr esenta- " .',*«. , *. „ , - , ' „
Hon unceasingly JLne mind, it given up to the operation oi the laws of asso-
Tictivo
ciation, would never cease to furnish itself with new objects.
Each object last discerned would suggest another. This would call up its
fellow, and the series of successive objects would suffer no interruption
and would come to no end. It has been said with great effect — and the
thought is a pregnant one — that, were the senses excited to action only
long enough to furnish the soul with requisite material and fully to de-
velop all its powers, and then to be sealed up forever, the spirit would
have acquired material enough for its endless activity, and its activity
in simple representation would go on forever. (Bishop Butler, Analogy,
p. i. c. i.) We know from observation, that when the other activities are
as nearly suspended as is possible, as in dreaming and reverie, the
train of associated objects still rushes past the eye of fancy with a rapidity
that cannot be measured. In cases of an abnormal excitement of the
brain, it seems beyond our control, and we suffer intensely from the energy
and swiftness with which thoughts of every variety force themselves upon
our notice, while we can neither retard nor regulate their course. But
strong as this activity is, and difficult of control as it at times may be, it
does not often assume exclusive or supreme possession. There are two
methods by which this activity is interrupted and turned aside. The one
is objective, the other is subjective.
. § 261. We consider, first, the objective interruption. Every
ruptions to this new object of sense-perception introduces a foreign and
diverting element. Representation gives way to presenta-
tion or acquisition. We do not deny that both these activities may
be excited together, and that two series, of presentation and representa-
tion, may go forward side by side. It would seem from experience
that this often happens. In waking gently from sleep, the images of the
dream-world blend with the realities of the sense-world. Even in our
waking hours, the hard world which the senses give us, is constantly blended
with the spirit-world in which we dream. Even in the thronged city,
the crowded assembly, the pictured theatre, and the musical concert-room,
when the entire energy is tasked and excited to do justice to the number-
less objects that address the senses, the fancy is often apparently as busy as
ever in its more crowded and exciting world, and finds itself hundreds of
miles distant from the absorbing scene. The soberest world of the most
prosaic and practical thinker is a silver tissue sparkling with the images
which the fancy will persist in interweaving into its homely fabric. Let all
this be admitted, and still it is true that the two species of activity cannot
occupy the attention at the same moment with equal energy ; and that the
sense-world and sense-objects will break in upon the activity of the fancy.
Let but a single object do this for a single instant, and a starting-point is
furnished for a new train of thought in an entirely new direction.
§ 263. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPBESENTATION. 291
§ 262. The subjective interruption, diversion, and control of
fu 1}ioCDsVe inter" ^e representative activity of the soul, are still more impor
tant. The ego which at times may seem to be the helpless
victim or the amused spectator of this moving diorama, is not always an
idle or passive looker-on. It has but to detain any single object by simple
caprice perhaps, or at the impulse of interested emotion, and the object
detained and repeated suggests new objects, to each of which it sustains
many relations. By simply arresting the course of representation, its
independent activity is as truly controlled and newly directed as if some
object of sense had obtruded itself upon the attention.
But the mind can do that which is far more effective and important
than to detain an object before its attention from simple impulse of emo
tion. It must exert upon every such object its higher and nobler activi-
ties, for it cannot repress them. If it cognizes the existence of the object,
it discerns it as present, and as diverse from itself. It may remember it
as having before been present. It may compare it with other objects,
bring it into a new or a familiar class, name it, reason about it, make from
it some induction, mould from it some imaginative creation, apply it in
illustration or analogy, discern in it relations of beauty, learn from it some
moral lesson, or find in it some manifestation of the divine. Each one of
these activities will evolve a new product, which product may serve as a
starting-point for a new series of representations. These activities are far
more potent and effective than the merely passive services of the repre-
senting power, though they blend Avith them so intimately as not easily
to be distinguished from them. So rapid are all these higher actions to a
well-trained intellect, that the mind seems to be pouring out the ore of
gathered wealth at the feet of the recipient, when it is, in fact, recasting
and restamping each portion anew. As the mind mingles the thinking
power with the activity of perception, when it seems only to see and
hear with the organs of sense, so does it elevate and transform its acts of
memory and fancy by the penetrating analysis and combining synthesis of
rational judgment in all the varieties of activity and production.
We have already shown (§ 234) that the representative power is that which is pre-
eminently serviceable to thought. It works more rapidly than sense or consciousness. It in
fact elaborates the actualities of present and raw experience into refined materials for thought
to rework a second time. It enables the rational power in many ways to proceed more quickly,
and with fewer encumbrances, to its own results.
Association not § 2^3* That is a most superficial and untrue conception to
the only nor the take of the representative power and the laws of association,
most important L x
power. which resolves into them all the nobler and more important
operations and products of the human soul. Such a view excludes indi-
vidual energy and self-respect — as well as the capacity for moral relations
to one's self, to our fellow-men, and to God.
292 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 264.
In one aspect, the mind may be properly said to be entirely dependent
on the necessary workings of the laws of representation. It cannot think
of any object which the phantasy does not bring within its field of vision,
[f phantasy be limited, or feeble, or slow, or torpid, through original con
stitution or the neglect of culture, it will furnish these objects slowly,
feebly, and scantily ; if it be rapid and energetic, it will marshal them
swiftly, and strongly, and abundantly. So far as it acts as phantasy only,
it obeys these conditions ; but this it does but rarely when in a normal
and wakeful state. So far as it reacts upon the materials which phantasy
furnishes, or coacts with itself as representing, by also thinking and cre-
ating— which it does almost always — so far does it direct, and originate
new trains, and, in so doing, exert its active power.
This active power is to a great extent dependent on the strength and direction
largely upon the of the emotions and sensibilities. What a man makes of the materials which
emotions and representation furnishes by detaining or elaborating them, will of course depend
upon his feelings, both momentary and permanent. The feeling which hap-
pens to be uppermost will direct to the acceptance or rejection of the thought which pleases
or displeases. The desire which prevails will direct to the use which is made of the object
while it is thus detained. Permanent moods or habits of feeling in this way direct the
energies. The voluntary activities and states, so far as they control the feelings, become the
moving forces to all the other acts and products of the soul.
8 264. Besides this direct action upon the representative
Indirect control " _ ,'",'"'. , -i • i . ,. -i •/> mi
over the associa- faculty, there is another which acts indirectly, if possible
with still greater effect. The action is direct when, in the
ways described, the ego arrests and modifies the onward current of what
would otherwise be passive tendencies. It is indirect so far as, by every
such action, a greater facility or force is given to such tendencies for the
future. Every present energy of attention, every special effort of crea-
tion or thought, gives additional strength to certain bonds of association,
and imparts special facility to the mind in reviving their objects. A prece-
dence is thereby established for certain trains of thought. They come a
second time, and ever afterward, more easily and naturally. This very
circumstance enables us to apply the mind to similar objects with less
effort and greater pleasure, till, at last the mind has created for itself
almost a new medium of life, a second atmosphere for its own easy and
familiar action, which is purely the product of its own previous activities.
The feelings provide for their own perpetuation and increased force as they
direct to this or that intellectual activity; as they furnish for the next
occasion the very objects and relations which are the best fitted to excite
them a second time, and end at last by giving them almost exclusive pos-
session of the soul. The habits of feeling, the moods of good or ill tem-
per, of depression or cheerfulness, of openness or suspicion, in this way
tend to become permanent and more intense. Hence, preeminently, every
controlling or commanding purpose, whether morally good or bad, tends
§265. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 293
to perpetuate itself, and to secure the execution of its own behests. First.
It prompts the mind to detain those objects which have relation to itself
second, it impels it to consider them with the utmost force of attention.
Thus are developed and strengthened those tendencies, in obedience to
*v~hich the mind learns at last to think of those objects, and only those,
svhich it requires, and to use them in its service with dexterity and readi-
ness. Under the constant presence and guiding control of such a purpose,
all the trains of associated objects become its " ready servitors," which
bring to mind, when needed, the facts and suggestions, the illustrations
and arguments, the happy phrases and expressive words, which are re-
quired for thought, expression, and act.
Various familiar phenomena illustrate the force of these indirect influences
Illustrations upon the representative faculty. The same material object suggests to
phenomena. different persons associations that are entirely unlike and even opposite to
one another. The scene, the house, the apartment, which to one man is full
of the deepest interest, is to another indifferent. To one person it recalls suggestions fraught
with peace, affection, and joy ; to another, memories of hatred, remorse, and terror. The
name of this or that great personage is fragrant with inspiration to the ear and soul of
some ; while from the mind of another it elicits the response of simple recognition. To one
man, the names of Kepler, of Newton, of Raphael, or of Beethoven, call up simply the place
and date of their birth ; to another, the thought of their achievements ; the one may incite to
special reflections upon their science or art ; the other to the secret of their skill and success.
To the same man, on different occasions and in different moods, the same object will suggest
different associations, according to the feelings of the hour or the purpose for which he is
thinking. We may almost say without exaggeration, that in every present activity of the
mind there is revived and indirectly made to reappear the whole of the man's previous history,
as each of its acts and events have been taken up by the force of the soul's purely passive
tendencies, and so incorporated into its very essence.
8 265. The law of association, according to the views of its
Law of associa- " . » % *
tion and law of nature and energy which have been enforced, rests upon the
same original principle which explains the law of habit
One object suggests another, because one mental state which is similar in
part to another tends to be like it in every particular. This principle,
when expressed in other language, is equivalent to — any mental activity or
experience, when it is repeated, is more readily performed.
The question has often been mooted, and sometimes earnestly discussed,
Which is re- Which of these principles is fundamental and original — the principle of asso-
other 1 ciation, or the principle of habit ? Keid contends for the principle of habit
(Essay, iv. chap. 4). Dugald Stewart urges that the principle of habit can be
resolved into the laws of association (Elements, p. i. § 6). Hamilton observes, in a note upon
Reid, that " we can as well explain habit by association, as association by habit." This last
remark is true only if we admit — as Stewart, Hume, and others, seem to assume — that associa-
tion is to be resolved into an attractive force between kindred ideas or relations as such. We
have contended that such an attraction, as a force independent of the relation they have to
the subjective state or activity of the mind apprehending them, is altogether inconceivable.
If the force is derived from this source, then it must be resolved into the law of facility of
repetition in similar acts or states. Hamilton, in accepting the law of redintegration, is
294 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §267.
forced by consistency to adopt the same theory, and in the last analysis to " explain associa
tion by habit."
§ 266. Which of these is the more philosophical theory is
Theory of habit, evident not only from the considerations which have already
been urged, but from the very conception of habit and its
operation in all the departments of being in which it prevails.
Habit, Lat. habitus, Gr. e^,?, is literally a way of being held, or of
holding one's self. Thus defined, it must denote a permanent state of rest
which has been reached as the result of action or growth, or a permanent
form of activity, or of readiness or facility for any kind of activity. As
such facility for action is universally observed to result from repetition of
action, this last element is taken up into the conception or definition of
habit. The acquisition of facility by repetition, supposes that some diffi
culty or hindrance has been overcome.
In whatever department of nature habit is observed, often a
Supposes some . ... . .
difficulty to be difficulty is noticed m the beginning, whether the habits are
overcome. ° °
purely psychical or corporeal, or whether they are both physi-
cal and mental conjoined ; whether they are emotional or moral, or whether,
as is often true, they are all three together.
Examples of bodily habits are furnished by a particular gait ; the dexter-
ous management of the hand in the use of a saw, a chisel, a hatchet, or a
plane, in driving or in drawing ; and the control of the limbs in dancing or
gymnastic feats. The acquisition of such habits does indeed usually involve
the use of the mind, and the gain of facility in such use. But we may consider apart the for-
mation of the body only to a new habitude, and for the moment have to do only with the
changes in the states and functions of the body which our senses observe to be more and more
readily made. We will afterward consider the more facile and dexterous dealing of the mind
with the body through the sensations of which we are conscious. We suppose, that at the out-
set the special use required is difficult, either because some habitual and undesirable adjustment
or predisposition of the muscles has been attained, or because they are imperfectly or wrongly
adjusted by nature. An effort is required involving physical tension or physical pain ; as
when we would bring the organs to utter the unused sounds of a strange language, or would
bring the fingers or the limbs to painful or constrained positions. We may explain the obstacle
or hindrance by a certain power or tendency of the reflex activities of the nervous system.
The conquest may consist in the facility which it is possible to acquire, by a gradual
assumption by the reflex motors of new forms of muscular adjustment. Whether or not this
is a satisfactory explanation of the difficulty and its conquest, the difficulty and its conquest are
observed and experienced in the attitudes and adjustments of the body. That the human
body, in its growth and training, is capable of acquiring, by use, the facile and even spontane-
ous use of its powers, is an original fact which is too obvious to be questioned. With this
law or principle, which operates in and over the body, it is obvious that the association of
ideas or sensations can have nothing to do, for there are no ideas or sensations to be asso-
ciated or united together.
§ 267. We pass next to mental habits— -first, those which are
obstacles to be developed in connection with such bodily adjustments as we
have supposed ; and second, those which concern functions
§ 267. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF KEP11ESENTATION. 295
that are simply and purely mental. Side by side with the new adjustments
to which the muscles are constrained with a more and more ready obedience
there must proceed a constantly increased facility in the mind's connection
and control of the appropriate sensations, according to the ends which it
intends to accomplish ; or rather, the movements of the mind are the real
beginnings of the new adjustments and growths of the body. The jug-
gler and the gymnast, the mechanic and the artist, the dancer and the
player on the yiolin or the organ, do not simply train the bodily organs to
the requisite suppleness and aptitudes, but they acquire a surprising readi-
ness of the mind to connect with every movement the sensations which
indicate the activities and efforts to which the body is physically
trained. If a mental facility supposes a mental difficulty, what is this
difficulty ? It is, first of all, a difficulty of mental application to certain
mental objects, and, with this, a difficulty in the ready mental combination
of the objects which are required. This intellectual obstacle is usually
increased, and in some cases wholly occasioned, by one that is emotional
or moral. The occupation of the mind with this particular class of
objects, or of objects in this special form, is not agreeable. Hence, the
great secret of success is to excite an interest of some kind in the sub-
jects that are proposed or the efforts which are required. A difficulty or
hindrance of some sort must be supposed as an original fact, in order to
explain the universal and palpable necessity and attainment of intellectual
progress and growth. The force to be overcome cannot exist in ideas or
relations as such, but in the mind's own acts concerning ideas and rela-
tions. If this is the case, the difficulty must arise from an original defi-
ciency in the aptitudes of all men for certain applications of the energies to
certain objects and relations, and for the exercise of certain mental pow-
ers. We must, as has already been asserted, assume as an ultimate fact
that for all men a certain exercise of sense-perception is easy, while the
close application of consciousness is difficult. So also concrete knowledge
is easy ; generalized or abstract knowledge is difficult. To some, the study
of language is natural, while the study of the mathematics is especially
repulsive.
In habits that are purely mental, as in the greater facility that is acquired by
Wherein the study in general, or the surprising progress which may be made in any
difficulty lies. special science, as the mathematics or the languages, or the still more
unlooked-for dexterity which may be gained in certain intellectual feats, as
of punning, rhyming, etc., etc., the difficulty lies in a reluctant or unwonted attention, and the
dexterity pertains to the subjective tendency toward similar activities which is acquired by
exercise. The difficulty and the facility are assumed to be unquestioned and original facts.
When the habits are purely emotional or moral, so far as they can be con-
Emotional and ceived as such, the difficulty to be encountered is a natural or acquired ten-
moral habits. dency in an emotion to excessive and abnormal activity. This tendency can
be overcome only by the frequent exercise of other emotions, till they act
with proper readiness and strength. Leaving out of account the voluntary element, or rathei
296 the HUMAisr intellect. §269.
supposing that this is rightly adjusted, it may be assumed that this original difficulty in
the natural tendencies remains when the new habits are to be acquired.
The completion of mo^al or emotional habits ordinarily involves also the training of the
intellectual habits to the ready suggestion of new thoughts, and very often of the body
itself, to readiness in appropriate actions.
This general survey of the extent and common features of the conditions and the
operation of habit brings of itself an argument of strong probability in favor of the view
which we have taken, that the law of mental suggestion or association is only a special form of
this general law or principle.
§ 268. The laws of association are again divided into higher
Higher and low- ° rm t t i • -i ■»
er laws of asso- and lower. The lower, are those which are presented to us
ciation. ...
in the acquisitions of sense and consciousness, and which are
reproduced by the representative imagination or the uncultured memory.
These are the relations of time and space. As they are more obvious and
natural, they require little of higher culture or discipline. They are also
developed earliest in the order of time, and are common to the whole race.
The relations of likeness and of contrast form an intermediate class be-
tween the natural and the philosophical ; being now present in the one,
and then largely represented in the other. The higher, are the relations
of cause and effect/ involving means and end, premise and conclusion,
datum and inference, genus and species, law and example — all, in short,
of the so-called philosophical or logical relations. All these are present
in and control the higher imagination and the more developed processes
of thought.
It is to be observed, that these relations are not higher or lower in the scale
hi^h^and^ow- °^ ran^ or dignity, as relations of association or representation merely, but
er. as relations of original acquisition and thought. Inasmuch, however, as the
intellectual power of men and their individual peculiarities, as well as the
character of the products which result from the peculiarities of thought and feeling, depend
on the movements of the representative faculty ; the rank, the comparative dignity, and
mutual influence of these relations, deserve special consideration. What a man is, is con-
veniently described and most satisfactorily accounted for by the recognition of the leading
connections and guiding principles after which thoughts come into his mind. The products of
his intellect in his conversation, his writings, and his reasonings, as also in his beliefs and his
principles, reflect the operation of these relations as lower and higher (cf. Dugald Stewart,
Elements, p. i. § 6).
The higher often § 269. The higher relations of thought and of the creative
prevail over and ... - •»• n -i -t «
displace the low- imagination are so diverse from the lower relations of sense,
that they often supersede and displace them, if they do not
cross and contradict them. In sense-perception and consciousness, objects
most opposed and incongruous are conjoined, just as they happen to present
themselves in space or in time. The mechanical memory or imagination
servilely reproduces them under precisely the same relations in which they
were originally presented and known. But thought and the higher im-
agination take the objects thus accidentally conjoined, and recombine and
reproduce them under the relations that are higher; selecting, perhaps,
§ 270. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 297
a few prominent facts or elements as the prominent objects of its intel-
lectual energy, and leaving the rest unnoticed and unregarded. It is quite
easy to see how it is possible that this higher activity of representation
may in many individuals greatly prevail over that which is lower, so fai
even as to exclude the normal and natural influence of the latter. By such
excess, many not uncommon diversities of intellectual and moral character
can easily be explained, and those striking idiosyncrasies of imagination
and memory can be accounted for which are designated by the vaguely-
used term, absent-mindedness.
The absent-minded person is one who has habitually become so indifferent
Absent-minded- and inattentive to the objects which address his senses, through preoccu-
ness exp aine . patj0n with a roving imagination or abstracted thought, that his senses seem
often to be unused, and his memory to be utterly untrustworthy. He be-
comes sublimely, or perhaps ridiculously, indifferent to the common relations of common
objects and events. The effect upon the memory and the imagination of a similar reversal
of the intentions of nature, will be explained under the appropriate heads.
§ 270. As the higher may take the place of the lower
place thlnighS" relations, so the lower may exclude or displace the higher.
The constant or even the frequent conjunction of objects
and phenomena may in consequence be mistaken for their necessary rela-
tions or essential conditions or constituents. A savage, who should see
gunpowder exploded by an electric spark, would associate the whole of
the electric apparatus, and perhaps even the words and the dress of the
operator, with the occurrence of the explosion, and take the combination
to be made by a necessary connection of things. The ignoramus who
sees a conjurer perform certain manipulations, or hears him repeat the
words of some incantation in connection with a surprising feat, unites the
two by an association so inveterate as to believe that the one is the cause
of the other. The manifold and inveterate superstitions that have been
so readily accepted anil so tenaciously retained, are in this way to be ex-
plained. Startling or noticeable events have occurred together by a merely
casual connection, which have been henceforward associated as essential
the one to the other ; as, to success in battle, the healing of disease, the
removal of an epidemic, the termination of drought, the cessation of an
eclipse, or the acceptable performance of some religious rite.
We assume that the original observation of the relation of events conjoined, may have
been hasty, and that the judgment reached has been in consequence unauthorized. There has
been no real discernment of the cause, or law, or adaptation that was sought for. Some
unessential connection has taken their place, and the objects casually united in a hasty
observation being perpetually presented in a conjunction of time or place, are associated so
fixedly, that the philosophical or religious superstition has a show of plausibility or reason.
Whether it has or not, it retains its hold upon the mind. Nor are errors of this sort confined
to uncultured and ignorant races or uneducated men. Men of quick association and ready
suggestion, even if they attain the highest culture in many directions, often scorn that disci-
pline to philosophical thinking of which they stand in special need because, from the verj
298 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §271.
quickness of their power to combine, they are most liable to mistake the asssociations of
their various and ready wit for the sober and solid relations of thought.
rhe lower asso- § 271. The lower associations — those of constant or frequent
the feelings most conjunction — are most observable when they strongly affect
our feelings. Objects which are in themselves indifferent,
or which ought to be and would otherwise be positively offensive, excite
the intensest misliking, simply because they are connected in our thoughts
with objects which in their essential nature are fitted to please or dis-
please us. For example, a dress that itself, in color, form, and fitting,
is tasteful, becomes permanently displeasing, as well as any that resemble
it, because it brings distinctly to mind a very disagreeable person who
wore it. The remembrance of a journey, or some other event of our per-
sonal history, is always unwelcome, because it was connected in our expe-
rience, and is therefore associated in our thoughts, with some serious
disappointment or calamity. The sight of the surgeon who saved our
life by performing a painful operation, is not always agreeable, however
sincere may be our gratitude. Certain persons are very pleasing or very
displeasing, because they bring to mind memories or thoughts which we
cherish or reject.
A dress of the newest fashion may be at first singular and unattractive. But
How and why it is soon generally worn by those who are attractive in appearance, graceful
fashions change. an(j refine(j ^ manners, and high in social position. It is soon regarded as
in itself highly graceful and agreeable, till no other is tolerable. It is not
long before it becomes common, and this detracts somewhat from its factitious attractions.
When it is worn obtrusively by the filthy and vulgar, and becomes conspicuous in connection
with persons who are rightfully disagreeable, it is time that this fashion should change, or that
some other novelty should appear, in order to relieve the associations of the fashionable world
from the offensive taint of vulgarity.
The moral influence of accidental associations is still more
The moral infiu- . _ .. „• s .
ence of casual worthy of attention, for their power ior evil as well as their
capacity for good. Pleasing manners, high intellectual cul-
ture, the attractions of wealth and position, may be combined with liber-
tine principles and easy morals, and thus become powerful aids and instru-
ments of vice and corruption. The drunken revel may, by the force of
associations of this kind, not only be endured as less disgusting, but it
may be gloried in by the aspirant after high society, as the sign of gentle-
manly breeding and fashionable life. The horrors of the first cigar and
the first debauch are greatly alleviated by manifold suggestions that the
experience of both are necessary to constitute the gentleman. The easy
manners, the gay life, and the generous hospitality of the cavaliers of
Charles I, and of the courtiers of Charles II, lent a charm to their cause
and a fascination to their name and memory ; while the unnatural strict-
ness, the over-stiff manners, and the precise pedantry of the Puritans have
caused their pure morals, their patriotic heroism, and their fervent piety to
§272. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 29il
be odious in the minds of many noble men, and have burdened their very
name with associations of contempt and reproach.
§ 272. The force of casual associations is in no particular
Influence of cas- . , . _
uai associations more conspicuous than m its influence upon language. A
deed that is abhorrent to the conscience and offensive to the
judgment and feelings of right-minded and plain-speaking men, is more
than half reconciled to the moral feelings, and perhaps is installed among
the virtues, by softening or dignifying the appellations by which it is
named — that is, by designating it by words that suggest associations of
respectability and honor. Men seek to keep down or to avoid associations
of disgust or abhorrence by the device of euphemistic terminology. It is
not always true that ' vice loses half its evil by losing all its grossness ; '
for the very grossness which is its natural manifestation and result, is
sometimes the best defence of society against the corruption to which it
tends. To seek to divest it of the offensive associations which this gross-
ness is fitted to excite, by substituting associations which are less unpleas-
ant, is often to defeat one of the intentions of nature, which would keep
the conscience honest and true, if she cannot make the conduct right
(cf. J. S. Mill, Logic, B. iv. chap. v. §§ 3, 4).
The power of epithets and names to awaken pleasant or
andCnamesitliet8 unP^easant associations is well illustrated in the history of
parties and in the practice of partisans. A party that is en-
cumbered by an epithet or appellation of odious associations or disagree-
able origination, hastens to disencumber itself of an appendage that is
more fatal than the shirt of Nessus ; while its opponents are as eager and
determined that it shall retain the damaging reproach. There are cities
of Europe in which the use by one man to another of certain epithets or
gestures, which of themselves are harmless and innocent, is resented as the
deadliest of insults, simply because these are associated with a shameful
and humiliating passage in their history. The skilful application of epi-
thets like Whig and Tory, Malignant and Roundhead, Girondists and
the Mountain, Conservative and Radical, is often more efficient with the
populace than the most convincing arguments or the most persuasive elo-
quence. Agreeable associations, through the subtle reaction of language,
have not only palliated — they have even recommended the most contempt-
ible follies, the most outrageous violence, and the most abominable
crimes.
Even philosophy herself, though professing to be subject to thought-relations
Their influence only, is by no means exempt from the influence of casual associations oper-
in philosophy. ating through this same medium of words. It is often more effective, even
in the schools, to apply an epithet, as sensuous or spiritual, empirical or
rational, unselfish or utilitarian, than it is to disprove an analysis or answer an argument — to
give an opinion an odious name, or apply a contemptuous epithet, than to consider its evidence
or refute its reasons. The soberest and the best-governed men are more or less affected by
individual associations in their tastes, their preferences, their manners, their reading, thei?
jOO the human intellect. § 273.
ompanions, their politics, and their faith. "We could not be wholly aloof or exempt from
their influence if we would. We would not if we could ; for, in so doing, we should forego
much of our individuality, and of that which makes our individuality dear. But it is the
interest and duty of every man so far to regulate the influence of such associations, that he
does not become the easy victim or the abject slave of chance and arbitrary circumstances.
Whatever is right and true cannot be disagreeable, when it is sustained, adorned, and hal-
lowed by associations that are only attractive. Indeed, it is not till the reason and conscience
rule so completely over the whole man, as to transform and elevate even the individual and
casual associations, that the education of man is complete, and his character has attained that
harmony and perfection of which it is capable.
CHAPTER IV.
REPRESENTATION. — (l.) THE MEMORY, OR RECOGNIZING FACULTY.
Having considered the conditions and laws of the representative power, we proceed to apply
the results of our inquiries to the explanation of the principal modes in which its activ-
ity is exerted — to the so-called faculties of memory, phantasy, and imagination. The
memory comes first in order, because it is at once the most natural and yet the most
perfect form in which the power is used.
The elements § 2^3* -^n act or state °^ memory has already been denned
essential to an ^o ^e fa^ m which the essential elements of an act of pre-
act oi memory. ^
vious cognition are more or less perfectly re-known, both
objective and subjective, with the relations essential to each. These ele-
ments are not all recalled with the same distinctness, and hence, there are
varieties of memory ; but it is essential to an act of memory that some
portion of each of these elements and relations should be recalled and
reknown.
For example : I remember an event which occurred an hour ago — that a friend made me a
call, or passed me, as I was walking in the street. What is involved in this act of memory ?
First of all, I must reproduce the image of my friend as before me, or as he passed ; second,
I must recall the image or recollection of myself as seeing or conversing with him, perhaps
with more or less feeling. Unless both these elements are recalled, the object perceived or in
some way cognized, and myself in the act of apprehending and perhaps of feeling — i. e., the
objective and subjective elements — the act cannot be an act of memory. If we recall or
represent any event or object, and say we remember it, we must also recall ourselves in some
act or state related to it. Third, the act of originally knowing the object or event was my act
— i. e.t I, the same being who now recall and reknow it in the ways described, did know it
before. The act of knowing the object, and of having known it, are acts of the same being.
Fourth, the two acts are in this process also distinguished as before and after, the present as
actual, the past, both act and object, as having been actual. This involves the distinctions of
before and after, or the relations of succession involving time. Fifth, in the original act of
observation I must have been in some place, and the object observed must have sustained
some relation to attending or accompanying objects. Neither myself nor the object can ordi-
§274. EEPEESENTATION. — THE MEMORY. 301
narily be recalled without some of these accompaniments involving relations to space. Sixth,
the objective and subjective elements, and the relations which they involve, thus recalled as
images, must be known to represent realities. What is involved in this relation of the image
to a reality, and how it is possible, has already been discussed and explained (P. II. c. ii.).
These elements § 2^4. These are the necessary elements in an act or state
wfth be unequal °f memory. But though they must all be present and enter
perfection. jn^0 g^^ a state, they need not be present with the same
fulness or distinctness at all times, nor with the same relative fulness at
the same time. The total complex of objects and relations may be re-
called more or less perfectly, or each of the constituent elements may be
more or less vividly represented.
First : The object of the original act may be recalled with a
fho object prop- J ° . J
or, of the origi- greater or less completeness 01 its elements or parts. If the
object be purely a thought-object which we remember to
have cognized before, or a material object which is now present only as a
mental image, it may be only vaguely recalled at best, and its constituent
elements may be only very scantily reproduced. Even if it is a sense-
object which we perceive a second time, and remember as having been
perceived before, it may be that only a very small number of its distin-
guishable parts can be thus recalled, as having been thus previously per-
ceived.
Second : The original act of the mind in the first apprehen-
oiTknow&e8,0' s*on may a^so ^e more or ^ess perfectly recalled. I see a face
in a crowd. I recall it perfectly, and know that I have seen
it before ; but I cannot revive a single vestige of myself as viewing it, only
that I did thus view it I am certain by direct knowledge. And yet we
must have this recollection of our previous activity or feeling, or we cannot
be said to remember it at all. This certain knowledge may vary from the
vaguest possible impressions of our subjective state, to the most vivid and
circumstantial reviewal of every part or feature.
It might perhaps be suggested that this is not literally true of all remembered objects,
especially of those with which we are the most familiar, and which we are most certain that
we have often known ; as the streets and houses of our place of residence, or the persons of
our most familiar friends, or the facts of familiar knowledge, as the dates of the accession
of the sovereigns of England, of the beginning of our own national life, and the myriad
familiar facts of school acquisition. We are accustomed to say that we remember these
objects ; and yet we do not in all, nor in most cases, distinctly recall our act or state when we
first learned them, nor any previous act in which we accepted them as true. We may not
dwell upon such acts or states, it is true, because we do not give the associating power time or
play enough to call up so complete a picture ; but if we could not recall some such previous
act of perception or assent, we do not properly remember the object.
Third : The time when the object was previously known may
its relations of ke m0re or less perfectly recalled. If I remember an object
viewed or experienced half an hour ago, I may recall the
302 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §275
leading events which have happened to me from the present moment back-
ward to the original act of acquiring this knowledge. If it was yester-
day, or a month since, I can generally recall the events that were just
before and after it, and can connect it with the present by more or fewer
intervening occurrences, can fix the date so far as to know that it was in
a certain month of a certain year ; the attendants of which dates I can
recover with more or less fulness.
In some cases, the event stands isolated in the dim and undetermined past. In others, it
may not be wholly isolated from the events which preceded, accompanied, or followed, but yet
it can scarcely be said to be united with the present by any connecting series of events that
intervene.
Fourth: The place where, may be more or less perfectly
piLedations °f reca^e(^ an(i recognized. The place where, is a phrase which
denotes the adjacent and surrounding physical objects in
their spatial relations, which form the background and the setting of every
object perceived or every act of the person who remembers. Every object
previously observed, every act of my own in observing it, when them-
selves recalled, will bring back this accompanying setting more or less
perfectly, according as these accompaniments were originally regarded
with a more or less energetic and interested attention, or as a longer or
shorter time is allowed for the process of suggestion and recovery.
i ■ M § 275. Fifth : The knowledge of the real existence or actual
Theactofrecog- u , . • ■% .
nition may vary perception of remembered objects may also vary in the
in positiveness. x x ......
degree or accuracy or confidence with which it is held, h or
this simple knowledge no other explanation can be given, than that the
mind is competent to its exercise. The question is sometimes asked, Why
do we trust our memory ? To this philosophers have sought to. give an
answer by enumerating certain grounds or criteria — as that the object
must be clear, or that the image recalled must represent or agree with the
reality. But all these criteria, or grounds, are merely other words or
phrases, which express no more than the act of knowledge itself.
But does the mind always know — i. e.y remember — with equal certainty?
Do we never dis- Does it not sometimes distrust its own act in remembering ? And is there
ras^ e mem- not a difference observed between the act of doubting and of confidently
remembering, which justifies us in trusting the one and in distrusting the
other ? We answer : When we distrust our own act of memory, it is we ourselves who are
not certain. We seek to be certain ; sometimes we succeed, and pass from the condition of
painful doubt into that of confident knowledge. The object which was vaguely recalled now
stands vividly and distinctly before the eye of the mind. But the clearness and distinctness
of the objects are not the real causes which effect, or the logical grounds on which we rest
our positive knowledge. The terms distinct and distinctly, objectively describe the sub-
jective certainty, but do not account for or justify it. When we distrust our memory, wo
are aware of our own distrust — we are clearly and perfectly certain that we do not positively
remember. But as soon as we do remember, we not only know that we are confident, but wc
know that that concerning which we are thus confident was indeed a reality.
I 276. REPRESENTATION — THE MEMORY. 303
1 But do we not sometimes offer reasons to satisfy or prove to ourselves that
Do we not offer yfaox we remember must have been a fact ? ' We do often enumerate the
feasons for trust-
ing it 1 circumstances which assure us that we cannot be mistaken, but not as logical
reasons to justify the conclusion that we are in the right, nor as decisive
triteria to distinguish that which is imagined, from that which actually took place. We bring
them up as particulars on which we dwell with attention, for the purpose of recreating a more
complete and vivid picture of the past. In this sense we are said to refresh our memory — as
i witness in court is asked or urged to do, when one or another circumstance is repeated in
tris hearing, or he is left to his own associations to revive the past. We are sometimes said to
verify our memory, but only in this sense : We say, I cannot be mistaken, for it was on such
a day and in such a place, and such a person or persons were present, etc., etc. ; but all this i3
simply our own thinking aloud, as we paint into the mental picture one element after another ;
our certainty all the while becoming more positive. We may indeed urge this number of
remembered particulars as reasons why others should trust our accuracy since our remem-
brance is so full and detailed, but not as grounds or criteria for our own confidence. For this
confidence we can give no other reason than that we find ourselves possessed of and using the
power for this very function, which is, to remember. And yet this act is exercised, as is every
other act of the soul, with unequal energy. Our confidence admits of various degrees, from
the lowest belief of objects indistinctly recalled, to the highest confidence concerning past
scenes vividly and fully reproduced.
§ 276. A more exact and technical description of memory
SiTdefine3?111" wou^ ^e tne following. Memory is a modification of repre-
sentation. It supposes the representative power to be re-
quired in order to furnish the materials, conditions, or objects for itself
to work with or upon, according to the laws of association or sugges-
tion. These objects being furnished, the memory, or the mind in memory,
knows them by an act of recognition. More briefly, representation recalls,
memory recognizes. The soul, in representation, is passive, blind, and
mechanical, proceeding according to fixed and inevitable laws, by methods
or processes which occcur beyond or out of consciousness. The soul, in
memory, on the other hand, is active, intelligent, and rational. The dis-
tinction between representation and memory, so far as our actual expe-
rience is concerned, is rather ideal than real, for representation passes into
memory by an inevitable certainty, through the easiest, the most natural,
and usually the most unnoticed transitions. The laws of representation are
certain, if suffered to act long enough, to bring before the mind those
materials which, when presented, it usually assents to by an act of knowl-
edge or recognition, which is memory.
The psychologists of the associational school provide for only half the process— that of
representation. The recognition they attempt to explain, but unsuccessfully, by the chem-
istry of association — i. e.y by the union or blending of a present with a past mental state.
Representation and memory may, however, with propriety and advantage, be ideally con-
sidered apart. At times they are really separate. Objects may be represented, but not
recognized, through haste, or the diversion of the attention, or some unexplained withholding
of the act of knowledge.
304 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 278.
§ 277. Representation, conceived apart from memory, may
thePSnefeni°<Kit begin with a mental image, and by the laws of its own
activity present another, and still another, till all at once the
intelligence asserts, ' That one now presented I have perceived or known
before. ' Or the object may be material, and first perceived by the senses.
In such a case, representation, at once supplies a completing image or
thought, and memory pronounces, ■ This very object have I perceived
before.' According as the occasion to memory is a mental or a perceived
object, do the phenomena of memory differ.
Memory, on the other hand, as distinguished from represen-
fiecond^ilment16 tati°nj *s an act °f knowledge. To know, requires objects,
and the discernment of their relations. The different kinds
or modes of knowledge differ from one another both in the objects and
relations known (§ 51). The conditions or objects of memory are pecu-
liar, in that, as has just been explained, representation presents or suggests
more or fewer of them. The relations under which they are discerned are,
as we have shown at length, those of previous apprehension by myself in
some determinate state of knowledge or feeling, at some previous time,
and in some particular place. The act of knowledge, while it is thus dis-
tinguished from other acts of knowledge by its objects and relations, is,
however, like them, in that its objects and relations are realities, and its
own subjective condition is certainty (§ 48).
8 278. But while we thus distinguish in an ideal way, and
The spontaneous " . . -,-,•■,
and intentional by abstraction, the passive and the active element, both must
memory. V ■ ' • ..... ■, ■,•■,-,
be taken into consideration in order to explain the phenomena
of memory ; for, in these phenomena, each of these elements modifies the
other, and both appear in the activities and products of this most nimble
and subtle agency of the soul. The two are related in memory somewhat
as sensation proper and perception proper are combined in the acts of
sense-perception — the one is inversely as the other. In certain acts and
powers of memory, the passive or representational element is prominent
and conspicuous ; in others, the active and rational is most apparent. Ac-
cording to this feature, we distinguish the memory as spontaneous and
intentional. In spontaneous memory, the object remembered, spontaneous-
ly occurs to the mind. In intentional memory it is distinctly sought after
until it is found. In spontaneous memory, the representative faculty is
prominent, and acts according to its own appropriate laws, while the intel-
ligence waits only to give its recognition to what is presented to its atten-
tion. In intentional memory, the intelligence is active, being distinctly
aware that some object has been previously known, to recall which it sum-
mons the energies of the representative power according to its necessary
laws. The two kinds of memory may be advantageously considered apart.
The distinction of these two kinds of memory is so obvious, and is so readily observed,
that it is not at all surprising that separate terms for the two have been employed in common
§280. [REPRESENTATION. THE MEMORY. 305
life, and are found in many languages. The Greeks have /luWjjlo? and b.v6.fxvr\<Tis ; the Latins,
memoria and recordatio (cf. Cic. de Prov. 43) ; the English, memory and recollection. It is.
of course, not pretended — and ought not to be expected — that these terms are always used
with precision, or that the two are not often interchanged. The existence of two such terms,
each with its appropriate shade of meaning, can, however, only be accounted for by the fact
that the human consciousness has observed the differences explained.
§ 279. In the spontaneous memory, there are natural apti-
The spontaneous tudes and disabilities, which can only be referred to some
memory.
original difference of the mental constitution, which is prop-
erly called a strength or weakness of the original powers. It is almost
superfluous to repeat what has been abundantly explained, that such apti-
tudes and disabilities do not pertain exclusively to the representative
energy as such, but run through the whole circle of the intellectual and
emotional activities and capacities.
That such original differences do exist, is an unquestioned fact. For example : one per-
son hears a series of unconnected names recited, and can repeat them all in the precise order
in which they were uttered, while another can recall only now and then one. The eye of
another runs down a column of figures, and he can copy the whole from memory, while his
companion can scarcely recall a single one of the whole. One individual can learn a page of
prose or poetry simply by reading or hearing it read but once, while another can with diffi-
culty repeat correctly a single line or sentence. The power to perform long and intricate
mathematical calculations in the head, which, as exhibited by some very young persons, like
Zerah Colburn, is looked on as a miracle of genius, and hailed as a sign of extraordinary
promise, depends chiefly on the capacity to hold and recall at pleasure the results of previous
processes, so that they stand depicted before the mind's eye as though they were written or
drawn upon a slate or blackboard. Now and then a rare scholar is met with, who from
infancy has possessed the gift of retaining, so as to recall, every date, name, and separate fact
which he has ever learned — upon whose mind, in short, every object that has ever been,
acquired has left its transcript in a vivid and abiding picture.
On<nnai differ- § ^80. That these differences are natural, is manifest from
ences in the fjhig, that they cannot be remedied by any effort or art. No
spontaneous ' J > . .
memory. discipline of the attention, and no determination of the will,
can enable one who is strikingly deficient, to acquire the power of this sim-
ple and effortless memory. That the defect lies in some original inca-
pacity, or some ineradicable habit to fix the attention with interest upon
the objects to be recalled, and not upon the power of representation, is
confirmed by observation upon cases of this kind, as well as by the gen-
eral law of the workings of the representative power. That the strength
or weakness in this kind of memory is not owing to the. physical strength
or weakness of the organs of sense, but to the mental energy and the
moral direction with which these physical instruments are applied, is abun-
dantly manifest. Both these are, however, greatly affected by a normal
and harmonized organization and healthy activity of the body, as well as
by the coolness and serenity of the temper, according to laws which will be
explained hereafter. After making the utmost allowance for the influence
20
306 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §282.
of temperament, health, and circumstances of education and development,
we are forced to the conclusion that there is a difference in the original
endowments of the soul in respect to the force of its action upon single
objects, as wTell as in the reach or range of the relations which it can dis-
cern with effect and recall with success. Analogous to differences in the
spontaneous memory — if, indeed, they are not examples of it — are the
varying capacities to recall a musical air so as to repeat it, or to revive the
image of the voice or manners of another so as to imitate them.
The relations which are employed in the natural memory are most conspicu-
The relations ously those of simple contiguity and succession. All memory begins with
peculiar to it. these relations, because our earliest energies and acquisitions commence with
objects of this kind. The strength and range of the memory of facts is more
obvious when it is seen as the memory of separate things, than as the memory of their higher
relations. The earliest development of this power gives us the most striking exhibitions of
the presence or absence of extraordinary natural gifts. In other words, there is a natural
memory of space and of time, or, as we may say in a somewhat narrow sense, there is a natu-
ral memory of the eye and of the ear. Using these terms, we observe that in some persons
the memory of the eye, while in others the memory of the ear, is conspicuous. Those who are
remarkable for the memory of the eye, are such as can readily form and distinctly revive men-
tal pictures of objects in their spatial relations, as form, relative position, outline, and grouping,
as also of gradations and contrasts of color. Such persons can readily picture in the mind
the details of the front or facade of a building, the outline and filling in of some remarkable
tree, the features of the face of an acquaintance or friend, the page of a book as presented to
the eye. Those who are distinguished for the memory of the ear, or of time, can recall
successions of sounds — if they have a musical ear, of musical notes— strings of names, or
words when connected in significant sentences. They can repeat dates of uninteresting
events, can retail long stories such as make up the gossip of a neighborhood, or the minutiae
of the historic chronicler. Superiority in the one kind of memory is not believed to be usually
accompanied by superiority in the other.
§ 281. A good spontaneous memory, or, as it is often called, a good memory
The value of a for facts an{j dates, is generally and correctly regarded rather as a great intel-
good spontane- >& j jo o
ous memory. lectual convenience, than as a decisive indication of intellectual power. It is
doubtless true, that many persons are distinguished by natural memory, who
are inferior in capacity for discrimination, judgment, and reasoning. It has become a com-
mon observation, Great memory, little common sense. In such cases, the power of discern-
ing the higher relations may be either originally deficient, or it may be neglected in conse-
quence of the predominant use of the power to apprehend, and, of course, to recall objects in
the relations that are most obvious. A very energetic mind may be very limited in its appre-
hensions, and will, of course, be energetic though limited in its memory. It is noticeable, also;
that persons who become eminent in those achievements which are proper to the higher intel-
lectual powers and relations, are in early life usually distinguished for the strength and reach
of the memory of the eye and the ear. In many such cases extraordinary powers of this sort are
observed in the person's own experience gradually to be diminished, till at last they entirely
cease, as the higher powers of the intellect are completely matured, or are more constantly —
in a sense — exclusively exercised. This does not invariably occur. There are striking exam-
ples of persons who seem to forget nothing, neither in age nor in youth.
S 282. There are not a few who carry into the maturity of age, and into the
The combination ° ., . „, „ . , , . V . . ,
of a spontaneous most striking efforts of judgment and reasoning, a memory that is always
nSmory.tl0nal clear> vivid» prompt, exact, and universal— a memory that never forgets a
name, or loses a date, or is at fault in its recital of facts. Such are the men
§284.
REPRESENTATION. THE MEMORY.
30?
of universal knowledge, at least in their own department of study and research, like Scaligei
tn ancient learning and criticism, Pascal, " that prodigy of parts," Niebuhr in history ana
statistics, A. von Humboldt in physics both celestial and terrestrial, Eitter in geography,
Goethe in literature and art. The reason that in these exempt cases the higher or intellectual
memory does not displace the lower, is that the employments or studies of the individual
require him to be conversant with details as well as with their thought-relations, with facts as
well as with principles. Hence, the higher memory aids rather than hinders the lower ; the
acquisitions of the quick eye and ear being fastened and fixed by the secondary processes of
reflex thought.
§ 283. The phenomena of the so-called intentional or volim-
Smo^dSned1 tary memory next require our attention. They are charac-
terized by this one general feature, that the objects remem-
bered, instead of occurring to the mind unsought, are sought for by a con-
scious effort or act. ' But how can this be possible ? The very state-
ment involves a contradiction in language and an impossibility in fact. If
the mind seeks, intending to find or recover an object lost, then it already
knows what it see,ks for. In other words, the mind must already have
remembered, in order to be put upon the act of endeavoring to recall.' In
reply and explanation, we observe that, if every object remembered were
in all cases remembered with equal fulness and vividness, then the objec-
tion would hold. If, in order to remember at all, the mind must recall
with equal energy and success all which, in the nature of the case, is
capable of being reproduced, then 'to intend to remember5 would be
plainly precluded by our ' having already remembered.' But this is by no
means true. The object remembered may be considered as an object —
whether object-object or subject-object is immaterial — out of all conscious
relation to the mind viewing or caring for it, or an object in such relation.
Taken in the first sense, the object is capable of being recalled vaguely in its
The object general outlines, and confusedly in its details, or it can stand out before the
akeady. eye of the mind with the sharpest outline, and inclose a perfect picture of
distinct minutice. We can recall a house-front, a pictured landscape, a human
face, merely as a cloudlike form, through which scarcely a single distinguishable point is visi-
ble, or sharp and definite in outline and full and distinct in detail. Intentional memory is
possible whenever the mind can begin with this vague object, and, knowing that it has known
it as a reality, can hold it to its attention, till, under the laws of representation, the whole
emerges to conscious apprehension in every point, line, and color, and is remembered as real.
. § 284. But the object of memory is more appropriately the
relation to the obiect in some relation to the previous activitv of the soul
knowing mind. . " . -1- . J
m some given place and at some given time. This more
complex object admits also of every variety and degree, from the lowest
up to the highest conceivable fulness and freshness. This, of course, pro-
vides for the possibility that the mind should, in its acts of recovery, go
through all the intermediate steps of effort and intention, till the whole
object, as objective and subjective, is fully represented and recognized.
We may begin with some faint recognition of the object properly so-
308 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §285.
called, and of the mind's own previous state with respect to it. We are
m some sense certain that we have known something of the object. It
may be the names in order of the Sovereigns of Great Britain, or of the
Presidents of the United States, the date of Magna Charta, or of the
peace of Westphalia ; or it may be we have charged our minds with a
number of acts to perform, as certain visits to make, or sundry commis-
sions to execute, and we can recall all but one, or perhaps two. The sense
of deficiency may be a rational or logical inference that we must have
known these facts, or it may be an undefined certainty that something is
wanting to complete the whole which we once apprehended, or it may be
some more or less distinct recall and recognition of our own state when
apprehending the object, now vaguely or totally unrecalled.
In recovering; the whole, we may begin with that which is eminently obiec-
Several ways of _ & „. . , ,.,.-, . .
recovering the tive. We may set on with some object which we are sure, in our previous
object sought knowie(jge> had gome relation to that which we seek — as the dates of some
events that occurred before or after the one which we look for, the names
which we have learned in connection with the one required ; and we may dwell upon these till
the date or name required occurs to the mind, and we recognize it with welcome. Or we may
begin with the subjective element. We may recall ourselves in the act of being charged with
the commissions — where we were, what we were doing, of what we were thinking, how we were
feeling, — till, by this means, the missing element reappears to make our recognition complete.
§ 285. It has already been asserted, that in the intentional
The active eic- memory the active element is prominent. This is true. But
inent prominent. •> ^ x
it happens, from this very circumstance, that the passive ele-
ment is thereby brought into more conspicuous and striking contrast.
Indeed, it is often when we are straining our active energies to the utmost
to recall, that the power of passive representation, or of spontaneous sug-
gestion, seems to delight to make itself felt, and to assert its independent
energy. It would seem to delight to tantalize us by the wantonness of its
caprices, as now it flashes those very thoughts upon our mental vision
which we are most desirous to hide out of sight, and then as provokingly
hides those which we are most desirous to uncover. At one time we are
disappointed by a strange and unaccountable forgetfulness of the most
familiar objects ; at another, we are surprised by the appositeness and the
affluence of unexpected thoughts.
The sole and single function which the mind, as active, can exert, is to apply
Must avail itself the force of its attention to the object or objects which it is certain have
of the passive reference to that which is sought for. To these only have we access. These
element. , _ . , , , .
only we have at our command. Energetic and prolonged attention is all
which the mind can do at the moment of remembering. It may, indeed, create, compare,
infer, etc., and in these ways relieve and assist its attention ; but so far as any function proper
to simple memory is concerned, it can do nothing more than to hold the object which is in part
recovered hard home to the attention, and force the passive soul to represent more of the
unknown. We say, this is all which it can do at the moment of remembering ; for in the origi.
§287. REPRESENTATION. — THE MEMORY. 30?
nal act of acquiring or observing, it can do very much toward securing the ready and
spontaneous suggestion of the objects of its knowledge when they are required, and to facili«
tate the activity of the mind in bringing them forth from their hiding-place. This brings us to
another class of the facts and laws of the memory, viz., those which relate to the power of
retention.
§ 286. Memory is sometimes defined as exclusively the power
Aj^ory as the ^o retain, or the conservative faculty. So Hamilton treats it,
oower to retain. ' .
and exalts this supposed power into a separate faculty co-
ordinate with the power to reproduce and the power to represent. The
three are then made equal with the leading faculties of the intellect, as
the powers to perceive, to reason, and to judge. But when we inquire for
the definition or statement of the function which this so-called retentive
faculty performs, we find that no function of the sort is known to con-
sciousness. Indeed, it is conceded by Hamilton, that whatever is done by
this faculty is performed unconsciously. We observe still further, that, so
far as we are conscious or have reason to infer, there is no proper act or
function at all which can be appropriately called the act or function of
retention. What we mean when we speak of preserving or retaining an
object in the memory, is that the object in question which has previously
been known or thought of, can be represented again to the mind, either
spontaneously or as the result of an effort, and can then be recognized.
No one holds that, during the interval, the mind acts upon the object, or with respect to
it. It does not exert itself to hold it, or concern itself with it in the least. The expression,
to retain, is purely metaphorical, and simply carries the thoughts over the period that inter-
venes between the moment when it was first apprehended, and the moment when it is known
a second time. As Locke pertinently and truly observes, " This laying up of our ideas in the
repository of the memory signifies no more but this, that the mind has a power, in many
cases, to revive perceptions which it has once had, with this additional perception annexed to
them, that it has had them before. And in this sense it is that our ideas are said to be in our
memories, when, indeed, they are actually nowhere ; but only there is an ability in the mind,
when it will, to revive them again," etc., (B. it c. x. § 2).
§ 287. The whole of the so-called power to retain is provided and accounted
The power to re- for under the head of the conditions and laws of representation. We need
counted for. &°~ only assert here that the objects said to be retained are only metaphorically
spoken of as preserved in some repository or hiding-place, in drawers, pigeon-
holes, or other compartments. Nor can the doctrine be maintained, that in the act of original
acquisition the fibres of the brain are disposed in a certain position, which they retain, or at
least retain the tendency to reassume. Nor can it be proved, as the followers of Herbart con-
tend, that each object as apprehended, or the state of mind as excited to action by the object,
is retained ever afterward in a condition of tension, which, on a fit occasion, springs forth
into the presence of the conscious spirit. Now, if all these representations are figurative or
metaphorical, the power to retain, or the doctrine of a retentive facult* must be purely figu-
rative also ; the fact which it describes being merely that under certairrconditions, and in obe-
dience to certain laws, the mind can represent and recognize its previous knowledge. The
mind that can do this in regard to the greatest number of objects, after the lapse of the long-
est time, is said to have the most retentive memory. To preserve, or retain, respects both
these points — the number of objects, and the interval of time which may have elapsed.
310 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 289,
Cicero (De Oratore, i. 5), Plato, and others, have compared the mind, in preserving -what
Fio-urafTS Ian- it had known, to a tahlet on which characters were impressed or engraved. Notwithstand-
euage cor.cern- ing the cautious and accurate definition of Locke which we have cited, we find him, in
■ng the memory, the same chapter, indulging in such language as this : " The pictures drawn in our mind
are laid in fading colors, and, if not sometimes refreshed, vanish and disappear." ....
En some, it [the mind] retains the characters drawn on it like marhle ; in others like freestone ; and in others,
little better than sand."' .... "We oftentimes find a disease quite strip the mind of all its ideas, and the
flames of a fever in a few days calcine all those images to dust and confusion, which seemed to be as lasting
as if graved in marble." Again, the ideas are, "very often roused and tumbled out of their dark cells into
open daylight by some turbulent and tempestuous passion." Hamilton justly observes, " that of all these
sensible resemblances, none is so ingenious as that of Gassendi to the folds of a piece of paper or cloth. * Con-
cipi charta valeat plicarum innumerabilium, inconfusarumque, et juxta suos ordines, suas series, repeten-
darum capax. Scilicet ubi unam seriem subtilissimarum induxerimus, superinducere licet alias, quae
primam refringant transversum, et in omnem obliquitatem; sed ita tamen, ut, dum novae plicae, plicarumque
series superinducuntur priores omnes non modo remaneant, verum etiam possint facili negotio excitari,
redire, apparere, quatenus una plica arrepta, ceterae, quae in eadem serie quadam quasi sponte sequantur.' "
Gassendi, Physica, sec. iii., lib. 8, ch. 3. But Hamilton does not notice wherein the truth and ingenuity of
the resemblance mainly lies, viz., the circumstance that the mind, like the cloth, retains nothing but the
capacity to assume the same folds and in the same combination and order which it had originally taken.
8 288. We observe here, that as the goodness of the mem-
The ready and ° . ,°
the tenacious ory may respect it as spontaneous or intentional ; so we de-
memory. ., . . , , t . , ,
scribe it in the one case as ready, and in the other as tena-
cious. The one does not exclude the other. If a person is able to recall
every object that is required at once, without effort or delay, his memory
is called ready ; but it is not necessarily implied thereby that he is de-
ficient in the capacity to retain, but only that he is quick and apt to recall.
On the other hand, when one is slow to recall, and yet sure to do so by
the application of an effort of attention if sufficient time is allowed, his
memory is tenacious ; by which is intended only that the object is certain
to be recovered — not that there is a special capacity to retain, which may
be possessed in eminent measure, to which may or may not be added
another special capacity to recall.
It frequently happens, indeed, that a person may have a very ready memory, which is at
the same time not tenacious ; that is, his memory may operate very quickly within a short
time, and then forget altogther. It has also been observed, that the susceptible temperament
and active nature which qualifies a person readily to recall whatever remembrances are within
his possession, is usually not consistent with the exercise of those mental habits which are best
adapted to fix remembrances the longest, nor of that patient attention which is sure to bring
them back. Hence the inference, that a ready memory cannot also be tenacious. But the
examples are very numerous, on the one hand, of persons in whom both these characteristics
are most happily and wonderfully combined. To do full justice to these differences, we need
to consider the varieties of memory (§ 296).
§ 289. The power to retain, in the sense explained, implies
Forgetfuiness. the power to lose, in the same sense ; the capacity to remem-
ber, suggests that there is the liability to forget. The fact
that we do forget, most men will not venture to question or deny. It is
not, however, easy to explain why we forget, or to detail the process
by which we lose an acquisition beyond recall. In one aspect of the case,
it would seem .that we ought never to remember — that the mind might be
supposed to be limited to the contemplation of the new objects which the
§290. EEPRESENTATION. — THE MEMORY. 3.11
preservative power can bring before it. But when we have become
acquainted with the possibility and the conditions of representation, it
would seem that we ought to forget nothing, but that it must always be
within the reach of every related thought to bring back all its correlates.
4 moment's reflection, however, must convince us that, were it possible
for us to recall every object, the recall could not take place in fact, simply
for want of time. To recall the acquisitions of a few years, would re-
quire as long a time as to make the original acquirement, even if to repre-
sent were our sole occupation ; to say nothing of the well-known fact that,
to recall in detail under the conditions of association, is a slower process
than to acquire under the conditions of sense and consciousness. But it is
not solely for lack of time or opportunity that we do not recall. Often, when
both are furnished, the related thoughts do not spontaneously present them-
selves. Often they will not respond when we call them ever so earnestly.
The phrase to forget is variously employed — sometimes positively, at others
Degrees and va- comparatively ; now absolutely, and then relatively ; or, as Stiedenroth has
fulness.0 °rSG " i*> ' Forgetting admits of several degrees, or stadia. The first is a momen-
tary displacement of an object apprehended which is yet certain to spring
back as soon as the object displacing it is withdrawn. The second is a comparative with-
drawal of the attention, as when we divert our mind from a painful sensation, or, as we say,
forget it, in labor or play. The third is when an object will not present itself spontaneously,
but we must bethink ourselves in order to recover it. The fourth is when we bethink our-
selves in vain. The fifth is when it has vanished for so long a time that we question whether
we can by any effort bring it back. The sixth, when we conclude that it is absolutely certain
that we shall never recall it again ' {Psychologies Berlin, 1824, p. 82).
§ 290. It is questioned by many whether this absolute for-
Sinera^oSS? getfumess is possible — whether, at least, we are authorized
to affirm that the soul can lose beyond recovery any thing
which it has known. It is certain that knowledge which has remained out
of sight for a long period has often been suddenly recovered. In the
excitement of sickness or delirium, in moments of terror or joy, events
that had been long unthought of have thronged in upon the memory with
the vividness of recent occurrences. A language that had been disused
for years, and- supposed to be entirely forgotten, has come back to the-
tongue when the powers were weakened by disease and seemed to be
returning to the simplicity of second childhood. Prayers and hymns, the
lessons of earliest infancy, though forgotten for all the life since, are re-
peated at such times fluently and correctly. Even acquisitions that were
the least likely to be remembered, and which, previously, were never known
or suspected to have been made, come up as though the soul were inspired
to receive strange revelations of its capacities and acquirements.
Numerous examples of all these classes of facts have occurred within the
of the recovery observation of the curious, and not a few are recorded in history. The well.
toowledle**611 known and often-quoted story, which was originally published by Coleridge
in his Biographia Literaria, is in substance as follows : A servant-girl in
312 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §291.
Germany was very ill of nervous fever accompanied with violent delirium. In her excited
ravings, she recited long passages from classical and rabbinical writers, which excited the won.
der and even terror of all who heard them, the most of whom thought her inspired by a good
or evil spirit. Some of the passages which were written down were found to correspond with
literal extracts from learned books. When inquiries were made concerning the history of hei
life, it was found that, several years before, she had lived in the family of an old and learned
pastor in the country, who was in the habit of reading aloud favorite passages from the very
writers in whose works these extracts were discovered. These sounds, to her unintelligible,
were so distinctly impressed upon her memory, that, under the excitement of delirious fever,
they were reproduced to her mind and uttered by her tongue.
Kev. Timothy Flint, in his Recollections, records of himself, that when prostrate by malarious
fever, he repeated aloud long passages from Virgil and Homer which he had never formally com-
mitted to memory, and of which, both before and after his illness, he could repeat scarcely a line.
Dr. Rush, in his Medical Inquiries, says that he once attended an Italian, who died m New
York of yellow fever, who at first spoke English, at a later period of his illness French, and,
when near his end, Italian only. He records also that he was informed by a Lutheran clergy-
man, that old German immigrants whom he attended in their last illness, often prayed in then-
native tongue, though some of them, he was certain, had not spoken it for many years.
A favorite pupil of the writer, the son of a missionary in Syria, who had spent much of his
life in this country, died of yellow fever, and spoke in Arabic — an almost forgotten language —
during his last hours.
Dr. Abercrombie tells us that a boy, at the age of four years, received an injury upon the
head which made the operation of trepanning necessary. During the operation he was ap-
parently in an unconscious stupor ; and after his recovery, it was never recalled to his recollec-
tion, till he was fifteen years old, when, in a delirium occasioned by a fever, he gave to his
mother a precise account of the whole transaction, describing the persons who were present,
their dress, etc., etc., to the minutest particular.
- 8 291. Facts like these illustrate the intimate connection of
Dependence of «
the t£elb diy ^e bodily condition with the phenomena of memory, of
condition. which a partial explanation has already been given (§ 244).
They confirm two positions, to which daily experience and observation
both testify. The first is, that the extent and reach of our memory is
.greatly affected by our bodily condition at the time when we acquire.
Every object which we apprehend, when in a certain condition of health,
we can afterward recall, and this we can do as readily and as easily as we
breathe. All the impressions that are received by the soul when thus
invigorated by healthful excitement, are spontaneously given back when
required. On other occasions, when we are wearied by labor, exhausted
by watching, or prostrated by pain, however earnestly we may desire to
fix an object in the mind, we can with difficulty secure so as to hold the
slightest fragment. The book which we read when in such a mood, the
conversation in which we take part, the incidents which happen, become
almost a blank to us when we seek to recover them.
It is in place here to notice the circumstance, that certain parts of the day,
?nPeth^enseason and, with some persons, certain seasons of the year, are most favorable to the
the da 6 timG °f successful acquisition of possessions for the memory. In the evening, and
especially late at night, the attention may seem to be as intently fixed upon
§293.
REPRESENTATION. THE MEMORY.
313
the objects which are to be retained, as in the morning, and the intellectual force may appeal
to be more energetic. There is often, however, an accompanying over-excitement of tht
nervous system, a fever of the brain, which either distracts the attention, or, if it seems to fh
it for the instant with greater energy, hurries it so rapidly from one object to another, as not
to allow that serene and continuous mental effort which is required for successful retention.
Sometimes it happens that the acquisitions of the previous evening, which seemed to be so
distinct and promised to be so permanent, have well-nigh vanished in the morning, and require
to be reviewed to be made useful or sure. It is easy to see how, after the analogies furnished
by these phenomena, can be explained the frequently evanescent character of the acquisitions
which are made under the influence of wine or opium, as also the fact that the men of the
strongest memories have often been either water-drinkers, or men of strong heads, not easily
disturbed by stimulants.
_ 8 292. The second position is, that, whether we can recall
Dependence on o *- ' '
the bod^in^the wnat we mav ^e sa^ to nave acquired, depends also very
act of recalling, largely — at times altogether — upon the bodily condition at the
moment of our desire or effort to remember. Under the inspiration of
joyous health or the stimulus of exciting disease, all that we have ever
experienced, witnessed, or learned, comes back to us as if a good genius
were pouring forth at our bidding all that we need or desire to recall.
Again, in seasons of extreme weakness, we cannot recover the most
familiar names, incidents, or dates, and our most common knowledge
refuses to serve us. Persons who have fallen from a height, or have but
just escaped death by drowning, tell us of the wonderful activity of the
memory during the brief period of consciousness — of the incredible num-
ber of persons and events which they recalled, and the comprehensive sweep
of the eye, by which, as at a glance, they revived the pictured memories
of their life.
It is pertinent here to refer to the many cases of the sudden and almost entire
Sudden loss of loss of memory, some of which are as striking as those of its development to
memory. unwonted energy. A lady of superior endowments and culture was for sev-
eral days exposed to suffering and fear, in a storm at sea which terminated in
the wreck of the vessel. A severe and protracted illness was the consequence, from which
she slowly recovered. After her apparent restoration to complete health, it was found that the
best part of her acquired knowledge was gone, and it was never afterward recovered. An
attack of apoplexy has been said to efface all remembrance of the events of some definite
period of the life. Sometimes paralysis greatly weakens the capacity to remember names and
dates. Kev. William Tennent, a distinguished American clergyman, while preparing for col-
lege, was taken sick, and was, for a time, supposed to be dead. During his recovery, it was
found that he had lost all that he had previously learned, and even his memory of the alpha-
bet. On a sudden he complained of a violent pain in the head, and instantly found himself
restored to his normal condition, and the master of all that he had previously known.
§ 293. Both classes of facts — those which illustrate the
now these cases dependence on certain bodily conditions of both the power
aio explained. -1 j r
to acquire with effect the materials for the memory, and the
power to recover them with ease — can be accounted for by the general
views already expressed. The varying condition of the body through the
314 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §294.
several sensations of which it is the occasion, enters into the experiences
of consciousness, and furnishes a most important element in them all. It
is the constant background on which all the mental activities are pro-
jected, the never-failing setting with which every one of them must be
accompanied. When these sensations are of a certain description, they are
the normal and favoring accessories of the other actings of the soul ; helping,
not hindering, the exertion of the higher energies, and presenting objects
with which these are all happily united. If they are abnormal, disturbed,
or unpleasant, the mind is so absorbed or distracted by the presence of
these obtrusive sensations, that it has little energy to spare for other ob-
jects, and no capacity to steady the attention upon them. In these ways we
may suppose certain bodily states to be unfavorable to successful acquisition.
Again, the bodily condition may also present sensations which so far
disturb and distract the attention, as to allow no time for the passive meui
ory to respond to any call ; may so hurry the mind from one object oJ
present sense-experience to another, as to leave no opportunity for tiro
representing power to thrust iu a single mental image ; or, on the other
hand, these sensations may be so utterly dissimilar to any which have
been before experienced, as to suggest no image of the past. Or again,
this complex of sensations may be most favorable to the easy and almost
exclusive action of the passive or spontaneous memory, and may be so
akin to the states which we would recall, as to be all luminous and living
with objects that suggest those which we welcome or seek after. In such
cases, the body itself becomes an ethereal minister to the soul — almost
an airy vehicle of spiritual life and energy.
To the question, whether the circumstances of the soul can ever so far be
May all knowl- changed as to empower it to recover all the past, the analogies suggested by
ered? these facts would lead us to reply: (1.) Under no circumstances whatever
can it be supposed that the soul shall recover what it has not in some sense
made its own by the energetic action of its attentive consideration. That is not a proper
object of memory to the soul, which has not been taken up into its life by its efficient acqui-
sition. (2.) It is supposable that the conditions might be furnished of recalling all the past thus
defined, under the actings of laws which are well known to us. We have only to suppose that a
vehicle or subject of the proper psychical experiences — call them sensations, if you will, and the
occasion of them a new body — should be furnished, and these would of themselves give bad*,
every element of past acquisition or experience to which they are attached.
8 294. With the progress and development of the powers
Varieties of
memory ; how and activities of the soul, the memory itself advances through
separate stages, each of which prepares the way for that
which follows, and occupies the place of its natural and logical condition.
The memory of the infant differs from the memory of the child ; the mem-
ory of the child differs from that of the youth ; the memory of the man,
in each of the several stages of active life, differs from that in the stage
which succeeds it. In general, the memory of the person in active life
§296. EEPEESENTATION. THE MEMOEY. 315
differs from the memory of old age. This must necessarily follow from
the very nature of memory when considered as to the materials on which it
works, and the laws by which it acts. The memory of an individual can
rise no higher than the intellectual and emotional life which furnish the
objects which it has to recall. It can take no other direction than that
which is indicated by the relations and connections in which these objects
are habitually combined. As these objects and relations stand to all men
in a certain common order of preparation and evolution, there must con-
sequently be a certain similarity in the order of the stages through which
the memory of all is evolved. As there are also special classes of objects
and relations that are proper to different classes of men, arising from their
peculiar employments and habits of thinking and feeling, each of these
classes has a memory that is peculiar to itself. The memory of the artist
is very unlike the memory of the mathematician. The memory of the
erudite and disciplined thinker differs greatly in its objects and its laws,
from the memory of the person who has had little culture from reading or
thought. Hence, there exist many clearly distinguishable varieties of
memory, if we make nothing of the fact that every individual must have
a type of memory which arises from those individual habits of thought
and feeling which he can share with no other person.
§ 295. The attention of the infant is at first occupied with the sensible
memory. The world. It sees colors that delight the eye, it hears sounds that captivate the
fency17 °f 1U" ear* *fc *s l°no before it unites these separate percepts into individual
objects, and still longer before it discriminates, by special attention, one
object from another. Later still, it learns to notice with any effect its own inner experiences
and activities. Then, it must learn distinctly to apprehend both object and activity as refer-
able to itself as their agent and subject. It requires still more reflective attention before the
mental activities and the mental objects are arranged as before and after, and the relations of
time can be familiarly applied. The relations of here and there are of still later evolution.
But all these separate elements must be familiarized by attention before an act of memory can
be at all definite and complete, inasmuch as, whatever suggestions of representation there may
be, there can be no proper act of memory till all these elements are recognized.
Even when memory becomes possible to the infant, it is evident that the memory does
not go beyond the attention, whether in respect to the objects which are recalled, or the mode
in which they are viewed. The germinant memory of the infant must be exceedingly limited,
because its materials are very scanty ; the chief force of its intellectual life being expended
in acquiring rather than in recalling. So far as it remembers at all, its memory is passive,
being completely directed and controlled by the persons and things which it encounters, and re-
calling only the objects and feelings which their presence suggests. Intentional memory is as
yet undeveloped, for the infant is the passive child of nature, the stream of its memory running
eide by side with the course of its objective life. The infant remembers, as animals remember,
just that, and only that, which the objects of sense-perception recall to their thoughts. It
does not cut itself off from the objective world even by a reverie. It exercises only the
lowest form of passive representation — that which depends entirely on the sense-perceptions.
§ 296. The acquisition and use of language opens the way for the higher
The memory of memory, though obviously in its first beginnings. The right use of words.
childhood and , .„ , . , ,,.,,,,,
youth. and of short sentences, requires that the child should connect names with
distinctly discerned objects, and that it express its wishes and thoughts bj
316 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 299
short sentences. Both processes imply memory ; but so long as the object perceived, or th«
thought recalled, suggests the word and sentence, the style and range of memory are limited
and low. But by-and-by the child finds that it forgets — that it has not the knowledge which
it once possessed. It cannot recall the right name or phrase which it wishes to use, and
which it knows it has previously spoken. It is impelled by its wishes to recall the forgotten
object, and begins to practise the arts of the intentional, or active memory. But these occa-
sions and efforts are at best so infrequent, and of so little importance, that they train the
intentional memory only to a slight degree. It is by tasks imposed by others directly and
indirectly, that the soul is disciplined to the exercise of this higher memory, and that the
power itself is developed. The child is taught written language. It learns the alphabet and
spelling by the eye, or brief sentences and verses by the ear. To master these tasks, it must
enforce its attention and employ repetition by continuous efforts, and for a longer time than
has been its wont, upon objects which of themselves present few attractions and excite but
little interest. By these efforts the capacity is developed to regulate and direct the spontaneous
memory to special results — by fixing certain objects for recall, by concentrating the attention
on certain objects to the exclusion of others, until they are placed at the service of the soul
Children are charged also with commissions to execute, with services of labor or courtesy which
may not be forgotten, and with endless lessons from books to prepare and repeat.
§ 297. By degrees, this pupil of others becomes his own taskmaster: he
Self-culture of Passes from the lower discipline of the memory, which others enforce, to the
the memory. higher, which he imposes upon himself. The intentional memory, which has
been trained by others, he cultivates for himself. He makes his own pur-
poses ; he proposes his own ideals ; he knows what he must learn in order to accomplish
these purposes and to realize these ideals' ; he appoints to himself his own lessons ; tasks his
own intellect to consider, and his own efforts to retain what he foresees he shall have occasion
to know and to have at command. He must be able to remember this or that, in order to gain
a livelihood, to acquire wealth, to maintain a decent position in society, to attain success or
eminence in his business or profession, to shine in conversation, to achieve reputation or use-
fulness as a writer or speaker. These objects are desirable, and upon the attainment of one
or more the purposes are fixed. Because the end is desired, the means are first tolerated and
then loved, till the acquisition of the driest details and the most uninteresting particulars has
become the habit of the man ; and the memory can be applied and directed to the possession
of any species of knowledge which is necessary for its chosen purposes. In passing from
childhood through youth to early manhood, every person is forced to become familiar with
those objects and relations which have a necessary or intimate relation to his occupations and
duties. According as this training of his attention is more or less complete, so does hia
memory become more or less perfectly subject to his control, and from the passive spontaneity
of early life passes into the active energy of mature years.
§ 298. This memory of manhood is also characterized by the predominance
The memory of of thought-relations and of rational purposes. The spontaneous memory of
manhood. early life is not thereby displaced ; the original aptitudes of the memory of
both eye and ear are not necessarily set aside. They may be rendered more
efficient as they are aided by the new relations with which thought and reason invest their
objects. But just so far as one thinks and acts like a man, just so far will he remember as a
man, and not merely as a child — that is, by the aid of those higher relations which thought
requires, and which definite aims and rational activities necessarily involve. The memory of
the man is not only intentional, but it is also rational.
§ 299. When the man advances from the busy noon toward the quiet
The memory of evemng °f lite, his exclusive interest in the objects which have absorbed hia
old ag?w manhood is relaxed, either through physical infirmity, or the success which
satiates, and perhaps the disappointment which wearies a man with life. Or
it may be, that through the salutary discipline of experience, he reverts to the simpler tastea
§301. EEPEESENTATION. THE MEMOEY. 317
and the purer affections of earlier years, or looks forward to the higher objects which dawn
upon him from the life beyond. The news, the markets, the politics, the literature, the
society that occupied his attention so exclusively, are now less attended to, because they are
less cared for. In place of an intent and absorbed devotedness to the present, there is a more
frequent review of the past. Old scenes are described, old books are read, old companions are
talked of, old stories are repeated. The best energies of the mind are given to these objects,
while the mind scarcely heeds, or with enfeebled interest, the scenes, the persons, and events
that are present. For this reason, recent objects are so readily forgotten, and the singulai
contrast is furnished in the memory peculiar to the aged — most tenacious of objects and
events that occurred longest ago, and readily forgetful, if forgetful at all, of those that were
most recent. ^_
special and indi- § 3^0, Besides those varieties of memory which are com-
viduai varieties mon ^0 a]]_ men m |he successive periods of their life, there
of memory. • r '
are the special peculiarities which result from one's pursuit
or profession. The historian remembers facts and dates ; the philosopher,
principles and laws. The artist remembers landscapes and faces ; the wit
and the story-teller, never forget a successful jest or a capital anecdote.
These habits of memory, as they are called, often grow stronger till they
become fixed beyond the power of change. They often result in a one-
sidedness of intellectual character that may be exaggerated into a serious
and unnatural defect. Persons distinguished for great intellectual power
in certain directions, very often complain of a serious defect of memory
which they cannot account for. • Such one-sided habits and defects are not
peculiar to the memory only, but pertain equally to all the activities of
the soul. The condition of memory is energy in the original activities ;
these involve attention to the objects to be remembered. Attention
springs from an active interest in these objects. This prevailing interest
follows the habits which constitute and express the character.
The reason why, of the same story the historian remembers the facts and dates, the
philosopher the principle or the moral, and the wit its humor, is that each is prepared, by
his previous habits, to be intent upon and attent to a special class of objects. Each selects
out of this common material the elements for which he has affinity, and, as by the force of an
instinct, quietly appropriates this, and this only. He finds what he seeks, and seeks what he
finds ; and what he seeks and finds, he retains and recalls. Man cannot be said to have a
memory so much as to repeat in his memory the life which he actually lives.
The growing feebleness or failure of memory, by which many are disturbed, is often only
an indication of a change in the direction of the intellectual activities incident to the prog-
ress of years, or to a change in one's pursuits or studies, or to a revolution in one's tastes and
character.
varieties of §301. We return again to the fact that these varieties of
oTTbJcts^aSd memory are not only distinguished by the character of the
their relations, objects remembered, but also by the method and relations
under which they are recalled. The things which the child remembers
not only differ from those which an older person recalls, but they are
recalled in a child's order, and by the relations which are proper to a
child. The same is true of the devotee to any study or pursuit so far aa
318 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §302.
special intellectual habits are induced by such a study or employment.
When the child recalls to itself or recites to others a series of incidents
of which it has had experience, it depicts the whole, generally in the order
of time, with little selection of materials according to their importance
or their relation to any principle or purpose. The spontaneous memory
of the eye or the ear, reproduces the past solely after the relations of time
or place, with no rearrangement or selection of the same such as would
be suggested by the desire for the clearer apprehension of the' hearer,
or by the bearings of the story upon his intellect or his feelings.
This is very conspicuous in the memory, and especially in the narratives of
the tmd^ci^in- uneducated persons. Thus, Dame Quickly recites the story of her wrongs in
ed miud. the following fashion : " Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet,
sitting in my dolphin chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon
Wednesday in Whitsun-week, when the prince broke thy head for liking his father to a
singing-man of "Windsor ; thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry
me, and make me my lady thy wife " (Henry IV., 2d part, Act ii. scene i. ; cf. S. T. Coleridge,
TJie Friend, Sec. ii. Essay iv.) No finer opportunity is furnished for observing this variety in the
order and method which characterize the memory of different persons, than in listening to the
testimony of different witnesses in a court of justice, concerning the same transaction. One
witness tells a long and rambling story, which follows the order of his own observations in
time, and recites the most trifling accompaniments of place and circumstances. Another
recounts those only which are material to the object for which he gives testimony. In each, can
be observed an order of association peculiar to himself, by which the circumstances suggest
one another, and according to which the details are presented. The laws which prevail in the
memory of each, the presence of the higher or the predominance of the lower relations, are
often in this way strikingly illustrated. The self-possession of the narrator, and his previous
discipline in the art of communication, may have much to do with the method in which the
stories are told ; but the mechanical or the rational memory will show themselves, and cannot
be kept out of view by any arts of speech or force of effrontery.
The memory of § 302> Tne ™e™o*Y of tne J°^mg is usually more ready ;
ofeoide°rUn?rson? *^at of the adult is more tenacious. This is, in part, owing
to the greater physical vivacity of youth, which gives a
character of greater readiness to all its movements. The vivacious old
man is as quick to remember as he is to apprehend or judge ; while the
torpid and phlegmatic child is as slow in his memory he is as in his
reasonings and inferences. The difference, however, is not a difference
of temperament or animal spirits, but has its ground in the character
of the relations which predominate at each of these periods of life, and
which affect the memory as truly as the other functions of the intellect.
Objects that are recalled by the relations of space and time and of obvi-
ous resemblance, present themselves promptly, if they are remembered at
all ; but these relations are, from their very nature, limited to but few
individual objects. Hence, the groups which are connected by such
relations are sooner set aside and forgotten, and are, in their turn, dis-
placed by others. The relations of thought, however, especially those
which are founded on wide-reaching principles or laws, are in their very
§304. REPRESENTATION. — THE MEMORY. 319
nature less obvious. As the mind requires longer time to discern such
relations, so it does not recall single objects as readily as by those rela-
tions which are less general. But, on the other hand, the principles them-
selves are few, and are constantly before the mind. When these are once
mastered, they are illustrated in every fact ; they are exemplified in every
instance. By means of them we can prophesy and construct the future
as well as explain and interpret the past. These few bonds of association,
when they control the memory, give to it perfect security in and command
over its possessions.
It is a beneficent arrangement which provides that the spontaneous and inferior memory,
which is first developed in childhood and youth, should be more quick in its activities, so as
to be readily adjusted to new scenes and new objects, and yet less tenacious, because so much
which it acquires has only a temporary value and application. There is a reason why the higher
memory should be more circumspect and slow, inasmuch as it suits the occasions of life which
imply quiet and deliberate thought, while, at the same time, it is more tenacious, because it
concerns itself with principles and relations, which can never cease to be interesting and use-
ful— which can never be displaced, and can never be exhausted.
The men of uni- § 303. The men of universal memory are those who com-
NUbuhTand bine most happily the ready memory of facts and events
with, the tenacious memory of truths and laws. They are
those whose spontaneous memory is not displaced, but rather aided by the
development of the rational memory which sees in facts the illustrations
of the higher relations of philosophic truth. They are those who enliven
abstract truths by the examples of particular facts, and who give meaning
and dignity to the memory of facts by means of their relations to prin-
ciples. They are those who hold fast the acquisitions of youth and of old
age by the permanence of principles which are as old as the universe and
as new as the latest experiment by which they are verified.
Of the memory of Niebuhr, Prof. C. A. Brandis, of the University of Bonn, who was his intimate
friend, gives the following description ; "A more comprehensive and trustworthy memory, or greater con-
trol over it, can scarcely have been possessed by Joseph Scaliger, and other heroes of mnemonics ; it cer-
tainly was never combined with clearer powers of reflection. Niebuhr was a close observer, and found
some connecting link between all the manifold external and internal perceptions which came before him ;
hence he mastered languages and sciences, signs and the things signified, with equal ease and with such
certainty, that with the mind's eye he saw each in its own individuality, separate from its fellows, and yet
intimately and variously related to them It [his memory] was equally retentive of perceptions and
thoughts, of views and feelings, of sights and sounds ; whatever came within the sphere of his recognition,
took up its due relative position in hia mind with equal certainty and precision." {The Life and Letters
of Barthold George Niebuhr, etc., etc., Appendix.)
'"Tis reported of that prodigy of parts, Monsieur Pascal, that, till the decay of his health had impaired
his memory, he forgot nothing of what he had done, read, or thought in any part of his rational age."
(Locke, Essay, B. ii. c. x. § 9.)
§ 304. The memory of the ancients, if we may believe all the stories which
The memory of are told of the achievements of some of their more distinguished men, sur-
the ancients. passed, in some respects, the average attainments of the moderns. It is not
difficult to believe this to have been true, from what we know of the mem-
ory of those who most resemble them in the circumstances of their lives, and the discipline of
their intellects. Their attention was far less distracted by a variety of objects than is the
320 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §306.
case with the moderns. The facts in science, literature, chronology, and history, which thej
were required to remember were far fewer than those which burden the memory of the modern
scholar. More than all, they relied far less than we do upon Writing, memoranda, and books,
to preserve what they desired to retain. They committed their acquisitions to their own
power to recall them. Conversation and repetition were practised far more generally by them
than by us. What was heard by the ear from the living teacher, was repeated and discoursed
of by his interested scholars, till it became a part of their very being. The oft-repeated chroni-
cle which the patriarch recited to his reverent descendants, was caught and recounted at once
by his hearers. The ode or epic that was chanted by the bard before the entranced assembly,
was sung over again, in parts or as a whole, as soon as he finished it. His exciting words rung
in their ears till they were uttered by their tongues. We can hardly conceive of the strength
and reach of memory in a community in which conversation took the place of writing, and
recitation performed the service of the printing-press, especially if the community consisted of
men of powerful intellects, intense feelings, and energetic wills.
§ 305. The methods of education should be conducted with a distinct recog-
ory should bere- n^on °f tne w*se arrangements of nature in developing and maturing
garded in educa- the memory. In the earlier periods of life the spontaneous memory should
be stimulated and enriched by appropriate studies. The child should learn
stories, verses, poems, facts, and dates, as freely and as accurately as it can be made to respond
to such tasks. During this early and objective period, it should learn as many languages as
is possible in the circumstances, or as is desirable for its future pursuits. Especially should it
learn those languages which can be taught in conversation, or acquired by contact with those
who speak them freely and well. If the elements of the ancient languages are taught so early
in life, they should be taught, so far as in the nature of the case is possible, by similar methods.
But as the higher and rational powers awake to action, every acquisition that has been made
after the lower and more obvious relations, should be secured against loss by recasting it and
relearning it as it were, after the relations which are higher and more philosophical. English
children who learn to speak French, German, or Italian fluently in early life, may lose their
acquisitions almost entirely, unless these are fixed by a grammatical study of these very
languages at a somewhat later period. The large accumulations of facts and dates, as in
geography and history, which are made very early by many carefully-trained children, and
with the greatest ease on their part, are liable to be effaced, and, as it were, swept clean out
from the memory, unless they are secured against loss by reviewing and rearranging them
under the new and higher relations which the development of the reason makes possible.
On the other hand, to anticipate the development of the reflecting powers, by forcing upon the intel-
lect studies which imply and require these capacities, is to commit the double error of misusing the time
which is especially appropriate to simple acquisition, and of constraining the intellect to efforts which are
untimely and unnatural. The modern practice of occupying the minds of children with the reasons of
things, i. c, with laws, principles, etc., in the forms of compends of astronomy, of natural or mental
philosophy, natural theology, etc.— is one that cannot be too earnestly deprecated, or too soon abandoned
by those who would train the mind according to the methods of nature, or adapt its studies and pursuits to
the order in which its powers and functions were intended to be evolved (cf. § 61).
How can the § 306, *^ne cultivation of the memory is a subject which
Svatedl be cul" nas been earnestly discussed by many writers, and is of
practical interest to all those who are bent on self-improve-
ment, or are devoted to the education of others. Many complain of a
general defect of memory. Others are especially sensible of painful
failures in respect to certain classes of objects, as names, dates, facts of
history, sentences or passages from authors familiarly read. The question
§ 306. " REPRESENTATION. THE MEMOET. 321
is often anxiously propounded, How can these general or special defects
be overcome ?
The conclusions which we have reached in respect to the
Fundamental -i i • -i -i
principles and nature and laws oi memory, suggest the only practical rules
which can be attained. These rules may be summed up in
the following comprehensive directions : ' To remember any thing, you
must attend to it ; and in order to attend, you must either find or create
an interest in the objects to be attended to. This interest must, if pos-
sible, be felt in the objects themselves, as directly related to your own
wishes, feelings, and purposes, and not to some remote end on account of
which you desire to make the acquisition.' For this reason, in entering
upon a new study or course of reading, it is often essential to feel that
the knowledge which they will give is necessary for ourselves, so that we
may be eager to satisfy our minds upon the points which are involved, and
may receive what is furnished, with freshness and zest. It should never be
forgotten, that in memory, what is reproduced is not the object as such,
or the object in itself, but the object as apprehended and reacted on by the
soul. In other words, the soul can recall no more than it makes its own —
no more than, in acquiring, it constructs or creates as a spiritual product
by its own activity.
Even the extraordinary feats of the spontaneous memory are chiefly to be accounted for
by the fact that the soul can give its whole energy to words or sounds, as in the memory of
the ear, and to forms and colors, as in that of the eye, and can shape them into wholes by
rapid combination under the relations of time or space. Defects in the power to do either,
whether it is viewed as an original endowment, or as a habit acquired in the very earliest periods
of life, lie chiefly in an incapacity to attend to and connect together sounds or sightSi
Whether it is because the soul is deficient in general energy, or in special sensibility of the
sentient eye or ear, or whether because it has early contracted some untimely habit of
absent-mindedness or abstraction, which withdraws its energy from the objects of sense and
their relations, it is a simple fact, that the man does not remember because he does not attend
to, and by his attention, connect the right objects under these simplest relations. It may be im,
possible completely to overcome such a defect as this by any art or discipline. Repetition is
the specific remedy, because it holds the attention and draws in the wandering and often the
wool-gathering intellect from its aimless rovings. This must be enforced with unsparing rigor.
4 Read every sentence while holding your breath,' says a lively writer ; meaning, by this, Throw
your whole soul into every act. If he had added, Pause when you have finished it, and take
another breath while you review it, he would have explained the whole secret of successful
and permanent acquisition of every kind, whether of facts or their relations. "Were this rule
invariably followed, the mind would act with energy in all that it does, and would also be
detained in every act long enough to receive permanent impressions, whether in the way of
facts or relations. Whatever objects are thus taken up into the mind — or perhaps we should
say, to whatever objects the mind imparts its own living power — cannot easily be forgotten.
The late Sir Thomas Powell Buxton advises his sons in the following golden words-: " What you do
know, know thoroughly. There are few instances in modern times of a rise equal to that of Sir Edward
Sugden. After one of tho Weymouth elections, I was shut up with him in a carriage for twenty-foux
hours. I ventured to ask him, What was the secret of his success; his answer was : 'I resolved, when
beginning to read law, to make every thing I acquired perfectly my own, and never to.go to a socon 1 Uiing.
21
322 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 307.
till I had entirely accomplished the first. Many of my competitors read as much in a day as I read in a
week ; but, at the end of twelve months, my knowledge was as fresh as on the day it was acquired, whilo
theirs had glided away from their recollection.' " (Memoirs of Sir Thomas F. Buxton, chap, xxiv.)
§ 307. Numerous devices have been contrived in order to aid the mind so
^JormnS" to make its aC(luisitions as to secure them against loss, and to bring them
Ics. readily to hand when required. They were not unknown to the ancients, as
is evident from Cicero, De Or. ii. 86-88 ; Ad Herenn. iii. 16-24 ; Quiuct.
Instit. x. 1, 11-26. They all rest upon a common assumption or principle, viz., that it is
possible, by means of arbitrary associations, so to connect what one desires to remember with
a series or scheme of objects, artificially arranged or actually existing, that they can be readily
and certainly suggested to the mind. Some teachers of mnemonics employ a scheme of geo-
metrical figures, as squares or triangles. For examp»e : if a person, in listening to a discourse
or lecture, should, as the speaker proceeds, connect the leading thoughts or divisions with the
panes of glass in a window-sash, or the panels of a door, he would avail himself of the geometrical
method, which addresses the eye, through the space-relations of visible objects. Often these
systems have sought to aid the memory of dates, through the letters of the alphabet ; each
representing some number, and being capable of forming artificial syllables, which can be
readily attached to names of persons or places distinguished in history. For example : you
could fix in your memory the date of Napoleon's birth by such appropriate syllables indicating
the birth and the date together as should form the artificial word NapoleomVam. To the
use of such an expedient it is objected, that, though it might serve in the few cases in which
novelty should lend interest to the effort and the subject-matter, yet the task of modifying
every name and event, and then learning the barbarous terms thus formed, would necessarily
become uninteresting and onerous. To avoid this objection, mnemonic verses and tables have
been furnished for many of the important objects with which every student is expected to be
familiar, as the names of the sovereigns of the great kingdoms and empires, grammatical
paradigms and rules, logical formulae, etc., etc.
A correct estimate of the value of all artificial memory may be summed up
Value of mne- as follows : The natural, as opposed to the artificial memory, depends on the
monies. relations of sense and the relations of thought ; the spontaneous memory of
the eye and the ear availing itself of the obvious conjunctions of objects
which are furnished by space and time, and the rational memory, of those higher combinations
which the rational faculties superinduce upon these lower. So far as the mind is intensified
in the energy of its attention, through the interest which the consideration of either of these
classes of relations excites, so far is the natural memory susceptible of cultivation and im-
provement. The artificial memory proposes to substitute for the natural and necessary rela-
tions under which all objects must present and arrange themselves, an entirely new set of
relations that are purely arbitrary and mechanical, which are devised for no other object, and
excite little or no other interest than that they are to aid us in remembering.
It follows that, if the mind tasks itself to the special effort of considering
Ob' cti ns to 0DJects under these artificial relations, it will give less attention to those which
mhemonias. have a direct and legitimate interest for itself. Its energies, instead of following
in easy obedience the leadings of nature, will be forced to exertions that are
constrained and artificial. Whatever dexterity is acquired by these intellectual gymnastics,
must be gained at the expense of that rhythmical power which always rewards those exertions
in which art follows nature. The wonderful feats of memory which are occasionally adduced
as resulting from the latest new device in mnemonics, are the fruits of much time, labor, and
enthusiasm. Had the same time, labor, and enthusiasm been expended in acquiring knowl-
edge by means of the ordinary appliances,-the acquisitions would have been many times more
valuable for the culture of the powers and the uses of life. Perhaps even the number of facts
recorded in the memory would have been as numerous.
g 308. REPRESENTATION. THE MEMORY. 323
There are occasions when the artificial memory is unquestionably useful. It
Wh • th may serve a &00<* purpose in holding before the mind facts which it is im-
aseful?' portant to remember when neither the facts themselves, nor their relation^
present attractions which are strong enough to fix or hold the attention.
Thus, it is often convenient and sometimes necessary to learn a list of names, a succession
of dates, a system of nomenclature, and the declensions, genders, paradigms, etc., of the worda
of a strange language. To the child, such tasks imply no special difficulty ; the spontaneous
memory of the eye and the ear can master them as easily under one set of relations as
another. But for the man whose intellectual force and interest are preoccupied, it is often
difficult to apply the memory with success to such objects, unless they are arranged in some
novel relations. The artificial memory comes to his aid, and offers the service and assistance
of art to supplement the failing forces of nature ; to reenforce, and, as it were, to renew the
spontaneous memory by novel appliances.
One of the most ingenious and successful examples of the application of artificial memory.
General Bern's ^3 furnished in the plan for studying history and chronology, which was devised by thb
Historical Mne- distinguished Polish General Bern, and adopted in the secondary schools of France. It
monies. has aiso received some favor in this country. Its professed design is to hold the mind
of the learner in active occupation upon each leading event, name, date, etc., so long
that it -will not be easy to forget it. He is also compelled to view each in its relative order and impor-
tance. These objects are accomplished by means of a series of skeleton charts, the several divisions of
which are colored by the pupil himself, after the large chart from which the teacher dictates and lectures ;
each lecture being afterwards recited by the pupil. A thorough course of historical studies pursued after
this method must require much time, frequent repetition, and almost exclusive attention. (Cf. E. P. Pea-
body. Universal History arranged to illustrate Bern's Chart of Chronology, Chap, vii.)
§ 308. But while we concede a certain advantage to the
of°memory. ar ' artificial memory under circumstances like these, we must
still hold, with Coleridge (JBiog. Literaria, chap, vii.), that,
for the ordinary uses of the student, sound logic, a healthy digestion, and a
quiet conscience are the proper conditions or arts of memory.
By sound logic, is, of course, intended a well-balanced and well-
trained intellect, which by original structure and that self-mastery which
training imparts and implies, is capable of fixed attention, clear apprehen-
sion, and excited interest. Without these conditions, a strong and trust-
worthy memory is impossible.
A healthy digestion is also requisite ; for if the digestion is disturbed,
the action of the mind will be distracted by those vague sensations of
depression and discomfort which are inconsistent with that harmonious
interaction of the powers of the whole man, which is indispensable to a
good memory. Even though it happens that persons in this condition are
capable of extraordinary energy in their mental efforts, yet these occasions
are certain to be followed by longer periods of listlessness and depression
which exclude that frequent and comfortable repetition and review of the
knowledge which are quite as essential as energy and interest at the time
of the original acquisition. It is in place here to refer again to the dis-
turbing influence upon the memory of the use of opium and intoxicating
liquors. Both these agents, and all narcotics and stimulants in excess, dis-
turb the normal condition of the sensorium, so as to preclude the steady
324 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §309
attention, the cool and calm judgment, and the quiet reflection which are
essential to a well-working memory.
A clear or quiet conscience is also a prime requisite, for a similar
reason. Indigestion and intoxication of any kind disturb the memory, by
intrusive, uncomfortable and exciting sensations. But the consciousness
of guilt haunts the spirit with disquieting self-reproach, and a vague 01
defined fear of deserved punishment. Feelings of this sort do indeed
often stamp upon the memory certain impressions that are ineffaceable.
But for this very reason it is the more unfitted to attend with interest or
enthusiasm to other objects, and its movements in all directions are be-
numbed or depressed by distraction or constraint.
The entire passage from Coleridge is a summary of valuable truth. " Sound logic, as the habitua
subordination of the individual to tbe species, and of the species to the genus ; a philosophical knowledge
of facts under the relation of cause and effect ; a cheerful and communicative temper, that disposes us to
notice the similarities and contrasts of things, tbat we may be able to illustrate the one by the other ; a
quiet conscience, a condition free from anxieties ; sound health, and above all (as far as relates to passive
remembrance), a healthy digestion ; these are the best— these are the only arts of memory." (Biog.
Lileraria, chap, vii.)
The moral eie- § 3(^* ^ *s na^ral, in this connection, to notice the moral
ments of a good conditions of a good memory. The man who would have a
strong and trustworthy memory, must always be true to it
in his dealings with himself and with other men. He must paint to his own
imagination, with scrupulous fidelity, whatever he has witnessed or expe-
rienced. He must never so yield to the bias of interest or passion, as to
strive to persuade himself, even for a moment, that events were different
from what he knows they actually were. He must seek to repeat to others
the precise words of what he has heard or read, whenever he makes com-
munications by language. Such a moral discipline to internal and external
honesty, both implies and enforces a mental discipline to earnest and wide-
reaching attention—an attention which does complete justice to every
object that comes before it, and which neither slights nor omits any thing
which ought to be brought to view. An intellect that is regulated and
neld to its duties by the tension of such a purpose, will act with the pre-
cision and certainty of clock-work. Its recollections will be trusted by
others, because they are trusted by the person himself, and for the best of
reasons — because he is true to what he remembers.
On the other hand, a person who is false to his fellow-men, will often weaken his
a"°dW ^confound confidence in his own intellect, and may end with an incapacity to distinguish
the memory. falsehood from the truth. What he does not like to remember, he will per-
suade himself did not actually happen, or, at least, not in every particular as
it spontaneously presents itself to his view. At first he dares not deal falsely with the record
by wilful denial. He simply refrains from giving to it an open-eyed and fixed attention, and by
degrees allows in himself careless and inattentive habits of recalling the whole truth. Then fol-
lows, by natural consequence, distrust of his own memory, because he is not sure that the
materials are at hand with which he can correct his own omissions. The next step is, under
jje excitement of strong passion, to persuade himself that what he desires should be truej did
§310. REPRESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 325
really occur, or was really written or said. If he asserts this by his own word, he is the more
strongly committed to believe it. At last, he becomes so false to the workings of his own
memory, that he dares not trust it himself. Under the constant excitements of passion and
prevailing selfishness, his memory and imagination are confounded together, so that the man
himself cannot trace the line which divides the two. The appropriate functions of the mem-
ory come to be distrusted, and the memory itself is almost obliterated.
It is well to remember, that, while the liar has more pressing need of a good memory than
any other man, he is of all men the least likely to possess it.
CHAPTER V.
REPRESENTATION. (2) THE PHANTASY, OR IMAGING POWER.
From perfect memory, we pass (§ 274) through the several forms and degrees of imperfect
memory till we come to the phantasy. In other words, from representation with recog-
nition, we proceed to representation without recognition. The phantasy is conspicuous
in reverie, dreaming, somnambulism, and insanity. In all these varied forms of mani-
festation, it presents some of the most difficult as well as the most interesting problems
for the student of the soul and the intellect of man.
Phantasy de- § 31°- The phantasy, or imaging power, is that form of
Sated and iUus" rePresentation which brings before the mind's apprehension
objects, or, more exactly, images, as such, severed from all
relations of place, time, or previous cognition. The best example of the
exercise of this power is furnished in dreaming. In this state, the mind
is the passive subject and observer of the images that throng in upon it,
with no recognition of their having been previously known. In what are
called the abnormal or disordered states of the soul — as somnambulism,
and the various types and degrees of insanity — the phantasy has a more
or less complete control. Its images and pictures are so far from being
remembered as past, that they are believed to be present realities.
Among the wakeful and normal states of the soul, reverie is
cyT'oid aSfan" tne Pures* an(l the most perfect instance of phantasy. In
this condition, the workings of the phantasy are more or
less pure, according as the mind is more or less completely given up to
the passive contemplation of the pictures that pass rapidly before its view.
The fewer the relations to the past or the present which they suggest, the
more complete is the working of the phantasy. The more free it is from
any attendant sense-perceptions or from any remembrances to which these
pictures tend, or from any operations of thought, the more entire is the
dominion of simple phantasy. In earliest infancy this power may be sup-
posed to be active, for the reason that the mind has not yet reached a
condition in which memory proper is possible. As soon, however, as the
mind has perceived distinct and separate objects, it has materials which it
326 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §311.
can represent simply as pictures, even before it has perceived them
under those relations of place, time, and its own experience which are
essential to memory. In extreme old age also, when the incapacity to
attend to single objects for a long continuance precludes intelligent and
effective perception, memory, or thought, the phantasy may still survive,
aud actively call up the pictures of the past, simply as pictures, each
recalling the next, according to the conditions and laws already explained.
In the wakeful and earnest periods of the mind's activity, the exercise of
Why phantasy
infrequent, simple phantasy is precluded, for the obvious reason, that at such times the
Trains of associa- mjn(j js mtent upon some rational object, which lifts it above the condition
of the passive recipience or contemplation of pictures. What would other-
wise be pictures only, become remembrances ; or they are shaped by imagination into orderly
and rational creations, for the ends of amusement and instruction ; or they are subjected to
the uses of thought in classification, reasoning, invention, and discovery. And yet, with such
activities, there are not infrequently mingled those approaching to pure phantasy. When one
object suggests another in a train of associations, many may be recalled without a single dis-
tinct act of remembrance, and yet every one may be a transcript from some reality experienced
in the past. Each is recalled, however, not as a remembered or recognized object, but as an
image of simple phantasy. Indeed, in every such train of rapid association through which
the mind proceeds in its eager quest of some object or end earnestly sought for, innumerable
such pictures must present themselves in rapid succession. Whatever the mind may have
permanently acquired — as a face, a landscape, a taste, a sound, the voice or step of a friend,
a musical air — may come back as a phantasm, or image. Of many of these objects it is true,
that if the mind dwells upon them, they may be remembered as well as pictured ; but if they
simply flit before the eye of the mind, each suggesting the other, their presentation and obser-
vation is the work of the phantasy alone. This power is exercised far more frequently than
we notice, for the reason that it is mingled with the exercise of the higher powers, while these
last, and their results, occupy our chief energy and attention.
8 311. When the higher functions of the soul are whollv,
Painting. Sleep. ° . ■ ° .-„..„.
Distraction. or m part, put in abeyance, as m iamting, fatigue, or sleep,
or when there is bodily weakness, or any disturbance of the
nervous equilibrium, as in fever, delirium, or excitement from liquor or
narcotics, or even in protracted sleeplessness, the phantasy asserts a more
or less complete dominion. The mind is visited with throngs of pictures,
which rush so rapidly by as to confuse it by their very swiftness, and to
oppress it by a sense of its own impotence to arrest or direct then-
course. When this condition is permanent, the mind is said to be the
victim of phantasy. Such a state is called also a state of distraction —
which term describes the mind's incapacity to fix the attention or detain
these flying images long enough to allow the exercise of the functions
of rational memory, invention, or thought.
These higher and rational functions are often in part suspended, and phantasy has a tem-
porary mastery. At such times it presents pictures of persons or events that have been im-
pressed upon the attention by the energy of strong emotion. A paroxysm of fear will stamp
an image so ineffaceably upon the phantasy, that it will ever afterwards be held ready to start
forth from any object of perception or memory that even remotely suggests it. The mothei
§312. REPRESENTATION. THE PHANTASY. 32 1
is ever beholding with the eye of the mind the image of her child that is forever lost. The
perpetrator of crime is haunted by the faces of those whom he has murdered or grievously
wronged, both when he does and when he does not connect them with any past scenes or acta
observed or performed by himself.
Three supposi- § 312. These conditions of the soul are grave problems to
the"8 states ° i°n the psychologist. They suggest questions which his science
must attempt to answer. Three suppositions may be made
in respect to them: (1.) These states may be said to be simply abnormal
or irregular, recognizing and obeying no law. (2.) They may be set down
as simply inexplicable, suggesting the existence of laws which cannot be
discovered. (3.) They may be explained in great part by the usually
recognized laws of the soul in its normal and wakeful condition. Of
these suppositions, we affirm the last. To affirm the second, were to con-
fess ignorance. To do this, if it is necessary, is to be honest and wise ;
but not unless we are compelled by necessity. Present ignorance should
arouse us to the effort of explanation. To affirm the first, were to deny
one of our primal beliefs, and to oppose one of our original and strongest
tendencies. The probability is, then, immensely in favor of the last. If
the laws which govern the recurrence and representation of ideas have
been fully and correctly set forth, they ought to explain the phenomena
of the sleeping and disordered conditions of the soul. That they do so,
is probable for the following reasons :
The power of I- The power of association operates very efficiently in these
operatiYe71 in conditions. In dreaming, somnambulism, insanity, etc., etc.,
them an. ^g presence and powers are often most apparent. Whatever
else is strange and inexplicable in these phenomena, nothing is more clear
or better established, than that the threads of association can often be dis-
tinctly traced in them. When we ask ourselves, Why did it happen that
I had such or such a dream ? or, How did it happen that this thought or
that occurred to me perhaps under a strange disguise ? it is often very
easy to answer by a reference to the usually recognized laws of association.
The strange and unexpected sallies of the insane, however wild and pre-
posterous they may be, follow some law of association, though it often leads
to the most fantastic result. There is always some method in their mad-
ness. Given the impression of some conception or fancy, and it will draw a
score or hundred others with it by a rational and orderly suggestion.
Deviations ac- H- The deviations from the ordinary working of these laws
By Changes ^in can a^S0' to some extent, be satisfactorily accounted for.
portioeiatof Pthe (L) Tne P°wers of the soul ordinarily act in a certain
powers. conjunction with and proportion to one another. It is not
surprising, that, when a single power acts alone, the phenomena should
differ very greatly from those which result from the combined activity of
the rest. In the cases supposed, self-consciousness, rational activity, and the
voluntary control of the bodily movements and the mental states, are all
328 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §313
set aside ; and the associative power asserts, to a very large extent, the
possession of the soul. We ought not to be surprised, that a power
ordinarily acting in connection with the wakeful reason and under its
control, should manifest results unlike those which appear when these
regulating elements are present. That the images suggested should differ
from those suggested by the same exciting causes under other circum-
stances— that images should even be taken for real existences — that, being
believed to be realities, they should suggest images differing from those
which they would excite when known to be images only, that the activity
of the mind, in this isolated and unruled form, should seem to be more
rapid than in its waking and rational states, are phenomena which should
occasion no great surprise. We have, by the supposition, an unquestioned
fact — the associative power acting, to a great degree, independently of
the other powers. It ought to be expected that its results, and the modes
of its operation, should vary from those which attend it when working
conjointly with the rest.
(2.) Certain bodily states are known greatly to modify the
Sliiy states. tbe actings of the soul, when the soul is wakeful and in health.
It is according to the law of its being, that its action should
be modified still more when the bodily affections become more efficient
and obtrusive. Whether the vital and psychical principles are or are not
the same, no fact is more obvious than that the action of the soul is con-
trolled very largely by bodily and material conditions. The power of
these conditions upon the soul in wakefulness and health is most efficient,
and often irresistible. At times they nearly displace and set aside the
higher powers. Weariness, pain, disturbing sounds and sights, and many
other influences, so weaken and distract the attention — thley so absorb or
lower the intellectual and voluntary energy, that perception, memory,
reasoning, and even consciousness itself, are well-nigh suspended.
It should not be surprising then, that under other physical conditions,
such as sleep and cerebral excitement, even stranger psychical phenomena
should be manifest. Whether or not any connection can be traced between
these physical changes and the psychical results, the fact that there are
extraordinary effects of this sort, is in entire accordance with the analogies
suggested by facts that are familiar and acknowledged.
(3.) By other (3.) The comprehensive law under which past mental states
thematerSs on are reproduced, should be distinguished from the materials
which it works. Up0n whicn it operates. While the laws of representation re-
main the same, the conditions under which, and the materials with which
they act, may vary enough to account for every variety of phenomena.
8 313. The law of reproduction acts out of consciousness,
consideration of We find it in being and in constant activity. We can neither
the conditions , . , . T . . ,. ,.
of rcpresenta- hinder nor arrest its course. It is continually presenting to
our view images or ideal objects of knowledge, of some of
§313. REPEESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 329
which we distinctly recall that they have been previously present a?
realities or images, or infer that this must have been true of them. It ia
constantly casting up or turning out before us some image that more of
less efficiently catches and holds the attention. The suggesting object ia
often entirely unnoticed. We are not aware how we came to think of
some image or picture, that obtrusively thrusts itself upon our notice, or,
as we say, springs up in our mind. Here and there we notice one that is
more important and interesting than the others. To the actual reproduc-
tion of an image, two conditions are necessary, viz., its actual previous
presence to the mind, and the existence of an exciting occasion in some-
thing united with it as an element of the mind's previous knowledge or
feeling.
unnoticed bodi- ^n dreaming, insanity, etc., these conditions vary in both
!?Proaduce™ay in particulars. This is explained in part by the very great
dreaming, etc. variety of elements that enter into the soul's experience.
First, in the states of distinct and easily-remembered consciousness, there
are many elements less distinctly noticed — elements purely accessory and
subordinate. In the states under consideration, these may be brought
forward either as the materials of phantasy, or as the mediate suggestors
of other materials. In every act 'of distinct perception, there is an ex-
tended background of such objects, standing out in the field of view
with more or less prominence, but all engrossing some share of the soul's
energy. Any one of these objects, under possible exciting occasions, is
capable of being recalled. In the normal states of the soul, the prominent
or central object is usually recalled. In an abnormal state, some one of
the accessories may be represented. Under the feelings and purposes
of wakefulness, a certain class of pictures and thoughts only may be
certain to be thought of. In dreaming, another set may present them-
selves ; in insanity, still another ; and yet all of these may have been
gathered from the mind's own experience. Again : there are many con-
ditions of the soul marked by little energy of attention, as well as by the
feeble influence of rational purpose, in which the phantasy alone prevails.
In walking, in driving for relaxation, in extreme fatigue, in the transitions from wakefulness
to sleep and from sleep to wakefulness, in the many listless hours or seasons of reverie,
there are multitudes of acts and objects which leave little impression, and are rarely, if ever,
distinctly brought back to the rational and wakeful memory or imagination, simply because
these are preoccupied by occasions which suggest another description of material from past
experience. But there is a possibility that any of these should be recalled under novel cir-
cumstances.
Again, there are activities that have been experienced previously to the soul'a
rhe pre-con- conscious action. The soul exists and acts in a rudimentary way, long before
encel^and^ates" there is a rational apprehension of its states. Some of these acts tend to be
reproduced, and, under varying circumstances, may return either as a prin-
cipal or accessory element. Again : the undefined bodily sense-perceptions, or sensatior.s
which are accessory in every mental experience, and are prominent in not a few — which form
330 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §313.
the background of many, and come into the foreground of many also, all tend to recur again.
In the rational and wakeful periods of activity they may not, in fact, reappear, because they
are crowded out by others that are more important ; but, under other circumstances, they maj
be thrust forward as images, or as the occasions or suggestors of others, and thus, in part,
account for the objects thought of by the dreamer and the insane.
The bodily con- ^ut' seeonc^ we notice that in these abnormal states of the
dition excites sou] ^e occasions which control the presentation and sug-
peculiar images. ' J. o
gestion of images are peculiar. In sleep, all the organs of
sense-perception are more or less quiescent, while the vital organs are active.
In insanity, etc., the bodily condition and activities are peculiar. In both,
they are greatly unlike those which are present in wakefulness and health.
This is conceded by all physiologists. These peculiar and morbid bodily
states are manifest to the soul in the form of peculiar sensations, both
vital and organic. Sleep, from the beginning to the end, is attended by
a series of sense-perceptions unlike those experienced in wakefulness.
We refer to those which pertain to the body, and its subjective condi-
tion. Insanity, in all its forms and degrees, is attended by a nervous
excitement or depression, which is revealed to consciousness by irritating
and uncomfortable sensations. The character of these sensations varies
with the nature of their exciting occasions. But these sensations, thus ex-
cited, become themselves, in turn, the excitants of images and thoughts
kindred to themselves.
For example : suppose, in sleep, when the sensations appropriate to the bodily organs are
all withdrawn, some condition of the stomach or the brain furnishes positive and peculiar
sensations to the mind. These, by the necessity of the case, are all-engrossing. They fill
the mind's field of perception, there being none of the outward senses in action. But if, for any
reason, these sensations have been associated with any other objects of knowledge, either
realities or images, these will be certain to be revived. These being recalled, in their turn
will call up others, and the mind being wholly free from the preoccupations of the sense-
world, will be given up to the objects of phantasy, the current of which will be swayed and
directed by two elements — viz., the subjective sensations occasioned by the bodily condition
and the associating force of the images which the unfettered phantasy suggests. In insanity,
let some morbid condition of the brain or nervous organism preoccupy the mind with sensa-
tions so painful and absorbing as to forbid the continued notice of the sense-world, or so rapid
as to render it impossible for the nik^. to obtain distinct perceptions even of the more familiar
objects, and these all engrossing sensations may not only be confounded with and mistaken for
real things, but may act as the suggestors of any images with which such abnormal sensations
may have been associated, or to which they are akin.
The creative A third consideration should also be noticed. The creative
phlntapynot^to power of the phantasy may have especial activity in
be denied. dreaming and insanity. "Whatever that power may be in
its functions and products — if it be allowed that the phantasy is in any
sense creative — if, in the waking and rational states, it is not tied to a
simple reproduction of the past ; if it has any liberty of origination, then
it might be natural and credible for it to exercise this freedom more
§314. EEPEESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 331
fully when unlimited by sense, reason, or will, than when constrained by
these in the earnest activities of the wakeful and rational hours. That the
creations of the phantasy of the dreamer and the madman have no cor*
respondent realities, is obvious to all. The creations of " a madman's
dream " are conceived by us as the most unnatural and the wildest of all
unrealities. Whether there can be any explanation of the laws of this
creative power or not, or any solution of the kind of products which it
evolves, it is but just to observe that it is exerted in the sleeping as well
as in the waking states. If the phantasy is, in its very nature, a creative
as well as representative power, it is not surprising that it should create
in madness and in sleep. If its creations are free in the one state, when
reason is wakeful and the will is attent, and earnest purposes control, it is
not surprising that, in those conditions of activity in which these influences
are feeble, its products should be irrational and unnatural.
These considerations may serve as the foundations of a general theory
of those various conditions of the soul's activity known as faintness,
dreaming, somnambulism, and delirium. They are designed only to pre-
pare for a more particular consideration of each. We consider, first of
all, sleep, in two aspects. ,
(1.) Sleep as a condition of the body, or, Sleep physiologically considered.
§ 314. We cannot understand sleep as a state of the soul, without consider-
The senses, in ing the corporeal conditions of these peculiar psychological phenomena. In
orTess inert™01 order to interpret it psychologically, we must first consider it physiologically.
In sleep, physiologically viewed, the organs of perception, and the nerves
connected with them, are comparatively inactive, and seem incapable of performing their
accustomed functions. The nervous activity which is essential to their being used in the ser-
vice of the soul is greatly weakened, and is often, to appearance, entirely suspended. The
power of the eye and the ear to perform their parts as the conditions of the several sense-
perceptions appropriate to each, no longer exists. Popularly speaking, these organs of the
body are no longer affected by their appropriate stimuli, and no longci themselves affect the soul.
Conversely, also, the soul can no longer control the organs of sense and of
They are not locomotion; or, more exactly, the soul loses, in a very great degree, its
soul.10 G ^ ' power to direct these organs. The eflfe <,nt nerves connected with these
organs are so far weakened or lowered in tone as to render this control very
imperfect, and seemingly to destroy it altogether. All the functions which connect the soul
'Vith the external world, and which depend on the senso-motor nerves and the cerebro-spinal
system, are nearly, or quite, suspended in sleep.
On the other hand, the functions of the vegetative, circulatory, and respiratory
The vegetative, organs, which are directly connected with the ganglionic system of nerves,
respiratory' life1. g° on as usual, though in the case of some with a somewhat diminished
energy. The heart beats, and the lungs are expanded and contracted ; the
Btomach digests, but at a lower than its customary rate. It would follow that nutrition, or
the secretion of the food, would also be less rapid and energetically effected. That in all
these functions the whole tone of life is lowered, is manifest directly from observation, and is
inferred from the greater sensitiveness of the body in sleep, to all those agencies which weaken
^ or endanger the life. The temperature of the body is lowered ; hence the need of warmer
clothing, and the greater readiness to take cold, to be injured by malaria, or other destructive
Influences. All these facts indicate that the vital force, or the power to resist antagonistic
S3 2 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §315.
agencies, is diminished. On the other hand, it is certain that the nutrition of the brain and the
whole nervous organism, is greatly augmented in sleep, and that sleep is even essential to restore
the waste of their material which wakefulness occasions. What is the precise manner, or what
are the laws by which this restoration is effected in sleep, physiology cannot fully explain. It
can only observe and record the fact, of the truth of which there cannot possibly be any question
or doubt. That the restoration of this power is especially needed by that portion of the
nervous organism which is affected by the action of the intellect, is also beyond dispute.
A few recent and carefully-conducted observations and experiments have
Recent discov- established the following results : In sleep, the flow of arterial blood is
elusions. " diminished, and its quantity is sensibly withdrawn from the brain. The
apparent congestion of the vessels of the brain is occasioned either by the
more sluggish movement and larger accumulation of venous blood, or by the presence of the
watery cerebro-spinal fluid. In dreams, the arterial circulation in the brain is somewhat
quickened. In deeper and dreamless sleep it is less rapid.
In wakefulness, the brain and body are wasted by the more rapid action of the oxygenated
or arterial blood ; and hence the wasting, destructive, and exhaustive processes are in excess
of the nutritive. In sleep, the nutritive and constructive are. in excess of the wasting; so
that, while the body is in this condition, not only is the waste of the waking hours repaired,
but additional force is accumulated and stored up against the demands which will be made upon
it when wakefulness returns. The increased intellectual and emotional activity of the waking
state involves the most rapid waste of the brain. If wakefulness is protracted too long, by
nervous restlessness, or excessive mental occupation or anxiety, it terminates in fever, delirium,
or dementia, through a temporary disease or permanent lesion of the nervous organism itself.
Hence, sleep is, if possible, more absolutely indispensable to the restoration of mental activity,
than to that of any other human function.
The incapacity of the organs of sense to be affected by impressions from
These conditions without, as well as to yield to influences or directions from within, varies at
tioif and degree!" different times. It occurs in different degrees, from the slight hebetude or
obtuseness of which we are aware on the first approach of slumber, and from
which we can easily be aroused by any usual excitement from the world without, up to the
deepest slumber from which no external appliances can arouse the subject to even momentary
sensibility. The want of control of the soul over its organs, also varies from the momentary
loss of power which can suddenly be resumed, to that permanent impotence to speak or move,
which is experienced in the most distressing nightmare.
§ 315. In falling to sleep, the soul passes through many of these conditions,
The soul falls beginning with the slightest unconsciousness, and proceeding more or
grees? * 6~ gradually through more or fewer intervening stages, according as the sleep
attains a more or less complete insensibility, and reaches this state by tran-
sitions that are more or less rapid. In awaking from sleep, it emerges from a condition of
more or less complete insensibility to one in which the senses are fully refreshed and active ;
and more or less gradually, according as the occasion and manner of its waking is more or less
gentle or violent. The same is true of the processes by which it loses and regains its com-
mand over the organs.
Cabanis (Rapports du physique et du moral, etc., Mem. x.) endeavors to show that therel
is a natural and regular order in which the several senses fall to sleep. The sight is the firstl
which becomes quiescent ; the sense of taste is next in order ; the sense of smell is affectedl
next ; the hearing next ; and, last of all, the touch. In awaking, the touch is most easily!
aroused, at least in certain parts , of the body, as the feet ; the hearing comes n#xt in order,|
the sight next, while the senses of taste and smelling awake the last. But to this relative
proportion of the intensity of sleep there are many exceptions in the case of different indi-
viduals, and in the varying bodily and mental circumstances of each, if wc say nothing of the
general proclivities dependent upon sex, age, etc. While these conclusions may be acceptec
§ 316. BEPBESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 33S
as general formulae, it must still be remembered that no two cases of falling asleep or awak-
ing from sleep even in the same individual, are precisely alike in respect to the stages of
progress or emergence.
The different senses, as has already been intimated, fall asleep at different
One sense may times in various degrees, and awake also in unlike proportions. This is true
may be awake. of tne action of the sense-organs on. the soul, and of the reaction of the soul
upon the organs. Thus, the sense of sight may be very obtuse when the
sense of hearing is active, as is the case when a person watches by the bed of one who is ill,
or in the instance of men who can find refreshment in sleep when reading or conversation i3
going on, and be able to recite when awake what has been read or spoken while they were
sleeping. The miller sleeps while his mill is grinding, but wakes if it stops. Another person
sleeps while it is still, but wakes when it moves. The watchman, when wearied, sleeps with
all his senses, except the senses of touch and muscular direction. Soldiers sleep in every sense
and organ of motion, except the legs with which they march continuously. We may say of
almost every case of slumber, that it is unlike every, other in respect to the proportion in
which each of the senses is insensible or incapable of control.
A remarkable story is told by Felix Platerus of Oporinus, a distinguished professor and
printer at Basle ; to the effect that he read aloud to another person a long time from a newly-
found manuscript, while he was soundly asleep in all his other senses as a consequence of a
long and fatiguing journey. (Hamilton, Met. Lee. xvii.)
(2.) Sleep as a condition of the soul, or, Sleep considered psychologically.
§ 316. The activity of the soul continues during sleep. It is not entirely
Does the soul suspended at any time, though its energy may now and then be exceedingly
sleep 1 ' feeble. That it often acts during sleep, is confessed by all. Every dream
involves some form of the activity of the soul. Inasmuch as all men ac-
knowledge that dreams are possible during sleep, all must assent to the proposition that it is
possible for the soul to be active while the body slumbers. There is some diversity of opinion
in respect to the question, whether this activity is constant, or whether it is ever interrupted.
Many have argued that this activity often ceases, from the circumstance that we are not con-
scious, nor do we remember that we dream all the while that we are asleep ; that we know that
we dream more frequently when sleep is less complete, as soon after we fall asleep, or just
before we wake ; that in our deepest slumber it often happens that no signs of conscious
activity are indicated to a looker-on ; and that it is not necessary to the continued existence of
the soul that it be constantly active.
On the other hand, it is urged that the soul is always active, because, on
manV believe vfc awaking, it is at once aware of its own identity, which involves the belief of
never ceases to continued existence during the interval of sleep ; and when it wakes, it may
recall or review a continued series of sensational experiences, if it cannot
bring back an uninterrupted course of conscious activities. Moreover, it is urged that the
fact that the soul does not recall all its dreams does not disprove that it dreams, for there are
many waking states during the progress of a single hour, much more during a day, which can-
not be recalled. There are also many dreams which we do not recall ; as is obvious from the
circumstance, that if, on waking, we lay hold at once of the thread which is in our hands, we
can trace our way backwards through the maze of even a succession of dreams. When a per-
son is suddenly awaked from the soundest sleep, and even from a state of confirmed stupor,
and his thoughts are directed immediately to his mental condition the instant before, he will
often be able to recall some absorbing dream ; or, if not a dream of definite thoughts and
feelings, he will remember a series of benumbed sensations, painful or pleasant, that have
occupied his energies. The reason why more of these past activities and experiences are
not recalled, is that the waking thoughts and feelings are so all-absorbing as to exclude the
opportunity of recalling, if the clue were at hand, and that this clue can only be reached bj
334 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 315
many indirect or intermediate trains of activity. That we are often conscious when we sleep,
without knowing that we dream, is obvious from the fact that an uncommon light, or smell, or
touch, or sound, even if these are very feeble, will awake us, and that we wake ourselves often
at a prescribed hour (cf. Hamilton, Met. Lee. xvii.).
The constant activity of the soul was argued by the Platonists from its independent and
Opinions of Des- ethereal essence; by Descartes and his school, from their axiom, that the essence of
carte.?, Locke, the soul consists in thought, and that therefore, if thought should cease, the essence
and Leibnitz. 0f ^he soul would be destroyed. Against the school of Descartes, Locke (Essay, B. ii.
c. i. §§ 10-19) urges that it is not of the essence of spirit to think ; and that, for aught we
can prove, matter might, by the act of the creator, be endowed with the power of thought. Moreover, he
contends that some men never dream at all, and that none are conscious that they dream continuously ;
making in his argument the power to recall our dreams the test and the measure of the actual occurrence
of these dreams. Leibnitz, in his critique upon Locke (Nouv. Ess. ii. 1, §§ 10-19), replies, that conscious-
ness is not necessary to the soul's activity, and that it would not follow, therefore, because we are not
conscious that we think, that we do not think in fact. He also urges, that there are feeble perceptions in
all sleep, even when we are not conscious that we dream. This conclusion necessarily follows, from his
doctrine of monads, involving as it does the constant activity or dynamic force of all existences and their
ultimate elements, in the relations of each to every other ; and preeminently, the activity of those which
are psychical. Modern psychologists are nearly unanimous in the opinion, that the soul is constantly
active, though with unequal energy varying with the different conditions or intensities of the slumber.
This conclusion is held by all except those who maintain that psychical activity is properly a function of
matter and its organs. It rests upon the grounds which have already been cited, and on the clearer recog-
nition of the very unequal energy of consciousness in the varying conditions of the soul's being.
§ 31 *7. That the soul acts with feebler energy when asleep than when awake
The soul, in is obvious from the circumstance that in some of its powers it scarcely acta
feebler Energy. at aU with judgment or rational direction. It may be fairly inferred from
the general dependence of the tone of its action upon the tone of the body
which is observed in wakefulness, which dependence, as may be fairly inferred from analogy,
extends to its sleeping states. The only possible exception to this conclusion would be sug-
gested by the fact that some of the powers — e. g., the phantasy — may seem to act in sleep
with greater energy than in wakefulness. This point will be considered when the action of
the representative power is particularly examined. In general, we know from observation,
and infer by analogy, in respect both of the sleeping and the waking states, that the psychical
energy depends on the vital force, if, indeed, it is not identical with it, so that when the one is
lowered, the other is weakened. The only apparent exception to this general remark is found
in those conditions when great bodily or vital weakness manifests itself in the irregular and ex-
cited action of some of the vital functions, and, in like manner, psychical weakness is exhibited
by the excited violence of some of the intellectual or emotional endowments. With this
exception, observation confirms what analogy suggests, that, in sleep, the general activity of
the soul is greatly lowered.
The powers and capacities of the soul act with unequal and varying energy
ac^witb^un^auai m different persons and in differing conditions of sleep.
and varying As the sleep of the body varies in the completeness of its effects upon
GucrffV
the whole body, and also upon its several organs, so is it with the sleep of
the soul. In one dream, the power of sense-perception may be more active than in another.
At one time, consciousness, even in the form of reflection, may be active ; at another, it may
be entirely dormant. The reasoning and inductive faculty in some dreams is intelligently and
earnestly alive, while in others there are no indications of the exercise or activity of either.
§ 318. The representative power of the soul, as has already been said, is
The representa- that which is especially prominent in sleep. The law or force under which
sleep. powor m it acts has already been explained as the tendency of the soul to act more
readily a second time in forms and with objects which have previously occu-
pied its energies. This tendency' or force needs only to be supposed to be exerted without
the regulating or dividing presence of the other faculties, in order to account for its greater
§320. REPRESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 335
apparent energy. This energy need be relative only, and not absolute, in order to seem to be
greater, -when, in fact, the tone of the soul, in all its faculties and activities, may be weaker
than in wakefulness. That it is the one power in which this energy is chiefly expended,
whether it is greater or less, is so obvious as to be undisputed and unquestioned.
All the so-called laws of association control the production and presence of the objects
that make up the image-world of the dreamer. These objects are sometimes recalled under
-the relations of time and space, in succession or co-existence. Sometimes the relations of
likeness or unlikeness control ; at others, those of cause and effect. Very often, all these
relations must be resorted to, to account for the presence of the various objects of which a
single dream is composed.
This force acts, as we know, out of consciousness ; and its energy and the grounds of it
can only be known by its effects, in the actual emergence of objects to the mind's apprehen-
sion. If it operates with but little interference from the directive or rational energies, we should
expect that its actings would be unlike those of the regulated imagination or the regulated
memory, for the reasons already given. That this is emphatically true of the images in the
dream-world, is confessed by all.
§ 319. This comparative irregularity and capriciousness pertains to the order
Is irregular and in which these objects are presented to the mind. When the wakeful soul
BOnSi ' "is intent on recalling some object to memory, all the operations of the repre-
sentative power are controlled by this prevailing purpose. The multitude of
varied objects which are presented by the associating power, are entertained or thrust aside
by the judging and reasoning intellect, and so an order of their relative value is secured to
the objects themselves by the mind's reaction upon them. Even if the mind gives itself up
to reverie, it is constantly awake, or ready to be awake, to the suggestions of reason, of use,
of beauty, or of rectitude. There are attendant processes of judgment even here, which are
constantly discriminating between the true and the false, which judgments must direct the
order of the re-presentations.
There is also the rationalizing and sobering presence of the material world, with its ob-
trusive realities that cannot be mistaken ; its permanent attributes, that cannot be changed ;
its eternal and superior laws, that can neither be resisted nor set aside. The perpetual pres-
ence of this fixed and orderly body of facts and truths, of itself gives reason and order to the
fancies which it must in part control and regulate.
But in dreams there is an absence of judgments, or the judgments are false, and the
stream of images flows on, under the joint impulses given it by the energies of the mind's
previous activity and the force of casual mental or bodily suggestions. The material world is
withdrawn from the mind's cognizance as an apprehended fact ; it is as though it were not,
and never had existed.
§ 320. The mind's interpretations of the images of fancy, and even of its
The judgments bodily sensations, are also false and irrational. First of all, it judges the
wild. Why 1 image-world to be a real world. How this is possible, it is not so easy to
explain ; that it is a fact, cannot be doubted. The only plausible explanation
which can be attempted, must be derived from our previous analysis of the process of sense-
perception. This analysis showed that the act of original perception is a judgment of di-
versity— i. e., of the ego from the non-ego — involving the judgment of a relation to space.
The acquired perceptions are even more obviously acts of judgment under which one sense-
perception is taken as the sign of another, with a rapidity that is inconceivable and usually
with a certainty that cannot be shaken. The first hint or sign carries the mind directly to a
positive inference, if the original datum is correctly taken. The conditions of such judgments
in both cases may be and probably are some effort of attention involving continuance in time.
In dreaming, both these conditions are absent ; there is no effort of attention, and the objects
judged are not detained for any interval of time. The mind is preoccupied by the action of
336 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 321.
the representing power or phantasy, under which one object or state introduces another ; the
first one impelling the second, etc., so rapidly that the mind cannot discriminate or judge.
Now, the first impulse, when a picture is presented of an absent reality, is to believe it to be
real when there is no ground for the opposite belief. This is wisely provided in the constitu-
tion of man, to secure all those actions for which the knowledge or the thought of any reality
is given. The mind, in dreaming, yields to this impulse. The sense-world is wholly with-
drawn, or but feebly indicated, through the temporary torpor of the organs of sense and the
cooperating mind. The mind, apprehending no real world with which to contrast and judge the
imaginary, uses the little force which remains, to infer that the products of its shifting phantasy
are themselves realities. They are believed to be real, for they excite all the emotions which
the realities are fitted to produce. Delight is experienced at the image of a friend believed to
be present, who is perhaps far distant, or long removed by death. Grief is felt at some distress-
ing event which is simply pictured by the phantasy. The mind is not only incapable of dis-
criminating the real from the fantastic, but it interprets the real to be itself a part of its
fantastic world. The bodily sensations which it experiences, the sensations of cold or heat,
of oppression in the stomach or the heart, and pain or pleasure in any part of the body, it
misinterprets in some fantastic way. Thus Dr. Gregory relates that, having occasion to apply
a bottle of hot water to his feet, he dreamed that he was walking on Mount Etna, and found
the heat insupportable. A person suffering from a blister applied to his head, imagined that
he was scalped by a party of Indians. A person sleeping in damp sheets, dreamed that he
was dragged through a stream. By leaving the knees uncovered, as an experiment, the dream
was produced that the person was travelling by night in a diligence. Leaving the back part
of the head uncovered, the same person dreamed he was present at a religious ceremony per-
formed in the open air. The smell of a smoky chamber has occasioned frightful dreams of
being involved in conflagration. The scent of flowers may transport the dreamer to some
enchanted garden, or the tones of music may surround him with the excitements of a well-
appointed concert. In all these cases, actual sensations are first interpreted as parts of the
ideal scene, or they suggest some kindred image, which, in its turn, calls up a succession or
series of pictures taken from the actual experience or waking imagination of the dreamer,
all of which are believed to be realities. It is more or less distinctly implied by these errors,
that the judgment of what is probable or possible is often greatly weakened, or entirely set
aside. The incongruous combinations are made of forms that are inconsistent and grotesque,
and events that are antagonistic and incompatible. Events and persons very far removed in
time and very widely sundered in space, are brought together in a single scene. The per-
son or scene breaks into fragments, and takes on new, incongruous, and motley materials
under the very eye of the mind, without any shock to its sense of propriety or probability.
The mind receives the new formation without being disturbed by the process of transition, and
at once accepts the new to be as truly real as it did the old. The causes have no relation nor
proportion to the effects, and the effects are incapable of being explained by their causes ;
and yet the two are connected as causes and effects (cf. Milton, Par. Lost, B. v. 100-113).
§ 321. The exercise of this judgment in respect to the higher relations of
and other hMief tnougat varies very greatly in the energy of its action, and the perfec-
functions, in tion of its results. There are many cases in dreams in which single steps,
or parts of a series of steps in reasoning, are taken surely and correctly, while
these processes are entirely disconnected with what went before or followed after, as if tic
rational powers had resumed for a single instant their full energy of function. In other cases,
the reasoning may be correct and the data may be false, and yet the falseness of the data may
not be perceived. In still other cases, the data may be correctly discerned, and the conclu-
sions correctly derived, so that both premises and reasoning combine to a valid and true
conclusion. Even the more difficult feats of the invention and construction of the materials of
an argument, have been successfully performed in dreams. The creations of poetry, even to the
§323. EEPEESENTATI02ST. — THE PHANTASY. 337
selection of rhythmical words, the composition of sermons and addresses, have been often
effected. Difficult problems in mathematics have been solved and remembered ; new and
ingenious theories have been devised. Happy expedients of deliverance from practical diffi-
culties have presented themselves, and brought relief from serious embarrassments. Tortini is
said to have composed the famous Devil's Sonata from the materials recalled from a dream, in
which the devil appeared to him, and challenged him to a trial of skill. Mr. S. T. Coleridge
gives a detailed account of the composition of Kubla Khan, in a dream suggested by reading
an account of the hero in Purchas* Pilgrimage, a portion of which he wrote down at once,
and the whole of which was distinctly present to his memory when he first awoke. Dr.
Franklin informed Cabanis, that in dreams he saw often into the bearings of political events
which baffled him when awake. Condorcet would leave complicated calculations which he
could not resolve when awake, to be taken up and finished while he was dreaming. In Moritz,
Magazin zur Erfahrungs-Seelen-Kunde, vol. v. p. 59, is a poem composed in a dream by Baron
Seckendorf, 1784.
In all examples of this kind, the successful exeicise of reasoning and invention is always
in that form of activity to which the person is familiarly accustomed, and it is not always easy
to distinguish between the suggestion to the memory of what had been previously achieved by
a man when awake, and an original act of the mind upon the data brought before him fur the
first time in his dreams. Trains of thought often repeated by habit, have often the semblance
of being the products of original thinking when we are awake. It is not surprising that the
same should happen to us in our dreams. It must always be true that the results of practised
skill come to the aid of the dreamer, to facilitate his processes.
§ 322. Consciousness is ordinarily but feebly exercised by the soul in its
Self-conscious- dreams. It is often said to be absent altogether. By consciousness is under-
ness in dreams. stood the distinct apprehension of the psychical states, as the states of the
individual ego, and not that fleeting knowledge of them which is essential to
any intellectual activity. It is when consciousness acts as judgment, and recognizes the relations
of psychical states, that its results remain in the memory. This form or degree of consciousness
is usually entirely absent, or feebly exercised in dreams. The reason why it is thus feebly put
forth, may be the same which accounts for the absence of judgment in its interpretations of
the semblances of the material world. Distinct consciousness requires a certain continuance
of the psychical activity of which we are conscious. Each psychical state, in order to be appre-
hended as existing or as past, must continue for a longer period than is allowed by the hasty
and tumultuous appearance of the objects of the uncontrolled phantasy. Even if these objects
are apprehended as existing, they cannot, for a similar reason, be apprehended as belonging
to the individual experiencing them. The thought rarely occurs to the dreamer, This thought
or feeling is my thought or my feeling. These states rush by too rapidly to allow him to think
of himself, either as an individual, or as an individual who has previously existed, or as pos-
sessed of capacities or a character that have been developed or matured by previous training.
None of these processes of reflection or comparison seem compatible with the objective char-
acter and the hurried progress of ordinary dreams. In such states, the mind is eminently
objective — it is occupied by, and, as it were, absorbed in the images which the phantasy paints
and unrolls for its inspection. Hence it follows that so few dreams are remembered, and that
here and there only a fragment of a dream comes again to the mind.
§ 323. For the same reason the estimates of time are so extravagantly and.^
Estimates of even ludicrously erroneous. In our dreams, we occupy a year in making a
time in dreams, voyage; we perform a journey, we witness a long procession, we climb a «
mountain, and yet the time actually expended is inconceivably short. The
following has been often quoted as pertinent :
The recital is from Count Lavalette, of a dream which be had when imprisoned under sentence of
ieath. "One night, while I was asleep, the clock of the Palais de Justice struck twelve, and awoke me.
22
338 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 326,
I heard the gate open to relieve the sentry ; hut I fell asleep again immediately. In this sleep I dreamed
that I was standing in the Rue St. Honore, at the corner of the Eue de l'Echelie. A melancholy darknosa
spread around me ; all was still ; nevertheless, a low and uncertain sound soon arose. All of a sudden I
perceived at the bottom of the street, and advancing towards me, a troop of cavalry, the men and horses,
however, all flayed. This horrible troop continued passing in a rapid gallop, and casting frightful looks
on me. Their march, I thought, continued for five hours ; and they were followed by an immense number
of artillery-wagons, full of bleeding corpses whose limbs still quivered ; a disgusting smell of blood and
bitumen choked me. At length, the iron'gate of the prison shutting with great force, awoke me again. I
made my repeater strike; it was no more than midnight, so that the horrible phantasmagoria had lasted
no more than two or three minutes — that is to say, the time necessary for relieving the sentry and shutting
the gate The cold was severe and the watchword short. The next day, the turnkey confirmed my
calculations."
These erroneous judgments of time are the natural and necessary consequences of mis.
taking the phantasms of our dreams for real substances and events. We picture to ourselves
the incidents of a voyage or a journey. We turn these pictures into realities, and they carry
with themselves the estimates of time which would be required if they existed or occurred in
fact. The weakening of the consciousness of the accompanying mental states, withdraws any
corrective influences which would be furnished by the more distinct apprehension of the time
required for these psychical states.
§ 324. This weakening of consciousness will serve in part, to answer ques-
Moralresposibil- ^ons concerning our moral responsibility for the feelings or actions which
ity in dreams. we allow in dreams. In general, we may say that, in dreams we have no
right judgments of the sense-world, or the psychical world, or our own indi-
vidual states. These data being wrongly assumed, we are consequently not in a condition to
judge rightly of what we ought to do or to be. We cannot properly be held responsible for
any so-called actions or intentions. We sometimes fancy that we are other persons than our-
selves. In such a case, we could not be held responsible for doing what might be appropriate
to others, yet is not to ourselves. Whether there is any proper exercise of the will in dreams,
we have not yet considered.
§ 325. The activity of the sensibilities in the dreaming state requires a
The emotional moment's consideration. That we feel in our dreams, or seem to feel, will
drains.8 1U uot De disputed. If we believe we are in danger, we experience terror; if
we dream that we are safe or successful, we rejoice. In some cases, but not
usually, the fear and happiness are as intense and as real as when we are awake. In other
cases, we feel, but on the review are surprised that we felt no more. Our joy and sorrow are
but the pale counterfeits of waking emotions. The intensity of the emotions depends on the
strength of our belief and the time of its continuance. If a horrid phantasm or blessed
ghost holds the attention and occupies the power for continuance, so that the answering emotion
is aroused and intensified, it will be as intense and energetic as in the wakeful state. But if
the impression be momentary, it is so quickly displaced, that the emotion is weak, and the
recollection of it is feeble.
§ 326. Is the will properly active at all during our dreams ? That we act,
The activity of as well as know and feel, is obvious from experience. We seem to resist, to
dreamsT111 " struggle, to speak, to sing, to walk, to run, etc. We strive to attend, to
remember, to contrive, to compose, etc. ; in other words, we seem to use our
mental powers under some directive force for definite objects. Let it be granted that in
proper dreams, as distinguished from somnambulism, we cannot move the body ; it does not
follow that we make no effort, or that, so far as the soul is concerned, we do not act in the
ways specified. It follows that the conative, or impulsive part of our nature — the capacities
which fit for action — are employed in the dreaming state. If these capacities are properly
called the will, then we use the will in dreaming.
If we mean by the will, the capacity to direct the impulses by a rational or a moral pur.
pose, it is equally clear that the will is entirely dormant, or, at best, is only occasionally or
§328. REPRESENTATION. THE PHANTASY. 339
feebly active. It is and must be inactive, because the appropriate conditions for its exercise
are absent. The reason does not propose a distinct end which the mind retains in view. ThG
reflective consciousness neither forms rules nor imposes them. The will cannot act as a
rational or moral direction when these essential conditions are withdrawn.
DugaM Stewart {Elements, c. v., p. 1, § 5) supposes that most of the phenomena of
dream»existence and dream-activity can be accounted for by the supposition that the associ-
ative power operates according to its laws without the direction or control of the will. Hia
opinion, stated in his own language, is, " that the circumstances which discriminate dreaming
from our waking thoughts, are such as must necessarily arise from the suspension of the in-
fluence of the will." This position he illustrates by referring to the most striking and obvious
of dream-phenomena. That a force is absent which concentrates and fixes the powers — here
called a suspension of the will — is most manifest. But is this a cause, or a result ? If the
suspension of the will, as thus defined, is a nearly universal attendant of the dreaming state,
can we or can we not account for the suspension itself? Why is it that it happens invariably
and necessarily, as it would seem, that the action of the will is thus suspended ? Might it be
resumed, or ought it to be resumed, at any time, or is this suspension of the activity of the
will itself the necessary result of those peculiar conditions of the soul which are connected with
sleep ? In other words, is not the predominance of the vital and sensational activities over
the higher, necessarily involved in the very conception of sleep, and is it not a necessary con-
sequence of what we call the connection of the body with the mind ? That this is the case,
is established by the inductions of general physiology, and confirmed by the observations of
psychology. The more or less complete suspension of the functions of the will must be
regarded as an incident, and not a cause, of the psychical phenomena of the dreaming state.
Somnambulism, or abnormal sleep.
§ 327. Sleep, normally experienced, involves, as we have seen, so far as the
Three kinds of body is concerned, the entire inactivity of the organs of sense, and the en-
somnambulism, tire absence of control over the organs of sense and locomotion. So far as
the mind is concerned, the powers of sense-perception are inactive, as well
as those of continuous and rational thought, and the representative power principally engrosses
the energies of the soul. To this general definition there are not infrequent exceptions.
Some of the sense-perceptions are at times more or less active, and the soul succeeds, at
times, in affecting some motions of the body. Of these exceptions there are many varieties
in respect to the degree of the affection or action, and the proportion in which one power is
affected, or acts, when compared with another power.
Somnambulism assumes three forms, which have certain features or phenomena in com-
mon, but which, in certain respects, are unlike. These forms are the natural, the morbid, and
the artificial. The natural, is that which occurs in ordinary sleep. The morbid, is an incident
or phase of active disease of body or mind. The artificial, is induced by the instrumentality
of another person. Each of these forms or manifestations is subdivided into varieties, which
pass into one another by scarcely distinguishable shades of difference.
§ 328. Natural somnambulism is distinguished from normal sleep by the
Natural som- special sensibility of a part — generally some one of the organs of sense —
fine<l " and by special activity in the use of some of the organs of bodily motion.
The appellation, sleep-walking, is derived from the act of walking in sleep,
which occurs more frequently than any other, for obvious reasons. It is essential to many
more. A person reclining, must walk to reach the place where he desires to be. This often
attracts the attention of friends, and occasions alarm. It is taken as representing many actions,
as writing, talking, singing, spinning, playing on a musical instrument, and hence is applied aa
a general term to denote them all, and others like them, as well as that condition of body and
of mind in which these actions are conspicuous.
A multitude of examples of natural somnambulism are recorded, each of which is distinguished bj
340 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §331
some special features of interest. One only will serve for many. " A young nobleman mentioned by
Horstius, living in the citadel of Breslau, was observed by his brother, who occupied the same room, tc
rise in his sleep, wrap himself in his cloak, and escape by a window to the roof of a building. He there
.ore in pieces a magpie's nest, wrapped the young birds in his cloak, returned to his apartment, and went
to bed. In the morning he mentioned the circumstances as having occurred in a dream, and could not be
persuaded that there had been any thing more than a dream, till he was shown the magpies in his cloak.'
-Dr. Abercrombie.
The activities required in this case, were the sense-perceptions of sight to direct the move-
ments and the active control of the legs and arms. Sometimes the sense of smell or of
hearing, or of taste, are observed to be unusually acute. The- use of the voice is often ob-
served. The mental powers are often excited with great energy, continuity, and success.
Persons in the somnambulic state will recite passages from authors even in a foreign lan-
guage, which they could not repeat when awake. Those who are imperfectly proficient in a
language converse with far greater ease and correctness than they have ever been known to
do in the normal condition. Some remarkable compositions have been written, and eloquent
discourses have been spoken, which were quite beyond the ordinary capacities of the indi
viduals from whom they came.
§ 329. In the magnetic, or morbid somnambulism, such extraordinary mental
Magnetic som- Power has often been observed as to be ascribed to inspiration from another
nambulism. mind, or to some miraculous deviation from the laws of nature. The subject
has been supposed to discover the causes or seat of his own disease in some
internal organ, and to be invested with some special sense, or endowed with supernatura)
insight by which to apprehend his internal condition. He has often shown rare sagacity ir
discerning characters and interpreting events. He has surprised his intimate friends by the
wisdom and aptness of his replies to different questions. He has been thought to foretell
future events concerning himself and others ; to have visions of such events by a super-
natural inspiration or insight.
The ordinary, and the magnetic or exstatic somnambulism, differ from each
The natural and other, in that the ordinary is preceded and followed by ordinary slumber,
gashed1.0 1S m" while the exstatic comes upon the patient and leaves him at once, usually in
a condition of extreme disease. In their psychological features, the two
forms oi this affection may be considered as alike, differing only in the greater intensity of
fome of their manifestations. Both are also exaltations of phenomena which are occasionally
exhibited in common dreaming and sleep.
" . S 330. All these conditions of the soul may be said to be abnormal, and
Disease mam- ° ,.,-,,., „ ,
fested by dis- even morbid. For disease shows itself by the disturbance of the equihb-
h^riu^thofe<the rium of the several powers of an organism, as truly as by the weakening of
powers. the energy of the whole or of any of the parts. A disturbance of the bal-
anced or harmonious action of these powers may be manifested as strikingly by the excessive
and surprising energy of a power, as by its failure to perform its ordinary functions with their
usual force. In somnambulism, both these conditions are exhibited ; great strength in some
powers and achievements, and surprising weakness in others. The manifestations of energy
are, however, so surprising as to engross the attention and to withdraw it from noticing the
attendant weakness. The observer is often so astonished by the indications of power as to
lose sight of the signs of limitation and weakness. He forgets that these feats of knowledge
and skill, which seem almost to be inspired or supernatural, are more than counterbalanced by
ignorance and blundering.
§ 331. In all forms of somnambulism, the representative power is the most
Representation prominently and conspicuously active. The leading objects of cognition and
nSuiism.60"1" feeling are the mind's own creations. The man lives and moves ; he feels
and acts in and for a dream. Dream-objects are taken to be real existences,
and these engross and absorb the chief energies, and direct to many of the actions. But the
§333. REPRESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 341
dream of the somnambulist is far more methodical and continuous than the dream of ordinarj
sleep. The mind apparently rests upon its objects for a longer time, and gives to them a mor«
fixed attention than it does to the phantasmagoria of the common dream. Certainly it must
do both of these, when it adapts speech and motion to its dream-world, as it does whenever it
is prompted to speak, and walk, and lift, and write, at the rate required by its phantasms. We
are aware that its sense-perceptions direct the motions and regulate the rate of many of itp
bodily acts ; but it were a serious error to suppose that what it seems to see, or to hear by
the ear, makes up the entire world; or the principal part of the world in which the mind has
its being and performs its acts. Besides these sense-objects, there is a multitude besides,
which make up the background, and the foreground even, of its field of view. In the case
of the nobleman cited, in all his movements to and from the nest of magpies, his thoughts
were occupied with many phantasms which he considered real, and with reference to which he
performed the actions recited. These formed the connecting members and the accompanying
scenery of the sense-objects which he perceived. The fact that sense-objects were blended
with them, served to steady and retard the progress of the dream, and thus to make it regular
and methodical. The feats which the fancy performs, its power of memory, its skill in in-
vention, and its resources of creation, are only the natural results of concentrated attention
upon a few, and these connected objects. These feats are, in considerable measure, accounted
for by that dependence on certain conditions of the body, and the sensations which they give,
which we have already discussed in treating of memory and association. The morbid excite-
ment of some parts of the sensorium and the nervous system, may quicken all the energies
of representation, not only by facilitating concentration, but by bringing back the subjective
bodily sensations which are the most fertile and ready suggestors of fluent images and words.
But this exaltation of the fancy is purchased at the cost of its being limited to but few ob-
jects— to single and spontaneous trains of thought running in the courses started and traced by
the muscular and vital sensations, or the few sense-objects to which the excited senses are awake.
Som of the § 332, *^ne Powers °f sense-perception, so far as they are exerted at all, act
sense - percep- with surprising energy and effect. It is not only a surprising thing that they
surprising should act at all in so profound a sleep ; but that the organ should be more
energy. sensitive and the mind more acute than in the normal condition, is still more
remarkable. But this is often observed in the somnambulist. The objects seen are often seen
by the faintest light, and yet they are seen most clearly, because actions requiring acute vision
of these objects are performed with precision and success. The touch must be acute, or the
somnambulist could not walk so confidently in difficult and dangerous places, nor avoid obsta-
cles so dexterously, nor perform so many nice operations, as in dexterously writing and play-
ing on instruments. The senses of smell and hearing are often uncommonly sensitive to
odors and sounds.
§ 333. The question has sometimes been raised, Whether the somnambulist
nambulist Sper- really perceives with the senses ? It has been argued that he does not, be-
ceive at all with cause he also dreams, and because his dreams furnish the greater number, of
fciie senses I .
the objects of his knowledge and feeling. It has been inferred that, when he
seems to perceive, he only dreams, and that what seem to be the objects of his sense-percep-
tions, serve, through the sense-organs, to form a part of the dreams in which alone he knows
and feels. To this it is sufficient to reply that he certainly acts with reference to the real
world, and that he really acts — i. e., directs the motions of his legs and arms, and uses and
modulates his voice. So far at least as he acts he must have real sensations. What interpre-
tation he puts upon what seem to be his sense-perceptions, is another question. His dream-
objects he believes to be realities and sense-realities. It would seem, then, that, instead
of turning the sense-perceptions into a dream, he exalts dream-objects into sense-percep-
tions, and thus causes both to blend into a consistent whole. The weakness of his judgment
consists in this, that he does not distinguish between the dream and the reality ; but this does
not prove that he does not truly perceive the real objects which address his senses
342 THE HUMAN IjSTELLECT. § 334.
But while the senses are often surprisingly acute, they are both limited and
The sense-tier-
ceptions, though, uncertain in their operation and in their results. The somnambulist sees sur-
acute, are limit- pr^gi^ but he sees on]y certain objects that are present to his bodily vision.
He does not see every thing in the apartment in which he is present, but
only the table, or chairs, or the paper on which he writes, or the candle which he holds.
Those objects which have some relation to his thoughts and actions are the only objects to
which he is sensitively alive. There may be twenty persons before his eyes, but he will not
notice them. If he comes very near them, or they stand in his way, he may see enough of
the objects to know that he must avoid them — i. e., he may see them in their relations to his own
thoughts and actions, but he does not know them as persons, nor recognize them as friends.
So, too, he hears those sounds only which have some concern with himself. If a friend ad-
dresses him in words that have no relation to his dream, he will not even hear the sounds ;
but, if these words respect his thoughts and actions, he hears acutely. The same is true of
smells and tastes. It is also noticed, that only a single sense at a time seems to be active,
according as it is required. As soon as the stimulus or occasion passes by, it is no longer
awake, but relapses into entire insensibility.
The various observations that have been made, warrant the induction that the phantasv
stimulates and awakens the organ of sense, and determines the mind to use it with wakeful
attention. It is the soul itself that quickens the organ thus made ready by disease or weak-
ness for this extraordinary activity, to that momentary excitement which is required to fasten
the mind to its monitions. That the soul, as phantasy, can give additional energy to an organ
of sense, and, so to speak, prepare it for both sense-perception and action, has been already
shown. The apparatus needs only to become abnormally or morbidly sensitive to the percep-
tion of sense-objects — i. e. to be prepared when held to its work by the fixed phantasy — to
account for the extraordinary results of sense-activity which so greatly surprise us in the
various modes and degrees of somnambulism.
This extraordinary exaltation of single senses is not without its analoga in
nary Muteness tne wakeful and normal conditions of the soul. There are occasions when,
not ^without owing to organic excitement, a single sense becomes painfully acute and
sensitive. The concentration of the attention follows as a natural conse-
quence. If the attention is fixed from a merely awakened interest without any quickening
of the organ, whether this is constant or occasional, the results are equally surprising. So
surprising is it, that the vision of the sailor, the lacemaker, the horologist, the hearing of the
sentinel and the hunter, the touch of the blind, the machinist, and the musician, seem to the
stranger to be something almost supernatural. The still higher exaltation of these sense-
powers, in the case of the somnambulist, is on the same ascending line with these natural
variations. It is only extraordinary in degree, as the circumstances are extraordinary in then-
nature and combination.
n ■ i„ § 334. We come next to a subject still more interesting, and, at first sight,
Can tne soin- t . „
namhulist have more puzzling, viz., the apparent increased excitement of intellectual power
tfonse"PewitPh"out as manifested in achievements performed by somnambulists, particularly when
the sense-or- in the mesmeric or exstatic conditions. The first which Ave shall consider is
gans :
the claim for him of the ability to perceive material qualities and objects
without the medium of the organs of sense. For example : it is claimed that he can see near
objects through the thickest bandage, and with the back of the head ; that he can hear by the
epigastrium, etc., etc. It is even asserted that he can see objects a thousand miles distant, and
through the closest and thickest walls, and into the darkest and deepest caverns, etc., etc.
In respect to the first claim, that near objects can be seen or heard inde-
First, of near Pendentlv of tne ear and tlie e?c» we nced only observe that, provided many
objects. 0f the stories are neither false nor exaggerated, not one of them proves that
the mind can have sense-perceptions independently of the nervous organism.
If the story be received as true, that the person has seen (not remembered nor conjectured)
§334. KEPRESENTATION, — THE PHANTASY. 343
through an interposed bandage or by the back of the head, it would still be true that the
optic nerve and the retina might be so morbidly sensitive as to be affected by the light, even
if the eyelids were closed or thickly covered. No fact is more clearly established than that,
within certain limits, one part of the sensorium, or portion of a single system of nerves, can.
ander extraordinary excitement, perform the functions of another. If the theory be accepted,
now so current, that the various sensible qualities are manifested as modes and rates of motion,
it would follow that the response of the sensorium is by answering rates of motion. If the
retina and optic nerves were so sensitive as to respond to these motions or the moving force
which we call light, it might make no difference whether this agent were responded to through
the eye directly or indirectly, provided that the retina and optic apparatus were efficiently
reached and suitably affected. Some analoga to these supposed phenomena are found in the
so-called subjective sensations, which are occasioned by the direct excitement of the nerves by
other media than light, food, odorous substances, etc. It is also to be remembered, that the
sense-perception is not complete in any case till the intellect has interpreted the reports of
sense. How far the mind, in the extraordinary exaltation of the somnambulic state, can pro-
ceed in such a case by feebler reports than those ordinarily furnished, it is not easy to decide.
The second claim is of a power to see distant objects which no sense-power
Second of ob- can reacn> or objects immured in total darkness behind thick and solid walls,
jects remote. Such a power, or its exercise, can be explained by no known powers or laws
of Nature. There is nothing analogous to its possession or its exercise in
any thing which we know in the normal actings of the soul. Whatever the power may be
which acts in this way, it is not vision. The person does not see the object, but if he discerns
any thing, it is a phantasm, an image, or series of images which are purely mental. If there
be any thing which he apprehends, it is a mental object, the production of his own soul. It
exists while he beholds it, within ar.d for his soul alone. If the object or scene has never
been the object of his personal inspection, the pictures which he forms of it must be taken
from materials within his own observation, or imparted by description. If it be the city of
Pekin, or the Himalaya mountains, the picture is composed either of fragments of what he
has seen of New York or Boston, of London or Paris, or the mountains of America, Europe,
or else from some drawings or paintings of the cities or mountains themselves. If it should
be claimed or proved that the picture or scene is original and yet corrresponds to a real
object or objects, then the correspondence must be explained by laws and principles which are
unknown to the psychology of the soul's normal activities. Whether such a correspondence
has ever been established in fact, we will not here discuss.
The third claim for the soul, of a power to understand its own bodily dis-
TMrd, of the orders, as to their seat or cure, may be explained in part by the fact that
body!°r ° * 6 ^e sufferer in. the somnambulic state is far more keenly alive than when
awake, to his own bodily sensations. If an organ is diseased, the disease will
often be manifest by means of sensations which are prominent and unmistakable in the soul's
experience. These are the data for its interpretations or inferences. The disease may have
been an object of intense anxiety and earnest inquiry. He may have more or less knowledge
of the anatomical structure and the natural and diseased functions of many of the organs.
If his attention is directed to certain sensations that are made very positive and intense by his
abnormal sleep, and his intellect is sharpened to divine their seat or their cure, it would not
be surprising if the person should sometimes be successful in his conjectures and prescriptions.
In all these cases the thoughts and conversation of the person, if not his studies, will have
been occupied with different affections of the several organs, their signs and cures, so that,
in a certain sense, he has become a student of medicine, though not scientifically trained. It
will always be found to be true, in such cases, that the insight of the somnambulist in respect
to the names of the organs and their functions, does not go a step beyond what he has learned
by conversation or reading. Let him be ever so gifted, he will not learn the nature or the
name of a single organ, or its office, or a single remedy, which has not been made known
344 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §335
to him in wakefulness and health. If this is so, the case is reduced to extraordinary sagacity
exercised upon data or knowledge communicated or impressed in an extraordinary manner.
The claim that the somnambulist can see into the condition of the body of another, has
already been considered.
§ 335. Fourth, the exaltation of the higher intellect to the capacity to per-
fxtraOTdinary161* ^orm some vei7 extraordinary achievements, remains to be considered. This
intellectual ac- is much more remarkable in the morbid than in the natural somnambulism,
tivities.
The somnambulist sometimes displays great acuteness of judgment. He sees
resemblances and differences which had not occurred to him in his waking states, and which
astonish lookers-on. He is quick in repartee ; solves difficult problems ; he composes and
speaks with method and effect ; he reasons acutely ; he interprets character with rare subtlety ;
he understands passing events with unusual insight ; he predicts those which are to come by
skilful forecast. In the eyes of the persons who have known him in his waking condition, he
appears to be another person, endowed with new gifts, or quickened by some extraordinary
inspiration. How are those phenomena to be explained ?
We reply : By the excitement of the intellect from an intense interest in the
His attention is subject-matter with which it is occupied, the concentration of the attention
concentrated. for a long time upon a few objects only and a few of their relations, and the
previous familiarity of the mind with these objects and relations. That the
mind occasionally acts with energy when in the dream-state, even in its highest functions, has
already been noticed. That, when it thinks and reasons in somnambulism, it is animated by
strong excitement arising from a strong interest in the subject-matter, is obvious to all, and
will not be questioned. So warm is the interest, that, at times, the subject of it seems almost
to live in the objects and thoughts which occupy him. All his energy of feeling is elicited
by them, and, of consequence, all his force of thought is devoted to them. Such concentra-
tion, awakened by excitement, is often the one condition of successful effort. If it can be
imparted to an intellect that seemed torpid and feeble, it imparts to it new energy and success.
A mind once thoroughly aroused is furnished with triple power.
Next, the attention is concentrated upon objects for a sufficient length of time
And occupied to secure entire familiarity with them and their relations. The attention of
with few objects, the somnambulist is limited, as we have seen, to but few sense-objects. To
all other objects except those which excite this or that sense, it is deaf
and blind. The phantasms which make up its dream are but few. Upon these it dwells, and
to these it continually returns, till they become altogether familiar in all the few aspects
and relations which concern his dream. From all the rest of the world he is shut out, being
held for continuance to this limited field of view, and detained before it by the sense-objects
to which his dream is related. ,
Last of all, the sense-objects and the dream-objects are ordinarily very fainil-
Also with famil- *ar* ^eJ bave Previously Deen tne frequent object of thought and specula-
iar objects. tion. The questions for which he finds new answers, the problems for which
he devises new solutions, the events or characters upon which he casts a new
light, are not for the first time before his mind. The operations of his intellect are also all in
the line of his previous efforts and training. The somnambulist does not for the first time
appear as a mathematician, poet, orator, politician, or divine ; nor does he display activities
which have not been in their quality and kind, though not in degree, familiar to his use. Even
the very subjects upon which he displays extraordinary wisdom or wit, are usually known to
have engaged his previous thoughts, and to have received earnest and frequent attention. This
previous thinking has prepared him to discern new relations, to form new judgments, or to
arrange in new combinations matter that had already been familiar to his thoughts. It is not
out of analogy to the processes and laws of the mind in the waking state, that, under strong
excitement, with necessarily limited attention and upon familiar objects, it should rise to ex-
traordinary achievements. But extraordinary as they are, their very extraordinary character
§336. KEPKESENTATION. THE PHANTASY. 3 ic
reveals the very limitations which are their condition. Its triumphant feats are not onlj
counterbalanced by, but they are dependent upon degrading and limiting concessions.
Moreover, these efforts themselves are single and isolated sallies of subtlety
The efforts are and insight, rather than sustained and connected trains of judgment and
E^gle.°na an reasoning. They are narrow rather than comprehensive, acute rather than
far-reaching, exceptional rather than uniform, surprising rather than trust
worthy. Whatever may be their rank as evidences of genius, or their value when used by
another mind, they avail little or nothing to the person himself for his future use and guidance,
because they are not connected with his previous thoughts or his permanent acquisitions.
The gift of divination, or prophecy, which is claimed for the somnambulist,
The power of whenever it deserves consideration, is explained in part by the extraordinary
prophecy!1 an sagacity which is developed in respect to subjects that are interesting and
familiar to the mind. The somnambulist forecasts or prophesies, by reason-
ing upon the evidences before him. His attention being fixed and his interest being aroused,
he applies his intellectual force to the subjects before him, and shows the same sagacity in
foreseeing future results that he exhibits in interpreting events that are present ; by the
causes, the laws, and principles that are concerned in bringing them to pass. Other of bis
conjectures which are confirmed by the results, may be ascribed to accidental coincidences in
cases in which but few alternatives were possible. Psychology can go no further in explaining
such events by the known operations and laws of the soul of man. A rational philosophy
does not deny the possibility of supernatural aid or guidance in foresight of the future, when-
ever there is worthy occasion for such interference — i. <?., whenever there is an end sufficiently
important to warrant its use. But it forbids the belief that it is imparted for trivial or un-
worthy objects, or on common occasions.
One or two other features common to all the varieties of somnambulism remain to be noticed.
§ 336. First, the somnambulist, when he wakes, usually, though not invari-
H^usu^uTfor- akty> forgets his actions, perceptions, and thoughts during sleep. His dream,
gets his dream with all that it involves, is to him an empty blank. To many, this seems
incredible ; to others, it is an insoluble mystery. That it is not incredible, is
established by the amount of decisive evidence which is adduced of its actual occurrence.
That it is not inexplicable, appears from analogous phenomena in dream-life, as well as from
the dissimilarity of the conditions of mental activity in the waking and the somnambulic
6tate. The dreams of the profoundest sleep are rarely remembered, for the reason that the
bodily condition, with all the sensations which it involves, is, in many respects, very unlike
that which attends our lighter slumbers and our waking states. The sensations which accom-
pany these varying conditions, as has been shown, are an essential element in our mental
experiences. If the phantasy is active, they are the essential conditions of its activity in any
determinate direction. For this reason, these bodily sensations direct the course and furnish
the occasions for many of our dreams. But in somnambulism these sensations are more
controlling and more unique than in any other dreaming or in any other sleep. Whatever
else there may be which awakens and directs the phantasy is, if possible, still more unlike
any other experiences of wakefulness or sleep. If the transition from ordinary sleep and
ordinary dreams to wakefulness is often so abrupt and complete as to involve entire oblivion
of all which we have thought, or felt, or done, it is less surprising that, when we awake from
the sleep of somnambulism, whether the transition be sudden or gradual, it is so complete
that the present has no relation to the past. For the functions of memory it is as though we
bad entered a new world, or begun a new existence. Our bodily experiences, the objects
which we discern, the feelings which we experience, and the acts which we perform, are all so
peculiar, that we do not remember our own selves. We do not, for the reason that what
constitutes ourselves — i. e., our experience of states of feeling and thought — in the two cases,
is greatly unlike. From those obscure bodily sensations which we can distinguish or define,
up to the most obtrusive objects of sense and consciousness, with the imagery of phantasy
346 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 338
which they suggest, the springs of activity, the materials for feeling, and the objects of
thought, are so diverse, that the man in the one condition, does not remember himself in the
other.
§ 337. These considerations both explain and confirm the second fact that has
r^tre^HibTrsa sometimes been observed, viz. : that the somnambulist, when he passes
previous som- into a succeeding condition of abnormal activity, remembers the experiences,
nambulic state. , '-...'■• ,■,„», V,
and, as it were, remembers the self of the preceding states. How this
should be possible, most clearly appears from the principles already laid down : The objects
of thought and memory, the motives and directors of action which were present in the
previous condition, return to him a second time, and they bring with them their attendant
experiences. "When the soul passes a second time into the surroundings of his abnormal
being, they are no longer strange, but he recognizes them as familiar, and, taking up new
threads of memory, he recalls his preceding dream.
Some remarkable instances are recorded of alternating states, in each of
Capacity for al- which the acquisitions, the capacities, the employments, were unlike those
and activities. ^n *ne other, and yet, as the similar states recurred at intervals, they were
connected by continuity of memory.
One instance is described as follows : " The patient was a young lady of cultivated mind, and the
affection began with an attack of somnolency, which was protracted several hours beyond the usual time.
"When she came out of it, she was found to have lost every kind of acquired knowledge. She immediately
began to apply herself to the first elements of education, and was making considerable progress, when, after
several months, she was seized with a second fit of somnolency. She was now at once restored to all the
knowledge which she possessed before the first attack, but without the least recollection of any thing that
had taken place during the interval. After another interval, she had a third attack of somnolency, which
left her in the same state as after the first. In this manner she suffered these alternate conditions for a
period of four years, with the very remarkable circumstance that, during the one state, she retained all her
original knowledge ; but, during the other, that only which she had acquired since the first attack. During
the healthy interval, she was remarkable for the beauty of her penmanship, but, during the paroxysm,
wrote a poor, awkward hand. Persons introduced to her during the paroxysm, she recognized only in a
subsequent paroxysm, but not in the interval ; and persons whom she had seen for the first time during
the healthy interval, she did not recognize during the attack." (Abercrombie, Inquiries, etc., p. iii. § iv.)
§ 338. Certain peculiar features of the artificial somnambulism, remain to
somnambu- be noticed. Its distinguishing feature is, that it is induced by the inter-
b^the ^encv venti°n °f another person, who, by means of passes or other appliances,
of another per- brings the subject into a sleep and dream, the processes and objects of
which he directs, and from which he awakes him at his own will. Hence it
is called artificial, as effected by another, in distinction from the natural, which is induced by
ordinary sleep, and the morbid, which is the incident of active disease. It is also called the
magnetic sleep. It originally received this appellation, because it was supposed to be pro-
duced by a magnetic influence, generated by or attendant upon all the animal functions. This
influence was supposed to be generated or accumulated in some persons in larger quantities
than in others, and to be emitted by them at their will in such a way as to affect a correspond-
ent receptive force in others, who are thereby subject to any influence which is emitted from
the more highly magnetized person. The influence in question was supposed to be akin to
the magnetic force which pervades the earth, and inorganic matter generally. The appellation'
is retained by those who do not receive the theory on which it was originally employed.
Traces of this doctrine may be found in the wrilings of Paracelsus. It was received also by the
Rosecrucians, favored by Goclenius, Van Helmont, Robert Fludd, and many others.
The most notorious practitioner of the art in modern times was Mesmer, who expounded the doctrine
of animal magnetism as already explained, and practised it with abundant apparatus, designed to collect
and control the so-called magnetic influence with the aid also of many appliances addressed to the imagin-
ation, and which were fitted to invest his person and his processes with greater mystery. M. de Puys6gur,
following Mesmer, abandoned the use of magnets, etc., and relied on passes or motions of the hand to pro-
duce the so-called magnetic effects, and this gave the new form to the practice of the art which has ever
since been followed.
I 340. REPRESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 34"
§ 339. There is still another condition called hypnotism, or the hypnotit
Hypnotism ex- state> wfticn may be properly called the artificial sleep as distinguished from
plained. the artificial somnambulism — i. e., the artificial dream. It is like somnam-
bulism, as produced by the agency of another, and as being under the control
of the producing agent. The connection of the mind of the operator with the mind and the
actions of the subject, is not so manifest, or is not always carried so far as is claimed for the
other. It is however so like it in every essential feature, as to deserve to be considered as at
least a lower degree of artificial somnambulism.
The name hypnotism was first applied to this state by James Braid, M. D., etc., etc., a distinguished
physician, of Manchester, England. As the result of a series of experiments which he instituted to test the
doctrines of Reichenbach, as laid down in his Researches on Magnetism, in support of a new imponderable
which should explain the phenomena of animal magnetism, Dr. Braid discovered that he could induce an
ai-tificial sleep upon susceptible patients, by fixing the attention of the eye upon a bright object, without
the instrumentality of passes. This sleep, in his view, is the result of a congestion of the organ of vision
and of a part of the brain. It is partial only, and leaves a part of the system open to sensible impressions, so
that it is possible for the operator to maintain some communication with the subject of it by words and signs.
The production of this sleep, and the processes which occur while it is going forward, are considered by Dr.
B. as examples of the control of the body by the mind. The direction of the attention to the several organs
and other parts of the body, results : first, in a greater excitement of their normal activity ; second, in
illusions of sense-objects when the attention is stimulated by the imagination of the subject and the voico
of the operator ; third, in a congestion terminating in an abnormal sleep, which can be directed and con-
trolled by the operator. Dr. B. supposes that, as the result of long practice, this sleep may be voluntarily
assumed and continued for several days, forming what he calls " human hybernation." See Hypnotism, or
Nervous Sleep considered in relation with Animal Magnetism or Mesmerism ; also, the Power of the Mind
over the Body, etc., etc. See also Uilectro-dynamisme vital, par J. P. Philips.
For the purposes which we have in view, hypnotism and artificial somnam ■
How related to bulism or mesmerism, may be considered as one. The states so designated
somnambulism, have the following features : Artificial sleep ; entire or total insensibility of
some of the sense-organs ; an unnatural excitement and acuteness of others ; the
capacity to maintain some relation with the operator, so that the sleep and the dreams of the*
subject are under his exclusive direction and control. All these phenomena, with one appa-
rent exception, are analogous to those of the forms of somnambulism already considered.
The production of the sleep is the result of an excitement of some of the sense-organs or
parts of the nervous system, initiated by exciting and fixing the attention of a susceptible
patient, by the aid of a strong will and the energetic activity of the operator. The physical
and immediate cause of the sleep is common to all the cases. It is the congestion of the
brain. The occasions or causes of the congestion are diverse. In natural somnambulism, it
is an incident of ordinary sleep in a person of sensitive organism. In morbid somnambulism,
it is an attendant of active nervous disease. In the artificial, the congestion is the result of
the attention of the patient leading to excessive physical excitement of some part of the
8ensorium.
§ 340. In this form of somnambulism, the feature which is at once the most
How one mind distinctive and the most difficult to explain is the control of one mind by
another.0 * * another. While the patient is inaccessible to communications from every
other person, he is open both to communications and impressions from the
operator. Not only is he open to communications from him, but he is also in a considerable
degree subject to his control. The senses and the attention are both sealed to words and
6igns from every one besides, but they respond with unnatural sensibility to the slightest inti-
mations from a single person. To many this seems incredible, and they reject all testimony
in its support as unworthy of confidence. To others it is an enigma, which cannot be
explained by any of the known laws of the soul's activity.
If, however, we consider the phenomena of natural somnambulism, or even those of the
common dream we shall find some striking points of resemblance. In both these conditions
great insensibility of certain powers is conjoined with extreme sensitiveness of others. The
348 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §342.
dreamer and the somnambulist are dead in some of their senses and comparatively alert and
active in others. The phantasy of both is active. To ordinary persons any approach to their
inner life is entirely precluded. But to the observer who understands the habits, or can inter-
pret the dream of either, it is not difficult to gain the attention, to institute and maintain
conversation, to effect a communication with the thoughts, to give positive direction and
control to the thoughts, and, through the thoughts, to the feelings. No feature of a person
in this condition is so striking as the entire and helpless dependence of some of his powers
on other persons for stimulus and guidance, and the passiveness with which both the senses
and the fancy respond to their suggestions, and assent to their assertions.
In the artificial somnambulism these extremes are intensified. The natural equilibrium is
more effectually disturbed than in the state just described. The insensibility of some of the
powers, and the sensitiveness of others, are heightened. This condition is induced by processes
that bring the operator prominently before the attention of the subject, and connect him with
the trains of thought which his phantasy pursues. The subject falls asleep with his eye fixed
upon the operator, by obeying directions which fell from his lips, and following motions
and signs which engrossed his own attention. When the sleep is effected, it is in its nature but
partial. A portion only of his powers are awake, and, by concession, are morbidly and
sensitively alive to their appropriate impressions. It is not unnatural, rather is it most
natural and reasonable, to expect that these so sensitive powers would respond to the voice
and even to the tones of the one person to whom the patient had passively surrendered in the
beginning of the process ; that indications which escape the notice of ordinary observers,
should be intelligible and patent for him, and that, when these indications are conveyed, they
should control all his movements of thought and feeling. It is credible that the pictures
before the fancy of the operator should be awakened in his own, and that his positive assertion
should not only be taken as proof of their real existence, but should cause the subject
to believe that his own senses perceive them, so that he should believe he sees a mountain,
a house, brilliant colors, smoke, flame, etc., etc., at the will of the operator who dominates
over his fancy.
§ 341. There are not a few who require us to believe more and to explain
Still higher ^urt^er than we have already done. They assert that the operator cannot
claims. only connect himself with the mind of his subject by the ordinary media of
communication and direction, but that he can do so by what, to the senses,
seems to be no medium at all, but which they assert is an impalpable, magnetic fluid. At all
events, they insist on the fact that the operator can direct the thoughts and control the phan-
tasy of the subject simply by willing to do so. They contend that his thoughts are followed
by those of his subject by becoming the object of his direct insight ; that the pictures of his
fancy are revealed to him as realities ; so that, whatever scenes he conjures up before the
imagination, he can will to become realities to the patient with whom he is in complete
rapport. If these are facts, we are free to confess that they cannot be explained by the
principles and the laws of the ordinary psychology. On the other hand, this psychology can
go far toward explaining why what is credible, as already accounted for, should be mistaken in
the way we have described. It is not difficult for us to understand or believe that, to a person
so sensitive to impressions as the subject manifestly is, many intimations would be effective
which escape the observation of uncritical observers, if we say nothing of the deceptions
which are the result of charlatanism and collusion. The balance of probability may be fairly
said to be on the side of the version which we have given of the facts, and their possible
explanation.
§ 342. Our discussion of the phantasy would not be complete, if we omitted
n a 1 1 u c i n a - to notice the phenomena of hallucinations, and spectral apparitions or
ri\ions'etcf>Pa" illusions. A distinction should be made between the proper images of the
phantasy, when mistaken for or believed to be realities, as by the dreamer
and thfi somnambulist, and the actual vision of images in the formation of which the sonses
§342. REPRESENTATION. THE PHANTASY. • 349
cooperate, such as occur to persons in a morbid condition when they are broadly awake, aa
also to those attacked by fever, or to such as suffer from the effects of certain narcotics or
intoxicating drugs. One of the most remarkable cases of continued exposure to such visita-
tions, is that recorded of himself by the celebrated Nicolai of Berlin in the Transactions oj
the Royal Society of Berlin, for 1799. We copy the translation in Nicholson's Journal, vol
vi. p. 161 :
" During the latter six months of the year 1790, I had endured griefs that most deeply affected me.
Dr. Selle, who was accustomed to hleed me twice a year, had deemed it advisable to do so but once. On the
21th of February, 1791, after a sharp altercation, I suddenly perceived, at the distance of ten paces, a dead
body, and inquired of my wife if she did not see it. My question alarmed her much, and she hastened to
send for a doctor. The apparition lasted eight minutes. At four in the afternoon, the 6ame vision re-
appeared. I was then alone. Much disturbed by it, I went to my wife's apartments. The vision fol-
lowed me. "When the first alarm had subsided, I watched the phantoms, taking them for what they
really were— the results of an indisposition. Pull of this idea, I carefully examined them, endeavoring to
trace by what association of ideas these forms were presented to my imagination. I could not, however,
connect them with my occupations, my thoughts, or my works. On the following day, the figure of the
corpse disappeared, but was replaced by a great many other figures, representing sometimes friends, but
more generally strangers. None of my intimate friends were among these apparitions, which were almost
exclusively composed of individuals inhabiting places more or less distant. I attempted to produce at will
persons of my acquaintance, by an intense objectivity of their persons ; but although I could see two or
three of them distinctly in my mind, I could not succeed in making exterior the interior perception,
although I had before seen them afresh when not thinking of them. The disposition of my mind prevented
me from confounding these false appearances with reality.
These visions were as clear and distinct in solitude as in company— by day as by night— in the street
as in the house ; they were only less frequent at the houses of others. "When I closed my eyes they some-
times disappeared, although there were cases in which they were visible ; but eo soon as I opened them,
they reappeared immediately. * * * *
About four weeks afterward, the number of these apparitions increased. I began to hear them speak.
Sometimes they conversed together, but more generally addressed their conversation to me, which was
brief and agreeable. At different times I considered them as tender friends, who sought to soften my
griefs.
Although at this period I was well, both in body and mind, and these spectres had become so familiar
as not to cause me the slightest uneasiness, I nevertheless endeavored to dispel them by suitable remedies.
It was resolved that an application of leeches should be made, which was accordingly done on the 20th
April, at 11, a. m. The surgeon was alone with me. During the operation, my chamber was filled with
human figures of all kixds. This hallucination continued uninterruptedly until half after four, at which
time digestion commenced. I then observed that the movements of these phantoms became slower. They
shortly began to grow paler, and at seven o'clock, had become perfectly white. Their movements were
rather more rapid, although their forms were as distinct as before. By degrees they became more misty,
and appeared to melt into air, although some were still apparent for a considerable length of time. By
eight, the room was entirely cleared of these fantastic visitors. Since then I have several times thought
that the visions were about to return, but they have not."
The case of Nicolai is by no means solitary. There are not a few persons of sensitive
organization who occasionally see distinct images, visions, and phantasms of real objects,
which have distinct form, distinguishable color, and a certain permanent endurance like
objects actually seen. These phantasms, moreover, take their place in relation to real objects.
They are seated in chairs, they stand by the bedside, they look through the window, and have
the dimensions which are suitable to their place and their distance from the observer. If the
judgment of the subject of them is clear, and his self-command complete, he knows they are
not real objects, even though he cannot remove them. (Cf. Hallucinations, or the Rational
History of Apparitions, Visions, etc., etc., by A. Brierre de Boismont, Phil. 1853.)
These phantasms are much more frequent in transient delirium from fever, or permanent
insanity. They are the almost invariable result of a variety of drugs, as opium, hasheesh
{Cannabis Indica), and stramonium. They are the fearful attendants of that irregularity of
nervous action which is the consequence of excess in the use of intoxicating liquors. It is
noticeable that phantasms of a certain description are peculiar to each of these drugs, as well
as to the delirium tremens. These phantasms are not confined to vision alone. The other
senses have their appropriate phantasms ; the ear has sounds, the touch various feelings, and
350 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §344
the nostrils distinguishable odors. None of these, however, are as definite, as permanent, or
as clearly distinguishable as the phantasms of vision.
§ 343. It is important to distinguish these phantasms or apparitions from the
tions and spec- images of the phantasy proper. Unless we do, we cannot clearly understand or
cat' representa- interpret the phenomena of delirium, and certain other forms of mental
tions- aberration. Two agencies concur in their production — the action of the
phantasy by means of the spiritual image, and that of the sense-organ which is appropriately
concerned. It has already been observed, that when even a sense-object is imaged, especially
if it be vividly and continuously pictured by the phantasy, as a sound or sight, the mind's
attention to it tends to awaken a sympathetic activity of the sense-organ by which the object
was originally perceived. By this provision the organs are enabled to act more promptly in
case of a second perception, the phantasy working in aid of perception. It is a part of the
same provision that the emotions appropriate to both images and objects are called forth, and
the emotion or feeling appropriate, both tend to excite and fix the sense-organ to a more
energetic sense-perception. By reaction, also, the sense and locomotive organs, when placed
in the required attitude, act in their turn upon the phantasy, so that the assumption of an
attitude, the adjustment of the features to the expression of an emotion, or the exercise of a
perception, carries with itself a strong tendency toward the feeling or act that is appropriate.
Again, in the sense-organism psychologically considered, there is a tendency to be excited
or impressed a second time without a sense-object, in a manner similar to that which the
presence of the object originally occasioned. Sometimes, in conditions of the system not
known to be abnormal, this excitement goes so far as to give to the mind all the conditions
of transient sense-perception. As a consequence, the mind has actual percepts without
material objects, especially on waking from sleep. The mind sees colored spectra, and hears
sounds when there are no material things or objects to be seen or heard. These occasional
phenomena clearly establish the truth that the sense-organism, without the stimulus of an
object, can be brought into a condition nearly allied to that to which it is excited by that
object. Whether the excitement is mental or physical, is of little import, provided that the
excitement is furnished. Let, now, the sense-organism be in a condition of morbid sensibility,
and let the phantasy be also morbidly aroused, and it is not unnatural that phantasms should
take material forms or be invested with material qualities ; nor is it surprising that, with the
action and reaction of mind and body, these should seem for an instant to be real, until the
judgment corrects the half-formed inference. But let the judgment itself be disturbed by
more serious disarrangements of the nervous system ; let the conditions of attentive com-
parison, continuity of memory and of thought, all be disturbed, as is the case in many forms
of delirium, and the raving madness which sees nothing but phantasms where it ought to see
realities, or which invests the real objects of sense with fantastic shapes and attributes, are
fully explained (cf. §§ 109, 2Z1).
§ 344. It is no part of our duty to give a scientific theory of insanity. We
have only attempted to explain the part which the phantasy has in the mental
nsam J' operations, under this condition of irregular psychical activity. We ought
also to add, that it is by no means universally the case that the insane are
haunted with phantasms. It often happens that insanity is the result of mere mental con-
fusion or distraction, such as may result from the excessive rapidity or the excessive pre-
ponderance of certain organic or vital sense-perceptions. These may so distract or preoccupy
the attention, as to preclude the possibility of a cool judgment or a controlled activity in
respect to any matter whatever. In such cases, the phantasy, as well as the perceptions, are
either so hurried and flighty, or so fixed and recurring, that the activities of memory, com-
parison, and judgment are all untrustworthy. Or, again, the mind, and not the body, under
some overmastering passion, has given to phantasy such complete control over the other
powers, as to disturb the equilibrium of spiritual activity. In these cases the phenomena are
purely mental. The sense-perceptions are correctly made. The vision is disturbed by no
§ 34' EEPEESENTATION. THE IMAGINATION. 351
spectr There are no special disturbances of the bodily sensations. But the mind is
occup"*d with inferences incorrectly derived from its past experiences or its present condition.
It is haunted with depressing images, or gloomy forebodings. Its distracted phantasy is so
overpowered as to set at naught the testimony of the senses, the asseverations of trusted
friends, the conclusions of its own better judgment, the principles, the faith, and the hopes which
had been the soul's support and guide. (Cf. J. E. Purkinje, Wachen, Schlaf, Traumen, in
Wagner's H.-W.-B. ; W. B. Carpenter, Sleep, in Todd's Cyc. ; A. Lemoine, Du Sommeil an
point de vue Physiologique et Psychologique, Paris, 1865 ; M. L. F. A. Maury, Le Sommeil et les
Reves, etc., Paris, 1862 ; Dr. Lyon Playfair, On Sleep, etc., Northern Journal of Medicine,
1844 ; A. Durham, Tlie State of the Brain during Sleep, Guy's Hospital Reports, 3d series,
vol. vi. 1866 ; A. Brierre de Boismont, Hallucinations, etc. (translated from the French), Phil
1853 ; W. Griesinger, Mental Pathology and Therapeutics (from the German), Lond. 1867 ;
H. Maudsley, The Physiology and Pathology of the Mind, New York, 1867).
CHAPTER VI.
EEPEESENTATION. (3.) THE IMAGINATION OE CREATIVE POWEE.
From the phantasy, the most passive form and exercise of representation, we proceed to the
imagination, its most active and elevated energy. In phantasy, representation sinks into
an almost unconscious agency, that owns no allegiance to reason or intelligence. In
imagination, it is elevated to the intelligent service of feeling and thought, of duty and
religion ; and gives birth to the noblest products of poetry, science, and art.
subject and § 345- In treatmg of the creative imagination, we shall
method of in- grs^ consider the general characteristics, conditions, and *
laws, which are common to this power in all its phases and
degrees of activity, and then the special forms in which it is manifested.
The field of inquiry is very wide, and it includes subjects of varied in-
terest. It includes all those processes in which man rises above the
position of a simple coypist from nature and experience,, and in any
sense originates new products. The appellations in common use to desig-
nate these processes, or the capacities for their exercise, as fancy, imagi-
nation, invention, reverie, are not applied with technical exactness, nor do
they answer the ends of a philosophical explanation. They do not satis-
factorily define the processes nor the powers, nor divide them by lines
that are distinct and clear ; nor do they explain their products by their
real principles and laws. And yet we are obliged to use and recognize
them, for they are too closely intertwined with our common speech, to be
laid aside or displaced.
conditions and ^ur first duty ^ to consider the conditions, laws, and char-
mon^the^im- acteristics which are common to the creative imagination.
agination. ^e as]^ grs^ 0f a]^ what are the materials which are fur-
nished to this power from nature and experience, and which it is forced
352 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §345.
to make use of in all its creations ? In answer to this general question,
we would say :
1. Space and time are always employed in these processes,
Space and time, and always appear in their products. The objects that are
conceived, whether by the poet, the dramatist, or the inventor,
as forming the scenes in which their personages, materials, or machinery
are introduced, or within which they are conceived, are invariably sub-
jected to the laws and relations of space. The acts and events which are
described or imagined, all take place under the conditions of time. They
precede and follow one another. They are either present, past, or future.
The world of the imagination is always a world of imagined space and
imagined time, as the world of reality is a world of real space and of
real time.
2. The necessary and universal thought-conceptions and re-
Thought concep- _ . _ , . _ . -, , • ,
tjons and reia- lations under which we cognize real beings, are always
supposed and employed. Every being and thing which we
imagine, we imagine more or less distinctly, as substance with attributes,
as cause and effect under proper conditions, and as means and ends. These
original intuitions and relations, under which we view and by which we
connect the parts of the existing world of matter and spirit, must all be
introduced and observed in the world which we create. Every one of
them must be used, or the work would not be rational ; but not a single new
one can be suggested or evoked by the utmost energy of the creative power.
It is not intended that the imagination should picture these in their abstract form. They
cannot be imaged, any more than they can be perceived by sense or consciousness. But as
concrete objects can be perceived only under these relations when they are imaged, they can
and must be imaged as observing them. To these conceptions and laws we subject the whole
realm of imagined beings, precisely as we subject to them the real world, whether of matter
or spirit. But we cannot, by any creative energy, add a single new thought- conception or
suggest a single new thought-relation.
Theima ination &'■ ^e Pagination 1S limited to the material qualities which
limited to mate- nature furnishes. We cannot create or conceive of new
rial qualities.
colors by any exertion of creative energy. Hume and Tetens
both suggest, that if the imagination were furnished with the colors blue
and yellow, it could, by combining the two, image the color green, with-
out ever having seen it. The mistake is twofold. The eye does not see
the blue and yellow in the green, but the product which results from the
combination of the two. The imagination cannot go beyond what the
bodily eye furnishes.
In a similar way, the imagination is limited with respect to all the simple qualities of
sense, to tastes, and sounds, and odors, and tactual feels, In cases when a new percept or
property, as a taste, or sound, or color, seems to be invented by art, the imagination can only
anticipate the result of its devising, by a likeness or analogy to some remembered experience}
but it cannot image beforehand the product itself.
§346. REPKESENTATION. — THE IMAGINATION. 353
Limited also to 4# ^n l^e manner, the imagination is limited to the spiritua,
powers spiritual phenomena and processes which consciousness reveals, as well
as to the kinds of powers which these processes suppose.
What it is to know, and feel, and will, we know by the varieties of oui
own experience ; and what a being is who can exert these activities, we
are taught by consciousness. In this way we learn what are the acts, and
products, and capacities of spirit.
No effort at creation or construction will enable us to originate a single additional power
or product beyond these limits, nor a spiritual agent that does not possess these or like
endowments. If we imagine the spirit of a brute, and its actings, and seek to enter into its
consciousness, we imagine it as possessing some of these powers at least, with limited energies
and products. As we ascend into the thoughts and feelings of higher spirits, we reverse the
process.
These are the varied materials which are furnished for the service
and use of the creative power — the world of matter and the world of
spirit, with their wealth and variety of things, agents, and events, limited
by the finite relations and connections of space and time, subjected to the
conditions of thought-knowledge, or of rational combination and analysis.
These materials are all gathered from the experience of each individual,
and may be ^presented by the laws of association, for the moulding and
plastic energy of the creative function.
it creates new § 346. We inquire, second, What new products can be
Fation° to space evolved and created out of these materials by the imagina-
tion proper ? We follow the order of the topics already
adopted.
(1.) In respect to space and time, though we cannot imagine objects to
exist nor events to occur out of relation to each or to both, yet we can
imagine them to bear relations to them, to which there is no type of
reality. The variety of actual relations of this kind is vast, yet limited.
Above all these, the imagination rises, and beyond all these it soars, fo lin-
ing for itself, at its will and what it will, out of the immeasurably vaster
range of possible relations.
We take a few examples of the changes which it makes in the size of objects
In the size of The types of animals actually existing, as of the horse, the man, the elephant,
material objects. and the mouse) \\e within certain extremes, the greatest and least of their
kind ever known. The imagination scorns these limits, and it can give us
horses of every size, from the ponies of Queen Mab up to steeds large enough for the uses of
a giant. It can create men smaller than the Lilliputian, and larger than the contrasted Brob-
dignags. It can make elephants smaller than mice, and mice larger than elephants.
Again, the position or situation of objects is determined by the character of
In their relative tne*r material an(* the laws of nature. Mountains hold a certain relation to
position. vallies, streams to meadows, groves to lawns, houses to gardens, cities to
harbors, roads, and rivers ; so that, where we find the one, we expect to find
the other. But the imagination acknowledges none of these relations or laws of combining
or conjoining objects in space. While it must imagine them all spatial, it can place them as
23
354 THE IIUMAX INTELLECT. § 347.
it will in space. It can plant a garden in a desert a thousand leagues from a dwelling of man.
Tt can build and people a city, without harbor, river, or road. In its grouping of copse and
lawn, and of meadows and streams, it can conceive of combinations and contrasts more pic-
turesque than were ever effected at Chatsworth or at Kew.
There are fixed forms of objects in nature, as the drooping
rial forms! ma ^ elm, the aspiring pine, the umbrageous beech, the massive
and gnarled oak. In rock and mountain, certain types are
ever recurring. The same is true of the form of the horse, the deer, the
dog, and of man himself. But the imagination can draw more graceful
lines than nature has ever shaped, the material with which she works
being more intractable, and the action of staining and decomposing ele-
ments being inevitable. Following her idealizing images, art has given us
the Egyptian tomb and pyramid, the Chinese pagoda, the Grecian temple,
and the Gothic cathedral, none of which are copied from nature, though all
have been suggested by her forms.
In one aspect they surpass nature, for their lines are more consummately drawn, and their
forms are moulded more perfectly. We even measure nature by what art has done, and com-
mend her by epithets taken from art. We say of the stem of the pine or the elm, It shoots
up like a pillar. We call the forest a " pillared shade." We say of a man, He stands like a
statue ; or, He is an Apollo, for graceful strength ; She is a Yenus, for beauty.
In time, also, the imagination has boundless range. It must
latfonfof time?" represent all actions and events, as either note, before, or
after, yet it can do as it pleases as to which shall be note,
before, or after. Nature, in these relations, acts after its own laws and
within its own limits. The imagination can override them all, and ac-
cordingly she can make Puck " put a girdle round about the earth in forty
minutes," and Uriel " glide on a sunbeam," " swift as a shooting star."
§ 347. There are also special creations which the imagina-
It creates mathe- " e . . . , .
maticai entities, tion forms and constructs, oi which, space and time are
assumed as the only required conditions. Let all material
existences be conceived to cease to be, leaving only an empty void within
any limits which may be supposed, and in that void which is feigned, the
imagination can construct the surface with its ever-varied outlines, and
the solid of every conceivable form. These are purely mental construc-
tions, and exist only for the mind and by the mind which forms them.
Their form may be suggested by certain material things with which we are
conversant. The uneven sides of material solids may prompt the imagi-
nation to conceive an extended surface that is perfectly plane or even.
The irregular edge which is formed by the junction of two uneven sides,
may excite it to conceive the mental line that is " the shortest distance
between two points." The material may suggest the mental solid, which
the imagination frames. But the line, the surface, and the solid con-
structed by the mind, are far more perfectly drawn and moulded than
i\
§ 349. REPRESENTATION. THE IMAGINATION. 355
nature has ever furnished in material objects, or than art has imitated
with material instruments.
Should it be conceded that these creations of the imagination are not the ideal point, line.
And surface with which the mathematician is conversant, they certainly quite surpass the coarser
products of nature and art.
These constructions can be combined and divided by the same power that forms them
Thus, an imaginary line can be prolonged, imaginary surfaces can be adjoined, imaginary
solids can be piled together, without limit in direction or form.
The imagination can also sweep all actual events and
and algebra1**10 phenomena from the line of time, and then plant along its
course the shadows of events that shall only symbolize or re-
present its successive intervals or instants. It can also group and combine
these as it will. Real events, as they precede and follow one another,
may incite to these acts of pure construction ; but the acts and the prod-
ucts which they excite and suggest are to be referred to the creative
energy of the imagination. What relations these hold to the distinctions
of number, will be discussed in the proper place (§ 561).
in matter, it §348. (2.) In the world of matter, the imagination can create
combSS ar5?arts n0 new material, but it can divide and combine the parts of
and properties. ^e material things with which it is familiar, so as to form
new existences.
The head and trunk of a man it can fit to the shoulders and body of a horse. It can
form a mermaid — part woman, part fish. It can provide men, women, and children with
wings, and turn them into angels and cherubs. It can represent any animal with a human
head. It can add to the head of a man the ears of an ass, and give to another the mouth and
nose, of a puppy.
It can connect the part or the whole of any plant with the part or the whole of any animal,
making a cabbage to sprout from the hump of a camel, or a rose-branch to nod from the head
of a horse, as we see delineated in some quaint pictures and engravings.
It can recombine and rearrange the parts of inorganic things as it will, making a rock to
be balanced upon a roof-ridge, and a bridge to stand dry in a desert. There is no limit to the
grotesque and fantastic combinations which can be made with the parts and the wholes of
material objects.
Though the imagination cannot invent a single new sensible or material quality, it can
connect such qualities as nature has never combined, making flaming red dogs, bright yellow
oxen, woolly horses, talking mules, musical jackasses, golden mountains, rivers of wine, ponds
of beer, and fountains of hot coffee.
§ 349. (3.) In respect to spiritual beings, the imagination is
spiritiSiiCObeSs8 lifted by similar constraints and invested with a similar
parts ofhmatter? freedom. A spirit has no visible or extended parts ; there-
fore, as a spirit, it cannot be divided and recombined; but
a spirit may be connected with any kind or form of matter, may be
imprisoned in trees, may animate a cloud, may dwell in an animal form, or
" leap like Minerva from the head of Jupiter. ! "
Not a single new spiritual capacity can be invented or imagined. The
356 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 351.
loftiest and the purest of spirit-creations simply feel, desire, and will.
The humblest and the most degraded can do no less. We cannot invest
the highest archangel with any endowment other than these. We cannot
refuse to the lowliest animal some poor analoga to some of these functions
In respect to the limitations and the conditions of the exercise of the intel
[magmaiy m- ,...',,.,
tellectual and lect, the imagination has the widest range of creative power. It can con
SioSnal Cre" ceive tne intenect of a God that creates all that it discerns, and discerns what-
ever it creates, without condition or process, by an all-penetrating and all-com-
prehending intuition. It can also imagine the intellect of an idiot, struggling to free itself from
the gross obstructions of a diseased body, and fixing its painful attention in the first beginnings
of knowledge.
In respect of feeling, it can, on the one hand, imagine pure love glowing with the energy
of seraphic fervor, or simple hatred raging with fiendish malignity ; and, on the other, the
most imperfect and feeblest actings of either.
There is no limit to the variety of spiritual beings with which the imaginary world can
be peopled, nor to the variety of the conditions of being and acting to which they can be
subjected. The graceful Titania, with her frolicsome and mischief-making fairies ; the hideous
Caliban, in body and spirit the very contrast of the wonderful Miranda ; Satan and Abdiel ; are
examples of the variety of spiritual creations which the imagination can construct out of it?
limited materials.
8 350. (4.) We have seen that the imagination cannot step
Products under . , , , -, . , „ , , . ,
thought -re- without the charmed circle ot thought-conceptions ana
relations. Some of the examples of what it can do withirA
that circle by newly conjoining attributes of material and spiritual beings,
have already been given. It cannot conceive of beings, except as sub-
stances and attributes, but it can join any attribute, of any intensity and
compass, to any substance. It cannot break them from that connection
which binds alj. real beings and events as causes and effects ; but it can
make any existence to serve as the cause of any other as its effect, and
thus can reverse the whole order of actual being by its capricious and
fantastic combinations ; or it can enlarge the bounds of science by its
happy suggestions of undiscovered powers and laws, and the appliances of
art by applications before unimagiued, of familiar agencies to new results.
All things in the world of fancy must be conceived as fitted for some end,
but the adaptations may be imagined as wildly as the caprices of a mad-
man's dream, or as wisely as the perfect fitness which we believe has been
arranged by the All-wise God.
§ 351. With this view before us of the materials to which
imagination ere- the imagination is limited, and of the products into which
it transforms them, we are prepared to inquire, third, How
does the imagination effect these changes; or what is the precise work
which the imagination performs in its creative function? It might be
deemed sufficient to reply, The imagination produces or creates these
products from the materials, and laws of nature ; it does all which is
necessary to effect these changes : it is enough that the imagination per-
§ 352. REPRESENTATION. — THE IMAGINATION. 35^
forms this work ; it can do all that its creations show it is able to perform ;
we interpret its function and its capacity by the results produced. Bui
while this suffices as a general answer, it is fair to ask, more particularly,
What are the principal differences which we discern between the
products and the materials from which they are formed, and what
do we thence infer as to the capacities of the creative power ? We ob-
serve, in answer to these inquiries, There are three different acts in
which its creative power is shown. (1.) The imagination can re com
bine and arrange the constituents of Nature in new forms and products.
(2.) It can idealize and apply the relations of objects to extension and time.
(3.) It can form and employ an ideal standard for the intensity and
the direction of the activity of natural or spiritual agents, and for the
material objects and acts which symbolize them. We will consider these
acts in their order.
1. The combining and arranging office of the imagination.
§ 352. The examples already cited both prove and illustrate
arranges parts the fact, that the imagination very largely acts in the way
of reuniting and rearranging the materials furnished to expe-
rience, and they also suggest the limitations under which this function can
be employed. It is obvious, also, that the so-called parts of objects, and
objects treated as parts, are as minute and numerous as any species of
analysis can separate. The terms parts and wholes, are, as we have
already seen, relative, changing with the objects to which they are applied,
and the special design with which they are used.
There are sense-parts and sense-wholes, representative-parts and representative-wholes,
end thought-parts and thought-wholes. A whole, as a building or tree, may be a part of the
landscape with which it is connected ; while it is still a whole with respect to its doors, win-
dows, roof, etc., and whatever else makes it quantitatively complete. This is an example of
r.he sense-wholes and sense-parts. Again, the several properties or relations of the dwelling
or the tree, its form, dimensions, color, smell, etc., are thought-parts, which can be combined
into new wholes, by taking away and adding, as we have already seen. If these new wholes
are individual, they are formed from representation ; if they are generalized, they are the
work of thought proper, or logical wholes in the larger sense of the word. The synthesis of
the creative imagination reaches as far and is applied as widely as the analysis of sense and
thought can go. The imagination may reunite into varying products all that perception and
consciousness separate or distinguish, and under every one of the relations in which they
apprehend their objects. These relations are its only limits and laws.
That the imagination exercises this function of recombination, has been abundantly illustrated in our
previous examples ; indeed, this is conceded by all writers. The only error or oversight which we notice is,
of those who limit its office entirely to acts of this kiud. Thus, Hamilton says : " Now, in the first place,
the terms productive or creative are very improperly applied to imagination, or the representative faculty
of the mind. It is admitted on all hands that imagination creates nothing— that is, produces nothing new ;
and the terms in question are, therefore, by the acknowledgment of those who employ them, only
abusively applied to denote the operations of Fancy, in the new arrangement it makes of the old objects
furnished to it by the senses." {Met. Lee. xxxiii.) " As to what is called the productive or creative
imagination, this is dependent for its materials on the senses, and on the reproductive imagination. The
imagination produces— the imagination creates nothing ; it only rearranges parts, it only builds up old
358 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 353
materials into new forms ; and, in reference to this act, it ought therefore to be called, not the productive ol
creative, hut the plastic." (Lee. XLV., cf. Stewart, p. 1, c. iii. ; c. vii. § 1.)
So far as this single function is concerned, this may he taken as a correct account of it,
Limits and laws w^ a gj^gie qualification. The recombination and rearrangement which the imagina-
>volved. ^ion performs are purely mental operations, and the products are mental The materials
taken by it in hand are the mind's representations of actual things, parts of things, of
the beings of sense and spirit, and their acts and relations. These representations are, in their nature,
more refined than the realities which they represent. They admit of ideal separations which things will
not allow. The color cannot be separated from the form, in fact ; assuredly certain colors cannot be parted
in fact from certain other properties as they can be parted by the imagination. The unions effected by the
imagination are such as the laws of real being will not allow. The incompatibilities which have been
referred to, as hindering the combinations of the imagination, are fewer than those which obstruct the
union of real objects.
In simple representation, or the literal transcribing of real objects, there is involved some-
thing of what we call idealization. The simple image, if it should be said perfectly to repro-
duce the material or mental reality, would give it as an idea, and not as a fact of present
experience. But in giving it as an idea or image, it always imperfectly represents it. In
what is called simple representation, there is, therefore, always more or less of creation. No
single object or event is or can be ever perfectly reproduced in all its properties and relations,
with a full retention of each and of all in their original intensity. In every such representation
there is and there must be separation and recombination by the creative imagination, the sepa-
ration or elimination of those parts which are omitted, and the consequent unition of those,
and those only, which are retained. Those which are retained are often, if not usually, given
in proportions and intensities which vary from the original. But the imagination has still
other capacities of idealization which remain to be explained. We consider
2. The idealization of the relations of space and time in the creations
of art, and the constructions of mathematical science.
8 353. We have already referred to the fact, that the imagi-
It constructs S . - V, , -, , , 7
ideals of mathe- nation, in every work 01 art, goes beyond, and outdoes the
perfection and refinement of nature. The forms which
sculpture moulds, and which, drawing outlines, are, as we have seen,
more perfect than any which nature produces. Certainly they are more
perfect than any which the senses can discern, or which nature can fur-
nish as models. These constructions cannot be explained by any process
of analysis, or selection of the parts of real objects, whether this analysis
is called mental, or is performed by sensible instruments. The lines
and shapes of grace which have been copied in marble or drawn upon
canvas, in respect of delicacy of transition and ease of movement, far
surpass those of any living being or actually existing thing.
They are suggested by, but are not copied from, any such beings or things
These products „ * , „ , . ~ . . , , , , '
suggested by, The story that the Grecian painter assembled from every quarter the most
naturePied fr0m celebrated beauties, that he might borrow some charm from each, and combine
all together in a perfect work, could never have been true. Stewart, indeed,
asserts : " Milton would not copy his Eden from any one scene, but would select from each
the features which were most eminently beautiful. The power of abstraction [analysis] en-
abled him to make the separation, and taste directed him in the selection. Thus he was fur-
nished with his materials, by a skilful combination of which he has created a landscape more
perfect, probably, in all its parts, than was ever realized in nature, etc." (Elements, P. I. c.
vii. § 1). But this cannot be true, if Stewart refers to the images which were in Milton's own
mind when he wrote. The separate features or parts of the finest scenes that Milton evei
§354 KEPRESENTATION. — THE IMAGINATION. 359
witnessed, were in some respects inferior to those features which he imagines and describes.
While it is true that nature, in some respects, far outstrips and surpasses what art can do, it
is true, on the other, that the imagination, in her province, can go far beyond the attainments
of nature. As we have already said, we even measure nature by some of the achievement*"
of art. We apply the ideals of the imagination still more frequently to try and to test what
spiritual achievement furnishes.
§ 354. We have already noticed those peculiar products
arithmetical which are employed in mathematical science, and which are
known as geometrical and numerical quantities. These con-
structions cannot be produced by any process of separation or combination
of the parts of material objects. In matter there are no points, lines,
surfaces, solids, and spheres, such as geometry conceives and reasons of.
The unequal faces of a material cube, the rough edges formed by two
adjacent faces of a solid, the obtuse corners in which three adjacent faces
terminate, are none of them these objects of thought, nor are they wholes
from which these can be evolved or separated as elements or constituting
parts. The line is not a part of an edge, nor the surface a part of the
material face. If they were parts which could be separated by actual
sense-perception from a whole, they must exist in that whole, or be dis-
tinguished as one of its material constituents (cf. § 345).
If it be said that these are distinguished and separated in the mind, that the process of
analysis or abstraction is mental, it is still true that the mind can only separate what it first
discerns. These objects cannot be discerned by bodily sense, nor can they be represented by
simple imagination. They must be created by the mind, for the mind to behold, when the
mind beholds them. Those writers who, like A. Bain, The Senses and the Intellect, and J. S.
Mill, Logic, etc., and Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy, make these mathe-
matical constructions to be apprehended by sense-perception and refined by repeated associations
and experiences, will find no difficulty in adopting the theory, that the imagination forms
these constructions by analysis and recombination. The difficulty with their theory is, that it
does not provide and account for the facts. The senses cannot and do not apprehend these
objects, neither as wholes, nor as parts of any wholes which they do discern. Nor can asso-
ciation or experience evolve them ; for these, according to the theory in question, only elabo-
rate what the senses discern. We are driven to the conclusion, by the very nature of the
products, that the mind is endowed with the power to create what it seems to separate.
These products do indeed represent some property or relation of a material object or event,
and hence such an object or event may serve to bring them distinctly before the eye of the
mind, as the imperfect material points, lines, and surfaces bring up or suggest their mathe-
matical relations, but that which the mind imagines is this property or relation in a more refined
and idealized form than can ever be realized in fact. These refined or idealized objects
the imagination creates or forms for itself. It may be properly said to construct or to create
them — first, in individual examples and applications, and then by rapid and easy generaliza-
tions. An individual point, line, surface, triangle, solid, sphere, are first constructed in
relation to and by suggestion of a rude material occasion, and this is then generalized by the
ordinary processes and conceived as resembling every similar creation, so that whatever is
true of the one, is readily affirmed of all (§ 453).
What is true of geometrical, is true also of numerical quantity.
Numbers symbolize the relations of objects contemplated in a series, as
360 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §356
constituting a whole, divisible into equal parts. In order to conceive ot
number, the mind must first view objects in all these relations. But in
nature, so far as the senses can know, there are no equal parts consti-
tuting divisible wholes. Whether the ultimate molecules or atoms of mat-
ter are or are not equal, none such are discerned by the senses. The suc-
cessive mental states which consciousness observes and by which it first
apprehends and measures the successive portions of time, are none of
them observed in actual experience to be equally long or short. All
these must be idealized in the imagination before they are separated by
its analysis and combined in its creations. We proceed to
3. The formation of an ideal standard for psychical acts and states.
The imagination § 355. The spiritual acts and states of which we are con-
car Tcts sy and scions, differ from one another in respect to the direction
which they take — i. e., in respect to the objects on which they
terminate, and hence to the quality of the affections — as well as in respect
to the energy or intensity with which they are performed. But none ever
reach a perfection in either respect which is so complete as can be conceived.
Whatever or however we know, feel, or choose ; we can conceive it pos-
sible to surpass what we actually do or experience. What we conceive
as possible, is not remembered — i. e., represented— from what we have
known as actual. We rise above and soar beyond the actual in the ideal
which we imagine. By this we measure the attainments which we have
in fact achieved. We propose that which is ideally possible as the stand-
ard which we aspire to make real.
Such a standard is the work of the creative imagination. It cannot be derived from the
parts which we observe in ourselves or others, because the parts are no more perfect than
are the wholes. It follows, then, when we perceive dimly and believe that we might per-
ceive more clearly, or when we feel warmly or purely, or choose strongly and rightly, and our
feelings or choices do not satisfy our tastes or our conscience, that we must create for ourselves
an ideal standard of spiritual achievement. Such a standard, whether it be a standard of taste
or a standard of duty, is the work of the imagination, that, in connection with and by relation
to every psychical act which it performs or state which it experiences, is able to conceive of
that which is more perfect and satisfying in respect to its object and energy. This may not
be solely the product of the imagination. In the case of the ideal standard of duty, the mind
believes it to be actually obligatory as well as ideally possible, but in the order of analysis and
of nature, the imagination acts first of all, the fancy going before the belief or faith.
§ 356. In respect, also, to the expression of these ideals in
them by sense- material forms, the imagination creates and applies the ideals
which it always aims but always fails to reach. Whether
the medium of expression be language — the language of gestures, of
looks, of tones, or of articulate speech — or whether it be lines, or color,
or solid form as employed by the draughtsman, the painter, or the sculp-
tor, it is all the same. The use which we can make of the medium is
never so perfect as our ideal of what is possible. As we have noticed
§ 357. REPRESENTATION. THE IMAGINATION. 361
already, every such medium, physically regarded, falls short of the
psychical perfection which we can conceive — i. e., create — in the mind
When this medium or material is required, not only to set forth an idea*
of simple outline, form, or color, but to represent another ideal of thought,
feeling, and passion, then it is found to be doubly true that the ideals which
the mind can frame, do, both as ideals and as expressed, rise above the
reality which the voice or hand can execute. Hence it is that the ideal
excellence of the poet, the orator, the actor, the musician, and the artist,
are ever higher than his achievements — that the one flees before the other,
as its shadow, and can never be overtaken.
The products of § 35^* ^ur analysis of the several processes of the creative
agination!vwh?t imagination has prepared us more exactly to understand and
is an ideal? more precisely to define the nature of its products. The
ideals of science and of art, of achievement and of duty, are, as we have
seen, the products of that form of psychical activity which is properly
called the creative imagination. It is imaginative, because the represen-
tative or imaging power is conspicuously prominent in its functions. It
is creative, because there is no counterpart in nature from which its ob-
jects and products are literally transcribed or copied. It is to be observed,
however, that imaging and images are not the sole elements in these pro-
cesses or products. The imaging power, as such, is limited to the rep-
resentation of the objects of actual experience, as wholes and as parts.
The rational and emotional natures are absolutely essential to its existence
and its exercise. There is properly no creative imagination in which the
reason and the feelings are not conspicuous, and in which rational and
emotional relations are not recognized and controlling. Its creative func-
tion is rendered possible by the union of the thinking power with the
imaging power / the joint action of both resulting in these ideal products
which address the intellectual and emotional nature.
It is to be observed, again, that the so-called images which
The ideals are . . . ° ' . . ,.
not images, but the soul is said to create, are not pictures or transcripts from
in'iimited reia- any sense-objects, or parts of sense-objects. The ideal line,
surface, etc., of the mathematician and the artist, have never
existed in fact. Nor are they parts of real lines or surfaces, refined or
divided from them by the analyzing or abstracting power. The imagina-
tion, when it creates, does not picture or image to itself a line without breadth,
or surface without depth ; such a pictured line or surface are as impossible
as real lines and surfaces would be. What, then, does the imagination
perform when it creates its so-called ideal surface and line ? It pictures
or images a line with actual breadth and a surface with actual thickness,
and contemplates them in certain relations to that space, which is the con-
dition of their existence and of their being conceived as realities. The
power to isolate this single relation — one or more — of the thing or its
image, is that which enables the imagination to create the ideal line and
362 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §357
surface. But the power to know space as a condition of extended matter,
and to apprehend existing or imaged beings as holding relations to space,
and to isolate one of these space-relations, is attained only when the mind
has been developed by the generalizations of thought. The ideals of the
mathematical imagination are only possible to the imagination when it has
been disciplined by thought. One chalk or pencil line is narrower than an-
other, one of the laminae of mica is thinner than another. As we divide these
lines and cleave off these laminae, we seem to approximate to the ideal line
and the ideal surface, simply because the senses and the imagination are
less distracted and occupied with sense or imaged properties. The imagi-
nation selects, therefore, the line or surface whose thickness is least ob-
vious to the senses, to suggest or represent the sole relation to space with
which the intellect is for the moment concerned ; or, which is even more
satisfactory, it takes for a point an object whose dimensions are the
smallest discernible to the senses or picturable to the imagination, and
considers it simply as moved or movable directly to another point like
itself, and thus constructs in the imagination the mathematical line. That
is, it begins with an object or an image as far removed from sense as pos-
sible, and uses it so as to suggest the various relations which extended matter
holds to space ; or, to speak more exactly, to other matter extended in
space. By the imagined motion of this line, it proceeds in a similar way
to construct the surface, etc., etc. The nature of the act and the char-
acter of the product, in all these cases, depend on the intellectual appre-
hension of the relations of material — i, e., of extended objects, to space.
The approximation of the actual to the ideal line and surface, consists
in the more facile suggestion of the relations in question, by means of
one rather than the other.
The ideal of the artist depends on the relations of outline,
The ideals of the „ . , . , .
artist ; and in- form, color, etc., etc., to aesthetic pleasure ; whatever may
be its sources and kinds. He brings the lines, the model,
the picture, as nearly as his materials and skill will allow to a condition
in which there shall be no drawbacks to the pleasure and effect which are
sought for. As long as a single distracting or inconsistent feature or
property is prominent, so long is his ideal unreached. As this will
always be the case from defect of materials or defect of skill, so long
will it be true that he can never make his work absolutely perfect,
and that his ideal of what he imagines might be possible, will never be
reached.
The ideal of the inventor is some agent, or combination of agencies,
that are freed from the limitations which pertain to ordinary machines or
instruments. These he illustrates to himself by fondly and sometimes obsti-
nately conceiving of his model only in those relations of adaptation and
capacity which he knows it to possess, and overlooking or denying other
limitations to which it is liable.
§358. EEPEESENTATIO^. THE IMAGINATION. 363
The ideals of psychical and moral attainment suffer undei
ShicaiTdeais?nd limitations of another sort. With certain powers given in
the actual, capable of results which are in fact achieved, and
of good that is in fact enjoyed, we fix our attention solely upon the single
capacity in question, without regard to the limitations which in fact inter-
fere with its achievements. By selecting the most satisfying example
of the actual which we can find, we fix our attention upon those relations
which we desire to contemplate, and withdraw our attention from its de-
fects and hmitations, till it stands before our mind as an ideal example
of the psychical power or the moral excellence which we wish exclusively
to contemplate.
If the ideal excellence is contemplated as an attainable end of our
being, or is enforced by the authority of conscience or the will of the
Supreme, then that which was a conceivable ideal is viewed in still other
relations. It is accepted as real : that which was an ideal of the imagination
is believed to be a fact. But whether these ideals do or do not represent
realities, the process by which they are created into psychical products, and
the products created, obey the same psychological laws and involve the
same psychological relations.
The result of this analysis is but another illustration of the interde-
pendence of all the powers upon one another, and especially of the higher
functions of the imagination upon thought and reason. It enforces and
explains the near affinity of the imaging with the thought-power. It also
indicates the advantage which language and music may have over paint-
ing and sculpture in expressing and suggesting what color and form can
not convey (cf. § 365).
ideals founded § 358- These truths also enable us to understand and explain
^di^du?iaelpe- no^ i* happens that all ideas, however refined and elevated,
rience- are in some sense founded upon and related to the actual
experience of each individual. A person born and nurtured upon a plain,
who had never seen a hill or a mountain, can scarcely imagine the charm
to the eye and the excitement to the mind which such scenery imparts,
and would be quite incapable of creating ideal pictures suggested by such
materials, or even of appreciating them when framed by others. One
who has never been upon the sea, can neither picture to himself, nor fo
others, the wild sublimity of an ocean tempest. The Oriental, basking in
the heat of an equatorial sun, and always surrounded by the fruits, the
foliage, and the flowers that such a sun alone can nourish, cannot form an
ideal picture of an arctic winter. Nor can the Scandinavian, out of the
pale sunlight of his brightest days, or the most luxuriant vegetation of
his starveling summer, construct an adequate representation of the exube-
rant life, and the glowing intensity of a tropical landscape.
The actual life of every painter and every poet, in the materials which it furnishes, must
largely determine the direction and characteristics of his imaginative power. From the
364 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §359
writings of Dante, of Milton, of Scott, and of Bunyan, as well as from the pictures of Raphael
and Murillo, of Gainsborough and Wilkie, one can easily conclude as to the place of their birth,
the kind of education which they received from the books, and men, and scenery with which
they were conversant. Not more decisively does a Japanese or Chinese drawing reveal its
nationality, than do the workings and the works of the. imagination enable us to interpret the
experience and observation out of which this imagination has grown. The ideal world of
every great artist, however high it may tower, or however largely it may partake of the
gorgeousness of cloud-land, must be built of the idealized materials of his actual life and
history.
The imagination § 359- I* follows that the imagination is capable of steady
growth and ^ui- growth, and requires constant cultivation. The creative
ture- imagination, when most gifted, can at first only rise to a
certain height above the materials which its experience gives. Its suc-
ceeding essays are founded upon those which have been made before, and
it proceeds by successive steps, more or less long and high, till it attains
the most consummate achievements that are ever reached by man. That
there is a striking diversity of original endowment, cannot be doubted ;
but that this is the common law of the development of this power, can-
not be denied. It is shown to be clearly true from the nature of the
power itself, as well as from the history of those who have been most dis-
tinguished for their achievements in poetry, fiction, and art.
This training and growth are not, however, occasional, but constant ; they
accompanies all are not the results of separate efforts, which are consciously directed to some
acts Psycmcal definite ends of creation, but are the consequents of an activity which is
spontaneous, irrepressible, and often excessive. No impression can be more
untrue than that the ordinary activities of this power are simply to represent and transcribe,
while it is by occasional sallies that it idealizes and creates. On the other hand, it will be
found to be true, that, even in its apparent transcriptions and its most faithful and vigorous
efforts to recall and reproduce, the creative activity is ever ready to intrude. In the person
who is distinguished as idealistic or imaginative, the creative power is always active, and often
overbears and displaces the clear insight, the fixed attention, the calm and patient reflection,
which are required to apprehend and recall the actual with literal accuracy. Indeed, in all
minds the creative imagination mingles more or less prominently with the other mental
operations, always modifying and sometimes greatly disturbing the acting of these powers and
their results. In sense-perception, the imagination too often selects for itself what it will see
or hear, and brings a report accordingly of what it thinks it has seen and heard. After
the desires are grown strong and the character is fixed, the shaping spirit of the imagination
enters largely into the perceptions as a modifying influence. In the observations of conscious-
ness, and the reports which it records of what it has seemed only to observe, the same influence
and the same effects may be traced of its creative energy. The observation and the record
are both disturbed by the power to notice what we are anxious to find, and to leave unobserved
or to imagine that we cannot see, what we do not wish to find to be true. In the act of re-
calling for ourselves or communicating to others, what we may have actually observed or
experienced (even supposing the original observation to have been correctly made), the creative
imagination often intrudes, consciously or unconsciously, biassed by the desire to please our-
selves or our fellow-men. The frequent and strange untrustworthiness of the memory, can be
accounted for only by the selecting or idealizing activity of the imagination, when it seems to
be simply recalling the actual past. Inasmuch as the thought-power, in its various acts of
§361. REPRESENTATION. — THE IMAGINATION. 365
reaching general conceptions and conclusions, chiefly depends on the fidelity of the representa
tive power in reproducing the actual ; whenever it creates instead of recalling, all the result!
of thinking must be disturbed. In this way the imagination may and does enter very largely
into the acts of generalization, inference, and deduction ; disturbing and misleading all.
§ 360. More generally we may say, this creative power is developed at the
from the earliest earliest period of our existence, and is busy in all ages and conditions of our
till the latest human life. Childhood, in some of its aspects, is the most literal and the
periods of life. , _ ,. , , ' . . . „ , .
most observant of reality ; yet even then the shaping activity of the imagina-
tion is always busy, filling the real world with another world of fancies and dreams. The most
trivial and unsuitable objects are sufficient to excite its action. The rude and unfinished toy
is more acceptable to the child than the more costly and elaborate, because it leaves more room
for the constructive power. If it furnishes resemblances enough to act as points of support
to stay and steady the imagination, it is all the better if the greater part of the work is left
for this to complete and supply. The sports and plays of childhood are little romances,
prompted and acted over for the simple exercise and delight of the imagination. In later
years the imagination is ever busy, not only in the occasions which are set apart for the
exercise of its functions, but quite as much at times when the mind seems to be intent only
on real objects, and engrossed with what are termed its ordinary and practical avocations.
The interest which each man takes in the position in life which he holds or aspires after ; is*
his employments, his friends, and associates ; or the dislike and disgust which he conceives fo;'
each and for all, arises from the ideal lights with which the imagination invests them. Tho
eye of the painter looks every landscape into a picture, and idealizes every face that it beholds ;
the lover " sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt ; " the day dreamer and the lunatio
convert actual realities into visions, or visions into realities ; the poet is, by the very appellai
tion, recognized as a creator of beings that have not existed before.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold —
That is the madman : the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt :
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,
And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Midsummcr-NighVs Dream. Act v.
§ 361. We may almost say that Nature herself is imaginative, or at least that
N tu e educates ^y some of her aspects she prompts and quickens the training of the imagina-
the imagination, tion. When she softens the distance by her interposed atmosphere, or
gives unreal and picturesque effects by her wizard mists, when she gilds the
horizon with the unnatural lights of the breaking morning, or enwraps it in the glorious pomp
of a splendid sunset, she institutes contrasts which cannot but be noticed between a scene in
its common aspects and every day garments, and the same when it puts on ideal appearances
and wears its holiday attire.
This constant activity of the creative power explains its rapid growth, and its development
into the capacity for sudden and surprising achievements. This education must, from the
necessity of the case, be in great measure a self-education ; it must be confined to the indi-
vidual himself, and be conducted by processes that can be watched by no eye but his own, and
issue in products that are known only to himself. There is no part of the mind's activity,
also, of which it is so shy to communicate. Its secret ideals, its private romances, its vague
366 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §363.
and aimless reveries, its fond imaginings, its aspiring and audacious dreamings, are guarded
with the most jealous care. And yet, upon these concealed activities every man expends a
large portion of his active energy.
Th d t a § 362, When an occasion calls for the manifestation of the power thus
imagination trained and matured, it acts as by the force and with the promptness and
igencies which precision of apparent inspiration. Whether the exigency be that of the
call it forth. artist, the poet, or the inventor, the creative power formed by the ceaseless
activity of years meets its requirements from the resources that it has been gradually providing.
These resources may consist in part of the countless creations which it has shaped in connec-
tion with its perceptions and reveries, and which are again summoned back by the memory
when first these images are needed. In such a case the imagination does not so much create
anew, as fall back upon the unknown and unnoticed store of its previous idealizings. As the
painter, when called to compose a landscape, can supply some needed feature by recalling
a study which his pencil had previously sketched at the sight of some suggestive object,
so the writer in the excitement of composition, or the speaker in a burst of unpremeditated
eloquence, can avail himself of a striking figure that was originally suggested in a calmer
mood — not composing so much as recalling. Or, the resources brought to the exigency may
be the dexterity which has been acquired by use, and which dexterity consists in the power
of so controlling the associating power that it shall yield the very materials which are wanted
for the imagination to work upon, and in having so matured the creating power that as soon
as it knows what it needs, it can create out of these materials the ideal which it requires.
In no other way can we explain the rapidity, the precision, and the success with which the
constructing and inventing power seems to act when it is tasked to its utmost energy and
produces its finest results. So startling is this energy even to its possessor, so ample are its
resources, and so wonderful are its products under the excitement of strong feeling or deter-
mined motives, that its workings are more fitly compared to inspiration than those of any
other endowment of the soul. But the rapidity and force of the unconscious actings of the
soul in all its functions are phenomena which never cease to surprise and astonish us. We
are now prepared to understand the
/Special applications of the imagination. — (a.) TJie poetic imagination.
The imagination § 363. The fact has been noticed, that the creative imagina-
moaSed bydthe ti°n ^ present by its actings with all the other powers of the
other powers. gou^ and determines the character of their products. We
have also seen, in our analysis of ideals, that the converse is also true.
All these powers are present in varied proportions and energies in those
activities which are recognized as the acts of the im agination, and give a
varied character to what are called its products, whether they appear in
the form of poetry, fiction, the fine arts, or philosophy.
Of these, the poetic imagination is the most interesting, and
aginaSon.ic im~ invites to a special analysis. Poetry may be defined, that
use of the creative power which is employed for the gratifi-
cation of the emotional nature in the production of pictures more or less
elevating in their associations, which are fixed and expressed by means
of rhythmical language. When the ends are for mere amusement, and
the associations under which they are present, and the emotions which they
excite, are not especially ennobling, the poetic imagination is, in the
language of later critics, called the fancy. When the aims are higher
than simple gratification, and therefore involve more elevated associations
§363. ft REPRESENTATION. — THE IMAGINATION. 367
and feelings, it is dignified as the imagination by eminence, or the
imagination. The adjective imaginative follows very closely this higher
sense of the word.
The sources from which the poetic power derives its materials are as mi-
The sources or merous and extensive as the universe of matter and of spirit, and yet but few
poetry.11 of these materials subserve the proper aims of the poet. While the poet
may lawfully appropriate truth of every kind, provided it serves his purpose,
yet it is preeminently that truth which holds or may be made to assume some relation to man
which is of use in poetry. Mere pictures, as pictures, however varied and beautiful they may
be, scarcely become poetic even for the fancy, unless some human interest or relation belongs
or is imparted to them. The incidents of human life, or the feelings of the human soul, must
somehow enter into the scene, or the truly poetic interest is wanting.
This human truth, which these pictures suggest, illustrate, or enforce, must
„ _ . , be that which is within the comprehension and reach of all men. It is not
Preeminent- c
ly human truth, the truth of the schools, nor of any special and limited society, nor that
which is capable of being conveyed in abstract or technical words or under-
stood by a select few after a special training, but it is the truth which is open and intelligible
to all men (upon certain impliedly and easily recognized conditions). This is the first of the
three characteristics which are recognized by Milton in his brief description of poetry as
" simple, sensuous, and passionate."
Poetry should indeed be simple, because its products are designed for the use
Poetry sim- of all men; and its images, thoughts, and words should be easily compre-
and passionatef ' hended by all who have attained certain advantages of culture, and have been
trained to a certain degree of thought and feeling. It should also be sensuous
— that is, it deals with images, not with generalized and scholastic language. It presents
pictures to the mind's eye, not refined and subtle reasonings to the thought-powers. It introduces
action into every scene. It is eminently concrete and picturesque. It should also be passion-
ate— i. e., its simple and pictured truth should come from a soul that is animated by warm and
elevated emotions. The presence of feeling as a requisite of all that composition which is
called imaginative, is not always recognized so distinctly as it deserves to be. Without feeling,
And, in general, without feeling of a higher kind, the mere power to create is of little
worth, and its results are of little interest. Indeed, without it the power will not be so matured
into a predominant energy, or be so regulated, as to become a ready instrument at the service of
its possessor. But with it, the creation of the kind of pictures in which the emotions delight,
becomes a pastime and an occupation, and poetry is to the poet its own "exceeding great
reward." Inasmuch as only the higher emotions act with a steady and intellectual pressure in
the refined occupation of poetic culture and composition, the images which association presents
and the imagination detains and reconstructs, are of an elevated character ; they assume the
lofty and ennobling character of ideals in the better sense of the word. Hence it becomes
so generally true that poetry is almost necessarily elevating in its nature and influence.
Hence it has been held to have something in it that was divine.
" Therefore, because the acts or wants of true history have not that magnitude which satisfieth the
mind of man, poesy feigneth acts and events greater and more heroical ; because true history propoundeth
the successes and issues of actions, not so agreeable to the merits of virtue and vice, therefore poesy feigns
them more just in. retribution, and more according to revealed Providence ; because true history repre-
senteth actions and events more ordinary and less interchanged, therefore poesy indueth them with more
rareness, and more unexpected and alternative variations ; so it appeareth that poesy serveth and con-
formeth to magnanimity, morality, and to delectation. And therefore it was ever thought to have some
participation of divineness, because it doth raise and erect the mind, by submitting the shows of things to
the desires of the mind ; whereas, reason doth buckle and bow the mind unto the nature of things. And
we 6ee that by these insinuations and congruities with man's nature and pleasure, joined also with the
agreement and concert it hath with music, it hath had access and estimation in rude times and barbarous
regions, when other learning stood excluded.^ (Lord Bacon, Advancement of Learning, B. ii.)
368 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 364
The poetic imagination, in its higher forms, is often described as a fusing and
Poetry, in its unifying power. It subjects all its materials to single and commanding objects.
uiUtesand fuses! Ifc unites and blends them under the overmastering power of some controlling
passion or commanding purpose. It fills up the field of view with images
appropriate to its thoughts and feelings, everywhere seeking and everywhere finding something
relating to its controlling sentiment or purpose. It turns inanimate things into living beings.
It invests them with the attributes, and imparts to them the feelings which are congenial to the
thoughts and aims which are all-engrossing to itself. These phenomena are not characteristic
of the poetic imagination as an image-making power, but are to be ascribed to that peculiar
elevation of feeling and consequent quickening of the intellect which enters so largely into
poetic genius, and which prompts to its creative power.
When the image-making power simply plays or sports with images for their
In its lower, it picturesque effects and the amusement which they give — when its ends are
scatters?3 an amusement or illustration only, it is called the fancy, which abounds in images,
indeed, but lacks the loftier attributes of the higher imagination. Pancy
scatters and relaxes the attention, rather than concentrates and holds it. It pleases rather than
elevates ; it relaxes and weakens rather than gives tone and energy. It passively submits to the
disposal of the objects which surround it, rather than disposes them at its will, and subjects
them to its control. It is borne hither and thither at the capricious suggestions of the
objective world ; the imagination by the force of its strong emotions subjects these objects
to itself, and makes them seem to be what it wills.
It is peculiar to the poetic imagination that .language is its medium. It is not
Its medium is essential that this language should be metrical ; though a rhythmic move-
language, ment, and the regular return of similar syllables in measured accent heighten
greatly its effects. The poetic power is also shared by the novelist, the
dramatist, and the orator. But poetry must always employ language, and in this respect it
essentially differs from painting, sculpture, and even music. Painting and sculpture create images
indeed, but they fix them permanently upon the canvas or embody them in marble. But
poetry can only suggest them by words ; it portrays its images only, as by words it wakens in
the imagination of another images similar to those which the poet himself conceives. If the
imagination that receives is feeble, slow, and perverse, it is in vain that the poet tries to excite
it to follow his lead. But if it is strong, quick, and sympathizing, it may be aroused by the
words of the poet to finer creations than even the poet himself has known. The suggestive
power of words gives to the poet a marvellous advantage in the greater breadth of his field and
the variety of his effects. The painter and sculptor apparently present all their work to the eye.
It is true that this work is better appreciated by one eye than another. In one sense it takes
an artist to interpret an artist ; but even with this allowance, the range of the indications is
narrow, and the possibility of manifold suggestions is limited. But words have a capacity to
suggest more than they directly convey, and hence to take up into their import a multitude
of pictures according to the variety of uses to which they are applied. The word whose
literal import is prosaic, trivial, or mean, when used by genius in a new application, becomes
poetic, picturesque, and elevating. The material which in common use is cold, conventional,
and dry, has power, by dexterous combinations, to awaken delightful imagery, and to kindle
exalted associations. In this way language itself becomes permanently enriched and elevated
by the fact that it has been employed by men of poetic genius.
(b.) The philosophic imagination.
Relations of the § 364- 1^e relation of the imagination to thought has been
tKgnfand sci- tne subject of much discussion, and has given rise to no
cnce- little diversity of opinion. Many have contended that its
influence is unfavorable to the operations of the intellect in the discovery
§365. REPKESENTATTON. — THE IMAGINATION. 369
of truth ; that it distracts the attention, Masses and misleads the judg-
ment, and disqualifies for any of the reasoning processes. On the other
hand, the fact is undisputed that the men who have been most distin-
guished in philosophy, especially as discoverers or inventors, have been
remarkable for reach and glow of imagination. Indeed, we may safely
say that in the history of speculation and science not a man can be found
who was distinguished for philosophic genius who did not possess an
active and a glowing imagination, and whose imagination did not render
essential service in the operations of thought. Striking examples of the
combination of the poetic imagination with eminent philosophical genius are
numerous. We name Plato, Kepler, Galileo, Bacon, Newton, Leibnitz,
Davy, Owen, Faraday, and Agassiz. A moment's reflection will show
that this must necessarily be true. The objects of present observation
must always be limited in number. They must reappear in the form of
representations. The facts with which the philosopher has to do must
come to him in the form of images, when he would discern their various
relations and subject them to the processes of thought. It is important
that these should be readily presented. This can only happen when the
associative power is wide in its range of relations, and quick in its action.
These qualities almost invariably accompany, if they do not necessarily
involve, great energy of the creative power.
But whatever may be thought of the relations of a vivid
Relations to in- . . ° . . . , _
vention and dis- imagination to the memory, as iurnisning the materials tor
covers
the philosopher, there can be no question that to invention
it is entirely essential ; indeed, that, without an active imagination,
philosophic invention and discovery are impossible. To invent or discover,
is always to recombine. It is to adjust in new positions, objects or parts
of objects which have never been so connected before. The discoverer
of a new solution for a problem, or a new*lemonstration for a theorem in
mathematics, the inventor of a new application of a power of nature
already known, or the discoverer of a power not previously dreamed of,
the discoverer of a new argument to prove or deduce a truth or of a new
induction from facts already accepted, the man who evolves a new principle
or a new definition in moral or political science — must all analyze and re-
combine in the mind things, acts, or events, with their relations, in
positions in which they have never been previously observed or thought
of. This recombination is purely mental. If there be a discovery or inven-
tion, there has never before been such a juxtaposition of the materials
nor of their parts in the world of fact or in the thoughts of men. These
objects and parts are now for the first time brought together in the mind
— i. e,, the imagination of the discoverer. Every discovery is, in fact, a
work of the creative imagination.
It is true the power of thought must attend the operation. Unless the representations and'
combinations are made and regulated with reference to the ends of thought, they will be
24
370 THE HUMAN INTELLECT § 365.
made in vain. But the range of these pictured objects must be wide ; every one of them
must be vividly conceived, that all the attributes, and analogies, and relations may come before
the eye of the mind. The more vividly this presentation is made, provided the processes
of analysis and comparison go on with equal energy, the wider is the field of discovery and
the greater is the chance of success. We have already observed that there are as many forms
of memory as there are distinguishable types of mental activity ; that whatever the mind is
apt and active to apprehend, it must necessarily be quick and faithful to reproduce. By the
same rule, whatever be its power to analyze and recombine, it must be able with the greater
facility, to imagine as analyzed and readjusted, the imagination following the measure of the
mind's presentative power. There are as many forms of imagination as there are forms of
creation or invention. "Whatever the mind can part and unite with the original object before
itself, it can also separate and combine with greater advantage when it is recalled as an image.
The world of images is also far more plastic than the world of reality. Its materials come
and go more quickly than real objects. More can be crowded at once into the field of view.
The mental analysis and synthesis required, can be more rapidly performed upon the shadows
which the mind summons to its service, than upon the things which it can slowly call up and
slowly survey.
ti^ ™ +•„ i But there are special reasons why the peculiar type of the imagination which
1 116 p 0 G 1 1C3.1
and philosophi- the poet requires is closely allied to that which gives genius to the philoso-
nearly allied. pher. To the higher imagination, as required by poets and orators, there is
always requisite the power to interpret the indications or analogies of the
beings and phenomena which they observe. The resemblances which the imagination is quick
to notice and to apply to the ends of metaphor and passion, are more or less nearly allied to
those powers and laws which philosophy seeks to develop and establish. Every poetic
metaphor that is worthy to be so called, is founded on some truth of reason, and serves to
indicate some power or law. The intensity of interest that fixes and holds the mind in the
patient attention of the philosopher is closely allied to that strongly absorbed and controlling
enthusiasm which holds the poet to the images which his fancy summons or creates. Both
dwell in such a world with an enthusiasm which is not easily understood by others. That
which maintains the interest of each, is the passion of each for the image-world which he re-
creates. That which gives to each his mastery over this world, is the familiarity which results
from long-continued practice in calling up its objects and in moulding them at his will. Such
a mastery, arising from such a continuity of effort, can only be attained by that passionate
interest which is the secret of genius, whfther genius labors for the ends of scientific or poetic
truth ; whether the end for which it labors is the truth of science that addresses the in-
tellect, or the truth of feeling which controls the heart.
The objection will still be urged, that the exuberant and passionate imagina-
Objections to tion may> °y the attractiveness of the imagery which it creates, withdraw the
this view. mind from the soberness of scientific truth ; that what might be gained in
the abundance of material and the vivacity with which it is brought before
the mind, is more than counterbalanced by the distracting and bewildering influences which
follow. Or at least it will be said, the poetic imagination will fill the mind with delusive
phantasms in the form of attractive theories, and forbid it to judge of its theories by the
dry and severe light of reason. There may be danger here ; but, on the other hand, where
the imagination is poor and the analogies are few, the mind is narrow, prejudiced, and obsti-
nate. The abstractions of science are personified into essential beings and actual powers. If
the imagination tempts to excessive theorizing, it also precludes and prevents it, by the vivid
sense of reality which it inspires, by the strong desire to illustrate and exemplify by some
pertinent fact of appropriate instance, and by the readiness with which, from its abundant
resources, it can bring them forth for all its occasions. There is no danger to science so
serious and constant as that from an overweening tendency to abstraction, which fills the
intellectual world with artificial hypostases that have no ground in reality, and become the
§367. REPRESENTATION, — THE IMAGINATION. 371
idols of their originator, and those who constitute his school. Against this tendency there it
no correction so effectual as the honest and hearty realism of a vivid, active, and fertile im-
agination, when employed in the service of truth.
§ 366. In the communication of scientific truth there can
In communica- " . , „....„
ting philosophic be no question that a large measure of imagination is of
essential service. He that would amply illustrate, power-
fully defend, or effectively enforce the principles and truths of science, is
greatly aided by a brilliant imagination. This, of all other gifts, delivers
him from that tendency to the dry and abstract, to the general and the
remote, to which the expounder of science is continually exposed from his
familiarity with principles which are strange to his pupils and readers, and
which need to be continually explained and illustrated by fresh and various
examples. The philosophic writer or teacher who is gifted with imagina-
tion is more likely to be clear in statement, ample in illustration, pertinent
in his application and exciting in his enforcement of the truths with which
his science is conversant, whatever may be the subject-matter with which
the science is concerned.
(c.) The ethical imagination.
§ 367. The practical or ethical uses of the imagination are
of the imagma- numerous and elevated. These are sufficiently obvious from
the single consideration, that the law of duty is and must be
an ideal law : for whether it is or is not fulfilled, it must precede the act
which reaches or falls short of itself. Every ethical rule must be a men-
tal creation, an ideal formed by the creative power, and held before the
soul as a guide and law. Asserting, as we do, that this law, in general,
is the same in its import for all men — so that, in a certain sense, the im-
agination of every one must create the same general ideal rule, it remains
true that the practical ideal of every one is peculiar to himself, and shared
by no other person. This ideal, so far as the particulars of his character
and life are concerned, may vary both in its import and in the vividness
with which this import is conceived. What each man may become in
this and that respect, in wealth, position, knowledge, power, etc., is the
romantic ideal of youth and the pleasant dream of later years. The
aspirations of endeavor, the visions of hope, and the romances of .pure
reverie which express more than we dare aspire after or hope to effect,
are obviously the work of the creative imagination. If these are con-
formed to a just ideal of life and character, they are most elevating in
their influence. If they are consistent with the conditions of our human
nature and our human life, if they are conformed to the physical and moral
laws of our nature, and the government and will of God, they are healthful
and ennobling. Such ideals can scarcely be too high, or too ardently and
steadfastly adhered to. But if they are false in their theory of life and
happiness, if they are untrue to the conditions of our actual existence, if
they involve the disappointment of our hopes, and discontent with real
372 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 36 J
life, they are the bane of all enjoyment, and fatal to true happiness. The
brief excitement which these unreal dreams occasion, however highly
wrought this excitement may be, is a poor offset to the painful contrasts
•vhich they necessarily involve.
It is not what we actually attain or possess that makes us happy or wretched,
Relation of but what we think is essential, or possible, or just for ourselves to attain
happiness. The ideal standard for ourselves by which we measure our attainments in all
these respects, is that which has the most to do with satisfaction or discon-
tent. It is of little consequence what a man has, if he imagines that he must have some-
thing more in order to be truly happy. He cannot be content if this is wanting ; if he
dreams that something more is justly his due, his discontent will be aggravated with a sens*
of injustice from his friends or his fellow-men ; from society, from nature, or from God. If his
ideal is rational and just, still more if his theory of life teaches him to find satisfaction in
those sources of good which are open to all, in occupation, in worthy pleasures, and in the
exercise and interchange of the social and kind affections, he cannot easily be robbed of con-
tent and happiness. If his ideal contemplates self-sacrifice, suffering, and evil, as possible
conditions of good, he will be still more secure of a happy life. If it reaches forward to
another scene of existence, and brings before him the blessedness of a character perfected by
suffering and made fit for the purest and noblest society conceivable, his happiness on eartb
may even be augmented by disappointment, sorrow, and pain.
If, on the other hand, these ideals are factitious or unreasonable, they become the sourc*
of constant wretchedness. If a man to be happy, must be as rich or as fashionable, as ^uc
cessful or as accomplished as he dreams of, all his actual enjoyments pass for little or nothing
till his ideal desires are gratified. These are the standard by which he measures his good.
Without reaching this standard, he cannot be satisfied. While, on the other hand, the man
who never aspires can never rise ; while even romantic hopes and wishes have much that is
quickening and elevating in their influence, it is equally essential that all ideals of happiness
should be conformed to truth, and should propose objects that are approved of conscience,
of the ordinances of nature, and the will of God.
§ 368. These ideals of life and happiness must involve a
Ideals of life ° . . , , ^x
necessarily etM- more or less positively ethical character. We cannot im-
agine what we are to be and to become in fortune and
success, without including more or less distinctly what we ought to be in
character and to perform in action. Even if our general ideal be con-
formed to the law of duty, our imagination in particular of what a
virtuous man should be in feeling and in action, may be very imperfect, or
even very false. It may overlook many real excellencies, and tolerate many
defects, through ignorance, false education, and corrupt public opinion,
or our own vicious tastes and inclinations. We may, in our imaginations,
fall far below the elevation of a just ideal of what a man should be, to be
courteous, self-sacrificing, patriotic, friendly, hospitable, gentlemanly, or
even honest, veracious, and upright. But whatever these ideals are,
whether they are false or true, elevated or low, they will be certain to exert
a most healthful or a most baneful influence upon the character. They fur-
nish a standard that is constantly present, and constantly active to lift us
upward or to drag us downward. Hence, in a certain sense, what a man
aspires to become, has ethically already decided what he is. His aims and
§ 369. EEPRESENTATION. — THE IMAGINATION. 373
standard are the reflex of his wishes and his will, as well as the assurance
of what he can achieve in the future.
The ideal standard of duty may be constantly corrected and improved. From
Weals of duty njs own experience of the effects of acts or habits, or his observation of these
may be changed r .
and improved. effects in others, a man may supply what he has omitted to observe, or correct
that in which he has erred, and so advance to a higher and more perfect rule
of feeling, of manners, and of life. In this way a community may rise or sink, may advance
or go backward. Every man, by his good life, by the realization of what is good in himself,
and his more perfect manifestation of it in all appropriate and beautiful acts, may advance the
ideals of others. The contemplation of fictitious characters, elevated and ennobled by ideal
beauty, serves to quicken and enforce the ethical ideal of thousands of susceptible minds. The
poet, the novelist, and the dramatist, quicken the fervor, and instruct the minds, and elevate
the tastes of their readers. The ideals of a community or of a man, both express and form
its ethical life, whether for evil or for good.
(d.) Imagination and religious faith.
§ 369. The relation of the imagination to religious faith is
imagination to interesting and important. The objects of our faith, by
their very definition, have never been subjected to direct or
intuitive knowledge. Neither sense-perception nor self-consciousness, have
confronted them directly or brought report of them. And yet the imagi-
nation pictures these objects as real and most important. What are the
materials which it parts and reunites ? Whence the suggestions which it
idealizes into more refined and spiritual essences ? By what authority
does it invest these creations with verisimilitude and impose them upon
the assent of the intellect, as representing the most real and important
of all truths ? What analogies are there between the finite and the infi-
nite which authorize the imagination to use the one to symbolize the
other, and justify its faith in its own symbolic creations ?
We must im- ^ tne Divine Being — of self-existence, of unlimited power
ilirevri/spirit- an<^ knowledge, of creative and preserving energy, of fore-
nai facts. cast an(j providence, we have no direct experience. All our
direct apprehensions of spiritual attributes and relations are of the limited
only. It is by the limited that we reach the unlimited even in thought.
Conceding that we can conceive the infinite, can we also image our
concepts? (§ 427.) We cannot. The sphere of the imagination is only
the finite. All the pictures which it can construct are of limited objects.
It is by means only of such pictures that it can image its concepts of the
infinite, if it attempts to image them at all. That it attempts thus to
image them, is evident. That it can adequately picture them, no man be-
lieves. What is embraced in the concept is the known likeness between
the finite and infinite. What is pictured by the image, is some limited
example of the thought-relation which the image suggests. These pictures
may be increased in number, extent, or energy, but this is all.
Existence, power, knowledge, origination, foresight ; — all these we
say and believe are both finite and infinite. They are in some sense familiar
374 THE , HUMAN INTELLECT. § 370.
to. our experience, and we conceive and know them. But when we seek
to image them as infinite, we select some examples that illustrate these
attributes ; we choose an image from the finite to give life and reality to
the concept of that which we believe to. be unlimited in respect to its
sphere and energy. The kind of existence and the manner of activity
which we would image, we assume to be within our experience. As we
have already seen, the materials at the service of the imagination when
it has to do with spiritual beings, must come from our personal con-
sciousness. But this consciousness has direct knowledge only of
imited powers and acts. Independence of being, eternity of continu-
ance, superiority to space, unlimitedness of power and knowledge, can-
not be imaged by any thing which we directly know. They can only in a
sense be approximatively imaged by an added number of the objects to
which limited spiritual acts and attributes are related.
When we use the imagination to image or illustrate our concepts and beliefs
T \Q ^tr0<teSSt; °^ mmi^tej spiritual being, we can multiply and enlarge the images of those
worthiness. finite objects upon which these powers are employed, and of the finite effects
in which these infinite attributes are manifest. But these utmost efforts of
the imaginative power to reach the infinite and absolute, are always attended by the belief
that they fall short of the reality ; that no enumeration of finite objects, however interesting
in themselves, or significant they may be, are at all adequate to illustrate the divine ; that
no continuation of space or of time can express the divine eternity ; that no quanta of de-
pendent being can fitly represent the Being who is self-existent. To have the materials that
shall enable a man fitly to image the infinite, one must himself be infinite. There are, indeed,
analogies between the created and the creating spirit ; else the one could not know the other
in any sense or to any degree. But these analogies are too few and too inadequate to enable
or authorize man to penetrate into the secret things which belong to God, or to make con-
ceivable the divine by any images which man applies so freely and properly to limited things.
The imagination is not easily content to use the analogies which are placed at its command,
and to refrain from using those which it may not lawfully employ. It would fain go further
than it can or ought. To do this, has been its constant temptation and its perpetual daring.
To refuse to go as far as it may and ought, is weak and unphilosophical ; but to attempt to go
further, is always irrational, and, it may be, impious.
Theima i ation § 3^°* ^ resPect> a^S05 to tne capacities and experiences of
limited in its ^he spirit in an unembodied or a disembodied state, — when
pictures of an- r
other state of separate from a human body or any material organization —
the imagination is limited in the materials of its working and
the products which it creates. Our knowledge is of the soul in its con-
nection with the body, and of objects which are known through sense-per-
ception. To image any of its acts or states without a constantly present
background of bodily sensations, is to imagine a mode of existence that
seems to us imperfect and unnatural. We cannot imagine the soul with-
out the body by which to know and act, and without material objects to act
upon. If we attempt it, we bring to our aid some attenuated matter for
the soul's habitation and instrument, and we surround it with a world of
objects that wear the forms of material things. It is not easy for us to
§371. REPRESENTATION.-- THE IMAGINATION. 3*75
conceive, and therefore not easy to believe in a world of purely spiritual
agencies and objects, without some intrusion of imaginations taken from
the world of familiar life. But inasmuch as religious faith not only be-
lieves in God, but in another condition of existence for the soul unlike
the present in the connection of soul and body and the instruments and
objects of the soul's knowledge, the question continually presents itself,
How far can we image that world by this, and the soul's experiences in
that world, by its experiences in this ? Can we imagine it at all ? May
we apply the pictures drawn from this life to illustrate or make conceiv-
able the scenes and events of another state? "We not only can, but we
must, yet ever with the caution, that the images which we use be not
allowed to suggest more than the data authorise. That world is like the
present in certain particulars, else we could not conceive it at all.
8 371. There must be concepts which are common to the two, which serve
Common rela- , , . , , . , „ , , , -^ , .
tions in the fi- as the bridge across which we pass from the one to the other. But the images
finTteand the m" by which these concepts are illustrated, must all be taken from the world of
sense and matter, because, forsooth, it is only sense and matter that furnish
images for spiritual facts and phenomena even in the present state of being. If all the
language concerning spirit, even in this world, is taken from the facts and phenomena of mat-
ter, it must of necessity follow that such facts and phenomena, when placed in another sphere,
must yield to the same law. If other facts and phenomena of the future state are to be
conveyed in language which is at all analogous to the sphere of sense and matter, these must
be set forth under images derived from the sense-conditions and the material things which
are present to us here. It should not surprise us, then, to find that the imagination, when it rises
!nto faith in objects of the unseen world, invariably uses pictures that are borrowed from the
?rorld of matter, and phrases all its language from materials furnished by this imagery. It
cannot do otherwise. However lofty its conceptions may be, however soaring its aspirations,
undoubted its beliefs, or ardent its hopes, all these must be pictured and expressed in the
images taken from that world of matter which is adapted to a soul that knows and acts
through a material organism. If there be a revelation that is conveyed by human language
or addressed to the human soul, it must in this respect be accommodated to the capacities of
the soul that is to understand and accept it. The fact that it must be conveyed by such a
medium, does not disprove that a revelation is possible, or at all detract from its importance
or authority. It cannot be argued against its divine origination or supernatural confirmation,
that it conforms itself to the nature of the being to whom it is made. If man is to under-
stand its import, that import must be expressed under the conditions and laws of human thought
and of human language. If we must image the concepts of our own spiritual life, and of
an extra-mundane sphere of being, by pictures taken from the material sphere, all communi-
cations to us concerning other spirits and other spheres of being must be made under this
common condition and by means of this common vehicle, whether they are natural or super-
natural, whether they are human or divine.
If, on the other hand, we regard the necessary limits of imagination and
iN GCSSSoXy Cf*i«.*
tions in conceiv- faith, we shall not expect that either will do more for us than lies in the
preting revela- capacities of either. 'We shall not confound the images of analogy with the
tion- intuitions of direct knowledge. We shall not mistake the accessories of
illustrative imagery for the realities of the concepts or truths which this imagery sets forth.
We shall not revel in sense-pictures of the fancy, as though the sensuous in them were literal
truth. We shall not be imposed upon by pretended seers, because, forsooth, their pictures of
the unseen, are so minute, so copious, and so beautiful, or so confidently set forth ; overlooking
376 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 371.
the circumstance that these visions may be merely the residua of a too luxuriant fancy, or the
creations of an excited and perhaps an insane imagination. The recognition of the human
limitations in the divine, will teach us to interpret the divine aright, while it may save us from
accepting as divine that which is only limited and human.
Upon the imagination, and its various applications, cf. J. Addison, The Spectator, Nos.
411, 412, 413, 414, 416, 418, 419 ; A. Alison, Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste,
Ess. I. ; M. Akenside, Pleasures of the Imagination ; E. Burke, A Philosophical Enquiry,
etc., p. v. sees, ii., iv., v., vi., vii. ; D. Stewart, Elements, etc., p. ii. chap. viii. ; Dr. T. Brown,
Lectures, xlii., xliii. ; Hamilton, Met. Lee, xxxiii. ; J. Ruskin, Modem Painters, p. iii. sec.
ii. ; S. T. Coleridge, Biog. Lit, chaps, xiii.-xxii. ; W. Wordsworth, Appendix, Prefaces, etc.,
Poetical Works, vol. vi. ; Leigh Hunt, Imagination and Fancy ; E. S. Dallas, The Gay
Science ; R. G. Hazard, Essay on Language ; P. Brown, Procedure, etc., etc., of the Human
Understanding; Things Divine and Supernatural conceived by Analogy; H L. Mansel,
Limits of Religious Thought ; H. Calderwood, Philosophy of the Infinite.
§372. THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 311
PART THIRD.
THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE.
CHAPTER I.
THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE DEFINED AND EXPLAINED.
From presentation and representation we proceed, or rather we ascend, to a higher kind oi
knowledge, viz., knowledge by thought. Presentation gives us individual objects. Kepre.
sentation recalls them to the memory, and pictures them in the imagination. Both these
acts and processes prepare them for the service and uses of thought, which gives general,
ized conceptions, permanent principles, and universal laws. In this part of our treatise
we treat of the processes and products of thinking, or thought-knowledge ; reserving for
the part which follows, the consideration of the intuitions and relations which are directly
assumed in thought, and indirectly in all knowledge.
To what pro- § ^72. ^e third kind of knowledge of which the intellect
terms applied?6 *s caPaDle, is thinking, or thought. The term thought, when
used in this special or technical sense, is applied to a great
variety of processes, which are familiarly known as abstraction, general-
ization, naming, judging, reasoning, arranging, explaining, and accounting
for. These processes are often grouped together, and called the logical,
or rational processes ; their mutual affinity and common relationship to the
higher functions of the intellect, being acknowledged by this general ap-
pellation.
This affinity is more clearly seen in that they all assume and make
prominent certain fundamental relations, such as substance and attribute,
cause and effect, means and end, adaptation and purpose, power and law,
with the several concepts which these relations involve.
The relation of ^ ^s movQ manifest and striking by the relation of these
toemaJsr°Wgher processes and conceptions to the higher knowledge and
knowledge. attainments of man. It is by thought only that we can form
those conceptions of number and magnitude which are the postulates and
the materials of mathematical science. By thinking, we both enlarge and
rise above the limited and transient information which is gained by single
acts of consciousness and sense-perception, as we lay hold of that in
them which is universal and permanent. By thought, we know effects by
their causes, and causes through their effects : we believe in powers, whose
actings only we can directly discern, and infer powers in objects which we
have never tested or observed : we explain what has happened by refer-
ring it to laws of necessity or reason, and we predict what will happen by
378 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 373.
rightly interpreting what has occurred. By thinking, we rise to the unseen
from that which is seen, to the laws of nature from the facts of nature, tc
the laws of spirit from the phenomena of spirit, and to God from the
universe of matter and of spirit, whose powers reveal His energy, and
whose ends and adaptations manifest His thoughts and character.
Thought, as already explained, not only gives us the most
thought -pro- important part of our knowledge, but it qualifies us for our
C6SSCS*
noblest functions. It makes us capable of language, by
which we communicate what we know and feel for the good of others,
or record it for another generation ; of science, as distinguished from and
elevated above the observation and remembrance of single and isolated
facts ; of forecast, as we learn wisdom by experience ; of duty, as we
exalt ourselves into judges and lawgivers over the inward desires and
intentions ; of law, as we discern its importance and bow to its authority ;
and of religion, as we believe in and worship the Unseen, whose existence
and character we interpret by His works and learn from His Word.
§ 373. But what it is to think, and how thinking should be defined, may be
processes illus- more easily understood by a concrete example. We take a familiar object,
ample. by an &*~ as an aPP^ei an(* proceed to think it, in the various processes already named.
We suppose that it is perceived and represented, and that we know from our
previous studies what it is to perceive and remember. We begin to think this object, which
has often been perceived and represented.
First of all, we know it as a being or a something, as distinguished from
The apple as nothing ; and, as such, like every other entity, whether it be an actual or
substance and ., ,,. .
attribute. thought-being.
Next, we think or know this being as possessed of and distinguished by
attributes or properties which we can separate in thought from the being to which they belong,
but which are held to it, and to one another, by a natural bond which cannot be broken.
We go further: we observe in other objects — apples — attributes like those
Abstraction and which we discern in this ; we see the objects to be similar in color, form,
generalization. taste^ ete ■ and we tnjnk these apart from the less conspicuous attributes, and
from the individual apples to which they belong, and then combine them into
larger or smaller groups of attributes. In this way we form the mental product called a
general notion or concept of the apple, or of apples in general as we say, which we can
analyze and define. To abstract and to analyze, is to think.
Next, we restore, or think back, these general concepts to the individual
Classification apples, and in so doing, we divide them into higher or lower, wider or nar-
and naming. rower classes; some by their color only, as red, striped, etc.; others by
their form, as round, oval, etc ; others by their taste, as sweet, acid, etc. To
classify, is involved in thinking.
As we proceed, we mark and fix what we have done by language. We give names to
each of these attributes, to the concepts and things formed and denoted by several attributes
united ; to the classes and sub-classes into which they are separated. Thinking is necessary
to language.
Next the apple holds relation to space and time. It is both extended and
Geometrical and endurin^. The perception of the apple conditionates or involves the knowl-
tionse.nCa rela" edge of both space and time ; we do not here inquire how or why. By
thought and imagination we are enabled to separate the object perceived
§373. THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 379
from both time and space, and to construct in space the various geometrical figures, as weL
as to conceive and define them by their necessary attributes or properties.
Moreover, all sorts of entities, whether things existing, or thought-things, whether attri
butes or beings, can, by the common relation to time of the mind that thinks them, be though.
in the relations of number. They can be counted one by one ; they can be gathered into
groups, and the groups can be counted : the number of times a smaller group occurs to make
a larger group, can also be counted. In this way all the operations of arithmetic or algebra
are rendered possible as acts or operations of thought, upon concepts which thinking itself
constructs and provides.
Again, the object — the apple — is believed to be produced from a tree, by
Cause and ef- beginning as the germ in the blossom, and gradually expanding into the
feet. ripened fruit. It is known also to be dependent upon the agencies of heat
and moisture acting together with the living tree. The several changes which
occur, together with their attendant conditions, are observed by the senses as they precede and
follow one another. The memory gathers these in their order. Thought, however, connects
them as cause and effect, and finds in the phenomena thus connected, the relation of the
powers and laws of their causative agents. All these relations, and the conceptions which
grow out of them, are known by thought.
We proceed to another act of thought-knowledge. By observing the powersi
and conditions in this class of apples, their habit of growth, the soil, situation
and temperature favorable to their successful cultivation, we infer that tho
same are required in all cases, for this kind of fruit, and confirm the sugges-
tion by experiment. This is knowledge by induction. Induction is a process of thought, for
simple perception gives us no authority to believe with confidence that which we have not
observed, nor does the simple memory of the past, or imagination of the possible, justify u«
in predicting events that are yet future.
But we do not confine our inductions to a single object, or class of objects. We extend
them to still wider and higher classes, till, by thought, we have discovered the great powers*
which pervade the universe, and fixed the laws according to which they act. These widest
inductions are known by the rational faculty which we call the power of thought.
But we do not rest with the induction of powers and laws. We observe that
Adaptation and ^e aPP*e ^ useful an(l pleasant as food. We notice that it is the product of
design. cool climates, and can, with proper care, be preserved through the winter.
We do not merely observe and record these as facts, but we connect them
by the relation of adaptation, or fitness to the wants of man. We discern other, adaptations
in objects. This adaptation implies design or thought in the structure of the universe. It
shows us each inferior part as contributing to the superior, and all as acting together in per-
fect harmony toward the well-being of the whole. But adaptation and design are not seen
nor heard ; they are neither tasted nor handled, but they are known by a higher capacity o
the intellect ; they are the revelations of thought.
The nature and processes of thought might be illustrated by an example
Example from se^ecte^ fr°m tne world of spirit. By consciousness, we know only indi
spiritual being. vidual states of perception or feeling. They follow after one another, like the
successive waves of a rapid stream. Should we notice each individual as it
passes before the eye of our consciousness, the eye would be confused and bewildered. But
we detain or repeat one and another ; we observe their likeness or unlikeness ; we form con-
cepts ; we group them in classes which divide the individuals to which they belong ; we fix
and record the products of our acts by a name ; we find common causes, powers, and laws for
similar phenomena ; we discern the adaptation of spiritual objects to one another and to the
world of matter, and thus bind together the world of matter and spirit, in the unity and har-
mony of one comprehensive plan ; the thinking of man interpreting in these ways the thoughts
of God.
380 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 3?5.
§ 374. From this review of particular instances of thought
thought defined, we derive the following definitions : To know by thinking, is
to unite individual objects by means of generalization, classi-
fication, rational explanation, and orderly arrangement : Thought-knowl-
edge is that knowledge which is gained by the formation and application
of general conceptions.
Thinking is a species of knowledge ; but knowledge has been defined
as the apprehension of objects in their relations, the different species or
modes of which are determined by the character of the objects and rela-
tions. Thinking, as defined from this point of view, is the apprehension
of objects as generalized, and their implied relations.
We begin this knowledge with the formation of general conceptions,
as the first step in the process. We proceed to apply these conceptions in
the various ways which these conceptions imply and render possible. In
doing this, we are naturally and inevitably led to evolve the several prod-
ucts and kinds of knowledge which we have briefly sketched— -formation
of the concept, classification, definition, division, deduction, induction, ex-
planation, and systematic arrangement. As the result, we gain rational
knowledge, philosophical Jcnowledge, scientific knowledge or science, and
practical insight or wisdom.
§ 375. Some persons may question the propriety of designating these several
The uses of the processes by the term thinking, or thought, for the reason that these words
terms justified. sometimes signify to imagine, or believe on insufficient evidence. To apply
these terms to the most important distinctions -which we discern, and the most
positive truths in which we confide, seems to intimate some doubt of the trustworthiness of
the knowledge itself, and of the processes by which we attain it.
On the other hand, it should be remembered that thinking and thought, in the best English
usage, denote, in a general sense, the higher as distinguished from the lower operations of the
Intellect. There are no single words so appropriate as these, which can be set apart to the
technical service and designation of the operations of the rational faculty ; no other terms are
Sn actual use whose common signification is at once so comprehensive and so definite as are
these.
Another profounder reason might be given. All the products, or object-matter, with
which these powers are concerned, as they are general objects, in one sense exist only in and
for the mind of man. The concept, the class, the argument, the inference, the reason, the
system, are not individual entities existing permanently in the world of matter or spirit, but
thought-entities, created by and existing for the intellect that thinks them into being.
The operations which call them into being may properly be called thought and thinking, in
distinction from perception, which has to do with those individual objects or events which
exist or occur in the universe of fact.
The use of these terms does not, however, imply that the objects are less real,
What these or that the knowledge is less certain, than the acts and objects of sense and
imply. d° n0t consciousness. On the other hand, many of these objects are more real, and
much of this knowledge is more certain. By these acts we know things in
their essential nature, their fixed causes, their unchangeable laws, and their controlling ends ;
in other words, we know them by a deeper insight, and in higher relations, than we can by
the observations of sense or the experience of consciousness. By thought, we correct the
mistakes of single observations ; we gain power over nature and over ourselves. By thought,
g 376. THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 381
we see into the truth and essence of things, we read the secrets of nature, and interpret the
very thoughts of God.
If, by an occasional use, the word to think signifies to surmise, to imagine, or to believe
without reason, this does not exclude or destroy its higher meaning.
Appellations for § 3^6, ^ ** De difficult to find an appropriate term to stand
thinkiu0wer °f **or a^ these higher processes, it is almost as difficult to find
or select an appellation for the power which qualifies us to
perform them. The intelligence and the intellect have been thus appro-
priated, but they are also used for the capacity of the soul for every
species of knowledge, the lower as well as the higher-; for the power to
know by sense and imagination, as well as the power to know by general
conceptions. The understanding is sometimes employed in this very
general sense, and sometimes limited to a single and special function, as by
Coleridge and others, after Kant. The judgment is used, likewise, in a
wider and a narrower sense. The reason seems better fitted than almost
any other term, and yet the reason is used for the very highest of the rational
functions, or else in a very indefinite sense for all that distinguishes man
from the brutes. It remains for us to choose between the rational faculty
and the power of thought, or briefly, thought. For brevity and precision
we prefer thought. It is scarcely necessary to observe that, like percep-
tion and representation, and many subordinate terms, thought is used at
one time for the power, at another for the act of thinking, and at another
for its product. Thus we say indifferently, c Man is endowed with thought
as well as with sense : ' " Sits fixed in thought the mighty Stagyrite : " "A
penny for your thoughts / "
If the reason were asked why no single term has been assigned by English philosophers
^I^fl11 ° *° g f *° ^s higher power in man, we must answer, that it is in part owing to the want of
Locke's Essay. definite and accordant views in respect to the nature and functions of such a faculty, and
in part to the influence of Locke's Essay. This work is quite as much a treatise on logic
and metaphysics as on psychology. It scarcely professes to give a complete and systematic view of the powers
of the soul, but is chiefly occupied with an analysis of ideas ; the manner in which they are formed and
the sources from which they are derived. Even in the incidental notice which he takes of the higher pow-
ers, Locke is especially superficial and hasty.
These powers, in addition to those of sense, reflection, and memory, are loosely called discerning, com-
paring, compounding, naming, abstraction (B. ii. c. xi.). He promises to treat of these fully afterwards, but
fails to redeem his promise psychologically ; what he contributes in addition being only in the way of logical
and metaphysical analysis. Locke gave the direction to all subsequent writers, even to those who differ
from him most materially. Even Reid, in treating of the higher powers, groups them all under judgment,
which he treats quite as much from a logical as from a psychological starting-point. The threefold division,
derived from the Schoolmen, of knowledge into simple apprehension, judgment, and reasoning, seems to
have exercised a powerful influence, often for evil, over the psychological treatment of the higher powers.
This is to be observed even in Kant.
It is worthy of notice that, before the time of Locke, the intellectual powers were, in England, divided
into three : sense, phantasy, and intellect. The oldest antagonists of Locke, as Lee, Bishop Peter Brown,
and others, complained that he did not recognize this division.
Whatever else of good may be said of Locke, in that he emphasized consciousness (reflection) as a dis-
tinct source of knowledge, of equal authority with sense ; he did no good to psychology by abandoning this
received threefold distinction. Eor all his efforts to give clearness and precision to his conceptions and
nomenclature, Locke merits the highest praise. He is to be honored for his unwillingness to acquiesce in
traditionary terms or forms of speech, and for his desire to find a meaning in all that he accepted ; but h*j
is not to be commended for rejecting the traditional psychology of the schools because of its formalism,
and yet following blindly the traditional logic, which, if possible, was even more formalistic and empty.
382 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §378.
§ 377. The power of thought may be considered in two
thought?60 s ° aspects : as a capacity for certain processes or functions ; and
for originating or bringing to view certain fundamental
conceptions or relations. In the one of these aspects it performs the
several acts which we have enumerated, of generalizing, judging, reason-
ing, etc., the most of which are usually called logical processes, because
they are more or less intimately related to deduction or reasoning. In
the other, it is viewed as the discoverer of certain native conceptions or
intuitions, and the propounder of certain first truths, or first principles ;
which are also called necessary and universal propositions, or axioms of
reason. These conceptions and propositions are called metaphysical con-
ceptions and metaphysical truths.
To the performance of the processes which have been named, these con-
ceptions are absolutely essential. We can neither generalize, nor reason,
nor infer, without both assuming and employing the conceptions of sub-
stance and attribute, cause and effect, means and end. But the power
which originates and reveals them is distinguished from the faculty which
applies them, or rather, we should say, the same faculty has been differ-
ently named according as it is viewed as developing or as applying these
necessary conceptions and relations.
Hamilton treats these two offices as two faculties, the elaborative and the
Often distin- regulative, the one of which elaborates or works over the materials furnished
guished as two ° '
faculties. by the lower powers, according to the conceptions or rules which the other
furnishes or prescribes. In this he follows Kant very closely, who calls the
logical faculty, the understanding , and the power to which it is subjected as explained by his
peculiar philosophy, the reason.
It is more legitimate to consider the two in conformity with the analogy which we discern
in the other powers of the soul ; the one as the capacity for certain definite acts or processes
of knowing, which we consciously exercise and employ ; and the other as the unconscious
source of those conceptions, according to which the material of knowledge must arrange
itself by the very constitution of the thinking power. According to this view, the logical or
elaborative faculty, or the understanding, performs its appropriate functions, which are analo-
gous to those of conscious presentation and representation ; while the reason, or the regulative
faculty, or intuition, is like the unknown and unconscious power possessed by the soul to pre-
pare for the senses and memory their appropriate material (§47).
Forms and laws § 378. The thinking power, viewed as the capacity for certain
Forms °of g be- processes, thinks in various methods that are clearly distin-
mg* guishable from one another, both as acts and products ; while,
as in the other activities of the mind, we measure the process by the pro-
duct, the two being often denoted by the same word. These several products
are called the forms of thought, or thought-formations. Into these forms
or formations these several processes bring every individual object, and
express them by appropriate words. These forms are the concept, the
judgment, the argument or syllogism, the induction, and the system.
§379. THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 383
Each of these forms has its constituent elements and relations, which, in
their turn, are evolved by the action of the thinking power.
As the discerner or the discoverer by intuition of certain necessary
conceptions or relations, the thinking power is said to know or assume
certain forms of being, according to which it performs its operations of
thinking, and constructs its forms of thought. These are called indiffer-
ently, forms of being and forms of knowledge, for the reason that the
mind can only know what is or exists, and according to the relations in
which it exists. Some of these forms of being or forms of knowledge
are time and space, substance and attribute, cause and effect, means and end.
The laws of thought are criteria of correct thinking, and are stated in the form of rules,
for the purpose of preventing those errors to which the intellect is liable in its actual thinking,
and of readily detecting and correcting such errors when they actually occur.
The forms of thought, in a sense, are laws of thought, inasmuch as the mind cannot think
at all except it thinks in or through these forms. The laws of thought, however, as techni-
cally conceived and defined, are those logical and practical rules according to which we must
think, if we would think correctly. The forms of thought make it possible for us to think at
all. The laws of thought direct us how to think logically and correctly.
Inasmuch, as we shall see, the object-matter of our thinking is far wider than the object-
matter of our knowledge of facts or things, these forms of thought are also applied to abstract
and hypothetical thinking, as well as to concrete and actual knowledge.
Relation of § 3^9, ^e Power °f thought, as a capacity for certain
iowefhtowerstbe Psych°l°gical processes, is dependent for its exercise and
development on the lower powers of the intellect. These
powers furnish the materials for it to work with and upon. We must
first apprehend individual objects by means of sense and consciousness,
before we can think these objects. We can classify, explain, and method-
ize only individual things, and these must first be known by sense and
consciousness before they can be united and combined into generals.
Not only is it true that these lower powers are necessary to furnish
the objects for thought to work upon, but it is true in fact that they are
developed long before these higher powers. The infant must go through
a training of the eye and the ear for months, before it begins to name and
classify with effect. It is the conscious subject of a multitude of mental
states, before it gathers the most obvious under a general conception.
The discipline of attention must be for a long time enforced, before the
developed mind can learn to apply the commonest concepts or to affix the
simplest names. The conceptions of cause and effect, and of means and
end, are not developed till the intellect has become still more mature.
To the development of thought, the representative faculty is also
largely subservient. The individual object must not only be apprehended
in order to be thought of, but it must be recalled again and again. To
thought, the discernment of similarity is required ; and in order to this,
the past must be frequently confronted with the present, and the present
f
384 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 380.
must be compared with the past. Objects striking for their likeness or
their difference, must be recalled by the memory and revived to the im-
agination, in order that like objects and like phenomena may be grouped
and arranged in the rudest classification. If the classification is to be
perfected to any thing like scientific exactness, the memory and imagi-
nation are to be tasked still further in order that one's thoughts — i. e,,
one's concepts — may be just to the reality of things.
But while the thought-power, in its various operations, is thus shown to be
In what sense developed later than the several forms of direct cognition, it should not be
active trom tne x ° '
first. supposed that it springs into perfect and mature energy by a single bound,
or that the infant acts of perception are not affected by its rudimental activ-
ity. The human intellect is a unit, and the action of one power is tinged or modified by the
feeble energy of all the others. The sense-perceptions of the infant may seem to be more
feeble and less mature than are those of the young of the brute. The higher powers may
meanwhile seem to lie torpid long before they are called into distinct activity. But before
they are revealed to the conscious subject of them, or are expressed in the simplest forms of
language, they give direction and character to the perceptions of sense. They impart to the
human eye a cast of dawning intelligence which distinguishes it from the keener eye of the
dog or the eagle. It is in entire accordance with the analogy of the general development of
the soul, that the mind should make efforts to think, before these efforts are distinctly apparent
to the subject himself, or to the observation of others.
Those efforts of thought with which the philosopher is concerned, are, however, those
which cannot be questioned, and which are positively revealed in language.
§ 380. Thinking, again, may be distinguished as concrete and
stracUMnMiiV abstract. In concrete thinking, we know of thought-con-
ceptions and relations only in their application to individual
or concrete things or individual objects. More exactly, we know indi-
vidual objects under or by means of the relations which thought furnishes.
In abstract thinking we separate these conceptions and relations from any
and all individual objects. We consider them apart by abstraction, and
sometimes treat them as though these conceptions and relations could have
an independent existence. In concrete thinking, we proceed as we have
described in § 373. We perceive an apple or a stone. By thought, we
know it as a being. We think it as round, or oval, as colored, etc., etc. ;
we apply to it the proper adjectives, or qualifying words. We do not
think of the distinction between the apple as a substancej and its attributes ;
much less do we think of being in the abstract, and speculate about the
distinction between substance and attributes, as to its origin and nature.
We simply know this individual object as a being distinguished or qualified
by attributive concepts and names.
In abstract thinking, we separate or abstract from every individual
object the generalized conceptions which we produce by thinking, as also
those by means of which we think ; as the concept, the judgment, the
argument, the inference, on the one hand, and substance, i, e., being and
attribute, cause and effect, means and end, on the other. We even abstract
§380. THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 385
and generalize our very acts or processes of thinking, and view them apart
from the individual examples or cases in which they actually occur. We
ask, What is it to conceive, to generalize, to judge, to reason, to infer—*
nay, what is it itself to think ? We discuss the nature and origin of these
conceptions, and their relations to one another, and to the objects to
vhich they are applied, and to the rest of our knowledge.
Concrete thinking is performed by every human being whose powers are fully
B efWh0 Uif kin " developed. All men freely apply its original conceptions and relations. By
performed? means of them they know sensible and spiritual objects, so far as they know
them at all. A stone or an apple, a horse or a dog, a house or a church, a
spirit or a person, each and all are known as beings, and are distinguished and defined by
certain attributes or properties. One of these acts upon another, as cause producing an effect.
One alters the form of another, scatters its particles, unites them in a new form, or produces
a new existence. The fire causes the gunpowder to explode ; the magnet attracts the iron ;
the spirit moves the body, and, by means of its own body moves other bodies also, and ex-
presses itself by motions, looks, and words.
In myriad forms, objects are familiarly known by us as substances and attributes, as
causes and effects, as means and ends. In the concrete form, all these conceptions are present
in the language, and familiar to the minds of the most uninstructed men. They animate and
direct all their actions in common life. They are the grounds of their opinions and beliefs.
They excite their hopes, arouse their fears, and move all the springs of feeling.
But when these conceptions are abstracted, and viewed apart from individual
Difficulty of ab- beings, they are not easily made familiar to the mind without a special disci-
stract thinking. pijne# it }s on\j a few- men wno possess the tastes or the training which
qualify them familiarly to deal with or rightly to understand thought-concep-
tions when abstracted from concrete things. Skill in using, and discrimination in understand-
ing them, can only be acquired by patient and concentrated efforts.
Each of these classes of men are exposed to a special danger. Those who are
Enr0rth-°^ th°ie accustome(* to these conceptions only in the concrete, and who have no
iii the concrete. familiarity with them when presented in the abstract, do not readily assent
to their reality, when thus taken out of their applications and made the objects
of philosophical analysis. They stare at these abstractions as at pallid ghosts, that walk
abroad only at midnight, and are scared by the broad and bright light of the open day. They
even question their validity, and the authority of the processes by which they are formed.
Though they prove themselves to be their every-day acquaintances, they can scarcely compel
recognition on account of their strange clothing. If recognition is at last compelled and:
conceded, men untrained to abstraction are never quite easy in their presence, or ready to
trust them in their uncommon and unfamiliar garb.
Those trained to philosophical thinking often rush into the opposite error..
Of those who They treat these abstract conceptions as independent entities. They believe
think in the ah- , , , . , . , , _ , . , , , _
stract. that these ghostly creations have veritable flesh and blood. Because they
are denoted by nouns and receive separate appellations, they are considered
and treated as things. Those who analyze and discuss them, often forget that the only exist-
ing beings are material things and spiritual agents, and that it is only as attached to these that
these abstract conceptions and relations can have actual force ; as it is by these only that"
their true nature can be understood. These existing beings alone both exist and are known,
and stand in certain relations to one another, and to the being which knows them. They
cannot be known in the concrete, or as individuals, except as individual beings with individual
attributes, as individual causes capable of individual effects, as individually adapted to indi-
To
25
386 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §382
abstractions of thought be brought back. They must all be translated into these, in order tc
have any meaning or any truth.
Relation of §381. There is no natural antagonism between knowledge
experience and by experience and knowledge by thought, or, as it is some-
times called, the knowledge of individual facts and the
knowledge of truths. Those who insist that what we observe by the
senses or experience in consciouness is the only knowledge on which we
can rely, overlook the fact that nothing can be known by observation or
experience which is not also known in some of its attributes, effects, or
uses, and that it cannot be expressed in human language without being
generalized, expressed in propositions, and used in deduction and induc-
tion. They do not notice that no human being can observe facts without
thinking those facts.
On the other hand, thinking, without deriving our thoughts from and testing them by
individual examples, is no thinking at all, because it violates the very definition and concep-
tion of thinking which makes it begin in the actual with individual perceptions and expe-
riences, and proceed by generalizing what it observes. . Facts unconnected by those relations
of thought by which they are conceived, classified, explained, and described, are barren of
all interest and unproductive of all use. Thoughts, as mere abstractions, are the vaguest and
driest of all phantasms, except as they are exemplified by facts. Facts without thought-rela-
tions are poor and barren. Thoughts without facts are empty and useless.
Relation of
§ 382. Thinking is aided by language, and, to a great ex-
thought to lan- tent, }s dependent upon it as its most efficient instrument
and auxiliary. But thinking is not constituted by, but, on
the contrary, itself originates and gives form and law to language.
The connection between thought and language is so intimate, that we
shall have occasion to refer to it again and again. One or two general
remarks in respect to it, seem here to be in place. The reason why
thought requires such an instrument and assistant as language, is, that the
objects of thinking are generalized objects, and to such objects there are
and there can be no realities actually existing. The results or products of
our thinking are not manifested by any changes which are actually effected
m material or spiritual objects. When we observe a countless number of
similar animals and group them into a class, we do not impress by these
acts any changes upon their structure or their habits. "We may classify
and arrange them into a complete and well-ordered system, but we do not
add to or take from them as individuals a single property. The same is
true of spiritual beings and acts. Nothing passes over to the objects thought,
which shows how we have thought and classed them. In the knowledge
by sense, the same object reminds us that we have seen it before, or an
object once seen is itself suggested to our memory and recognized as
previously known. So, in spiritual acts, one individual is recognized as
so like another that we call it the same. But thought-generalizations
have no such objects by which they can be recalled and tested. It is only
§382. THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 381
by language — the sound to the ear, and its symbol for the eye — that the
products of our activity can be fixed so as to be the objects of recall
and future use. Hence words spring into being as fast as definite con-
ceptions are formed. Hence it is as natural for man to speak as it b
to think, and man 'speaks because he thinks.' The name petrifies, pre
serves, and exhibits the flitting concept as in a crystal shrine, both hard
and clear. The proposition embodies the judgment for the use of the
man who first thinks it, and who expresses it to stimulate the thinking
of others. In applying names, we must enter somewhat into the nature
and properties of the objects for which they stand. In defining terms,
we must be guided to their meaning by observing the things to which
they are applied. In accepting or rejecting propositions, we must think
of the relations of the objects which they concern.
It follows that, as an individual who is limited in his thinking will require and
A limited Ian- use only a limited vocabulary, so it will be with a community. Wherever we
Imnted thought. nn(^ a language scanty in the number and meagre in the import of its words,
or a language which is limited in the combinations and relations of its syntax,
we always infer that the thinking of the people who formed or used this language was im-
perfectly developed.
It follows, also, that the study of words must be a study and discipline of
The study of thought. To master a language that is rich in its vocabulary, requires that
of thought. we contemplate the nicer shades of thought which are expressed by the
endless variety of the conceptions which are embodied in its words. If it is
complicated in its structure, we must discriminate all the delicate relations which this syntax
expresses or suggests, and trace them through all the variety of forms in which they are
expressed. No language can be dead to the intelligent student. Its thoughts are enshrined,
not buried ; for they can be made living at the call of the mind which thinks them over
again, long after the minds which first conceived them have passed from the earth. Accord-
ing as these thoughts were crudely conceived or delicately distinguished, so is the language
itself rough or polished, awkward in its structure, or plastic as the living spirits which moulded
it. The delicate tissue of words reflects the varying shades of thought, feeling, and opinion
that run through every part of the fabric, like threads of silk and gold.
But, on the other hand, words in no sense constitute thought, as some
hastily infer. Language is simply thought expressed, though the thought
is made permanent by being expressed. It is formed by the thinking
power, because this requires for its development and perfection a sensible
expression of its inner processes, and seeks a permanent embodiment and
record of their results.
JS88 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §383.
CHAPTER n.
THOUGHT — THE FORMATION OF THE CONCEPT OK NOTION.
Thinking has been already denned as that series of processes by which we form and apply
general notions or concepts. It is obvious that the first act in this series of processes is
to form or develop these products. The consideration of the process will instruct us as to
the nature of the product. The psychological knowledge of the acts by which we attain
the concept, will instruct us as to its nature and definition, and prepare us to understand the
other thought-processes to which it is preparatory, as well as to evolve those metaphysical
beliefs and original notions which it presupposes. All will agree that the greater part of
our general notions are formed or acquired by the exercise of the soul's own energy.
However earnestly or positively some may insist that a part of our notions are innate,
none will deny that the great variety of notions which we apply to common objects are
acquired by special mental acts.
Material objects § 383. We begin with the concepts of material objects, such
coTcIpts^re as a stone, an apple, a horse; and observe that such objects
must be perceived, in part at least, before we form general
notions of them. We do not insist that the process of perception should
be complete before the act of generalizing begins. It is not necessary
that all the percepts appropriate to the several senses should be gained,
and that these should be united under all their relations, before general-
ization commences. Still less is it intended that all the acquired percep-
tions should be mastered ; for generalization may assist sense perception in
these higher combinations and acts. It is necessary, however, that a
percept should go before a concept in the order of time, as it is the
foundation for it in the relation of logical subordination. A general
notion requires individual objects to which it can be applied ; and indi-
vidual objects in the material world can only be known by perception.
The mind begins to generalize as soon as it knows that
are known to be several perceived objects are different as individuals, and yet
are in any one respect alike. Before generalization, they
may be known confusedly or known vaguely. The perceptions from the
many objects may be taken to be one through careless inattention, or may
be known as many, and yet be neither clearly distinguished as apart, nor
clearly united as similar. As soon, however, as they are distinguished,
as not the same, and yet as united by a common likeness, the process of
generalization has begun. This process is possible even with single per-
cepts. If ten patches of red color, of the same form, dimensions, and
intensity, were presented to the eye, the mind might gather, or conceive
or grasp them together, by their common redness, and form a general
notion of them ; separating them as many by their distinguished or
distinct position in space, and yet uniting them as one by the single,
similarity of color.
If these ten red discs of color, by the use of the remaining senses, are
§ 384. THE FORMATION OF THE CONCEPT OR NOTION. 389
afterwards known to be ten red apples, i. e. if other points of likeness are
perceived, the generalization is more complex in its materials, but the
process is the same. What is the process ? What are the elements 01
separable acts which it involves ?
The process involves aa act of analysis or attentive dis
This involves . . . . . 1 , . , .
analysis of then- crimination, I he mind must notice that which is common,
and distinguish it from that which is diverse. That which
is diverse must have been noticed when the individuals were perceived.
In generalization, the mind goes one step further : it discerns, by a sepa-
rate act, that which is common. This act is an act of comparison. Its
appropriate object is likeness or diversity. It discerns it first as similar,
L e. the red, or whatever it may be. It takes this similar to be the same,
and, so regarding it, finds it in every one of the individual objects. This
similar something, conceived as common to many objects distinguished as
individuals, is a general conception, notion or concept.
The individuals are, in common language, called beings ; that similar some-
Beings distm- thing which is common to all, is their attribute. The individuals are called
crushed from ° '
their attributes, beings, because, as we have previously explained, every object of direct
knowledge is a being. Every object directly known as diverse in space or
time, is a separate or different being. But, by comparison, we know these beings in a new
relation, as being similar in one particular. This similar something is not a being, for it is
discerned in all, and known of all, of one as well as of another. This is called their attribute,
because it is asserted of each, or attributed to each. It is also called property, quality, pred-
icable, etc., etc., for reasons which are purely logical, and which will be explained in their
place.
Abstraction- to § 3^4. The mental acts which we have described, are famil-
arescinl and to *arty known as follows : The act of analytic attention by
which that element in each of these objects which is like
its fellow in every other, is separately observed or noticed, is usually
called abstraction, because the mind draws it away from the other parts
or percepts. Kant and Hamilton say that abstraction refers to that from
which the mind withdraws itself, while it prescinds the similar to which
it attends. Thus, in the example cited, the mind prescinds the redness,
and abstracts its attention from all the remaining attributes.
The next step is, to perceive by comparison Jhat the several
Comparison. objects to which we thus separately attend, are alike. This
is to compare, or to know by comparison.
The next step is, to consider these several similars as the
Generalization, same, as one something which is common to all the indi-
viduals perceived. This is to generalize — to make general —
more properly, mentally to think or affirm a common something of all
these individuals. The similar red, or round, or sweet, or bitter, is made
one, and, as one, is regarded as common to each of the difFerent indi-
viduals. Which of these acts is first performed, is immaterial — whether
the mind seems to generalize before it abstracts, or the reverse ; 01
390 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §385.
whether it attends, compares, and generalizes all in one. It is all the
same as to both process and product, whether we separate the redness
from the first apple which we perceive, before we apply it to the many,
*>r are stimulated by observing many red apples to notice and abstract
that which is alike and common, or whether the points of difference ex
cite us to generalize the one, or more, in which the objects are alike.
Again, when this common something has thus been general-
The attribute . °, , ,.,' , . . ., ,. ? &
affirm able of ized by like objects, it can be applied to any and every other
object to which it is appropriate. Thus, round, after being
thought of a single class, as of apples or balls, may be thought of all
objects that are round — as of the vast spheres which are hung in the
heavens, or of globules so minute as to be indiscernible by the naked eye.
These processes are performed by all men whose higher powers are at aU
These processes developed. Every such man knows what they are, for they all abstract,
men. compare, and generalize with equal ease, though not to the same extent or
with equal perfection. All men do not discern with equal readiness that
which is alike and that which is different in individual objects. There are shades of color,
peculiarities of, form, varieties of taste and sound, which some men can never distinguish as
either alike or unlike, with the utmost energy of attention. Many more are not reached,
through indolence, or carelessness of attention. There are others still, to discern which we
need a special discipline: as the training of the painter's eye, the musician's ear, or the
mechanic's touch. There are abstractions, however, which all men make who think at all,
even the rudest and the youngest. There are generalizations also, to which all are compe-
tent, and which all men habitually perform.
Presuppose the § 385. It has been already observed, that these processes
substance and develop and presuppose the distinction of substance and
attribute — i. e., of being and distinguishing relations. The
individual apples of which we think the redness are beings, the redness is
their common attribute. What is the nature of, and what the authority by
which we make this distinction, we do not propose here to inquire. For
our present purposes, it is sufficient that we call attention to the fact that
it is fundamental to the process of forming the notion, and that it must
be assumed as real, and be firmly believed by the mind.
One thing only we observe : The distinction is not discerned by the mind
This distinction through the organs of sense. We abstract one sensible quality after another,
not discerned by b b ^ J
sense-perception, and we still say the being remains. When every sensible quality, save one
is conceived to be removed, we even then distinguish what remains as substance
and attribute. We cannot take away one quality after another, as we lay off the folds of a
crystal or the layers of an onion, and find a material nucleus, or core, which is itself a simple
being, without attributes or qualities ; for what remains is as truly a being and an attribute
as that with which we began. So far as the senses are concerned, what we call the qualities
and being are blended in one and constitute a whole, and yet we believe that the two are
diverse from one another, and that every mind assumes the distinction to be valid and real.
It is only when we analyze the thinking process and its product by a reflex and generalizing
act, that we find that we cannot affirm the similars conceived as the same, to be common to
§386. THE FOKMATION OF THE CONCEPT OK NOTION, 391
every individual, without framing a thought or mental something which is distinguishable from
he beings to which it belongs.
We rest here, at present, with this discovery, which points to further inquiries — viz., thai
»he distinctive or differing conceptions of being and attribute are not discerned by sense-per-
ception, but are evolved in the processes of thought.
By the same method, we prove that they are not discerned by our conscious
Jf°vS!ric{by experience of single spiritual acts or states. Though it be essential to each
consciousness. one of such acts or states, that they be performed or suffered by the identi-
cal ego, yet these acts or states must first be abstracted, compared, and
generalized, before they are known as attributes, and the ego is known as a being, or the
subject or substance of common attributes. Of spiritual as really as of material attributes
and beings, it is true that their concepts or notions are evolved and discerned by thought.
The further discussion of the import and origin of these correlates must be reserved for
another place. [Cf. P. IV. C. VII.]
The product, a § 386. The product of the processes which have been con-
tion?Pimportnof sidered, is called a concept or notion. We employ these
terms because they may be made precise in their import and
technical in their use. Conception is sometimes used ; but conception is,
in our English philosophy, used indiscriminately for any and every object
of the mind's cognition, or else is arbitrarily limited, as by Dugald Stewart,
to the individual object of representation ; thus made equivalent to image.
Abstract general conception (or even general conception), is sufficiently
precise in its import, but is too cumbrous for common use. Concept and
notion have each, in their etymology, a special signification appropriate to
one aspect or feature of the product to which both are applied. Concept
signifies that which is grasped or held together, and refers us to the act
by which different similar attributes are treated as one, or the same act by
which separate individual beings are united as one by their common attri-
bute or attributes. Notion, on the other hand, indicates that which is or
may be known by certain signs or marks, notm — i. e., constituting, defin-
ing, and distinguishing attributes. Concept refers us to the psychological
process by which the product is formed ; notion, to the uses to which it
is applied. Both may be properly employed as technical and scientific
designations.
The reality of any such mental product or thought-object
the product has been questioned chiefly by those who have misunderstood
questioned. L . • .
or misconceived its nature. Its import or nature has been
imperfectly or vaguely estimated even by many who have believed in its
reality. It is only by explaining its nature, both negatively and positively,
that its reality can be vindicated and established.
The concept is not a percept, nor is its object an object aa
pereep?. not a perceived. This last is strictly individual; the concept is
uniformly general. The one differs from the other in tUe
conditions which occasion it, the process from which it comes, and the
result which is evolved. In order to prove this beyond question, we have
392 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 387.
only to ask what the mind knows when it sees a man, and what it thinks
of when it utters the word man, and applies it in thought to the
human species. No one can doubt that the two objects of cognition
are diverse, even though he may not easily explain in what this difference
consists.
The concept is not a mental image, or the object of the
image* mental mind's cognition in representation. We recall an individual
percept, one or many ; or we form, by creation, some image
unlike any which we have in fact perceived. These objects are, as truly
as percepts, clearly distinguishable from that which the mind thinks or
knows when it uses a general term. It is not asserted that the mind is
not aided by percepts and images, in forming, recalling, and applying its
notions, but only that they are not the same, and should not be con-
founded.
Again, it is not asserted that there is any individual being, or any being
No existing in- . . ' . . . •" . ,
dividual corre- existing in fact or nature, which answers precisely to any concept or notion.
concept. There is no such thing existing as a man or tree in general, but only indi-
vidual men and trees. The notion exists only in the mind which forms it,
and in the mind which receives it from another, forming it over again for itself in the act of
receiving and using it. If it be asked, How, then, is it that these notions are denoted by
fixed terms that are universal in all generations and have their synonyms in all languages ?
We reply : The human mind generalizes by similar processes, and is furnished with similar
objects, having the same essential and common relations. Hence, each man forms the same
notions with every other, so far as each uses the same powers upon the same objects with
similar fidelity and attention.
is a relative ob- § 38^« We observe positively: the concept is a purely rela-
ed^e °f knowl" tiye object of knowledge. This is its distinctive feature,
that it has definite relations to objects of sense and conscious-
ness. So far from forming an objection to the possibility, the reality, or
the significance of such an object of thought, that it is not like an object
of sense or experience ; this very circumstance proves its possibility and
provides for its credibility. As a mental product and mental object, it is
purely relative, being formed by the mind and understood by the mind as
indifferently common to single objects ; as, so to speak, held ever ready
by the mind to be affirmed of, and restored to, the single objects to which
it relates. These objects only enable the mind to understand its import.
The individual things to which it relates, give to it its significance and
utility. Without these, it is a no-thing, an unintelligible and unreal
fancy. This peculiarity of the concept is implied in its various appella-
tions. It is called a general, that is, capable of being thought of many
individuals, which are thereby grouped into or conceived as a class. It
is called also a predicable, by its very nature capable of being affirmed or
thought of single objects. It is a universal — i. e., pertaining equally tc
all the individuals to which it. belongs.
§388. THE FORMATION OF THE CONCEPT OR NOTION. 393
The relative character of the concept is still further expressed by the asser-
In what sense is tion, that the knowledge which it gives is symbolical only. Under this view,
symbon CeP l concepts are viewed as being like to mathematical characters or symbols,
They have no import and impart no knowledge when used apart from thi
objects to which they relate, but serve an important purpose in enabling us to recall oui
previous observations of comparison and analysis. They also fix such observations, so that
we cau avail ourselves of them at a subsequent time. They assist others in making the same
observations more surely and readily. But aside from their application, they are as meaning,
less and dry as are the characters and signs of a mathematical formula (cf. § 427).
Others have contended, that the only symbol required is the word ; that
The concept names, or general terms, are the only characters required for the purposes
name. above described ; that the concept or notion, when regarded as intervening
between the name and the individual object, is a mere fiction. This view,
so earnestly urged by the nominalists of ancient and modern times, and by some eminent
philologists, is exposed to the following objections : First, there could be no generalization or
thought-knowledge without language. This consequence is set aside by the notorious fact
that deaf-mutes can generalize without the use of written or spoken terms, and even without
any language whatever. The sign-language which they use when without culture, is but
the painting of individual objects or acts. Second, general terms, when used as symbols,
do not symbolize sensible or individual objects as such, but only elements, attributes, or parts
which are separated by analysis, and compared as like or unlike. If these mental operations
did not separate and fix these objects, the words would have no meaning ; they would have
nothing to symbolize, they would stand for nothing, they would signify nothing. Let it be
granted that what they do signify cannot be known except in its relation to individual beings,
and by means of these beings or those which are like them, it does not follow that when
these objects are before the mind it does not find that in relation to them, which is conceived
by itself, and then signified by language.
That in the individual objects which the mind can distinguish by analysis, and then
recombine by synthesis, is not now the subject of our inquiries. We assume that these
individual objects are capable of being thus analyzed into relations, properties, and attributes,
and that these relations, etc., can be discerned to be like, and thus united under a common
concept, which concept is by its very nature applicable to every one of these objects.
8 388. Again : as being this common and relative thing, the
The concept re- « © © ...
spects attributes concept respects only the similar attributes of individuals, or
or relations. l j. c
such as might be supposed to be alike. It respects those
elements which analysis can separate as individually distinct and compari-
son can unite as alike. Attributes, properties, and relations, are the only
objects which it respects. These are first discerned, then compared, then
united into a single thought-object. This object is the concept or notion.
Herein lies the difference between the act of a brute and the act of a man in
Can hmtes form perceiving objects that are alike. In one sense, the brute may perceive what
concepts 1 jg gjmiiar as readily as a man ; in some cases, even more quickly, for his
senses may be more keen. If he has been ill-treated or frightened by any
other animal or any other thing, whatever is like it will be avoided at once. But the brute
does not attend and analyze as does a man. Hence he cannot discriminate so as to abstract ;
or, at best, the degree and range of such efforts must be very limited. His power to compare
and discern the like and the unlike, would for this reason, be lame and feeble if no other
were suggested. Should it be granted that the brute can discern similar attributes, it
has no power at all to conceive or think the similar as the same. It cannot form and use a
394 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §389.
concept as founded on attributes and as common to individual beings. Hence, the brute is
incapable of language. He may utter sounds and cries, which instinct extorts and to which
the instinct of the hearer responds, and thus the voice and ear of the animal tribes may serve
jome of the useful and social ends which language accomplishes in man ; but the brute is
incapable of language as the signs of concepts, because he is incapable of thought. He can.
not form aud use a concept, and therefore he can neither speak nor understand a single word.
Even the parrot, that miracle of talkers, is incapjibie of language, and never utters what de-
serves to be called a word.
The concept re- ^e observe still further, that all which the coDcept contem-
spects relations piates or signifies, . is these common attributes which are
discerned in the individuals to which it is applied. These
attributes are its proper and sole import or signification. The concept,
as such, is not at all concerned with the number of individuals in which
these attributes are found, or with anything else which may be true of
them. It is all the same to our thinking and to the concept which we
form by thinking, whether the tree of which we make and use the notion,
is here or there ; is high or low ; is the tree which we have often seen and
admired, or the tree which is ten thousand miles distant ; is the tallest of
the cedars of Lebanon, or of the firs of California, or the most dwarfed
and stunted on the coldest mountain summit. It is even indifferent
whether it actually exists or not ; it is only essential that it be made up
by the mind of the actual constituents of every object that is properly
called a tree.
So of the notion of man. It is of no importance whether we apply it to this or that
man, to a tall or short, a black or a white man, to the man whom we love or the man whom
we hate, or whether we apply it to any man at all, so long as we make it to stand for the
attributes that properly belong to every one who is indeed a man. So far as the signification
is concerned, the noun man, the adjective human, and the abstractum humanity, are precisely
the same. The three denote only a single concept, viz., that composed of the attributes which
belong to men. But why, then, are three words employed, if their import is the same ?
Why are general terms divided into nouns, adjectives, and abstracta? We answer: The dif
ference of these words concerns their application, and the convenience of language for brief
and condensed expression. It does not in the least regard the import of the concept common
to the three terms.
Conce ts as con- § 389- I* is important to notice, however, that in their
cjete and ab- application, concepts are distinguished as concrete and
abstract. The concrete notion contemplates attributes, and
is applied to beings existing. The abstract notion treats an attribute as
though it were itself such a being. Of the three notions named, man
and human are concrete ; humanity is an abstract notion. The concrete
notions are applied directly to an actually existing being, for purposes of
classification and language, which need not here be explained. The ab-
stract humanity is applied to designate a being that is purely fictitious,
so far as actual existence is concerned, but which, in language and in
thought, is treated as though it were a real being.
§390. THE FORMATION OF THE CONCEPT OE NOTION. 395
It is concoived as a being, by having attributes affirmed of it ; as when we say, humanity
Is frail and peccable. It has adjectives prefixed to it, as in the phrase, our original humanity
It is divided into classes : humanity is either instructed or neglected, etc. In short, it ia
capable of being treated in every way, as though there were living beings called humanities.
But when we analyze the real meaning of language, and the thoughts of those who use it,
we find that the only beings distinguished by the mind are the living men who are endowed
with human attributes. Every one of the phrases or sentences in which we use humanity as
a being, could be exchanged for others in which men only should be spoken of. These
sentences might be long and complicated and awkward, but they would serve to show that
abstracta, or abstract nouns, have no actual existence themselves, but in every case carry us
back to some real beings in the world of matter or spirit.
There is still another sense of the words concrete and abstract, which is purely logical, excluding all
reference to existing things, and concerned only with notions as compared with one another. According
to this use, the concrete notion is the notion with a comparatively full significance, consisting of many,
packed f nil of, attributes, while the abstract is one with few.
Notions as sim- § 3^0. Notions, again, are still further distinguished as
Pjex and com- simple and . complex. This concerns their import, and not
their application. Those notions which are made from a
single attribute, are simple. Those which are made of more than one,
are complex. Simple notions are called, by Locke, simple ideas. They
cannot be analyzed or decomposed into any constituent elements. The
mind directly discerns them by its various powers of knowledge. Such
words as white, whiteness, green, greenness, etc., etc., are usually given as
the names of simple notions. It would be more exact to say that we treat
these notions as simple, because we do not ordinarily distinguish in thought,
or by language, the discernible shades of white or green. Those which
are properly simple, would be such shades of color as can be distin-
guished from every other. On the other hand, chalJc, chalky, are complex
notions, because they signify more than one attribute. So, man and
human are complex spiritual notions, for they contain many attributes.
No thing or being actually existing is represented by a simple notion. A
No simple ideas grain of sand or mote in the sunbeam, is complex, for it has form, dimen-
or beings m na- ° ' r ' » ""*-"
ture. sions, color, weight, etc., etc. Nature gives us no simple ideas. She touches
us through too many avenues of knowledge. She leads us to observe varied
attributes in every existing thing. We, in our thinking, analyze and separate her complex
objects, and reconstruct and recombine the elements which, at her prompting, we have
abstracted and generalized. In this way we separate and reconstruct the elements or attri-
butes of material objects as nature exhibits them to us, as of plants, and animals. Thus, all
the concepts which are expressed by the general terms that form the staple of every language,
are constructed by the mind. They are passed from one mind to another. They are fixed in
words and recorded in books and literature. The names of the objects that human art and
3kill has constructed for use or beauty, likewise stand for the complex of simple notions which
we observe in these objects. The artificial creations, such as are conceived by human in-
vention and spring from human society, the crimes which are defined by human law, the
offices and relations of government, the signs and proofs of property, the rights and duties
of men, all these are complex notions, which are made and sustained by civilized man, and
interest most profoundly his hopes and fears. These are still further removed from the notions
and terms more usually conceived as abstracta, but, like these, are susceptible of being so
396 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §391.
analyzed as to bo carried back to living beings. But these all arc complex notions, and some
of them exceedingly complex in their constituent elements. If we consult a dictionary, and
run the eye down its lists of words, we shall be surprised to find how large a portion of them
stand for these artificial creations, these complexes of abstracted properties.
§ 391. Notions are technically distinguished by their re-
tent of notions, lations of content and extent, or, as they are often termed,
their comprehension and extension, their depth and breadth.
These relations grow out of the very nature of the notion, as will be
seen by our definitions. A notion cannot be a notion, unless having
these two relations. It can neither be formed nor used unless both
these relations are considered. Indeed, we have already considered both
in the analysis previously given. But it is none the less important that
they should be clearly explained and precisely defined.
The content of the notion is the attribute, or attributes, of
Content defined, which it consists. It is its contained attributes considered
as a unit or ichole. Those notions, whose content we have
the most frequent occasion to consider, are complex notions. Still a sim-
ple notion has a proper content in the single attribute which, when con-
ceived as common, is made a concept. Such complex notions as chalk,
snow, milk, felony, burglary, theft / man, spirit, body, soul, legislation,
monarchy, republic, a state, etc., have so manifestly a sum of contained
attributes, that it is with especial propriety that we speak of their content.
These constitute their meaning or import. When these are fully stated, the notion is
defined. They are also called the essence, or essential constituents, of the notion, because
they make up or form its being as a thought-product or thought-creation. The failure to
distinguish this special use of the word essence, and the readiness with which it has been
confounded with real existence, has been a fruitful source of confusion and controversy among
metaphysicians.
The extent of a notion originally and properly signifies the
Extent defined, number of individuals to which it is applicable. If we
could know, by actual census, how many horses or men
there are at any time existing, their sum would be the extent of the
notion horse. We rarely, however, have occasion to go to individuals ;
for these are divided again and again into larger and smaller groups, to
each of which there is a fixed notion and name. These divisions are
effected by adding to the content of the notion, which includes a greater
number of individuals, an additional attribute — in the case of the horse,
an attribute of color, perhaps ; and we have a new content, white horse,
black horse, etc., giving an extent of fewer individuals. In many cases,
we designate the concept thus newly-formed by a separate name, as
pony, for a small horse, charger, hunter, roadster, etc. So trees are
divided by means of notions, whose content is given as deciduous and
non-deciduous, i.e. whose content is expressed by a single word, as firs,
which again are divided into pines, hemlocks, s^mcces, each having some
§392. THE FORMATION OF THE CONCEPT OK NOTION- 397
attribute not belonging to the content indicated by the word fir, or fir-
tree.
In consequence of these divisions or groupings of individuals by
broader and narrower divisions, the extent of the notion in actual use
always stops short with subordinate groups, and does not carry us down
or back to the included individuals. These individuals are always in-
tended, however, and the subordinate classes are said to constitute the
extent, because they, in their turn, are applicable to and comprehend indi-
viduals.
Inasmuch, however, as, for purposes of thought-knowledge, it is of little
Extent usually consequence how many individual men are living, questions of the actual
species. extent of a notion rarely concern any thing beside the subordinate classes
which make up the greater whole. "We do not count up the men who are
alive — we do not ask whether those who are dead or those not yet born, ought to be added
to the extent of the notion man. We simply propose to know what are the subordinate
classes, as far as they have been divided and subdivided ; and having answered these questions
we rest content till new discoveries or more careful attention require or warrant a still lower
subdivision.
As the content of a notion is exhibited by definition, so the
division. extent is given by division. This division is effected as the
indirect consequence of adding to the content of the notion
a new attribute, which immediately narrows its extent. The adding a
new attribute, or new attributes, for this end, is called determination, or
the act of bounding off, or limiting.
It follows that, as the content of a notion is increased, its
fyasTxtentf86" extent is diminished. Hence the maxim : the content is
inversely as the extent ; and conversely. In other words,
the greater the extent, the smaller is the content ; the greater the con-
tent, the smaller is the extent.
These distinctions and maxims obviously apply to the concepts of abstracta and other
fictitious entities created by the human mind. Inasmuch as all these are treated as though
they were real beings, these concepts admit both of the relations of content and extent.
Thus, gratitude and republic are both capable of definition and division. The content of
each can be given by defining the attributes which make up its essence, and their extent by
enumerating the several species or sorts into which each can be divided. Yet neither are real
beings.
All the properties of the notion which we have thus far considered, seemed to be involved
in the very nature of the product, and in its application to its appropriate objects. They are
none the less important or true for that reason.
On reflection, it will also be found that these properties and relations have already antici-
pated and provided for the whole theory of classification.
§ 392. In forming the notion from, and applying the notion
how does it to, individual objects, the intellect classifies these objects;
that is, it groups them into divisions which are broader and
narrower in their extent ; and of course higher and lower when ranked
according to their place in a system. This consequence follows both from
398 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §393.
the fact that nature has so constructed individual beings that they are
capable of being grouped into larger and smaller divisions, by means of
their resembling attributes ; and from the tendency in the human soul to
meet this fact of nature by the desire to view objects in a corresponding
orderly arrangement. It follows as a necessary consequence that the
mind when it thinks the individual objects of its knowledge by means of
concepts or notions must of necessity classify them.
The first efforts at classification are necessarily rude and im-
chMren classify perfect Children when left to themselves group together
objects in very strange connections and discern resemblances
between things which older people never would think of connecting. The
number or range of objects to which they have access is very scanty — their
power of attentive analysis has been little exercised, and their movements
of perception and comparison are unconstrained by the classifications of
others. In the poverty of their language they apply the words which they
have, to the strangest uses, on the very slightest and the most whimsical
analogies.
They soon learn better, as we say. That is, they take from older persons the concep-
tions and classifications which have been made before them. In other words, they think over
again the concepts that are made ready and presented for their use, in the words of which
they learn both the import and the application. They do not learn these words from memory
alone, but the words guide them in the direction in which they are to attend and indicate
what they will find. Thus in learning to talk they are constrained to fall in with those classi-
fications which previous generations have made before them, and have recorded in the language
which they have left behind.
Savages do not classify under the same restraints. !N"ow and
daslifyfvages then an opportunity occurs in which we can observe the
movements of their minds. When novel objects are presented
to them, they usually seek out some concept or word already known and
familiar, and extend it to the novel object by some resemblance, however
forced or violent it may be. The goats which Captain Cook carried to the
Pacific Islands were called by the natives horned hogs : the horse on a
Jke occasion was called a large dog. The dog and the hog being the only
quadrupeds with which these savages were familiar, these novel animals
were taken into the only concepts and names that were ready for their re-
ception. When the Romans first saw elephants, they called the animal
bos lucas or lucanus, a lucanian ox, from the province in Italy where they
were first seen. It was only after countless observations and myriads of
comparisons repeated for generations by multitudes of individual men, that
the classifications employed in common life and the concepts designated
by the words in hourly use have been reached and fixed.
§ 393. The classifications of science differ from those of com-
LnsoflS^" mon life in that they are founded on a far closer observation.
and are directed by the special rules which are furnished by
§394. THE FORMATION OP THE CONCEPT OK NOTION. 39b
scientific principles. These may be certain assumed ends, or known
powers or laws of nature, which were discovered long after those classifi-
cations were perfected which are recorded in the words of common life.
The classification of animals into Vertebrates, Articulates, Mollusks, Radiates and Protozoans,
and the subdivision of the Vertebrates into Mammals, Birds, Reptiles, and Fishes, is very
different from that represented in the words horse, ox, whale, snake, hawk, quail, robin.
Neither the so-called natural nor artificial systems of Botany give us what we know under the
household names of the lily, the rose, the pink, and violet. And yet these common names do
as really classify their objects as do scientific names. The concepts for which they stand are
formed by the same processes and applied for the same purposes as those which science forms
with greater exactness, and uses with greater rigor. As soon as concepts begin to be formed,
however crude are the first products and grotesque the classifications, the mind has set off
upon a path which needs only to be faithfully followed to conduct to the definitions of Newton,
and the classifications of Cuvier.
To classify is no secret of science, no process reserved for the
Classification »■ ■ i ...... , ..
not peculiar to select few who are initiated into a magic art, lout it is as
6CicHC6
universal and necessary as the act of thinking. The classifi-
cations of common life may be as rational and as useful for the ends of
common life as are those of science for its special objects. They are
founded on the obvious appearances of objects to the senses and the
mind. They are adapted to the uses of men of ordinary culture.
What wealth of thinking does every cultivated language embody and represent ! Each one
of its words has gathered into its subtle essence the results of repeated and refined observa-
tions of the men who perhaps by successive efforts at last reached the concept which the sin-
gle term enshrines. Many of its terms designate relations and similarities which are by no
means obvious at a hasty glance, and distinctions that would not at once be detected. Even
those words which we call synonymous, are distinguished by nice but real shades of differing im-
port. If the language is copious and carefully discriminated like the Greek and the German,
it is at once a representation and a monument of the thinking of the race who used, and by using
developed it into its consummated perfection.
what the no- In like manner the technical nomenclature of -a single science
aSnce^epre- when finished and arranged, is a transcript of all the discrim-
sents. mating thoughts, the careful observations, and the manifold
experiments by which the science has been formed. It represents in brief,
all the most careful definitions and the most complete and best classified
divisions which the devotees to its special objects have perfected by
their labors.
The chief point which these observations confirm, is that the concept
is of necessity a classifying agent. We cannot form the concept by com-
bining individual objects through common attributes, without thereby
separating them from other objects not thus distinguished.
§ 394. Classification is nearly allied to systemization. The
and systemiza- division of objects into classes which are broader and nar-
rower, has a close affinity with their orderly arrangement in
classes which are higher and lower, through a succession of divisions and
400 THE HtJMAlSr INTELLECT. §395.
subdivisions. Both result from the application of notions in their extent
to existing objects, or to objects which are conceived to exist. In the
one case we take a single concept perhaps, and by the determination of its
content, we divide its extent into several that are subordinate. But when
we arrange objects by a system, we pursue the same method by a succes-
sion of subdivisions downward and generalizations upward till we obtain
a symmetrical arrangement of the whole. To reduce our knowledge of
any number of individual objects to such a system, we must use efforts
similar to those which result in the division of a single class.
Nature provides for the realization of such an aim by the constitution of things ; by the
distribution of attributes with which existing objects are invested ; and the ordering of the
powers and laws under which phenomena occur. She inspires to the effort to reduce our
knowledge to this form, by giving us the anticipation and belief that we shall find objects so
constructed, and by rewarding every confirmation of this expectation with special satisfaction.
. Classification and systemization, are the characteristics and
The relation of .
both to knowi- consequences of all thought-knowledge and preeminently of
scientific knowledge. They are indispensable to enable us to
grasp individual facts and to retain our observations. They are an intellec-
tual convenience and an intellectual necessity. But they do not con-
stitute the whole of thought or the whole of science. Though scientific
knowledge is of necessity classified and arranged knowledge, yet much
more than this is true of it. The order, beauty and symmetry of syste-
matic arrangement is but the external indication and accompaniment of
profounder relations than those of the similai'ity of attributes, making
possible notions of fuller and scantier content, and of wider and narrower
extent.
We have entered within the threshold of our analysis and comprehension of thought-knowl-
edge, and yet the light which shines from the inner sanctuary casts its radiance upon the objects
which are the nearest to our view. Other acts remain for us to consider, involving profounder
relations in the constitution of the universe, in the methods and forms of our thinking, and
in the products which this thinking evolves.
§ 395. It will not be amiss, however, to ask at this stage of
sain by knowing our inquiries, wh at addition do we make to the knowledge
which we gain by perception and consciousness by superin-
ducing upon it the acts or processes of thought which we have thus far
considered ? What do wre know more about an object seen or experienced,
by generalizing its attributes, determining its class, or assigning to it a
name ? We may answer this question by asking two or three others.
What more does a man know about a single apple by calling it an apple,
a fruit, a plant-product, an organized being, than he does by looking^
feeling, tasting, and smelling it ? Or one might as properly ask, wrhat
more does a mechanic know of the parts or the whole of a machine, as of
a turning-lathe or steam engine, than does a savage ? The eye of the
§396. THE FORMATION OF THE CONCEPT OK NOTION. 401
latter may be far more keen, and his power of observation as sense-power
may be more analytic and discriminating, and yet the mechanic, by the
aid of concepts and names, sees far more than does the savage without
them. What more is known in both these cases by the acts of thought :
We answer, their common relations, i. e. properties, attributes, and uses.
When we think or intelligently say of a sense-object it is an apple, we both think, and im-
pliedly say of it, it is like a multitude of other sense-objects, in many most important respects,
as of color, taste, size, etc. "When we think or know it to be a fruit, we enlarge still more
widely the sphere or extent of the objects to which it holds relations. So when we think it to
be a plant-product. The same is true of the greater knowledge which the mechanic possesses
of the parts or the whole of a turning-lathe, or a steam-engine. He knows the objects to
which these are related, or as we usually say, the relations of these objects, and the more
numerous are the concepts under or by which they are known, the wider is the sphere of this
knowledge.
§ 396. The circumstance that classification results from the
of^sfification6 thought-process, has a greater importance than would seem
at first to be indicated. As we class the objects, as a pippin,
an apple, a fruit, a plant-product, an organized being, we do more than
discern at each step new and more widely-reaching relations, — we seem
to gain a deeper insight into the nature of the perceived object. This is
owing to the circumstance, that the properties and relations which extend
the most widely either are or indicate powers and laws which it is the
problem of man to discover and apply as the elements and objects of
scientific knowledge.
That was no inconsiderable act which was signified by the
The sismificance ,",.,■■, £ i • t • • ■, -i ,
of naming ob- record which describes the various living animals as brought
to Adam that he might name them. The capacity to name
implied an insight into their nature. For this reason it must of necessity
be true, if we suppose the original man to have been endowed with the
requisite discernment, that " whatsoever Adam called every living creature
that was the name thereof." It seems to be a trifling thing for the child to be
able to affix suitable names to the objects and beings which first attract
its attention. At first thought the act is trivial, mechanical, parrot-like,
as it were, to attach an articulate sound to one or more similar objects ; but
when we reflect upon it as implying the power, as already in being or as-
being stimulated to efficient activity, of intelligently applying this name to
a large number of objects which are in many respects unlike and yet alike,
it becomes an act of the gravest import. It indicates a most important
development of the soul's action, an awakening of it in a new direction,,
and the evolution of a new product.
When the child asks, What is it ? meaning thereby, What is it called ? it really asks, What
is the nature, or what the relations of the object? When the name is given in reply, and the'
child is satisfied, it has a better reason to be content than it seems to have, or than it itself
knows of, for in the name it has the means of enlarging its knowledge of the objects to which
26
402 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 397.
the name belongs, as it learns one by one what they are, and notices in what they are alike
and in what they are unlike.
That the name does, as it were, take up into itself and is ready to give up arxJ
The varying im- reproduce the knowledge of relations indicated by the concept can be easilv
port of the con- • ■,,,./. n , ™
cept Salt. illustrated by the import or any common term, as tor example, Salt. The
child first learns to apply this word to a certain well-known substance, the
common table salt, and to recognise in this article, however different it may be in solidity, color,
tasto, certain common characteristics which entitle it to this appellation. It afterwards learns
to apply it to other substances, which on account of their pungent taste and other properties,
as crystalline character, the processes by which they are formed, etc., have been vulgarly
called salts. This involves, of course, an enlargement of its extent.
When, with the progress of chemical science, more is known about table-salt, e. g., that it
is the chloride of sodium, the import of the concept is changed and enlarged in accordance
with this new and more accurate knowledge. Or it may be stated more exactly, we have
another concept with the same extent and name.
It might be added that if the term takes into its import a metaphorical signification, as of
sprightliness or wit, then this is also indicated by the word. By such an example we see and
show how great an amount of relative knowledge is represented in a single concept, and how
the same concept and word enlarge themselves to receive and represent the added import
which progressive knowledge discerns and acquires : both expanding their capacity to store
away and retain all that the mind appropriates.
That was no slight achievement of Aristotle, to seize upon, bring out and establish the
truth that the concept of an object either declares what it is or at least indicates the direction
which must be taken in order to find this. The concept is the permanent ivhat-ness or what-sort-
of-ness, which may be thought of the things to which it is applied. It is the rb ri l\v clvou, i. e.
its real and permanent nature. To ask what a thing is, according to Aristotle, is to take the
first step and perform the first of the processes which are essential to its complete mastery.
It is to propose the first of those questions, the answers to all of which carry the mind through
the entire circle of scientific knowledge.
The other two are Sia t! and ov eVexa, viz. ; whence, or by what causes or means', and what for, or to
what end or design, — the first giving the relation of efficient, and the second that of final cause.
Aristotle also recognises the intimate connection of the concept with the word, calling the two by
the same term, 6 Adyos.
For an explanation of the phrase to ti ?jv elvcu and of the one nearly allied, to ri e<m see Trendelenburg
De an. p. 192 sqq., also Ehein. Mus. 1828. Heft 4, p. 457 sqq., also Geschichte der Kat. p. 34 eqq.
delation of § 39^- Thought-knowledge is sometimes contrasted with
knowledge by presentative or intuitive knowledge to its disadvantage, by-
concepts and by -^ _? ■ • .- . ^o t j
intuitions. such representations as these : No definition can give any-
adequate impression of the objects which we discern by perception or experi-
ence in consciousness : A moment's inspection of an object, as of a turning-
lathe, a steam-engine, or any implement of labor or art, is worth more than
the most elaborate description by words, or the most precise and full
enumeration of its constituents. So it is often said, an hour's experience
oi' mental or moral activity, and the actual exercise of the love of the
rio-ht or of God, is worth more than a whole system of ethical or
religious philosophy.
This in one sense is true, in another it is false and misleading. Simple
inspection by perception can give very little knowledge of the object?
§ 398. THE !N"ATUEE OF THE CONCEPT. SKETCH OF THEORIES. 403
named. It is inspection or experience attended and enlightened by
thought, which instructs the mind. It is perception, with comparison of
like or unlike properties, powers and adaptations, which is unfairly con
trasted with definition and description.
It is true, that thought with intuition is greatly to be preferred to thought without intuition,
out in cases where intuition cannot be had, the definition or description by concepts and term?
are no mean substitute. Often they accomplish that which is of most importance ; the con
veyance to the mind of a knowledge of those relations which are of the greatest significance, aa
of common properties, common causes, common laws, and common uses ; all of which are, for
the purposes of science and of practice, not only the most important relations but those only
which are of any considerable use. Intuition gratifies other capacities, as those of sensuous or
emotional pleasure. It both satisfies and stimulates the curiosity. It enables the inquiring
or sceptical mind to verify the assertions of others by personal observation. It brings the
opportunity to make fresh and independent judgments and inductions of our own. But the end
of intuition is not found in itself, but in the thought-knowledge to which it excites and
directs.
The what which the concept and the word both propose to communicate, is not the direct
observation which presentation gives, but the higher and more comprehensive knowledge which
thought aims to achieve. It is not the knowledge that a being is, but the analytic and compara-
tive knowledge of its relations.
CHAPTER III.
THE NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. SKETCH OF THEORIES.
En the preceding chapter we have considered the nature of the concept in a general way, so
far as was required in the analysis and explanation of the psychological process by which
it is formed. As a metaphysical and logical question it has been fruitful of discussion in
the schools of ancient and modern philosophy. From Plato to John Stuart Mill, it has
been the perpetual theme for discussion and controversy. The history of the various theo-
ries which have been held is not merely interesting as a subject of curious speculation,
and as the key to much of the history of philosophy ; but it is most instructive as enabling
us to understand the nature and reach of language, as well as as the grounds of our faith
in philosophy itself, and in the special sciences of which philosophy is the foundation.
We return to it a second time for more careful consideration, as a necessary preliminary
to which we shall give a brief sketch of the history of the theories which have been
taught in the ancient and modern schools.
§398. The nature of the concept and its relation to real or existing objects has been
The doctrines of *^e occasion of endless speculation, of fantastic theories, and of sharp and persistent
Socrates and Pla- controversies in every period distinguished by philosophical inquiry. Socrates was the
to. first to insist upon the importance of forming concepts of the objects of our knowledge
in order that the permanent and essential might be eliminated from that which is acci-
dental and transitory in individual objects. But he.taught little or nothing in respect to the nature of tho
concept, or of that in the object to which the concept is the counterpart or correlate. Plato took up the
inquiry where Socrates left it ; insisting more abundantly than he upon the necessity of this higher knowl-
edge, and showing that in attaining it we must define and divide— must go from the individual to the
general, by successive inductions, and so on from one step to another, till we reach that which exists of and
404 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 399.
by itself— that which is alone the permanent object of [true] knowledge. This is the idea ^ ISia or to eioos.
We attain to this by forming separate concepts, which -we successively test and reject, till at last they revea!
'he idea. This idea is, however, not itself a concept, vorjua, though concepts enable us to find it. It is
rather that in the object which prompts us to form those tentative concepts which enable us to discover the
idea itself. But what this idea is, and what are its relations to the concept, he does not accurately teach ;
where it exists he does not assert ; whether in the object itself, or in the mind of the Creator, or in the
mind of each thinking man, he does not define. He seems to teach that ideas, or Hie idea, have an exist-
?nce and essence separate from all these, that they are eternal and incorruptible, existing before all tem-
porary and perishable beings, and imparting to the perishable and phenomenal in these beings all their dig-
nity and interest. Ideas are realities, things and events are their shadows. Ideas have a sphere and place ol
their own, etc., etc. But whether by these representations, he intends only personification and poetic fiction,
or sober scientific definition, is not always easy to decide. This much is certain ; that the idea with Plato
stands for the objective correlate of the concept so far as the idea is within our reach, and that it is by obtain-
ing concepts of objects as we may, that we approximate towards the knowledge of ideas. To the nature of the
concept itself, as a psychological product, and its relation to the real or the ideal, he gives little attention,
and of it furnishes no definition. Aristotle, following Plato, justly charges him with treating his ideas as
existences or substances which could exist separately from individual objects or things, and compares the&p,
uypostasized entities to the anthropomorphic deities of the Greek mythology, which must assume the
forms of men, and when they did so were only known as wearing the garb and as performing the actions
of men, and yet, separately from these forms, could not be known "by mortals.
§ 399. As against Plato, Aristotle insists that the only real beings or substances are ex-
• u, isting beings or things, the irpSirat oiaiai, as he calls them. He is distinctly aware that
Aristotelians. there are other sorts of beings besides these. The Sevrepai ovciat, are distinctly discrim-
inated from the irponai overeat, or individual beings. He aims to show in what sense
the former are so called, and how they are related to real beings, or, in modern phrase-
ology, to show the relation of concepts to real existences. His aims are, however, more satisfactory than
his achievements. This is explained by the fact, that his treatment of the concept is metaphysical and
objective rather than psychological and subjective. That is, he treats the concept as an object of the mind's
analysis and contemplation, rather than as a result of the mind's producing— as a product already created,
rather than as a result which the mind must evolve in accordance with the laws of its activity and the rela-
tions of the objects concerned. Hence he left the problem unadjusted, as a legacy to his disciples— a meta-
physical question to be discussed and debated, and not a question of fact and psychology to be inquired
into by the study of the mental operations as revealed to consciousness.
Psychologically, Aristotle goes so far as to discriminate the TrpatTat. oio-iai from the Sevrepai ova-Lai.
Ovcrta Si ianv 17 nvpuarara re ical jrpwros, Kal /xaAiora \eyop.iv7], tj p.rJTe naQ' viroKetp.evov twos Xiyerat, [irJTe
ev iuroKeijoieva) tivi eartv, olov 6 tIs avOpoinos, Kal 6 tls ltttto?. Cat., ch. iii., n. 1. The first is the only real
being or substance. The second is not properly a substance, but only in appearance, it really in the last
analysis signifies a quality. (Cat., chap. iii. n. 16.) In modern phrase, the SevTepai ovo-iai are Universals,
and these are the procliicts of the mind's own activity, and separately from this, have no proper existence
of their own. They are resolvable into, and signify some quality. All the being which they have comes
from this, that the mind asserts or predicates certain qualities of real beings, or irpuirai oicriai. Hence, in a
derived, secondary, or representative sense, they themselves are called beings ; the beings of the mind, or
secondary beings.
But Aristotle does not always, nor usually hold to this distinction. "Whether or not it was clearly
present to his own mind, may be a question in respect to which some difference of opinion should fairly
exist. It is certain that he does not always impress it forcibly upon the minds of his readers. When he
discusses the form and matter of substances or beings, t*. e., when he gives a metaphysical analysis of the
essential elements of being, it is not certain or clear, whether he has in mind real beings, i. e., individuals,
or secondary beings, i. e., Universals. The distinction between the eiSos and uAtj, or form and matter, was
thus explained. Matter cannot exist without form. For every being has some determinate form. There
can be no form without matter. The one requires the other. The two are correlates, seeking each other,
as Aristotle figuratively speaks', by a natural appetency. The form only is conceived by the mind. What
the mind conceives of a being is its essence, to tC %v elvai. In modern language the concept is made up of
the essential qualities that are common to several individuals, omitting those which are undiscriminated.
Thus far the distinction is applied to individual substances or beings.
When form and matter are affirmed of the Sevrepai oiaiai as especially discriminated from the nptarai
ov<ruu, the distinction is illustrated by the logical definition or view of the epecies. Here the species as a
determinate form of the genus, is itself the eiSos— i. e., the differentia, and that which is essential and defina-
ble. The genus is the matter ; it is supposed but not defined, as when we speak of the whale or the shark
as a species of animal, animal is the indefinite matter, common to all these beings indiscriminately— what
is thus common takes form in the whale, the shark, etc. The species as conceived by Aristotle, was, how-
ever, not the so-called nominal essence such as can be Constructed by the mind ad libitum by the addition
of any differentia to any combination called generic, but it was an actually existing class— preeminently
«uoh as exist in the animal creation. The permanent characteristics of such, i\ e., their logical properties
§401.
THE NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. SKETCH OF THEORIES. 40i
or differentiae, i. e., their real conditions, were taken as separate forces or forms, which, acting with matter
produced or constituted the species. Generally— the matter is the form iv Swa^ei, the form is thu mattei
V ivepyeia— the one is possible and tending toward reality ; is waiting for appropriate conditions, as we
should say. The other is actual : that is, the conditions being present, the result consequently follows
in a realized or actualized form. The completed realization kv ivepyeia, of the matter ev Swifxei is th«
Aristotle set out with the determination to avoid those personifications which so abound in Plato.
But he did not entirely succeed. Should we concede that he was not betrayed himself into hypostasizing
*;hese metaphors, he did not secure his disciples from this error. So it happened that the ideas of Plate
and the forms of Aristotle were both regarded as actual realities, and as such, furnished fruitful material
for the subtleties and controversies of their earlier disciples and commentators, in the decadence of the
Greek philosophy.
p , §400. It was, however, among the scholastics of the middle ages that such discus-
305. His* ques- sions became conspicuous, in the schools of the Nominalists, the Realists, and the Con-
tion.s. _ ceptualists. The immediate occasion of these discussions and controversies was
Boethius. 470 ? furnished by a passage from Porphyry, in the preface to his Introduction to the Cate-
gories of Aristotle. This Introduction was translated from the Greek by Boethius, and
this passage became the problem for the different sects which we have named — who received their appella-
tions from the different solutions which they gave to it. " Mox de generibus et speciebus, illud quidem
sive subsistent, sive in soils nudis intellectibus posita sint, sive subsistentia corporalia sint an incorpo-
ralia, et utrum separata a sensibilibus posita circa hsec consistentia dicere recusabo. Altissimum enim
negotium est hujus modi et majoris egens inquisitionis." In other words, the questions which naturally
suggest themselves concerning Universals are the following :
* Have Universale a separate existence or do they exist in the mind only ? If they have a separate
existence, are they corporeal or incorporeal ? Are they separable from sensible objects or do they subsist
in these only ? *
-jy, t> . . The extreme Realists answered these questions in the spirit of Plato, or rather of
The Conceptual- tne doctrine which Aristotle ascribed to Plato, viz. : that Universals have an existence
i3ts._ The Nom- that is separate from and independent of individual objects. They even contended
inahsts. T h e ^jja^ they exist before them, in rank and creative power, or at least in point of time,
motto of each. „,, . -',.,..-. , „ . f.
These views were formulated in the motto Universalia ante rem.
The moderate Realists adopted the creed of Aristotle that Universals have a real existence, but only in
individuals. Their motto consequently became Universalia in re.
The Conceptualists and Nominalists agreed in this that individuals alone have real existence ; and
that Universals, both genera and species, are formed by the mind, by bringing together many similar
objects, and designating them by common terms.
They differ in that the extreme Nominalists held that the name only is general and is employed to
avoid an indefinite number of proper names which would be otherwise required; while the Conceptualists
interposed a concept between the name and the objects collected into a class. The motto of both Concept-
ualists and Nominalists was Universalia post rem.
§ 401. The differences of opinion that ripened into these separate philosophical sects be-
gan to be manifest in the ninth and tenth.centuries. It was not, however, till the second
The Scholastics, half of the eleventh that different philosophers and theologians were known by these
appellations, and that the doctrines themselves became the occasion of earnest and
bitter strife. These reappeared at intervals and were not finally terminated before
early in the fourteenth.
(Heiricus) Eric of Auxerre, in the early part of the ninth century, wrote as follows :
" Sciendum autem quia propria nomina primum sunt innumerabilia ; ad quae cognoscenda
9th Century intellectus nullus seu memoria sufficit, hajc ergo omnia coartata species comprehendit
et facit primum gradum, qui latissimus est, etc., etc., etc. Sed quia haec rursus erant
innumerabilia et incomprehensibilia, alter factus est gradus angustior, ita constat in
genere quod est animal, surculus et lapis ; iterum haec genera, in unum coacta nomen, tertium fecerunt
gradum arctissimum et angustissimum, utpote qui uno nomine solum modo constet, quod est usia."
Again, " Si quis dixerit album et nigrum absolute sine propria et certa substantia, in qua con-
tinetur, per hoc non poterit certam rem ostendere, nisi dicat albus homo vel equus aut niger."
Still farther, an unknown writer, either Rhabanus Maurus or a scholar of his writes as follows, on
Porphyry's Introduction : " Res enim non praedicatur. Quod hoc modo probant : si res praedicatur, res
dicitur, si res dicitur, res enunciatur, si res enunciatur, res profertur ; sed res proferri non potest, nihil
enim profertur nisi vox, neque enim aliud est prolatio, quam aeris plectro linguae percussio."
Roscellinus or Roscellin, canon at Compiegne in the second half of the eleventh centu-
ry, was the first recognized Nominalist. His teachings chi efiy attracted attention in con-
\ 1106. ? sequence of the application which he made of them to the doctrine of the Trinity.
His views of this doctrine were condemned by a church council at Soissons, 1092, and
he retracted the doctrine which gave offence, but seems afterwards to have taught hij
406 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §401.
Nominalistic views without molestation. But lie founded no school and left no followers among the teach-
ers in the schools. Hoscellin was earnestly opposed by his contemporary, Anselm of Canterbury. "William
of Champeaux represented the most extreme realism in Prance, and Abelard also, though much less
extreme as a Realist, rejected the doctrines of his teacher Hoscellin.
Hoscellin left no writings and only a letter on the Trinity to Abelard. We are forced to take our
jiew of his opinions from the accounts of his opponents. Anselm says : "Illi nostri temporis dialectic],
:mmo dialectices hasretici, qui non nisi flatum voois putant esse universales substantias ; qui colorerc
nihil aliud queunt intelligerc quam corpus, ncc sapientiam hominis aliud quam animani." (De fid.
trin. c. 2.)
William of Champeaux studied under Hoscellin, but adopted extreme Realism. Abe-
William of lar(* says °f bin* • " Erat autem in ea sententia de communitate universalium, ut
Champeaux. eandem essentialiter rem totam simul singulis suis inesse adstrueret individuis, quorum
1070-1121. nulla esset diversitas sed sola multitudini accidentium varietas." To this Abelard
objects — the same substance must then admit various accidents which are incompatible
with one anotner, and the same must be in different places. "William, on this, modified his statement by
substituting individualiler, or as others read, indifferenter, in place of essentialiter.
Abelard, 1079-1143, who studied under both Hoscellin and William of Champeaux,
avoided the extremes of either, without committing himself to a very definite and con-
1142 ' ' ~ sistei1* doctrine upon the subject. He taught that the universal is not simply vox but
sermo, and has therefore been called a Conceptualist. John of Salisbury, his pupil,
says of him : "Alius sermones intuetur et ad illos detorquet quicquid alicubi de uni-
versalibus meminit scriptum ; in hac autem opinione deprehensus est peripateticus Palatinus Abselardus
noster ; rem de re praedicari monstrum dicunt." He says himself: " Nee rem ullam de pluribus dici sed
nomen tantum concedimus." On the other hand he says : " Nihil est definitum nisi declaratum secundum
6ignificationem vocabulum."
What this signification is and on what in things it depends, he does not explain. In respect to the pre-
existence of Universals, he accepts the doctrine of Plato, under the form in which he conceives it, by
making the ideas which are the forms of things to exist eternally in the divine mind. " Ad hunc modum
Plato formas.exemplares in mente divina considerat quas ideas appellat et ad quas postmodum quasi ad
exemplar quoddam summi artificis providentia operata est." (Introd. ad Theol. I., p. 987.) " Sic et Ma-
crobki3. Somn. Scip. I., 2. 14. Platonem insecutus mentem Dei, quam Grseci Noyn appellant, origi-
nates rerum species quae ideae dictce sunt, continere meminit antequam etiam, inquit Priscianus, in corpora
prodirent, h. e. in effecta operum provenirent." (lb. II., p. 1095.)
Albertus Magnus reconciles the three doctrines in respect to Universals, by saying that
they were ante rem in the divine mind, in re as connected with individual objects, and
ruis 1193^'>8o" post rem as seParate<i by rne Process of abstraction, i, e., as concepts in the mind of
man.
" Et tunc resultant tria formarum genera ; unum quidem ante rem existens, quod
est causa formativa ; aliud autem est ipsum genus formarum quod abstrahente intellectu separatur a
rebus.'" (De not. et orig. an. tr. I. 2.) " Esse universale est formse et non materise." (De int. et intell.,
I. 2, 3.)
Thomas Aquinas made similar distinctions and taught the same doctrine : " Formse
quae sunt in materia, venerunt a formis quae sunt sine materia et, quantum ad hoc,
nomas ^qui- verificatur dictum Platonis, quod formse separatee sunt principia formarum quae sunt
in materia, licet posuerit eas per se subsistentes et causantes immediate formas sensi-
bilium ; nos vero ponimus eas in intellectu existentes et causantes formas inferiores per
motum cceli." (Con. Gen., III. 24.) " Credidit Plato quod forma cogniti ex necessitate Bit in cognoscente
eo modo quo est in cognito, et ideo existimavit quod operteret res intellectas hoc modo in se ipsis subsistere,
sc. immaterialiter et immobiliter. (Sum. theol.j I. 81.)
" Quia licet principia specie! vel generis nunquam sint nisi in individuis, tamen potest apprehendi
animal sine homine, asino at aliis speciebus." (Depot, au., c. 6.)
" Universalia ex hoc quod sunt universalia non habent esse per se in sensibilibus, quia universalitas
ipsa est in anima." (De Universalibus, tr 2.)
John Duns Scotus agreed with the two preceding in respect to the nature of Universals
and their relation to matter, with one exception. They made the principle of individ-
John Duns nation to lie in the matter by virtue of which when united to the form, i. e., the Uni-
versal, each individual came to be what it is. But Duns Scotus recognized what ho
called a separate principle besides, viz., the hsecceitas. The hsecceilas in conjunction
with the quidditas constitute the individual thing.
William of Occam was distinguished as the reviver of the Nominnlistic theory. His
doctrine is expressed in the following extracts : " Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter
ram.iaiTl347 °" necessitatem. Sufficiunt singularia et ita tales res universales omnino frustra^ ponuntur.
Scientia est do rebus singularibus, quod pro ipsis singularibus termini supponunt, i. e.,
tantidem significant.
£ 403. THE NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. SKETCH OP THEORIES. 403
A Universal is defined by him as " conceptus mentis significant univoce plura singulaiia," having ex
fetence in the mind, not subjectively only, but also objectively.
" Idere (i. c, Universals in the divine mind) sunt primo singularium et non sunt specierum quit
.psa singularia sola sunt extra producibilia et nulla alia."
The tendency of Occam's theory was to limit our scientific knowledge of God and to exalt faith a3
the source and principal foundation of theology. Occam was the last who needs to be named in this sketch
of the history of opinions. The discussion of the subject did not cease with his death, for his opinions
vere represented and defended by able disciples. But as Scholasticism itself gave way before the
various influences which enlarged the knowledge and occupied the attention of the learned, the discussion
Df this question became less important.
§ 402. It is very common to think and speak with wonder, if not with contempt, of the
These discus- strifes between the Nominalists and Realists. The modern critic often congratulates
sions not deserv- ^e men 0f jjjs own times that they are not distracted by controversies at once so triv-
contempt? *a* an<* fruitless. He asks himself how it could be possible, that what seems to him
only a metaphysical subtlety or a trivial logomachy, should have occasioned so great
acrimony between the parties and schools concerned, and should have even embroiled their rulers in both
church and state, with one another in bitter and bloody contention. The proper answer to this question
is found in the consideration, that the logical opinions taught were immediately applied to theological
doctrines, and the inferences which the opposite opinions warranted In fact or were supposed to warrant,
in respect to the received docrines of the church, invested them with the supremest importance. The
Nominalist was persecuted by the Realist, and the Realist denounced the Nominalist — not as a Nominalist
or Realist, but as teaching principles which, in their consequences, were deemed hostile to the doctrines or
the authority of the church. Viewed in this light, the earnestness and bitterness with which these dis-
putes were conducted should occasion no surprise ; certainly no greater surprise than that the philosophy
of Mr. Hume, Mr. J. S. Mill, Mr. Herbert Spencer, or Mr. Mansel should now be judged by its relations to
theological opinion.
But the narrow range which this discussion took, and the endless reiteration of the same proposi-
tions and the same arguments, are criticised as inexplicable. These features of the controversy are not
surprising to one who reflects upon the scanty literature which was at the command of the schoolmen, and
the extreme deference which they paid to the authorities whom they acknowledged. Then literature was
at first a portion only of the logical treatises of Aristotle, of course in Latin versions, and a part of a trans-
lation of the Timseus of Plato. The chief source of their knowledge of the ancient systems was the writ-
ings of St. Augustin. There was none of that enlarged knowledge of man which the classic literature and
ancient history might afford, none of that knowledge of nature which the observations of Aristotle, Pliny,
and Strabo might have given, none of that independence of judgment which a better method of observing
the facts of nature would have ensured. The education of the schoolmen was logical on the narrowest
foundation ; and as soon as dexterity in logical gymnastics was secured, it was shut up to the sole service
of training others to expound and defend certain dogmas already fixed and defined by the church.
The subject matter was not trivial, for it is yet under discussion. Prom Aristotle to Mill, from Plato
to Hegel, the same questions have been discussed again and again, and with as much earnestness now as
then. Indeed, the discoveries of modern science and the modern questions respecting the foundations of
Induction and of Theological Truth, invest these questions at the present moment with a deeper interest
and a more profound importance than they could possibly have had when discussed by Roscellin and An-
selm, or by Abelard and Occam. Our respect for the schoolmen will not be diminished when we trace the
progress of this controversy in modern times and among recent philosophers.
§ 403. In modern times the diversities of opinion in respect to the nature of the con-
ModQru Philos- ceP* nave been as great, and the controversies well nigh as active as they were among
ophers. Thomas the schoolmen. The same questions have in fact been agitated, and the same difficulties
Hobbes. encountered, with this difference — that the form which these questions have taken has
been more generally psychological, rather than metaphysical. This was no more than
was to be expected from the general course of modern philosophy. In the more recent German specula-
tions, the logical and metaphysical direction of thought has preponderated over the psychological and in-
ductive.
Our sketch of these opinions begins with Hobbes, a Nominalist of the extremest school, of whom
Leibnitz says, De Slilo, etc. : " Ut credam ipsum Occamuni non fuisse nominaliorem. quam nunc est
Thomas Hobbes, qui ut verum fatear, mihi plusquam nominalior videter." In his Human Nature (c. 5, § 6)
he says : " The Universality of one name to many things hath been the cause that men think the things
themselves are universal ; and so seriously contend that besides Peter and John and all the rest of the
men that are, have been, or shall be in the world, there is something else that we call man, viz. : man in
general, deceiving themselves, by taking the universal or general appellation for the thing it signifieth.1'
* * * "It is plain, therefore, there is nothing Universal but Names." In The Leviathan (p. i., c. iv.) he
says : "There being nothing Universal but names, for the things named are every one of them Individual
and Singular, one Universal name is imposed on many things for their similitude in some quality oi
accident."
I
408 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 406
§ 404. Locke, on the other hand, was a Conceptualist. That he holds to the power of
the mind to form abstract ideas is evident from his direct assertion in the Essay (B. IV.
John Locke. c. vii. §9). "Does it not require some pains and skill to form the general idea of a
triangle, [which is yet none of the most abstract, comprehensive, and difficult,] for it
must be neither oblique, nor rectangle, neither equilateral, equicrural, nor scalenon ;
but all and none of these at once. In effect, it is something imperfect that cannot exist ; [*. c, in fact, or
actually,] an idea wherein some parts of several different and inconsistent ideas are put together. 'Tis
true the mind in this imperfect state has need of such Ideas, and makes all the haste to them it can, for
the conveniency of communication, and enlargement of knowledge." That he was not a Realist appears
from the following (B. III. c. iii. § 11 sqq.) : * * " It is plain by what has been said, that General and
Universal, belong not to the real existence of things ; but are the inventions and creatures of the under-
standing, made by it for its own use, and concern only signs, whether words or ideas." " "When therefore
we quit particulars the generals that rest [remain] are creatures of our own making, their general nature
being nothing but the capacity they are put to by the understanding, of signifying or representing
many particulars." He argues at length against the Realistic doctrine of permanent essences or species.
"Whereby it is plain that the essences of the sorts, or (if the Latin term please better) "species of things,
are nothing else but these abstract ideas." " To be a man or of the species man, and to have a right to the
name man, is the same thing. Again, to be a man, or of the same species man, and have the essence of a
man, is the same thing." "I would not here be thought to forget, much less to deny, that Nature in the
production of things, makes several of them alike," etc. u But yet I think we may say the sorting of them
under names, is the workmanship of the understanding, talcing occasion from the similitude it observes
amongst them, to make abstract general ideas and set them up in the mind as patterns or forms [for in
that sense the word form has a very proper signification] to which, as particular things existing are found
to agree, so they come to be of that species, or are put into that class." That there are no real essences
or forms in things he argues from the fact that different men do not always divide species ordefine their
ideas of them alike, that it is often difficult to tell to what species some individuals belong, as whether a
hat is a bird or a beast ; whether a human monster is indeed a man, etc. ; from the fact that all existing
things are changeable and corruptible, while our abstract ideas of a circle, a mermaid, or a horse, are fixed
and permanent, because they exist in the mind.
§ 405. To these doctrines of Locke, Leibnitz, in his JVouveaux Essais, takes the follow-
ing exceptions : He denies that the essence of the species is only an. abstract idea, and
G. "W*. Leibnitz, asserts that the generality of such ideas consists in the mutual resemblance of individual
things, and this resemblance is a reality. (JYouv. Ess., B. III. c. iii. § 11 .) To the argu-
ment that different men class individuals into species diversely, he replies, that the fact
that we cannot always judge correctly of the interior nature of objects by their external resemblances, does
not disprove that there is such a nature or essence. (§ 14.) He defines the essence of a thing or its species, to
be nothing more nor less than the possibility of that which we propound, i. e., in a definition. That
which we believe to be possible is expressed in a definition. It is a nominal essence when it is possible— it
is real when it is believed actually to exist, d posteriori, or by experience. If we knew the causes of
being we should know the same d priori, through the reason. (§ 15.) See also Meditationes de cognitione,
etc., in which he makes a similar distinction between nominal and real definitions — the nominal giving
the distinguishing marks of a thing, the real the grounds of its possible existence or truth. In the same
Essay he is supposed by Hamilton and others to make an important distinction in respect to the nature of
the concept, by distinguishing symbolical from intuitive knowledge (§ 427).
In another treatise, De stilo philosophico Nizolii, he praises the Nominalists, and Hobbes among
them (§28), and yet criticises their doctrine (§31) that a Universal is nothing but a number of individuals
taken collectively, urging that the Universal is not applicable to the class taken as a whole, but to each
individual of the class— or *o the class taken distributively.
§ 406. Berkeley, Introduction to the Principles of Human Knoivledge, thus attacks the
Geo Berkelev doctrine of Locke. After describing the doctrine as commonly received, he proceeds :
and. David " "Whether others have this wonderful faculty of abstracting their ideas, they best can
Hume. ^11 ; for myself I find, indeed, I have a faculty of imagining, or representing to myself
the ideas of those particular things I have perceived, and of variously compounding and
dividing them. I can imagine a man with two heads, or the upper parts of a man joined to the body of a horse.
I can consider the hand, the eye, the nose, each by itself abstracted or separated from the rest of the body,
but then whatever hand or eye I imagine must have some particular shape and color. Likewise the idea
of man that I frame to myself, must be either of a white, or a black, or a tawny, a straight or a crooked, a
tall, or a low, or a middle-sized man But I deny that I can abstract one from another or con-
ceive separately those qualities which it is impossible should exist so separated ; or that I can frame a
general notion by abstracting from particulars in the manner aforesaid." And yet Berkeley, in another
passage concedes the power of abstraction so far as this : " A man may consider a figure merely as trian-
gular, without attending to the particular qualities of the angles or relations of the sides. So far he may
abstract. But this will never prove that he can frame an abstract, general, inconsistent idea of a tri-
angle." In respect to generalization also, he concedes the following : " An idea, which considered in
§409. THE NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. SKETCH OF THEORIES. 409
;tself, is particular, becomes general by being made to represent or stand for all other particular ideas of
tbe same sort. To make this plain by an example : suppose a geometrician is demonstrating the method
of cutting a line into two equal parts. He draws for instance, a black line, of an inch in length. This,
which is itself a particular line, is nevertheless, with regard to its signification, general ; since as it is
there used, it represents all particular lines whatsoever ; . . . . and so the name line, which taken abso-
lutely is particular, by being a sign is made general."
Hume agrees with Berkeley, adopting nearly his language. "A great philosopher has disputed tha
received opinion on this particular, and has asserted that all general ideas are nothing but particular ones
annexed to a certain term, which gives them a more extensive signification, and makes them recall upon
occasion other individuals which are similar to them. A particular idea becomes general, by being an-
nexed to a general term; that is, to a term which, from a customary conjunction, has a relation to- many
other particular ideas, and readily recalls them to the imagination. Abstract ideas are therefore in them-
selves individual, however they may become general in their representation. The image in the mind is
only that of a particular object, though the application of it in our reasoning be the same as if it was uni-
versal." The only difference between Hume and Berkeley is, that Berkeley makes the particular idea to
represent the general, while Hume adds that it becomes general by being annexed to a term which is cus-
tomarily conjoined with many particular ideas, and readily recalls them. In ether words, Hume intro-
duces his doctrine of the association of ideas to explain how one idea and term can represent several objects,
and become general. "We shall see how this view has been expanded and re-applied by later writers.
§ 407. Reid, in criticising both Hume and Berkeley, does not give his own views in the
Thomas Reid form of a statement precisely defined. He seems scarcely to know what his own opinio; i
and Dugald is. in respect, however, to the question under consideration, and the nature of the con-
cept, he lays down some important distinctions which are quite in advance of the doc-
trines previously admitted. He observes (1) that a general idea must be the product of
an individual act of the mind, and in that sense and so far, is an individual, and not a general, entity. •_'.
" Universals cannot be the objects of imagination when we take that word in its strict and proper sense."'
" Every man will find in himself * * * that he cannot imagine a man without color, or stature, or
shape." " I can distinctly conceive universals, but I cannot imagine them." 3. " Ideas are said to have a
real existence in the mind, at least while we think of them, but universals have no real existence. "When
we ascribe existence to them, it is not an existence in time or place, but existence in some individual sub-
ject ; and this existence means no more, but that they are truly attributes of such a subject. Their existence.
is nothing but predicabilily, or the capacity of being attributed to a subject." Essays on the Intellectual Pow-
ers. Essay V. c. vi.
Dugald Stewart (Elements, c. iv. §§ 2, 3) adds nothing to the discussion or elucidation of the subject,
except to call attention to the ambiguity of the words conception and idea, and to more than intimate that the
doctrine of the nominalist is correct, that we can neither generalize nor reason except by the aid of language.
§ 408. Brown (Lectures 46, 47) avows himself to be a conceptualist, and contends that all
the nominalists have either in fact admitted or unconsciously implied the truth of this
Dr. Thomas doctrine. He distinguishes three steps or elements in the generalizing process (1) ' the
perception or conception of two or more objects, (2) the relative feeling of their resem-
blance in certain respects, (3) the designation of these circumstances of resemblance by
an appropriate name.' He criticises some expressions of the conceptualists as incautious, particularly
the use of the word idea to express " the feeling of resemblance," because this word " seems almost in
itself to imply something which can be individualized and offered to the senses." " The same remark
may, in a great measure, be applied to the use of the word conception, which also seems to individualize its
object." " The phrase general notion would have been far more appropriate." ' Still more unfortunate is a
verbal impropriety in the use of the indefinite article.' " It was not the mere general notion of the nature
and properties of triangles, but the general idea of a triangle of which writers * * have been accus-
tomed to speak." This has exposed the doctrine of general notions to ridicule, such as Martinus Scriblerus
Is made to use against Locke.
"We may add that the language which Brown employs continually in such phrases as " the feeling of
resemblance," has left the impression that the notion itself is a merely subjective product evolved by the
laws of association, and is therefore as accidental and capricious as the feelings of an individual might
happen to be. This has opened the way for, and given sanction to the views adopted by J. S. Mill and
ethers, which overlook the objective reality of the ground of this feeling in the actual resemblances of na-
ture and the permanent laws and powers of which these are the indications. Against all such views, and
the tendency to adopt them, or even to sanction them by incautious language, the protest of Leibnitz
against Locke, quoted above, is most timely : "The generality of universals consists in the mutual resem-
blance of individual things, and this resemblance is a reality"
§ 409. Hamilton (Lectures on Metaphysics, Lee. 35) criticises Brown severely for misrep-
resenting the nominalists, in asserting that they overlook the fact that resemblance in
Sir William individual objects is the ground of applying to them universal names. Brown may
have overlooked these concessions, but he certainly did not misstate the chief objections
to their theory. Hamilton then labors earnestly to show that discerned or predicated
410 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §410.
resemblance is individual, and not general ; inasmuch, as if likeness exists between a pair of objects, il
must b« an individual relation of likeness. In this be is clearly in the wrong. My act in discerning the-
ikeness of two objects, as two eggs, is an individual act, but tbe relation discerned, tbe likeness, is certainly
common to, i. e., equally afflrmable of, tbe two eggs, and so far forth a general conception or nolion. lie
then adds that we are unfortunate in that the English language is not provided, like the German, witfc
terms appropriate to universal and individual objects. "We have no terms like Begriff and Anschauung.
But what the Begritf signifies, whether a name or a concept, he does not explain. He only asserts that the
peculiarity of the Begriff consists in its being the product of the faculty of comparison, but does not ex-
plain what comparison evolves as its effect or product. He overlooks also the fact that the act of com-
parison is involved in reasoning and perception, as well as in the judgment that produces the concept or
notion.
In his logic, however, and in all the treatment which he gives to the concept, he proceeds upon the
hypothesis of Conceptualism, in the manner in which Eeid qualifies and explains it. Indeed, it would seem
that his peculiar doctrine of tbe syllogism and deductive reasoning can have no meaning on the theory of
Nominalism. And yet he would almost have us believe that he is a Nominalist, and " that the opposing par-
ties are really at one." Hamilton refers with approbation (.Logic, Lee. 10) to the distinction between sym-
bolical and intuitive knowledge which was made by Leibnitz, and which in his view " has superseded in
Germany the whole controversy of Nominalism and Conceptualism, which, in consequence of the non-
establishment of this distinction, * * * bas idly agitated the psychology of this country and of France."
But what this distinction is, he does not explain so far as to say whether the symbol is a mere name or a
universal notion. (Cf. Archbp. "W. Thomson, Outlines of the Necessary Laws of Thought, §§ 25, 47, 48. H. L.
Mansel, Prolcg. Log. chap, i.)
§410. John Stuart Mill, in his Logic, B. i. c. 2, and his Examination of Sir William
Hamilton's Philosophy, chap. 17, earnestly advocates Nominalism. Names are names of
, ?°-n Stuart things, but while they denote things, they also connote the attributes of things. Thushorse
(or chalk) denotes every individual horse (or piece of chalk), but it at the same time
notes or marks, i. e., connotes all that is peculiar to every horse, or to the class horse.
Instead of the term concept, or general abstract nolion, Mill would use class name. The mind, whenever it
uses the class name intelligently, must have some individual object before it, either perceived or remembered.
It need not, however, direct its attention to every part of this individual object. It need think of, i. e.,
attend only to, those parts which the name connotes. It need not think of all of these even, but only of
those which it has occasion to use at the moment for its immediate purposes. Now it is by association that
we connect with a class certain parts of an object, so that when we think of the name, though the whole
object is perceived or imagined, only those parts of the object are attended to which the name connotes.
It is by association that these parts are thus connected with one another in the mind and with the class
name which suggests them when the name is first presented to the mind ; or which they suggest when the
individual object is first perceived, and these parts are attended to.
Thig theory is explained at great length by its able and ingenious defender. In its substantial fea-
tures it is identical with the theory of Hume and of Hobbes. It is defective in the following particulars.
It does not explain the import of parts of things, nor the relation of the parts to the wholes to which they
belong, or in which they inhere. Attributes, properties, and relations, are what are intended by the word
" parts," but what attributes are, and how they can be affirmed or predicated of a thing, is either assumed to
be self-evident, and therefore to need no explanation, or else the relation of attributes to beings is assumed
to be fully expressed by that of parts to a whole. Next, the author overlooks that, when we attend to the
" connoted ?' parts of a single horse, it is not to them as parts of the individual, but as resembling similar parts
in all the horses " denoted." Except as they. are like these parts of the objects of the class, and so serve to
represent them, the thought of them would be of no service whatever ; the mind would rest in the indi-
vidual, and never move a step beyond ; neither the thought nor the name would give us a class object, or a
class name. Next, association is not predication. The mental connection by which when I think of one
object I must think of another, is purely subjective ; it is a movement or tendency which pertains to tho
mind only. The relation thought of, of resembling attributes to other attributes, or of these attributes to
beings, is purely objective. It is as Leibnitz observes, a reality. "When we go a step further, and take in
the relation of these resembling attributes to the laws and causes which they indicate, we strike upon a
deeper vein. Thus, the powers and other obvious qualities connoted by the word horse, indicate an interior
structure fitted for nourishment, strength, spirit, instincts, uses. But the possibility of such relations is
entirely unprovided for by Mill's theory of the concept. Mr. Mill objects to the doctrine of Hamilton,
that we classify and reason by the medium of concepts. He would prefer to say, that we classify and reason
by the medium of names. But he concedes that it is what the names connote, that gives them all their
meaning and application, and that we attend only to those parts of the object, when we use the namo
of the object or think the object under the name : Hamilton moans no more. If Mill supposes him to
teach or to authorize the inference that we form an individual percept or image of the import of the con-
cept by the medium of which we think of an individual thing, he is mistaken as to his meaning. His own
language might also expose him to the charge of teaching that we think of individual objects by the medium
i>f the parts which their individual names connote. The language, that we think by means of a concept, a
§413. THE NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. SKETCH OF THEORIES. 411
class name, or the connotation of a name, is liable to be misconceived, and Mill has done well to guard
against this misconception, but he has unjustly charged upon Hamilton a doctrine which he does not
hold.
§ 411. Herbert Spencer {Principles of Psychology, part i. chaps. 8 and 9) agrees with
Mill and Hume in their leading principles, as already explained.
Herbert Spencer. He recognizes and earnestly insists upon the fact, that we perceive similarity be-
tween things and between the relations of things; also, that the perception of such
relations is not only essential to reasoning and classification, but even to an act of sense*
perception. He urges, that we are not properly said to perceive an object, unless we also generalize and
reason in regard to it.
As to whether we generalize and reason by means of the concept, and what is the nature of the concept
or of the name when thus employed, he raises no questions, and therefore answers none. How we con-
nect these parts, seen to be similar and similarly related, into wholes, and what the wholes are, he does not
explain any further than to refer us to the law of association, by which one suggests another and the
name.
"We scarcely need repeat the remark, that the law of association only accounts for the process by which
these objects come into the mind, but does not at all explain what the mind believes in regard to them.
These so-called objects or parts which are recognized as like and recalled to the mind, are believed to be
attributes. But what attributes are, and what are their relations to their fellow-attributes and to the things
to which they belong, and what is the nature of the object of our thought when we class objects by means
of them, and what its relation to the objects which it denotes : none of these questions are discussed; they
are not even raised by Mr. Spencer.
§ 412. Of the modern German philosophers, Kant should be named first, not only in the
relation of time, but on account of the influence which he has exerted upon all subse-
Immanuel Kant, quent philosophy. Kant distinguished very sharply between individual and general
objects of knowledge, and in the spirit of these aims he introduced many technical terms
which are not only still retained in the German systems, but have been adopted by
English thinkers. Kant's terminology is not only a permanent monument of his own activity, but it has
served to fix some very important distinctions in the minds of speculative men. Kant says very littlo
directly concerning the nature of the concept as the product and object of the mind's activity, or concern-
ing its relation to the objects of sense. Indirectly, however, he treats this topic very fully. First of all,
the concept, der Begriff, is the product and object of the understanding — as the percept die Yorstellung —
der Sinnliche Gegenstand, is the product and object of the action of sense. The image das Bild, das Schema,
is the work of the fantasy, the reproductive and productive. The percept is individual and so is the image-
proper. The concept is general and definite. The Schema is intermediate between the two, being indefi-
nite and movable, and in a certain sense general (cf. § 236). The percept, the image, and the Schema are
all directly apprehended by the mind. The concept is mediately apprehended and mediately applied,
requiring, to be used, that it should be concrete in an individual object, and that an individual should be
understood by means of itself. Knowledge by concepts is preeminently mediate knowledge.
In the concept, the matter is distinguished from the form. The matter is furnished by the senses, the
form is furnished by the understanding. Before the two are brought together, the sense-matter must be-
come a percept in the forms of space and time. The matter of the orange is furnished by all the senses.
This matter becomes the percept orange by taking certain relations to space. It becomes a concept by being
viewed by the understanding as a being with attributes ; which are distinguished from each other, and yet
are common to many individuals, involving the recognition of diversity, similarity, and production or cau-
sation. These and other such forms are given by the understanding itself; which, in acts of thought, as it
were, covers over or invests the matter of the senses with each and all of them. It would seem from
these doctrines, that Kant was eminently a conceptualist, inasmuch as he insists so much upon the conoept
as the medium of thought, and so often repeats the assertion that thought is knowledge by the medium
of concepts. But he does not declare himself such. His treatises are all logical and metaphysical rathei
than psychological. Though a theory of the powers and processes of the soul is constantly implied by him.
it is not presented in the psychological form. It would doubtless have been far better for German philoso-
phy, and for all modern philosophy, if his method had been less metaphysical and more psychological, ne
followed the bad example of the Greek philosophers, and like them left to his disciples and successors a
legacy of profitless subtleties and endless disputes in respect to the nature and meaning of Concept, Idea,
Matter and Form; as well as of Sense, Understanding, and Reason. These terms have been too generally
treated by the later schools, as entities, hypostasized like the ideas of Plato, the forms of Aristotle, and
the substantial forms of the schoolmen.
§ 413. Fichte accepted literally the principle of Kant that the forms of the concept ara
the products of the understanding, and applied it with logical rigor to its appropriate
I. H. Fichte. consequences, viz. : that all the so-called forms of knowledge as contrasted with its mat-
ter, are furnished by the mind's own creative activity. The matter of all knowledge is
a subjective experience of the soul, therefore we can only reach the objective world by
a thought process, i. c, by means of concepts, created or evolved according to the forms of the mind itself
412 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 41 5i
This assumption makes the use of the concept essential to the apprehension of the external world, i. c, to
sense-perception. This reverses the order of dependence which was assumed and supposed hy hoth Nom-
inalists and Conceptualists. These agree in making the real, i. e., the material, produce and go hefore the
name and the concept. Both agree in making the general follow and he dependent upon the individual,
?'. e., the actual. But Fichte would make the individual dependent upon the concept, at leasl for its form.
Upon this theory the whole question respecting the relation of the concept to the individual ohject be-
comes entirely changed. Individual objects are themselves individualized concepts. Heal things are the
creations of the mind. The concept itself becomes an entity, more potent than the idea of Plato or the
form of Aristotle.
§ 414. This direction reached its terminus in the extreme opinion of Hegel, who makee
the concept every thing and the individual nothing, who evolves the real world from
G. W. F. Hegel, the concept, to which he ascribes an infinitude of elements and a power of self-develop-
ment, adequate to produce the boundless varieties of individual things. Should it be
said that this is a misconstruction of his doctrine ; that he treats only of the relation
of concepts to one another, and of individuals only so far as they are conceived or turned into concepts,
the result is the same, so far as our position is concerned ; which is that he does not concern himself with
the relation of the concept to the individual, nor with the nature of the concept as a product of the mind,
□or as a representative of concrete being, but treats it as an all-sufficing and independent entity.
§ 415. Herbart and the philosophers of his school are in as striking contrast with the
other German schools in their views of the concept as in their views of many other
J. F. Horbart. points. Herbart sharply distinguishes the notion viewed psychologically, from the no-
tion as regarded logically. Psychologically viewed, the notion is a growth resulting
necessarily from the repetition of many homogeneous and heterogeneous sense-percep-
tions. The homogeneous are those which naturally blend together, as similar colors, tastes, sounds.
These by repetition enforce one another so as to increase the capacity of the soul for another exercise of
the kind. The heterogeneous are different colors, sounds, etc., preeminently the objects of one sense as
related to those of another, as a color to a sound, and of either to a sight. These combine with one another
into a series under a psychical law of tension, which Herbart claims pertains to the energy of the soul in
passing from one state to another, and which impels the one to recall the other. A homogeneous impres-
sion or a heterogeneous combination, when often enough repeated, becomes a definite concept, either of
a single attribute, as of yellow, round, etc., or of a combination of attributes, as those parts or attributes
which make up the contents or essence of the orange. As to the relation of the concept to things or ma-
terial objects, the views of Herbart do not differ from those of Mill as already explained. The mind
afiirms those parts or elements which have become prominent in the way explained, of their background
of accidental and changeable accompaniments. This background is the individual thing of which they
ure affirmed, as the accidental peculiarities or relations of color, surface and form, belonging to a singly
orange. To affirm the one of the other is constantly to connect the one with the other, under Herbart's
law or theory of Association. In other words, what is ordinarily called the discernment of similarity in
the case of single attributes, Herbart resolves into the subjective blending or enforcement of homogeneous
mental states. What is ordinarily affirmed to be the predication of a concept as belonging to a thing, he
would explain by the necessary suggestion of one part of a series of mental impressions by another, ac-
cording to the laws of the mind's own experience.
A concept is only a partial percept, but stronger in some parts than in others, the stronger parts being
connected with the weaker by the laws of suggestion.
The concept as a logical entity is treated as a fixed and definite whole, made up of its fixed constitu-
ents, or essence. Psychologically viewed, it is not so much a finished whole, a completed product, as it is
a tendency of the mind toward such a product. The mind is always forming concepts of individual objects,
but the process in respect to none of them is necessarily complete. For this reason we can never contem-
plate a concept as an object of the mind's apprehension, separately from the individuals in which it is
realized. We require some individual example of a man, orange, house, etc., to suggest with sufficient
distinctness and force, the parts which the concept represents. The very force with which these are sug-
gested tends to keep out from the attention the weaker parts which are accidental and individual, except
in very extraordinary and exceptional cases. In this way it is that the difficulties urged by Berkeley and
Hume are set aside, and the objections of the Nominalists to the possibility of concepts are answered.
(Cf. Herbart, Psychologic als Wissenschaft, §§120,121. Drobisch, Emp. Psych., §§15, 16,17. "Waltz,
Lehrb. d. Psych., § 20, Volkmann, Grundriss der Psych ., § 98.)
With Schleiermacher, and Schelling in his later years, a better direction was developed in German
philosophy, which has been followed with great zeal by I. H. Fichte, A. Trendelenburg, H. Lotze, H.
Bitter, H. Ulrici, F. Uberweg, and many others. They all labor at the same problem which vexed the
ancient schools— the nature of the concept and its relations to the real object ; or, as expressed in other
language, the relations of Thought to Being.
Cf. J. M. de Gerando, Hist. comp. des Syslcmes de Philosophic 3d ed., Paris, 1847-8. Abelard, Ou-
vrages inedits de, par Vict. Cousin. Paris, 1836. C. de Bemusat, Abelard. Paris, 1845. M. X. Bousselot,
Etudes sur la philosophic dans le moyen-agc. Paris, 1840. B. Ilaureau, De la Philosophic Scolastique.
§ 417. NATURE OP THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS FROM THEORIES. 413
Paris, 1850. H. Ritter, Allg. Geschichle der Philosophic. Hamburg, 1829-53. C. Prantl, Geschichle dei
Logik im Abendlande. Leipzig, 1855-67. Pr. TJeberweg, System der Logilc. etc. Bonn, 2d ed., 1865.
Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophic Berlin, 1868. W. Kaulich, Geschichle d. Scholastischen Philoso
phie. 1 Theil. Prag., 1863.
CHAPTER IV.
THE NATURE OP THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS PROM THE HISTORY OP
THEORIES.
The brief review which we have taken of the various theories of the concept will enable us
to see more clearly and to define more exactly its real nature as a mental product, and
its relations to the objects from which it is formed, and to which it is applied. Every
false or defective theory is founded upon some truth. What that truth is, it is always
important to discover, even when by exaggeration it is distorted into positive error, or,
by omission there is defect and mutilation. The consideration of such defective or ex-
aggerated theories is most useful in enabling us to ascertain the truth in all its relations,
and thus to develop it completely, as well as to distinguish it from errors of excess or
defect. Indeed, it is scarcely possible that a complete and satisfactory exposition of the
nature and relations of the concept should be either furnished or appreciated without a
critical review of the various theories which have been devised and defended in respect
to them. It is scarcely necessary to observe, that the variety of these theories, and the
pertinacity with which they have been defended, indicate that the subject is more than
usually difficult of mastery, and that a satisfactory exposition of it must require a subtle
and copious analysis. In the light of our historical sketch, we observe :
The concept an § ^16. !• The concept, as a mental object or product, is to
anact and not ^e distinguished from the mental act by which it is origi-
nally produced or recalled. The act is necessarily an indi-
vidual act. The concept or product may be general. In other words, it
is possible that the mind should perform individual acts of generalization.
There is no logical inconsistency between the individualization which must pertain to the
act and the generalization which may pertain to the product. When we form — i. e., distin-
guish— for the first time, or reproduce for the thousandth time, the simple concept yellow, or
the complex concept orange, we distinguish the act from the object. We know that the act ia
individual, but this does not imply or involve that the object should be individual also (cf.
Reid, Essays, v., c. vi. § 1).
implies the dis- § 417- 2* The concept, as a mental product and a mental
inTs^a^ittri" object, implies that the distinction of individual beings and
butes. their attributes is accepted as real, and therefore admitted
as possible. The first step in forming the simplest concept, or in finding
the elements out of which it is formed, is the act of making this dis-
tinction.
That this distinction is made and can be thought of by the mind, is asserted or conceded
even by the extremest nominalists. Thus Hobbes says : " One universal name is imposed on
many things for their similitude in some quality or accident" That is, the mind must distin
I
414 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §419
guish the qualities or accidents from things, in order to discern likenesses between them,
Berkeley does indeed say for himself, " I deny that I can abstract one from another, or con-
ceive separately, those qualities which it is impossible should exist so separated." But in
another passage he concedes, " A man may consider a figure merely as triangular, without
attending to the particular qualities of the angles or relations of the sides. So far he may
abstract." Mill is very full and decided in recognizing the distinction of things and their
attributes as the foundation of the universal name {Logic, B. i. c. ii. §§ 4 and 5 ; Review
of Hamilton, c. xvii.). We adduce the testimony of these writers, not because we accept
their authority as decisive, but because their theory of the concept would tempt them to
overlook or deny this distinction if it were possible. If they recognize it, there must be
decisive reasons why they should, and these reasons are found in its necessary truth.
The testimony of consciousness, observation, and language upon this point is decisive.
All men make this distinction, all men accept it, all men express it in the language which they
use and understand. "We cannot discern likeness or unlikeness in any parts or attributes,
without distinguishing them from the objects themselves. But in separating or distinguishing
them, we affirm that they belong to the objects. In what sense they belong or pertain to them, we
need not ask. To what they belong, we need not here discuss. What remains after all the
attributes are removed, or how it is possible that the attribute should be distinguished from the
being from which it cannot be separated, we do not here inquire. The nature of the distinc-
tion of, and the connection between beings and their attributes, will be discussed in its place.
It is enough for us to urge that it is real, and is universally made as the condition of the forma-
tion and the ground of the reality of concepts.
§ 418. 3. The attribute is always known or apprehended as
object. a reae related to a thing or being. It is always held by the mind
as attributable to or predicable of some being or thing. As
an object of thought, it is a related entity or object, or an object in
relation. Its import, or what is thought of by the mind, is not the
object as such, but the object as related, or the object together with its
relation.
We rest, at this stage of our analysis, to inquire, whether it is possible for the mind to
conceive or think of a related object or of an object as related. The question is not whether
the mind can contemplate the relation as such without the object, but whether, when the
object is before the mind, another element can be added, viz., its relation. To select the
simplest example: The mind knows the percept red; it knows it as the attribute of some
being, viz., as the attribute red.
It would seem that there ought to be no question of the truth of this assertion, if the
definition given of knowledge is correct, that it is the apprehension of entities in their rela-
tions. Whatever the mind can know, it can apprehend or think of. If it can know a related
object, it can think of such an object.
8 419. 4. The attribute, which, as we have seen, necessarily
involves the ° * ' ' •>
^SSSt011 °f includes the two relations of being separated from and connect-
ed with a being, is next viewed in the relation of similarity to
other individual attributes, constituted and known like itself. The indi-
vidual red is compared with other individual reds, and there is added tc
its import its likeness to them.
It is often said (cf. Mill, Logic, B. i. c. i.), that we might affirm the individual attribute
of an individual object, as white of an egg or of chalk, without discerning a similar attribute
§421. NATUKE OF THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS FEOM THEORIES. 415
in any other object. That this is possible, is true ; but it is also possible to go further, and
to discern its likeness to other individual attributes. This is also usually done, whenever an
attribute is expressed in language. The similar is conceived as the same (cf. § 383). But
when the similar is thus recognized as the same, the additional relation of similarity is ob-
served by the mind and represented by the term. The mind adds this third relation to the
two others already considered, and the three are included in what the mind thinks or knows
in the meaning or signification of the word.
§ 420. 5. The attribute thus formed, having a common ap-
ttaming.use °r plication to all similar beings, may be used to desiguate both
like attributes and like beings — i. e., it may be used for the
purposes of naming. The function of naming does not consist in affixing
an oral or written symbol, an articulate sound, or a written character.
This is an accidental circumstance, a mere appendage for convenience.
The mental function or import of the name is its use in recognition or
description.
The recognition may be of an object as similar or as identical. Again, we recognize
objects as attributes or as beings. But so far as we do this by attributes proper, we employ
single attributes or a combination of the same. Thus we may use red as an attribute, or red
as a noun — the red or the reds ; ordinarily, however, we use many attributes combined, as in
the concept, the red currant. When we describe, we simply cause others to recognize the
objects described, and by methods similar to those which we use for ourselves.
All that we need here to notice is, that, when the concept is used to denote objects, an
additional relation is taken into its meaning, and this relation is apprehended by the mind.
This denoting import of the concept enlarges its meaning by another relation.
§ 421. 6. The use of the concept in a system of classifica-
agSit. assi^mg tion enlarges its meaning still further. The capacity of the
concept to be a classifier, arises from two circumstances : the
fact that the attribute which is its germ, is common to more or fewer
individual beings, and the fact that these attributes are very unequally
distributed. Whenever it happens that one attribute, as red, belongs to
more beings than another attribute, as sour ; then the red may denote
the larger class — i. e., the genus ; and the sour, the smaller or subordinate
class — i. e., the species. Sour, in such a case, may be the differentia of
the species — the sour-reds. If oval is universally present with the species
sour-reds, it would be a property ; if hirsute were sometimes present and
sometimes absent, it would be an accident of the same species. The ap-
plication of any attribute in all or any of these class-relations, obviously
gives an addition to its import. "When a concept is used to classify,
another relation is thereby taken up into its meaning, and its meaning is
thereby so much enlarged.
That the intellectual process of classification is subsequent to that which underlies the
process of naming — i. e., the act of recognition or description — is evident from a moment's
thought. Both involve what may be called generalization — i. e., the use of the concept as
general or as common to more or fewer individuals. One only is generification — that is, the
arrangement of these individuals into higher and lower classes. The second only recognizes
416 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §423.
the fact that these concepts are unequally distributed, some belonging to more and others to
fewer individuals, and that they therefore are a means by which these may be classed as genera
and species. The process and the product in the second case, both imply and are built upon
the process and product in the first. In the first, we bring the individual under the general,
by the direct act of forming the general from the individual in the way described. We know
the individual under this concept or general name. In the second, we perform the reflex act
of taking the general to divide all the individuals to which it belongs into their classes as
higher or lower. The relation thereby established in the concept itself is both accidental and
variable, according to the use to which it is put in classification. The same concept may be
generic, specific, differential, propriate, or accidental, according to the material to which, and
the use in which it is applied.
it is applied to § 422. 7. Whenever the mind uses a general term intelli-
groundof ?£ im- gently, it must understand or conceive the import which
belongs to it in some or all of the particulars which we have
enumerated. We do not intend that the mind consciously distinguishes
and dwells upon each of these relations, but that, in forming and apply-
ing such terms, it must have recognized and thought of them all. The
question in dispute between the different parties is, what object the mind
thinks of or has before itself when it uses general terms. Our previous
analysis has, we think, established that it thinks of all these thought-
relations, and that they all enter into the distinctive import or meaning
of the concept as such. If this is what the conceptualist contends for
when he asserts that the mind must think, form, and have a concept of
these generalized attributes, as often as it employs a general term, he is
so far in the right. If the nominalist contends that the concept is only
a general name — i. e., a name which the mind applies to many objects —
he is manifestly in the wrong. What the mind considers, is not the name,
but the meaning or import of the name.
It is the name as applicable — that is, as for some reason or other proper to be applied.
It is the name as general — that is, the name with an import. If it be granted that not a
single element of this import could be discerned without the aid of the name — i. e., without
the instrumentality of language — still it is not the name as such, but the name as enabling us
to conceive of the relation, that renders the aid which we seek for.
The import is § 423* 8* ^Qe mm^ cannot conceive or acquire knowledge
indTTd^is by °^ ^e ^mPort °f any concept, except by means of some
individual example of the qualities or relations which it
includes. We cannot know what single sensible attributes signify, as
red, sweet, smooth, etc., without the actual experience of the sensation
which each occasions, or of one that is analogous. So is it with the con-
cepts of simple acts and states of the soul, as to perceive, to imagine,
to love, to choose. The same is true of the concepts that are clearly
complex, as house, tent, hnife, tree, horse, meadow, mountain, valley, town-
ship, legislature, authority, icealth, value, rent, wages, feudalism, civil-
ization. Of all these concepts, the elements must first have been made
intelligible to the mind by their application — i. e., by being observed,
§424. NATUBE OF THE CONCEPT. — CONCLUSIONS FROM THEORIES. 417
experienced, or thought, in some individual being or agent. As we
enumerate the constituents that make up the content of these concepts,
and ask ourselves or others what is the meaning of each, we must employ
some individual thing or act in order to explain our meaning to ourselves
or to others. If we cannot reach the individual, we must do what is
next best — we must refer to some being or act which is as nearly like it
as possible. This is as true of the so-called relations as it is of qualities.
Quality, identity, height, depth, etc., can only be understood by their
being discerned in some individual thing or object — material or spiritual,
as the case may be.
But how is it when the meaning of the concept has been already acquired, both in its
separate elements, and as united into a complex whole ? Do we then need to go back to
some concrete instance, in order to recall the import of the concept, or of the term by which
it is named ? "We reply, that depends upon the use to which the knowledge is to be applied.
If the import is not recalled, so far at least as we have occasion to know it, then we must go
back to some being or thing in which it is exemplified. We cannot know a quality or quali-
ties, a relation or relations, except as exemplified in some individual being or thing, for the
plain reason that these have no signification except as belonging to beings or things. We
cannot know what red is, except by the inspection of something red ; what imagining or
remembering are, except as an individual spirit imagines or remembers ; what equality, identity,
height, or depth are, except as some object is known as equal to another or identical with
itself, or as high or low as compared with another.
8 424. 9. Every concept is capable of being referred to an
The concept can . . . ., . .
be referred to in- individual thing or image, and every individual or image can
dividual objects. , . , , . t
be thought into a concept.
This proposition reconciles the strife between the nominalist and the
conceptualist. The nominalist asserts that the only ideas which we can
frame or mental objects which we can think of, are individual. Bishop
Berkeley insists : " The idea of man that I frame to myself must be
either of a white, or a black or a tawny, a straight or a crooked, a tall,
or a low or a middle-sized man ; " plainly implying that we can form no
other thought of man, and can by no means go beyond such an idea of
an individual.
The conceptualist, in insisting that the concept must ignore and neglect
the individual and his characteristics, often entirely overlooks the depend-
ence of the concept upon the image or individual thing as the originator
or the condition of its materials, and the explainer of its import. Locke
says, in effect, " the general idea of a triangle " " must be neither oblique,
nor rectangle, neither equilateral, equicrural, nor scalenon, but all and
none of these at once." " In effect it is ... an idea in which some
parts of several different and inconsistent ideas are put together." It is
plain that neither of these writers fully appreciates the relation of the indi-
vidual to the concept, or the relation of the concept to the individual.
Berkeley does indeed say, " An idea, which, considered in itself, is par-
ticular, becomes general by being made to represent or stand for all other
27
418 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §424
particular ideas of the same sort." But how the individual can represent
particular ideas, he does not explain, and seems never to have considered.
This thought brings the subject to a distinct issue, in the
piafnSi? coss es~ questions, ' How can one individual represent other indi-
viduals ? or, How can the individual explain and illustrate
the general ? or, How can the image be the occasion of the concept ? A
concept is general, an image is individual, how can you think the one into
the other ? ' The sides of every individual triangle must have a definite
length, and the angles a definite measurement and relation. Every individ-
ual man has in like manner a definite height, form, color, etc. We think
these into concepts, not by overlooking the individual relations of each,
but by considering their likeness to other attributes in other respects — the
sides and angles, not in their individual relations, but simply as sides and
angles — i, e., as bounding a figure and as being contained within two
lines. We do not properly leave out of view what is individual, as the
color of the man, his size, height, etc. In one sense we keep these in
view, in order to compare their likeness with other colors, etc. We do not
so much leave any thing out of view, as we add the new relations of like-
ness which the formation of the concept involves. When we form the
concept by the image, or bring back the concept to the image, we simply
view the image in certain additional relations. An object viewed without
thought-relations, is an image. An image with these relations added,
becomes a concept. The knowledge which we have of the one is limited
and partial ; the knowledge of the other is fuller and more complete.
It is true that, when we think the image, we give our attention to fewer
elements; but we are not obliged to overlook or omit these when we
regard others. Least of all do we introduce into the concept elements
that are inconsistent or incompatible, and make — i. e., image — a triangle
which is neither rectangular, acute, or obtuse, as Locke asserts is neces-
sary and as Berkeley objects is impossible.
The fact is, that the concept is, by its nature, a related object — i. e.t a
its very nature, thought related to a being or thing. It requires the image to make it intel-
indiviS to ^ 15gible or complete. It supposes an image to which it belongs. It is all the
while seeking the individual from which it was formed, and to which it should
be applied.
The intimacy of its relation to and its dependence upon the image is implied by the con-
stant necessity of imaging our concepts, or of translating the same into facts of sense or
consciousness. "Would we be sure of the import of a concept, we must carry it or its
elements back to their concrete original, or to the picture of such an original which the
phantasy can recall or create. Would we be sure of its truth or validity, we must test our
theory or conjecture, by going back in experience or imagination to the original things, acts,
or events by which the qualities or relations concerned can be validated.
It is curious and instructive to notice here, that every man images the con-
Eifferent images ceptg which he employs or hears of, by examples that are peculiar to himself,
same concept. and which are derived from his individual experience or observation. If his
experience or education is marked by very striking peculiarities, the concrete
§ 425. NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. — CONCLUSIONS FROM THEORIES. 419
examples suggested by concepts and general names will be as peculiar. An Esquimaux, a
Chinese, and a European, would picture very different objects to the imagination, on hearing
or reading the words state, legislation, wealth, money, wages, civilization, fashion ; and even
the more concrete terms, house, city, ship, oar, sail, knife, feast, procession, township,
meadow. Two inhabitants of the same countr}', and sharing in substantially the same expe-
rience, interpret the import of the commonest and most familiar terms by very different
instances or examples. And yet their concepts are substantially the same, inasmuch as their
more important and essential attributes remain unchanged, however greatly their individual
exemplifications may differ.
This circumstance explains how there may be a community of thoughts, with a verj
diverse experience. The nature of things and the nature of man remains unchanged. The
same powers, laws, and ends are perpetually reappearing, the same principles are continually
illustrated, under forms the most unlike.
.. If the concepts which we ourselves employ or which others present to our
ized concepts minds, are highly abstract or very complex in their elements, the chances are
imaged?64 t0 be greatty increased that an appropriate concrete individual object will not be
readily suggested, because it is so many removes from the attenuated abstrac-
tion, or because, by reason of the complexness of the concept, some one element fails of
being distinctly represented or clearly discerned. Hence, in those sciences which abound in
terms and concepts of this description — concepts which do not readily suggest individual
instances — illustrations should frequently be introduced, in order to keep both the meaning
of the concepts and the evidence for their truth fully and freshly before the mind. Otherwise,
the most gifted and best-trained student will fail to follow the discussion with complete intelli-
gence and hearty assent. There is danger that many will be satisfied with a confused inter-
pretation or a partial conviction. It may even happen that, through lack of the concrete and
individual to support the abstract, the mind will take its revenge by turning the abstractions them-
selves into realities ; will personify them into concrete beings, and invest them with the attributes
and functions of powers or things in nature.
Such words as the absolute, the infinite, the true, the beautiful, the good, the just, the equal
— even such names as heat, life, light, etc., etc., are often used as though they were individual
and concrete entities, instead of requiring entities to realize and explain them. Through fre-
quent repetition as sounds, they seem to be intelligible as things, and we presume that our
mastery over their meaning is complete, when we only very imperfectly comprehend their
import, and are able very inadequately to explain or apply them.
Hobbes remarks very pertinently {Leviathan, part i. ch. 4), "A man that seeketh precise truth hath
need to remember what every name he uses stands for, and to place it accordingly ; or else he will find
himself entangled in words as birds in lime-twigs ; the more he struggles, the more belimed." "For the
errors of definitions multiply themselves, according as the reckoning proceeds ; and lead men into absurdi-
Vies which at last they see, but cannot avoid, without reckoning anew from the beginning, in which lies
the foundation of their errors. From whence it happens, that they which trust to books, do as they that
cast up many little sums into a greater, without considering whether these little sums were rightly cast up
or not ; and at last, finding the error visible, and not mistrusting their first ground, know not which way
to clear themselves ; but spend time in fluttering over their books, as birds that entering by the chimney,
and finding themselves inclosed in a chamber, flutter at the false light of a glass window, for want of wit
to consider which way they came in." " As men abound in copiousness of language, so they become moro
wise or more mad than ordinary. Nor is it possible without letters to become excellently wise or excel-
lently foolish."
§ 425. 10. "When the concept is furnished with a name, the
iidedCObyP the mind is gradually accustomed to interpose the verbal sign
The necessity of between the concepts and the individual beings and events
language.
which exemplify and illustrate them. In this way the
I
420 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §425
processes of the mind are greatly facilitated, and the attainments of the
mind are enlarged and rendered more permanent.
How it is that the mind is qualified, prompted, and taught to use language, we need not
Here inquire. We have only to recognize the service which the use of language renders to
our thinking in general, and in the formation and use of concepts in particular. We scarcely
need remark, that the name may be either a spoken or written word. It may even be a
descriptive or arbitrary gesture or sign. It may be the name of a being, an act, an attribute,
or a relation, or of some or all combined in a term or proposition. The reasons why language
aids our thinking are the following :
(«.) The name is both a sensuous and an individual object.
suous^V^iSdi- It presents to our sense-perceptions a definite object, which
we can readily evoke, distinctly apprehend, and easily and
unmistakably repeat. What it represents, is indeed abstract and general,
but the name itself is an individual object of sense-perception.
Were it possible for the mind to gain and hold a concept not connected with a sense-
object, it would not rest content, but would cast about in order to find some such concrete
object to which to attach it. If a sensuous word has been associated with the abstract con-
cept, such an object at once presents itself far more quickly, perhaps, than any of the manj
things or images by which the abstract might be imaged.
The word addresses a single sense, the ear or the eye singly, or the two combined. Ir
either case it is ready to appear when called for. The winged word flies to our aid, and the
ghostly product of thought is at once embodied before the senses.
(b.) The word is the sign, not of the whole of the individual
It is a sign of a \ / ... . , ; . ^•n ^i
part of the reia- thing or being which might image or exemplify the concept,
viduai. but of a portion of its attributes or relations. In conse-
quence, words present a greater variety and refinement of objects than
exist in the world of nature. The words red, fruit, acid-fruit, currant,
cherry-currant, may all be imaged or exemplified by the same sense-object,
viz., the fruit before us. Red stands for a single one of its properties ;
fruit, for several ; red fruit, for yet others ; currant, for more ; and
cherry-currant, for even more. So the words company, an organized
company, and a legislature, may all be illustrated by the same body of
individuals which the senses discern, while each of the words represents
more or fewer of their attributes or relations.
These attributes are present in a vast variety of single objects, themselves most unlike in
every other respect. These attributes and relations are the special objects of the mind's con-
sideration and pursuit in the exercise of its higher functions. The gain is immense which is
secured when each can be attached to its single sensuous name, and can thus be distinctly
pictured to the imagination, recalled by the memory, and separated from all its accidenta]
surroundings, leaving the mind undistracted by attendant circumstances. Each attribute k
thus definitely fixed in the mind and retained as a permanent possession. It may, perhaps, have
been discovered by very careful and earnest attention, or separated by the nicest and most
pains-taking analysis, or evolved and suggested by another property as remote or obscure as
itself; but if, as soon as it is evolved, it is enshrined in a word, sensuous, brief, easily mas-
tered, recognized and recalled, this obscure and entangled property, which might have been
§ 425. NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. — CONCLUSIONS EROM THEORIES. 421
overlooked at a second view of the object which suggested it, cannot easily sink back again
out of thought or remembrance.
To fix and represent every attribute by a word, is also necessary for the service of com-
munication which language performs. Another mind could not be brought to direct its atten-
tion to the attribute and property which we with difficulty discern, unless the attribute were
represented by a name. This, however, does not weaken, but rather confirms its service t«
thought, in rendering its acquisitions permanent and ready for use.
Names prepare (c.) Names enable us to add to our stock of logically
tions eIndS dls- dependent concepts. One concept is dependent upon and
grows out of another. To form one concept, prepares us to
form another, and is often the essential condition of its existence.
The second is often entirely dependent upon the first by a logical and psychological con-
nection. Unless the first is clearly discerned and firmly held, the second cannot possibly be
reached. The name sets it distinctly and permanently before the mind, and enables us to
make of it a stepping-stone to the next acquisition, which without the name would have been
unattainable.
Names suggest (&) Names aid most efficiently in rapid thinking, by sparing
wkwhheweatil£ us tne necessity of dwelling on the entire import of the
quke. word itself. Though the name usually represents a complex
concept, and the concept to be understood must be illustrated by some
concrete example, yet the mind may use names intelligently without
pausing to apprehend more than a small portion of their meaning. In
conversation or quick discourse, as well as in reading by the eye, only
enough of this import is perceived to satisfy the present occasion — all
else is omitted. Even whole sentences, when they are familiar, are re-
ceived as the sign of a single concept or relation, viz. : that which the
present occasion requires.
This can only happen when the language is familiar to the eye and the ear, so that, as the
eye and the ear each catch enough to identify the word or phrase, the mind also catches
enough of the import to satisfy the present occasion. Were not the words addressed to the
senses, and capable of rapid formation and reception, they could not serve this rapid applica-
tion. Without the assistance of names, such a partial apprehension of the import of so great
a variety of generalized attributes would be impossible. It is true, the quick eye of the hunts-
man, the engineer, or the physiognomist, can read signs with a rapid and almost lightning
glance, and thus without words apply the generalizations of previous observation. But their
range of objects and relations is limited when compared with the generalizations to which
language accustoms the mind. So wonderful is the power of words to facilitate the processes
of thought, that names seem almost to become beings, and to attain an independent and sepa-
rate existence of their own ; and the world of words takes its place side by side with the world
of things : cf. Leibnitz, Med. de cog. ver. et ideis ; also Hamilton, Zogic,Lec. 10 ; J. S. Mill,
Exam, of JTam.Js Phil., chap. xvii. ; H. L. Mansel, Prol. Log., chap. i. ; Burke, Essay on the
Sublime and Beautiful, part v.
monsStes3 the (6*) Experience teaches that, without the aid of names, the
value of i an- mind makes little progress in forming or applying its con*
thought. cepts. The use of language, and of spoken language even,
422 THE HUMAN INTELLECT § 42 G.
is found to be almost essential to successful thought. Without language,
the discriminations of attributes are few, the generalizations are narrow
and limited, the power to enter into and receive the thoughts of others
is almost dormant.
Many have gone so far as to conclude that, without words — i. e., names — we cannot thinls
at all. Experience with deaf-mutes, who have acquired little even of the language of signs,
disproves this extreme conclusion. These show, by their actions, that they generalize — i. e.,
form concepts — to a limited extent. They classify and arrange observations, they analyze and
compare attributes, they apply principles in deduction and infer them from data. But while
they show that it is not impossible to think without names, they also prove most conclusively
that, without such aid, it is impossible to think with much effect. As soon as they learn to
form and use names by the mastery of signs and written language, their power of thought is
greatly quickened, and their stock of concepts is rapidly increased. But the language of thi
eye alone, which is the only language at their command, is immeasurably below the language
of the ear in the fineness and variety of its material, as well as in its capacity for ready assimi-
lation and recall. Still, the surprising acquisitions made by deaf-mutes, in spite of all the
disadvantages under which they suffer, are a signal proof that the mind is not restricted to
any one kind of material out of which to form for itself a language ; that words, in whatever
form, are only the signs of thought, and are not essential to thought itself.
This explains These facts all explain how and why the nominalist was led
Se ifo°m5aieistof to a<^opt tne opinion that there is nothing in the universe
but beings and names, and that the only generals or univer-
sals conceivable are names.
The concept without the name is almost as though it were not. It has no effective exist-
ence. It can be retained and recalled and used only to a limited extent. The number of con-
cepts that can be formed without words is small. The number that can be communicated even
by the language of signs is inconsiderable, and these are of little service in the higher devel-
opments and functions of the mind.
it roves also "^is YerJ analysis 0I> tne relation of the name to the thing,
that the name however, proves as decisively that the name can be formed
requires a con- *- *
cept. from or applied to the being or thing, only as it represents a
concept, and that the concept furnishes all the import which the word can
ever represent or possess.
If it should be conceded that not a single concept was ever formed without a name, it
would still be true that the word could neither exist nor be applied to an individual thing ex-
cept as a concept was also generalized into being. If the word is the body of which the con-
cept is the soul, the concept may still be as essential to the existence of the name as the soul
is to the conception or reality of the body. Except as representing the concept, the name is
an irrational sound, an insignificant mark or series of characters. It cannot signify a thing,
except as it stands for its generalized attributes and relations, and these are a concept.
The truth rep- § 426# llm The reallst asserts for the concept a still higher
ausem\ted by re_ import and use. The truth which is the basis of his theory
is, that every real concept should suggest or express some
one or more of the essential 'properties and unchanging laws of individual
§ 426. NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS EEOM THEORIES. 423
beings. He is not content with the view of the nominalist, which makes
the general term a mere class-name for the simple convenience of language,
nor with the view of the conceptualist, who regards the concept as a chance-
assemblage of attributes. He insists that the concept ought to signify
and represent the most important of all descriptions of knowledge, the
knowledge of that which is permanent and universal. This is the truth
that has given currency and influence to the realistic theory, though this
theory has often been expressed in extravagant and metaphorical lan-
guage, and been defended by insufficient arguments.
All individual objects of nature have their essential elements. These
exist under constant conditions, and are produced by permanent forces,
according to fixed laws and ends. The constituents, conditions, causes,
laws, and ends of individual objects are often called their inner truth,
their essential nature, their true meaning, their real and permanent being.
The individual mass of earth or ore, the single crystal, leaf, herb, tree, fish,
Accidental prop- bird, reptile, quadruped, and man, have accidental relations of position, form,
tkms! an ie a" s^ze? c°l°r> or taste ; they exigt here or there for a longer or shorter period of
time, but these relations are of little or no importance for many of the higher
ends of knowledge and of practice. They are observed by one and another, they interest more
or fewer persons, they differ in a greater variety of inferior and accidental features. Thekind,
the class, the genus and species, have certain common characteristics which are known to all,
and which indicate many others which are also of wide and deep significance. These are every-
where present. They are constantly perpetuated by the reproduction of the individual, and
they can never fail. Their place in the universe is never vacant, and their importance in that
economy by which the designs of nature are constantly accomplished is always the same. It
is to reach the knowledge of these elements, causes, laws, and designs, that concepts are formed,
classes are arranged, and names are given. As we have seen already, many of the earliest
classifications and concepts are rude and unsatisfactory for scientific purposes, because they
are founded upon attributes that are superficial and narrow in their significance and indicate
few or none of the permanent elements and laws of being. These are gradually outgrown and
displaced by others which are discovered to suggest more comprehensive agencies and more
pervading laws.
. . On the other hand, there are certain classifications and con-
Permanent clas- . 7
sifications and cepts which, though formed very earlv, are never laid aside,
concepts. r ' ° J J\ '
because, though the attributes are obvious and even obtru-
sive, they coincide with the results of the nicest analysis and the inmost
penetrating insight. Such are the concepts that are formed of the dif-
ferent species of animal and vegetable being, each one of which indicates
and expresses many qualities and laws which science as yet has been
unable adequately to discover and resolve.
No better illustration can be adduced of the differing import of different
The classifica- kinds of concepts and classes, than is furnished by the history of botany,
tions of Botany. Linnaeus hit upon the convenient expedient of classing the different individual
plants by the number of the stamina that appear in their flowers. The
classes were subdivided into orders by the number of pistils. The device was convenient, be-
cause all plants have flowers, and the number of the stamens and pistils is in most cases con
424 THE HUMAK INTELLECT. § 426
stant, and presents a ready means for their division and subdivision into classes. To a certain
extent this division meant or signified something. The number of stamens and pistils, in some
cases was found to indicate other common characteristics of some importance, and seemed to
point to deeper qualities and laws. But this was by no means universally the case. The
classes and orders that were founded upon the number of these organs, were concepts that
interested no one, because they signified nothing in respect to the structure or the germina-
tion, the growth or the habits, the flower or the fruit, and it was abandoned for another sys-
tem of classes and nomenclature, which was founded on indications of greater practical and
scientific significance.
, The importance that is attached to the act of assigning an
The name usual- . . , L o o
ly signifies a individual to a class, and the giving it a name, can only be
permanent and 7 ° ° 1 j
important thing, explained by the underlying assumption not consciously
developed or expressed by the great mass of men but still tenaciously
adhered to, that if we can class and name an object, we are in the way
of learning something more in regard to its nature and laws.
The child is in a measure satisfied to learn the name of an object; and when an unob-
served feature of likeness with another is indicated, it seems to see in this a clue to some new
discovery. Starting upon this quest, it forms and changes its concepts and classes, till it
reaches those which in some degree answer to the principles and laws which scientific knowl-
edge unfolds.
nenT concepts ^e rePresentation by our concepts of these permanent and
theui. tvin.ls scientific relations of individual things is what the realists
sought hy the °
realist. 0f all ages and all schools have had in view, more or less
distinctly indeed, when they' contended that every real concept had a
permanent and undying existence in nature ; that to every general notion
or universal, there was a real and permanent essence, of which every in-
dividual shared a portion; and that the participation of this essence
made the individual to be what it is in its divinest, and most important
elements.
This general truth has been expressed in a great variety of phrases, many of them poetic
and figurative, the use of which in philosophy in their literal acceptation, has wrought no
little error and confusion of thought. This poetic and over-statement has in its turn given
rise to an injurious reaction, in the form of a corresponding external and superficial theory
of the importance of concepts, classification, and naming.
The mistakes of the realists have been twofold. They have.
The mistakes of \y0i\^ in language and thought, confounded the subjective
the realists. ° ° 1 i 1 ' «
concept, which is a purely psychological product, with its
objective correlate — the related elements which it represents or indicates ;
and have often called both by the same name, and invested them with
the same properties. They have used a highly metaphoric terminology
to express the nature of universals, and their relations to individual beings.
The ideas of Plato and the Platonists, present from eternity in the Divine mind ; the
forms of the Aristotelians, incapable of existing apart from matter, yet essential to every
material thing and species ; the substantial and essential forms of the schoolmen, as well a?
§426. NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS EROIVI THEORIES. 42 J
their univcrsals ante rem and a parte rei; the forms and ideas of Kant; the notion of Hegel,
self-moving from the empty yet posited nothing, and self-developed by constant growth into all
the fulness of the idea, with the power claimed for this notion to pass into the objective, giv-
ing the world of material being, and then to return to itself so as by self-conscious affirma-
tion and distinction to blossom into spirit and thus complete the circle of absolute knowledge ;
— all these are examples of the exaggerations and personifications of realism in its endeavors
to express a most important truth. This truth has already been explained. The concept,
viewed as a subjective product of the mind's activity, consists of one or more logically compati-
ble attributes. Any attribute can constitute or enter into a concept as thus conceived, and make
up its essence — i. e., its nominal or logical essence ; for the logical essence is nothing but its
constituent attributes (§ 393). We can form as many concepts, each with its own essence, as
the laws of arithmetical combination will allow, and assign each to as many places in a system.
But when we take our concepts from or apply them to individual beings or things, we find
that the concept has another meaning and importance. The question which then arises is,
What does the concept signify of things, their powers, causes, laws, and ends ? We are then
obliged to consider, not the essence of the concept as a logical fiction, but its relation to the
most important properties and laws of individual and actual beings as viewed in their essential
or scientific relations.
We may concede that the conceptualist, and even the nominalist, are in the right when
they explain the import and meaning of the concept and the name, so far as they are viewed
as subjective creations of the mind, or so far as their office is concerned in defining and dis-
tinguishing groups of things, and yet contend that they are entirely wrong in overlooking what
of deeper import they represent in the things which they arrange, and in failing to see that
naming and classification lock to something higher.
That they cannot wholly overlook these higher relations is clear from important passages in Locke and
J. Stuart Mill. In a most important chapter of the Essay of Locke, in which he contends at great length
for the wholly subjective character of the concept and its nominal essence, he observes, that there is also a
real essence, viz., " that real constitution of any thing which is the foundation of all those properties that
are combined in and are constantly found to coexist with the nominal essence ; that particular constituting
which every thing has within itself, without any relation to any thing without it." Essay, B. iii. ch. vi. § 6-
John Stuart Mill also wiites in the vein of an ultra -nominalist :
" It is a fundamental principle in logic, that the power of framing classes is unlimited, as long as there
is any (even the smallest) difference to found a distinction upon The number of possible classes,
therefore, is boundless ; and there are as many actual classes (either of real or imaginary things) as there
are general names, positive and negative together."
Bat among these classes he recognizes important differences— as between the class animal or plant, or
the class sulphur or phosphorus on the one hand, and the class white or red on the other— in that the
things covered by the one differ only in certain particulars which may be numbered, " while others differ
in more than can be numbered, more, even than we need ever expect to know." ""White things, for ex-
ample, are not distinguished by any common properties except whiteness ; or, if they are, it is only by such
as are in some way dependent upon or connected with, whiteness. But a hundred generations have not
exhausted the common properties of animals or of plants, of sulphur or phosphorus ; nor do we suppose
them to he exhaustible, but proceed to new observations and experiments, in the full confidence of discover-
ing new properties which were by no means implied in those we previously knew." " There is no impro-
priety in saying, that of these two classifications, the one answers to much more radical distinction in the
things themselves, than the other does." " Now these classes, distinguished by unknown multitudes of
properties, and not solely by a few determinate ones, are the only classes which, by the Aristotelian logi-
cians, were considered as genera and species." System of Logic, etc., B. iii. c. vi. § 6.
The careful student and critic will see, that in these remarks, this ultra-nominalist asserts the whole
truth which was at the basis of the Realistic theory. The only defect which is fairly chargeable upon him
is, that he fails to ask and to answer the question, What is the reason why, in the one kind of classes, we
believe that an inexhaustible number of properties mutually dependent are signified, while \n the other no
such properties are looked for? According to his philosophical principles, he would be able to give no othtr
answer, than, that experience teaches us that we find this true of certain classes and not of others. But
Bimple experience, if it would teach that some characteristics indicate in fact a greater number of accom-
1:26 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 427.
panying properties, would certainly net authorize the confident inference that many more that are as yet
undiscovered, i. e., as yet unexperienced, remain. "While, then, Mill asserts the fact that justifies and ex-
plains a candid interpretation of Eealism, he shows himself entirely incompetent to explain the fact which
he concedes, or our belief in it. For this his philosophy is neither sufficiently profound nor liberal.
\re there per- ^0*s subject has, of late, assumed a very great interest and
mauent classes importance among naturalists, in connection with the ques-
and species in * ° ' -1
nature ? tion of the permanence of species in the natural and vegeta-
ble kingdoms. Certain naturalists contend that none of the so-called
species are permanent, either in the plan of nature, or its actual divi-
sions ; that every one of them has been developed by evolution from
previously existing types, which owed their form and apparent per-
manence to certain conditions or laws that were but temporary in their
action and transitory in their results. In this way Darwin, ( Origin of
Species, etc.,) Huxley, and others, reason from certain varieties produced
within species, that all species existing at present, have been themselves
developed. Herbert Spencer, by a broader application of the same
general assumption, makes every type of existence, both material and
spiritual, to have been developed from lower forms, which are held in
being till forms still higher and more exalted shall displace them. On
the other hand, Owen, Agassiz, and Dana find that the classifications of
science must assume a more permanent and firmer foundation for the
species wThich they accept, in the action of permanent forces after the fixed
types that are contemplated in the unchanging plan and the manifested
thoughts of God. In this assumption they reach the scientific truth of
the bold metaphors of Plato, who taught that by definition and division,
we find in the temporary and phenomenal the eternal and real ideas
which exist in unsoiled and unalloyed purity in the mind of the Deity alone.
(Cf. Agassiz, Essay on Classification.)
The relation of § 42^' 12* ^ne analysis which has been given of the nature
tumv°eliCkn0owi" °^ t'^ie concept anc* its relations to the individual object or
edge. image, explains more exactly the relation of what is called
symbolic, mediate, or logical knowledge, to that w7hich is intuitive, imme-
diate and experimental.
We have already spoken of this distinction in a general way (§ 383).
We return to it again, for the sake of greater exactness. Knowledge by
concepts is symbolic, mediate and logical. Knowledge by direct appre-
hension, wmether in connection with consciousness or perception, is called
intuitive.
When I perceive a sense-object, as a man, a house, or tree, or am conscious of an indivi-
dual state of spiritual activity, or discern with the mind's eye a mathematical figure, I know
intuitively each of these objects. When I recognize either as belonging to a class, or give to
either a name, I am said to know it by means of the concept or name ; and these concepts or
oames are said to be media or symbols, which I employ in knowing. This distinction, as thus
stated, originated with Leibnitz, and much has been made of it by later thinkers, as Kant and
Dthcr German philosophers, as also by Hamilton, Manscl, and Morell among the English. This
§427. NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS FROM THEORIES. 427
passage has eo great an historical importance that we transcribe it at length. Mill, in bis
examination of Hamilton's Philosophy contends that it relates to words as symbols, and not to
symbolic concepts. A closer examination will show that both are included in the author's
meaning. See above, § 425. 10. (d.)
Plerumque autem, praesertim in analysi longiore, non totam simul naturam rei intucmur, sed rerum
loco signis utimur, quorum explicationem in prsesenti a'iqua cogitatione compendii causa solemus prseter-
mittere, scientes, aut credentes nos earn habere in potestate : ita cum cbiliogonum sea polygonum mille
sequalium laterum cogito, non semper naturam lateris, et ssqualitatis, et millenarii (seucubi a denario)con-
sidero, sed vocabulis istis (quorum sensus obscure saltern, atque imperfecte menti obversatur) in anirao
utor loco idearum, quas de iis habeo, quoniam memini me 6ignificationem istorum vocabulorum babere,
explicationem autem nunc judico necessariam non esse; qualem cogitationem csecam, vel etiam symboli-
cam appellare soleo, qua et in Algebra et in Arithmetica utimur, imo fere ubique. Et certe cum notio
valde composita est, non possumus omnes ingredientes earn notiones simul cogitari : ubi tamen hoc licet,
vel saltern in quantum licet, cognitionem voco iniuitivam. Notionis distinctse primitives non alia datur
cognitio, quam intuitiva, ut compositarum plerumque cogitatio non nisi symbolica est. — Med. de cog. ver. ei
ideis.
The ground for this distinction has been furnished already
its ground ai- {u ^he position, that every concept supposes an individual
ready explained. . . . ...
concrete, either real or imaginary, in which it is exemplified.
No person can receive the import of the concept except as he resorts to this concrete foi
interpretation and explanation. When I pronounce such words as white, red, sweet, sour, etc.
I presuppose that the person to whom I address them has known by experience, *. e., b;>
intuition, what they signify; that he has either seen these colors and tasted these tastes, c
those which are sufficiently like them. If he has had no intuitive or analogous experience o.<?
them, my words convey to him no meaning. The same is true of all the so-called simple idean
of Locke, which are the constituent elements of all those which are complex.
When, again, I use the words man, legislation, and civilization, I suppose that the person
whom I address has had at least some experience of the elementary conceptions which entet
into these compounds, and in all probability has had intuition of some concrete example of thii
compound itself. By whatever beings or events within his experience he may interpret or
image them to himself, the fact is unquestioned that he must refer to his own experience, to
understand the import either of the elements or of the compounds, or of both. The same is true
of the more recondite properties and relations — those beliefs and principles which are the
subjects of metaphysical controversy and speculation. Neither word nor concept can convey any
meaning to the man that does not find within his own experience a voucher for its validity and
import.
The chief obiects fcr which words and concepts are used
Words valuable . " . .. A _ . _
f or definition are denned and exact thought on the one hand, and miorma-
and impression. . . ,.,.
tion and impression on the other. In the one case, the mind is
occupied with the more abstract and general relations of objects. In the
other, those which are broader and more obvious are employed, often solely
for the excitement and gratification of the emotions. In both cases, use
must be made of the objects and images of individual experience. But in
the first, the relations concerned are less dependent upon the individual
images which happen to be suggested, because to convey or awaken gen-
eral relations is the chief end. What are the individual examples by which
each individual hearer or reader verifies or illustrates them, v\ cf Ie?s im
portance, provided he understands what is said.
428 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §427.
But even here intuition is far better than symbolic knowledge; rather should
Advantage ^ of it be said, intuition with thought is far better than symbolic knowledge with-
description. out intuition. The most careful definition of a mountain, the ocean-surf, a
cataract, a giraffe, a palm-tree, may convey far less satisfactory and far less
accurate impressions than the inspection of a moment might furnish, provided the inspection
leads to thought — i. e., to the formation or verification of concepts. With the concrete before
us, our concepts are more exact, because we see for ourselves. The concrete also furnishes
the material for any new concepts which we ourselves may form directly from their objects.
Merely logical inferences from thought-premises and definitions, cannot be trusted so confi-
dently as when the fuller material of intuition and experience is before the mind. But what
is more important than all, is the circumstance, that, when the knowledge is logical only, the
concrete images and illustration that are suggested may mislead to important error, or even
defeat the very impression which the words and reasonings are fitted to convey. While the
teacher employs concepts and arguments which the original concrete fully authorize and
enforce to his own mind, the hearer may interpret or verify them by others which are not
exactly similar or pertinent, and which not only fail to illustrate and confirm what is asserted,
but seem to contradict and overthrow it.
words more in- ^he defects of mere words and the images which they awaken
mer^de scrips m comparison with actual intuition are still more striking
tion- when the objects are described rather than denned, and for
the purposes of vivid impression and excited feeling. One is forcibly im-
pressed with these defects, when he reads a description of a scene in na-
ture with which he is personally familiar ; especially if he reads it with
the scene actually before him. However graphic or complete the descrip-
tion may be, it is but a lifeless outline when compared with the fulness
and vividness of the reality, or with the throng of images which are
awakened in the memory.
The impressions received from words by one who has never witnessed the reality, are but
as thin and pallid shadows, when contrasted with full and glowing intuitions. The most exact
fend affluent description of Niagara is a very different thing to one who has recently seen the
cataract, or who reads with his eye open upon the scene, from what it can be, to one who has
cever seen its wonders. If a person has never seen any waterfall, it is still more impotent to
Instruct the mind.
These facts bring to light very distinctly the truth that lan-
atSg?a?geeiyPDy guage operates to a very great extent by suggesting the
images and remembrances which have been gained by the
experience and observation of each individual person. Besides the direct
office of instructing the mind, it serves to awaken a multitude of kindred
images and facts which are suggested to them.
All that we have seen, or heard, or experienced, may be recalled by the words of another,
who is entirely unconscious of the power which he wields, and the xrork which he is perform-
ing. Words which to one are dead and meaningless are to another full of life and import.
Words meant only in kindness may awaken images of sorrow and pain. The reader of poetry
must have somewhat of a poet's power to receive and recreate. The student of philosophy must
nave something of a philosopher's reach and insight, to understand and judge what he reads.
§ 427. NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS FEOM THEORIES. 429
There is a large class of facts and truths, as well of scenes and events, to
Language often which language can do but scant justice. These are those to which the facts
very inadequate. an(j ev.ents which we know and have experienced are only remotely analogous.
Language is feeble to convey to the inhabitant of a plain or prairie, the im-
pressions of mountain scenery ; to the stranger to woods, the grandeur of an aboriginal forest ;
to one who has always lived inland, the glory and the beauty of the ocean. A savage cannot
appreciate, by description, the attractions of civilization. The person who has not entered a
cathedral, or seen some of the great works of art in painting and sculpture, can never by de-
scription, be made to appreciate these objects.
Th boiiem When the means of finding analogies are still more scanty,
of the invisible ^he communication by language is still less successful. How
and the spiritual J ° °
world. anxiously do we endeavor to anticipate what may be the
scenes and objects to which another life may introduce us ! But how feeble
is our power to imagine them, because our stock of analoga is so
scanty ! We desire most earnestly that descriptions in language may con-
vey to us the desired information. But language may be in itself to {
large extent impossible, because the only images which language can sug
gest must of necessity be taken from the scenes of the present state oi
being.
But while the images taken from these sources may as images be wholly inadequate ; tfoi
thought-relations which they convey may be entirely trustworthy. The most important of
these are taken from spiritual being, and pertain to the thoughts and feelings in which spirits
may be essentially alike, however widely removed may be the objects with which they arc
conversant, or the media through which they communicate with them. It is impossible for us
to have images of a state of being in which the spirit may have investments and confront
objects that are unlike those to which we are accustomed in our present condition. But if we
believe it possible that the spirit shall retain its identity and its most important spiritual states
and acts, then it is easy to see how in connection with and through images borrowed from
the things and events of the present, unchanging thought-relations may be conceived and taught.
It is sometimes asserted that the Infinite Spirit can have no
Can the infinite _ . , ., n . i «
be described by common relations with the finite, so that all our conceptions
of the infinite must be finite and therefore inadequate and
unworthy ; and that, consequently, all attempts of language to convey
knowledge from the higher to the lower must be forever impossible, be-
cause the media — i e., the images and concepts — must both be finite. This
is urged against the possibility of any communication from God through
the forms of finite nature, or by the media of human speech. It may be
granted that to the mind, in its studies of nature, the images suggested or
excited in the mind and the language founded on such images are
wholly inadequate to express the divine, because both are finite ; it may
be granted even that the concepts of spiritual relations must necessarily be
interpreted and illustrated by images taken from finite objects, and so far
there are essential defects in our imaginations concerning God : yet it may
remain true that there are relations of similarity and analogy between the
finite and the infinite spirit, which render it possible that the one should
430 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §428.
be understood by the other, and that the language which describes the
one to the other should convey actual truth.
The infinitude of God may not exclude personality, which itself establishes a
Man may "be in nkeness between man and God. Personality may involve similarity of knowl-
the image of edge in its higher and permanent relations. A common sympathy may arise
from a similarity of emotional capacities, while similarity in the common
capacity of a personal will may render possible a similar moral Goodness. These likenesses or
analogies, may coexist with the greatest disparities in every other respect. The one being may
be infinite and the Creator ; the other may be finite and the created ; and. yet the one, by
indications through his works and communications by his word, may make himself truly, if not
perfectly known. The imagination of the finite may be inadequate to picture the infinite, while
the thinking of the finite may apprehend the relations by which the infinite thinks, and there-
CHAPTER V.
JUDGMENT, AND THE PROPOSITION.
From the consideration of the formation and the nature of the concept, i. e., of the process and
the product, we proceed to its evolution and expansion ; to judgment considered likewise as
a process and a product. The two are often known by the same appellation, viz.:
judgment. More frequently, however, the product is known by the expression of the
same in language, i. e., as a proposition. This term again is usually restricted to a logical
proposition, or a proposition as composed of two concepts, i. e., a logical subject and predi-
cate. It will be found, however, that both judgment and the proposition are more
extensively applied ; that the psychological is the condition of the logical judgment ; that
judgment enters into all the processes of thought, and therefore deserves the most care-
ful consideration.
The con ce t §428. The processes already considered, and which are
formed by an act involved in forming and applying notions, are alike in this;
ot judgment. & ix^o ^ • ■»
they are all acts of judgment. The mind cannot think
without judging. To think, is to judge. Even in forming or evolving
its notions — that is, in providing itself with the materials for what are
usually called acts of judgment — the mind must judge.
This assertion runs counter to the statements which we find in many books of
How represent- logic, which teach that the mind first furnishes itself with notions or general
TcaUreTds'es.0^ terms by means of simple apprehension, and then proceeds to compare and
discern whether they agree or disagree : This last act only is called an act of
judgment, and this is expressed in language by the proposition.
This doctrine is true only of the logical judgment — that is, the judgment which supposes
the mind to be in possession of notions already formed, the relations of which it discerns and
expresses in language. It entirely overlooks and leaves out of view those judgments which
are psychological, i. e., those acts by which we acquire the notions which we afterwards use.
It is with these judgments that we have to do ; it is of this class of acts, that we assert
that they must be exercised even in forming our concepts. Cf. Reid, Inq., c. ii. § 4 ; Ess. iv. c. 8.
The truth of this assertion is evident from many considerations.
§ 428. JUDGMENT AND THE PROPOSITION. 431
„ nt, ^ *v (1.) It is evident from an analysis of the act itself. If we
(1.) Proved by the V / ^
analysis of the retrace the steps which we have taken in forming concepts,
we find that we cannot know attributes, except as we affirm
them of individual beings. An attribute without a being is inconceiva-
ble in thought and impossible in fact. We can neither think nor believe
it to be, without a something to which it belongs. In the very act of
analysis, by which we separate an element in order to compare it with
others like itself, we must restore it to that from which it was abstracted.
The instant we exalt these similars into a same which is common to every
being, we judge this same to be true of them. all.
Suppose we meet with a series of unknown and unnamed objects, each of which has some
attribute or property, or attribute that is new and without a name : or suppose the attribute to
be familiar and nameable, while the objects are unnamed. We think and say of each of these
objects, it is yellow, red, or green ; or, it is this and that. "We in fact perform a process
which can only be represented by some proposition, one element of which is affirmed of
another : e. g., z is yellow, red, or green ; or if each is without a name, x [individual] is y
[common]. The nearest and best expression of this act which we find in any form of language
is the impersonal verb, as, it shines, it lightens, it rains, in the use of which the unnamed
being is present to the senses, and the attribute is mentally judged or affirmed of it.
. Ira lied ^ (2.) It is still further implied in the truth already developed,
the nature of that every notion is by its very nature and essence relative.
the concept as .... . .
relative. j# e.? related to individual objects or actually existing things.
As a predicable, it is affirmable of individuals ; as a universal, it is com-
mon,— i. e., it belongs equally to single objects. In other words, the
notion is founded, as was shown, upon attributes, and attributes are in
their very essence actually taken from, and capable of being restored to,
the things to which they pertain.
(3.) The same fact is evident from the consideration of the
ture of names*" meaning of names, and of what is implied in the expression of
notions in language. A name is the the verbal symbol of a
concept or notion. But to be a name, it must be a name of some object
or objects ; some object must be called by it ; it must be applied to some
thing or being. But all these acts imply judgment.
. In the na (4.) It is implied by the very definition of knowledge. In
ld™ °f know1' discussing the act of knowledge, we have already found
that it implies judgment, whether the knowledge takes the
form of presentation, representation, or thought. We have sought to
prove that all knowledge implies more than the apprehension of an object
as existing ; viz., its existence in some relation. If it is true that knowl-
edge by perception and memory implies judgment, much more does
knowledge by thought, forasmuch as we have seen that the general with
which thought has to do, is, by its very essence and nature, only a relative
and affirmable entity.
432 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 429.
"We conclude from these data, that
Mutual relations Wherever there is a notion, there is an implied act of judg-
andthteheC01?uaP- ment- Every such notion has been formed by judgment,
ment- and is capable of being expanded into a judgment. It is an
organic thing, representing in its very essence the act which gave it being,
and capable of being developed into similar though more complex prod-
ucts. It is like a seed, which is a miniature plant, having come from a
plant and being ready to spring into a plant ; or it is like the cell which
is the ultimate element of growth and development in vegetable or
animal life. "We do not judge by a mechanical and superinduced act of
the intellect, which, finding two names or notions, proceeds to fasten
them together ; but it is of the very nature of the notion, that it can be
applied or united to some object. This natural and necessary act of
union or synthesis is an act of judgment. The true doctrine may be stated
thus : every concept is a contracted judgment ; every judgment is an
expanded concept.
jud ments are § 429, ^e judgments by which concepts are formed, are
psychological properly called primary, natural, and psychological judg-
ments. They are distinguished by the circumstance that
their subject is an existing and individual thing. Judgments of the other
class are secondary, artificial and logical In these, concepts, not things,
are apparently compared with one another, so that concepts seem to be
the only objects-matter.
ments of J^J1(^ ye*> *n *nese judgments it is true, that the reason why
mental entities, concepts are affirmed of concepts is, that concepts are, in
their very nature, affirmed and affirmable of things. The
bond which unites one concept with another in judgments that are
purely logical and general is in the last analysis the same bond by which
concepts are connected with things. The secondary, comparative, and
logical judgments are all founded on those which are primary, natural,
and psychological. To be convinced of this truth, we need only to con-
sider the expression of judgments in language, and to trace the order of
progress by which logical judgments or judgments consisting of concepts
come to be reached and understood.
When purely mental entities are treated of, whether fictions of imagi-
nation, as the centaur, or mathematical constructions, as the triangle, or
abstracta, as virtue, they are treated as actually existing beings.
The fact has already been established, that the concept, by its very nature,
How the subject , , , , , ■, .
of a judgment is contemplates attributes only ; and that concepts, like man, human, humanity,
!an^ageSed in so far as tne"* constituent attributes are concerned, stand for precisely the
same content of attributes. When they are expressed in language, however,
man and human differ in this, that the one word, man, denotes a being to which these attributes
Delong, and the other, human, denotes the attributes only. By what process the mind comes
to be possessed of these two sorts of words, we need not here iuquire. But when it does
g 431 . JUDGMENT AND THE PKOPOSITION. 433
possess them, it cannot but use them. Instead of thinking or saying, it is green, or, it rains, the
man says, orange is yellow, cloud rains. Soon it learns to say it in three ways ; this orange
is yellow, some oranges are yellow, all oranges are yellow, according as it uses the general
name for one, a part, or all of the beings for which the orange stands. In order to do this, it
applies special terms to denote these three relations, viz., the words the or this, or one, some
[a few or many], and all.
How does the 8 430. The secondary judgment, when its subject is an indi-
logical differ .
from the psy- vidual object, differs from the primary only in this, that the
cholo?ical judg- • j * j x. / I T 4. i *
ment? subject is denoted by means ot a common term. Instead of
saying it, we say this orange. If the subject is a universal, as all oranges,
the mind gives the result of its separate observations, or their equivalent
induction, by using the concept in its largest extent.
The fact that a concept has the two relations of extent and content, fits it to be
Any concept is , , „ .,..,, ,
capable of being used both as the name of one or more individuals, and as an attribute only.
subject or predi- ^ynen a COncept is used to denote beings, it is used in the relation of extent.
When it is used to denote attributes, it is used in the relation of content.
Every notion must have both of these relations, and cannot exist without them. In the natural
judgment by which every concept is formed, one of these relations is expressed by intuition,
and is represented by the subject it ; the other is formed by thought, and becomes the pred-
icate yellow or rains. In the secondary judgment a concept used in its extent only is em-
ployed as the subject and takes the place of the intuition or induction; the notion as content
retains its place as predicate, and the natural judgment by which the notion is formed and in
which only one notion can be used, becomes a secondary judgment in which two notions ap-
pear. These considerations fully establish the position that the two species of judgment are in
their essential nature one and the same, inasmuch as both express what is essentially
involved in the act of thinking, viz. : an act of affirming a concept of an existing being or thing.
§ 431. This relation discerned by this act is expressed in
ofhthcfopSlon language by the copula, whenever the copula appears as a
separate word. The is of the judgment means the relation
affirmed or judged, i. e., known to exist between the being and its attri-
bute. It makes no difference whether it is or is not expressed, it is still
present as an element m every judgment, whether it is. so united with the
predicate as to form with it a single word, or whether it is expressed by
the verb to be. The act of judgment is the same whatever be its verbal
expression, whether subject predicate and copula are condensed in a sin-
gle word, as, pluit — or expanded into two, as, it rains — or into three, as,,
the clouds are raining.
The copula does not require or imply that the being should actually exist in-
The copula does fact, that there should be an actually existing material or spiritual thing or
existence. a agent, of which the attribute is affirmed or thought. The being may be an.
imaginary being, as a centaur, or a mathematical entity, as a triangle, or an
abstractum as whiteness, or virtue, or legislation; and yet one or more attributes maybe
asserted or thought of each. All that the copula properly signifies is, that the concept has
this or that attribute, one or many. Whether the concept is of a real being or of a thought-
being is presumed, or left to be determined by other sources of knowledge. If a centaur is
spoken of, we know it has only imaginary existence ; if a triangle, that it is a mathematics1
28
434 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §432.
conception or construction ; if virtue or legislation, we know we must go back to concreto
beings, to find the reality of which these are abstracts.
§ 432. It has been established that every notion is a contracted
Judgments of . _ . . .._.
content and ex- judgment and every judgment is an expanded notion, and also
that every notion has two relations — the relation of content
and the relation of extent. It follows that notions can be expanded into
two kinds of judgments : judgments of content and judgments of extent.
Both these forms of judgment require special illustration.
We begin with the Judgment of Content.
This is the form taken by all original and natural judgments. It is by
a judgment of content or of a common attribute or relation that every
notion is originally formed. This is also the form in which judgments
most frequently occur in language. Objects are observed and their com-
mon attribute or attributes are thought, i. e., judged of them, and the
thought when expressed in words gives those propositions which abound
in every language. It is only by a reflex act that the mind develons
and employs judgments of extent.
These natural judgments of content, serve the purposes of common life and of
Natural and common intercourse. For the ends and uses of Science we need to go further
scientihc judg- , , .. „,„.. _ ,
ments of content, and to employ propositions of definition. In such propositions we assert not
merely one or more attributes for purposes of information, but we indicate
all the attributes which make up or constitute the whole content. For example, we are required
not only to state some one attribute or relation which is true of man, but all the attributes
which are required to distinguish men from other beings ; in other words to give the defining
attributes or constituents — the definition of the concept. To accomplish this end we must
express what is called the whole content, since if we state only those elements which are com-
mon to this concept and many others, and omit one or more that is peculiar, we do not define
it from the others ; that is, we do not separate either the concept or the objects for which it stands
from all the other concepts and objects. If we define a circle as a curvilinear figure, the circle is
not distinguished from an ellipse. If we define man to be a two-legged and featherless being,
this is true also of a plucked chicken. Hence the rule by which we try and determine a good
definition : The proposition which expresses it must be convertible. We must not only be able
truly to assert { every triangle is a plane three-sided figure,' but ' every plane three-sided figure
i<j a triangle,' not only c every man is a rational animal,' but L every rational animal is a man.'
. The content was called by Aristotle and the Scholastics the
and nominal, essence, i. e., attributes or elements which make the notion to
be what it is as a notion. A distinction has also been made
between the real and nominal essence, and between a real and nominal
definition. The real essence is, properly, its entire content, and a real
definition would be a statement of this in language. The nominal defini-
tion would properly be the definition by an equivalent name or names.
Aristotle himself meant primarily by the essence that which existed permanently and really
in the objects to which the concept belonged rather than the attributes themselves as constitu
ting the concept. He applied essence metaphysically rather than logically, to the objective
33. JUDGMENT AND THE PROPOSITION-. 435
correlate of the concept, rather than to the concept itself as an intellectual or subjective product
Of. § 399. It is easy to see how the term might be employed first as the constitutive nature of
each object or thing conceived, and afterwards be transferred to the species which make up a
genus or into which a genus is divided, and finally be applied to every individual ot
object.
§ 433. What is often intended by this distinction is bettei
truth the copula expressed by the distinction of real essence and thought-
essence, or real and logical truth. This distinction can be
appreciated and understood only as we remember the remark alread)
made, §431, that propositions may concern existing beings or notions
of beings to which there is no corresponding reality. The proposition as
a definition only, expands the content or essence of the concept, without
deciding whether any corresponding reality exists in fact. When for ex-
ample we define the centaur we give the attributes that make up the concep-
tion without asserting or knowing that no such being exists. When we define
a triangle we state the essential constituents of the concept produced by the
constructive imagination, knowing that it has no other existence. When
we define man we define the concept and believe it is realized in fact and
actual being. The definition of centaur implies only thought-essence or
logical truth. The definition of man implies both logical and real truth.
The copula is, in the one case signifies ' is defined as' or * consists of\ in
the other signifies — both ' is defined as » and ' really exists?
In very many cases we readily interpret the meaning of the copula and the
The import of character of the judgment and definition, by our knowledge of the subject-
interpreted. °T matter. In other cases we have no such knowledge as qualifies us to deter-
mine whether the definition is really true, as well as logically consistent.
Suppose any of the following concepts are to be defined : virtue, duty, inalienable right, natu-
ral liberty, tyranny, a sovereign state. It is of essential importance to know whether the
definition concerns only the concept as a mental product, existing in and for the mind only,
or whether there are real relations and activities of the human soul, to which the concept
corresponds. In the first instance we should need to consider only, whether the concept is
correctly defined as it is ordinarily used or as this or that school of philosophers or politi-
cians imagined or conceived it. In the second, we should inquire, whether it answers to a
truth of fact, i. e., whether the concept has a corresponding reality.
In the definitions of science, both these questions should be carefully consid-
lleal and logical ered. The subject-matter is so far removed from common observation, and
confounded.1™ ' the language is necessarily so abstract, especially in those sciences which re-
late to the human soul or any of its products, that it is not always certain, if
the definitions appear to be consistent and complete, that there are answering realities in the
actual universe. Scientific truth implies both logical and real truth. Logical truth is but
another name for logical consistency. A dexterous logician, if suffered to frame his own con-
cepts and construct his own propositions, may easily frame a system which shall have suffi
cient truth to give plausibility to all that is defective by omission, or false by positive error
Every definition should therefore be scrutinized in both these aspects and relations. It should
always be remembered that a proposition may be logically true and yet really false, while
science requires that the definition should not only be logically consistent and logically com-
plete, but also really exhaustive and really true.
436 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §433
We consider next Judgments of Extent.
pro ositioneof ^e ProPos^on °f extent is the natural consequent of the
extent, follow proposition of content. The proposition of content is first
-ent. in time, because the knowledge of the individual goes before
the knowledge of the general, or if the two are distinguished together,
the general is first known as belonging to the individual and affirmable
of it. As soon, however, as a single attribute is affirmed as common to
many individuals, then this common attribute can be conceived as itself
dividing or constituting these individuals into a class by themselves. As
soon as we think, This house is white, it is possible for us to refer the
house to the class of white objects. But because every generalized
attribute may classify the objects to which it belongs, it does not follow
that the mind recognizes it in this relation, or expresses the relation in
language. It is not till the adjective, white, becomes a noun, that we
use it as a classifier, and think or say, whites, i. e., white men, are English,
French, etc., etc., or white things are so and so. It is not till we turn
back upon our thinking, and recognize the fact that these attributes
divide the beings to which they belong into classes, and go further and
notice that some of the classes of objects are wider and some narrower
than others, that we have occasion to think of these notions in their
extent, or to expand them into propositions of extent.
Indeed it is not till the formal classifications of science begin to be formed
Of especial im- and fixed, that such propositions make much figure in language, or that they
science, are sharply distinguished from propositions of content. It occasionally
happens in common life that we find such assertions as the following or their
equivalents : Of trees there are oak, maple, pine, etc. Of oaks there are white oak, black oak,
rock oak, etc., etc. The inhabitants of Great Britain are English, Scotch, Irish and Welsh.
But when our classes are perfected by scientific research, then we find such propositions as
the following: The human race is made up of Jive varieties according to Blumenbach, viz.,
the Caucasian, the Mongolian, the Ethiopian, the American and the Malayan, or into three
according to Cuvier ; or into seven according to Prichard; or into eight according to Agassiz;
or into eleven according to Pickering. Or the Mammalia are divided into Archonts, Megas-
ihenes, Microsthenes and Ooticoids, each of which divisions except the first are numerously
subdivided. So we say the powers of the soul are intellect, sensibility and will. The faculties
of the intellect are three : presentation, representation and thought. Our duties are three-
fold : to God, our fellow-men, and ourselves. Every such proposition expresses the single
relation of extent. The concept is expanded by a distinct and complete enumeration of the
narrower concepts by which the individuals which make up its extent are divided. In such
propositions, the larger or wider concept is naturally the subject, though it makes little differ-
ence which is placed first in the order of writing or utterance: the import is the same
whether we say, the inhabitants of Great Britain are"English, Scotch, Irish and Welsh ; or the
English, Scotch, Irish and Welsh constitute or make up the inhabitants of Great Britain.
Propositions founded upon the relation of extent appear in logic, as conjunc-
Kton8Cof proposi- tive, disjunctive and partitive, according to the several uses to which the
tions of extent. prOp0Siti0n, or the argument founded upon it, is designed to be applied. We
may say A=«, b and c ; or every A is either a, b or c, or every a is A, i. e. is a part of A.
§ 435. JUDGMENT AND THE PROPOSITION. 437
propositions of § 434. Propositions of extent, whether used in common life
content and ex- r> ,i /?• -i-it.* • i. i i r>
ten^ imply one or for the purposes of science, are clearly distinguishable from
propositions of content. It is, however, easy to confound the
one with the other ; and easy to interchange the one with the other. The
one relation is so intimately connected with the other, that we are often
tempted to translate the propositions which express the one into those
which express the other. We cannot say that man is an animal without
implying that he possesses those attributes which are involved in the con-
cept and term animal. Whenever we assert that man is a species of which
animal is a genus, we must ascribe to man certain attributes. Conversely
we cannot assert certain attributes of man without placing him in a certain
class. As soon as we add other attributes to those which are essential to the
genus, we must in fact divide this genus into species of narrower extent.
These facts are not at all inconsistent with the truth that we at some times use proposi-
tions with sole reference to their content, and at other times with exclusive respect to their
extent. Indeed, the use of propositions of extent is a necessary condition and consequence of
logical division. If division is distinguishable from definition, then are propositions of extent
clearly distinguishable from propositions of content.
Sir William Hamilton, in order at once to reach the highest generalization conceivable, and to provide
for his peculiar theory of the syllogism, treats the relations of both extent and content under the terms and
relations of quantity, i. e., of extent only. For example : in the proposition, Milk is white, we may con-
ceive the substance milk as contained in the class of white things — or the concept milk as containimg
white in its logical essence. In both cases we have the relation of a whole to its parts, the difference being,
that in the one case a genus contains its species or sorts, and in the other the concept contains its elements.
This view is purely logical, being taken and applied merely for purposes of logical convenience. The value
of this view for logical purposes i* open to discussion. Even if it should be conceded to be very great, it
does not follow as a consequence, that the distinction between propositions of content and extent does not
represent two original relations, both of which are involved in the existence of every concept, and the recog-
nition of both of which is implied in every act of thought.
§ 435. Moreover, as the process of definition conducts to a
division perfect- completed proposition of content, so does division culminate
in an exact and complete proposition of extent. Both of
these processes are involved in the beginnings of thinking. They are only
carried forward to their normal perfection when we reach the precise and
comprehensive knowledge which science attains. Both are the necessary
condition of the formation and use of general terms, and are the constant
accompaniments of language. Both are perfected in their ideal aims
whenever the definitions in any branch of knowledge become precise and
true, and the divisions become orderly and exhaustive.
It is a superficial error but not the less serious, to suppose that scientific
sV^e n tt f i°c knowledge differs in kind from common knowledge ; to imagine or reason as
to common though the man of scientific thinking has developed or exercised intellectual
powers which are used by himself alone, or has discovered special processes or
devised special rules which have no relation to the processes and methods which are
natural to the thinking powers. The powers employed by the true philosopher and
the uncultured are the same. The common man thinks as really, and in his way he thinks
as effectively and as sagaciously, as does the philosopher. He fails in this only, that he
438 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §435.
does not judge so carefully, because he does not judge under the pressure and guidance
of so definite and earnest intellectual aims. Both define and divide, and in one sense
do little else. They are continually pronouncing judgments of extent and content. The one
defines with greater exactness and divides with greater care than the other, because he has a
constant regard to the consistency of every concept and proposition with every other, and to
the coherence of all together in the subordinations of a completed system. Both employ lan-
guage in the service of their common purpose. The one uses terms with a more fixed and
definite meaning and applies them to existing objects with a nicer and more comprehensive obser-
vation and induction.
Not easy to di- ^ f°H°ws that we can nowhere find the dividing line
anedCOSentiao wn^cn separates common from scientific knowledge. We
knowledge. cannot say, in the history of any branch of knowledge, Here
common knowledge ceases, and science begins. At this point he who
knows as a man, begins to know as a philosopher.
Of some sciences it is true, that at a certain period of their development, common terms are
exchanged for those which are technical, and a scholastic, sometimes a repulsive nomencla-
ture takes the place of words which are familiar from use and warm with grateful associa-
tions. Even objects that in the earliest classifications have been grouped together by affinities
so close that they seem to have a necessary and unbroken relationship, are strangely separated ;
finding themselves suddenly in new and unpleasant society. Plants and trees apparently the
most alike are thrown into the most distant groups, and those which are apparently the most
diverse and dissimilar are inexplicably brought together. But if we analyze the processes and
examine their reasons, we shall find that these changes are owing to no sudden leap over a mys-
terious dividing chasm, but have been effected by natural progress and easy transitions ; that these
bristling terms of art are easily translated into their equivalent common words, while the
scientific divisions are founded on likenesses and differences that are simply less obvious, but
when noticed are fully accepted by the judgment of all men.
In those sciences which are less technical in their definitions and classifications, the points
of transition and division are not even suspected. We cannot find the place where science in its
technical form begins ; and formally takes its leave of common knowledge. In Psychology,
Ethics, Politics, Law and Theology, common terms are in a great measure still retained ; only
(hey are employed with a more careful definition and a more exact application.
It does not follow, because common and scientific knowledge differ only
in the degree of perfection with which thought is conducted, that
the dignity or importance of science is thereby in the least diminished.
Science when viewed in the light of our analysis is simply
Science rightly T , , , . 7, 7 „ 7 . -, T
conceived and knowledge by concepts carefully defined in order to a complete
division and methodized arrangement of the things or objects
to which these concepts are applicable.
In forming scientific notions, the mind discovers relations and attributes which it ha*
never observed before. In looking more patiently, it observes more closely. As it proceeds
to use and apply the notions already attained in the processes of deduction and induction
which are yet to be explained, it discerns still other relations of likeness and unlikeness.
Every new conclusion and generalization prepares the way for new notions which involve new
propositions of content and extent. As it proceeds in its triumphant course it still continues
to define and divide. It began when it formed its first proposition of content. This involved
i proposition of extent.
§437. REASONING. DEDUCTION OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 439
It will have finished its course and completed the circle of its possible
triumphs, when it shall have exhausted all that is knowable by these
two processes, each involving the other — when it shall have arranged all
its knowledge in systematic order, by a per feet and subordinated division
as the result of true and exhaustive definitions.
CHAPTER VI.
REASONING. DEDUCTION OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT.
From Judgment we proceed to Reasoning by a natural and almost necessary transition ; the
one being but a special application of the other. Indeed Reasoning is properly defined
as Mediate or Indirect Judgment. Of Reasoning there are the two universally recognized
forms ; Deduction and Induction. Of these, Deduction as the Process and the Syllogism as
the Product claim our first attention ; with both we are made familiar in books of Logic.
With the logical consideration of the two, however, we need concern ourselves no further
than this may aid us to understand the Psychological relations of both Process and Prod-
uct as a method and object of knowledge.
Thus considered, Deductive Reasoning, as a psychological process, is an important
topic in the study of the Human Intellect.
§ 436. The process of thought or mode of thinking which
importance of we are naturally led to consider next in order is reasoning.
reasoning. . m "
That to reason is a function of the thinking power as defined,
will be questioned by none. By many it is esteemed the special function
of thought. By some it is conceived to be its sole and single function,
absorbing all the rest into itself. There have been those who make the
capacity to reason, to be the exclusive and distinctive endowment of
man. Such have striven to account for all the other thought-processes
by resolving them into this.
•
That Reasoning is a form or mode of thinking is evident from the fact that
Reasoning is a man reasons by the aid of notions, and without concepts cannot reason at
™g, ' all. The conclusions which he reaches as the result of reasoning, alwaya
embrace at least one such notion ; more usually they include two. The
predicate of every demonstrated Proposition must always be a generalized notion. The subject
is very often such a notion also.
8 437. Reasoning, also, like every other act or mode of
Reasoning m- » ■ m »> ' ...
voives judg- knowing, involves judgment. Its conclusion is expressed is
a proposition or judgment. The material from which this
conclusion is derived, and upon which it depends, is judgments. When
we reason, * this man is a murderer, and therefore is not fit to live ' : or, 'this
man is not fit to live, because he is a murderer ' : or when we expand the
440 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 437
same argument into the form, e no murderer is fit to live, this man is a mur
derer, therefore this man is not fit to live ' : we express the result of the
process in a judgment, and we use one or more judgments in reaching it.
Not only does reasoning imply or involve judgment, but it-
is itself an act is itself an act of iudsrment. It is distinguished from iudo*-
of judgment. v o o j &
ment proper by being mediate and indirect ; whereas judg-
ments proper are immediate and direct.
immediate or ^ne acts °^ judgment proper have already been explained
mints0 * ^udg" as acts in which a general notion is thought or affirmed of
an individual being, by, so to speak, direct inspection
and comparison. The materials are the beings or objects themselves.
These are compared and analyzed in the manner described. The attribute,
property or relation is generalized directly from the objects to which it
belongs, and is therefore applied to or judged of them. When, for ex-
ample, we judge of ten apples, that they are red, or oval, or round, or
of equal or unequal weight, or of similar taste or odor, we perform acts
of direct or immediate judgment.
,r ... . . But when we reason concerning them, that because they are
Mediate or in- & -> j
direct judg- red, or similar in odor, therefore they taste alike, we judge
ments. m \ 7 m. * 7 J &
indirectly or mediately ; we consider, not only the apples
themselves, but the relation of one of their properties to another. This
truth is implied though not fully expressed in the remark that in judg-
ment we compare two notions, and discern or pronounce that the notions
agree or disagree ; whereas in reasoning we compare two judgments, and
declare or discern that the judgments agree or disagree. This statement,
while it docs not fully explain the nature of either judgment or reasoning,
asserts truly that the two processes are alike in an important feature.
The same truth is expressed in the assertion that in judgment we discern a single relation
by comparison of similar qualities or attributes, whereas in reasoning we discern a similarity
of relations and by this similarity connect two notions in a single judgment. As every notion
is a contracted judgment and every judgment is an expanded notion; so every judgment is a
contracted argument, and every argument is an expanded judgment. Judgment and reasoning
do not differ so much as processes, as in the materials or conditions with or on which the pro-
cesses are performed. It is a very superficial view of reasoning, involving not only defects but
serious errors, to overlook the relations by which it stands connected with, and as it were
grows out of, judgment. To hold that to reason is one mode of knowing and to judge is
another, and that the one goes before, and the other follows after by a necessity or dependence
which we cannot explain, fails altogether to satisfy the mind. All who reflect enough to ask
the question believe that the relation between the two is more vital and intimate. Cf. Whe-
well. Phil of the Inductive Sciences. B. II. c. xi. § 1, also Locke, Essay, B. IV. c. ii. §§ 1,
2 ; also Milton, Par. Lost, B. V. 486-90.
If we distinguish the process of reasoning from the product or result — as in the other
acts of the intellect — we should call the first reasoning and the second an argument. These
two terms are often interchanged for one another, as in other similar cases ; and the proper
meaning of each is not strictly adhered to in common nor even in philosophical usage. These
terms are also usually and almost exclusively limited to deduction.
§438. REASONING. DEDUCTION OE MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 44.3
The process called reasoning is twofold, inductive and de
Reasoning, J- . . v .,.
;,nduetive and ductive. It is known by the two names, induction and
deductive. ^ . ,.... . , , , ,
deduction. These two are sufficiently distinguished by the
following definitions. In deduction the mind begins with general prop-
ositions and reasons to those which are particular or individual. In
induction, it reasons from individual or particular to general judgments.
In deduction we assume or imply that the mind is already
The two dis- furnished with judgments or beliefs that are more or less
general, and proceed to found upon them or derive from
them, those which are particular or singular. In other words wTe apply
the predicate of these general propositions to a particular or individual,
which we had not thought of or known before. For example : ' every
act of filial duty ought to be performed ; therefore, in choosing our busi-
ness in life, we ought to consult the wishes of our parents.' In induc-
tion, on the contrary, we proceed from the singular or particular to
general propositions or truths. We possess only individual facts, or less
general truths, and by means of these we know7 more general truths,
* principles or laws. We observe that one or several pieces of iron-ore,
with certain characteristics, are magnetic. We infer that every similar
v piece of iron-ore is magnetic. From the individual and the particular
we derive the general.
In deduction we begin with the content, and we consider the extent of the notion, bringing
under the latter particular or individual matter that we had not known before to stand under
this relation, and we end with uniting this content with a new or more limited notion of extent.
In induction we begin with the extent of a notion, as this or that particular fact or truth, and
we connect it for the first time with a content never affirmed of it before. Sometimes, by thi?
means or in this connection we discover a content never previously known or affirmed, of any
extent. As for example, in the contraction of the leg of a frog was discovered the galvanic
power with its laws.
Both these processes are called processes of reasoning. The means employed, i. e., the
grounds or foundations of each, whether they are general or particular propositions or
individual facts, are called reasons, sometimes data. But to reason, par eminence, is to per-
form the process of deduction; and reasons or grounds of belief are preeminently those
general principles or truths from which we derive or deduce particular conclusions. Hence,
when we use the words to reason and a reason, we are usually understood to have in mind
the deductive process. On the other hand, we say freely that we reason by induction or
inductively; and no phrases are more common than inductive reasoning and reasoning by
induction.
The two o- P38- These two processes are usually combined together in
cesses often con- every case in which our knowledge is enlarged by what we
call reasoning. WTien we use examples of reasoning for the
purpose of illustrating the nature of the process, we seem to be able to sep-
arate deduction from induction, and to employ each process separately.
But whenever we reason with the express design of enlarging our knowl-
edge by some addition, or of increasing our confidence in that wrhich we
442 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §439
already have gained — we find that both processes are called into requisi-
tion. If, for example, we should reason deductively, to prove to a person
who did not already believe it, that a particular act, as to obey or perhaps
to resist the government, was obligatory ; we should probably be obliged to
use the process of induction to prove that such an act was distinguished by
the characteristics or criteria which showed it to come under the duties of
a loyal citizen. To establish this satisfactorily, might require another and
perhaps more than a single process of deduction, but inductive processes
would also be required.
In all cases of induction, also, when the mind is first actually in doubt
and afterwards attains to satisfaction and discovery, the process of deduc-
tion is brought into requisition. We can scarcely suppose that Franklin
established the identity of lightning with machine electricity, or Newton
reached the law and the fact of universal gravitation, without asking
themselves many times over what would be the consequents in fact, if
either of these -were truths ; that they might be able to decide by the
verification of experiment, whether these deduced consequents were
true. We know that Sir Isaac Newton drew certain inferences from the
supposition that the law of gravitation was true, when combined with a
false datum in respect to the earth's diameter ; and because observed facts
did not coincide with the theory, he rejected or held in suspense the theory
which his so-called induction had already reached.
Induction, and Deduction like the Analysis and Synthesis of which they are
Often verv inti- special forms, accompany each other in all the higher processes of thought.
mately blended. ij]ie ^w0 blend together so intimately that it is often difficult to sever them, or to
find or trace the line where the one begins and the other terminates. They
run together so readily and are so intimately united, that it is often hard to decide whether the
process is inductive or deductive, because it is difficult to decide with which the mind begins —
the particular or the general, or whether both these relations are not considered together.
8 439. Reasoning, in both these forms, is an act or mode of
Reasoning, an « »' 7
act of knowledge knowledge. . It is also more specially defined as an act or
and of thought. ^ . .
mode of thinking. As an act of thought it is required that
its object-matter or material should be notions or concepts. But an act
of knowledge has been defined as involving, not only the apprehension
that special objects are or exist, but that they exist in certain relations.
The object-matter of reasoning being concepts or objects as notionized,
it remains to consider what are the relations under which these are
known in reasoning. This inquiry has in part been answered. To reason,
is to know objects by means of or in relation to their reasons or grounds.
In other words, to reason is to discover or apply reasons for what we
discover or already believe to be true. These definitions and explanations
must suffice concerning reasoning in general ; they serve to prepare for and
introduce the particular consideration of each of its forms. We begin
with —
I
§441. SEASONING. DEDUCTION OK MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 443
Deduction and the Syllogism.
§ 440. There is a general agreement of opinion in respect to the views which
Agreement and have thus far been expressed. The propositions which we have laid down
opinion. would be generally assented to. It is true, they would be somewhat variously
interpreted and explained according to the special system or school of opinion
in metaphysics and psychology to which the interpreter belonged, but the propositions them-
selves would command almost universal assent. But when we come to a more precise and
accurate theory of Deduction and Induction, we find great vagueness as well as great diversity
of opinion. We cannot excuse ourselves for this reason from the attempt to ascertain and vindi-
cate the true theory of each. We are compelled to make a critical and separate consideration
of these two processes, and of the forms of language in which they are recorded and expressed.
It should here be premised that our point of view is primarily psychological
^cholo^al'011 anc* BOt l°gical or metaphysical. We are directly concerned with the inquiry
not logical or ' What are the intellectual processes which we actually perform when we
reason ? ' The answer to this question does indeed involve the development
and determination of the objects with which the process is concerned and the relations which
it pre-supposes; and, in so far, it implies logical and speculative discussions. But logic dis-
cusses reasoning, and especially deduction and the syllogism, for other ends than to ascertain
the psychology of the process and the consequent nature of the product which it educes or
creates. It considers them chiefly for the purpose of establishing the rules and criteria which
guide to correct, and secure against false reasoning. It analyzes and studies the various forms
of language in which valid and invalid syllogisms can possibly be phrased or expressed, for the
purpose of showing the relation of the one to the other so as to aid the reasoner in securinp;
himself and in guarding others against fallacious and sophistical arguments. The metaphysical
consideration of reasoning goes still farther. It analyzes and evolves the original conceptions
and primary truths which reasoning pre-supposes, and on which its authority rests. Psychol-
ogy does both of these indirectly but does neither primarily and confessedly. It is chiefly
concerned with what the intellect consciously performs and produces, and the treatment of the
conditions and objects which our subjective processes presuppose and evolve.
§ 441. Our chief inquiry is, what is the proper conception of
Seeproduct? and the deductive as an intellectual process; and incidental to
this, what is the nature and what the results of the product
which it evolves. Perhaps we can answer this question most satisfactorily
if we consider first of all, the forms of language in which the process is
expressed and its results are preserved.
These forms are two, the JEnthymeme and the Syllogism, or the
and the syiio- abbreviated and the expanded syllogism. The enthymeme con-
sists of two expressed propositions, which are connected by he-
cause or therefore. The syllogism consists of 'three, of which the first two are
simple assertions, and the third is introduced by therefore. For example, 31
A0n ( vsvrper ) fherpfnrp he S cannot exact obedience ? nr 71,/" j cannot exact allegiance \
tSa [lawful rider \ merV0r(i /ie I ought to be obeyed \ or ±}± \ ought to be obeyed \
because he is j a lawfufrZer \ are examples of the two forms of the enthy-
mprriP J No usurper can require allegiance I M is j a usurper ) th erpftvrp IV 1
meme. "j Every lawful ruler ought to be obeyed f xU lb 1 a lawful ruler f meinore JH
\ canouhttfit ob?ednce } are examples of tne expanded syllogism.
In the enthymeme, the first proposition may be either the conclusion,
or it may be the reason. In the syllogism, the first proposition is called
444 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §442.
the major premise; the second, the minor premise; and the third, the con
elusion.
The two premises of every syllogism mnst have one term
The middle , t i-, js'i-'. • -ii -i .i •-*-« t
term, its signi- common to both, which is called the middle term. In the ex-
amples given — lawful ruler and usurper are the middle terms
respectively of the two syllogisms. Unless there is this middle term, there
is no force or convincing power in the argument. It is obvious that if
we substitute any other term in either premise so as to introduce two
middle terms, there is nothing to lead to a conclusion. If we substitute
a worthy or unworthy person for lawful ruler or usurper, no conclusion
will follow.
Every enthymeme can be expanded into a syllogism. The syllogism when expanded
expresses in separate propositions the truths which the enthymeme implies. There is in
every enthymeme the suppressed premise of a syllogism. When we reason in the examples
given, M is a lawful ruler, therefore he ought to be obeyed, or M ought to be obeyed because
he is the lawful ruler, we believe and imply in the argument — though we do not assert — that
every lawful ruler ought to be obeyed. This is the major Premise of the syllogism into which
the enthymeme is by this addition naturally expanded. The difference between the enthymeme
and the syllogism is only a difference between a contracted and an expanded form of expres-
sion ; or between an elliptical and a fully explicated sentence. It is a difference of language
only, and not in the least a difference of thought or of the relations of thought or knowl-
edge ; what is expressed in one being implied in the other.
8 442. It has been earnestly disputed whether the syllogism is
Is the syllogism °_ - „ ,. .. \. . . , • -
a or the form of the lorm proper to all deductive reasoning or only a form
after which all such reasoning may be conducted and in which
it may be expressed. Thus, Principal Campbell in his Philosophy of Rhetoric
contends that the syllogistic is only one of the possible methods of reason-
ing, while there are others which are in many cases greatly to be preferred
to this; and J. S. Mill, in his Logic, urges that it is not a form of reasoning
at all, but a convenient expedient for recording and referring to our experi-
ence of particular or individual cases, It is obvious for the reasons
already given, that it is a form into which all deductive reasoning may be
phrased, and it is the one and the only form in which all the materials
considered and the relations involved are fully stated in language. We
concede that it is a form of linguistic expression or phraseology, but it is the
form appropriate to deduction, because it brings out in language all that
is thought in the mind. When for example we supply the premise that
had been suppressed in the enthymeme, we do not add that which is
superfluous to the process through which we have gone or to the argu-
ment which the process implied. We simply express in language what
we had thought or were ready to think in fact — that which if we had not
believed when we drew our conclusion, we should not have reached it
at all. Thus, if we did not believe that all lawful rulers ought to be
obeyed, we could not reach the inference that M ought to be obeyed be*
§443. REASONING. DEDUCTION" OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 445
cause he is the lawful ruler. We conclude therefore that the c©rrect
view of the syllogism is, that while it is not essential that any process of
deduction should be stated in this form in order to be valid, yet this is
the form in which every such process must be expressed when it is
fully expanded in language.
. Again ; In the syllogism the process of reasoning is fully expanded and corn-
completed pro- plete. It cannot be enlarged or extended into any form which is more
of tedu^tion?UCt complex. Any additional propositions, whether connected with either of the
premises or with the conclusion, are seen at once to be a premise or a conclu-
sion of another process. If for example we enlarge the premise, ' all lawful rulers ought to be
obeyed,' by the reason 'because it is the will of God, or an obvious duty,' we find ourselves per-
forming an additional process of reasoning, the object of which is to prove that the first
premise is correct. If we add a reason for holding that M is a lawful ruler, as l because he has
been properly commissioned or fairly elected,' we do the same for the second premise. If we
annex to the conclusion an additional remark, as therefore M ought to be obeyed, and to dis-
obey him is a serious crime,' we simply introduce a second conclusion, which requires another
argument to support it.
Possible changes Every argument, whether positive or negative, whether the
the -viio^ism °f ProPositions are universal or particular, can be expressed in
the form which has already been stated, by changes in the
phraseology or the position of the terms, without affecting the sense or the
force of the argument.
This is demonstrated at length in every treatise on formal logic. A few examples will
suffice for our purpose. If we make the first premise negative by substituting 'no lawful ruler
should be disobeyed,' the real nature of the argument is not changed. The same is true if in
the second premise we substitute ' some persons,' or use a part cf a class as an equivalent to a
smaller whole.
If we change the form of the first premise by inverting the order of the terms or by con-
verting it, which we can do with the negative premise and retain its full meaning, we bring
the middle term into the predicate of each of the premises ; but the argument and its power
to prove a conclusion are the same.
If we convert in a similar way the second, or minor premise, it brings the middle term into
the subject of each premise, but this does not alter the strength of the argument.
If we transpose the order of the premises, the relations of each part to the conclusion is
the same, whatever may be the order in which the two are uttered. These are the only
changes possible in the mutual relation of the parts of the syllogism, but none of these
affect the nature or force of the argument.
S 443. We mav therefore safely conclude that the form of
Problem or ° ,'■•', *f
question propos- the syllogism which we have first stated is as good as any
other to illustrate and exemplify the nature of the process of
reasoning.
We proceed therefore to inquire, what does the analysis of the syllogistic
form teach in respect to the nature of deduction as a psychological
process. As it is a full expression or expansion in language of all the
materials required and all the relations involved in an act of reasoning^
446 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §443.
no way can be so satisfactory and decisive of knowing what it is to rea-
son, as to analyze the syllogism.
We find first of all, that in every syllogism the force of rea
SgnScant! term soning depends on what is called the middle term. We have
already observed that in every convincing syllogism one
term must be used twice. Not only is this necessary, but this term must
stand in a fixed relation to each of the remaining terms, or no conclusion
can be reached.
That relation is indicated by the maxim announced by
Iristotie!um °f Aristotle, which is usually called the dictum de omni et nullo.
It is as follows : whatever is predicated of a class either
affirmatively or negatively, may be affirmed of tohatever is contained in or
under the class.
The original passage in Aristotle, npon which the dictum is founded, i3 the following : "Ocra Kara tow
KaTTjyopov/Ac'vou AiyeTai, irdvTa kcu Kara tou viroKeifievov prj0jj<reTat. (Cat, C. V. p. 3, & 4) ; cf. Analyt. prior,
I. 27, p. 43 a 25 ; 1. 28, p. 43 & 39. Top. IV. I. p. 121 a 25. We subjoin the following note of Trendelen-
burg. Idem prseceptum quasi syllogismorum fundamentum posteriores logici varie extulerunt aut in hunc
modum : nota notae est etiam nota rei, repugnans notae repugnat etiam rei, (nota autem nihil fere aliud
qunm prsedicatum,) aut in hunc modum : quidquid de omnibus valet, valet etiam de quibusdam et singu-
lis ; quidquid de nullo valet, nee de quibusdam et singulis valet. (Elem. Log. Arist, p. 89).
The middle term like every concept, stands to other notions in the two relations of extent
and content. 'A notion that is or is not in this extent, may or may not take to itself the notion
which is its content.' This last formula has the advantage of stating concisely both the
likeness and the difference between an act of judgment and an act of reasoning. In an act of
judgment, as we have seen, a concept may be expanded either in the direction of its extent or
of its content. So far as the single act of judgment is concerned, the notion is viewed in only
one relation, that of its extent or of its content, as the case may be. In an act of reasoning, a
notion, i. e., the middle term, is viewed in both these relations at once, as it were, and the result
is that a relation is observed between notions, where it had not been discerned before.
We set aside, as not material to our purpose, the special construction of the syllogism pro-
posed by Hamilton {Met Lee. 37), by which the relations of content are resolved into
The maxim of those of extent, and the maxim de omni et nullo is displaced by the following maxim ;
Hamilton. < whatever is a part of a part, is a part of its containing whole.'' We grant that it is
possible to contemplate and express the relations of content always as those of extent.
In the example, all lawful rulers ought to be obeyed, we may say, the concept, all lawful rultrs, is a part of the
notion, ought to be obeyed, and M is a part of all lawful rulers, therefore M is a part of the containing whole
ought to be obeyed. To express every syllogism in the language and under the relations of quantity may
or may not be convenient for any proposed logical analysis, but it does not set aside the relations of quality,
and their importance to the act of reasoning. The distinction still remains between the attribute or prop-
erty, and being or substance ; on which, as we have seen, rests all the possibility of forming the notion,
and of using it in judgment.
But whether we adopt the maxim of Aristotle or the maxim of Hamilton, it is all the 6ame with our
view of the middle term of the syllogism. It still remains fixed that the middle term must be compre-
hended under, or excluded from, another general term, in order that a conclusion may be reached.
The theory of the syllogism which founds the conclusion on the relation of agree-
Dictum of agree- ment between the terms is nearly allied to that of Hamilton. According to this view,
rccnt or n o n - the major and minor terms are conceived to agree (or not to agree) with the middle term,
the^enns611* and consequently to agree with one another. What is meant by to agree with, is not
very clear, unless the terms denote mathematical quantities, and the parts of syllogisms
are resolved into a series of equations. If* however, the phrase mean to be interchangeable in the conver-
sion of propositions, then, we have the theory of Hamilton, whose chief object seems to have been to devist
§444. REASONING. DEDUCTION OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 447
an analysis of the syllogism which should dispense with the necessity of conversion and reduction
^cf. Log., App. Y. and X.).
Another theory, founded on the interchangeableness of the terms, makes reasoning to
be a process by which we are justified in substituting one term for another. For ex-
^vfcution S ample, All men are mortal, etc., signifies : "Wherever ^ou find man, you cm
substitute or read mortal : "Wherever you find Peter, you can read man ; therefore,
wherever you find Peter, you can read or substitute mortal. Both these views present,
in principle, nothing new. They are founded on mathematical relations, from which the illustrations
and language are both derived.
J. S. Mill urges that the relation of the general to the particular is a mere accident in
Dictum of J. S. the syllogism ; that we reason from the particular [the individual] to the particular [the
Mill- individual] ; that the use of general propositions is a mere matter of convenience, in so
far as it enables us to refer, in a convenient form, to some of our experiences in the past,
and to apply any one of them to the individual present. For example, it is in no way essential to the con-
clusion, that we be able to state all lawful rulers ought to be obeyed, for we should reason that M ought to
be obeyed, from any single example of a lawful ruler who ought to command obedience. " If, from our
experience of John, Thomas, etc., who once were living, but are now dead, we are entitled to con-
clude that all human beings are mortal, we might surely, without any logical inconsequence, have con-
cluded at once from these instances, that the Duke of "Wellington is mortal. The mortality of John,
Thomas, and company, is, after all, the whole evidence we have of the mortality of the Duke of "Wellington.
Not one iota is added to the proof by interpolating a general proposition." " Not only may we reason
from particulars to particulars, without passing through generals, but we perpetually do so reason. All
our earliest inferences are of this nature. The child who, having burnt his fingers, avoids to thrust them
again into the fire, has reasoned or inferred, though he has never thought of the general maxim, fire
burns. * * * He is not generalizing ; he is inferring a particular from particulars. * * * From the
considerations now adduced, the following conclusions seem to be established : All inference is from parti-
culars to particulars ; general propositions are merely registers of such inferences already made, and short
formulae for making more. The major premise of a syllogism, consequently, is a formula of this description,
and the conclusion is not an inference drawn from the formula, but an inference drawn according to the
formula, the real logical antecedent or premises being the particular facts from which the general
proposition was collected by induction." {Logic, B. II. c. 3, §§ 3, 4. Cf. Locke Essay, B. IV. c. 17, §8.)
The doctrine of Mill is just at the opposite extreme from the doctrine of Hamilton.
How related to Hamilton makes the syllogism and deduction to depend solely on the relations of ex-
the dictum* of tent. Mill excludes these altogether, and makes the relations of content to be sufficient
Hamilton. &n(j g0^e< «The major premise, which, as already remarked, is always universal,
asserts, that all things which have a certain attribute (or attributes; have, or have not,
along with it, a certain other attribute (or attributes). The minor premise asserts that the thing or set of
things which are the subject of that premise, have the first-mentioned attribute ; and the conclusion is,
that they have, or that they have not the second. Thus, in our former example, all men are mortal,
Socrates is a man, therefore Socrates is mortal, the subject and predicate of the major premise are connota-
tive terms, denoting objects and connoting attributes. The assertion in the major premise is, that along
with one of the two sets of attributes we always find the others ; that the attributes connoted by man never
exist unless conjoined with the attribute called mortality. The assertion in the minor premise is, that the.
individual named Socrates possessed the former attributes ; and it is concluded that he possesses also the
attribute mortality," etc., etc. Logic, B. II. c. 2, § 3.
It is rather singular that Mill should have overlooked the fact that many of the scholastics adopted
precisely the maxim which he propounds, without dreaming that they introduced a principle inconsistent
with the dictum de omni et nullo. The maxim, Nota notse est etiam nola rei, repugnans nolce rcpagnat
ctiam rei, is exactly coincident with the maxim of Mill. Cf. Twesten., Logik insoesondere die Analytilc, 1825,
§§ 105 and 152. Trendelenburg, in the passage cited (§ 443), affirms that the two maxims coincide.
"We proceed to affirm that
n n of these § ^^' ^e relati°ns °f a Par^ t° a whole, or of both extent
mcta satisfac- an^ content combined, do not give to the premises of the
syllogism the power of demonstration. They suggest bat
do not express the relation which furnishes to the deductive process its
convincing power over the mind. While it is necessary that in every syllo-
gism the relations of part to the whole should be expressed ; yet this is
not the relation which gives to the deductive process its importance as
a method of knowledge. No syllogism is valid to which the dictum de
448 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §437.
omni et nullo cannot be applied, but it does not follow that the maxim
contains the real ground of our faith in the process which the syllogism
expresses in language. It may be taken as a decisive criterion and suffi-
cient rule by which to judge whether a syllogism is conclusive or fallacious,
and yet only suggest without expressing what actually influences the mind
to accept the conclusion. The relations, of both major and minor
terms to the extent and the content of the middle, may be the only rela-
tions that are expressed in language, and yet not furnish the real relation
which leads to our belief or knowledge. The rule de omni et nullo may
test every syllogism without stating the relations on which the argument
rests for its force to compel assent.
In point of fact, every attempt to explain the deductive process, as such, by these relations,
has failed, and the failure of these attempts has perpetually exposed the doctrine of the Syl
logism to suspicion and contempt. Cf. Locke, Essay, B. IV. Chap. 17, § § 4-8 ; G. Campbell,
Phil, of Rhetoric, B. I. Chap. 6 ; D. Stewart, Elements, P. II. Chaps. 2, 3 & 4 ; J. S. Mill,
System of Logic, B. II. Chap. 3 ; S. Bailey, Tlieory of Reasoning.
The objection usually urged against tliis construction of the Syllogism and the
The Syllogism deductive process, is that they involve a petitio principii either in one of the
not apetitio . . , , . , . , : ■ ,
principii. premises or m the conclusion, making the process to be either a needless
repetition of what is already known or a trifling explication of what was
obviously implied. For example, it is said by some, we cannot already know that every lawful
ruler ought to be obeyed, unless we have considered the case of every particular ruler, past,
present and future. But if we have done this we have already considered and assented to the
conclusion that M (one of the cases) ought to be obeyed, and it is useless to prove it by a
process of deduction.
To this it is replied, that we rarely if ever obtain our knowledge of what is true of a whole
class, by the observation or experience of what is true of each individual included under or
within it. We do not obtain our knowledge of any whole, by an enumeration and summation
of what is true of each of its parts, but by the process of induction, through which we gather
or are led to believe that what is true in a limited observation of a few individuals, is true of
the whole class.
But let this be granted, and it follows that the Syllogism and the deductive
The Syllogism process rests upon, and is but another name for, induction. This view of the
with induction!1 Syllogism is taken and earnestly defended by J. S. Mill. But this involves the
conclusion that the deductive process is a mere matter of form, and that demon-
stration and argument are superfluous ; that processes for proof are matters of convenience or
of form, and that the Syllogism is useful only as an exercise for ingenuity or a discipline to dex-
terity in analysis and acumen. It is obvious that if induction gives the major premise in the
form of an assertion of a whole class, as that all lawful rulers ought to be obeyed, then it is
mere triflin"- to add that M is of this class in order to prove that he ought to be obeyed. For
as soon as we recognize that he belongs to this class, we must know at once that he ought to
be obeyed without the form or process of proof.
This last does not follow of necessity, as we shall show in its place (§ 463), for we might
know these truths or facts without having our attention called to the relation which subsists
between them. To direct the attention to this unnoticed and unthought-of relation,
might be the simple and sole object of the deductive process, and the importance and
difficulty of doing this might be quite sufficient to explain the necessity of deduction as a
separate process.
§445. KEASONING. DEDUCTION OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 44rJ
The real error or defect consists in making the essence or import of both
Class relations induction and deduction to consist in classification and the apprehension of
do not explain , , . T_ . , ,. . , . . ' . , * , . ,
either process. class relations, u induction consists only or chiefly in establishing general
facts by extended observation, then deduction must by consequence signify
the recognition of what must already have been known in the formation of the class. If
induction is a synthesis of individuals into a comprehensive whole, then deduction must be an
analysis of this whole into its parts. If the synthesis has been carefully made, then the
analysis is unnecessary because it is superfluous. According to this view of the two processes
deduction is only subsidiary to induction, and when we seem to perform the process of
demonstration or proof, it is the inductive and not the deductive element which gives it any
value or force.
To the objection that deduction involves a petitio principii and is there-
Whately's doc- fore superfluous and without meaning or force, Whately, (Logic, B. IV., Ch.
Syllogism. 2, § 1,) replies by admitting that the conclusion is virtually contained or
implied in the premises ; but ' it does not follow that the deductive process is
therefore superfluous, inasmuch as it may be necessary to develop or draw out that which is
already implied or folded up in the premises.' This reply is to the point, and contains an im-
portant truth. But this truth is not consistent with that superficial view of induction which
makes it to consist of the synthesis of many individuals into a class. It is not easy to see how
any fact or truth can be implied or virtually contained, or how it can be folded and hidden, in
any proposition concerning a class that is thus constituted, or how there can be any thing to
develop or draw out from it, which was not already known.
§ 445. The relation which is characteristic of the deductive
reason to conse- process is that of a reason to its consequent, or of a ground
to its inference. It is by means of this relation that we
know objects in this mode or form of knowledge. This relation is sug-
gested to the mind in many cases of reasoning, — always in the syllogism —
by the relation of a whole to a part, or of a general to a particular, but it is
not therefore resolvable into this relation, nor should it be confounded
with it. When we say, all magnets attract iron / this is a magnet /
therefore it attracts iron : the word all suggests or indicates that there is
some reason founded on the nature or properties of the magnet, which
forces us to believe that this particular magnet will do the same. The
relation of whole to apart is stated as a fact, but the fact indicates a rea-
son, and it is upon this last relation that the necessity and the convincing
force of the deduction always turns. This relation finds expression in lan-
guage by because in the enthymeme, and by therefore in the syllogism. Be-
cause signifies by cause of. Therefore means for, i. e., on account of that, viz.,
that which had been previously stated in the premises ; there being equiv-
alent to the foregoing. Both words signify by reason of.
The relation of reason to its consequent or conclusion is primarily a relation
Is a relation of 0f concepts to concepts, by which we are forced to connect one with another
concepts to con- . . , , , . . m, . , . „
copts. in rational dependence or combination. This relation of concepts to concepts
depends on the actual relation of cause and effect between objects or things.
We are able to give reasons and to support our knowledge by reasons because we believe the
various objects and phenomena of the universe exist, and are produced in dependence upon
29
450 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §446.
one another. In cases of reasoning when actually existing things are not concerned, with theii
causes and laws, it will be found that their relations, whether mathematical or logical, are treated
or regarded as causal agents, constituting elements or operative laws, and as in this way involv-
ing necessitated mathematical or logical relations. (§§ 449, 450.)
8 446. In other words, and in order to explain the thought-
Depends on the " 7 A . ' i
relation of causes relation of reason to consequent or conclusion, and the pro-
andlaws. . .. . .. . ......
cess oi reasoning .in which that relation is involved; we
must assume that every thing that exists and takes place, whether in the
material or spirit world, exists under the real relation of causation or con-
stituting elements and laws. Every phenomenon and every thought-crea-
tion in the universe exists by the working of powers with which finite
agents are endowed in obedience to fixed conditions and laws, in order to
accomplish rational ends or results. Every such existence is an effect ;
material things, spiritual agents, nay, even mathematical and logical con-
cepts. The nature and the constitution of these effects are all explained
by the causes, conditions, and ends, by, under, and for which, they are
conceived to exist and to act. All these elements, when applied to ex-
plain their existence, or to resolve or confirm our knowledge when we
seek explanation or proof, are called reasons. When such a reason is
discovered to explain or account for a fact or phenomenon, the process is
called induction. When it is applied to give or confirm knowledge con-
cerning a fact or truth in respect to which the mind seeks to be informed or
convinced the process is called deduction. To know by either or both
of these processes is to know by reasons, i e., it is to reason, ratiocinari ;
it is reasoning, ratiocinatio.
But how does a cause, law or end, become a reason ? In what way is it that
How does this the mind finds in the necessary or constant connection which exists between
relation become , . , . . ., ,,./.,.,.'.-.,
a Reason. things, a means to that necessitated knowledge or belief which is gained by
reasoning ? We answer, reasoning itself, and deduction pre-eminently, is but
the recognition of this relation as a means to gain or substantiate knowledge. For proof of
this we appeal to the process of reasoning itself. In doing so, we should not employ any
of those trivial examples which occur in most books of logic, but rather select some example
of the process of deduction when it is of actual use, i. e., when it is employed to relieve the
mind from doubt, or to answer its questions as to what is true. We should take a case of knowl-
edge actually gained or of doubts relieved by a process of argument. In every such case we
shall find that the mind has no direct access to the object before it, but only one that is
indirect. The knowledge is not immediate and intuitive, and cannot be. It is only the cause, the
effect or the law, the end or the means, — one side or term, — to which the mind has any means
of access. But it knows or may know that under the law of causation this is necessarily con-
nected with the other term. The use of this knowledge for the relief of doubt in the confirma-
tion or the acquisition of faith, is reasoning. When the relation of causation is applied by the
mind to this use it constitutes the relation of reason and its consequent. The necessary connec-
tion pertaining to causation when thus applied gives convincing force to deduction. It is this
discerned necessary connection between a cause and its effect, means and end, etc. etc., which
is what we call the force of demonstration or deduction.
§447.
REASONING.— DEDUCTION OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 451
This is another but not unimportant confirmation of the principle essential to all sound philosophy,
.hat the relations of thought are but reflexes of the actual relations of things, and that every logical process
pre-Bupposes some faith or knowledge in real existence and real truth. The modern tendency has been
to resolve the forms of things into forms of thought. It is essential to bear in mind that all forms of
thought are but the reflexes of forms of things ; that if we do not begin with fundamental assumptions 01
beliefs concerning things, we cannot explain even the logical or thought-processes on which speculation rests.
That the deductive process and the syllogism are founded on the relation of causalitj
f A •• was disti^tty taught by Aristotle. He remarks, Anal. post. II. 2 : to p.ev yap airiov t!
w0tle> " fiicrov, which means in this connection, the middle term is causal in its significance
The entire passage is thus translated by "Waitz : ' quum omnis qusestio jam in eo verse-
tur, ut rei subjectse naturam sive causam per quam res ipsa existat, vel ob quam aliud
quid de ea prsedicatur, exploremus, quam quidem causam terminus medius exprimere debet.' Ax. Or. To the
like effect is the passage, Anal. post. II. 12, to yap p.4<rov oj.ti.ov. Aristotle distinguishes between the cause of
being and. the cause of knowing, translated ratio essendi and ratio cognoscendi, i. e., as we have explained, be-
tween the cause and the reason, but he does not show how the one is related to the other. It has been con-
tended by many modern logicians, for this reason and others, that in the passages cited he may have used
cause only in the sense of reason, and that he ascribed to the middle term causal efficiency only as meaning
' causal of the conclusion ; ' in other words, as the ratio cognoscendi in the logical as distinguished from the
real sense. The illustrations which he employs prove the contrary, for they are all taken from real causes
or agents. Besides, he distinguishes the causes which the middle term denotes as those which involve the
absolute necessity of the effect, from those which secure it for the most part, w? eirl to ttoAv.
The later Greek logicians being more occupied with the forms of the syllogism and its
application to the detection of fallacies than with its speculative foundation or its
The _ scholastic philosophical import, left very much out of view this important hint of their great mas-
ter. The scholastics committed the double error of believing that the syllogism was tho
sole instrument of acquiring new knowledge, or of discovery properly so-called, to the
neglect of induction, and of supposing that the formal relations of the syllogism constituted and measured
all the relations of things. Hence it was so generally received in the Continental schools ; that the
principles of identity, of contradiction, and the excluded middle — the so-called laws of thought — were the
only criteria of real truth and actual knowledge, and that the process of reasoning itself could be explained
by these axioms. It would be easy to show how the schools of Spinoza, Schelling, and Hegel were formed
if not founded upon this assumption.
Leibnitz is a distinguished and notable exception to this nearly uniform course of specu-
lation. He asserts that, for the purposes of philosophy, besides the principle of contra-
ception an GX~ Action another is required, viz., the principle of the sufficient reason. This is necessary,
as he asserts in one place, "in order that a thing should exist, an event should happen
or take place, and that a truth should be received." "Pour qu'une chose existe, qu'un
evenement arrive, qu'une vdrite ait lieu." Lettres entre Leibnitz et Clarke, iv. § 125. Cf. Arist. Met. v. 1.
§9 ; also Leibnitz, De Scien. Vhiver., Theod. Part i. §44. Monad. {Princip. Phil.) § 32. But the principle
of the sufficient reason of Leibnitz is explained and applied by himself without discrimination to the causes
of actually existing phenomena and the reasons of demonstrated truth. That is, the ratio essendi is not dis-
tinguished from the ratio cognoscendi, and of course there is no attempt to show the relation of the one to
the other. It is not surprising that a principle so imperfectly enounced did not take a permanent place
in the schools of philosophy. Even "Wolf himself, Leibnitz's professed disciple and expounder (Ontol.
§ 70 sqq. ; Met. § 30 sqq.), attempts to resolve the law of causation and the sufficient reason into the law of
contradiction. The tendency of modern philosophy has been to consider the law of the sufficient reason as
extra-logical (Hamilton, Dis. p. 603), or to derive it in both forms of real and logical-cause, from the relations
of concepts to concepts, instead of founding the ratio cognoscendi on the ratio essendi, i. e., on the relations
of things ; thereby inverting the processes of nature and destroying confidence in the grounds of knowledge
and of faith.
The reason oi § 44^* r^^ie conception of the logical reason is wider in its
ground wider ran^e and application than that of the real canse on which
than cause or ° L L
law- it is founded. The real cause is always prior to the effect
which it produces. The mind in apprehending or observing its actual
workings, assumes or supposes the cause, in order to observe or believe
in the actual effect. But in applying this relation for the purposes of
reasoning, the mind may begin with the effect and conclude to a cause, as
properly as when it begins with the cause and reasons to an effect. Either
452 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 449
involves the other in a connection of thought ; either can be made to imply
the other in the order of deduction or reasoning.
The reason and the cause coincide, when from an actual cause, (the conditions and laws
being included or supposed,) we reason to the certainty or reality of the effect. Thus the fire
did or will fall into a vessel of gunpowder, therefore an explosion did or will occur. They
diverge, when we reason from the effect to the cause, or when the effect is made the reason for
our belief or knowledge of the cause : as the vessel of gunpowder exploded, therefore heat in
some form was present. The known effect is in this case the reason for the believed or proved
conclusion.
In a similar way we reason both forwards and backwards from the means to the end and
from the end to the means, making either the end or the means the reason, and the means or
the end the conclusion.
So in moral action we reason from the motives forward to the act or purpose, and back-
ward from the act or purpose to the impelling motives, making either the reason for believing
the other, with such reservation as the nature of their mutual activity requires.
§ 448. The distinction should also be noticed between causes
Relation of j e powers and laws. Laws designate those permanent
causes to law. A or
circumstances or relations which, though not separate agents
themselves, modify the production of the effect, so that with or with-
out these, the effect does or does not actually occur, or the energy of the
effect varies as these circumstances vary. The best example of a law as
distinguished from a cause or agent, is the law of gravitation— According
to which the force varies inversely as the square of the distance. For
the purposes of reasoning, however, the law may be viewed as a new or
varying cause ; i. e., the power in question, e. g. gravitation, is known or
manifested as a cause which we can apply in deduction, so far as or
when it obeys certain laws.
In order that this may be intelligible, we observe that the various conditions on which an
effect depends, may, when philosophically viewed, be regarded as its causes. Thus to the
effect combustion, heat or a burning substance and the fuel are both requisites. The heat, as
being able to kindle or inflame, is one active agent. The capacity of the substance to be
inflamed, is another agency. Nothing in- the universe is entirely passive, but that which is
eminently active, is called the cause par eminence, while that whose efficiency is less conspi-
cuous is called the condition. Their joint product is the effect.
§ 449. When we employ reasons to prove geometrical truth,
G>asme8trical we Procee<^ *n a similar method, and the grounds of our
procedure and the consequent belief, are found in the
nature of the product regarded as dependent on certain efficient or con-
stituting elements which are viewed by the mind as necessitating certain
products or effects in a way similar to that in which an agent, whether
material or spiritual, brings to pass its results. The triangle, square, cube
and sphere are regarded as possessed of certain properties, which, in their
nature, when subjected to certain changes, or brought into certain com-
binations, make the real existence of certain other properties necessary,
and therefore evident to the mind. The ratio essendt, or the conceived
§450. REASONING. — DEDUCTION OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 453
properties of the geometrical figures in space as constructed in the mind,
oecomes the ratio cognoscendi. The nature of space, or of bodies exist-
ing in space, is the actual reason that the mind accepts the conclusion.
The geometrical construction has a quasi causal efficiency, the effect or
consequence of which cannot be set aside ; or the construction may be
viewed as a joint effect of the mind's activity, upon or within the supposed
conditions, as determined by the mind's intuition of space.
Thus: two triangles are similar, i. c., their sides and corresponding angles are equal,
because they are the halves made by the diagonal of a parallelogram. The reason is found in
the previously constructed properties of the parallelogram. But these properties are deter-
mined by the constructive acts of the mind, space being assumed as allowing the mind to
conceive or construct certain figures. The figures being constructed are divided, i. e.y new
figures are constructed — they are compared with each other — they are superimposed upon one
another — in short, there is a series of consecutive acts passing into effects, the acts deter-
mining the effects and the effects being determined or defined by the mind's acts and the
material, viz., space, with which it works. We reason from the act, i. e., the cause to the
effect, or from the effect back to the act, precisely as when the cause and effect are material.
There is no difference in the ground of the certainty when the product is mental. The relation
of the cause and the reason is in both cases the same. The reason rests upon the known
capacity of the mind to construct such an effect, viz., a triangle or square, by precisely the same
genetic or productive acts, under fixed spatial conditions.
What we call the nature or properties of the triangle or square are accounted for by the
mind's power to produce them, and the concurring aid of space as a condition or coagent to the
effect.
§ 450. The same is true, when we reason from the essential
immediate Syi- constituents of a logical concept ; or construct what some
logisms. ^ /- •
logicians call immediate syllogisms.
These scarcely deserve to be called reasoning proper, as the process is merely formal. But
if they are to be so regarded, then the parts and the whole, from which in such cases we reason
to one another have been previously fixed by the thinking power, or the power to generalize
at all. That is, these are products of the mind's creative energy which are referred in the
final explanation to the mind's own acting conformably to the relations or forms of thought,
which are assumed as conformed to the relations of things ; these relations being regarded as
fixed or permanent forces to all like constructions, just as space and number give law to all the
objects to which they pertain. These logical products as wholes and parts, positives, and nega-
tives, etc., are regarded as causal of certain results to any object brought into certain rela-
tions with them. They are reasoned of, as though they were actually existing beings with
causal properties ooeying unchanging laws. The parts make up the whole and the whole is
divisible into parts, because the mind unites these as parts and makes of them a whole, and
being so united they must hold true to the nature, i. e., the effect or product which the mind
has made by its creative activity. We say, some islands are surrounded by water, because it
is the nature of the island to be surrounded by water, i. e., because all islands are surrounded
by water. Duty can only be performed by a moral being, because it is of the essence
of duty to be performed by such a being. In all such cases we reason from what the mind
has produced to what is necessarily involved by what are called the relations of content and
extent. These relations we give to every concept which we construct.
These positions will be illustrated more fully in treating of the varieties of deduction.
454 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §452
CHAPTER VII.
SEASONING. — VAEIETIES OF DEDUCTION.
Fkom the analysis of the Deductive Process in general, we proceed to a special consideration
of the several varieties of deductive reasoning. These are determined by the differences
in the subject-matter upon or about which the process of deduction is employed, so far
as this subject-matter occasions a difference in the character of the reasons upon which
the reasoning depends. Material forces and reasons differ from the psychological and moral.
Both these are unlike the mathematical. Those which are purely logical differ from all the
others. The process, however, is common to all these objects so far as it is deductive, but
the subject-matter is in each case so peculiar in respect to the sources from which it is
derived, the evidence on which its reality rests, and the method by which the mind gains
and uses the knowledge involved, as to occasion a marked difference in what is usually
esteemed and called the process of deduction.
8 451. The varieties of deductive reasoning usually recognized
The varieties are . _ , _ " ,
three ; these are the Probable, the Mathematical, and the Formal.
Probable reasoning again is subdivided into three, the
physical, the psychological, and the historical, according as the subject-matter
is physical beings and phenomena, spiritual agents and their manifestations,
or those combinations of the two which make up human history. It is
often called applied reasoning, because its materials are facts known by
observation and induction, and to the materials thus acquired or furnished,
its processes are applied.
Mathematical reasoning is threefold, according as it is concerned with
continued or discrete quantity, or as it combines the methods appropriate
to each. It is Geometrical, Arithmetical and Analytical
Formal reasoning concerns itself with pure concepts abstracted from all
beings and phenomena, and with the relations which such concepts involve.
It is sometimes technically styled simply logical deduction, and its
arguments are called immediate or purely logical syllogisms.
§ 452. In probable or applied deduction, we may for the pres-
to™ defined!son" ent assume that the premises are furnished by induction and
observation. In respect to induction, it is for the present
sufficient that we affirm that by it we attain the knowledge of general
powers, properties or agencies, in the spheres of matter and of spirit. It
is in the same way that we reach what are called the laws of nature, viz.,
those universal conditions of the action of these agents which can be ex-
pressed in fixed propositions, and can be regarded as rules or regulators
of the occurrence or non-occurrence of their effects or phenomena. Both must
be considered, whenever an event is subjected to a process of reasoning.
But power and law in their relations to deduction may be considered as
the same, so far as each is a reason for the conclusion. In applied reason-
ing as defined, induction is always necessary to furnish major premises,
because there can be no reasons, if there are no general or universal pow-
ers or laws.
§452. SEASONING. — VARIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 455
For minor premises in these cases, observation often suffices, because it often furnisher
ndividual facts or events. When these minor premises affirm any thing of a class of general
ized objects, induction may be required as well as observation.
This description of reasoning is called Probable, sometimes Problematical and
The epithet ex- Moral, simply because the subject-matter depends on causes which are con-
qualified, tingent, and is not necessarily true. Its reality cannot be proved by demon-
strative evidence. As such it is contrasted with the mathematical and formal,
the subject-matter of which is in no sense a real being or event, and is dependent on no con-
tingency for its existence or occurrence, but on the properties or relations of mathematical and
logical concepts. As soon as the premises are constructed by the mind they need no evidence
from experience. They are obviously and intuitively true. The terms probable, etc., do not,
however, imply that the processes involved are less valid or convincing, or that the premises
or conclusions are less trustworthy.
But whether the reasoning process, as such, relates to facts
Suse^and laws? °f matter, to facts of spirit, or to facts of history, it rests
upon reasons in the way already explained. The facts are
reasoned out whenever the power or law with its conditions is employed
to prove that they must have occurred, inasmuch as the causes exist
which require them ; or whenever facts or events known to exist are ex-
plained by being referred to such agencies or laws.
Thus, the suspended weight let loose, it is reasoned, must fall, because the
In the sphere of force of gravitation is always in action ; or the reason why it fell, or why it
ought to be believed that it fell, is that this power was acting at the time.
The marble is decomposed by sulphuric acid because the lime has a stronger
affinity for it than for carbonic acid. The decomposition of these elements attended by offer-
vescence is explained by the operation of the stronger force over the weaker.
In the sphere of spirit, / reason that at the thought of Hannibal I shall always
In the sphere of think of Fabius, because the two, by association, have become permanently fixed
ep in my thoughts. By a reference to the operation of this power under its
laws, I explain the fact, that I thought of Fabius a moment previous. In a
similar way I predict or explain a particular purpose or course of conduct on the part of an
individual by referring to the reasons which are to be found in the joint actions of certain
motives and a supposed disposition or kind of character, both these being regarded as agencies
of spirit, or as conditions of its action which are regulated by fixed laws.
The student and interpreter of history reasons concerning events of the
past when he seeks to explain them by their appropriate causes and laws,
or to forecast the future by means of the great forces or agencies, — the so-
called principles — through which the course of events and the results of
important movements in society can be interpreted.
When an advocate reasons for or against the actual occurrence of a certain
In the legal event, by a reference to known principles of human action, or the testimony
argument. Q£ ^g^bie -witnesses, or when he reasons for or against the truthfulness of a
witness, or when, an event having occurred, as a theft or a homicide, he
reasons out a theory to explain the event, and reasons against a counter theory, he refers to
certain agencies and laws in the world of matter or in the world of spirit, and often in both,
as reasons adequate to account for the phenomena.
Deduction is more satisfactory and convincing when applied to material thaD
Why more satis- when applied to spiritual phenomena, because the agencies known in the one
factory in matter , , , , , ,
Shan in spirit. sphere are more numerous than in the other, and because the laws according
to which these agencies produce their results are capable of being expressed
456 THE HUMAN- INTELLECT. §453.
in mathematical formulae. Hence, in many of the physical sciences we apply the rigor, the
certainty and the variety of geometrical deduction, as in Mechanics, Optics, Navigation, Theo-
retical Astronomy and Chemical Analysis.
This introduces into the sphere of pure deduction a second element, viz. the mathematical,
which is combined with that which is contingent or problematical, in many of the physical
sciences, but which in the pure or abstract mathematics, gives character to what is called by
eminence mathematical reasoning.
§ 453. The objects or entities with which mathematical rea-
reasoSSg.lca soning is concerned, are constructed by the mind itself on
the suggestion of, and of course with reference to, certain
material things and occurring acts, which are related to one another in
space and time. Hence these entities themselves have certain definite
relations to space and time, which are called their properties.
We need not here consider all the questions which may be raised in respect to the nature
of these objects or the processes by which they are formed. We are concerned with those
only which are involved in and give character to mathematical deduction, and which must be
understood to explain this process.
We assume the reality (in some sort) of Space and Time. We
The entities or t ■*
beings to which assume also that we can construct and represent to our
minds, the various thought-objects with which the sciences
of magnitude and number are concerned. We certainly find ourselves, at
a certain stage of intellectual development, possessed of the concepts
which are employed in geometry, general arithmetic, and algebra — as the
Point, the Line, the Superficies, the Triangle, the Square, the Circle, the
Cube, the Sphere, the Cone, etc., as also the Unit, the Sum, the Difference,
the Multiple, the Divisor and the Ratio.
These are properly called concepts or general notions. Like
ai^concepJs*!*168 other concepts their constituents are aflirmable of the indi-
vidual objects to which they relate ; they have no separately
real, but only a relative and therefore a mental existence. The individual
objects of which these concepts are aflirmable are, as it would seem at first,
individual objects of sense or spirit ; as when we affirm a line, or point, or
superficies to belong to a block of ivory. On second thought, we are sure
that the mathematical point, line, or surface, cannot belong to any mate-
rial object as such, for the reason that there are no perfectly even or sharp
edges or even planes in any material object. Nor are there in nature any
perfect units, exactly the counterparts of one another. The mind must
construct or imagine such entities for itself, having indeed some, and
those easily recognizable, relations to the material originals.
These individual entities are then generalized, and become concepts ; having a content and
extent, and being capable of definition, division, and classification. The individual and the
general are however scarcely distinguished by the mind itself. The individual differences are so
inconsiderable and for the purposes of mathematical science so unimportant, that they do not
come into notice. The attributes and relations which they have in common and which con.
§454. REASONING. — VARIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 457
stitute their import, are entirely prominent and exclusive of the others. Indeed, in tht
mathematical processes the mind passes so quickly from the individual to the general and
returns again so suddenly to the individual as not to observe for the moment with which it hag
to do when considering the nature and relations of the line or triangle which is before it ;
whether what it observes or thinks of, is this triangle as an individual, or as the representa-
tive of all triangles conceivable.
It is another marked and distinctive peculiarity of these relations, that they are
Their properties clearly and entirely distinguishable from all other generalized properties. It
spiritual. is impossible that the length, breadth etc. of any material object should be
confounded with its sensible qualities, or that the distinctions of number
should be mistaken for those properties of matter or spirit of which sense or consciousness
takes cognizance. Not only are they clearly separated as a class, but each one of the class is
sharply separable from every other. The line cannot possibly be confounded with the surface
nor the sum with the difference. Then again the number of the more general of these rela-
tions is so limited as to be entirely within the reach of the imagination and the memory. The
mind is entirely certain that no one required has been overlooked. The eye can easily sweep
over the entire field of viewUtt a single glance.
8 454. Again ; these concepts, like all others, can, as has
Can be expand 5s °. J ' ,. ._r. ' ' '
ed in proposi- been explained, be expanded into propositions of content and
tions of content. .. _ -i-ir... ■, . -,
extent. Ine propositions of content are the definitions which
state the attributes which constitute the essence of each of the complex
concepts which we form by mathematical construction, as of the square,
the triangle, the cube, etc., etc. The best and most satisfactory definitions
are those which bring directly before the mind the act or process by which
they are supposed to be constructed. Thus, a line is defined as a point
moved in space, a point is produced by the intersection or termination of
one line by another, a superficies results from a line in motion, a solid
from a moving superficies, a sphere from a circle revolved about its diam-
eter, a cone from the revolution of a right-angled triangle about its per-
pendicular. Definitions of this kind also may serve to connect one
construction with another, and thus enable us to carry forward the prop-
erties of one — a lower — into those of another — a higher.
We recognize these definitions to be appropriate and true,
Slate?0118 P°S" because we know that we ourselves perform the processes
and achieve the results which the definitions describe. Such
definitions we sometimes phrase in the language of command, as, draw
me a line, move a plane, etc. For this reason they are called postulates, pos-
tulata, i. e., concepts which may be required and assumed without dissent.
The definitions of the concepts of number scarcely need to be given. We assume at once
that all men know what they signify. When an explanation of them is required we refer
directly to the processes of numbering, as adding and diminishing ; either by variable or
constant rates, etc., etc.
The peculiarities of mathematical definitions as distinguished from all others, arise from
die circumstance that they exhaust the entire import or essence of the concept. We are
certain that the definitions of a triangle and square are exhaustive. Such concepts are in theii
very nature transparent, we can see through them as through crystal water to the bottom of a
458 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §455
mountain lake. We know that the properties enumerated perfectly distinguish this concept
from every other. The definition does not indeed express all that is true of the concept as
related to every other in every conceivable combination, (else reasoning or analysis could not
add to our knowledge,) but it gives all that is essential to enable the mind to distinguish it
from every other, i. e., to know with entire satisfaction, and adequately to define what the
concept is with which it has to do.
Mathematical § ^55, ^e ProP°sitions of extent are such as these : Triangles
gjpositions of are plane and spherical ; and each of these are acute, obtuse,
or right-angled : and for the same reason that mathematical
definitions are exhaustive, mathematical divisions are known to be com-
plete. All divisions of extent grow out of the definitions of content.
Inasmuch, then, as these last are exhaustive, on account of the limited
number of the elements involved, it follows, that all possible subdivisions
which depend upon such elements, can be easily compassed and confi-
dently enumerated by the mind.
Hamilton pertinently observes : " Mathematical, like all other reason-
ing, is syllogistic ; but here, the perspicuous necessity of the matter necessi-
tates the correctness of the form ; we cannot reason wrong." — Works of
Beid, p. V01, n.
§ 456. Besides the definitions, there is another class of prop-
kmd™s °f tw° ositions called axioms. These differ from definitions in this,
that they state the necessary relations that are involved in the
nature or application of all the concepts of quantity as such, whereas each one
of the definitions states either the content or extent of some special concept.
Examples of axioms : such propositions as the following, * the whole is
greater than its part,'' i. e., it is involved in the construction of the concept
the whole, that it should bear this relation to another concept called its
part. The one requires its correlate ; involving the relations of greater and
less. We construct and therefore conceive the whole by the addition of
parts ; we construct parts by the division of a whole.
Again, 'if to or from equal quantities we add or take equals, the sums
or remainders are equal.' This is also seen at once to be true, and to be
involved in the very nature of equality.
Axioms of this first class are equally applicable to arithmetical and geometri-
How far applica- cai quantity. They affirm the relations which the mind must evolve and dis-
ble to Arithmetic ^ . . ., ,,-.„,
and Geometry. cern whenever it measures one such quantity by another. It is of the nature of
any quantity to be measurable ; it can be known as equal, greater or less, when
compared with another quantity. More exactly we say in the concrete ; separate objects hav-
ing relations to either space or time or to both, can measure one another. Equality, greater-ness
and less-ness, are discerned in and evolved from these acts of comparison. The axioms concern-
ing the equal, the greater and the less, state in general language and in special applications
what the mind necessarily believes in every particular case. They do not enable the mind to
apply a predicate to the individual because it has affirmed it of the general, but they affirm in gen-
eral what the mind is ready to assent to in every special instance. Cf. Kant, Kritih. p. 143,
ed. Ros., p. 176, ed. Hart., and Proleg. § 2. Kant contends, that though they are propositions
§456. REASONING. — VARIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 459
tl priori, they are not axioms at all. Mansel, in his Proleg. Log, chap, iv., contends that the}
are analytic ; i. e. when we say the whole is greater than a part, we simply express in distinct
language what is implied in the concept, the whole.
Axioms of this character are sometimes called analytic propositions as con-
Analytic and trasted with synthetic, because, as it is contended, they evolve or explicate in
synthetic ax- J ' ' ' J 1
lome. the predicate what is impliedly known or assumed in the subject.
There is another class of axioms, such as these : Two straight lines cannot
inclose a space : Two or more parallel lines, if produced ever so far in either direction, can
never meet. These axioms apply to geometrical quantity only. These are clearly synthetical
propositions. Whatever may be true of those of the other class ; in those of this the predicate
contains new matter which the subject does not imply. And yet these propositions are self-
evident and intuitively true. They cannot and need not be demonstrated. Their truth is as
obvious to the mind as is the possibility of constructing the original concepts involved, or the
propriety of accepting certain postulates. In all these cases the mind discerns the necessary
relations of objects to space.
Tatham, in The Chart and Scale of Truth, chap. i. sec. ii., asserts that axioms are self-evident, hnt not
intuitive, because, as he contends, if they were intuitive, they would " flash direct conviction on the mind,
as external objects do on the senses, of all men."
The nature and grounds of the evidence for the truth of
definitions self- mathematical definitions and axioms need not here be dis-
cussed at length : all concede that we give to both an unhesi-
tating and uniform assent, as necessarily and universally true. Whatever
theory is adopted in respect to the method by which we obtain this knowl-
edge, or the evidence on which we ground it, there is no question at all
in respect to the clearness and confidence of our convictions. Even those
who contend that we accept them on grounds of the uniform experience
of their truth, — whether reached by inseparable and ineradicable associa-
tions, or through the process of induction, — still regard these axioms as
unquestionably true. Those who hold that the mind believes in their
truth because it confides in the known results of its own productive activity
under the known and permanent conditions of space and time, have no
stronger conviction of their uniform and necessary truth.
The question has been earnestly agitated whether the axioms or the defini •
? A •i^doms °f ti°ns are tne foundations of geometrical reasoning. It has been very gener-
tain deduction 1 ally held that the axioms are the real principia upon which such reasoning
depends : that is, that they are the unproved but assumed major premises
of which, with certain minor premises furnished by the definitions, all the syllogisms are con-
structed, that make up the demonstrations of geometry.
It is obvious that the only kind of axioms which can be considered in this discussion, is the first class
which we have cited, the so-called analytic axioms. Those of the second class, all would concede, are aa
truly principles as are the definitions ; as capable as they to serve as major premises for syllogisms. They
are indeed more truly synthetic than the definitions themselves.
The method after which these demonstrations are conducted by Euclid, has lent a decided
support to this view. In all these demonstrations, these axioms are constantly cited aa
major premises for the truth of the conclusions which are derived from them. His arguments
are in substance as follows : All things that are equal to the same thing, are equal to one
another. The case of the equality of the two lines or angles to a third is a case of the kind
Therefore, this is a case of their being equal to one another.
460 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §457.
Against this doctrine, Locke, Essay, B. iv. c. vii. § 10, protests with great earnestness and force, that
we do not assent to the general proposition any more readily than we do to the particular conclusion which
it was designed to prove, and that the axiom, as a general truth, therefore does not serve as the ground ol
our belief. The only use which such axioms serve is, in controversy ; to silence wranglers, by showing them
that they not only believe the particular which is in dispute, but vastly more, i. e., the general which in-
cludes it.
Peid, Essays on the Intel. Powers, Essay vi. chaps, v. and vii., holds a different opinion, when he asserts
the importance of First Truths or First Principles as the necessary foundations of all our knowledge, and
instances the indispensableness of axioms as premises in geometrical reasoning. But when he comes to ex-
plain himself, he concedes the justice of the most of Locke's observations.
Principal Campbell, in his Philosophy of Rhetoric (B. i. c. v. § 1), takes the same view as Reid.
Dugald Stewart, Elements, Part ii. subd. i. c. i. sec. i. 1 and 2, agrees with Locke, and contends that
the definitions and not the axioms are the foundations or principles of geometrical reasoning. The axioms
he does not consider useless, but calls them elements, though not principles. The definitions he com-
pares to " the hook, or rather the beam," to which is attached a chain supporting a weight, while the axioms
" may be compared to the successive concatenations which connect the different links immediately with
one another."
For our present purpose, it is of little consequence to determine whether the axioms or
the definitions are or are not the principles of geometrical deduction. In the one case we
begin our series of deductions with certain general truths that are more extensive than, and
are prior to the subject-matter of geometry. In the other we find our first propositions in the
definitions, or the further truths which the definitions introduce and make possible.
The construction §457. It is more important to observe that what is called
figurS^Siii- geometrical demonstration is very far from being a process
ary lmes. of pure deduction. As preliminary to this and coincident with
it at every step, there is carried forward a process of preparing the mate-
rials concerning which we reason, so that they can be brought into compari-
son. This is ordinarily termed the construction of the diagram or the
drawing of auxiliary lines. In some cases these constructions are very
easy and simple, in others they are difficult and complex. In all cases they
task the power of invention, and of fertile suggestion. The mind must
divine or anticipate, or have a presentiment of what it will prove and
how it can prove it, as it proceeds with this preliminary construction. It
must maintain a continued course of inventing and providing middle
terms, so to speak. The preparation of the diagram for the demonstration
of the 47th prop. 1st book, of Euclid's Geometry, is no inconsiderable
achievement of inventive skill and sagacity.
It ought to be observed, that in order to be certain of the possibility of drawing some of
these lines, and of the character of the figures which will result from them, we cannot depend
upon either the axioms or the definitions, nor on the results of previous reasoning processes,
but we must rely solely upon our direct intuition of the properties and relations of the figures
which our postulates enable us to draw, and which our definitions describe. We know, for
example, by intuition only, that we can connect the opposite extremities of a square or
reetangle, and that the diagonal thus drawn will divide the rectangle into two triangles with a
common base. In constructing a rectangle, we must presuppose the space which we circum-
scribe, and some of the consequent relations to it and to each other of its bounding lines.
So soon as we divide this space, we add to this knowledge also, by direct inspection or intui-
tion. The same is true whenever we add to or divide any construction, whether it be original
or superinduced.
§458. . REASONING. VARIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 461
It should be noticed, that in all cases of complicated geometrical construction, the com.
. pletion of the diagram is the result, to a large degree, of a tentative process. "We draw
cesses oftenPre- a line» and tnen observe whether the new relations brought into existence by this con-
quired, struction may serve as connecting links between the point laid down and its proof. The
mind, by this process, builds a road, as it were, before itself, and thus goes on, step by
step, to the otherwise inaccessible goal. The geometer may not at once see where the path must lie, and
may make many vain attempts, before he can cross the space that separates him from his object.
The Dew constructions which we form for each new theorem, furnish fresh
New construe- material for yet other processes of deduction, and thus enlarge the sphere, by
new material. successive syntheses, of the objects to which our deductions can be applied.
The new truths which these new constructions enable us to discover are intui-
tively assented to in their conditions and their evidence. They are axiomatic, similar to the
axioms of the second class which we have already considered. The number of such axiomatic
truths made possible by the endless variety of geometrical constructions is well nigh unlimited.
With every new construction, some new relation is evoked, and its truth is intuitively assented
to.
The necessity of constructing the diagram in order to elicit additional knowledge has
Geometrical rea- led to a great variety of theories in respect to the nature of geometrical reasoning,
into^ construe- Some» as Schleiermacher, Dialelctik, have resolved the whole of the process into the de-
tion. vising of the requisite auxiliary lines, which being done, they assert that nothing more
is necessary than to institute a succession of measurements or comparisons of equal
quantities. These overlook the circumstance that the process of deduction is also employed whenever
we use general truths as the grounds of particular conclusions. Because the constructive process is an es-
sential, and oftentimes the most conspicuous element, they recognize no other.
Others, like J. S. Mill and Sir John Herschel, contend that all mathematical truth is
gained by successive processes of induction, as well the original axioms and definitions
A.so into indue- as ^e new truths which successive demonstrations enable us to discern. These think-
ers confound the conditions of discerning a truth with the process by which it is gained,
and the evidence on which it rests. Because the mind is forced to use individual exam-
ples of real things in order to fix its attention upon what it can construct and think of, they conclude that
the only possible way in which it can use them is to form inductions (which, by the way, are by J. S. Mill
resolvable into inseparable associations). Mill, having resolved the deductive process into induction, could
scarcely avoid the necessity of explaining mathematical reasoning by the same principle. The necessity of
a continued resort to new constructions in order to make any advancement in such geometrical deductions,
furnished him with a a plausible ground for this view.
Dugald Stewart, Elements, Part ii. c. ii. sec. 3, 1, on the other hand contends, that
mathematical reasoning is purely hypothetical. The definitions are the hypotheses
hvnothe^icai116 ^ which the mind assumes, and we deduce from these the legitimate conclusions. But he
does not explain at all how the mind is enabled or induced to form such hypotheses,
nor how it enlarges them by successive constructions, with the aid of auxiliary lines and
diagrams. And yet, that the mind is somehow capable of forming a limited number of such hypotheti-
cal constructions, all in some way growing out of and related to another, he constantly assumes.
§ 458. In geometrical reasoning it is necessary that the sev-
quantitiesmeas- eral quantities should be measured by or with one another.
Indeed the diagrams are constructed, and the needful auxili-
ary lines are drawn for this end, that the parts may be so prepared that
one may be compared with another. As the triangle is the simplest figure
that can be constructed, the original measurement to which, in the last
analysis, all others are reduced, and by which they are tested, is that of two
triangles. In Playfair's Geometry the first act of demonstration and that to
which all the remaining attach themselves and are referred, is that of the
fourth Prop, by which two triangles are superimposed on one another. The
possibility of comparing two triangles being established, we have the
means of comparing all those plane figures which can be resolved inta
462 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §459.
equal triangles. This may be considered another auxiliary step in geomet-
rical demonstration. It is obvious however that this is not deduction
proper.
It should here be noticed that the fact that in geometrical reasoning we are
Misapplication constantly establishing relations of equality, in other words are substituting
°f thls fact- one quantity for another, has led to the belief that this was the aim and type
of all reasoning whatever. Hence the effort to explain all the logical relations
by those of mathematical equality and to resolve the judgment and the syllogism solely
by relations of agreement or substitution. Because on account of its special subject-mat-
ter geometrical deduction is the clearest and most rigorous, it was concluded that it furnished
the type for all deduction whatever. Hence, equality, agreement, substitution or identity,
have been so extensively employed to explain deduction. It was not considered that geomet-
rical deduction is only a single species under the common genus, and that the explanation
of a process common to the whole genus by relations appropriate to a single species, must
of course be unphilosophical.
Geometrical rea- § ^^' -^ remains for us to inquire how the process of de-
soning explain- duction is applied to the elements and processes of geometri-
ed by an exam- * -^ ( . .
Ple- cal demonstration which we have described. This will enable
us to explain its nature. We can do this most satisfactorily by an ex-
ample.
In the fifth proposition of Euclid's geometry, B. I., it is proposed to prove that the angles
at the base of an isosceles triangle are equal. The first step is to prepare the diagram by
producing the two sides A B, and A C, indefinitely towards D and E.
A In the lines thus drawn, the two points F and G are taken at equal
distances from A, and B G and C F are joined. It is manifest ' to the eye,''
as we say, that we have twd pairs of triangles, A B G and A C F, B C G
and C B F. The first two have the two corresponding sides equal — the
one by construction, the other by the addition of equals to equals — as also
the included angle common. By deduction from the conclusion of the
fourth proposition, the bases C F and B G and the several angles are
proved to be equal. These two conclusions give, in the two smaller tri-
angles, one side of each equal ; by subtraction of the equals A B and A C
from the equals A F and A G, the sides B F and C G are equal ; that
their included angles are equal was proved as a conclusion from the syllogism founded on the
fourth proposition. It follows by the same syllogism upon the same premises, that the angles
B C F and G B C are equal. These equals are, then, taken from the equals A 0 F and A B G,
and the remainders are equal. These are the angles at the base of the isosceles triangle.
It will be seen that the syllogisms employed are either five or two, according as we con-
sider the axioms to be or not to be the foundations of geometrical deduction. There are three
cases in which the axioms, if equals be added to or taken from equals, are employed in what,
in form, appear to be syllogisms. In the other two the conclusion of the fourth proposition is
made the major premise, and the conclusion is regularly deduced. In all, we have a general
proposition for a major premise, a particular case for the minor, and the conclusion made up of
the major and minor term. That is, there are in all these cases, formal syllogisms ; but there
is this difference ; in the one case the axiom adds no force to the belief of the conclusion,
because this would be equally clear to the mind without it ; in the other, we are referred to
the nature of the concept or construction— as of. two triangles equal in two sides and the in-
cluded angle— as necessarily involving equality in the remaining side of each. The reason
for the conclusion is the properties of such triangles as constructed by the mind, by means
§ 460. REASONING. — VARIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 463
of the known properties of space. It would be a trivial fiction to say that it is of the nature
of equality, that two things equal to the same thing are equal to one another ; but this must
be said, if the axiom is a reason for the special applications of itself.
But again : we demonstrate or deduce in this way by these two concatenated
Generalization syllogisms, that the angles at the base of this particular isosceles triangle are
in the process, equal to one another. But we see at once that it must follow that whatever
is true of this or any isosceles triangle must be true of every one. Hence
we generalize this conclusion directly, and make it ready to be used as the major premise of
another syllogism. This is the last step in the process of a geometrical demonstration. It is
not by induction proper, however, that we pass from the individual to the general, for the
reason that the properties and relations of space which are used in an individual construction
in space, do not like those of matter indicate one another with more or less probability,
but each requires the other by an unavoidable necessity which is open to intuitive inspec-
tion.
It scarcely need be said, that there is in geometry much which is called deduction which is not such
in fact. It is very easy, in this science, to arrange a series of propositions which shall conform to the rules
of formal logic, when there is no force of real reasons. The same may he true in probable reasoning. It
is not difficult to assert general truths which have no greater force than the particulars which appear to be
dependent upon them.
The processes of arithmetic and algebra are scarcely considered processes of deduction
Deduction in a* a^' no^ ^ecause deduction is not present and actually performed, but because it plays
arithmetic and so inconsiderable a part in reaching the result. The chief concern of the mind in per-
algebra. forming problems of this sort, is to invent such combinations and to apply such meth-
ods of dealing with them, as will bring to pass the result— which is usually to state
some new equation between elements that can be evolved from the data. The mind seeks to change the
expression of the quantities given, so that they can be advantageously compared. The mind deduces only
when it applies some rule or principle, or uses a formula previously determined to be true of all members
or all objects similarly situated with the individual case. Both these processes are similar in principle to
the expedient of devising auxiliary lines in geometry. The particular result is readily generalized.
§ 460. The third species of reasoning is the formal or purely
h?isindiate syl" ^ca^ sucn as *s employed in immediate syllogisms. Here
the reason for the conclusion is found in some one of the
necessary relations of the concept, whenever such a relation or property
can be applied or viewed as a cause necessitating some new relation. In-
asmuch as there are several such essential relations, a variety of such
deductions is possible. Syllogisms of this sort are called by Kant
syllogisms of the understanding, because the understanding is defined by
Kant to be the logical faculty. The relations or forms of the understand-
ing are the grounds or reasons for all such deductive conclusions. These
conclusions are sometimes styled immediate, in contrast with those which
are mediate, because they are built upon a single proposition, or more
exactly because no middle term is present or provided in the ordinary
acceptation of the word. The major premise is derived from an expansion
in language of those relations which necessarily belong to the concept,
and therefore may be expressed in propositions. These arguments are
usually treated in books of logic under the title of the Conversion and
Opposition of Propositions, and often are not treated as syllogisms
at all.
464 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. §461,
The following is an example, usually cited as of subaltern opposition : All
islands were originally attached to a continent ; therefore, some islands, or
position?8 ~~ °P' '^** island, e. g. Ireland, was originally attached to a continent The argu-
ment in this form is an enthymeme. In order that it may be expanded
into a syllogism the major premise is required : it becomes whatever is true
of all islands is true of some islands ; it is true of all islands that they were attached to a
continent ; therefore it is true of some islands that they belonged to a continent.
We assert, No man is perfect ; therefore, some men, or this man is not perfect : the major
premise being whatever is denied of all men is denied of some men.
In conversion we conclude from All men are mortal, that some mortals
are men. From No man is perfect, that no perfect being is a man,
Conversion. and so on throughout the cases that are possible, the major premise in each
instance being a periphrastic proposition, as the predicate affirmed of all men
may be the subject when limited by some, etc.
It might seem at first that the proper major premise in such cases, should be the more general axiom,
as in the first example ; whatever is true of any whole is true of its part. But on a second thought we cor-
rect ourselves by observing, that in such a case no middle term can possibly be devised to connect the major
with the minor. The same is true, only more eminently, of what are called the laws of thought — as the laws
of identity, of contradiction, and of the excluded middle ; no matter is furnished in such propositions, by which
we can proceed to a conclusion. They are not laws of thought in the sense of being major premises for
deduction. They are rather generalizations of the particular processes which the mind performs, and of the
relations which they involve. They are simply rules for logical consistency (cf. § 548).
on what does § 461* "-^e f°rce °f tne argument in all these cases of purely
the reasoning logical reasoning, is found in the essential nature of the
concept, involving certain relations, as of the lohole to its part,
of the subject to the predicate, and of the positive to the negative. But the
nature of the concept is but another name for properties or relations
which the mind nect-ssarily conceives every concept to possess, which
the mind must necessarily think it to be, or be able, in other relations, to
effect or occasion. The mind cannot conceive it except as a whole, con-
taining parts ; the whole and the parts each having the same content or
essence ; the positive being contrasted with and deniable of its opposite or
negative, and vice versa. The mind must respect its own creations, and
create according to the relations under or according to which it thinks.
These products possess the properties which the mind's creative act gives
them, and these must be thought out into all the applications or con-
sequences which these properties suppose. The purely logical properties
or relations are as truly causes of the object known in the conclusion, as are
physical causes and mathematical relations. So far forth they are used by
the mind as the reason of its knowing. It makes no difference whence
their efficiency is derived, whether from the act of the Creator, giving
force to mental and physical energies under their appropriate conditions ;
or from the thinking power of man, giving thought-being and thought-
properties to the products of its own activity, according to relations which
are the very conditions of all knowledge.
§ 462. REASONING. — VARIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 465
In every kind of deduction, whatever may be the subject-matter, we are held
All deduction is to reason logically, i. e., with formal consistency ; i. e., to deduce according to
laws? ' °S1Ca tne formal as well as the real, the analytic as well as the synthetic nature
and relations of the concepts which we employ. We must accept and hold
to the definitions which we ourselves lay down. If we fail to define our terms we are sup-
posed to accept them with the import in which they are usually received. As rules or laws,
to aid us in this logical consistency and rigor, the usually recognized laws of thought have
been devised and employed which are known as the law of identity, of contradiction, and of
the excluded middle (§ 548).
We are also required to reason according to the relation of genera and
Technical logical sPecies an(i tne rv^es which respect the conversion and opposition of proposi-
deduction. tions. It does not often happen that the so-called logical or pure syllogisms
are separately drawn out, because they are so easily followed and the force
of the conclusions from them is rarely questioned. It is only when some oversight of these
relations is allowed, that we have occasion to separate the reasoning which is purely logical
from that which is founded upon the matter, whether this is mathematical or real. In such
cases we call attention to the error or oversight by distinguishing the logical from the other
relations with which it is combined. We then suppose the concepts to be correct in respect
to matter in order that we may show the reasoning to be defective in form. We for the mo
ment concede the truth of all the propositions asserted and point out the error in the logical
conduct of the argument.
In reasoning which is confessedly hypothetical, where the matter is merely
Hypothetical supposed, for the sake of the argument as we say, as in all cases of the
reasoning. reductio ad absurdum, and in many instances for the purpose of tracing
certain facts or assertions to their consequences, the consequences are said
to be the results or conclusion which are required by the argument as such. This kind of
reasoning differs from the technically logical as in the immediate syllogism, in this, that the
reasoning does not turn upon the essential relations of the concept as such, but upon the rela-
tions or properties of the object which are conceived to be real. We treat the concepts as
though they represented realities. We view them as real. They are to us as if they were
real. Thus : we suppose the diamond to be incombustible or the diameter of the earth to be
of a given length, or the force of gravity, or the properties of oxygen or hydrogen to be so and
so ; it makes no difference whether these properties are real or untruly taken, we reason
about them as though the objects existed in fact and their relations or properties were
correctly conceived.
But in the logical reasoning technically so termed, i. e., in immediate syllogisms, the reasons
are found not in real properties or mathematical relations, whether they are correctly or
incorrectly taken, but upon certain relations essential to the concept as such, which cannot
be assumed as hypotheses but are necessarily true of all concepts and objects a? conceived.
The relations of wholes to parts, of a proposition to its converse, of a positive to a negative,
are always the same and always known.
Two elements in § 462, ^e foregoing analysis of the varieties of deduction
auction046 °f de~ w^ ^ave PrePare<^ us to distinguish, in reasoning, that part
of the process which is preparative or auxiliary, from that
which is simply and strictly deductive. That which is characteristic of
every kind of reasoning, is derived from the elements and materials with
which these subsidiary processes have to do. But in what we call the
act or process of reasouing, the two operations are so intimately blended
together, they are so closely and intimately intertwined, that it is not easy
30
466 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §462
to distinguish the one from the other. For example, in probable reason-
ing, the force and conclusiveness of the argument may seem to turn chiefly
upon the facts of observation and testimony which establish the minor
premise, or the inductions which support the major, and very little upon
the act of bringing the two together in the relations of an argument.
The auxiliary and preliminary steps are all that are needful. As soon as
these are taken, the conjunction of the parts as major and minor, as prin-
ciple and case, as law and fact, might naturally occur to the mind and give
the inevitable conclusion. In geometrical reasoning, as we have seen, the
establishment of the conclusion sought for, depends almost entirely on the
skilful suggestion of the appropriate auxiliary lines, and the orderly con-
catenation of the several arguments, so that they may tend to %and issue
in one result. In common life, the issue of the reasoning depends upon
the establishment of certain facts, in connection with certain principles.
Upon the proof of the facts and the enforcement and illustration of the
principles, the reasoner expends the resources of memory and invention,
of wit and eloquence. The facts being established and the principles
received, the argument enforces itself (cf. Trendelenburg, Log. Unter-
suchungen, ii. 280-83).
The invention of middle terms, or media of proof, is an art or power in
The invention , . . „„ . , , , . ,
and establish- respect to which men differ more widely than in respect to the merely logical
terms °f mlcldle power, or the capacity to derive conclusions from their premises. There is
a greater diversity in regard to the readiness, fertility, and appropriateness
of the materials which we can command, than in the power to discern the applicability of the
law, the principle, or the reason to the case which we have in hand. Upon skill and aptness
in these processes, is founded very largely the estimate in which the ability of a reasoner is
held. Preeminence in these goes very far to determine the reputation of a powerful debater
or controversialist. But this affluence of invention and skill in selection must be attended
with a ready tact in forecasting all the results of a multitude of deductive processes, when
applied to all the cases which the fancy suggests. There must be present the power to gen-
eralize the highest and the remotest abstractions, the habit of seeing all facts in their relations
to their principles and reasons, the capacity to hold the attention evenly and steadily in long
and closely-connected series of deductions, all which capacities come only from the special
development, and usually from the patient and practised training of the philosophical powers.
When these habits are matured by such training, the soul learns to act with the precision and
rapidity of intuition. It must so act in order to reason with success when pressed by a powerful
antagonist, in the haste and excitement of debate, or under the unexpected and ingenious
assaults or defences which are elicited in an active controversy.
often the most ^e establishment of the principles or the reasons which are
important part involved and required in an argument, is often the point of
ot the process. m * .
chief importance. In such a case, the power to discern the
widest relations, and to analyze the most subtle properties, comes most
into play. Inasmuch as in what is called induction, the deductive power
is prominently employed, there can be no question that in this part of the
reasoning process, the logical faculty, or power of analytic and consistent
thinking is especially tasked, and superiority in it is necessarily manifest
§463. EEASOOTNG. — VAKIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 46*?
The po ver to fall back upon principles readily and surely, and to apply
them to special cases with aptness and force, is the power which distin«
guishes the reasoner from the man of extensive knowledge, the man of
fertile invention, the man of ready wit, or the man eloquent in descrip-
tion and appeal. All these endowments, either singly or in combination,
give richness and force to the argument. It is a command of the princi-
ples that are required to establish the truths or events which are in ques-
tion, which distinguishes one as a reasoner. To this power must be
superadded, as it is always supposed, the capacity to proceed with logical
clearness and rigor from the reason to the conclusion. When the succes-
sion of arguments is complicated and long, when the facts are so numerous
as to tend to distract the attention, when plausible reasons for error
or falsehood closely resemble those which are valid and pertinent,
the power to maintain a series of deductions steadily to their one
result is, strictly speaking, the logical or deductive power. This marks
the logician proper, as he is contrasted with and distinguished from the
reasoner,
3 „ • § 463. We are now prepared to answer the question which
Does deduction " A x -1
add to ^our has been frequently and earnestly agitated, whether deduc-
tion adds to our knowledge. Many have contended that it
does not and cannot. They urge, that if we know the major premise,
we already know the conclusion ; that when Ave assent to the major, All
men are mortal, we have already settled the question, that Peter also is
mortal, and that whatever advantage there may be in using an argument
to this conclusion, it does not add to our stock of knowledge. We do
not, it is urged, gain by it any new truth.
To this argument, in the form in which it is urged, we might
may need to be reply, in the first place, that if we substitute for " we know
already," the phrase " we might know if we would think or
reflect," there would be less reason to object to it. For the very object
of reasoning is often to lead a person to reflect or think concerning the
facts or principles to which he assents. Thus, when a man institutes a
process of deduction, or follows one presented by another, one of three
things may be true. First, he may never have accepted, through igno-
rance or want of thought, the major premise, the principle or reason
which it involves, or, at least, not so distinctly as to be ready to apply it
in every particular case. But he may be induced to accept it for the first
time by the very excitement of the occasion — i. e., by the use or applica-
tion which is to be made of it. This proposal may so challenge and
excite his attention, that he is induced to reflect upon it in order to apply
it. Second, he may never before have accepted the minor so as to be able
to connect it with the general truth, even though it had already been
familiar to his knowledge and assent. Third, he may have accepted both
major and minor, but may never have thought of the two in such a con-
468 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §464,
nection as to perceive that relation between the two which involves the
truth of the conclusion.
This last would not be accepted as possible by those who view the dictum de omni et
hullo as giving the entire theory of the deductive process. Such persons would contend that
we must know the parts before we know the whole ; and, indeed, in order that we may know
the whole ; and that, therefore, if we already know the whole, as expressed in the major pre
mise, we must also have known the parts, thereby rendering the deductive process super
fluous. But this reductio ad absurdum proves that this theory of the deductive process must
itself be defective, rather than that the process itself does not add to our knowledge.
In the second place, an argument is usually addressed to a person who
has not accepted a conclusion, by a person who has accepted it. The one
who uses the argument, knows this conclusion to be true. The person to
whom it is addressed does not know it. The argument is the means used
to make him know it. In some sense of the phrase, it adds to the knowl-
edge of the person whom it convinces. It ordinarily does this by leading
him so to reflect, that he enlarges his knowledge or his belief. First, it
may be, he is led to accept the major ; next, he assents to the minor ; and
last of all, he is induced so to connect the two, that he himself is con-
vinced, and of himself accepts the conclusion.
Reasoning is, in fact, constantly employed to enlarge the knowledge of men.
Deduction, in j^ wouid be idle, as it might seem, to contend that the student of a system of
fact, enlarges ' ° ' J
our knowledge. geometry does not thereby add to his knowledge, or that all the knowledge
which he gains is acquired by induction or intuition. It seems to be almost
trifling to assert, that a student of philosophy, whether natural, moral, or political, does not
increase his knowledge by the study of the many arguments which he encounters ; that it is
the new facts which he acquires, or the fresh inductions which he makes, which alone increase
his acquisitions. Deduction is constantly employed as a means of instruction in all depart-
ments of science, and it would seem with the greatest advantage to those who gain knowl-
edge thereby.
It may not be true, that reasoning imparts the knowledge of new facts. It
Deduction may usually happens that the mind has already accepted the facts which are con-
facts. ea° n6W cerned, as unquestionably true. Or, if it should chance that some new fact
or facts are established in the course of an argument, it is not the facts that
are counted of consequence, but it is the relation of these facts to the principle or reason
which is of prime importance.
§ 464. This leads us to the decisive answer to this view of
of relations the deductive process. Knowledge is as truly concerned
with the apprehension of relations, as with the cognition of
facts. If we turn to the definition of knowledge which was originally
laid down, we shall find that the apprehension of relations is as important
an element in the process as the apprehension of facts, and that the various
sorts or kinds of knowledge are distinguished as truly by the relations
which are known, as they are by the objects between which these relations
exist. New or additional knowledge is as properly the knowledge under
new relations of facts already known or very familiar, as the acquisition of
§464. INDUCTIVE SEASONING OR INDUCTION. 409
new facts by observation, testimony, or intuition. Deduction applies
reasons to facts or events, in order to establish their truth, or explain their
existence or occurrence. It is often required, as we know, to convince
ourselves or others that a fact or event must have been true or must have
occurred. The man that is convinced by such a process of the reality of
the fact, must thereby have gained new knowledge of its relations.
Or, again, the process is applied to explain why it occurred ; the fact
or event being admitted, the reason for its occurrence is asked for. When
that reason is given by the application of the deductive process, the fact
*s known in a new relation. The knowledge of the fact as explained by
its reason is certainly new knowledge. Deduction applies general causes,
elements or properties, as reasons to confirm or explain events and facts.
It not only adds to our knowledge, but it adds knowledge which is
eminent for its worth and dignity — thought-knowledge of the highest kind
—knowledge in the light of the principles and laws which govern and
explain all individual facts and events.
Mr. Herbert Spencer {Principles of Psychology), and Mr. George Henry Lewes {Aristotle, § 64, 64 a.)
deserve great credit for the advance which they have made upon Mr. J. S. Mill, in so distinctly asserting
the truth, that what we call the knowledge of facts involves the knowledge of'relations. But they all labor
in their exposition of reasoning, both deductive and inductive, under the common defect of being com-
pelled by the fundamental principle of the positivist metaphysics to reject all relations except those of
co-existence and of succession, i. e., to admit the relations of time and space in some sort, but to exclude the
relations of causation and design. Hence Mr. Lewes is shut up to the necessity of saying, that " correct
reasoning is the ideal assemblage of objects in their true relations of co-existence and succession." {Aris-
totle, § 65.)
It is quite remarkable that Mr. Lewes, after proceeding so far in the right direction* should have the
boldness to say that the method which recognizes two relations, viz., those of co-existence and of succession,
ts the scientific; and the method which recognizes two more, viz., those of causation and adaptation, is the
metaphysical, and then should define "metaphysics" as "the coordination of unverified facts," and
" science" as "the coordination of verified facts." (Cf. Aristotle, § 75.)
CHAPTER VIIL
INDUCTIVE REASONING OR INDUCTION.
We have seen that, in order to perform these processes of deduction which relate to facts and
events — the processes called probable reasoning — the mind must be furnished with major
premises or general propositions. Whether these propositions express only the extent
of a class in which particulars are included, or general grounds or reasons by which some
particular is explained or established, it is obvious that such propositions must first be
gained or furnished, in order that they may be applied to particular cases. Unless such
premises are possessed, the process of deduction has no meaning. It may not be neces-
sary that the major premise which is required in a given case, should have been assented
to before the occasion occurs for its application. So far as lapse of time is concerned,
there may be no interval perceptible or actually perceived between the act of acquiring
470 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §465
and of applying the general truth. But in the order of thought, the two acts are entirel)
different. They differ in their nature and in the grounds on which they rest.
The process by which we gain the truths thus applied, is called induction or inductive
reasoning. What is the nature of this process ? What are the conditions and grounds
of its exercise ? What the assumptions on which it rests ? What are its applications to
human knowledge, and what are the rules for its successful use ? These inquiries are all
natural and necessary, and present themselves for solution at the present stage of our
inquiries.
8 465. Induction is usually defined as the deriving of
Inadequate defi- ° : .,,.,.. ■
nition of indue- generals from particulars / and in this is contrasted with
deduction, in which we are said to proceed from generals to
particulars. This definition is correct so far as it goes, but it is by no
means precise or exhaustive. There are many processes conceivable in
which we derive generals from particulars which are not processes of
induction.
For example : We observe ten oranges, and, noticing them one by one, perceive a com-
mon likeness of qualities. We gather the results of our observations into the general judg-
ment or proposition : all these oranges are slightly oval, or light yellow, or yellow mottled
with green. It is obvious that such a judgment, though general and derived from particulars,
has not been gained by induction. Suppose we go further in a similar direction, and derive
a general proposition which should apply to all the oranges which we have ever seen, or a?
the individual men whom we have ever encountered, or have ever heard of, and assert of th •.
latter : all these have died. Or suppose we assert : all crows are black, all swans are white,
meaning thereby all that have as yet existed or have been reported. Or suppose we carry the
generalization still higher, and assert : all ruminants — i. e., those observed or discovered —
divide the hoof. None of these are the general propositions which are gained by induction.
inductions of That they cannot be, is obvious from the fact, that such
beiBSd Snde- propositions cannot be applied in deduction. To seek thus
duction. t0 appiy them, would be an idle form attended by no advan-
tage, and leading to no conviction.
If all that we know or had learned was simply : all swans hitherto observed were white,
or all men observed or reported have died, we should already havo included in the major
premise the truth of the conclusion, and it would be idle to expand the knowledge already
gained into a form of deduction. Or, if we had not previously determined whether the indi-
viduals now concerned were of the class of swans or men, we should not yet be competent to
say that all swans were white, or all men were dead ; that is, we should not have gained the
major required. The moment that the requisite observations were made, and we had gained
the major required, we should have gained the conclusion ; i. e., we should have gained by
observation, what we might propose to gain by reasoning. With such general propositions as
premises, deductive reasoning would be either superfluous or impertinent.
"If induction," says Galileo, "must go through every individual
instance, it would be either useless or impossible ; impossible if the
number of cases were infinite ; useless, because then the universal proposi-
tion would add nothing new to our knowledge." Apelt. Theorie der
Induction, Leipzig, 1854, p. 142.
§ 406. INDUCTIVE EEASONING OE INDUCTION. 471
And yet inductions like these — so-called — have been named
such inductions ' i i n i -i • i • -i • mi
styled the purely by some the only perfect or truly logical inductions. JLney
are called perfect for the reason that the evidence for then?
is decisive, and cannot admit the possibility of mistake ; whatever is
true of each part of the extent of the concept, must be true of all when
taken together or grouped as a whole. It is sufficient to observe that, if
they are exposed to no error, they contribute no truth. They are safe
but useless. They admit of no application, except as a convenience for
the memory.
Cf. Hamilton, Logic, Lee. xvii. § 62 ; also Lee. xxxiii. § 108 ; also Appendix vii.
Whately, Logic, B. iv. c. i., contends that induction is properly applied to the processes
of observation or experiment, by which the facts are collected or from which our inferences are
made, and that the inference is properly an act of deduction or syllogistic reasoning, the major
premise of which is the assertion that the facts observed and generalized represent the whole
class.
"When they are called truly logical, the process is the reverse of what is called pure logical
deduction, i. e., the simple analysis of the extent of a concept into its constituent parts or
elements. But the real import and force of logical deduction is, as we have seen, not found
in this formal process, or the relations of quantity which it involves. If the induction
described is alone worthy to be dignified with the epithet of " truly logical," it is shown to be
worthless for the higher knowledge to which logical forms are subsidiary.
§ 466. That which is properly called induction is a process
proper indue- of another character. It is the results of this process only
which are of any use in deduction. Examples of it are such
as these. I observe a certain number of oranges, and notice their char-
acteristics, and infer or believe that all oranges have certain peculiarities
of form, internal constitution, habits of growth, etc., etc. In like manner,
I infer all swans are and must be white ; not merely all the swans that
have existed, or those which have been observed and described, but the
whole species in the past, the present, and future. In such cases we take
the examples which we have observed to stand for or represent the
entire class.
But by what authority do we thus substitute the whole for a part ? By what process do
we advance from the observation of a few individuals, or, as the case may be, of a few species,
to a belief or certainty that what is true of these few must hold good of all that are like
them ? The process is certainly unlike that by which we gather our individual observations
into a general statement, and say, what is true of the parts separately considered, is true of
them all when taken together. For, in every such case, we affirm, what is observed of the
few, is presumed or assumed to be true of all. The ground of this assumption is, that the few
represent the many — that the parts are a fair specimen or example of the whole.
" C'est cet acte de notre intelligence par lequel nous faisons passer (ducere in, eiray<ayrj en grec) a tous
les points de l'espace et de la duree, et a une serie indefinie d'existences semblables ce que nous avons observe
dans tel lieu, dans tel moment et dans un nombre restreint d'individus, qui est designe par les phiiosopbes
sous le nom ^induction. H<bc, dit Ciceron (Topic, c. 10), ex pluribus perveniens quo vult, appcllalur inductlo
fuse grsece enayuiyrj nominalur," Diet, des Sciences Philosophiqucs. Art. Induction.
472 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §468.
8 467. It is obvious that such assumptions are constantly
Such inductions ° x J
are constantly made by us, and that upon them rests not only the entire
superstructure of scientific knowledge, but all that practical
wisdom which we acquire from experience. Indeed, without them, our
experience of the past would be of no use for the future. Without these
assumptions, the observation of facts or events, and the judgments of
similarity and classification founded upon them, would give us only certain
summaries of what had occurred in the past, but which could be affirmed
only of the objects and events from which they were derived. But we do
more with them than this. We apply them to future time and to other objects
and events, with entire confidence, and without the slightest misgiving.
We judge of the taste and quality of the food or fruits which we eat, not only by having
eaten of one part and inferring in respect to the remainder, but before eating, by an induction
founded on the qualities which we discern by the other senses — i. e., by peculiarities of form,
structure, color, and smell. We accept or reject, we desire or loathe, that which has not been
tried, through our confidence in these carefully observed indications. We do the same with
articles of medicine. We do not care to try each fresh piece of rhubarb, or take of every
new parcel of arsenic, opium, or strychnine, to be convinced, by actual experience, that the
signs by which we know the substance to be rhubarb or strychnine, show that it will act
medicinally, or destroy life. We do not caress a ferocious-looking dog, or come near a horse
who makes vicious demonstrations, upon the wise suggestion that experience has not taught us
that this particular dog will bite, or this horse will kick ; but we give both of them a wide
berth, on the ground of observation or testimony in regard to others like them. We learn, by
trial, that certain kinds of soil and certain processes Of culture, are favorable to the vine, the
strawberry, the rose, and the tulip. We derive rules which we assume will always apply
to these plants. In the department of science, we develop oxygen and hydrogen from a
quantity of water, and believe that water, whenever treated in .a similar way, will give the
same gases. By certain broader assumptions, we conclude that electricity causes the phe-
nomena of lightning ; that gravitation holds the heavenly bodies in their places, and moves
them in their orbits. These various kinds pf knowledge are examples, as they are the results
of the several assumptions referred to.
in what respects § 468. It follows that judgments of induction differ from
fro^simp^fe simple judgments, in certain important particulars. To
judgments. return to our first example : we see ten oranges with certain
well-defined characteristics ; or it may be, a hundred or a hundred thousand.
We bring them under their appropriate concepts, and judge or affirm
these concepts of the individual objects. In induction we proceed
further : we add to these simple judgments yet another, viz., that what
we have found to be true of these, may be received as true of all others
like them. In other words, we extend the original simple judgment to
other objects than those to which it was first applied. The ground of the
first judgment is facts observed and compared. The ground of the
second is what is called the analogy of nature. A judgment of induc-
tion is then a judgment of analytic observation, added to or enlarged by
a judgment of analogy. The judgment of observation is founded on
§ 470. INDUCTIVE SEASONING OR INDUCTION. 473
observed similarity. The judgment of analogy is founded on interpreted
indications.
The very words signs and indications, which are used so freely in common life and in
science, imply this very truth, viz., that certain events or attributes that are observed, give
information of — i. e., signify or indicate — that which is not thus known.
8 469. What is usually called experience, includes acts of
Relation of ex- s . J . , . ' ■, -,
perience to in- i?iduction. Simple observation and judgment do not con-
stitute what we usually call experience ; for this imports not
only that we have made and preserved observations, but also that we are
capable of applying the results in parallel cases. This implies the power
to discriminate between cases that are, and those that are not similar.
Without this power or discipline, observation or bare experience would
be possible, but useless. For it would enable us simply to attain and retain
our knowledge of the past, but never to apply it to the future.
We could record what we had observed, and generalize what we had compared, but could
find neither wisdom nor instruction for the future and the untried. Those who are so
ready to oppose facts to inferences, experience to theory, observation to speculation, should
always bear in mind, that in the simple experience and observation of facts, there is neither
instruction nor use without the added element of induction, which is always a judgment by
means of signs or indications ; or an interpretation of facts.
In performing this process, or, more exactly, in this part or step of the
Caution to be process, much caution and care are required. It is by no means true, that
judgments. a^ *ne characteristics which occur together in the same object or event, can
be judged to be necessary or essential companions. It might happen that
all the oranges which we had eaten, had derived their flavor from a particular tree or soil, and
yet were like many other oranges in form, color, etc. ; none of which had acquired this taste.
The induction that such characteristics indicated this taste, would be false and unauthorized.
A man familiar with rabbits might never have seen any which were not gray. It would be a
natural but false induction for him to make, that none were black or white. A person might
have succeeded with the crop of which he had sown the seed on a particular day of the moon,
and have failed in every instance in which he had sown on any other day; and yet4the
induction might be irrational, that the sowing on that day was the cause of his success. In
the history of scientific discoveries, many plausible inductions have been set aside as un-
tenable. In valid inductions, we infer what is familiarly called a real, permanent, and con-
stant connection between the qualities, attributes, or laws inferred, and those which were
observed. If we could ascertain and be able to express the grounds upon which we proceed,
they might be the appropriate evidence of a wise induction. The criteria by which we judge
one process to be legitimate or false, would be the criteria of every correct judgment of this
kind. The rules for a correct procedure, if they could be ascertained, would be the rules in
which we might confide.
8 470. In view of these considerations, the questions return
Importance of a " . ■*
correct theory of upon us with augmented interest and importance : What is
Induction. / . ,
the ground, what the nature, and what are the rules for a sound
induction? They are questions which have often been asked, and not
always very satisfactorily or thoroughly answered. As preliminary to the
development of the correct answers, and to a satisfactory theory of indue-
474 THE HUMA^ INTELLECT. § 471.
tion, we may profitably consider a few examples in which the process has
been successfully applied.
The inductions of common life have already been noticed.
Examples of in- m Trp n i • -i n • i
auctions of com- Iney amer trom the inductions of science, in that their
results are incapable of being reduced to universal state-
ments to which there are no exceptions. £Tor do they result in the dis
covery of ultimate properties, agencies, and laws. The inferences which
they furnish are usually general maxims to which there may be many
exceptions, or undefined and vague impressions which language can neither
embody nor impart. They are carried far enough for practical convenience,
but not far enough for scientific curiosity or instruction. Their results are
seen in the common sense and common prudence which are essential to
the performance of the common acts and duties of common life. By
means of them men interpret the signs of the material universe, the dis-
positions and acts of the brute creation, as well as the thoughts and feel-
ings of their fellows by looks and actions. Uncommon skill and readiness
in interpreting such indications is termed acuteness, discernment, sagacity,
and tact. Less than the usual capacity to make such inductions quickly
and correctly, is denominated slowness and stupidity. The average
capacity is called common sense in one of the senses of this widely-used
appellation.
§ 471. The second class of examples of the process of induc-
o?scienceUCtl°ns ^on *s furmsne<^ by ^ne discoveries of science. The induc-
tions of common life are in one sense discoveries, but the
indications are so readily interpreted and the inferences are derived with
so great unanimity and universality, that the intellectual process (or
processes) by which they are made, attracts little attention, and is, there-
fore, not readily analyzed. Bat when some new and wonderful agent in
nature is brought to light, or some new law of its acting is established,
and especially when the power or law is applied to some brilliant or useful
result, and we inquire with the greatest interest, How came the discoverer to
think of that ? How did he satisfy himself that what he thought was true ?
we are more likely to -find an answer to our questions, inasmuch as the
steps of the process have often been slowly made, and the considerations
which have led to them can be distinctly reproduced.
We select, first of all, the brilliant discovery by Franklin of the identity of
Franklin's in- Ughtninq with electricity.. With the electrical agent, or, as it was called in
auction of elec- J * «f._ _ . ,. .,„.,. ^
tricity. his time, the electric fluid, Franklin was entirely familiar. He was so far
master of the methods of developing it in sufficient quantity or intensity, as
to be able to produce its ordinary and obvious phenomena, as well as to exhibit phenomena
that had previously been unknown. He had the electrical machine and the Leyden jar, and
could produce at pleasure the electrical light, and the report following the connection of
bodies in opposite electrical conditions. With these, then somewhat novel phenomena, he
had become entirely familiar in observation and thought ; as familiar as men in common life
INDUCTIVE REASONING OR INDUCTION. 4 75
are with the aspect or form of a fruit, or with the expression of a gentle or vicious animal
He had also closely observed the phenomena of lightning, and had noticed similarities which
had never been thought of before. The wave-like sheet and the zig-zag line and the loud
report were seen to be like the less impressive phenomena of the machine and the Leyden
jar ; and it occurred to his thoughts that the similarity of the phenomena indicated a common
agent or power as their cause. This suggestion was strengthened by the thought, that clouds
might be to clouds, or clouds to the earth, as the opposite surfaces of the Leyden jar. The
mere observation of similarities like these might have satisfied the mind of Franklin, that the
power or fluid in the heavens must be the same with that which could be accumulated by the
machine from the earth. When at last he succeeded in bringing the power in question to
affect a small quantity of matter, when he made it to run along an insulated kite-string, to
emit a spark, to charge a Leyden jar — in short, to exhibit not only similar but the same indica-
tions with machine electricity, the induction could no longer be doubted. The decisive
experiment proved the correctness of the thought.
Dr. Black was led to the discovery of carbonic acid gas, by observing that
Dr. Black's dis- caustic lime increased in weight when changed into common lime, and by
bordc^acid gas!*" inferring that this weight must be derived from some agent of or in the
atmosphere. This suggested the thought that the other alkalies, being like
caustic lime in other properties, were like it also in this. The experiment was tried, and the
suggestion was found to be correct. This put him upon the inquiry what the agent was which
entered into combination with all these substances. The inquiry resulted in the separation
of carbonic acid gas as a newly-discovered agent, and the determination of its properties and
laws.
Lavoisier discovered that a metal, by rusting, gains in weight ; and it being
Lavoisier's dis- previously known that the phenomena attending upon combustion and the
covery c oxy- rus^mg 0f metals were similar, oxygen was discovered and its properties
were ascertained. The most important step toward this result was made
during the previous researches concerning Phlogiston, which had established the generalization
of a common process in the formation of iron-rust, in acidification, in respiration, and in
ordinary combustion.
Dalton is said to have discovered the law that chemical combinations are
Dalton's indue- effected by the union of their constituent elements in fixed proportions ; and
equivalents™1^ tnat> when a larger portion of an agent, as oxygen, enters into such a combina-
tion, it is invariably a multiple of a smaller. He was led to this by the
knowledge that, in some cases, a combination in such proportions had in fact been observed.
Being a teacher of mathematics and accustomed to mathematical relations, he generalized the
result of a few chance observations into a universal law ; it " being irresistibly recommended
by the clearness and simplicity which the notion possessed."
One of the most instructive instances of modern discovery, is that achieved
Davy's discovery by Sir Humphrey Davy, of the metallic bases of the alkaline earths. The
etc P° assmm' similarity of appearance and of many chemical properties between such
alkalies as potash, soda, and lime, and the clearly identified oxyds of metals,
had led to the suggestion, that they were similar in chemical constitution — i. e., that they all
were oxyds of metals. But the metals believed in do not exist in nature in a separate
state, nor had they ever been exhibited in separate form by any agent of decomposition hitherto
employed. The suggestion that there were such metals, and that they might be evolved, was
confirmed by all the indications required as evidence, except their actual production. The
application of the galvanic battery to chemical decomposition, and the triumphant success
which had attended its use, led Davy to try it upon the hitherto intractable and irreducible
potash. Under the solvent power of this wondrous agent, the knot which had never before
been unloosed was untied in an instant. At the magic touch of this new instrument, the
little globe of the newly-discovered metal leaped into view, and the happy suggestion was con
476 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 472,
firmed and accepted as an undoubted fact. It scarcely needed the experiment to convince
the sagacious interpreter of the secrets of nature, that similar metals were encrusted
within common, lime and soda. The discoverer was almost as certain before as after the battery
was applied, that calcium and sodium would in fact be evolved.
The consideration that the electric agency could alone overcome combina
Me2y°nof f the tions like these> in its turn started the suggestion that the union of all
electric and chemical elements is to be ascribed to the electric force, acting in certain
(* nfynmp.3.1 forces
methods and after certain laws, and that their tendency to unite is overcome
by bringing these elements into an opposite electrical condition. This suggestion was tested
by a great variety of experiments, with such results as to establish it as a truth beyond the
possibility of doubt or question ; thus bringing chemical laws and the electrical force into a
most intimate relation.
8 472. In the last series of discoveries we notice the following
The order of ° _ , _ . __. °
thought in these order and progress 01 thought and experiment. First, the
oxyds of metals were observed to be like the alkalies in
certain important properties. But the metallic oxyds were known to be
produced by chemical changes ; copper, iron, etc., constantly undergoing
this process before our eyes. The two substances being alike in certain
particulars, it was conjectured that they were alike in others. If the
simple potassium had been within reach, or could have been found in a
separate state, the readiest way to determine the point would have been
to oxydize potassium, and see whether the result would be potash. The
next thing was to Je-oxydize it — i. e., to undo what nature was supposed
to have done, or rather to separate the elements which nature was sup-
posed to have united. This was accomplished by the agency of galvanism.
It was then observed that this galvanic agency could decompose many
chemical compounds which were exceedingly unlike, and it was suggested
that possibly there were none which it could not overcome. If this were
so, it would follow, according to the known laws of this agent, that the
force which held them in union, must be electric. This was established
by its appropriate evidence, and is called by Whewell, " the highest
generalization at which chemical philosophers have yet arrived." Hist.
Inductive Sciences, B. xiv. c. 10:
The mental process is precisely the same which has been already
described. Certain objects are seen to be alike in certain properties or
laws. It is believed or judged that the similarity in these particulars
indicates likeness in others. Potash is like iron-rust in certain re-
spects ; therefore it is like iron-rust in being the oxyd of a metal. All
chemical compounds are strikingly alike in certain particulars. Certain
of these are separable by the electric force; therefore all are separable
by this agency. But if separable by it, all are held in union by the same
force.
Discoveries in From discoveries of this kind we pass to those in astronomir
thorny?1 co- COjl physics — to the discoveries of Copernicus, Galileo^
pemicue, Kepler, and Newton.
§ 472. INDUCTIVE SEASONING OE INDUCTION. 477
Copernicus begins by discovering, as it is said, the heliocentric theory of the sola?
system. The way in which he was led to adopt and defend it, is described by himself. He
had found in ancient authors, accounts of Philolaus and others who had asserted the motion
of the earth. " Then I began to meditate concerning the motion of the earth ; and though
it appeared an absurd opinion, yet, since I knew that in previous times others had been
allowed the privilege of feigning what circles they chose, in order to explain the phenomena,
I conceived that I also might take the liberty of trying whether, on the supposition of the
earth's motion, it was possible to find better explanations than the ancient ones of the revolu-
tions of the celestial orbs.
" Having, then, assumed the motions of the celestial orbs which are hereafter explained,
by laborious and long observation I at length found that, if the motions of the other planets
be compared with the revolution of the earth, not only their phenomena follow from the
supposition, but also that the several orbs and the whole system are so connected in order and
magnitude, that no one part can be transposed without disturbing the rest, and introducing
confusion into the universe."
" Thus," says Whewell, " the satisfactory explanation of the apparent motions of the
planets, and the simplicity and symmetry of the system, were the grounds on which Copernicus
adopted his theory ; as the craving for these qualities was the feeling which led him to seek
for a new theory." Whewell, Hist. Ind. Sciences, B. v. c. ii.
In 1609 Galileo constructed his telescope, and very soon discovered the
Preparations for satellites of Jupiter. This at once confirmed the Copernican theory, by
Newton! Very ° opening before the eyes of men another system subordinate to the solar,*
of heavenly bodies revolving about their primaries, thus giving an analogon
of the greater. The subsequent discovery by the same instrument of the phases of Venus, at
once confirmed the new theory of the revolution of the planets about the sun, and answered
an objection against it by explaining why Venus did not appear larger when nearer the
beholder.
Copernicus furnished the suggestion by reflecting on the known fact, that the apparent places
of objects may be accounted for by the motion of one or both, and that the solution or theory
which was the simplest, was to be preferred. Galileo, by his telescope, prepared the way
for the experiment, by enabling observers, in a certain sense, to observe for themselves, which
moved — the sun or the earth.
Kepler prepared the way for the sublime discoveries of Newton, by his
Process by which determination of the orbits of some of the planets, and the law of their
his induction. motions. Newton had been himself familiar with the law by which, in
obedience to terrestrial gravity, bodies fall to the earth's surface. The first
thought which led him to extend this agent to the celestial bodies occurred to him in 1666,
when he had retired into the country from Cambridge, in the twenty-fourth year of his age.
" As he sat alone in a garden, he fell into a speculation on the power of gravity ; that, as this
power is not found sensibly diminished at the remotest distance from the centre of the earth
to which we can rise, neither at the tops of the loftiest buildings, nor even on the summits
of the highest mountains, it appeared to him reasonable to conclude that this power must
extend much further than was usually thought. ' Why not as high as the moon ? ' said he to
himself; 'and, if so, her motion must be influenced by it; perhaps she is retained in her
orbit thereby.' " Pemberton, View of Newton's Philosophy. Preface. Upon this suggestion,
he proceeded to the calculation of the deflection of the moon from a tangent to its orbit in a
single second ; it being assumed that the moon was at the distance from the earth which was
then received. The result disappointed him ; for he found that this deflection would be
thirteen feet, which did not correspond with that required by the supposition that gravity
deflected it. He laid his calculation aside for years. The subsequent discovery that the
course described by a falling body is an ellipse, and that the distance of the moon from the
478 - THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §4^5
eartli. could be correctly ascertained, enabled him to accept his theory on the ground that it
coincided with actual fact. The distance of the moon had previously been computed on an
assumed but mistaken diameter of the earth. A more accurate measurement of. a degree
upon the earth's surface led to a correction of the distance of the moon, and Newton's theory
was henceforward accepted as a demonstrated truth. He first conjectures that the extension
of a known force from the earth to the heavens, is possible and rational. He asks, " if so "
" what then ? " following out his induction by a mathematical deduction. He then, by other
mathematical calculations, tests this by a decisive experiment, and the conjectured agent is
established as a vera causa, and its laws are carefully computed : the true theory of the
heavenly bodies is forever settled.
L, . , ' 8 473. The examples cited are sufficient to illustrate the
Why inductions o ' *
in physics are nature of the inductive process and the assumptions on which
the most strik- r . .
ing. it rests. They have been taken from the physical sciences,
not because these differ essentially from those which concern moral and
political subjects, but because they are better suited for our purpose. The
objects with which they are concerned are more interesting to the majority
of men. The effects of discoveries in them are more obvious. The
experiments and observations which have led to them are more brilliant
and startling. Many of their results are permanently fixed in the arts of
life, both useful and ornamental. Some of them are continually brought
home to our thoughts by engines and instruments which materially con-
tribute to the convenience and comfort of man. The telescope, the prism,
the quadrant, the hydraulic press, the steam engine, the galvanic battery,
are all permanent memorials of what these processes have wrought, and
they prompt to eager inquiries after the secret operations by which they
were first constructed in thought.
D diff-r ^e attentive consideration of these examples proves that
from those of induction in science is substantially the same process with
common lite. m ... .
induction in common life — that it is a process of interpreting
indications, — in other words : of judging by means of discerned prop-
erties and laws that there are others which we have not yet discerned,
and could neither notice nor know by direct observation.
Why are the in- § 4 ^ 4* *^n^s assertion would prompt the inquiries, Why, then,
ductions of sci- are the processes of common induction so easy and those of
ence more aim- * # J
cult ? science so difficult ? Why is the progress to common sense
so easily and. rapidly made in the infancy and childhood of the individual,
and why have the advances of science been so difficult ? Why so long
delayed ? — why, even now, is it true that in respect to so many branches
of knowledge the race is yet in its infancy ? To these questions the fol-
lowing answers can be given. It is important to consider the facts which
they present, because they tend to throw important light upon the nature
of the process of scientific induction.
§ 475. We notice first, that in science, the properties observed,
The indications an(j wHch are the indicia or indicators of others, are less
less obtrusive. • 7
obtrusive than those used in common life, and are often
§477 INDUCTIVE REASONING OK INDUCTION, 479
far removed from common observation. To be apprehended even, they
require closer attention than men in common life are able to give.
If they were able to fix their attention upon them with success, they would not be willing
to do it from the lack of that interest, that strong curiosity which is rarely developed and
matured into a habit, except by special training in some school of art or science. Many of
these properties can only be apprehended by some nicely constructed aid to the powers of
sense, or some costly and ingeniously devised apparatus ; to the production of which special
inventive sagacity was required, which sagacity has itself been the fruit of many men or
generations which have gone before. One instrument has grown out of another, or it
has been slowly perfected in its constituent parts. Every such improvement has enabled the
observer to perceive properties or to effect measurements which were entirely beyond tho
notice and the reach of the unaided powers of perception.
„ . §476. Second: The inductions of common life are founded
Require more o . • ■ • . •
discriminating on observations that are not discriminating. Those of
observations. m °
science rest upon the sharpest analysis. The common ob-
server observes facts and detects principles in regard to things or powers
in the gross, either as they are combined or are worked in nature. He
does not go far beyond the things and phenomena which the common
necessities of life require men to distinguish, which things and results,
in their constitution, are, causes and laws ordinarily more or less com-
plex. The scientific observer continually aims to detect and separate, by
a refined and acute analysis, powers and agents which are never divided
except by artificial appliances, — and some of which are never parted even
by these. Hence the experiments of common sense and the experiments of
science, are very different.
Common sense observes the effects of objects and powers as they are brought together
or divided by the manipulations of nature. Science parts and conjoins, in every possible
method, with the express design of observing some effect, which effect shall, in its turn, de-
cide some question of curious intelligence. Science often violates or intensifies some par-
ticular power or property, in order to consider it alone. She separates or accumulates in
order that she may estimate or measure gravity, electricity, light, or heat. She becomes
familiar with, and treats and talks of these as though they were distinct agents in the uni-
verse. It becomes in a certain sense true that the scientific observer creates a special and
separate world of objects for himself.
_. .'•-'. §477. Third: Many of the inductions in science are far
The inductions « J
of science more more general and comprehensive than those of common life.
comprehensive. ■ « n . ~ i
It is a fact of the universe of matter and of mind, — explain
it or not as we may — that these subtle agents or laws which science
detects one by one, are far more general and extensive than those which
observation discerns.
Of course they furnish the ground for more varied inductions. They can be applied to
explain a greater number of individual phenomena. They suggest very many possible
theories. They incite to a manifold greater number of experiments. When any such com-
prehensive power or attribute is established, it can be used in a large number of deductions.
The deeper we go beneath the surface we not only find things which are more novel than
480 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 479.
the casual and practical observer notices, but we find things which are immeasurably better
fitted for science, which seeks for comprehensive causes and general laws, that for this very
reason are unifying and explaining principles.
8 478. Fourth : Another fact must not be overlooked.
Recognize ma- «
iatiSwtical re Many °f these agents operate under geometrical relations,
and according to arithmetical rules. They are thereby con-
nected with relations which are at once the most varied in their applica-
tion, and capable of the most definite description and computation.
The relations of space and number are capable of being affirmed of every material entity
and force, and hence if any are found to exist and act according to such relations we have at
once the ground or means of a very comprehensive generalization. The language of mathe-
matics is the most precise and intelligible, the most easily communicated, and the most
easily understood of all language. The tests of measure, weight, and quantity are the most
easily applied of all tests.
The sciences of space and number are also capable of the clearest, the most convincing, and
the most fruitful of deductions, and hence so far as they can be legitimately applied, they can
most readily test experiments and record their results. One of the distinguishing peculiar-
ities of scientific inductions is found in the circumstance that they are so widely, and severely
mathematical.
8 479. Fifth : Science is essentially more a growth than is
One induction ° _*/ . ' __ ' J _. ° ..
prepares the way any other species oi knowledge. One discovery not only m
fact prepares the way for another in the actual history and
order of man's attainments, but by the necessary dependence of one dis-
covered law or agent upon another. The discovery of the law of universal
gravitation was in the nature of the case impossible without the aid of
pure Geometry, Algebra, the Calculus, and the lavjs of Mechanics. Optics,
with the use and the invention of the telescope, had been in part de-
veloped before, and in part perfected by Newton, before they could be ap-
plied by him to this particular discovery. In almost every great induc-
tion, many of the sciences and arts are laid under contribution. All previous
steps are presupposed in order that a single forward step may be taken.
This is true only to a very limited degree of the inductions of common life. The well,
qualified and well-trained man can with no great difficulty develop of himself much that the race
has ever gained by common sense and observation, or appropriate and master it with ease. In
many things it is true the common sense of to-day in a refined and educated community in
England or America appropriates the products which the common sense and experience of others
have matured and preserved in language, traditions, manners and institutions ; but all these are
taken up by the mind with marvellous ease and require but little of that discipline, which the
mastery of the circle of those sciences which are necessary for success, imposes upon the
discoverer. There is very little difference between the common sense of Socrates and the
common sense of the honest and independent observer of the nineteenth century, compared
with the immense disparity in the amount of positive knowledge possessed by the student of
Physics in Socrates' time and in our own.
These considerations we think sufficiently explain the differences which
exist between the inductions of science and those of common life and
§480. INDUCTIVE REASONING OR INDUCTION. 481
establish the truth that the process is substantially the same in each. The
differences are to be accounted for by the difference in the subject-matter
and not at all by any difference in the process. The identity of the pro-
cess is confirmed by the fact that common knowledge easily prepares the
way for knowledge by science, and that what would be and often is com-
mon sense, becomes scientific sagacity when it is directed to and prepared
for the study and interpretation of higher objects and relations.
§ 480. Induction in both is a process which combines an ac-
The problem of ° .5 -, . .
induction r e - curate and sharp observation of properties and a sagacious in-
mains unsolved. . n \ i ■ ' -i • -r> t i •
terpretation 01 what they indicate. .But precisely at this point
there presents itself the most interesting and vital of questions, ' On what
ground or by what evidence do we proceed from the known to the un-
known ? ' We can safely reply, it is not upon the ground of simple ex-
perience. Because all the rabbits which we have seen have been gray
we do not for this reason believe that all rabbits are of this color. It is
not simply from the constant conjunction in our experience of the attributes
or properties, that we proceed to the belief in their universal and necessary
connection in the constitution of nature. It is true that for a long time
it was believed that all swans are white, for the reason that no swan of
any other color had been observed or heard of.
"Mankind were wrong," says J. S. Mill, "in concluding that all swans are white : are we also wrong
when we conclude that all men's heads grow above their shoulders and never below, in spite of the conflict-
ing testimony of the naturalist Pliny ? We have no doubt what is the correct answer to this question.
But why are not men wrong in rejecting such a story, an din believing with assured confidence, that wherever
men exist, their heads are not beneath their shoulders ? Why is a single instance, in some cases, sufficient
for a complete induction, while in others myriads of concurring instances, without a single exception known
or presumed, go such a very little way towards establishing an universal proposition? Whoever can
answer this question knows more of the philosophy of logic than the wisest of the ancients, and has solved
the great problem of induction." Logic, B. iii. c. 3.
If we seek to answer this question, we say it is more credible or reasonable to believe that
swans should vary in color than that men should vary so greatly in form. But why is it more
credible ? Some would deem it sufficient to reply that in most of the species of animals,
individuals who are alike in every other respect differ in color, in other words, that it is the
generally observed law that color is very variable, while the general outline or type of form is
uniformly observed in every species, or at least has never admitted so monstrous a deviation,
as would be implied in having the head beneath the shoulders. This would be Mill's answer
to his own question, for in the last analysis or the ultimate solution, he makes extended
observations and broad generalizations from observed facts to be the grounds of all Induction •
nay, he makes the belief in causation itself, in the uniformities of nature, and in the necessary
truth of mathematical axioms to rest upon uniform experience. But this does not relieve the
difficulty. It in no way explains why we believe the unknown will follow the uniformly
known — why facts which have been generalized from the past must necessarily hold good in
the future. In this particular instance, the solution obviously rests upon some other ground
than that of mere observation. We assert with confidence, that it is not likely that a
species of men should be so monstrously constructed. We cannot admit the supposition for a
moment. The decisive reason is, that men so formed could not perform the functions of men
with any convenience or success ; that such a form would offend both the eye and the mind,
and would be entirely incompatible with the ideal of beauty and convenience to which wo
assume that nature would certainly conform.
31
482 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §483.
8 481. Considerations of convenience and of adaptation , and
Certain relations . „ , , , „ _
^priori must be even oi beauty and grace, then, go far toward deciding the
question. They give that weight and force to those " single
instances which in some cases are sufficient for a complete induction," and
detract all force from " the myriads of concurring instances " in other di-
rections. It must be on the ground of such relations assumed a priori to
be true of the whole universe of being and to hold good of its properties,
powers, and laws, that we proceed in all our judgments of induction.
These direct the mind in interpreting her indications. These prompt to
the questions which we ask of nature in our experiments. These suggest
the hypotheses by which we account for phenomena. These confirm all
the theories which we finally accept as true.
8 482. It will be in place next to consider, what are some
Natural to ask „ \ , «»%■•. , . , , . \ „
what truths are oi the truths or amrmations which the mmd assumes m all
its inductions, and by which it regulates its processes of
inquiry into the properties and laws of the physical universe ? We call
these in the present stage of our discussion assumptions. We do not inrply
by the use of this term that they are not valid and true, but that we must
believe in their reality and binding force in order to believe in what they
imply. They are styled assumptions to show that they are logically
necessary to the process when analyzed into its elements. We need not here
inquire whether they are all ultimate and original to the mind. It may
be that some of them may be resolved into others, or may perhaps be
shown to be the results of a process akin to induction. It is enough for
our purpose to ascertain what are some of the conceptions and relations
which are d priori to the ordinary processes of inductive inquiry. Some
of them are as follows :
§ 483. (1.) All the objects with which the mind concerns
stance and attri- itself in its inductions, are known as substances and attributes.
It is with the properties or attributes of matter and mind as
exhibited through phenomena that these inquiries are exclusively occu-
pied, whether they are known as qualities, powers, or relations. Beings
are known to the philosopher by their attributes or relations. It is by
these, that they are distinguished, classified, and named. It is the first
effort of the mind to know the attributes which are essential to every ex-
isting thing or agent.
When any new substances, agents, or elements are discovered, as oxygen*, hydrogen, alu-
minium, platinum, etc., they are known to be new by certain special properties. In induction
proper, viewed as the interpretation of indications, the indicators or indicia are always properties
or relations observed ; that indicated, or the indicata are properties inferred or believed. The
form or the color of a fruit is the indicator : its taste, its nutritious or medicinal properties
are indicated.
§485. INDUCTIVE REASONING OR INDUCTION. 483
§ 484. (2.) Induction assumes and implies the reality of the
lation?118 °f ^^ causative energy ', as necessary to explain the origination
of every begun existence, and of all occurring phenomena.
Whether it investigates the powers of nature or the laws of nature, it pro-
ceeds upon this as a necessary assumption. A power in any being or agent
is its capacity to produce an effect under appropriate conditions and accord
ing to definite laws. The power of heat to expand metals, of a burning-
body to explode gunpowder, of oxygen to corrode metals, of the soul to
know objects knowable, and to care for objects desirable ; all express and
suppose one common relation, viz., the relation of an energy that is causa-
tive of effects.
That this relation is real, is assumed and implied in all our investigations into the unknown.
This is true, if our inquiries respect the ascertainment of the unknown originator of a known
effect, and result in the discovery of such elements as oxygen or hydrogen, or of such metals
as potassium and aluminium, or of such agents as gravitation and electricity, or if we are still
on the quest, and the cause or power sought for is not yet evolved. The same is true if our
inquiries are directed to the determination of the precise conditions under which an ascer-
tained cause produces a given effect, or the more definite statement of the relations —
mathematical or otherwise — under which these conditions vary with a varying effect, as in
the determination of the laws of gravitation, of chemical affinity, or of mental perception,
association, desire, and volition.
The reality of § 485# (3>) Time and /Space, with the relations which they
and6 theVPreia' ^old *° extcnded objects and succeeding events, are also
tions- assumed in induction. So also is the possibility of the mathe-
matical constructions which are conditioned by Time and Space ; in other
words, the reality and nature of geometrical and arithmetical quantities,
their relations to one another and their varied applications to concrete ob-
jects and phenomena. These are not only assumed, they are put in the
fore-front of the whole scheme of modern inductive philosophy. The pro-
cesses of mathematical investigation are made the models for all scientific
investigation. The results are the instruments of measuring all physical
forces and of formulating all physical laws.
Gravitation was scarcely determined to be a force, till its mathematical relations were
expressed in the law that it is a force varying inversely as the square of the distance. The
laws of falling or projected bodies are expressed by means of the geometric curves in which
they move, and by the numbers which describe their velocity. The pressure and flow of
fluids are reduced to mathematical expressions. Chemical affinity is comprehended under the
wide-reaching principle that different elements unite in definite numerical proportions, which
has furnished the foundation for the modern chemical symbolization. The whole theory of
astronomy is a combination of mechanics and applied geometry. Modern researches respect-
ing light, electricity, and heat, have dared to propound the theory that all these are different
modes of motion, the rates of whose vibrations determine these subtle and marvellously potent
phenomena. They have at least demonstrated that the varying phenomena of these so-called
forces or agents are attended by motions that can be made the test of their presence and the
measure of their intensity.
Indeed, so extensively have mathematical relations been applied in modern induction, that
484 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §486.
it has been gravely urged on the one hand that spiritual phenomena and forces can in no way
come under the inquiries of science, because, forsooth, they cannot be subjected to mathe.
matical relations, or, on the other, that they can and must be subjected to these relations in
order that any science of spirit may exist: in other words, that Inductive Science, or
.•my kind of science of nature is possible so far only as the phenomena of nature can be
brought under mathematical relations, and the laws of nature can be expressed in mathe-
matical formulae.
8 486. (4.) Induction assumes that properties and laws which
That some pro- , • . ,. i '■ • "•/» r -i i •• •
perties indicate are known, indicate and signify other powers ana laws : that m
others. , . ' . . , -, . , ', \
these indications nature is honest and open in her dealings
with man ; in other words, that she is consistent with herself, or uniform in
her methods of revealing or suggesting what man is prompted to interpret
or explain. For example, we judge that a certain form or appearance in
a fruit indicates a certain flavor ; that a particular aspect of stem and
branches signifies a habifc of leaf and fruit ; that a given expression of
countenance betokens a peculiar disposition or temper in man or beast ;
that striking similarities of attributes in metals indicate a similarity in their
being oxydized; that obvious and pervading similarities in phenomena
prove that electricity in the earth is the same agent as the cause of light-
ning in the heavens ; that the same power which is pervasive enough to af-
fect bodies near the earth, is probably or at least possibly — in part or solely
— the power which holds the moon in its changing path around the earth.
It is plainly supposable that these indications were not at all worthy to be trusted ; that
the same appearance which in one fruit indicates the bitter, in another indicates the sweet ;
that the expression and tones which in one man indicate wrath, in another manifest love. In
like manner we might suppose that each class of objects, whether material or spiritual, ap-
propriated certain signs which it shared with no other, so that the signs of oxygenation, or
electric agency, in one species or sort, though uniformly observed within its own particular
sphere, were not shared by any other. In the first case, we could not interpret nature at all,
for every interpretation of the unknown by the known would be capricious, and we could
not judge of a single individual by another. In the second case, we could not extend our
judgments, though valid in one class, to any other.
The Tmiformitv ^ *s ^mP^e^ m tne honesty or, which is equivalent, in the
of the powers significance or interpretability of nature that she is also uni-
and laws of na- ° ...
ture. form, or self-consistent with herself from time to time ; or in
other words, that her laws and methods are permanent.
The same indications which she offers to-day she will use and follow to-morrow. The same
laws which she reveals as established at one time she will conform to to-morrow, so long as
the present system remains, or the reasons for sustaining it hold good. In other words, in-
duction requires that we assume that nature will be constant and uniform in her agencies,
operations, and laws ; and in her methods of making these known to the mind of the inquirer
into her secrets.
It might here be asked. Wiry do we believe this to be true?
ground of fuch Is this assumption groundless and ultimate, or is it founded
upon some reason ? One reason might occur to us, that
§ 487. INDUCTIVE REASONING OR INDUCTION. 485
otherwise we could not know or interpret nature at all. If nature were
not thus honest and uniform, the human mind could have no knowledge
except of individual things, or the knowledge acquired to-day could not
be relied on for to-morrow, as in the meanwhile the operations and indi-
cations of nature might both be changed.
But it might still be replied, What necessity is there that we know and generalize ? or
more broadly, By what right do we presume that the objective universe is so constructed that
the human mind may know it? We say, 'If it were not so, it would not be adapted to the
mind. The mind would feel impulses and use activities which would find no corresponding
objects. It would be impelled to modes of action in generalizing, interpreting, in explaining
and forecasting, to which there would be no corresponding realities. It would find itself per-
petually at fault, in perpetual disappointment and bewilderment. This is not supposable, such
a constant failure of adaptation between the objective in nature and the subjective in the soul.'
If this answer is appropriate or valid, it suggests another assumption, viz. :
§ 487. (5.) Nature adapts objects and powers to certain ends.
rules Mature? In other words, physical forces are regulated and controlled
by design. The application already made shows that this
principle is assumed. It will be still more clearly manifest from the fol-
lowing examples. When Copernicus proposed to himself to try whether,
on the supposition of the earth's motion, it was possible to find a better ex-
planation of the revolutions of the celestial orbs than those currently
received from the ancients, we ask what he would conceive to be a better
explanation, and find an answer to our own question, in the reasons which led
him to prefer his own. These reasons were, that his theory secured greater
simplicity and symmetry to the mechanism of the heavens, and explained
the apparent positions and motions of the heavenly bodies by a neater, a
more easily conceived, a more symmetrical construction, than the older
theory furnished. But why is a neater and more symmetrical theory to
be preferred ? Because it is better adapted, to satisfy the mind of man, —
because this mind thus reflects, were I to provide for the motions and
appearances of the heavenly bodies, with given materials, viz., force, mo-
tion, etc., I should hold and move these bodies by the simplest possible
arrangement of motions, and the most economical disposition of forces.
Newton, reflecting on the force of gravity, inquires within himself, ' Why may not the
force which extends beyond the tops of the highest mountains also extend as far as the
moon, and why may she not be retained in her orbit thereby ? ' His own question implied
the answer : ' if this single force, known to exist, would explain the movements of the solar
system, it is more rational to believe that this is the actual force than to adopt any other
explanation.' This involves the assumption of a wise adaptation to the designed effects of the
force or forces conceived to be at command. It is by a reference to the same assumption
that we explain the general laws of philosophizing which Newton has laid down. The rule
that real and sufficient causes of phenomena are to be taken to explain phenomena, whether it
is or is not interpreted as coming under the more general law of parsimony, is only an enun-
ciation of the truth that if an element, or force, already known to exist, can be employed to
evolve, produce, or accomplish an effect, no new force will be provided or is to be supposed.
486 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §489.
If we ask upon what this assumption rests, we reply, that any other arrangement would bf
had economy — an unwise adaptation of means to ends.
Thus underlying the entire structure of the inductive method,
Sapta§on.ea °f we ^n^ tne assumption of a twofold adaptation in nature ;
first, of the several parts or forces to one another, and second,
of the indications of nature to the mind that interprets them. But if we
assume that nature thus adapts her forces to ends and also that the human
mind is competent to discern these ends and to interpret nature by her
skill and success in wisely accomplishing them, we must assume —
8 488. (6.) That the human intellect in induction, -judges the
Similarity of the ° V ' ,, ., . „ _ «■.,.---■„.
human and di- structure and adaptations of nature by referring to what it
vine intellect. ... . ,T
would itself consider to be rational and wise. In other
words, induction assumes that the rational methods of the divine and hu-
man intellect are similar, and that the human intellect is therefore capable
of judging of the principles and aims by which the universe was con-
structed and its laws can be known. More briefly expressed, induction is
only possible on the assumption that the intellect of man is a reflex of the
Divine Intellect ; or that man is made in the image of God.
This will be made more apparent, if we consider more fully the rules of inductive inquiry,
and the relation of experiment to theory.
§ 489. The so-called rules or methods of induction are three :
o?fndurcetionU]es ^ne metnoa* 0I> agreement, the method of difference, and the
method of concomitant variations. They are briefly stated
as follows : (1.) If in all cases of an effect or phenomenon, one condition is
uniformly present, that is the cause or includes the cause of such a phenom-
enon or effect. (2.) If, in any instance in which an effect does occur,
one single condition is present, which is uniformly absent whenever such
effect does not occur, this constantly present or absent condition is
presumed to be its cause. (3.) If, whenever an effect or phenomenon is
marked with peculiar energy, any condition varies with proportional
intensity, this varying condition is the cause of such an effect.
Properly conceived, these are rules for testing or proving
These are rules inductions, or rules for experiment : they cast no li^ht upon
lor experiment. ' .,.,.,. .
that which is most essential in the inductive process. An
experiment is a nice analysis or observation, made for an express design.
Analysis, i. e., discriminating attention, is the condition of all observation
of qualities and causes. It begins with sensible perception, and without
it, generalization and classification are impossible. The analysis used in
induction differs from this only in being directed to those properties
and laws which are less obvious, and often guides in a special search
for those which the senses cannot directly detect, but which the mind
divines.
§491. INDUCTIVE SEASONING OE INDUCTION. 48*
The rules for this search are not different in fact from those which the sim
R 1 t" n of the e P*er inductions °f common sense and of common life require and employ,
rules to common It is only because the relations upon which they are employed are less obvious,
and the discriminations are more difficult, that these rules need to be dis«
tinctly considered and formally applied, and that the formal recognition oi
,hem by Bacon and Newton contributed so largely to the advance of modern science.
They are methods of experiment ; i. e., as already explained, of analysis, with
They presup- the design of testing a theory, hypothesis, or suggestion. These, from the
esff or hsugges" nature of tne case> must S° before the trial. In the majority of instances the
tion. question must be put before the answer is elicited. The experimenter
upon nature must come to her with his question formed and the answer
anticipated, before he applies the methods of agreement and difference. Lord Bacon says
abundantly that it is the prudens qucestio, or the wisely-suggested question, which directs the
experiment to an anticipated result, and which very often predicts the result before it is
actually established or proved.
§ 490. If now, the question suggests and guides the experi-
the hypothesis ment, and if the anticipation predicts the fulfilment, we ask,
or prudens _^ 7 x x 7 '
quxstio. What suggests the question? What are the grounds on
which, or the methods by which the mind forms its anticipations ? "When,
for example, Newton anticipated in thought the solution of the motions
of the solar system by gravity, or Davy anticipated that he could bring
out from the brown and earthy potash the brilliant potassium, what were
the grounds upon which and the rules after which their minds proceeded ?
The question may be more generally stated : What are the conditions of
successful invention and discovery f
To this question many would reply, ' No answer can be given. The power
to read the secrets of nature is a gift of nature. To think of the pertinent
Some say no an- . ,,.. . . <...
swer can be giv- question, to apply the happy and decisive experiment, is a matter of indi-
vidual sagacity, with which one person is more richly endowed than an-
other, and the secret reasons or processes of which can neither be imparted
nor explained. We know that it can be improved by exercise; that it can be formed
and^developed into tact and skill; but what are the methods by which exercise can form or
maxure it, is quite beyond the reach or power of analysis to trace out or describe.' There is
some truth in this view, though not to the full extent of this representation. Analysis can at
least separate and describe the' essential elements of the process, and can so far describe the
conditions of successful achievement.
„, . 8491.(1.) The first condition is, that the attention be directed
The attention o V '
must be familiar to the class of obi ects and powers already known, which
with the objects. / ^ \ mi t
are to indicate and suggest the unknown. JLne discoveries
of science are founded upon powers and relations which are overlooked
by the great majority even of cultivated men. The sagacity which we
seek to explain, is always exercised in respect to that subject-matter to
which the discoverer has given special attention, and with the peculiari-
ties of which he has become specially familiar. The chemical discoverei
is a chemist. The discoverer in physics is a student of physics. As we
have observed already, Franklin had become familiarly acquainted with
iS8 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 493.
electricity and lightning by long-continued attention to the phenomena
of both before he thought of their identity. It was not till Newton had
meditated long and frequently on the forces of the universe, that he was
in a condition in which it was possible for him to anticipate the theory
of universal gravitation. Davy must, of necessity, he familiar with all
the chemical facts already ascertained, in order to conjecture the unknown
base of potash. It is plain, that if the philosopher is to interpret indica-
tions, he must first observe and attend to them.
It is almost superfluous to suggest that men differ in the original power and the acquired
habits of attentive observation. These differences are apparent in respect to objects of univer-
sal interest and of common life. They are more conspicuous in regard to the mastery over
the less familiar and less obvious objects with which science has to do. As attention and
consequent familiarity are or are not attained, so is there present or absent the first condition
of success.
§ 492. (2.) The objects must not only be attended to, but
The relations of ° v ' J , , -»-i ' i
objects must be also their relations. The one involves the other. I or the
attended to. . _, „ ..
purposes 01 knowledge and especially oi science relations
are all-important. The relations most important to science are those
of likeness or unlikeness leading to classification, the relations of num-
ber and magnitude which are the conditions of mensuration, the rela-
tions of causation and design which are employed in reasoning. These
must be attended to, closely observed and familiarly considered.
In respect to the power of apprehending relations with facility and success, men differ
greatly. In simple judgments of comparison one man discerns similar and dissimilar quali-
ties, when another can discern neither likeness nor difference. Likenesses and unlikenesses
of form are likewise detected by the quick eye of one man which can scarcely be made
apparent to the slower and less acute observation of another. To whatever causes these
differences of power may be ascribed, whether to a finer sensuous organization, or a more
refined and discerning spiritual nature, the fact cannot be doubted that they exist. In dis-
criminating causes and effects, in suggesting designs and ends, there are surprising differences
in the acuteness, the quickness, and the comprehensiveness of the powers of different men.
These are, in part to be ascribed to training and opportunities, in part to the interest or
necessity which enforces the application and the energetic action of the powers, and, in part, to
original aptitudes and capacities. It is not surprising that for observing those less obvious
relations with which science is concerned, there should be still wider differences of capacity,
both original and acquired, and that there should follow as a consequence most obvious differ-
ences in different persons in the familiarity attained with these special relations.
Both ob" cts and § ^3# (3-) ^ne nex* condition of success is an acquired
relations must familiarity with the relations which exist between signs and
the mind. things signified within any special sphere of observation or
scientific inquiry. The florist marks indications in flowers which are un-
meaning to other persons, and learns to connect them with what they
indicate. The cultivator of fruits has the same experience with fruits.
The sportsman alone learns by experience to understand the significance of
certain actions of his game. The keen and discerning eye in every depart-
§ 494. INDUCTIVE REASONING OR INDUCTION. 48S
raent is trained by what it is accustomed to, and gains some definite im-
pressions in respect to the methods of nature in accomplishing her objects
and in indicating her powers and laws. The devotee of any special sci
ence soon gains a familiarity with the movements of nature within his
own special sphere. He enters, so to speak, into her spirit.
The literal import of this language is as follows : The physicist and chemist, the botanist
and geologist, become by degrees impressed with the conviction that some properties are fai
more prevalent than others ; that they are very often present and manifest ; that certain com
binations of elements and agencies are, so to speak, favorites with nature. Certain powers are
very limited in their application, and of course are manifest in a small number of phenomena.
Others show themselves in a great variety of existences, and explain a vast number of phe-
nomena. We need only compare gravity with its1 laws as universally applicable to all material
things, and the law by which a certain compound of oxygen and hydrogen becomes explosive.
Just as far as discovery or experience proceed, just so far do they mark off certain powers and
laws as more, and others as less extensive. This is the simple result of experience often re-
peated in respect to a sufficient variety of cases ; this experience matures into familiarity with
what may be called the preferences, or favorite methods, according to which nature conducts
her processes and manifests her powers
It is obvious that in respect to the power of attaining familiarity of acquaintance with this
class of relations by experience or observation, there is likely to be greater variety than
in respect to acuteness of observation, energy of attention, or readiness of comparison. Men
differ very greatly in respect to the insight which they gain into relations of this sort. The
results are not of a nature to be expressed in language. There is no common vehicle for giving
and imparting impressions of this kind. Hence greater original or acquired power to observe
such relations, is esteemed more of an individual possession. It is regarded as a gift, a
secret, an inspiration, an incommunicable and inexplicable attainment.
The construe- § 494. (4.) The next step towards discovery is the use of
nnfst'beempioj? tne constructive imagination. All the steps previously con-
ed- sidered are steps or acts of experience. They are employed
upon the facts already established by observation or tested by experiment.
The act now considered is an act of mental construction or combination. It
relates to facts as supposed, or conceived to be possible or probable by
the mind% The objects, relations, and methods of nature being all mastered
by quick and attentive observation, must be marshalled by the memory
and placed at the service of the imagination to re-arrange and re-combine.
Let a complex substance be presented for that analysis in thought which precedes the test
of experiment : or let some unexplained phenomenon be proposed to be accounted for. The
first effort is to bring up in the imagination every known element or agent, and to ask which
is more likely to be the one which we require. Or if none that are known will meet the
exigency, what unknown element or agent — and acting by what laws — may be supposed to
solve the problem.
To be able to answer these questions the memory must be quick to suggest all
The memory the powers and agents that are known in all the relations which we have con-
cious and ready, sidered. There is a vast difference in men in respect to the range and sweep
and readiness of the memory when the memory is called on to give up ita
treasures ; as we have had occasion to notice. But the presence or absence of a single essen-
tial fact may determine the question whether a discovery shall or shall not be made. The
490 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §494.
failure to recall one single thought which might have been suggested, one actual combination of
cause and effect or sign and thing signified, one more or less extensive and favorite agency
or law of nature, may withhold from the judgment the very material which is essential to a
sagacious conjecture.
To a successful issue it is not merely, perhaps not chiefly, essential that the mind be able
to judge aright upon facts and data presented. It must have the capacity to think of them
and to present them when they are wanted. Hence the greatest importance to the skilful
inventor or the sagacious discoverer, of ready and comprehensive associations, or what is
more usually termed a lively and productive fancy.
\ q u i c k and Sagacity in discovery may be as much dependent upon
recall and^on- tne Power quickly to recall one's knowledge or observations
struct. Accident. m fae past as upon an v other endowment or acquired power.
The man of ready suggestions, the man fertile in expedients, the man
quick in devices, is, — other things being equal, — the man who is saga-
cious and skilful in discovery and experiment.
It is not enough, however, that the memory suggests all that she has
gathered, unless the imagination reconstructs and recombines in relations
as yet untried and unknown. Here is the widest room for individual
activity. The imagination takes all the materials at its command, all the
powers and agents which are known to exist, with their laws and rela-
tions, and connects them with one another and with all known effects and
phenomena in new methods. It makes these combinations for one sole
end, not to amuse or entertain, not to explain or illustrate, not to con-
vince, instruct, or to persuade, but simply to conjecture or devise what
is best adapted to meet the exigency.
What is called accident, too, combines with memory at times to deter-
mine a great discovery in science, or a grand invention in the arts. The
Marquis of Worcester happens to see the rising and falling of the cover
of a teakettle, and forthwith he commences a course of speculation in re-
spect to the laws of the agent which furnished the force ; and thus sets in
motion the course of discovery which has given to science and art
steam power with all its applications.
Goodyear, the sagacious and persevering investigator into the properties and uses of
caoutchouc or India-rubber, had long inquired after some agent in nature which would
remove from the substance in question its special sensibility to cold and heat, and make it in
effect a new material. He discovered this long-desired agent in the most casual way.
*' In one of those animated conversations so habitual to him, in reference to his experiments,
a piece of India-rubber combined with sulphur, which he held in his hand as the text of all
his discourses, was by a violent gesture thrown into a burning stove near which he was stand-
ing. When taken out, after having been subjected to a high degree of heat, he saw — what it
may be safely affirmed woidd have escaped the notice of all others — that a complete transforma-
tion had taken place, and that an entirely new product, since so felicitously termed ' new
metal ' was the consequence." Decision of the U. 8. Commissioner of Patents.
But thousands and tens of thousands of men had observed the same phenomenon which
attracted the attention and excited the inquiries of the Marquis of Worcester. His previous
knowledge of science and his familiar acquaintance with scientific relations alone enabled him
§ 495. INDUCTIVE SEASONING OK INDUCTION. 491
to turn this knowledge to a use of discovery. The promptness and range with which the
associative faculty avails itself of such an incident decide the question whether it shall be
received as a productive seed or whether it shall fall upon the barren rock or the parched
sand. The eye of Goodyear was quickened by the watching and waiting of years to that
sagacity which was able to see in the piece of refuse rubber casually discharged from the fire,
an answer to the question with which his mind had so long been burdened.
The curiosity of the investigator is also a most important
ity must bepre- condition of failure or success, ibr it determines whether or
not the intellect shall be effectively applied to the objects
and relations which alone prepare the way for new knowledge. Perse-
verance and tenacity hold the attention and the memory to the question
which may have been started ; they task the memory to give up all
its past acquisitions.
The peculiarities of character and of tastes which fit a man to be a successful investigator,
act through the intellect, by giving it energy of action, and range of appropriate objects.
The best stored and readiest memory can only furnish the materials upon which the mind is to
act in judgment. The constructive imagination can only combine these materials after every
conceivable method which promises aid or light in discovery. The most important step yet
remains, and that is the act of framing an hypothesis, of constructing a theory, or of devising
the question which may be most wisely addressed to nature.
a wise judg- §495. (5.) This leads us to the judgments formed and pref-
^fd^Tetwetn' erences given in respect to the various possible suppositions
hypotheses. which the imagination suggests or devises. The conditions
previously described being all fulfilled, the materials being all provided
and present, i. e., all the like and unlike substances and phenomena, and
all the powers, properties and laws that could possibly be resorted to for
the analysis or explication being marshalled by and before the imagi-
nation ; the reason then judges which power or agency of all gives the most
satisfactory solution and is most probably true.
But by what standard does it judge ? What are the
By what stand- groun(js of satisfaction and the tests of probability? The
history of Induction shows that these differ in different
cases. Sometimes the known existence of some agent or law or its
very extensive prevalence in the economy of nature is the deciding cir-
cumstance in its favor. We always assume that nature works the most
diverse effects by the fewest possible elements or forces. Sometimes it is
what is loosely termed analogy.
"We ask how close or near is the resemblance to the substance or event in hand. But
likeness and unlikeness pertain to very different qualities and relations ; sometimes to those
which affect the senses immediately, as the eye and the touch, sometimes to those which are
more remote from direct apprehension, as to mechanical or chemical effects or mathematical
relations. Which analogies shall be decisive in such cases is determined by the importance at.
tached to each in the general or the special economy of nature, or by what is called the con
gruity with her methods in similar departments.
492 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §49?
§ 496. In the application of these and of similar criteria the
peaiftoiSif P" mte^ect appeals, so to speak, to itself. The interpreter of
nature continually asks himself thus : Given, certain ele-
ments, powers, and laws, how should I indicate them ? or how should I
apply them ? Having followed certain methods of employing or in
dicating them in other substances and phenomena, how should I be most
consistent with myself in producing or manifesting other agents and
events ? Or, in the reverse order : Given, certain ends, effects, and phenom-
ena, which of the known forces at command would a rational being em-
ploy for this or that object, if he aimed at an orderly and intelligible, or a
beautiful universe ? Or, if no one of the forces known is adequate to explain
the effects or phenomena, what unknown force or element is required to
account for them, so as best to fulfil their objects, and what must be the
properties and what the laws of such an agent ?
The language so often used, that man is the interpreter of nature, that nature has her methods,
her economies, and her favorite ways, implies that in all these judgments, there is a belief in
the constructive or arranging processes of another mind. Even those who insist that we may
not assume that there are ends or designs to be interpreted, constantly employ such language.
But all inductive philosophers do assume this in their theories, their surmises, and anticipa-
tions; in every prudens gueestio which they propound. The more gifted acknowledge it
distinctly, and assert that they commune with the spirit of nature, and that nature whispers
to them often of her secrets.
§497. When Kepler exclaims, " OGodf I think thy thoughts
Kepler's saying, after thee f " — when Agassiz catches and repeats the same
sentiment, in asserting that all just and thorough classifica-
tion is but an interpretation of the thoughts of the Creator ', they simply
express in definite language the grand assumption on which every saga-
cious anticipation or happy theory is founded, viz., that the rational
methods of the Divine and human intellect must be the same. This, of
course, includes the assumption, without which the principles, maxims,
and methods of the inductive philosophy have no meaning and no foun-
dation, viz., that the universe of matter and mind has its ground and
explanation in an intelligent originator. In other words, Induction
rests upon the assumption, as it demands for its ground, that a personal
or thinking Deity exists.
It follows that the most sucessful theorist and the most sagacious questioner of
Who is the most nature is the man who takes the wisest views of her indication by appropriate
pretcrof?nature? signs, of her economy in the use of given forces, and of her adaptation to the
ends of harmony, beauty, and perhaps of beneficence ; and who has been most
accustomed to reflect upon the actual methods by which these various workings of nature are
accomplished in varying cases, as in mechanical effects, chemical combinations, vital forces,
and spiritual endowments. He is the wisest interpreter of nature, who through nature has
entered most intimately into the thoughts of God.
§499. INDUCTIVE SEASONING OR INDUCTION. 493
§ 498. (6.) To success in induction, the power of sure
The capacity of and rea<%y deduction is also essential. The real nature and
ready deduction. «/
reach of any theory which is suggested by the memory or
constructed by the imagination, cannot be understood until the most im-
portant consequences and applications are derived from it in the form of
conclusions. The law of gravitation was no sooner suggested to the
imagination of Newton, in the question, l why not,' and sanctioned by the
approving answer, ' it is very probably true / ' than the additional thought,
' if so, what follows,' put him upon the act of deduction.
Whatever may be suggested or approved, whether it be the further extension of a power
already known to exist, or the existence of an unknown agent, or the prevalence or the more
exact determination of a new law, the deduction of the consequences that would follow is
often indispensable to enable the mind to judge of the probable truth of the proposition
which the mind entertains, and always to prepare the mind to compare it with actual fact.
For it is obvious that not only the supposition itself, but the consequences which follow, must
both square with the reality of thiDgs in order that the truth of the theory may in fact be
established.
The power of wide -reaching, sure and rapid deduction, is an important element in the
qualifications of the successful discoverer. A severe training in the discipline of the Syllogistic
Logic, and the linked demonstrations of Geometry, as also in the subtle calculations of
Numbers, is an admirable if not an essential preparation for success in discovery.
The experiment § 499# C7*) ^ast °^ a^ comes tne experiment, which tests the
its place and theory, however sagaciously it may have been conjectured ;
importance. "' ° •> J "
which answers the question, however ingeniously it may
have been proposed. Though we must assume that the methods of the
divine and the human intellect are the same, yet we must concede that
the elements and powers, the laws and methods of the universe, i. e., the
thoughts of the Creator, are, as yet, known to the created intellect only
to a limited extent.
We may presume that those which are most obtrusive, perhaps that those which are the
most general have been mastered by modern science, and yet must concede that we have not
penetrated all the secrets of nature. Nor are we qualified to pronounce d priori upon what
is true or false without submitting our judgment to the test of experiment. Even of the facts
which have been observed and known we are not always sure that we have considered all in
all their relations at the moment when our theory was constructed. We bring the judgments
founded upon these limited data to the revisal of the Infinite Mind as he is manifested
through his works. We question nature whether our thoughts correspond with her own.
We revise and correct the answers which we have devised by the decided responses which
our experiments elicit.
Experiment, as has been already defined, is another name for observation
Relation of ex- employed with a definite design. The design is usually to try or test whether
observation. our theory or suggestion is made good. The special rules or methods of
experiment are, as has already been stated, no other than rules for a nicer and
more careful observation than we ordinarily employ for the uses of common life. They hold
the same relation to this observation which the employment of instruments and apparatus
does to the use of the unaided and " unarmed " senses. They inculcate the necessity of look
494 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §500.
ing narrowly at every phenomenon, of measuring the force of every energy, of discriminating
every shade of difference, and of separating carefully every element.
While, then, on the one hand, man, in constructing his wise question-
ings and in framing his theories, may claim a likeness to God ; in submitting
his theories to the task of experiment, he concedes his inferiority. Indeed,
every act of experiment is a confession of human limitations. Rightly
conceived, it is an act of reverent worship.
8 500. It was for giving prominence to this part of the in-
Lord Bacon's ° . , T -• t» ■. •-.,,.,
eminent servi- ductive process that .Lord .Bacon has received such high and
merited honor as the expounder of the inductive method. It
was because he insisted upon the necessity of a constant and close observa-
tion of the facts of nature, and enjoined the duty of careful and reiterated
experiments, as well as prescribed the rules and methods for prosecuting
the same, that he was called the Father of Experimental Philosophy.
He did not overlook nor undervalue the other elements of the process which we have
noticed. He recognized them more or less distinctly. There was no special need that they
should be enforced in his own time. The Philosophy of the Schools paid sufficient homage to
hypothesis, however much it may have failed to understand its nature or to analyze its
processes. But experiments upon nature had not been understood, nor had it entered fully
into the minds of men to inquire what were the rules for conducting them wisely and with
success. It certainly had not at all entered into their thoughts to imagine or anticipate how
much there was to be learned by this method, how vast a store of secrets was concealed for
man's exploration, nor how the discovery of one property and law was to prepare the way for
the discovery of another.
The anticipation of what was in store for man, through the wise applica-
tion of the methods of experiment ; and the confident and eloquent assertion
of the splendid consequences which were sure to follow, constitute Bacon's
special claim to distinction, and mark him pre-eminently as one of the most
gifted benefactors of his race, and one of the greatest men of any period.
CHAPTER IX.
SCIENTIFIC AEEANGEMENT. — THE SYSTEM.
We have already considered the several processes of objective or concrete thinking, and the
products which they evolve. In other words, we have examined the processes which are
usually recognized as being involved in the formation and the application of the concept
or notion, viz., analysis ; generalization ; classification ; judgment, in the two forms of
definition and division ; and reasoning, by deduction and induction — giving us, as their
products, the concept ; the class ; the proposition ; the argument ; and the principle or
law. It remains for us to consider, briefly, the combination of these several processes in
a final result or product. The process may be called scientific arrangement, and the prod.
§504, SCIENTIFIC ARRANGEMENT. THE SYSTEM. 495
uct, the system. Most of the principles essential to this exposition have been so fully
vindicated and illustrated in the preceding chapters, that we need only re-state them in
this in brief propositions.
8 501. Scientific arrangement or method may be defined in
f he simplest ex- , , . _ . _ . '. , m
ample of a sys- general, as the gathering 01 individual objects into a syn-
thetic whole, by any one of the analyses and generalizations of
thought. When any number of such objects are united into such a whole,
that whole may, in a certain sense, be called a system.
Thus, even the smallest number of individual objects, when grouped as one product bj
being included under a single notion, may, in a certain sense, be said to be arranged into
a system.
This is not, however, the usual signification of the term. We employ it in this sense
simply to call attention to the truth, that the process of classification is the beginning of
systemization. This is the first condition or step of the synthetic process which terminates in
the system proper.
8 502. Inasmuch as every concept has the two relations of
A notion ap- ....
plied in its con- extent or content either dormant or developed, that arrange-
ment of individual objects in these two directions which
follows from the application to them of both the content and the extent
of a notion is more properly a system.
When several notions of a more or less comprehensive content, or a more or less widely
applicable extent, are used to define and divide the individual objects to which they apply,
these objects are brought into a system ; or the mind is said to take a systematic view of their
several properties, and to class them as mutually related to one another. Their properties
are seen to be more or less extensively the same ; the classes in which they are grouped or
gathered are said to be higher or lower, and the several classes are arranged into a hierarchy or
a subordinated whole.
Inasmuch, also, as every concept results from, represents, and may be
expanded into, its proposition; the propositions of content and extent
express, when properly arranged, the systematic arrangement or method
of the objects to which these propositions can be applied.
Notions which § 503* Every concept, as well as every proposition that
Satpropeerrties respectively defines and divides and thus arranges and
or laws. subordinates the objects to which each belong, indicates or
suggests some property or power or law of the beings to which they are
applied. Every name of a thing indicates that it belongs to some perma-
nent class, and is possessed of properties that are fixed in the designs,
and are perpetuated by the laws of nature. The most important proposi-
tions of definition and division simply expand and apply these permanent
properties and laws.
when establish- § 504« The less obvious but more important of these
ana^ppued^in properties and laws are those which are discovered by indue-
deduction. tion, applied in deduction, and verified by experiment
and observation after the methods and on the grounds which have been
496 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 507
explained. When so discovered, and applied, and established, they are
used to explain or account for the less obvious events and phenomena in
the universe of matter and of spirit. But the properties, principles, and
laws which are thus inferred in induction, applied by deduction, and
verified by tests of fact, — as they are respectively established, — serve to
define and divide the beings and events which they concern, by notions
that are constituted of more refined elements, and that divide beings into
more comprehensive and significant classes. The principles on which
scientific systems are founded, are more profound and wide-reaching thaD
those which direct the classifications of common life.
8 505. Scientific arrangement and systemization, — the con-
Properties which. u -_._._
explain and pre- cepts and terms, — are applied with preeminent propriety to
diet phenomena. . x . _, . . xx . . " . _ _ _ r r J
the methodical arrangement which is founded and effected
by these more recondite properties and more extensive laws. Such prop-
erties and laws are said preeminently to explain the operations of nature,
and to enable man to predict phenomena, as well as to control events and
results by art or skill.
scientific system § 506- Scientific method or system may be applied to a
widely °aPpi£- narrower or wider range of beings or events, and may be
ble- founded on generalizations which are narrower and wider, or
on inductions which are more or less profound. They may include a single
kingdom of organic or inorganic existences, or may embrace all material
things. They may define and arrange these according to the more obvious
properties and laws which are open to common observation, or may
employ those properties which appear to hasty observation to be very
remote, and which are reached only by the most sagacious conjectures,
and the most skilful experiments. They may include the domain of
spirit only, or extend to the kingdoms of both matter and spirit, and
arrange the two domains by the properties and laws which can be estab-
lished as common to the two.
§ 507. Systematic arrangement and scientific method are
straet concepts freely applied to abstracta, or those artificial products which
are the creations of the human intellect ; to those concepts
which law, ethics, theology, politics, and political economy familiarly
employ, as well as to those abstract forms and rules which grammar, logic,
and the mathematics prescribe. But a system of terms, definitions, rules,
and principles, when so applied, is always justified and defined by a refer-
ence to the concrete examples and existing beings, from which the
concepts are derived, and by which the principles are tested.
The attempt has been made to arrange in systematic order and by a scientific method, the
ultimate relations of knowledge itself; to subject to the subordination of higher and lower,
of dependence and development, the original categories and first principles which make
knowledge itself to be possible. Whether such an application of the desire for scientific
method is possible, we are not yet in a condition to decide. We must reserve the answer to
this question for our later researches.
§508. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 487
PART FOURTH.
INTUITION AND INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE.
CHAPTER I.
THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED.
Hating finished, in Fart III., the analysis of the processes and products of thought, we
proceed to consider the intuitions or original relations which these processes assume to
be real and make conspicuous in all their products. These are not peculiar to thought,
but are essential to all knowledge whatsoever. They are, however, made obvious and
prominent in the thought-processes. They are forced upon our notice by the analysis
of these processes, and thus challenge our scrutiny. Inasmuch, too, as they must be general-
ized from all our intellectual activities, the consideration of them is properly deferred till
they demand our attention. In conducting these inquiries we enter upon the critical
stage of our investigations, at which the mind, having studied its operations in the way
of scientific reflection, turns in upon itself, and inquires whether the relations which
its scientific study assumes, are themselves trustworthy ? whether, in other words, the
human intellect may confine in the very operations which it is impelled to perform ?
This analysis is difficult, but full of excitement to all those who are fascinated with the
inquiries that have to do with the mysteries of their being, and the grounds and limits
of human knowledge.
Our first inquiries respect the general relations -of these intuitions, and the methods
by which they can be ascertained, etc., etc., as introductory to the consideration of them
in detail.
§ 508. Our analysis of the process of induction has shown
Certain assnrap- ...... , . ., ,.\ ■• „
tions implied in us that it involves several assumptions, viz. : the reality oi
the distinction of substance and attribute ; of the causative
relation ; of time and space, and the relations they . involve ; of unifor-
mity in the indications and operations of nature ; and of the adaptation
of the beings and powers of nature to certain ends. § § 482-488. Upon
these assumptions the entire process of induction rests, and upon their
validity is founded its trustworthiness.
We have seen, also, that all the other processes of knowledge involve or
Also in the other imply more or fewer of these same assumptions. In sense-perception, we
processes oi
knowledge. assume the reality of space and time, and the relations of material objects
to space ; and in consciousness, some relation of the psychical acts and affections
to time and to the ego. In the varied forms of representative or reproduced knowledge, the
reality of time is assumed as the condition of the relation of the representing to the repre-
sented object ; whether the object is exactly transcribed or copied from the original, or
whether it is varied by a creative process. In the various processes of thought or intelli-
32
498 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 509.
gence, these same assumptions are implied. Without them, as we have seen, generalization,
judgment, and reasoning would be impossible.
The very conception and definition of knowledge imply the same. Knowledge
Also in the defi- has been defined as the apprehension of being and its relations (§§ 48, 49).
cdge.n ° °W " The possibility and the validity of the process suppose the reality of certain
beings, and the truth of certain relations. It implies, also, that there are
certain relations to be known which are original, and the truth and validity of which must be
assumed as the groundwork or foundation of all our knowledge. We may analyze what is
complex, in both being and its relations, into what is simple. What is less, may be resolved
into what is more general ; but the relations which cannot be resolved into others, must be
received as original axioms or assumptions.
§ 509. What these assumptions are, we are impelled to con-
the critical stage sider and inquire. Thus far we have inquired what are the
processes and products of knowledge, when the power to
know is employed upon its appropriate conditions or objects in the form
of direct and objective activity. We are now to turn the power in
upon itself; to inquire what are the relations which it intuitively
discerns, and necessarily assumes. We enter upon the last and highest
stage of our inquiries — which is properly called the critical or the specula-
tive. We proceed to examine the power of knowledge, not for the
purpose of ascertaining what it can perform or produce, but what its
processes involve and assume, and to ask whether what are assumed may be
trusted in themselves and in their applications. ,
This critical analysis of the power of knowledge is the last and
highest form of the mind's activity, because it supposes the complete
development and discipline of all the other powers. The mind must be
trained to analyze every thing besides, before it can successfully analyze
the processes and products of its own power to know. It must be able
to explain every thing besides, before it can analyze and explain its own
acts and products.
The special objects of the mind's knowledge in these critical or
speculative inquiries, are the relations which the mind must assume in all
its knowing. Their special and distinguishing features when thus general-
ized, .are their necessity, originality, and universal applicability to all its
knowing. (§ 529.)
We turn the Ifc is sometimes said that, in these inquiries, we turn the power of thought
power of thought back upon itself, to ascertain and prove its assumptions and its laws. This
th? intellectual is not technically true, if, by the power of thought, we mean only that higher
processes. capacity of the intellect which forms and applies general notions or con-
cepts. More exactly we say, we turn the power of thought to the analysis and explanation
of the power of knowledge in all its modes of action, by showing the ultimate or the most
generic objects which it apprehends, and the ultimate relations or principles which it assumes
as original and true. Of these it gives as complete a philosophical explanation as is possible.
It inquires in respect to the conditions of their production ; the order of their development
ind growth ; their relation to the concrete processes and products of the intellect, and, indeed,
§ 511. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMEKATED. 499
of the whole soul ; their mutual relation to one another ; and, last of all, their trustworthiness
as grounds of certainty and as criteria of truth.
Hence the critical examination of the power to know, involves a critical examination of
ihe grounds and the trustworthiness of all knowledge and belief. It shows us that the rela-
tions or principles which we receive and trust as axioms in one kind of knowledge, are to be
trusted in another. It shows us, moreover, that we are bound to believe and follow them
wherever they lead us, because we cannot know any thing without them. It sets aside
objections that are derived from the denial of these truths by showing that they are not onh
fundamental, but are always applicable. It disarms skepticism of every kind, whether it be
philosophical, ethical, or theological, by showing that the relations which the human mind must
apply in its lower knowledge, it cannot refuse to trust in their higher applications.
Relation of these § 510. These inquiries conduct us from the field of psychology
aph^aMn^t toward and into the fields of both logic and metaphysics. It
tigations. js not practically easy to draw the lines which determine the
boundaries of each. It is certain that this analysis is, to a certain extent,
appropriate to psychology, and that both logic and metaphysics are incom-
plete without the results which this psychological analysis gives.
Strictly speaking, we should say that, in psychology we are required
to explain how we reach and how we use these cognitions, while in logic
and metaphysics we are concerned with what they are in their definitions
and relations to one another, and to all our knowledge. Inasmuch,
however, as it is impossible to separate the analysis of a process from an
analysis of its product, the psychological will often encroach upon the
logical and metaphysical sphere.
It is certain beyond question, that, at a certain stage of the mind's development, these
relations, in point of fact, become distinctly developed as separate products and objects of
knowledge. Their origin must be accounted for. Their nature needs to be analyzed and
explained. Their relation to the other processes and results which the mind performs and
attains, must necessarily be unfolded, in order to attain a complete explanation of the powers,
functions, and products of the intellect.
we do not learn § 511. These ultimate facts and relations are not gained by
tnemUorSary the processes that distinguish the faculties of the intellect
cesses* an pr°" which we have thus far considered. Their truth and validity
are not apprehended by^ but they are involved in these processes. They
are not perceived by sense-perception, nor felt by consciousness ; they
are neither reproduced in memory, nor represented or created by the
phantasy; they are not generalized by the power to classify and name;
they are neither proved by deduction, nor inferred by induction. They are
developed and brought to view in connection with these processes, and are
assumed in them all.
That they have been referred to a special and separate
referredaveto a faculty or faculties is a fact notorious in the history of
separa e acu ty. pSyCh0i0gy an(j philosophy. This separate faculty or source
of this peculiar knowledge has been designated by various appellations.
500 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. . § 512.
as the reason, common sense, judgment, intuition, faith, the intelligence, the
regulative faculty, the noetic faculty, 6 No9s as contrasted with fj Aidvom,
die Vernunft as contrasted with der Ver 'stand. .But while these truths
have been so generally referred to a faculty under these various names, it
has been as generally conceded that the word faculty is not used in it?
usual signification. Thus Hamilton observes (Met Zee, 38), the term
" faculty is employed, not to denote the proximate cause of any definite
energy, but the power the mind has of being the native source of certain
necessary or d, priori cognitions."
8 512. The cognitions or beliefs themselves "have obtained
The appellations ° ... __ . „ _,. _ _ _ . _
by which they various appellations. " Ihey have been denominated kolvcli
are known. , v „ x „ «'_".#"
7rpoArjij/€L<;) koivoll cwololi, (pvatKai evvoiai, 7rpioTai evvotai, 7rpoyra
vorjfiaTa; naturae judicia, judicia communibus hominum sensibus infixa,
notiones or notitiw connatm or innatas, semina scientiw, semina omnium
cognitionum, semina mtemitatis, zopyra (living sparks), prcecognita
necessaria, anticipationes / first principles, common anticipations, princi-
ples of common sense, self-evident or intuitive truths, primitive notions,
native notions, innate cognitions, natural knowledges (cognitions), funda-
mental reasons, metaphysical or transcendental truths, ultimate or ele-
mental laws of thought, primary or fundamental laws of human belief oi
primary laws of human reason, pure or transcendental or d, priori cogni-
tions, categories of thought, natural beliefs, rational instincts, etc., etc."
(Ham., Met. Lee, 38).
Each one of these appellations could be easily explained, either by a reference to the
nomenclature of some received philosophy, or by the obvious import of the words when
applied to this subject-matter. Some additional names have been adopted by modern
philosophers, in consistency with their general theory of knowledge.
Philosophers are generally agreed that there are certain conceptions or ideas
opinion in re- that deserve to be called elementary or original conceptions, certain relations
intuitions theS6 tnat are ProPer^y designated as fundamental, and certain propositions that
take that place in our knowledge which is commonly assigned to first or
necessary truths. But they are far from being agreed as to what truths deserve this preemi-
nence. Nor are they in harmony as to the process or processes by which they are acquired
or revealed, nor as to the conditions or occasions on which they are suggested to or dis-
covered by the mind. Least of all are they possessed of clearly-developed opinions as to the
relation which they hold to the knowledge which is acquired by experience, or is demonstrated
by reasoning.
The language of many writers in respect to these principles is often eminent-
va^^andVo^ ^ vague and figurative, when it ought to be clear and precise. Often the
urative Ian- imagination is resorted to for some bold and striking image, which vividh
presents a sensuous picture rather than satisfies the intellect by a rational
explanation of the problem. Such solutions are accepted by those who mistake the relief
which is felt in passing from the cold shadows of attenuated abstractions into the warm
presence of a concrete image, for the satisfaction which arises from a finished analysis or
well-rounded synthesis of thought-elements and thought-relations. For these reasons the
dr:ty is imperative to attempt to give as clear and as well defined an exposition of these
§513. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMEKATED. 501
truths as the nature of the subject-matter will allow. In doing this, it is fully as important
to distinguish them from what they are not but are sometimes vaguely conceived to be, as
positively to assert what they are.
It will be noticed, that we make this question, at first a question of first principles, or
Pelation of first intuitive truths or beliefs, and not of categories or original relations. The distinction
principles to in- is purely formal. It is a matter of terms and not of thoughts, of language only, but not
tuitions and 0f things. As, however, the concepts and relations concerned are like all other concepts
and relations given in the form of propositions or principles, and especially, as these in
particular are almost always applied in this form, it seems more natural to treat them as such. It is true
in this as in all other cases, that it is from or through a proposition that the appropriate concept is de-
rived. The concepts of cause and effect and of causation, those of means and adaptation as well as those
appropriate to extension and duration, are first gained through propositions. In this we have another
example of the principle that a concept is a contracted proposition, and that the judgment is the norm oi
all forms of knowledge.
£ 513. I. We observe, theD, that in calling them first truths
Not acquired ^ ...... . . . , -, ,
first in. the order or primitive judgments, it is not intended that these truths
or judgments are acquired first in the order of time, or that
the mind's assent to them is prior to its other acts of knowledge. That
they cannot be acquired or assented to first of all, is evident from the
unquestionable fact that, by very many they are never acquired at all.
The majority of men never think- of them, much less do they accept them.
Even the majority who attain to not a little culture, do not reach a clear
and intelligent conviction that these propositions are true.
It was forcibly urged by Locke that such propositions as " whatever is, is "
Locke's discus- and " the same thing cannot be and not be at the same time" cannot be innate,
propositions and f°r tne plain reason that men at their birth, and in all the early period of
ideas. their existence are entirely incapable of understanding the meaning of the
conceptions and terms of which these propositions are composed. If they cannot understand
the constituent elements, much less are they capable of asserting that one of them is true of
the other. This argument of Locke is decisive against any view of these propositions, which
would make them first, prior, or primitive in time. It might be further enforced by the
consideration, that the mass of men are incapable of that analytic abstraction which is
necessary to detach the universal from the individual example in which it is realized. To be
able intelligently to affirm' that, every thing that begins to be, must have a cause ; or that a
thing cannot be and not be at the same time, the mind must separate being or causality from
individual cases or instances of being or causative action — must be able to see in an individual
thing, whether real or thought being — a case of being in general, and in any instance of
combustion or explosion, the causal efficiency exemplified in an individual instance. It ig
easy to see that a man might assent to the truth, that this or that heated substance explodes
a particular mass of gunpowder without distinguishing the one as a cause, and the other as
the effect.
. , Or, if we concede or suppose that the causal attribute or relation could, by
It is impossible , . , ,. . . , , „ ,.,..,, , „ „
that the proposi- analysis, be distinguished from the individual example of cause or effect, an
ments shouM be additional act of generalization would be necessary to qualify the mind tc
apprehended bo assent to the general truth, " Every event must have a cause" To do this
the mind must extend its vision widely enough to take in all events, real and
possible, in all places, far and near, through all time, past, present, and future, in order tc
comprehend the proposition to which its assent is required. But to such an exercise of
generalization or comprehensive reflection, few men voluntarily or involuntarily raise them
selves, and none at a very early period of life.
502 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §514
They are, in These may suffice as reasons for the fact that these truths.
Sst'm the*S3S instead of being the first to be consciously possessed and
of time. assented to, are the last which are reached, and by only a
few of the race are ever reached at all. To reach them, long courses of
training are required, to bring the intellect into a capacity for analysis and
generalization, which may enable it to understand and assent to them. The
mind must be exercised to some extent in philosophical studies before it
can comprehend their import and application.
S 514. II. "We observe that these truths or iud^ments stand
They stand first ~ „ ,
in logical im- first or before all others in the order of rational or logical
portance. . . .'••"-,"
importance. Hence they are called first principles : principles
or truths a priori, as opposed to knowledge d posteriori.
The term principle, which is so often used in this connection,
Various signifi- . . ___;.' T
cations of the is variously employed, and admits 01 many senses. It may
term principle. _ _ _ . . _ . . "
be generally defined as any thmg with which the mind
begins in an act of rational or logical combination, or more generally still,
as the constituent of any product of synthesis. The word principium,
dpx4 is, literally, a beginning or starting-point. From this the transition
is easy to the signification of that with which we begin ; in this case, any
thing with which the mind begins in its acts of connected or synthetic
knowledge. In accordance with this generic signification, it is used in the
following special meanings.
1. Any constituent element of an existing thing, whether it is material or
A constituent el- spiritual — whether it is a being, act, or product, is a principle. The
principle. materials which we put together, or think belong together so as to constitute any
existing object, are sometimes called principles. In a similar way, the simple
concepts that make up any complex concept or general notion whatever, are called principles.
2. Any causal agent in matter or spirit, is called a principle, because the
cause is looked upon as originating and beginning the effect. Thus we say
usa agen . ^ a machine, it has the principle of motion within itself. This use is not
uncommon of the capacities of the soul, viewed as causes of a function or
product. Thus, we say, there is a principle in man's nature by which he is able to distinguish
truth from falsehood, or right from wrong.
3. Every general proposition which is admitted or used as a premise in deduc-
A premise— es- tion, is also a principle. However such propositions are derived, and
forCpremisee ma" howsoever they are supported by evidence, whether they are true or false,
accepted or disputed, they are called principles when used as premises foi
deduction. The reason is obvious. They are so called, because the mind begins with thenr
in the process of its reasoning.
Sir William Hamilton asserts, in his review of Whatcly's Logic, that " no logician ever employed the
term principle as a synonym for major-premise." Whether logicians would or would not accept this as a
proper technical appellation for a major premise, it is quite certain that those who have called themselves
philosophers have so applied the term. The language of Bacon is in strict accordance with the doctrine of
Aristotle in the following passages. " In syllogismo fit reductio propositionum ad principia per proposi-
tioncs medias." De Aug., lib. v. cap. ii. " Ars judicandi per syllogismum nihil aliud est quam reductio
propositionum ad principia per medios terminos." Cap. iv. " Numerus vero terminorum mediorum minui-
tur aut augetur, pro remotionc propositions a prineipio." lb. Webb's Inlellcctualism of Locke, pp. 42, 43.
§515. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 502
4. All generalizations from induction, as well as all collected observations
A. truth or law from experience, are called principles, for the reason that they are used to
Induction! 7 explain and account for the occurrence of particular events or phenomena.
The mind begins with these in all its rational solutions. Hence the powers
of nature and the laws of nature, as well as observed facts when generalized and supposed to
indicate some concealed law, are freely called principles.
5. Those general truths which are the starting-points of the reasonings oi
The ultimate communications of any special science or art, are called, with eminent
science or art "y propriety, principles ; because, in imparting or demonstrating the science,
the teacher begins with these as facts, or reasons from them as premises.
Hence the fundamental maxims or assumptions of mathematics, of logic, of law, of ethics,
of politics and political economy, are called the principles of each of these sciences. In physics,
also, the generalizations of Sir Isaac Newton concerning motion, etc., were called his first
principles or great laws. So the leading truths or rules that are laid down as the guides of
practice in any profession or art, are called the principles of that profession or art* For a
similar reason, even the leading though not absolutely the fundamental truths of any science
— the truths which are relatively comprehensive, though not the most comprehensive — are
called principles ; as the Principia of Newton.
Preeminently § 515. 6. But the appellation of principles is applied with
concepts and re- w . -1 A * x x l
lations that are preeminent propriety to any one of those universal concepts
knowledge. and relations which are implied in any of the different kinds
of knowledge. To know, is to be certain of being or existence in some
form or relation. Any form of being, or any relation which is uniformly
present or involved in any of the distinguishable kinds of original knowl-
edge, is a principle of knowledge. It must be assumed or supposed as a
beginning or element to make that knowledge conceivable.
Should we suppose that every possible kind or mode of knowledge were employed upon
any single object, all these original or first principles would be brought into exercise. The
exercise of the soul's completed knowledge would involve the application of each and all
these principles.
When we turn the power of knowledge in upon itself in the way of reflection — when we
analyze it into its elements, and generalize these elements into concepts, we discover the
principles or elements which enter into the act of knowledge itself. As the nature and
essentials of the acts of knowledge appear most clearly in their products, we find them most
conspicuously in the products of these acts.
Again : As it is by the power and the act of knowledge that we can analyze the acts of
knowledge, and so reach their essential elements, it follows that ultimate principles — these
very principles for which we seek — must be implied and employed even in the act of discover-
ing what these principles are. If this is a paradox in thought and seems a contradiction in
language, it is a paradox which belongs to the very nature of reflection, and is implied by the
possibility of such a power and its appropriate acts and results.
Again : The act of knowledge is an actual discernment of something that is — of being
And its relations. Whatever the mind believes or knows to exist, that must be taken as real.
The relations which it always finds realized in each concrete thing or act, must be taken as
not only the principles necessary to our human knowledge, but as true in the reality of things.
The reality of these relations in the world of being, must therefore be assumed to be implied
in the place which the relations hold as necessary and fundamental to all our knowing.
504 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §516
7. If there are other objects of knowledge usually called
The infinite and . . _ , ........
the absolute are infinite and absolute, which are necessarily implied m these
special and limited relations, these preeminently deserve to
be called principles, as they are in rational order and dependence before,
and the explanation of, all other objects of thought and knowledge.
Whether there are such, must be decided by our subsequent inquiries, and
will be discussed in the appropriate place.
8 516. III. These remarks explain the kind of priority which
The relation of ° _ r x J
intuition to ex- belongs to these truths, and the reason why they are properly
perience. ., T1 "~ . . , ~ .., -i •»
so extensively called principles, first principles, and first
truths. They lead us also to consider more particularly the relations
which they hold to experience, and to the knowledge which is gained by
experience. We have seen, in our previous analysis, that, while these
truths stand first in the order of thought, they are last to be reached in the
order of time. This implies that we are, in some sense, indebted to
experience for their acquisition. It is equally clear that experience does
not give them authority. Both these truths are expressed in the often-
repeated proposition, that our knowledge of these truths is occasioned by,
but it is not derived from experience. This is most happily expressed in a
sentence quoted by Hamilton from Patricius ; cognitio omnis a mente
primam originem, a sensibus exordium habet primum.
Indeed, the most sagacious thinkers coincide in the opinion, that our higher and dpriori
Tpstimo-nv of knowledge, while independent of experience as the source of its evidence and authority,
Leibnitz, Eeid, is dependent upon experience as the occasion of its development. Thus Leibnitz, in
Kant. criticising Loclce for asserting that all our knowledge is derived from sensation and
reflection, says : " The senses, although necessary for all our actual cognitions, are not,
however, competent to afford us all that our cognitions involve." Reid also observes, in defence and
explanation of Locke's real meaning : "I think Mr. Locke, when he comes to speak of the ideas of rela-
tions does not say that they are ideas of sensation or reflection, but only that they terminate in and are
concerned about, ideas of sensation and reflection." Essay, vi. c. i. The doctrine of Kant upon this subject
is uniformly as follows : " We must then first of all observe, that although all judgments of experience are
empirical, •£. e., have their ground in the immediate perceptions of the senses, yet conversely it is not true,
that all empirical judgments are for this reason judgments of experience, but in addition to the empirical
element, and in general in addition to that which is given to sense-intuition, particular concepts must be
furnished, whose origin is d priori in the pure understanding, under which every percept must be subsumed
and so changed into true experiential as distinguished from empirical knowledge." Proleg. zuj. Kuvff.
Met. % 18.
Cousin also repeats himself abundantly in the following strain : " The idea of body is
given to us by the touch and the sight, that is, by the experience of the senses. On the
Cusin0n^ contrary, the idea of space is given to us, on occasion of the idea of body by the under-
standing, the mind, the reason ; in fine, by a faculty other than sensation. Hence the
formula of Kant : • the pure rational idea of space comes so little from experience, that it
is the condition of all experience.' " "Now the idea of space, we have just seen, is clearly the logical con-
dition of all sensible experience. Is it also the chronological condition of experience and of the idea of
body ? I believe no such thing." " Take away all sensation ; take away the sight and the touch, and you
have no longer any idea of body, and consequently none of space." " Eationally, logically, if you had not
the idea of space you could not have the idea of body ; but the converse is true chronologically, and in fact,
the idea of space comes up along with the idea of body." Elements of Psychology, translated by C. S. Henry,
;hap. 2. Cours de VHisloire de la Phil, du lie siecle. Lecon 17.
But while it is easy to assent to these general truths concern-
Successive forms . , , . „ . , , , x . , , -, ...
in which they are ing the relations of experimental to a priori knowledge, it is
more difficult and yet more important to show precisely in
§516. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 505
what form and by what successive steps these truths are implied in, and
yet evolved from experience. Concerning the former, the way or method
in which this knowledge is connected with our experience, we observe
They are ap- (!•) These intuitions are apprehended in a concrete, not an
concre^liot^ abstract form. They can only be known as related to objects
the abstract. 0£ matter or spirit, and never as independent of either.
The intuitions of substance and attribute ; of cause and effect ; of means and end, cannot
be separately perceived by sense or consciousness, nor can they be pictured to the imagination
as separate entities. They are only known and knowable as related to beings, and in connec-
tion with the beings to which they are related. The view that, because they are intuitions,
they must necessarily be perceived apart, or by a faculty in any way analogous to a power of
sense-perception, is only fitted to mislead the mind, and is wholly untenable.
(2.) The only form of language in which any act of primitive
J. llGy HX6 DGSI GX* ••••-, i -a • i » , mi
pressed in prop- mtuition is adequately expressed is the proposition. Ine
subject of this proposition is the concrete object (of matter
or spirit) which sense or consciousness apprehends.
We do, as it were, say, This is a being, cause, effect ; this is long, short, before, or after,
etc. We have before seen that the proposition is the proper expression for all acts of
knowledge. That this which is true of all the other modes of knowing, is preeminently true
of this species or form of knowing, is obvious. All knowledge implies the apprehension of
some relation, and is therefore an act of judgment ; one term of which is a concrete percept,
or a conscious experience. But this knowledge is relational above all others, because it
is invariably affirmed of a material or spiritual being. It must, therefore, be expressed in a
proposition as its appropriate form of language.
It is not true, as is sometimes vaguely conceived and represented, that the mind finds
itself in possession of primary conceptions, which it then unites or connects into first proposi-
tions or principles, but the original conceptions are given, as we have seen, in and through such
propositions. This precludes the possibility, that the concepts or ideas should be furnished
by one faculty — as the reason — and be combined in propositions by another faculty — the
understanding. The true doctrine is, that the original propositions are analyzed so as to
furnish the primitive ideas or notions.
These proposi- (3.) The propositions in which this knowledge is first given
lions are singu- N/ Xi . ..
lar, not general, or expressed, are not general, but singular propositions.
We do not set off with the universal beliefs or affirmations : Every event has some
cause. Every thing seen or felt is extended or enduring, etc., etc. But as we apprehend
each-separate object by perception or consciousness, we apprehend each as caused, extended,
enduring, adapted, etc., etc., affirming mentally — i. e., knowing — this thing, seen or felt, is
caused, extended, enduring, or adapted, etc. Cf. Cousin, Psychology, c. viii. ix. Cours de
PHist, etc., Lecons 23, 24.
(4.) From these propositions, as is true in all other cases, are
These proposi- ~ . , , . mi
tions pass into derived the appropriate concepts. Ine concepts cause and
effect, those of means and end, as well as those appropriate ta
extension, all appear originally as parts or constituent elements of proposi*
tions. From these they are derived. Into these several concepts, each
of these propositions is contracted and condensed.
506 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §517
The condition of
(5.) Before these propositions and their concepts are appre-
ieneraTizTng hended and assented to as universal and necessary, the mind
tions and coi- must turn in upon itself, and reflect upon what it does and
what it discerns in all its processes of knowing.
In each of these processes it must analyze and distinguish the elements that are constant
and essential. The fact that each is constantly present in, and essentially constituent of, these
acts, is then apprehended and affirmed in those universal propositions which "we call first
principles and necessary truths. Neither the concepts nor the propositions are given to the
mind as general notions or universal truths. They are found or discovered to be universally
affirmable of all individual beings and acts. It is only by a critical or reflective judgment that
the mind knows them as universal, necessary, and primary.
The several acts or methods of our knowing are reviewed ; all its distinguishable kinds
are brought before the mind. We are satisfied that, for us, or by us, no additional methods
or kinds are ever exercised, and none can be conceived as possible. In each of these several
kinds, the common element is generalized as the relation of substance to attribute ; of cause to
effect ; of means to end ; of percepts to extension ; of psychical states to time. These are general-
ized into concepts, and receive their appropriate appellations, which, in some cases, are nouns,
in others, circumlocutory phrases ; but in all, serve to designate the always present and essen-
tially constituent fact — exemplified in the concrete instance, and generalized as the universal
concept.
The singulars which we generalize in the case of these relations are, in some
Relation of these respects, unlike the sense-attributes which we generalize into their appropri-
ralizations.gene" ate concepts. The similarity of these concrete relations is not, in all respects,
comparable to the similarity which exists between concrete attributes ;
especially those apprehended by the senses. The generalized concept of a relation does not
hold the same position with respect to its concrete, as does the concept of the singular
percept. "We do not generalize the concept cause from the singular cases of the causal
relation exactly in the same way as we generalize the concepts white and color from the differ-
ent shades of white, or, the different species of color. The generalized relation cannot be
directly imaged as is the generalized percept. If we attempt this, we can only image some
individual percept, and then attach to it some other percept known by memory or pictured by
the imagination as connected in such a relation. None of these relations can be imaged directly ;
they must all be indirectly and mediately pictured or illustrated, if they are pictured or illus-
trated at all. The readiest as well as the most satisfactory sensuous image or vehicle by which
they can be discovered, illustrated, and proved, is language, which, in its words and phrases,
constantly attests the presence and the indispensableness of these relations. To the language
of men we go to find the indications that men believe in them. In language, also, we
discover the traces of the various differences and combinations in which they are accepted and
applied.
8 517. IV. The relation of this knowledge to experience be-
Stages by which ? -, -, i , . . -i t\
they are devei- mg understood and kept m mind, we are prepared to attempt
to indicate the separate stages of the process by which the
knowledge of principles a priori is in fact developed and acquired. Of
these five may be clearly distinguished.
(1.) The first act or stage is the cognition of any concrete
a^reheSn of object, of which in the way already shown any attribute in-
the^oncrete ob- yolving an intuition might be affirmed, or in which such
might be exemplified. The object may be material or spiritual, it may b6
§517. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 50^
a being or an act, as these are commonly distinguished. For example, it
may be a fruit, a piece of marble ; the combustion of wood, the explosion
of gunpowder, the shooting of a star, the running of a horse ; a remem
bered occurrence, a sally of imagination, a fixed purpose, or the ego that
performs conscious acts.
It is conceivable that these and the like objects may be cognized for an instant, without
the perception of any intuitional element or relation. Or should it be conceded that these
cannot be apprehended apart for any length of time, the cognition of being comes first in the
order of nature and of acquisition.
It is obvious also that all men in fact attain this first stage of knowledge. The prominent
objects of sense and of spirit attract the attention of the whole race through those acts of per-
ception and consciousness of which all are capable.
(2.) The next step or stage is the apprehension of these objects
The second, of V ' . r ° . ri ^ J . . J
the objects as re- as related in one or more given ways. The fruit is known
as oval in form, as large or small in size. The color, taste,
and feeling of the fruit are thought of it as qualities or properties. The
combustion and explosion, the remembering, the imagining, are known as
acts of the material or spiritual agent or as effects of which these agents are
the causes ; or as the ends to which other acts are adapted, or for which
they are designed.
This second stage is reached by the whole race, not to the same extent or perfection in
all, but so far that all may be said to achieve this kind of knowledge. Material objects are
known by all men as long and short, round and square. Events are known by all as before and
after. One object or act is known as the cause or the end of another object or act. The words
which express and indicate the more familiar of these relations are accepted in the language
of all men. They are spoken by all, and understood by all as signifying these relations.
__ . , .. (3.) The next stage or act is when the relation is abstracted
Third the appre- x ' .
hension of the from the beings to which it belongs and is generalized intc
relation abstrac- *> y , ^° *=>
ted. relations higher and more extensive, contemplated as sepa-
rate entities. Thus long, short, etc., are contemplated as length or short-
ness ; round, spherical, etc., are known as roundness and sphericity ; past,
present, and future are known as time relations; the power to produce
this or that effect is abstracted and generalized as the causative relation ;
the fitness to accomplish this or that end is generalized and abstracted as
the relation of adaptation.
This third stage is more rarely reached. For the common purposes of life men have little
occasion to view these attributes and relations as separate entities, and still less to carry them
to the highest degrees of generalization. Practical men have little need to consider or to speak
of the relations of time and space or substance or cause, when separate from concrete objects
and events, and when generalized in abstract language. Even thinking men, who may be well
disciplined and practised in intellectual activities of other kinds, have few motives and little
inclination to deal with such entities in their most abstract form.
The fourth a - (4') The/owrZ/i stage is the critical consideration of the pro-
prehension o f cesses of knowledge, and the discernment of these relations
the relation as ° '
fundamental. as essential elements in all these processes and as the funda
508 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 518
mental principles which are implied in them all. It is manifest that this
stage is reached only by a few, and by those only whose attention is
directed to the critical examination of the intellectual processes, and to
a speculative consideration of the principles which they involve,
There are but few who ever ask themselves what it is to know, what are the several modes
or processes of knowing, what are the common elements which are always present in these
processes, which can be analyzed in and generalized from them. Only a small portion of
thinking men are trained to the habits of analysis and abstraction which are required foi
such critical and speculative inquiries. Fewer still raise any questions as to the ultimate and
most general assumptions in the nature and relations of finite things on which the entire
structure of our knowledge is sustained.
(5.) The last stage or act of distinct knowledge is the recog:-
The fifth, appre- v. . _ 7 * _ ;_ -,,-..„. -, ,
hensionof corre- nition ot the correlates, usually called infinite or absolute,
which are required by these relations when they are gen-
eralized and reflected on in their completed import. Thus the relations
of extension when apprehended as belonging to every material object, i. e.,
to the universe in its parts and as a whole, imply Space as their correlate ;
those of duration imply the correlate of Time; the universe conceived as a
single effect implies a single causing agent — the universe conceived as a
designed effect requires that this agent should be intelligent.
These correlates Space, Time, and God, are conceived as the conditions
of the possibility of the universe, and the ground of its reality, and are
therefore the first principles of every thing that is and can be known.
It is manifest, that if it be assumed that there are such correlates to these finite beings,
the consideration of them as the real and the necessary principles of all beings is not within
the reach of the majority of men for the reasons already given. It requires a capacity for the
highest analysis and abstraction of which the human mind is capable. It supposes an interest
in and a capacity for wider generalizations than most men exhibit. Few men attain to these
ideas through processes that are purely speculative. Fewer can give the philosophical reasons
by which they reach and on which they receive them.
All men may have the capacity to assent to truths concerning them when propounded in
terms that are not philosophical, and enforced by reasons that are not abstract and specula-
tive ; but the number is exceedingly small who can analyze the processes by which they are
necessary, or see their relations as the ground of all being and of all knowledge.
The fact that the recognition of these truths is the last attainment of the human mind is
in entire harmony with the general law that the higher comes after the lower in the soul
[Cf. Lotze, Mfo B. i. c. iv.]
- , : . 8 518. This review which we have taken of the several forms
Explains why «
they are dis- in which these truths present themselves, and the several
tmctly known by x 7
bo few. stages by which they are developed to the mind's assent,
serves to explain and confirm what has already been asserted in respect
to these truths, viz., that though first in authority and in logical depend-
ence, they are the last which are reached in the order of time ; and that
though all men manifest a practical belief in these principles, when exern
§519. THE INTUITION'S DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. SOS
plified in the concrete, yet but few understand or assent to them when
stated in a speculative form.
It also enables us to understand how it is possible that they should be
discovered and tested in a variety of methods suited to the condition
of each of these classes, as also why the criteria which satisfy one class
of minds should neither reach nor convince minds of another class.
But what is best of all, it explains why the evidence for
Tested by the , . . , . , r _ \ , . A . , ., ,
language of their truth and universal acceptance which is furnished by
the language and the actions of men is more decisive and
satisfactory than that which comes by speculative analysis or philosophical
argumentation.
We have seen that all men reach the second stage of knowledge, so far as to apprehend
many objects in one or all of these necessary relations to some other object, i. e., as substance
or attribute, as cause or effect, as means or end, etc. Their recognition of these concrete re-
lations, they express by their language in appropriate concrete terms, as by the noun, the
adjective, the verb, etc., in their various forms of flexion and construction. The belief in their
reality they express by their actions, their wishes and hopes, their sacrifices and their labors.
Few men reach the third, and the number is therefore small who reflect upon the relation
of causation when stated as generalized from individual instances, or ask themselves whether
it is universal and necessary to the mind. Much less do they concern themselves with the
inquiry whether this relation is an original principle or element in the processes of human
knowledge. Such persons cannot understand these questions when they are propounded and
discussed by others, because the conceptions and terms are strange and unfamiliar to their
minds. Still less can they appreciate the arguments by which they are supported and the
criteria by which they are determined.
And yet the very language which they use is a constant profession of their faith in the
reality and importance of these relations. Almost every sentence which they frame and word
which they employ is a voluntary acknowledgment, that these intuitions are necessarily accept-
ed by all men. When they act, every one of their expectations and deeds is a more decisive
avowal that these principles are absolutely certain, and never admit an exception.
8 519. This review also explains how it can be that men
Recognized in" . . . ^
the actions when may reject truths in theory which the y admit in fact. In
denied in theory. , ■ -, . -,. , ,
other words, it explains the apparent paradox that there may
be truths which men always recognize in their actions, but deny or ques-
tion when they are phrased as speculative or philosophical propositions.
Such propositions must always be expressed in the language of the Schools, that is in
language which is abstract and therefore to a certain extent technical in its signification. They
must be defended by appropriate evidence, the evidence that is appropriate in the schools ;
which often rests upon principles with which the mind is by no means familiar and is enforced
by methods of reasoning to which it has not been trained or wonted. Again, many men who are
unschooled and all who are schooled, are more or less possessed of and influenced by some
speculative theories which they have caught up by accident or received by tradition from a
venerated or a fashionable philosophical source. Such principles, traditions, and even fashions
in philosophy constitute both the axioms and criteria of their accepted faith, and by
these they measure and try every doctrine which they are called to consider. If such square
with their scanty or their completed, their traditional or their studied philosophy, they receive
^hem 9,3 valid and true ; if they fail to do so, they reject them because they are inconsistent
510 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §520
with the principles which they accept. But when these same faiths are required for theii
assent in language or in action, they present themselves in another form. They assent to
them without hesitation, or rather they do not question them at all. They do not even rec-
ognize the possibility that they can be questioned by any one. They have spoken their
belief by word or act without even knowing that any belief has been uttered.
We are justified in appealing from the philosophy of men to their words and actions.
What all men inadvertently confess in their casual assertions, what they imply in the very
forms of their language, what their actions unbiassed by their theories show that they rec-
ognize, what their expectations from others show that they believe that their fellow-men also
accept, what is assumed in all investigations and reasonings without the attempt to give any
reasons for its truth, — these are all taken to be or to involve universal and necessary truths
of Intuition, however difficult it may be to define them correctly, to reconcile them with the
dicta of a received philosophy, or to show their place in any order of systematic arrangement.
But we are not justified for these reasons in neglecting the speculative treatment of these
truths. Every consideration of a speculative character requires us to subject them to those
criteria which are purely philosophical. These we proceed briefly to consider.
§ 520. V. The philosophical criteria of primitive conceptions
Criteria. and first truths are usually stated as three : ' their univer-
sality, their necessity, and their logical independence and
originality?
(1.) First truths are universally received. If they are not
nS are ^ universal they can he neither necessary nor logically inde-
pendent and original. But in what sense are they under-
stood, and by what evidence can they be shown to be universal ? Surely
not in this, that all men actually assent to them when propounded in a
scientific form and phraseology.
This as we have seen is from the nature of the case impossible, inasmuch as all men are
by no means capable of understanding the terms and grasping the conceptions which enter
into them. But all men can believe them in the concrete, in every individual case in which
they are exemplified without knowing that they thereby exercise knowledge which when
stated in its abstract form would involve the principles in question. Though they do not
know this themselves, they may show it to others by the language which they employ, the
actions which they perform, and the expectations which they cherish. These are sufficient to
prove that certain truths are universally accepted.
(2.) First truths are also necessary. Truths to be universal
necXs^r?!18 are an(i primitive must be necessary, i. e., the intellect must be
constrained by the constitution of its being and the spontane-
ous workings of its nature to receive them as true. It cannot know ob-
jects of any kind except under their relations and according to the con-
nections which they involve. Should it attempt to do so or to prove that
it does not employ and recognize them, it would make the effort of know-
ing without them, and of proving that it did not, by using these very re-
lations in its efforts and its arguments.
When these truths are called necessary, the intellect is conceived as endowed with a
permanent constitution working after certain laws, to uniform results. Should it be suggested
that, what may be necessary to one intellect may not be necessary to another, or that what
§ 521. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 511
maybe necessary to one order of intellects, e. g., to man, may not be necessary to another order
of intellects, e. g., to another race or created order of spirits, it may suffice to answer that the
grounds by or through which we make this suggestion and the argument by which we enforce
it all presuppose the application and necessity of these relations for all who know, or to whom
our knowledge affirms any thing to be true. If we attempt to destroy the grounds of human
knowledge we must do it by means of the very relations upon and out of which this knowl-
edge is constructed.
(3.) First truths must be logically prior to and independent of
They are inde- \/ , , _.. -f.-, .
pendent of other all other truths. Jiacn one oi them is the most generic con-
cept of many similar individual relations. It can be itself
resolved into no other, and can be proved by no other.
This is what Buffier must intend, when he says, " they are propositions so clear that they
can neither be proved nor attacked by any propositions more clear than themselves." Hamil-
ton means the same when he calls them incomprehensible, defining the term to signify, that
of which we know the fact, but cannot give a reason. Hence they are called self-evident truths
and Intuitions, because they need only be seen or apprehended to be believed. The act
of critical or speculative intuition is not an act of sense-perception nor an act at all analogous,
nor is it an act of memory, nor an act of reasoning in any of its forms ; but an act of knowl-
edge which is direct and original and is the necessary condition of all other acts of knowl-
edge, preeminently of those which are the highest of all, viz., the acts of thought.
§ 521. It follows that these truths are neither discovered by
discovered by in- induction nor generalized from experience. That truths
thus acquired are worthy to be called principles in a very
high and important sense has already been conceded. But it by no
means follows that the truths which are principles in a sense which is still
higher and more eminent are also derived from this source. That they are
not the result of induction has been shown by the nature of induction as
revealed in the analysis already given of the process. It has been shown
that the process involves certain assumptions as true ; or the belief of cer-
tain relations as original and self-evident. Unless we begin by assuming
that these relations are valid and original, we cannot confide in the pro-
cess of induction itself. Indeed, without these assumptions, the process
can have no meaning.
That they cannot in any way be generalized from experience has been shown by the
analysis already given of their relations to experience. J. S. Mill, in his Logic, contends most
earnestly that all the so-called original necessary truths, including the postulates of mathe-
matics, are derived by Induction through experience. The considerations already adduced
are decisive against his theory. This will appear still more evident when we consider these
truths more particularly.
" Man kann durch sie nie Grundsatze sondern, nur Lehrsatze einer
theoretischen Wissenschafl erschliessen. Die Induction ist nicht der Wee:
zu den nothwendigen Wahrheiten, sondern der Weg zu der Verbindung
der nothwendigen Wahrheiten mit den zufalligen Wahrheiten."
E. F. Apelt, Theorie der Induction, § 8, p. 58.
512 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §522.
§ 522. N"or can they be regarded as the highest premises
major presses for comprehensive syllogisms, obtained "by successive pro-
for syllogisms. n . , i • . i
cesses 01 regressiveiy analyzing the premises or assump-
tions on which narrower syllogisms are founded. This view has been
countenanced, if it has not been taught directly, by philosophers of very
high authority.
Thus Dr. Reid says, "When we examine, in the way of analysis the evidence of any proposition,
either we find it self-evident, or it rests upon one or more propositions that support it. The same thing
may be said of the propositions that support it, and of those that support them, as far back as we can go.
But we cannot go back in this track to infinity. Where, then, must this analysis stop 1 It is evident that it
must stop only when we come to propositions which support all that are built upon them, but are them-
selves supported by none— that is, to self-evident propositions." Ess. VI. c. iv.
So Aristotle : 'Hjuei? Se <$>afj.ev, ovre natrav emo"nqiJ.riv airoSeutTuajv elv<u, aWa. ttjv twv afieawv avairoSein-
tov ' Kal toC0' oti avaynalov, $>avepov • el yap avayxij [lev eniaTaaOai ra rrporepa Kal ef 5>v i) an68et£is, iararai
Se jroTe, Ta djote'cra tclvt avanoSeiKTa avayxij elvai. Anal. Post. i. 3 ; cf . i. 22. Cf. McCosh, Intuitions of the
Human Mind, Part i. B. i. c. ii. § 1 (6).
To the same effect Buffier urges, " What is that which makes the little knowledge of which we are
capable, so defective 1 It is that in the cbain of our reasonings there are propositions at which our intellect
stops, or respecting the truth of which others do not agree with us. These we endeavor to demonstrate ;
if our arguments do not convince, we adduce new proofs of these arguments. But in going up from proof
to proof, we must at last reach propositions which do not need to be proved. * * * It follows therefore
most clearly that there are propositions which it is not necessary to undertake to prove, but which it is
of the last importance that we discern." Traite d.prem. ver. Dessein, etc., § 6.
It is, however, one thing to show that without first truths no deduc-
tion is possible, and quite another to show that such truths must be em-
ployed as the ultimate premises in our most comprehensive deductions.
The analysis already given of the deductive process has shown that it rests
primarily upon the relation of reason to conclusion, which in its turn rests
upon the relation of cause to effect. It has also shown that the materials for
deduction are all derived from induction or mental construction. First
truths, or intuitive relations are implied as in one sense the support
or foundation of the process of deduction, but not in the way of serving
as its most comprehensive premises. .
Were we to consider the process of deduction in its purely logical relations,
In their nature we should clearly see that these truths could serve no use as premises.
anything. Nothing could be proved by such universal and wide-reaching propositions as
every event must be caused, etc., etc. As soon as you interpose the minor, ' this
explosion is an event,' you make no progress towards additional knowledge in the conclusion.
You know already that this explosion was an event. In knowing it at all you had already
decided that it was one of the things that are caused. Or more exactly, deduction as a logical
process consists in the act of affirming [or denying, as the case may be] the predicate of a
major premise of the subject of a minor by means of an intervening middle term. Let the
major premise be ' all matter is extended,' and the minor be, ' electricity or light is matter ' the
conclusion would be ' light or electricity is extended.' Here it is argued you would have a
convincing process. To this we reply, certainly, it would seem so, provided the minor were
accepted or proved, but in proving that light or electricity is matter, you must prove
that they possess the essential properties of matter, of which extension is one and is known
to be one by intuition. From premises with predicates given by intuition there can be no
progress towards any conclusion. The same fact may be stated more briefly thus : whatever ia
intuitively known to be true of each individual of the whole sphere or extent of a concept,
§ 523. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 513
need not and therefore cannot be proved by deduction to belong to every such individual.
Moreover, not a single example can be cited of a syllogism that proves any thing, the majot
premise of which is a first truth or a first principle.
For the purposes of deductio/i, all such principles are barren and useless. Nothing can
be derived from them. From their very nature, they are simply statements concerning the
relations or elements, that are present in every act of our higher knowledge. It is only be-
cause they are present as an essential and necessary element in all these processes that they
must of necessity be conditions of deduction.
§ 523. VI. These intuitions or categories are in the strict
pendent of one sense of the term logically independent of one another. Their
apparent dependence upon one another arises from the limits
of the human intellect. These prescribe a certain order in the familiar
acquisition of these concepts and in the frequency and extent of their ap-
plication.
The observation is very common that by a logical necessity we must think of being
before we think of its relations or attributes ; of time before we think of space ; of all these
before we think of cause, and of these together with causation before we think of design : or, as
expressed in other language ; Being is fundamental to all the other categories, and must be
presupposed before and as the condition of them all : and in a similar manner the less must
precede the more dependent till the entire circle is complete.
This attempt to develop the categories from one another was carried to its extreme by
Hegel, who began with being, and making "being to be equal to nothing, i. e. to have no
mentof the cate- content, sought by what he called its becoming, i. e., the independent and necessary
gories. movement of the concept, to evolve all the categories from one another, not only of
thought but of material and spiritual existence, in a self-completing and perpetually
repeated circle. This self-evolved and self-completing circle of necessary concepts was conceived by him as
the Idea, and all these together constituted the absolute, i.e. the sum total of mutually-related possible, and
actually conceivable thoughts and things.
Hegel's mistake was twofold. He attempted to derive things from thoughts, or real from logical rela-
tions, instead of finding all logical, i. e., all generalized relations in those which are real. He attempted
t.o derive one category from another, instead of explaining the apparent depeudence of one upon another by
the order in which they are developed to, and the extent in which they are applied by, the mind through its
psychological limitations.
These categories cannot be developed from one another, for if this were
Why they seem possible, they would not be primitive and original. One cannot be explained
on one another, into or resolved by another. None of them is properly complex, for if this
were so, each of the constituent elements would be original and primitive,
but not their constituted whole. They cannot be dependent in the relation of content, i.e., the
import of one cannot be resolved into that of another. Nor is one more extensive than the
other, so far as the real objects are concerned to which they may possibly be applied. Every
object that exists must be conceived as existing, as diverse from others, as related to others,
as whole or part, as in time and space, as capable of number, etc., etc. Were the mind
capable of attending to all these conceivable relations of every existing object by a single
intuitive act ; were it not dependent upon the slow processes of observation and induction to
learn which is related to which as cause and effect, power and law, means and end, these rela-
tions would be equally extensive in their application, and would all be co-ordinate with one
another in the view of the human as they are before the divine mind. But inasmuch as the*
human mind proceeds in its knowledge step by step, some of these relations are far more
familiarly and far more extensively applied than others. Some of them are applied to objects of
imagination and thought, while others are more rarely affirmed even of things. The relations
of dependence between them are therefore chronological and psychological rather than logical.
33
514 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §525.
They are founded on the readiness with which they are acquired, and the frequency with
which they are applied by the finite intellect of man, which can give its attention to but
few objects at once ; and to some objects more readily than to others.
§ 524. VII. The categories or intuitions may be divided
Distinguished in- \Bi0 the formal, the mathematical, and the real. The formal
to three ciasses. . . . .
are those which are necessarily involved in the act of knowl-
edge, whatever be its objects-matter — whether they be real, imagined, or
generalized — whether they be actually existing or purely mental creations.
They are essential to the form or process of knowledge, and appear in all
its objects or products. The mathematical are those which grow out of
the existence of space and time and suppose these to be realities. The
relations included under this definition are not exclusively used in the
sciences of number and quantity, but inasmuch as they are fundamental
to these sciences, we distinguish them by this epithet ; using mathematical
to designate all the time and space relations and those which are de-
pendent upon them. The real are those which are ordinarily recognized
as generic and fundamental to the so-called qualities and properties of
existing things, both material and spiritual. We do not, however, by
using the term real, imply or concede that the formal and the mathe-
matical are any the less real — but that they are not limited so exclusively
to objects really existing.
To analyze the categories into their ultimate elements, is confessedly not easy. Some
Why difficult to tna* seem to be simple and ultimate, prove themselves, on a closer inspection, to be corn-
determine and plex and derived. To arrange them in a satisfactory classification is, if possible, still
classify them. more difficult. The principles by which, and the starting-point from which, such a
classification may be conducted, are various, and are far from being universally agreed
upon. Should our attempt be only partially successful, it may yet further the ends of truth by its partial
success, and its partial failure, as the first is approved and as the second provokes criticism.
The problem is, to determine what relations and concepts are original, in the sense of being incapable
of being interchanged with and derived from, any other. The difficulty of solving the problem is greatly
increased by the circumstance that the same original continually appears and reappears under different
names ; the difference in the terms being owing, in part, to merely linguistic influences, and in part to
the combination of the original with some other element, giving a complex notion, in which the category
is prominent. In other cases, the element in question is disguised under a term in which its purpose or
use is most conspicuous. Thus, the category of being signifies generic or thought-being, real being, an
existing, i. e., individual being, substance, etc., and the relations of causation are more or less conspicuous
and yet variously applied in the terms power, efficiency, capacity, faculty, quality, etc., etc.
The principal categories and intuitions may be determined by a reference to the several
acts and objects of knowledge which have come under consideration in the preceding analysis
of the powers, products, and processes of the human intellect. In this analysis we have sought
to recognize all the objects and relations involved, and the review of it will be likely to suggest
the most important.
§ 525. The formal categories have been defined as the
The formal cate- generic conceptions and relations Avhich are involved in
gones. ° *
every form or kind of knowledge. We call them formal
because they are present in every act of knowing, whatever be its con-
ditions or objects. These essential and always present relations will not, of
course disappear when the real relations present themselves which are d&
§526. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 515
rived from the objects known. They must perpetually appear and re
appear in connection with these, whether they are recognized or over
looked.
It will be observed that these are not formal in the sense in which the
term is often applied, i. e., as pertaining exclusively to logical or thought
knowledge. They are present in all the forms of knowing, in conscious*
ness, sense-perception, and representation, as truly as in the technically-
called forms of thought. Thought generalizes them, and hence, even
when they are spoken of in perception and consciousness, they are pre-
sented to the mind as concepts, and thus involve the relations of concepts
to concepts, as well as the relations of things to things.
Knowledge, in all its forms, has been defined as the apprehension of being. Every thing
known is known as a being (§ 48). The concept of being is coextensive with knowledge, and
is therefore fundamental. But in knowing, we not only apprehend being but beings as related
(§ 49). Relationship or the condition of being related, is a concept which is as truly involv-
ed in every act of knowledge and is equally extensive and original with being.
But in knowing being as related, we must distinguish beings from their relations — i. e.
knowledge involves analysis (§ 50), and thus requires the condition of being distinguished,
i. e., diversity in objects known, and that this should be as extensive as the act of knowledge.
Not only is analysis present in every act of knowledge, but synthesis also. But union and
separation involve products in objects related as wholes and parts.
One being is distinguished from another being and one relation from another relation, as
truly as one being is distinguished from its relations. The relation of diversity extends to
beings and relations.
But again: when beings are generalized they are united, i. e., brought into a whole, by
means of common, i. e., similar, relations (§ 390). They cannot be described in language or
defined in science, except by means of their characteristic relations. They are known and
knowable by these common properties. Not only is every being known by its distinguishing
relations, but they are still further known in their classes by the greater or less number of
relations which are common and peculiar to each, i. e., by being combined in class-concepts,
which are more or less comprehensive. Distinguishability by relations, enters very largely into
our knowledge. It is present as extensively as generalization or the use of concepts. This
gives us the so-called category of substance and attribute, as at least coextensive with the act
of knowledge by concepts. But the concept, in its double relation of content and extent,
involves logical analysis and synthesis, with logical parts and wholes as their prodiccts.
Diversity again involves the relations of identity, in the double form
of real and logical identity, according as the object-matter is a being
known to be identical with itself, or as it is a concept regarded as identical
with its elements.
8 526. We pass from the act to the objects of knowledge.
The mathemat- .,.,,. , . , , . , . , . . ,
icai or logical All the beings which we know are either material or spiritual.
The distinctive relations of each are manifold, as we have seen ;
but those most generic and universal are their time and space relations.
All spiritual beings and phenomena are enduring or time-requiring. All
material beings and phenomena are extended, or space-occupying, and
"ndirectly time-filling. These relations are coextensive with these two
516 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §527.
kinds of being, and hence are said to be characteristic of them, as existing
or real objects.
It is by means of space-relations that we connect together the several percepts that are
given by the separate senses into material wholes or things. These material wholes we divide
into smaller spatial limits, or we can enlarge them by extending their limits and adding to
their substance, thus making material wholes and parts by the analysis and synthesis that is
essential to all sense-perception.
By the time-relations we connect the several states of the soul which we experience in
consciousness as coexisting and successive, and affirm the continued and identical existence
of the soul itself; making wholes and parts of its activity, as we are conscious of the soul
as one existing being in many acts or states.
Time and space relations are eminently individualizing relations, inasmuch as the indi-
vidual objects of sense-perception and consciousness are known as limited to certain time and
space relations, as now and then, here and there, or as still further limited by the combina-
tion of the two — the observer occupying a given place, or existing at a given time when he is
respectively conscious of a psychical state as now or then, or cognizant of a sense-object as here
or there. This is equivalent to th« use of the definite articles the, this, or that. But again,
these relations may be generalized, and so express size, form, situation, and direction, the pres- .
ent, the past, and the future, and so be applicable to a great variety of material and spiritual
objects.
The most striking scientific use to which they are applied is when
the ideal relations of certain products of the constructive imagination are
generalized, and the various concepts of magnitude and number are the
results, with the relations which they involve. These give us another
species of thought-wholes and thought-parts, which are the representatives
and symbols of the various species of quantity. It is for their important
service, and their ready application to these uses, that time and space
relations are called by eminence the mathematical relations.
Time and space relations also render another important service. All spiritual phenomena,
and all thoughts, i. e., intellectual concepts and relations, must of necessity be set forth by
analoga which are founded on sense-objects or sense-images, i. e., on objects and images
borrowed from the material world, and holding relations to both space and time. That is, the
concepts proper to all these words, must in some way or other be constructed of elements
which, in the ultimate analysis, are derived from properties or relations that are imaged in
space and time. The most abstract terms in every language — the terms for the very categories
themselves, as being, diversity, relationship, even for time and space themselves — will be found
to be derived from such images, or to suggest them. The universal attendant upon all
phenomena, whether material or spiritual activities, or their products, is motion. Hence, motion
is used so largely in the construction of all concepts, and the importance of motion, as the one
category that is in a sense common to all the rest and the agent by which beings and their
thought-relations are conceived by the mind. But motion implies both space and time, the
concepts of which it enables us to construct, and which, in its turn, it helps us to reason of, and
to define. (Cf. A. Trendelenburg, Logische Untersuchungen).
§ 527. The remaining class of relations is the real, the so-
The ieai cate- called qualities, properties or powers of existing material and
spiritual beings. These are reducible to two, viz., causation
§ 52*7. THEORIES OF INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 517
ar the capacity to produce effects; and adaptation or the fitness to accom-
plish certain designs or ends.
The first is generic to all material and spiritual properties and powers, Every thing which
we call a .sensible or spiritual quality in nature requires and supposes the fundamental relation
of cause and effect. Every such quality when affirmed of a being is but another name for its
causative power to produce such and such an understood or assumed effect. Even spatial
motions are conceived by the spatial relations which they involve or bring to view, as causal
capacities to produce or effect certain mathematical constructions, and thus in a certain sense
' to come under the category of causation. We extend the same relation to the properties of
abstracta or the mental entities which are formed by abstraction and generalization. These
causative relations furnish the most important materials for the analysis and definition of our
concepts of material and spiritual things, and for the arrangement of them into classes. The
so-called powers of matter and faculties of spirit are causal capacities ; the conditions to the
actual exertion of this causal force being called their laws. These conditions are most conspic-
uous in those laws of material forces which are found in those mathematical relations, the
value of which has been so amply illustrated in the progress of physical science. The elements
into which analysis and preeminently scientific analysis seeks to resolve all material and spirit-
ual agents, are their causative energies.
But when science combines these elements which it has separated, for the rational use 01
interpretation of nature, it recognizes the second generic relation, viz., the relation of adapta-
tion. It does this when it itself combines together several agencies for the designed produc-
tion of an effect, or when it interprets a result which it finds in nature by the combined
activity of the agencies which it knows are fitted and it believes were designed to effect it.
As by analysis we separate the several causative elements of an object, and in so doing, turn
the mind in different directions or aspects in order to view the object in its relations to every
other, so by synthesis we bring these elements together when we view them as forming the
designed or permanent essence of the object before us. We do the same when we regard
several powers of different beings or several beings as acting together to accomplish any effect
for which they are essential. It is by the relation of adaptation in certain powers in nature
to certain designs of nature that we explain the permanence of individuals and classes. It is
by the adaptation of the powers and laws of the objects which we know, to the impulses and
operations of the knowing mind, that we explain the endurance of the laws of nature. It is
by the same consideration of adaptation that we confide in the harmonious action of the
powers of nature and the stability of her structure ; that we rely upon the trustworthiness of
her indications, or believe in the development and progress of the Universe. It is by adapta-
tion that we connect the parts of the universe into a finite system or whole or find the
best solution of its being and its order and interpretability in a self-existent and per-
sonal Intelligence.
CHAPTER II.
THEORIES OE INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE.
A. complete sketch of the various theories which have been held in respect to the nature,
origin, and authority of primitive notions and intuitive judgments, would involve the
most important portion of a complete history of Metaphysics or Speculative Philosophy.
Such a sketch would be entirely out of place in the present work, and will not be at«
518 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 529.
tempted. We shall only endeavor to group and critically examine, under a few compro
hensive titles, those theories which have any present interest for modern thought, 01
which are still maintained in modern schools of philosophy.
§ 528. ]. It has been extensively taught and believed, that these original ideas and
rhe theory of a grs^ truths are discerned by direct insight or intuition, independently of their relation
-ision of first ^° ^e phenomena of sense and spirit. The power to behold them is conceived as a
truths. special sense for the true, the original, and the infinite ; as a divine Reason which acts
by inspiration, and is permitted to gaze directly upon that which is eternally true
and divine. The less the soul has to do with the objects of sense the better— the more it is withdrawn
from these, the more penetrating and clear will be its insight into the ideas which alone are permanent
and divine. Such are the representations of Plato, Plotinus, etc., among the ancients. Similar language
has been employed by many in modern times who have called themselves Platonists. Platonizing
theologians have freely availed themselves of this phraseology and have seemed to sanction the views which
this language signifies. Thus the Platonizing and Cartesian divines of the seventeenth century, as Henry
More, John Smith of Cambridge, Ralph Cudworth, and multitudes of others, freely express themselves.
Philosophers who Platonize in thought or language have adopted similar phraseology ; some have even
pressed these doctrines to the most literal interpretation. Malebranche, Schelling, Coleridge, Cousin, and
others, have allowed themselves to use such language and have given sanction to such views more or less
clearly conceived and expressed. Those who combine with philosophic acuteness, the power of vivid im-
agination and of eloquent exposition, not infrequently meet the difficulties which attend the analysis and
explanation of the foundations of knowledge, by these half-poetic and half-philosophical representations.
"Whatever may be their real meaning, it is manifest that the representations which they give are not
true when literally interpreted. It cannot be successfully, scarcely soberly maintained, that these ideas and
truths are discerned by the mind out of all relation to actual beings and concrete phenomena. It is so far
from being true that the mind needs to be delivered from, or to look away from the sensible in order to
discern the rational, that it should always be remembered, that it is only by means of the sensible that
permanent principles and relations can ever be reached. No direct inspection of primitive ideas and
principles is conceivable. It is not by withdrawing the attention from, but by fixing it upon the facts and
phenomena of the actual world, that the truths and relations of the world which is ideal and rational can
be discerned at all.
If we put a more sober as well as a more charitable interpretation upon the language in question, we
shall be safe in asserting, that when this class of writers require that the intellect should be withdrawn
from the sensible in order that it may discern the rational, they mean only that the mind should disregard
what is peculiar to the individual, and consider those attributes and relations which are necessary and uni-
versal. "When they insist that there is in man a special sense or insight for the supersensual, they intend
that the mind cannot avoid contemplating the higher relations of sensible and transitory objects.
§ 529. 2. Many of the earlier philosophers and theologians of modern times, following
The theory that ^he Scholastics of the middle ages, were accustomed to say that these ideas and truths
corned by the are discerned by the light of reason and the light of nature, or that they are evidenced
light of nature. or evinced by their own light. The use of this language is in part to be traced to the
often-repeated maxim of Aristotle that some truths cannot be demonstrated, but
must be accepted without proof ; in part by a Platonic interpretation of the passage in the gospel of John
(i. 9), in which the Word is said to enlighten every man who corneth into the world.
"Whatever may have been the origin of the phrase, the fact is undoubted that, before the critical
investigations were introduced by Descartes which led to the modern psychology, these primitive
ideas and primitive truths were generally said to be discerned by the light of nature.
It is obvious that the phrase is figurative and expresses only the fact which remains to be explained
and accounted for, that these truths are neither generalized from experience nor deduced by logical ratio-
cination ; that they are no sooner thought of than they are assented to, and that upon them as original
assumptions rests the validity of all generalization and deduction.
The following account of the lumen nalurale is taken from the Lexicon Philosophicum of Chauvinus.
Puotterdam, 1692. " Hujus modi autem lumen humanse menti convenire ex eo confici putant, quod eidem
humanse insit, tarn ea, qua? vulgo appellatur intelligcntia, sive habitus primorum principiorum, quam les
naturalis ; quae certe nihil aliud esse posse aiunt quam prsedictum lumen naturale."
" Inest quidem humanse menti cum intelligentia, turn lex naturalis : ilia qua gcneralium quarundaruin
propositionum ad quas, velut ad primam scientise normam, omnes disciplinarum omnium demonstrationes
revocari possunt, ut impossibile est idem simul esse, et non esse; tolum est sua parte majus ; hoec quii boni
faciendi, malique vitandi, ut honesle vivere, neminem Icedere, suum cuique tribuerc, mens humana, nemir.o
mortalium docente, et conscia et persuasissima est. Sed utraque ilia mentis humanse qualitas est lumen
katurale; si quidem utraque est informatio nostra? menti a Deo, et de Deo ingenit a, nullum unquara
ftnem habitura. Hanc autem sententiam impugnant alii." Cf. Koliones Communes. Chauvini Lex. Phil
§531,
THEORIES OF INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 51 P
§ 530. 3. The doctrine has been earnestly held and taught that these ideas and beliefs
"That they are are ^nale in or connate with the soul This is well known as the doctrine which Des-
innate or con- cartes is supposed to have taught, and to the refutation of which Locke devoted the first
nate- book of his Essay. It is that the intellect finds itself at birth or as soon as it wakes to
conscious activity, to be possessed of ideas to which it has only to attach the appropriate
lames, or of judgments which it needs only to express in fit propositions. Whether this doctrine as thus
lefined and stated, was ever held by any one may perhaps be questioned. Even Descartes himself seems,
when pressed, wholly to abandon the doctrine which he had earnestly propounded and made the foundation
of the most important conclusions. That many have used language which would admit only of this con-
struction can be satisfactorily shown. But no philosopher would be thought worthy of attention who should
contend that these primary conceptions are formed by the mind without the experience of individual objects,
or that the mind at a very early period of its activity has any judgments which involve them. All will
agree that it is only after the experience of many individual objects that these conceptions are developed
to its distinct apprehension, and that the mind must reach the highest and last stage of its development
before the so-called innate ideas are horn into life.
On the other hand, it would be conceded by many, and can be defended as true, that the capacity to
evolve these ideas and these truths is born with man and forms an essential feature of his constitution as
& man. Not only is he endowed with these capacities but he is also furnished with tendencies which im-
pel to their exercise, under which these conceptions and judgments are surely and necessarily developed
so soon as the mind applies the necessary attention or awakes to the requisite conditions. Even before
these conceptions are generalized they are assented to in the individual and concrete, in the most important
kinds of knowledge.
What is innate in man ia, then, the capacity to know objects under these universal and necessary
relations so soon as the mind is sufficiently developed, or finds the requisite occasion to apply them. Ther«
is innate, also, the necessity, so soon as the mind reflects on the relation of these truths to the rest of its
knowledge, that it should find in them the foundations of or necessary assumptions for all that it knows.
Moreover, as soon as it considers itself as being born with a constitution which fits it to know, it must
recognize the capacity for receiving these fundamental truths and for receiving them as fundamental, to
be born with its being.
§ 531. 4. From the doctrine of innate ideas and the school of Descartes, the transi-
The views of *^on ^s natural and direct to the views held by Locke and the several divisions of his
Locke and his school. These are naturally grouped together, though the interpretations of the mean-
school, ^g 0£ Jjqq^q are very diverse, and the several schools that are named after Locke hold
opposite and incompatible opinions. It will be found, however, that they all can b?
traced to Locke, either as they are sanctioned by his direct authority or were derived from some of his
principles by logical deduction or natural growth ; or as they were devised to supplement some of his sup-
posed oversights or defects. These various schools also, in their turn, prepared the way for the origination
and development of the leading schools of the later modern philosophy.
Locke, as is well known, rejected the doctrine of innate ideas and protested most vigor-
ously against it, in the first book of his Essay. This protest was of the greatest service
innate 1 deaTS ° to PnilosoPny m delivering it from the vague and fantastical assertions upon this sub-
ject which had been allowed before his time. It has been questioned and may be
doubted, whether any sober and considerate thinker ever received the doctrine in the
form and sense in which Locke rejected it. It is certain that many philosophical writers have expressed
themselves in language which warranted the interpretations which Locke thought it necessary to refute.
But Locke did not guard himself against serious ovei-sights in this polemic. He did not
distinguish between our positive ideas of objects and acts in both matter and spirit-
were unguarded wmctl make up the materials or facts of knowledge— and the relations between these
materials, which, if possible, are more important than the facts which they connect.
Nor did he conceive at all the difference between an idea as acquired by experience and
as occasioned by experience. He did not discern that a relation which is developed in experience to con-
scious apprehension, must be implied or assumed to make experience possible. He did not distinguish
between innate ideas and innate dispositions or capacities to develop and assent to the truths which in-
volve original ideas. To correct these oversights, Leibnitz subjoined his well-known reply to the adage,
" nihil in intellectu quod non prius in sensu" — " nisi ipse intellectus."
Locke asserts positively that all our ideas are obtained through two sources, Sensation
and Reflection. Sensation gives the knowledge of sensible objects and their qualities
of kno^wled^e063 Reflection gives the knowledge of spirit and its operations. He was careful to ad I
that except through these two sources we have no ideas whatever. What Locke in-
tended by idea* admits here of a question similar to that which was noticed in connection
with innate ideas. Did he mean positively to exclude from ideas those necessary relations by which the
mind connects all the objects of matter and spirit which it observes or experiences? It is probable that in
laying down these leading positions, this distinction was not in his mind, and that for this reason he did
not provide against uncertainty or ambiguity of interpretation. It was not unnatural that different con-
520 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §531
structions should be put upon doctrines thus announced, and that according to these diverse interpreta
tions, there should spring up among his followers different schools of philosophy.
One class of those who called themselves his disciples, by greatly limiting or almost
setting aside his definition of reflection, interpreted him as teaching that all our posi-
Condillac ana ^ye j^eas are 0f material objects, and perverted his principle so as to make him teach a
materialistic philosophy. Condillae thus applied his doctrine, and he derived from it
the conclusion that all our ideas, whether those of sense or spirit, are simply trans-
formed sensations. " Locke distingue deux sources de nos idees : les sens et la reflexion. II serait plus
exact de n'en reconnaitre qu'une source, parce que la reflexion n'est dans son principe que la sensation elle-
meme, soit parce qu'elle est moins la source des idees que le canal par le quel elles decoulent des sens." —
Traile des Sensations. This doctrine, in the form in which it was taught by Condillae and by others of
the French school, was long since abandoned, but tendencies to the same doctrine, if not the same opin-
ions in respect to the nature and origin of mental activities and their products, retain their hold most
tenaciously among many modern psychologists, such as J. S. Mill, and Alexander Bain, with others.
Hume (Treatise on Human Nature. Part III. §§2, 3, 4, 14, 15. Inquiry concerning the
Human Understanding. § 7.) applied the dictum of Locke in respect to the sources of
tol^ocke1"6 a 10n knowledge in the analysis of the relation of causation, or as he called it, of the idea of
Cause and Effect, and of Necessary Connexion. He first demonstrated, as it was easy to
do, that this idea could not be gained from Sensation. He then inquires -whether it
can be gained by Reflection, or the conscious experience which we have of the exercise of power in the
production of effects by volition. To this he answers in the negative, experience giving us only the in-
variable succession or the constant conjunction of these internal ideas.
How then, he asks, does it happen that we connect objects as causes and effects, and what is the
meaning of the combination 1 "We certainly do thus connect them, and we give to them as thus connected
the names respectively of causes and effects. To his own question, he replies : Objects which are observed
to be always conjoined, we invariably associate in our minds. "When we observe the one we cannot avoid
thinking of the other. The principle of association is that which explains, and it is the only mental law
that explains the combination of objects and events as causes and effects.
The solution applied by Hume to the single relation of cause and effect, has since his
. time been applied to the explanation of other of the so-called necessary truths or
tional SchoSolCia" Primitive cognitions. Dugald Stewart used it to account for the belief that every
visible or colored, i. e., every object involvesabeliefin,andanapprehension of, extension.
Dr. Tliomas Brown carried it still farther, applying it to a great number of relations.
James Mill, in his Analysis of the Human Mind, was the first to find in the doctrine of inseparable or in-
dissoluble associations a solvent for all necessary beliefs and original conceptions. John Stuart Mill, his
son, in his Logic and Examination of the Philosophy of Sir William Hamilton, has applied this principle
in detail to all the so-called original and necessary truths with the conceptions which they involve. He
has attempted by this single formula to show that mathematical conceptions and axioms are generalized
from experience, that the universal and necessary belief in causation is to be accounted for by experience
only, and results from associations that cannot be overcome or separated. Herbert Spencer, while on the one
hand he earnestly contends that the inconceivability of the opposite is the decisive test of original truths,
holds that these very axioms are our earliest inductions from experience. Moreover, he holds that the
capacity of induction itself is the result of processes of association which descend from one generation to
another, with an augmented tendency, till they acquire that irresistible force which excludes the con-
ceivability of their opposite. All these writers may be said to belong to the school of Locke, but they receive
only one or two of his leading doctrines and interpret them in a narrow spirit, and apply them to
explain conceptions and beliefs to which Locke never thought of applying them.
Dr. Tliomas Reid, with Hutcheson, Oswald, and Beattie, was aroused by the skeptical
conclusions derived by Hume and Berkeley from the doctrines of Locke, to combat his
Scottish School* P1,inciPle as it had till then been interpreted— that all ideas are obtained from sensation
or reflection— and to assert for the mind itself an independent power or source of
knowledge. This power was called by them Common Sense, and to it was referred our
belief in the original and fundamental elements of all knowledge. Reid was especially earnest in assert-
ing the necessity of first principles as the foundations of knowledge in general and of every special science
in particular. Of these principles there is a great variety— logical, grammatical, mathematical, moral,
sesthelical, and metaphysical, as well as those facts given in the experiences of sense and consciousness.
All these are discerned by that power which he called common sense, or sometimes judgment. The
nature and the conditions of this faculty he did not exactly define, nor its relations to other powers, the
laws of its acting, nor the character and place of its products. He was content to assert that there must be a
source of this kind of knowledge independent of experience, and that these first truths are to be received
upon its authority. Dugald Stewart followed Reid in insisting upon "fundamental laius of Human Be-
lief," and "original elements of Human Knowledge." He subjected to further analysis some of thosa
truths which were asserted by Reid to be original, and allowed to the law of association an influence which
Iteid had not recognized. Brown deviated materially from Reid and Stewart in attaching greater im-
§532.
THEORIES OF INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 52 J
portance, in his analysis of our conceptions, to the law of association. He resolved the relation of cause
and, effect into that of invariable antecedence and succession. He occasionally refers to some origina
belief or tendency to belief as necessary to explain our actual experience. He also distinctly recognizes
a faculty or power called relative suggestion, which of itself originates or discerns certain original rela-
tions ; making it, like Reid's judgment^ to be itself the originator and voucher for these original relation!
or categories. His system is not always congruous or consistent with itself, inasmuch as he attributes
greater authority at one time to the associational, and at another to the intuitional element.
In France, Royer Col.la.rd and Jouffroy followed in general the method and the doctrine*
of Iteid, with a more analytic scrutiny and a more systematic arrangement of the orig-
School *lia* ^a^a °^ knowledge. Each of these writers made some important improvements
upon the doctrines of their teachers.
Maine de Blran followed out the doctrine of Locke in respect to Reflection, and
attempted to find m Reflection the source of some important first truths. He went further than Locke in
this direction and borrowed from Leibnitz some important modifications of Locke's teachings in respect to
the nature of force, and the essential activity of the mind as a discoverer of original and independent
truth. Cousin sought to unite Reid, Collard, and Kant.
These writers might perhaps be more properly grouped together as belonging to a separate school —
the Scottish, or the Scottish and French School. But a more careful study of the doctrines of Locke reveals
the fact that in the latter part of the Essay, when he came to analyze and account for the ideas of rela-
tion, particularly of such primitive relations as substance, cause, and adaptation, he departs from the
doctrines which he was supposed to have laid down in the preceding chapters. He certainly did not place
that construction upon them which many of his disciples imposed alter his time. In accounting for these
original ideas, he seems to ascribe them directly to the intellect itself, and to an original power to discern,
and an original necessity to receive them as true. In short, without asserting, in form, any new source
of ideas, and without in the least abandoning his previous teachings— while in reply to the objections
which were brought against him for inconsistency, he earnestly defends his own consistency with himself
— he does in fact take the same ground with Reid and the Scottish School.
If this is a correct interpretation of Locke's real opinions, then Reid and his disciples are properly
connected with the school of Locke, notwithstanding their earnest polemic against some of the doctrines
which they supposed him to teach.
§ 532. 5. From Hume and Reid, who were antagonist disciples in the school of Locke,
we pass to the speculations of Kant and consider his views of first principles and the
School a categories. Kant, like Reid, was aroused by the skepticism of Hume to investigate the
foundations of knowledge. He saw that if the solution given by Hume of the relation
of causation were accepted and applied to others which are as original and fundamen-
tal, then scientific knowledge would be impossible, and religious faith would be unsupported by any ra-
tional foundations. He therefore set himself to the work of examining, by critical analysis, the intel-
lectual powers, to ascertain, if possible, whether knowledge d priori is necessary, and if so, what must be its
original elements and authority. The result of his critical inquiries was as follows : The human intelleot
may be considered as Sense, Understanding, and Reason, and to each of these powers or modes of action,
there are elements d priori. To the Sense, space and time must be assumed as d priori conditions. If
these are not thus assumed, neither perception nor consciousness could possibly gain the knowledge ap-
propriate to each. Moreover, unless the knowledge of both space and time is d priori, the mathematical
sciences would be impossible.
The Understanding is the power of generalizing and logical reasoning. To this, certain forms of
conception are also necessary as its d priori conditions, such as substance and attribute, and cause and effect.
Without these forms d priori, the processes of the Understanding would be impossible and their products
would be untrustworthy.
The Reason is the power by which we give unity to our knowledge of both material and spmtual
phenomena, as well in the several portions of each, as in these portions as mutually connected and related
in a universe. To this unifying process, there must be assumed, as necessary presuppositions, certain ideas
d priori, viz. : the soul, the world, and God. t
The d priori elements of our knowledge, according to Kant, are the receptivities of space and time
for the Senses; the forms or categories for the Understanding; and the ideas for the Reason. That these
elements are assumed and applied iu all our higher knowledge, was shown by Kant to follow necessarily
from the analysis of that knowledge which is gained by the intellect, and indirectly from the analysis of
the operations of the intellect themselves. These were the positive results of his psychological analysis.
But Kant raised another inquiry. Are these d priori and necessary assumptions themselves worthy
of confidence ? Are they true and do they hold good of the nature of things, or do they 6imply arise from
the constitution of the human intellect— a change in which might involve a change in these necessary rela-
tions and in the knowledge which is built upon them? To these questions of his own asking, Kant makes
the following reply : These assumptions have for man a regulative force, but perhaps only a relative truth
and validity. That is, while man must act in his intellectual processes under the belief that these prin-
ciples are primary and universal, and thus admit them as giving law to his own intellect, and as grounding
522 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 533.
and explaining all his knowledge, he is not authorized thereby to assume that they hold good as the laws
sf minds which may be supposed to be constituted differently from those of human beings, or that they
bold true of the knowledge which such beings acquire. On the one hand, we cannot deny that they dc
hold true for other beings and their knowledge ; and on the other, we cannot deny that they do not. Eoi
aught that we know, it may be true, that other beings may be so constituted as not to assume these prin-
ciples or to know by means of the relations which they involve. ¥e cannot affirm that there are such
beings. We cannot deny that these may be. "We cannot conceive how there should be. "We cannot imagine
intellectual processes that do not run back into these relations and principles, nor can we conceive of any
knowledge which is not held together by these relations, but we have no rational ground for denying
that both are possible.
This is the last result of the critical examination to which Kant subjected the speculative Reason.
These views have had extensive currency among the philosophers of Germany and England, and the
assertion of them has wrought like leaven, to stimulate inquiry and to excite to counter assertions.
Many who would not accept them have found it difficult to show their groundlessness or their untruth, in
part or in whole. Many philosophers who have followed Kant in his analysis of the foundations of our
knowledge, have felt themselves constrained to enter a special protest against these views, or to seek to
vindicate the counter theory.
§ 533. The only part of Kant's theory with which we are here concerned is the
Criticism of suggestion which he makes, that the relations and principles which we find to be
Kant's skeptical . . , , , • , ' . _ , . f , % ,
conclusions. original and assume to be true for our own thinking and knowledge, are not necessarily
true and valid for the thinking and knowledge of others.
Concerning this we observe :
(1.) It is a question of Speculative Philosophy or Metaphysics, and not at all a question
of Psychology. Psychologically considered, the views of Kant do not differ materially
The conclusion
lative. irom those of other philosophers in this, that certain truths must be received as uni-
versal and necessary, and that these are given to the mind d priori. It is one chief
object of his critique to show that such principles are not obtained by experience, but must be assumed in
order to make experience possible, as without them we could have neither experience nor science. So far
as the analysis of the powers, the processes, or the products of the human mind is concerned, Kant is, in
his general views, at one with all the best philosophers.
That which he subjoins to this ascertained result of psychological analysis, is the suggestion that this
may be true in human psychology only, and not in the psychology of other knowing beings. "Whatever
may be the probability or reasonableness of this suggestion, it is in no sense a psychological fact. It is
purely a philosophical thesis, to be urged and defended on speculative grounds , but which cannot in any
sense be paid to be given by the analysis of the workings of the souls of other possible races or kinds of
beings, or of the products which they have evolved.
(2.) This metaphysical suggestion or thesis is unsupported by any grounds of analogy
or probability. The facts which suggested the analysis are the known changes in the
a^lo°v Ga objects of sense-perception, which are connected with known changes in the organism
of the percipient or in the medium by which the percipient apprehends. These changes
are most conspicuous in vision. An object seen through a colored lens, be it red or
green or blue, is seen to be red or green or blue. In like manner, the color of objects is, to a limited ex-
tent, affected by changes in the physical condition of the eye. Some men, through disease, see objects
variously colored. Others are incapable of seeing any differences of color, or at best, only a few varieties.
Upon analogies derived from these facts, Kant justifies himself in asserting that there may or might
exist created or finite minds which know objects without the relations of time, space, substance, causality,
or design. To this it is enough to reply that the facts from which these suggestions are derived are phe-
nomena of the corporeal organism — while the acts and objects to which they are applied by way of analogy
pertain to the pure intellect. "We know moreover of the phenomena of the organism, that the corporeal
organism is a factor which, with material conditions, not only presents the object for the mind to perceive,
but makes it to be what it is to a certain extent, so that the object changes with its changing factors and
conditions. But to these thought or intellectual relations no such conditions are required. Certainly the
objects are not known to change with any conditions. So far as these relations are applied to material
beings it makes no difference what the objects are. Many are equally applicable to spiritual beings, and
their phenomena, products, and trustworthiness cannot be weakened or set aside by analogies derived
from material beings and phenomena.
All positive ground for finding or applying any analogies of the kind utterly fails.
(3.) The suggestion of Kant is inconsistent with, and overthrown by, the reach and
It is self - de- necessary use of some of these very relations which are brought into distrust. It is
structive and open to the charge of being an intellectual felo de se. For example, all the positive
suicidal. ground for the suggestion, founded upon an analogy which we have shown to be invalid
because irrelevant, rests upon one of thec-e first truths themselves, one of these very
original relations, which Kant subjects to metaphysical doubt, as to whether it may not be merely con-
tingent upon the human constitution. "We cannot but observe that the question which he raises, is whethei
§535.
THEOEIES OP INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 523
knowledge by these relations as a subjective process, and the relations themselves as an objective fact,
may not be and probably is, an effect of which the human constitution is a cause. "We notice also that the
reason by which he supports his suggestion is, that we are justified in so interpreting— which we have
shown is misinterpreting — certain signs or indications furnished by analogous phenomena. In this argu-
ment it will be obvious to all our readers who accept the analysis which we have given of induction, that
the assumptions which he contends are only regulative are used and applied by him as though they were
real. He certainly applies with entire confidence, the relations of cause and effect as necessarily and really
pertinent to the constitution of man as viewed by all beings, and wholly omits to notice that he has
already suggested that these relations as necessarily employed in human thinking, are merely contingent
upon the operation of that thinking, and may not belong to the constitution of the soul as viewed or
known by any other being, whether creature or Creator.
This is not all. Not only are they used as though they were real, but they are used as real in order
to prove that they are only regulative. He reasons thus : Upon the validity of the principles to which I
must conform as the laws of my human thinking, do I conclude that it is more than probable that they
are true of human thinking only. That is, in the very argument that they need apply only to the processes
and objects of human thinking, he applies them to both processes and objects of thinking which are not
human. How convincing and consistent such reasoning is it is easy to see.
§ 534. 6. From Kant to Hamilton the transition is natural, because the connection be*
Hamilton's Pos- t^een their views is most intimate. Hamilton, holds that our native cognitions are
itive and Nega- both Universal and Necessary. The Necessity of a cognition may, however, be of two
tive Necessity. species. It may be either Positive or Negative. It may either result from the power
of the thinking principle, or from the powerlessness of the same to think otherwise.
Of Positive Cognitions he says : " To this class belong the notion of existence and its modifications, the
principles of identity, contradiction, and excluded middle, the intuitions of space and time." All these
are discerned by the mind by a necessity which positively pertains to the objects discerned and in the
reality of which the mind absolutely confides.
To the other class belong the relations of Substance and Phenomena, and of Cause and Effect.
These are necessary through the imbecility of the mind to conceive of existence in any other way than
under these relations ; which necessity, however, is felt to result from the mind's imbecility to think
otherwise, and not to represent a positive relation. This necessity is only a special case of the application
of the more general law of the conditioned, which in its turn is described as the necessity which constrains
the mind to think of every object as a medium between two extremes, each of which are mutually con-
tradictories of one another and so both cannot be true, while yet the mind must think the object undei
one of the two.
The exposition and discussion of this Law of the Conditioned may be deferred till we consider its
application to the special conceptions and relations of Substance and Phenomena, and of Cause and Effect.
It is enough to say here, that if it mean any thing, it seems to be in its principle the same with the
doctrine of Kant, that certain cognitions are necessary to the mind because of its peculiar constitution,
which would no longer be so in case this constitution were changed or other than it is. They are there-
fore Regulative only, that is, they control the actions of the human mind and their products, because we
cannot avoid employing them, knowing all the while that we are obliged to do this because we are finite.
They are true relatively, i. e., true only in relation to our limited capacities.
TVe urge against it substantially the same objections to which the doctrine of Kant is liable, viz. :'
that we must use these very conceptions which are said to be merely Regulative and Relative, in the very
judgments which we form of the mind itself and its processes ; and again, its tendency is skeptical, like
that of Kant. It ought to be regarded with distrust if for no other reason than that it introduces contra-
diction between the decisions and dicta of the separate activities of the intellect.
§ 535. 7.*To meet, or rather, to shut off, the difficulties propounded by Kant, and in
The theory of parfc assented to bv Hamilton, Faith has been proposed as the source of certain original
Earth as con- ^ .. , J . ».■,.*««.«•,. , • x ^
trasted with conceptions and primary beliefs. Sometimes Jtelxng, or some act more akin to the
knowledge. emotive than to the intellectual powers, has been urged as the originator and voucher
of the primary beliefs, and indirectly of the knowledge which is built upon them. This
faith or feeling has most usually had for its object or objects, the Absolute or the Infinite, and the Uncon-
ditioned, rather than the special conceptions under which finite objects are thought by the mind and the
primary relations by means of which these objects are classified and connected. God, the Soul, Time,
Space, Immortality— have been usually the objects which it is asserted are received by this original assent
of Faith or Feeling. Sometimes the moral relations have been conceived as the direct object of the soul's
apprehension, together with God and the soul. The tendency to cut the knot which an intellectual analysis
has failed to untie, is most conspicuous as perpetually reappearing in the whole history of modern phi-
losophy. The need of an ultimate and decisive authority for our confidence in the actings of the soul, has
often prompted to a coup de main, by which some usurping power, under the fairest names, has seated
itself in the place of rule, and the usurpation has been acquiesced in for the time by the temporary peace
and order which has followed in the intellectual convictions and the received systems of science, morality
and theology.
524 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 535
Descartes, having vainly sought for some criterion of truth which should assure him
that his senses did not deceive him, and that his judgments in regard to his spiritua.
Le"cates operations might be trusted, found repose in the veracity and benevolence of the Great
Creator, of whose existence he was assured by the innate idea which attests both hi s
existence and his perfection. This being given, the cognitions and inferences of thn
intellectual faculty are to be trusted when they are properly tested by the criteria or norms which the
Creator himself has provided.
Kant, after despairing to find in the speculative Reason any warrant for trusting those
By Kant in his necessary cognitions which are universal to all men and assumed d priori as the con-
Practical Rea- ditions of all experience and all science, finds in the categorical imperative of the
son' Practical Reason a voucher for the law of Duty. Unconditional faith in Duty is the
corner-stone of his system, the only sure foundation which he can find among the ruins
into which he had disintegrated the structures of the merely speculative Intellect, and upon which he can
rebuild the same structure and make it compact and safe. Faith in Duty requires faith in God to defend
and reward Duty. Hence the same Practical Reason which commands us categorically (i. e., uncondition-
ally and without asking or finding reasons or grounds) to believe in Duty, commands us to believe there is
a true and perfect God. But such a God will not deceive his creatures. He is the voucher that we may trust
the speculative testimony of the Reason which he has constructed and created, concerning those conceptions
and relations which it originates and requires ; and that we may assign them the place which they take
and hold in our knowledge, not as being merely a priori assumptions under which we are obliged to think,
but as being fundamental truths which we must accept as real. By the Practical Reason we make these
forms of thought by which we must regulate our thinking, to become the representatives of those forma
of being which control the world of reality.
Jacobi felt the difficulties in which Kant involved himself and the minds of his gene-
By Jacobi un- ration, but was not content with the solution which he furnished. He adopted another,
der various ti- similar in principle, indeed, but slightly varied in its applications. To the power of
tles- apprehending that which is primarily and unconditionally true, he gave the names, at
first of Faith, afterwards of Feeling and the Revelation of the Divine, and last of all,
of Reason Proper. The objects which this power apprehends are neither primarily nor exclusively moral
relations, but the objects of sense and consciousness with the relations which they involve, as truly as
God, the Soul, and Immortality. These are all received by the direct faith of the soul, and this faith and
the truth of what it receives is the precondition of all analysis, inference and deduction. In all these
processes we simply distinctly analyze and clearly explicate what is given to faith impliedly and as a whole.
Jacobi simply asserted these principles as the foundation truths of all knowledge. He did not show
how they could be true or why we believe them. Indeed, he despaired of any such analysis. He did not
feel adequate to illustrate them in the detail ; but he rested in their truth.
Schleiermacher recognized feeling — the feeling of dependence— as the ground and medium
Schleiermach- °^ a^ *^e knowledge of the absolute that we can attain. But we cannot conceive of
er's feeling of God or define our concepts of him. All efforts in this direction, as well as their results,
dependence. are entirely inadequate and misleading. So far he is at one with Jacobi. "With him
he makes feeling or faith the ground of our apprehension of the Infinite and Divine.
In respect to our knowledge of and faith in the conceptions that are fundamental to finite knowledge — he
'would be foremost to assert that these are d priori conditions and assumptions of the intellect, and that
nature herself is constructed in correspondence with these forms of human thought. "We have therefore
the amplest ground for trusting the processes that are essential to our higher knowledge and the results to
which they conduct us. The relations of finite existence, including those of space and of time, of
substance and attribute, of cause and effect, were considered by Schleiermacher forms of existence, or real
forms in contradistinction to the subjective forms of Kant and Fichte and the notion forms of Hegel.
These are apprehended by the intellect directly, or, in the phraseology of his system, by the intellectual
function, to which, operating in connection with the organic function, all the forms of finite knowledge are
to be referred.
Some of the more recent German philosophers, as Chalybseus, Reiff, and preeminently
Lolze, rest their confidence in the fundamental assumptions of the human intellect, upon
C ha 1 y b a e u s, e^cai grounds. The questions propounded by Kant, viz. : ' Suppose after all that the
Reiff, and Lotze. . °, „ \ _. ,, .. .. . , * , ,, , ., ,. .
constitution of your nature should itself not be trustworthy when it causes and impels
you to think according to these original forms and fundamental assumptions ? Suppose
that there should be no reality in the relations or forms of things, which seem to correspond to the
relations or forms by which you think ? ' they answer thus : ' We must believe that nature is benevolent in
her indications and therefore true. ¥e assume that goodness and veracity regulate both the objective
relations of the universe which we study and the subjective constitution of the intellect which interprets
it. For these reasons we rely upon the categories of both thought and being, and learn and think in
accordance with them, trusting the results which we gain.'
§538.
THEORIES OP INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 525
As Hamilton (as we have seen), in his views of the extent and limits of our knowledge,
This theory followed both Kant and Schleiennacher, so he borrowed from both the required solu-
sanctioned by tion. While he asserts that we cannot think the infinite and unconditioned, because te
Hamilton also. think is to limit and to condition, he concedes that we know the same. But when askei
how ? he replies, by faith. "We must believe it to be. Tbe extremes of our knowledge,
between which we form our concepts — and out of the relations of which we form our concepts— we must
believe exist and are related to one another. The fact of their necessary existence we receive by a direet
insight, which he calls both faith and knowledge. He borrows from Kant conceptions that are appropriate
to the Practical Reason — so far at least as ethical distinctions, moral liberty and a personal G-od are con-
cerned. From Jacobi he adopts the term faith in application to tbe whole subject. With the doctrine of
Schleiermaker the details of his theory of the Unconditioned are closely allied. Cf. Hamilton, Met. Lee,
38. Also, Appendix v. Letter to Calderwood,
That which gives plausibility to the doctrine that Faith or Feeling is the ultimate
"Reasons why it ground of this kind of knowledge is that it is not received by any act of conscious
is plausible. assent to propositions, of which the elementary concepts are first distinctly apprehended
apart and then united, but the mind is impelled to form separate concepts by means of
and under certain general relations. The belief or conviction that prompts to this is
developed to the mind when it reflects upon what it finds itself performing. Hence the act is called faith
in opposition to and in distinction from judgment, the last being supposed to involve analysis as well as
combination. Ethical and religious objects are those which most frequently bring it into exercise, and
these invariably excite more or less feeling. Hence the special source of these convictions is conceived as
something not intellectual, and the terms faith and feeling are applied to it. The oversight lies in making
these terms to imply that the act is not intellectual. It is preeminently an intellectual act and power, for
it conditions all the special acts and cognitions of which the intellect is capable.
§ 536. 8. The immediate successor of Kant was J. G. Fichte, whose system was pro-
posed as a modification and improvement of that which was taught in the Critique of
J. G. Fichte. the Pure Reason. Fichte derived all knowledge, the materials as well as the forms, the
& posteriori and the a priori, from the activity of the Ego. Every thing which the
mind knows, being as well as relations, so far as it is known, is the work of the Ego,
and evolved from its own creative activity.
So far as the categories of thought are concerned, Fichte endeavors to show that each one of them is
necessarily involved in the several concrete creative acts by which the Ego constructs for itself the known
universe. Its first act is to affirm its own being. But in that it must apply and evolve the law or relation
of identity, A= A. Its second act is to affirm the non-ego. But this in like manner involves the law of
contradiction, (A) is not (non-A). The third is to recognize the indivisible Ego as opposed to a divisible
non-Ego. This involves the reciprocal activity of each on the other, and this implies the relation of
Causative efficiency. The other relations are all evolved in a similar way by the productive activity oi
the Ego, together with the non-Ego which this activity calls forth. Time and space, substance and
attribute, reality, possibility and necessity, etc., etc., are all accounted for by the creative activity of
the Ego, as it proceeds from the simpler to the more complex processes and products of human knowl-
edge.
§ 537. 9. Schelling follows Fichte— by the effort to mediate between him and Kant— so
Schelline's ^ar as ^° Provlde for a common origination and relationship for the subjective and ob-
view of the cat- jective. His intellectual intuition recognizes at first the indifference of both, from
egories. which it develops in correspondence to one another the forms of thought and the forms
of being. The authority for the categories in this double application must be in this
intuition which affirms them to be common to the two. In his later philosophy, which was modified to
avoid and displace the logical idealism of Hegel, Schelling assumes the reality of concrete and actual
being, and teaches the mind's competence to originate and affirm necessary and original relations only in
their application to and by occasion of supposed concrete knowledge. For this reason he asserted for
these d priori relations and for philosophy itself, what he called only a negative value.
§ 538. 10. Hegel substituted thought for Schilling's intellectual intuition, i. e., that
mental activity which produces and is concerned with the concept or logical notion ; but
of mire thought made a fatal mistake by conceiving that thought, viz., abstract thinking could be ex-
plained independently of concrete knowledge and actual being, and that the former
could explain the latter by the relations of pure or abstract thought. He was therefore
compelled, by logical consistency, to endeavor to evolve and explain every form of actual being by the
development or evolution of the notion from within itself.
The categories or the original and necessary relations of knowledge, according to Hegel, are all the
relations which are necessarily evolved in the process by which simple, i. c, abstract being is developed
into all the forms of thought and existence, and through them all, till the absolute is attained, i. e., till the
process is complete and with it the cycle of the original relations or categories which are required for its
evolution.
526 THE HUMAN- INTELLECT. §541.
§ 539. 11. According to Herbart, some of the categories are the products of the
action and reaction of ideas. They are not the necessary laws or forms of the
Herbart s mind's knowledge, but are the growth and result of its psychological functions as deter-
mined by the laws which govern the formation and mutual action of the results of the
impressions made upon the soul by matter, and the soul's reaction against them.
These results are perceptions or representations. Concepts, or general notions, arise only when a number
of similar objects have been perceived. In their struggle for reappearance the differing elements crowd one
another out of view, and only those are apparent which, being alike, reinforce one another, and so survive
the struggle. The conceptions of Space and Time are series of reproduced objects, the parts of which
are more or less indistinct, as they stand related to the here and the now. A thing or being and its
attributes, is either an original whole analyzed into its constituent parts, giving the attribute of quality,
or a whole with its attendant series of time and space accompaniments giving the attribute of quantity.
The successful connection of these attendant parts or accessory series is affirmation— the unsuccessful ia
negation— both these involve the two forms of judgment or the apprehension of relations.
The relations of substance to attributes and of cause and effect are inconsistent with the logical laws
of identity and contradiction, which are assumed by Herbart to be original and independent laws of
thought. To remove these inconsistencies is the object of his metaphysical system. This he essays to do
by " the method of relations." It would seem that the logical laws are the only categories, properly con-
sidered, which Herbart accepts, for the reason that these logical criteria are applied by him as the fixed
rules and original measures by which every other relation is tried and tested.
§ 540. 12. Trendelenburg has not only subjected the doctrines of Hegel and Herbart to
Trendelen- an acute and comprehensive criticism, and in so doing has vindicated that realism
burg's theory of which is equally essential to the common sense of every-day life aud the scientific confi-
motion. dence of the inductive schools, but he has given special prominence to the importance
of final cause in its relations to the sciences of nature, as well as to metaphysical and ethi-
cal truth. He has been equally successful in criticising the speculations of such as derive the catego-
ries from the necessary and independent relations of pure thinking, and the dogmas of those who find
their origin in the empirical processes of psychological experience or the formalistic dicta of an irrespon-
sible logic. But most of all has he been distinguished for the ingenious and able derivation of the cate-
gories of thought and being, of spirit and matter, of space and time, from that universal and all-pervading
motion which is common to all. Those who hesitate to accept his dogma in every application which he
makes of it, will not question that he has at least made good the thesis that physical motion and its mental
analogon furnish the ultimate elements that are employed in the constructions of the creative imagina-
tion and of synthetic thought ; that motion contributes the material by which mathematical creations and
metaphysical definitions can be represented in language and enshrined in those definitions and propositions
by which they are the permanent possessions of the race.
CHAPTER in.
FORMAL RELATIONS OR CATEGORIES.
Following the classification of categories or intuitions which we have adopted and explained
(§ 524), we begin with those which we have defined as formal. These are so-called
because they are involved in every form of knowledge : they are essential to its very
form, and are therefore called formal. Whatever may be the mode of an act of knowl-
edge subjectively viewed, or whatever may be that with which it is occupied when
objectively considered, it must involve these relations in its very nature and essence.
They are not the less real than the other relations, but they do not require real objects in
order that they should exist. A represented image, a mathematical construction, and a
thought-concept not only admit but require them, and they are common and essential to
them all.
§ 541. The intuition with which we begin is the intuition of
The^atcgory of Mn^ This win be readiiy acknowledged to be the most
extensive of all in its application, and therefore fundamental
§ 542. FOEMAL RELATIONS OE CATEGOEIES. 527
to all others. Every thing which we know, we know to exist. To know
is impossible and inconceivable, if it does not involve the certainty that
that which is known, exists or is. Being is the correlate of knowledge.
Hence, this concept is apparently fundamental to all others.
^dlmrataf186 I* belongs to every object with which the mind has to do in
knowledge, and it belongs to each with equal propriety — to
Him whom we call, in the poverty of our languages, the Being of beings,
and to the most transient and trivial creation of the humblest of his
creatures ; to the universe in the most comprehensive meaning of the term,
and to the mathematical point which is the product of the thought of a
moment. It is applied to actual existences, to intellectual creations, whether
individual or universal ; to all things and to all thoughts.
The beings that are known are of different sorts, and they are known b\
Beings of differ- different modes of apprehension. There are beings spiritual, and beings
ent sorts. material. In each of these classes there are beings which remain for ages,
and those which exist only for an instant. But the difference in the kind
and the endurance of that which is, does not make the object any the less to exist. Being as
properly belongs to the one as to the other.
We sometimes dignify the being which, is independent and permanent with the as sertion that this only
or truly has being, or only and truly is ; but this is by a metaphor only, and does not in the least affect the
proper import of the term or of the concept for which it stands. The positive existence of the object, but
neither its dignity nor its duration, is expressed by the word.
The nature and import of being is not at all affected by the manner in which
Being appre- ft js apprehended or known to exist. Some being is known by direct sense-
h ended m differ- rj^ .
ent ways. perception or immediate consciousness ; in other words, by presentative
knowledge. Other being is known by indirect or representative knowledge,
as the moon that is pictured by the mind, or that is generalized as a concept. In represented
being, it is presented being which is recalled or generalized. The being which is directly
known as actually knowable or as possibly existing is always supposed or implied as giving
interest and import to that which is recalled. The moon which we picture, is pictured as an
actually existing moon. The scene which we remember or imagine, is remembered or im-
agined as an actually occurring scene. Even the mathematical entity which we construct,
or the general concept which we frame, must be carried back to some concrete being or
beings to be interpreted and understood.
§ 542. It is the most abstract of all possible concepts.
stract of In the After every property or relation which we know of an
object is set aside from any existing thought or thing, there
remains the affirmation it is. This cannot be thought away. For this
reason it is logically the first or the most elementary of all concepts. As
it is the last which we reach by analysis, it is the first with which our
synthesis begins.
Concrete or presented being, gives all its meaning to abstract or represented
Explained by being. The mind interprets generalized being by its previously experienced
concrete being. Qr jtg tacitly assumed knowledge of presented being. Hegel begins the
development and explanation of our real knowledge with the concept of being
in the abstract, and seeks to construct and develop from this the conceptions and knowledge
528 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §544,
of real existence, and the relations which it involves. In doing this, he is obliged to interpret
his meaning by a tacit assumption of that which he formally ignores and denies — i. e., to draw
upon direct and presented knowledge for the interpretation of the conceptions and relations
which he professes to develop and account for. The attempt is vain ; the method is false ;
the problem is impossible. There is no knowledge of being, or of the relations of being in
general or in the abstract, except by means of knowledge in the concrete.
Psychologically, the knowledge of being in the concrete precedes that of
SncreUKg^s Deir|g in tne abstract. We know individual beings before we know being as
first apprehend- a concept. We perceive individual things by sense ; we are conscious of
our individual ego and its individual states ; we remember and imagine these
and other individual entities long before we comprehend them or any group of them as under
the general concept being. Even if it be conceded that, to the infant perception, the material
'iniverse presents itself as one undistinguished and undivided being, it would be known as an
vidual ; the one universe and not as generalized.
Logically, or, more properly, metaphysically, the concept being is the first
Logically it ig and most fundamental of all the concepts, because it is the most extensively
fundamental . applied, and is the highest of our generalizations (§ 523). But it cannot be
understood as a concept, except by our knowledge of individual objects. To
begin with the concept in the abstract, excluding that knowledge which interprets and makes it
clear, is literally to begin with nothing. To attempt to develop from it actual being, is to
give an example by failure, of the truth, ex nihilo nihil jit I
The apprehen- § 543. The knowledge of being is expressed by judgments
pr^sedkJpropo- or propositions, the subjects of which are whatever is known
sitions. ^y any single acts of the intellect. We tacitly assert or
think of every such object it or this, is or exists. We afterward general-
ize that which is predicated under the concept — being.
Being or existence is not, however, an attribute or a relation, though it is
Being not a re- conceived or treated as such when it is thus generalized. It is obvious that
bute. being must be assumed in order that an attribute or relation may be
known. Relations without beings related, or the knowledge of relations or
attributes without the knowledge of beings to which these relations or attributes belong, are
impossible and inconceivable. When being is generalized, however, it is treated as a property
or attribute of each concrete existence of which it is affirmed. We say and think this or that
has being or existence. We say it is an existing thing. We even turn it into an
ahstractum, as we do other properties and relations, and speak of beingncss or entity. Yet
the incongruity of the language and of the conception is apparent when we undertake to carry
it out by affirming entity or beingness of an object.
§ 544. Like every intuition, being cannot be defined — i. e.9
it^cannot be de- analyzed or resolved into any more elementary constituents.
It can be described, however, by means of the conditions or
circumstances under which ifc is present to the mind. When we ask,
What is being ? we cannot answer in the way of definition. But we can
say, whenever we know we apprehend being. In every act of knowledge
is involved assent to, or certainty of being. By knowing we are in a
situation to understand, though we cannot define, the import of the con-
cept. *
g 545. POEMAL RELATIONS OR CATEGORIES. 529
The act of knowing is supposed to be more familiar than the concepts which it implies.
We exercise this activity more frequently and more readily than we reflectively analyze its
known objects. For this reason we explain the concept being by the act which implies and
contains it. When we closely consider what to know involves, we find that the apprehension
of being must always be implied in the act of knowledge.
It was said (§ 390) that all concepts are founded on attributes or relation?
It is conceived generalized, and that the only difference between nouns and adjectives arises
an attribute. '• from their use and not their meaning ; the same content being present in
every case — a content of attributes only. How, then, it might be urged, is it
possible that there should be any concept of being at all if being is not only not an attribute,
but is the direct contrast of an attribute and must be supposed to make an attribute conceivable
or possible ? This inquiry has in part been answered. In order to be turned into a concept,
being is treated as an attribute ; it is predicated of the individuals to which it belongs as
though it were a predicable. The attempt is made to define — i. e., to describe it by its
relation to the act of knowledge, or the activity of the knowing agent. The word being, in
its etymology, is also taken from some one of the attributes of those existences which are
the most permanent — which existences or entities are conceived as having the best right or
claim to be so used, as to stand, etc., etc.
§ 545. Simple being is a concept wholly indeterminate. It
terminate con- stands for it self and for not^g besides. Being elementary
and logically original, it can be resolved into no other, and,
of course, can be defined by no other. It is supposed in every other. It
must be assumed to determine every other. We must begin with being,
before we can add a single characteristic to make it a concept more definite.
This is what Hegel had in mind in his assertion : Being or entity is equal to
Hegel makes be- nothing. It is equivalent to a notion without content. As an abstract Gon-
mg equal to a ^
nothing. ception, it has no relations to any other concept, and consequently no attri-
butes ; it is wholly undefined. By viewing it as abstracted from all concrete
import, it has no content at all ; it means nothing ; all its meaning must lie in its relation to
some other concept, and until it is viewed in such a relation it has no positive import at all.
That Hegel was wrong in this assertion, will be shown in its place. We notice here only what
he must have had in mind.
Being, the un determinate, immediate object of knowledge, is in fact nothing, no more nor less.
Nothing is [has] the same determination, or rather, absence of determination with, and, for that reason,
is equivalent to simple entity. Logic, vol. i p. 22. Encyc, p. 101.
The common sense of man which resists the doctrine that being and nothing are identical, and ap-
peals to some object of experience immediately present, finds in this very object some determinate beings
that is being with a negation, i. e., the very unity which it rejects. Log. vol. i. p. 30. Encyc, p. 406.
But though being, as a concept, and in its relation to other concepts, is
Not without indeterminate, it is not without signification. It is taken from and affirmed
signification. 0f an(j jnterpreted by, individual beings which we actually know by direct
knowledge. The formation and use of this concept presupposes and rests
aponthis knowledge. Though abstract being, as a concept, is elementary, undefined, and equal
to non-entity, yet, as related to individual beings, it signifies something positive, and, indeed,
many positive somethings. Though being denotes no particular thing, it does not denote
a thing actually not existing — non-entity — but is equally applicable to every positive — i. e. to
all entities whatsoever.
34
530 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. g 547.
§ 546. Referring to our analysis of the act of knowing, we
DiySi?y!up' ^n^ tnat ^ involves the discernment of relations as truly and
as essentially as it does the apprehension of being. This
introduces to us relationship in its widest acceptation. But relationship
involves diversity and distinguishability in the concept produced, and
negation or distinction as the judgment or proposition by which it is
discerned and affirmed.
Two entities — i. 6., objects apprehended — are essential to the apprehen-
sion of a connecting relation. But if the two are known, they must be
distinguished — i. e., known as different from each other, in order that
they may be again connected. The knowledge of objects, as different or
diverse, must always be present with the apprehension of any other rela-
tion.
It follows that the relation which is the most extensive of all
molt extensive!6 others, is the relation of diversity or difference. It is always
present with every other. It may not always be distinctly
recognized, but it is always recognizable in every positive relation, whether
formal, mathematical, or real.
The same truth is asserted in the proposition, that every act of knowledge is at once an
act of analysis and of synthesis. In every single act of knowledge we separate — i. e., dis-
tinguish— in order that we may combine. We can only unite so far as we separate.
This truth is confirmed, if we refer to various kinds or species of knowledge. In each
Present in all °^ tiiese we distinguish as we unite. In sense-perception we distinguish colors, sounds,
forms of knowl- tastes, feels, and gather them into one ohject. In consciousness we distinguish the
&<^Se' actor from the act, and both from the object, and unite them somehow in a single men-
tal experience. Certainly we place them together in a single undivided instant of time.
In memory and generalizing, in deduction and induction, we unite what we have already distinguished,
or what we distinguish in the act of uniting.
We repeat what has been already laid down, that entities, in order to be distinguished, need not
exist apart, i. e., not in the common sense of the term to exist. The angles and sides of a triangle can-
not exist nor be constructed apart from each other, and yet they can be most readily distinguished.
The moon which I picture in the mind cannot exist except by the act of the mind which imagines it,
the attribute cannot exist apart from the substance to which it belongs, the cause cannot act as a cause
without passing into the effect ; but all these are readily distinguished the one from the other.
Our analysis of Being, i. e., of Being as a concept or Being in general, has compelled us to recog-
nize also Being in the concrete, or individual Being, and the one as related to the other, the one as sup-
posing the other, and the one as explaining the other. In this explanation two relations are supposed,
those of diversity and of similarity. If there is more than one concrete Being, one is diverse from the other.
If both are alike Beings, i. e., are comprehended under the concept Being, they must be alike at least in that
they are both knowable. In brief, diversity and similarity are everywhere present.
§ 547. We return to diversity and negation. The relation
proportion.™ a °f difference or diversity is expressed by the proposition,
this "being is not that. A is not B, or B is not A ; the color
is not the taste, the taste is not the color ; the pictured moon is not the
mind, the mind is not the moon which it pictures. I am not the object
seen or tasted, etc., etc. It does not signify with which of the objects we
begin — which of the two we treat as the subject, and which as the predi-
cate of the proposition.
§ 547. FORMAL RELATIONS OR CATEGORIES. 531
The act of mind which we express by the proposition, is called an
act of denial or negation; i. €., when the relation of difference is expressed
in the form of a proposition, the act is an act of negation. The natural
form of a positive judgment is also the proposition, which is of course
affirmative.
It will be remembered that these propositions are all individual propo-
sitions, and that none of them are or can be general. The individual goes
before the general in these propositions of relation, as in all others.
From the recognition and affirmation of relations are evolved
Relative no- , .
ticms. Negative what are called relative concepts or notions. From the
notions. . .. -,.-, -i . n t
negative propositions which express the relation of diversity
are produced what are termed negative concepts.
No sooner is A distinguished from B, than we can apply to it the
negative notion of not-B. In the same way reciprocally, the negative
notion not-A can be affirmed of B. These notions are purely relative.
The whole content or import which they express, is limited to the single
relation in which they stand to the other object, which other object, A or
B, as the case may be, is supposed to be positively known.
In like manner, other relative notions may be formed, as if we take a substance and it
puts us to sleep, we conceive the unknown something which produces this effect as sleep-
making ; that is, we need know it no further than by its relation to this effect. The only
notion which we have of it may be purely relative to the known effect.
The negative relation, as indeed any relative notion, is at first apprehended as
At first individ- individual, and then generalized. No sooner is A pronounced to be not-B,
generalized! ' ^ian we proceed to apply this to C, D, E, F, etc., as well as to A — indeed, to
all objects except B itself. We need know nothing more of them than that
they are, to be justified in classing them all as not-Bi, or in affirming of them the negative
concept thus generalized. This is the ground of the division of all real and conceivable things
by dichotomy, as it is called.
It will be observed, however, that negation expresses a relation between two actual
beings, or two beings treated or conceived as real. It supposes two positives known or
conceived, each of which is thought as related negatively to the other.
But after the relation of diversity has been acquired by or developed to the mind, it is
possible to attach it to any single notion positively known, without cognizing any object which
it designates. For example : To any notion as chalk, marble, white, merciful, financial,
spiritual, the negative particle may be attached, indicating some reality or realities diverse
from this positive ; as the negatively relative notion, not-chalk, not-marble, not-white, not-
merciful, not-financial, not-spiritual. The concept, in its import, includes only diversity from
the several positives known. But it implies that there are or may be other positives which
belong under it or to its extent. It is sometimes said that the mind can form a positive notion
of a negative object. A closer inspection will show that a positive notion of a negative object
or of a pure negation, is impossible. A negative object or negative term indicates only some
real or possible object or objects in a negative relation.
We can, indeed, form a negative notion of every object positively known, by attaching
to it a negative particle ; but we do this on the supposition that it represents some positive
objects that are knowable because they are real.
532 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 547
The concept nothing — nonentity, is a purely relative concept. All beings ot
The concept entities> whether real or imaginary, are grouped under the most general of
nothing. all concepts. To this is attached the relation of negation. What is express-
ed, is the proposition that the concept is exhaustive, and that it is impossible
to conceive or believe in any thing beside, i. e., should the mind attempt to form a concept of any
object not included under being, it would not succeed : there is not an object to which the con-
cept could be applied : there is not a thing, not a being, not an entity besides. By a fiction
of speech and of imagination, this proposition is contracted into the concept nothing — nonentity
— as though there were a really existing object negatively related to being.
When Hegel asserts that the concept being or entity equals nothing in its
Hegel's view of imPort> ne ^as m mind that it is a concept which cannot be analyzed into any
nothing. constituent concept or thought-element : it is therefore unrelated to any
other ; it is undetermined : it has no notional or conceptual import. So far
from being true that this concept has no import, no concept has an import so extensive. Its
import is found in the various forms of direct knowledge, which give the material and meaning
to every concept, and a reference to which is supposed every time the concept being is used.
The nothing or nonentity by which Hegel seeks in a sense to define the concept Being or Entity, is
simply the concept itself viewed in its relation to every other concept, and also to every object of direct
and individual knowledge. It is simply the proposition contracted into a concept, that being or entity, is
the most general of all concepts,and cannot be analyzed into, or resolved by any concept more general than
itself; or the proposition that abstract or generalized being must not be confounded with concrete or indi-
vidual being,— being in the second intention is not being in the first intention ; or it maybe it is both these
propositions united into one.
The error of Hegel lies in attempting to begin the analysis and development of knowl-
The error of edge and of thought even, with thought itself or mediate knowledge, instead of begin-
Hegel. ning with knowledge that is immediate, as the order of natural production and of
psychological acquisition would direct. This error involves the fiction of a possible de-
velopment of both thought and existence from thought or mediate knowledge only, of an evolution of all
being, and all forms of being from the mere formal concept of being in general, which by the very definition
is confessed to be empty or void, i. e., mere nonentity. It involves the still more obvious fiction of a per-
petual becoming or self-evolution of concept from concept, which is conceived to arise from, or to be equiva-
lent to, or explained as, the vibration between being and nothing, and nothing and being ; all the meaning
or reality of which must come from that for which it is dexterously substituted, i. e. from the real operations,
forces and motions of the actual universe. That there can be no evolution of one notion from another has
already been shown, § 523. The original intuitions and relations out of which concepts are generalized, dif-
fer from one another really in their greater or less extent of application to objects, not at all in the relations
of content or import. The content of one is conceived to be developed from the content of another because,
when arranged in the gradations of a logical system, being stands highest or most general of all, and cer-
tain other concepts stand lower, and others lower. Hence it is conceived that the notions arranged below
those which are higher, are in fact developed from them by an independent movement of self-evolution be-
longing to the more general concept as such.
In other words, because the concept being is the sumtnum genus among concepts, it is taken
to*be the originator of all other concepts. Not only so, it is held, by the same law of self-
evolution, to be the originator of things or actual beings. The failure of the attempt, and the
absurdity of the theory on which it rests is manifest when the effort is made to cross over
from the notion world to the real world ; when the effort is essayed to evolve time and space,
matter and spirit from concepts only. The effort seems to be successful only because the real
world with its relations is ever ready at hand behind the concept world which symbolizes it,
to furnish the signification which is required. Real being, and real relations are very easily
confounded with the generalized concepts of the same. The two are easily interchanged, and
it is by a kind of intellectual juggling or sleight-of-hand that any success appears to be
attained, or any conviction is produced.
The Histoiy of Philosophy records two theories similar to that of Hegel, both, like his,
Xenophanes and being founded upon the confusion of abstract or notional entity with the concrete or
Bpinoza. individual being and it3 relations which it symbolizes. They were the theories of the
schools of Xenophanes and Spinoza. Both these philosophers reasoned that because tho
§548. FOEMAL RELATIONS OR CATEGORIES. 533
eoncept Being was equally applicable to all actual beings, therefore there was but one being actually exist-
ing, and that was the sum total of all beings, the to £v mm. nav. In the case of the first school, the specula*
tions were vaguely conceived and crudely defined. In the school of Spinoza, the theory was rendered
more plausible by his reasoning from the definition of substance furnished by Descartes, § 656, and by his
clear conception and his emphatic enforcement of the truth that no finite being can be independent ol
any other for the beginning or continuance of its existence. Hegel seemed to give the finishing stroke to the
argument, when he contended that not only the existence, but even the conception of a finite being in-
volves the knowledge of its relations to all other so-called finite beings ; and as actual existence is but the
rational result of an ideal or mental conception of the evolution of the whole, so each finite being exists only
is it is evolved from and by the whole.
Diversity or negation is applied to a being as distinguished from its relations, to one
relation as distinguished from another relation, and also to one being as distinguished from
another by means of its relations. While it is true that one being, whether material or
spiritual, is distinguished from another by intuition or direct inspection ; it is also true that in
the most important parts and uses of our knowledge, we employ relations only, and especially
those similar relations by which beings are united under concepts. These last are the essential
products and media of all thought-knowledge, the conditions of language, and the aim and
achievement of all science.
This introduces us to the category of substance and attribute.
Substance and , ttt
attribute for- so far as it is merely abstract and formal We have already
mally conceiv- . . ■ >, -_ ■■' . , ,.
ed. seen m our analysis of the formation and application ot the
concept, that it presupposes similar, and therefore common relations;
and that these are singly and in combination affirmable of things which are
diverse in the content or essence by which they are denned, and in the
extent of beings to which they may be applied.
Whenever a being is thought of, i. e., is distinguished from another being
by the number and the extent of its relations, then we have the rela-
tion of substance and attribute in its abstract form. What it is in
the concrete, and what is the true import of a material and spiritual sub-
stance, we will inquire after we have considered the several categories,
both mathematical and real, by which these two descriptions of beings
are characterized, Chap. VII. We are at present concerned with it only
in the abstract, and as a formal relation.
We notice however, that diversity or difference pertains to a concept as truly as to an
individual, to a logical essence as properly as to an actual being. Whatever be the object
distinguished, however unlike any other in its being or relations ; or whether the diversity
belongs to the being or its relations, diversity is properly applied to it. The sense or mean-
ing in which one object is diverse from another should, however, always be kept in view.
§ 548. The relation of diversity with its several applicat*^'
identity? 1C suggests the relation of identity. In affirming that A is
B, or is diverse from B, we are prepared to affirm that A
identical with itself. When we apprehend that A is not B, or thab
A is not B in some one particular, we can hardly fail to apprehend
that it is the same as itself. That the mind comes to the distinct recog-
nition of this relation at an early period of its development, and makes fre-
quent application of it afterwards, is too obvious to need confirmation.
That the relation is original, and is intuitively discerned, is almost equally
534 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §548.
clear. To attempt to explain it by or to resolve it into any other rela-
tion is to fail.
Let it be supposed, as many hold, that the first object to which it is applied
Affirmed of men- is the soul itself, as distinguished from the diverse acts and states of which it
fcal existence. js consciOUS- ^s the ego distinguishes itself from its changing states, it knows
that the states are varying, but the ego is the same. In doing so, it must
compare itself at one time with itself at another, or itself in one state with itself in another.
If this knowledge is expressed in a proposition, the ego in one state and at one time is the
subject — the ego at another time and in another state is the predicate coupled with the sameness
affirmed. The sameness however is predicated of the same real object. The occasion which
excites to its affirmation is described by the diverse form or time under which it is pre-
sented to the mind.
This would by some philosophers he held to be a contradiction in terms, an offence against the law
of identity itself, because, as it is alleged, the subject and predicate should be terms exactly convertible.
That this is a false and narrow view of the nature of predication, and of the law of identity, see P. III. c. v.
Or it may be that Identity is affirmed of a material object, as of a house, or a
' • , . ship, a tree, or a horse. In such cases the objects are perceived at different
Or of material. . , , „ , . „ , ™,
times at least, and are often changed in form, appearance and properties. The
test or standard of identity may be real and natural, or it may be conventional
and factitious. But the relation itself is not thereby altered. It is properly expressed by a
proposition, thus : the object now perceived, or in any form or appearance, is the same as the
object perceived formerly, or under a different form and aspect.
Identity may also be applied to a purely mental product. Often it is inter-
Ofapurelymen- changed with similarity, or the sameness is transferred from the object
tal product. which is mentally transcribed or pictured, e. g., I have a similar image or con.
cept now of the same object which I previously imagined or thought, as of the
same horse, or of horses similar to him in all essential particulars. When the concept is said
to be the same, in all times and in all ages, it is not necessary that it should be formed by all
men from the same individuals, but it is meant that the similarity between the individual
objects is so perfect that one individual may be substituted for another in forming it, and that
it may be applied to one as freely and as properly as to another, so that for all the purposes
of thought and reasoning and scientific knowledge it is as though the individual objects were
the same.
It is in this last sense that identity is so conspicuous in logic and philosphy, viz., in the re-
lations of a concept to a concept. It is the identity of a concept with its content in propositions
of definition, or of a concept with its extent in propositions of division, or of the two as cor-
related, to which the laws of identity and contradiction in books of logic are applied. The
extension of these laws to other kinds of identity and difference has wrought indescribable
confusion and error of thinking.
The principle or law of identity is, in books of logic, con-
Theiawofiden- nected with the law of contradiction and the law of ex-
tity, etc. in logic. „ , . .
eluded middle, and the three are set forth as the three
fundamental laws or principles of thought. To secure us against the con-
fusion and error of which we have spoken, the inquiry is of great
interest and importance, what relation have these laws of thought to
the intuitions of identity and diversity ? In answer to this inquiry we
may say :
§ 549. FORMAL RELATIONS OR CATEGORIES. 535
Concern the re- These laws of thought concern the relations of concepts to
caep?8 to cCo°n- concepts ; the intuitions in question concern the relations oi
eepts. beings and things. But as the relations of concepts to con
cepts are in the last analysis resolved into and founded upon the
relations of things, it is manifest that the purely logical principles or
laws cannot be received as fundamental. They are the axioms of logical
thinking, but not necessarily the rules for every form and mode of knowl-
edge. In logic and thought-knowledge they are such practical rules, or
principles from which those rules are derived, as have been found necessary
from the dangers to which men are exposed in the use of concepts,
from the various forms of expression in which both concepts and their
relations are phrased.
The law of identity is designed to avoid a twofold danger in
tity 1 u arTs the use of concepts and terms. We are tempted to suppose,
fogiddanger. w< on the one hand, because the diction is altered, that the
concepts, propositions, and reasonings are changed, or, on the other, we
hastily conclude that two different phrases are equivalent in meaning.
To avoid this double exposure we are held by this law to the necessity and
tTses^and aims tne <juty 0f aiways using and maintaining our concepts in the same import,
identity. and of being certain that we mean the same thought when we use the same
or equivalent language. Of our concepts, it is only those which are complex
which can be tried and tested by this law ; and these can be tested both in their content and
extent. In its application to the content it asserts that a concept is, for purposes of logic, the
same with the sum of its constituting elements : A=(a, b, c, d, and e) ; i. e., all these being taken
together, the one is convertible with the other. When applied to the relation of extent,
it asserts that the concept as genus is identical with the total of its contained species or sub-
ordinate parts. When content and extent are both recognized in any use, then identity in
both these particulars is to be respected. To make the logical law of identity a mere mean-
ingless truism, as A is A, or a concept in the same form of diction is identical with itself;
is inept and absurd.
It is true, as has been said, that in the last analysis logical relations are founded upon
real relations, or the relations of concepts upon the relations of things. The principle
onreal identity6 °^ ^entity "* ^0S^C nas ^a meaning and its use from the assumption that in nature aud
the constitution of things there are the same powers (i. e., similar), the same causes,
the same ends, and the same laws, and that these are represented to the mind in the
same concepts with a fixed content and extent. The identity of concepts or logical identity is derived
from a special application of that relation of identity which is intuitional and original.
§ 549. A similar remark may be made of the logical axiom
SadSnf °on" or law of contradiction : A is not not-A. This is only a
generalized application of the intuition of difference to any
concept whatever, taken in both extent and content. A thing or a con-
cept is not another, it is not any one of the things or concepts from which
it differs, nor all of them united. Expressed as a rule it requires " it should
never be confounded with them, or substituted for them."
536 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §550.
The law of excluded middle is but another application of
Excluded middle, the intuitions of difference and identity when generalized.
It is, every B is either A or not-A. When A is distin-
guished from not-A, it is then discerned by reflection that these two di-
vide the extent of all conceivable existences into two classes. This truth
is then stated as a principle ; which is ready to be used as a law whenever
it is required to guard or correct our thinking.
§ 550. Much evil has resulted from the error of taking these three logical laws as the original and the
only laws of our knowledge.
It was entirely natural for philosophers who were practised in the schools of formal
Misapplica- logic to suppose that every thing which man believes to be true could be demonstrated
H °-£ °tl^e law by the methods and after the principles of the syllogism. The tenacity with which this
persuasion has been adhered to is most remarkable in the history of all systems and
schools of thought. For a long period after the revival of philosophy it seemed that
man would never cease to attempt to give a logical demonstration for the very axioms and principles on
which all demonstration must rest. Logical proof was required for all knowledge, for the belief in a mate-
rial world, for our confidence in memory, for the distinction between facts of experience and the illusions
of the imagination ; in short, for every thing known or believed by man. To logical proof the three laws
of thought were assumed as the axioms. Hence, upon these three laws was made to rest the whole struc-
ture of human knowledge, and from them, the validity of this knowledge was deduced in all its forms and
applications.
This view of these laws is especially manifest in the system of Wolf, who sought formally to demon-
strate the truth of all that we know. These logical axioms constitute the ultimate principles on which all
knowledge rests, the decisive criteria by which the credibility of all knowledge is to be tested and tried.
A new direction was given to opinion in respect to the value and authority of these
Kant resolved principles by Kant and his followers. Kant demonstrated that as logical axioms they
these laws into ori\j respect the consistency of concepts with concepts, and as such cannot be made
torms oltnoug . ^e gQ^e foun(iations or criteria of knowledge. He showed that besides analytical judg-
ments d priori, to which these principles apply in the fullest measure, there is also
another class of d priori judgments to which they can have no possible relation. But when he made the
d priori element in all these judgments to be dependent upon mental forms which might be only the
products of the mind's own activity, he greatly weakened their force and authority.
Schilling, after Fichte had carried Kant's doctrines into complete idealism, sought to
„ . . . , provide for our knowledge of the external or material world by asserting that we have
Hegel's view of a direct intuition, in the first instance, of the indifference of both the subjective and
identity. objective. In other words, as first known these are undistinguished or identical.
From this indifference or identity of the two, the mind develops the two opposite
forms of known being. This was an entirely novel application of the law of identity, a transference of
it from the logical to the metaphysical arena. Hegel sought to give this doctrine definite shape, by mak-
ing pure thought or the abstract concept the starting point. From this, by the necessary movement of
thought, he sought to develop every form and object of human knowledge. He tested all knowledge
by logic, and, of course, made the logical axioms universal. But in doing so he made a special use of the
law of negation and the law of identity. The relation of negation is fundamental to his whole system.
Every concept is what it is by its negative relation to something else : when this negative to something
else is turned back or applied to define the first it gives it all its positive and definite import : A is not B :
its not-B-ness makes it to be what it is as A. The relation of identity is similarly applied. A is
shown to be identical with not-B by precisely the same mode of developing and defining it. Whatever
is developed from any concept is developed by thought, and in being developed from it, is shown to be
other than it is ; but by being affirmed of it it is made to be identical with it. In this way every object is
shown in its thought-relations to be that which it is not— in other words, to be identical with it, becaus*
it is conceived or defined by it.
§552. MATHEMATICAL KELATIONS : TIME A1ST) SPACE. 53'
CHAPTER IV.
MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS I TIME AND SPACE.
The class of relations or categories which come next in order are the relations which involve
the belief in time and space. They are what in our classification we have called the
mathematical categories. These relations are of the most extensive application. The
recognition of them is involved in every act of consciousness and perception. They are
most intimately blended with one another. They suggest the space and time which are
infinite and absolute — the correlates of limited time and limited space. Both space and
time are invested with a peculiar mystery which seems to mock every attempt at analysis
and explanation. On the other hand, the very mystery of their nature and essence
serves to fascinate and hold the attention to them.; the difficulty which attends the subject-
matters both invites and challenges investigation. In order to relieve the treatment of
the subject as much as possible, we will consider them first under their more familiar
aspects and relations, and afterwards in those which are more recondite and difficult. We
begin with
I. Extension as given in sense-Perception ; or the relations of matter
ichich introduce and require the knowledge of Space.
... .. . 8 551. All matter is known as extended. The beinsrs or
All matter is o »
known as ex- objects of which we become cognizant in the muscular and
sensorial apparatus are extended. The percepts which arc
presented to the sensorium, as eye and ear and hand, are perceived as ex-
tended. Whether this objective and extended world is first perceived as
a whole and then divided into parts, or as parts which are afterwards
united into a whole, or as parts and whole together reciprocally rela-
ted, it or they must be known as extended.
It is not meant that the extension in one or all of its dimensions is known at
The extension at first separately from the matter to which it pertains and of which it is affirm-
first blended . ■ , . . ,. . ,. . ,•-,',.. . , -,
with matter. ed ; nor that its several directions or dimensions are clearly distinguished ; nor
again that the mind is at once familiar with magnitude, form, size, and
distance, apart from perceived objects, or even as belonging to such objects. Nor again is it
intended that these objects of apprehension are clearly distinguished and familiarly mastered at
even the first application of the attention. Frequent repetition and much practice is requisite
to separate the elements which in a single perception are blended, or vaguely perceived. But
these elements un-distinguished and connected, must be potentially in the object, and ready to be
discerned as soon as the mind attends. Some are mastered more easily than others. One and
another stands out from its background of original indistinctness, by a natural prominence as
compared with the remainder. But the mind nei ther creates its materials either of being or rela-
tion, from itself or by means of its own energy, nor does it give validity to its concepts
of either simply by inspecting objects. It simply finds what was there before, and what
would at once have been observed if the attention had been more sharp and the powers had
been matured. As soon as it begins to distinguish the objects or parts of the objects of its
perception, it connects them at once by the relations in question.
Development of § 552, ^s soon as aiaJ matter 1S distinguished as such, from
tionf oTexten- an<^ ^ ^e observing mind, it is known as extended, at least
sion- in two dimensions. We cannot conceive the eye and the
538 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §552.
band to rest upon or to move along any so-called object without the
apprehension of an extended surface. In the process by which the mate-
rial world itself is broken up into separate objects, each of these objects
must be known as terminating in surfaces having different directions with
reference to the surfaces and positions of other objects. The ball which
the infant grasps and holds is known to have an extended surface, which
when followed by the eye or felt by the hand is known to return upon
itself, giving as the result a formed object or an object having form. The
cube sooner or later makes objects familiar as extended in three dimen-
sions or directions, i.e., as high, broad, and deep. This extension is first
known as outer or as enclosing matter. But when the child peeps into a
box, or surveys from within, the walls, floor and ceiling of the apartment
with which it is familiar, it distinguishes surfaces as inner or inclosed
by matter from those which are outer and inclose matter ; the surfaces
being still known as belonging to matter and not at all as separable
attributes, and still less as involving relations to empty space or a con-
ceivable void.
But the mind cannot contemplate inclosing and inclosed, or outer and inner
Void or inclos- extension, without removing the inclosed or inclosing matter, or at least with-
mg space. out thinking 0f them as removed. By the child, the box or apartment is
believed literally to be empty. It is void of all matter that is discern-
ible by the senses. The outer surface of the ball or cube is in contact with no perceived
matter. So far as the senses apprehend, a void or empty space is believed to envelop them.
The contained atmosphere is not perceived to be material. However decisively succeeding
experiments may prove that it has weight, resistance and even color, the senses do not as yet
acknowledge any of these properties. In this void there is nothing, i. e., nothing sensible or
material. And yet this void can be occupied with matter. The box and the apartment can
both be filled. Cube can be piled upon cube, ball can be laid by the side of ball till the inner
surfaces are reached in every direction. More than all, within this void, matter can be moved ;
the ball can be dragged or thrown from one side of the apartment to the other.
Matter is thus perceived to be capable of beiDg included or surrounded by
void space^ Is other matter, or by that which is void — i. e., not-matter. It is also known to
Sace^nd dircc- be caPab1e of including other matter or void space. Last and most im-
tion. portant of all, it is known to be movable in space. Moreover, within the
void included by matter, different objects may be introduced. When compared with one
another, or with this inclosing matter, they are said to be placed or situated here and there,
near and remote, etc. When viewed with respect to a person perceiving them, or an object
in his place, they are before and behind. If the person or object moves or is moved, he or it
is said to go or to be carried hither and thither. These give the relations of matter to matter,
involving place, position, and direction. <*
All these relations are as yet known of different portions of matter as perceived. The
outside and inside, the here and there, etc., etc., are only affirmed of material objects as they
are mutually related to each other, and to the something which at least is not known to be
matter, or, it may be, is known not to be matter— i. e., not to affect the senses in any of tho
usual methods.
§ 554. MATHEMATICAL EELATIONS : TIME AND SPACE. 53S
Analysis re- § 553« After the process of perception is complete, and aL
SSons^ne by tnat ^ involves is united and built up into sense-objects and
one- their relations, the mind proceeds to analyze these elements,
and to think of them separately from any one substance, and as common to
many. The color, the taste, the feeling, and the other sensible qualities
are conceived and named apart in the manner already explained, and
soon become familiar to the mind. But after disposing of all the qualities
apprehended by sense-perception, it encounters as a residuum those which
are suggested by the inner and outer surfaces of matter as already de-
scribed. The hand experiments upon these surfaces, and finds them
rough or smooth, etc. The eye discerns them as variously colored, as light
or dark, etc. But no one of the senses finds what we call their extension.
There is no sense-perception to which this is appropriate, and over
against which this may be set as a quality. Moreover, this very property
involves the recognition of the void to which it is conceived to have some
relation. The one cannot be apprehended without the other; the asser-
tion or recognition of the one is the assertion or recognition of some rela-
tion to the other.
What is this void which we call space ; which as yet is not
SSSs. many perceived by the senses, and yet is somehow known to
exist ? What is extension or that property in matter which
requires the recognition of space ? By what powers and processes of the
mind are each of these known? How are they defined when known?
These inquiries remain to be answered. We may find some aid in answer-
ing them, if we consider first the attributes and relations which involve
the kindred questions in respect to time.
II. Of Time as apprehended in consciousness / or the relations of
events which introduce and involve the knowledge of Time.
§ 554. The phenomena or activities of the soul are to time,
related to the what material objects are to space. It is to these events and
activities of the spirit that the relations of time are applied
with the most eminent propriety. They are also affirmed of the events
and phenomena of matter, and apparently with the same directness and
confidence as of those of spirit. Whether this happens by the direct
or intuitive action of the mind, or by its indirect and mediate opera-
tions, is reserved for further inquiry. Meanwhile, there can be no question
that time and its relations pertain with eminent propriety to the phe-
nomena which the soul apprehends by consciousness.
Every psychical act or state, whether apprehended more or less dis-
tinctly as a part of the whole series, and the entire series viewed as an
unbroken whole, is known as continuing or enduring.
540 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. §555
How soon ; or whether it is by the gradual discipline or instant application
The acts of the 0f ^e powers that psychical phenomena are separated into distinct events, we
guished at first, need not inquire. The events of our inner life may seem at first to flow iD
a smooth and even current, or the surface may, from the first, be broken by
slight ripples, that afterwards rise into clearly-distinguished waves. In either case, the whole
and the parts are known as continuous or enduring. An act that is literally instantaneous, a
state beginning and ending in the same instant and occupying no time at all, is absolutely
inconceivable. What we call instants are not timeless, but the least knowable or appreciable
portions of time. As every object of sense-perception — whether many as one, or one of many
— must be known as extended ; so is it with the phenomena of consciousness. Continuance
belongs to each and to all. This continuance of which we are conscious at first, like the
extension which we perceive in matter, is not known as an attribute or relation involving
what we call void or absolute time, but is known as blended with the object of which we are
conscious ■ constituting with the special matter of the state an undistinguished whole, separa-
ble by the attentive thought into its distinguishable elements or relations.
8 555. As soon and as fast as the continuous flow of these
The continuance . • -i i • A - -t <_. -, -,,
of two classes of inner phenomena is broken up into distinct and separable
events, the fact that they are continuous becomes more dis-
tinctly apprehended. Before it was vaguely known ; now it is made the
matter of definite cognition. But there are two classes of objects given
to consciousness ; first, the energy of the ego by which it manifests its
continued, unbroken, and identical life ; and second, the special activities
which change every instant, which are clearly distinguished from one
another, and attract the attention by their special force or quality. The
mind knows itself the subject of changing activities — to be living and acting
continuously. That which, in the knowledge of what is here called the
continued life or energy of the soul, is presented as the object of its
apprehension, cannot be classed with any thing besides, in the soul's
cognition. It is enough to say of it, that the soul distinguishes itself
from its changing and succeeding phenomena, and that it knows the ego —
the self, the existing being as contrasted with its phenomena — to be
enduring. But the soul also knows itself as acting and suffering in states
that change as continuously. Some of these states may seem also to
coincide with others, as one continuous or repeated act of knowledge may
run side by side with two or more diverse states of feeling.
Of the special and changing activities we are accustomed to say, We know
The present, the present by immediate and intuitive inspection, but we know them as
past, and future, continuing : the past activity we remember, but we remember it as con-
tinuing : the future we anticipate and believe in, but we believe it afe con-
tinuing. But we know all the three as connected with and proceeding from the continually
existing subject of them, and as by its life connected with one another. Upon this con-
tinually existing and proceeding life of the soul, all its special activities and states are pro-
jected, as it were ; as one portion of extended matter is perceived over against the back-
ground of other matter more extended than itself. These activities thus connected are known
to exist in a series involving the relations between one another of now, before, and after.
These relations are applied first of all to the individual activities of the soul, not at all to the
instants or periods of time which they are conceived to occupy, or are supposed to represent,
§ 557. MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS I TIME A.Nu SPA(,i£. 541
for these are not yet supposed to be reached by analysis or generalization. But just as we
speak of portions of matter, as here, there ; before, behind ; within, and without ; so we apply
these time-relations to the states of the soul. As we find one portion of matter included by
or including other portions, so we can cut off one portion of the continuous life of the soul by
voluntary or involuntary effort, and contemplate those states which are bounded by it, either
in the way of inclusion or exclusion.
§ 556. Time may seem to the consciousness to be void, as space
^entl°n void °f can appear to be void to sense-perception. The mind can at
least attend to a certain series only of the events of its inner
life, and contemplate the rest of this existence as unoccupied by any
events whatever, and yet as continuing. There can be no time absolutely
void, but portions of the soul's existence can be considered as such, in the
sense explained. But that time should be conceived or known as void, is
not at all essential to the knowledge of events in the relations of time.
We can know events as past, present, and future, by considering each of
them as continuous phenomena of the continued life of the soul.
We have to do thus far only with time-relations in the concrete, and as given
Consciousness in consciousness. By consciousness, it will be obvious, we do not intend
carefully defined. mereiy the power or the act by which the soul knows its own states as present
and immediate. It includes some use of the representative power in respect
to past and future events, as well as the belief that what is represented, was or will be actual.
Consciousness must be enlarged to this extent of meaning, before it can connect objects in the
relations of time. But in consciousness as thus defined, we clearly distinguish between what
is concrete in the matter of the soul's experience — both its separate acts or stages of knowl-
edge, feeling, and will, as well as the energy of the soul's continued life — from the time-rela-
tions which these phenomena hold to one another. These last are a residuum which present
material for further consideration and analysis.
III. Of the mutual relations of Extended and Enduring objects.
The mind dis- § 55^ Material objects*, as we have seen, are apprehended
and3 !ndeuri£g by sense-perception as extended. Spiritual acts and states
objects together. are known jn consciousness as enduring. But sense-percep-
tion and consciousness occur, in fact, as two elements of the same psychical
energy or state. As a consequence, the relations of extension and dura-
tion are intimate and interchangeable, and the conceptions and language
originally derived from and appropriate to the one, are appropriated to the
other.
We do not insist that the soul can, in the same mental state, act with equal
But not with energy in each of these forms of activity. On the contrary, its force is most
equal attention. usuaUy expended upon the one or the other. But however energetic and
absorbing be the energy of the soul in its sense-perception of a material
object, it cannot be wholly unaware that it also exercises spiritual activity in perceiving. However
exclusively introverted is its gaze upon the experiences of the inner self, it cannot be wholly
unaware of material and extended objects. By this obvious fact of actual experience, we
explain the intimate conjunction of duration and extension, and understand how it is not only
possible, but even necessary, to connect the two in imagination, language, and thought.
542 THE HtTMAN INTELLECT. §559
Duration trans- § 558, ^e ^rst °^ tnese applications which we notice, is
riaied acts m and tne transference of the relations of time from the phe-
pnenomena. nomena of spirit, to the activities and phenomena of matter.
Duration or continuance is, as we have seen, originally discerned of the activities and
phenomena of the spirit. To these the relations of time are directly and properly applied.
The reason is, that when these relations are affirmed of more than one object, whether of
matter or spirit, the intervention of the memory is required. We cannot say of the trotting
of a horse, of the flight of a bullet, or of any other motion, that it continued so many seconds
or minutes, without supposing the memory of the observer, who is all the while looking on, to
translate the objects really taking place into the objects as perceived by himself, i.e., into so many
acts of his own, each enduring so much time. Every object of memory is remembered as
having been observed by the person, and is recalled by him as having been observed, and
hence as necessarily bearing the relations of time. Material acts or phenomena must be
connected as constituting an intellectual whole, that they may be recalled. This is further
evident from the circumstance that, whatever may take place in the series of objective or
material acts, that which is unobserved is totally omitted in the estimates of time. It is to the
mind as enduring as though it had not been a^t all. It is not true that observation or memory,
one or both, makes the material phenomena to endure or to require time in which to endure ;
but it is true that the knowledge of them as enduring requires that they be thought of by
some person as occurring in his actual or possible experience. We raise no questions and
make no assertions respecting objective time, or time considered apart from the experience
of some spirit. We have to do, at present, with duration, i. <?., as experienced, or with objects as
enduring. We assert that this relation can neither be applied, nor thought of as applied to
any material acts or events, except through the medium of the duration of some person who
applies to them his own spiritual experiences as coinciding with these in fact or imagination.
Every such application, when fully translated or explicated, is made as follows : " While I was
thinking or observing, the horse trotted or the bullet sped so or so far."
The measures § 559- But though duration, as a spiritual experience, is the
taken from *££ ultimate standard or measure ; the duration of materia:
tended bein&. events, — the actual measures of the duration of both spiritual
and material phenomena, — are taken from the objective or material world.
The reason is obvious. Any standard furnished from individual and
spiritual experience must be so indeterminate to one's self as to be use-
less, and, moreover, must be wholly inaccessible to every one besides.
Though, in our ultimate analysis, we say to ourselves, " While I was
thinking and feeling so and so, the pendulum vibrated, the horse ran, the
bullet sped so or so far," yet it is practically impossible for us to fix and
render familiar any individual or often repeated series of thoughts and feel-
ings, so as to use it as a standard even for ourselves. Even if we could
do this for ourselves, we could not bring it within the reach and use of
others. Each individual might perhaps be supposed to employ his own
separate measure or standard of duration, but no two persons could have
one that was common. But two individuals, and even two myriads of
individuals, can observe the same vibrating pendulum, the same advancing
or waning shadow on the dial, the same rising and setting sun, and can
use these as standards to measure and mark all other phenomena, both
internal and external.
§ 560. MATHEMATICAL EELATIOXS I TIME AND SPACE. 543
It is by a natural necessity, therefore, that all the relations of time should be measured
by standards and dimensions taken from extension and space. Some material thing, moving
a prescribed distance, is taken as the unit or standard. It may be a heavenly body returning
upon its path at supposed regular intervals ; it may be the beating of the hand or the foot,
each stroke being assumed to be equally long ; it may be some artificial motion, as of a pendu-
ium or balance-wheel, under the operation of gravitation or steady tension. But whatever the
standard may be, it must be asstimed, for it cannot be in any way demonstrated that its
motions are uniform in their rate of time. It cannot be demonstrated, and it certainly is not
intuitively discerned, that any of these motions which are considered the most accurate
standards of time are uniform with each other. This assumption rests upon another, that of
rational order or fitness in the constitution and phenomena of the universe ; or, in other
words, upon the principle of final cause. The certainty which is claimed for the mathematico-
physical sciences in the ultimate and most unquestioned of their relations, — the sciences which
are styled preeminently the sciences of observation and of fact — rests in the final resort upon
this a priori relation of being and law of thought.
Xot only are the standards of duration taken from material
The language of _ „ _ . .
duration taken aud extended objects, but the language ot duration is taken
from the same source, and for a similar reason. In fact, and
from necessity, all the relations of time are expressed in terms originally
appropriate to material objects, and the relations of extension which they
involve. Long, short, before, after, etc., were first applied to material
objects, and from them transferred to the relations of time. As will be
seen hereafter, this is but a single example of the necessity by which the
language and terms of every kind that are applied to spirit and its rela-
tions must be derived from space-objects and space-relations.
IV. Of the relations of Quantity as applicable to space and time objects.
8 560. Material objects are not only known to be extended,
Extended objects f5 J J . . '
measure one but, as extended, they are soon perceived as measuring one
another. This at once introduces and explains the relation
of quantity. The relation implies the act of measuring, and the discovery
of an answer by some assumed standard. Quantity supposes the inquiry,
How much, How many, or, How great ? It has for its answer, So much,
So many, So large — referring at once to some object which, in its relation
of extension, duration, or number, is before or may be before the mind.
The extended material universe, as at first vaguely and confusedly per-
ceived, is unbroken, having only superficial extension. By the process of
sense-perception it is soon broken into separate objects, each of which is
extended. When these objects, thus separated, are again compared with
the unbroken whole from which they are divided, they are known as
holding to each other the relation of parts and a whole. The same is true
when any portion of this extended whole is detached and subdivided into
smaller divisions.
In a similar way, one or more of the separate acts or states
cMcai^phen^m" of the soul which follow one another in a series as experienced
ena do the same. . . , , , n -,..,. -.
in consciousness, may be contemplated as dividing, and yet
544 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 561.
making up this whole, the whole of time being constituted by the con-
tinued activity of the soul in its different acts. In this way we apply the
relation of whole and parts to both extended and enduring objects, the
whole being, in the one case, constituted of objects adjacent in extension,
and, in the other, of objects continuous in duration, which objects, thus
viewed, become its parts.
Psychologically viewed, the relation of whole and parts is the first of
the relations of quantity which the mind apprehends by sense and con-
sciousness, and, as we have seen, the wholes and parts which result from
the analyzing and combining acts of sense, representation and thought, be-
long among the formal relations.
Again : The adjacent surfaces of extended objects are observed to coincide in one of
their terminating limits, either when two objects are placed closely upon one another by the
hand, or when two are held at different distances, so as precisely to cover one another to the
eye. If, in either case, all the extremities coincide, one of these objects measures the
other, and is equal to it. If one extends beyond the other, it is greater ; if it falls short of it,
it is less. The same relations would be affirmed of two or more spiritual states as enduring,
if they should be actually experienced together in consciousness, supposing this were possi-
ble, or if they were simply conceived so to occur. "We speak of periods of time, when thus
compared, usually as longer or shorter than others, or as equally long or short with another, in
terms taken from the dimensions of space. We also speak of more, or less, or equal time, in
those designations of quantity which are common to both space and time objects, and are
acknowledged to be equally appropriate to either.
It will be noticed that, in order to measure one extended surface by another, the two
must be in fact, or appear to the eye to be in one plane. You cannot measure a plane by a
spherical surface, nor a circular by a straight line. You can measure only the planes which
each present to the eye. Direction in some sense is also implied. You must move the meas-
ured object evenly in a plane, or move it towards some defining limit, which must be kept
steadily in view. Inasmuch, however, as the eye leads in the sense-perceptions, and to the eye
at first all objects appear in one plane, direction need not at first be a matter prominently con-
sidered.
8 561. These examples explain how one extended object or
Measurement . . . x . .
requires num- enduring act oi spirit may measure another by the relations
of equality or greater and less. Measure, in another mean-
ing, supposes the application of number.
This relation may be developed so far as to be applied to
The relation of _ . *L —. vf „ .- , . . . -.
number, how de- these uses, as follows: JJirst oi all, some object must be
selected which shall serve as the unit, which at the same
time can be conveniently repeated as an equal part of a whole of extended
objects, or of a series of enduring mental states. Let two objects of
equal extent of surface be placed one upon the other, and be seen to be
equal. Let the one be then placed adjoining the other, and made to coincide
with it in the same plane ; or, which is the same in effect, let a single
object be moved before any background, and successively cover and reveal
portions equal to itself, and we have at once complete occasion for the use
of number in measurement. Two equals side by side in a plane, can
§563. MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS I TIME AND SPACE. 545
be counted if, the mind contemplates the one after the other in the ordei
of time. That with which it begins is the first, or 1, of the series. The
next, when connected with the one taken first in time, is second, or 2„
When another is thus connected, we have the third, or 3, and so on. Thus
we count, or number. But to count, or number, is only possible as we
connect objects by a consecutive series of mental acts — that is, by a series
of mental acts following each other in time.
The object which thus divides into equal parts an extended whole or a con-
Relations of tinue(l series, whether the divisions are permanent, or momentary, is called
number. its measure. When these parts are connected as following one another, by
the sustained attention of the mind, the parts are numbered as well as
measured. ,
§ 562. The relation of number is complex, and requires that
nunibSdefinedf objects should be connected in series as wholes and parts,
and contemplated in the relations, which are derived from the
time-relations of the mind that views them. It is clear that we cannot
number without cognizing objects as connected as wholes and parts, by the
mind's contemplation of them in a series of acts distinguished and united
as enduring in its own subjective experience. In other words, number
depends upon those relations of time which we assume and know to
be inseparable from the soul's own activity.
When a series of mental states is itself measured and numbered, it
must be remembered that in reflective consciousness the series itself is
made objective to the mind. It is treated or viewed as though it were a
series or whole of material objects. In such a case it is itself contem-
plated by a new series of acts which, as necessarily consequent in the
mind's subjective experience, both require and furnish the relations of
number which are forthwith applied to the object-series before it. It
makes no difference what this object is, whether it is an object-object or a
subject-object. It is contemplated by a series of acts wholly subjective,
involving as spiritual acts the attribute of duration to themselves, and as
successive, the relation of number in the objects which they unite and
measure as wholes and parts.
Thus far we have to do with the relations of quantity as known in the concrete, that is, as
applied to actually existing objects. We have seen how one portion of matter or one act or
state of mind can be applied to measure another or others, in the way of magnitude and
number. We have also seen that we cannot measure extended objects or connect spiritual
states without numbering them. How these can be conceived as pure quantity or quantity in
die abstract, will be considered hereafter. (Cf. § 569).
V. Of extended and enduring objects as Imaged or represented : or
space and time objects as enlarged and measured by the Imagination.
§ 563. Only a small portion of the material universe is
sense - per- apprehended through the senses by any single act of the
mind. The hand can cognize an object of only equal extent
35
546 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §564.
with itself. The eye has a far wider, but still a very limited range. All
beyond either, is apprehended and measured by the representative power.
Even within the limits to which the eye reaches, and upon those very
objects which the eye seems to command, the representative power is
largely employed in estimating extent in the dimensions of distance and
size.
That which is before the eye is the utmost which the eye can in any sense be said to
perceive, and very much of this extent is estimated by the mind's eye. If we change the
point of view with the swiftness of the flying bird, as fast as we see a new extent of objects,
we lose sight of those present an instant before. The sailor who is driven before the wind,
finds himself, every morning, apparently in the same place as the evening previous — in the
centre of a circular lake bounded by the line made by the sky and the sea.
Within these limits, whether the observer is fixed or in motion, this ex
Within these tended whole can be divided according to the convenience or the caprice of
aswe please" tne percipient. Nature has given fixed or moving boundary lines, by the
various properties of the undivided and separable, of the stationary and
moving objects with which she fills every visible scene. The objects within the reach of the
hand and the direct inspection of the eye, we measure by selecting some one as a unit, in the
manner explained. Those beyond these bounds, we measure in a similar way, with this differ-
ence only, that the material measured, and the standard by which it is measured, are furnished
by the imagination only, working upon the suggestions or occasions which perceived objects
furnish. We seem to perceive the real height of the lofty tree that shoots up from the hori-
zon against the sky, while it is but a mote to the eye ; we think we perceive the width of the
stream that threads the distant meadow with a silvery line, but these estimates are possible
only by the aid of the picture-making power, that brings them by the side of the tree under
which we stand, or upon the margin of the stream where we sit. We have already learned,
in considering the acquired perceptions, that it is only by the aid of the imagination that we
supply the defects of the senses, and interpret their indications.
8 564. Beyond the limits of actual perception we are de-
Beyond these we ° J .... , t>
usetheimagina- pendent upon the imagination alone for our estimates of
distance and size. These estimates, within and beyond the
reach of experience, vary with the actual knowledge which we have gained
of such objects by inspection and recall by the memory, and with the
practice which we have gained by the frequent application of definite
standards by the representative power. The adult surpasses the child
immeasurably in this power. So does the man of various observation aud
of disciplined powers excel the man of limited knowledge and of untrained
habits ; so most strikingly does the modern, instructed and taught as he
is, present a very striking contrast to the wisest of the ancients.
The child, uninformed and immature, has very scanty materials with which
Ilc-w the child ^o q\\ up or extend the background of the scene that is within reach of its
imagines distant ,.«.'. . , . „
objects. perceptions, and but little mterest to excite to their use. Hence its esti-
mates of the place, distance, and size of the objects that are remote from its
reach, uninteresting to its feelings, or unfamiliar to its handling, are singularly confused,
capricious, and uncertain.
A child between three and four years old, of no inferior intelligence, and of good oppor-
§565. MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS: TIME AND SPACE. 547
hmities for instruction and thought, was once asked how far distant the sun sets, and answered
promptly, In the next field. The answer expressed the first impressions of every child, and
slearly illustrates the little exercise to which the childish imagination is disciplined in the wa}
of filling the interval that lies between its home and the visible horizon. This child had
walked and driven for miles in every direction from its home, and would have remembered,
and declared if prompted by a leading question, that all the roadways along which it had gone
were bordered by adjacent houses, fields, and gardens, like those in sight ; but it had never
learned familiarly to think of these as filling up the space, or to estimate their relative dimen-
sions. Beyond the bounds that shut in the nearest and the most familiar objects, its imagi-
nation had rarely acted, and all the wide universe without was to its fancy and its judgment
almost a blank. In the same way we account for the incapacity of a child to conceive intelli-
gently the length of a road or the extent of a journey.
Very like the immature child is the uncultivated man, especially if such an
The uncultiva- one °1S fixed> °y his habits of life, to a single narrow valley or a limited range
ted man. 0f travel. Every thing beyond is confused and unmeasured. The horizon of
his actual perceptions, or the slightly enlarged horizon of his expeditions for
hunting and war, includes all that he knows or soberly imagines. He may at times fill the
blank vacuity beyond with objects that are monstrous, horrid, and grotesque — objects that are
terrific to his unintelligent fears, or are bewildering to his insane expectations ; but he fixes
few or none which hold definite or rational relations to others as measures or bounds. The
spatial world formed by both child and savage, is well represented by the rude maps of the
early geographers, in which the countries actually traversed are drawn with a certain degree
of definiteness, though the near is out of all proportion to the remote ; while all beyond is a
blank bounded by an uncertain line, along which uncouth monsters are placed, or the unknown
and measureless water or desert shuts in the picture.
If the child or the savage attempt to picture and measure the regions of the sky, or to
estimate the size and distance of the heavenly bodies, the processes are still more uncertain
and the results more indefinite and vague. Both soon tire of repeating any familiar object
selected as a measure. They neither think nor care how large are the sun and the stars, or how
many are the steps, the miles, or leagues, which would be required to reach them. Thus and
thus only can we explain the very inadequate conceptions on these subjects which the early
astronomers accepted and taught.
„ 8 565. Our conceptions and measures of time-obi ects, like
jVT G9.surps of
time-objects im- those of sjmce-objects, are largely the work of the representa-
tive faculty. The passing and present acts and states of our
own spirits, and the coincident operations and phenomena of the material
world are the only time-objects of which we have direct cognizance.
Past objects are gone. Future objects do not yet exist. Present objects
alone directly confront the mind. The past must be recalled by memory,
the future must be anticipated in the imagination, so as with the present
to complete the series of time-objects.
The standards by which we measure these objects, whether present,
past, or future, are of two descriptions. They are taken from the material
world, in the motions of certain objects which are assumed to be uniform,
or from the world of spirit in some longer or shorter period of our own
existence, which, with the feelings attending it, is made the standard.
We may distinguish these standards of space and time as definite and in*
definite.
548 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 566.
To measure past events, we must be able to recall them in their order, so
t?efeSndiSent as to have before us tne mafcerial which we are to estimate. But men differ
men. greatly in the capacity to revive past objects in their fulness and order. If
the capacity to recall with success be possessed, time and effort must be added
that any past series may be restored, so as to be estimated or measured. Some self-discipline
and practice are required that a measure may be prepared from our inner experience which
shall be ready for use, and also that the same standard shall be applied on the occasions required.
Differences in both these particulars in different persons, and in the same
Differences in persons at different times, account for the singular differences which are
time. notorious in our estimates of time. No fact is more generally accepted, than
that two series of events may occupy the same length of time as measured
by the clock, and may seem to vary very greatly from one another as measured by the mind.
If we are waiting impatiently for the arrival of a friend or of a railway train — if we are
listening to a tiresome conversation or a tedious lecture, the time seems very long. On the
other hand, if the conversation is interesting, or the pastime is absorbing, the time flies swiftly
along. The child cannot believe that the hour has come which calls him from his play, to
school or to bed. A trip by a steamer seems much longer than a trip by railway, when the
time is the same. Each are sensibly shortened if the tedium is beguiled by spirited conver-
sation. A week spen^t in the daily routine of regular employment, goes quickly by ; while a
week of constant travelling, filled up by a rapid succession of exciting objects, often seems
surprisingly long. The years of childhood glide slowly away. Every day and every month
stretches to an interminable length, because our present enjoyment brings no disappointment,
and because it stands between us and some future enjoyment which the mind is impatient to
grasp. The years of our busy middle life slip hastily by, though we would fain delay their
flight, because we are too busy to measure the passing years.
The estimates which we make in dreams of both space and time, are singu-
Estimatesof larly capricious. They strikingly illustrate and enforce the truth, that these
in dreams. ime estimates depend on the subjective judgment of the soul, and these judgments
are capable of extraordinary variations, from merely accidental causes. A
dream whicn takes but a few minutes, suffices for a long journey or a tedious voyage, for a
protracted entertainment or a prolonged and painful contest. We seem to ourselves to pass
through weary hours of prolonged suspense, to experience manifold struggles and disappoint-
ments, to climb lofty eminences by a series of vain efforts, to apply ourselves again and again
to fruitless tasks, and the time which we spend and the spaces which we traverse are stretched
almost to infinitude.
Measurements § 566. The constructions and measurements of space and time
nJmbw^and which we have thus far considered, are not to be confounded
magnitude. ^-^ those which involve the relations of number and mag-
nitude. They are made for practical use and convenience, and rest
upon those comparisons of one series of objects with another which give
general impressions of their time or space relations, or the application
of some familiar object or series as a standard by which to measure one
that is freshly presented. They do not involve any great precision or
an exact record. In the most of these cases, the relations of time and space
are not the sole, perhaps not the prominent matter of interest. The mind
judges the time spent in one occupation was about as long as the time
spent in another. It took me about as long, or twice or half as long, as to
do this or that daily duty. The distance from A to B is equal to the
§566 MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS: TIME AND SPACE. 549
distance from C to D, or it may be greater or less. But when we say,
London is 3 to 4,000 miles from New York, or the moon is 238,650 miles
distant from the earth ; or Washington and Napoleon were born and died
so many years after the birth of our Lord, we apply measurements of a
different character. These are what we have styled the definite standards
of both space and time.
It is interesting to notice, in this connection, the history of the progress made by th
numan race in the standards of both time and space. The savage measures time by the bud-
ding of the oak, or the return and departure of birds or other game. By and by he marks
the coming and going of the moon. Then rude devices like the clepsydra or the sand-dial are
introduced. Last of all, the scientific observer employs the chronometer and the astronomical
clock.
So, in standards of length, the mind has passed from the use of parts of the body, to
measurements by the aid of the pendulum, or a portion of a circle of the earth, in order to
find an accurate and trustworthy standard.
The first question that presents itself in respect to these standards is, What are the
conceptions of a minute, an hour, a day, a year, a yard, a rod, or a mile, which, in such cases, we
speak of so freely and apply so readily ? Are they images or concepts ? Are they individual
or general, or something between the two ? We answer, They are both images and concepts,
or imaged concepts, and are the products of both imagination and of thought. So far as
they are products of the imagination or the representative power, they fall within the present
section.
Standards of both space and time are images or representations of material
Whence stand- objects. No images can be formed of space or time as such, or of what are
derived. sometimes called pure or empty space and time, but only of those objects or
events which hold a relation to either or to both. When these are pictured
or imaged, they carry with them those relations which the originals necessarily involve, and
from which they cannot be severed in reality or in thought (§ 424).
Objects and events can be represented or pictured with the greatest possible
How thev are ^umess or vagueness. If not really present, they can never equal those which
pictured. are subjects of actual experience. They can rise very nearly to that freshness
and fulness which present perception and immediate consciousness can alone
apprehend, or they can fade and sink away to that dimness which simply suggests that certain
portions of space and time are covered or occupied by them. In forming these representations
of pure and empty space and time, the mind has only to fix its limits nearer or more remotely,
more widely or closely, and leave the interval between wholly unoccupied by either objects or
events. As in forming images of objects actually perceived or experienced, it can make them
full or scanty, vivid or faint, so it can leave unpictured every thing except the bounding limits
themselves, and these it can picture with only the distinctness required to suggest the space
and time between. But even in all these cases some definite and individual object is imaged.
But with the object itself, as such, the mind is little concerned. It only employs and cares
for it as it suggests the space and time to which it is related. Thus, for a standard of space,
the words yard, or rod, or mile, may call up some visible or tangible object most indefinitely
pictured, or with the words, a minute, an hour, a day, or year, some series of events that have
required a remembered period, or a part of such a period. Both these are pictured, not for
their own sake, but for the sake of the time or space which they suggest. But these standards
are concepts as well as images, and they cannot be completely understood, even as images, till
they are considered also as concepts. This leads us to the next topic.
55 C THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 568.
VI. Of space and time objects as Generalized ; or the Concepts of the
relations of objects to time and space.
How the reia- § 56^« Different individual objects and events hold similai
andtimfoSs relati°ns to ^otn space and time, whether they are presented
are generalized. ^0 sense and consciousness, or are represented to the imagina-
tion. Space-objects may be alike in relative position, distance, form, and
size, etc., Time objects maybe alike in coexistence, in antecedence or sub-
sequence, in their relative place in the order of occurrence, and in the inter-
vals by which they are separated from one another or from any other
event. The mutual relations which exist between time and space objects
may also be common to any number of both classes. These relations are as
readily generalized as are the attributes of material or spiritual things. It
is as easy to generalize the forms and sizes of objects as their color or their
taste, the beforeness and aftemess of a spiritual act, as its quality as an act
of knowledge or of feeling.
There is this difference : these relations are in their nature incapable of being directly
picturable to the imagination, as are the properties of matter and spirit. In order to represent
them at all, we must first picture the objects which hold them, and so recall or suggest the
relations themselves. As concepts these generalized products are as easily formed and com-
prehended as any other concepts. They are peculiar only in the relations which they bear to
the individual things and events of which they are affirmed, and to the representations of those
things and events by which the concepts are imaged.
8 568. The words by which these relations are named and
These relations " _ . , ,, ._ _
individual and known, are as truly generic as the terms usually called
common. It is true, these terms are usually called terms of
relation, but this makes no difference with their character. All of them, it
is true, have a more or less direct relation to an individual place and time,
and seem therefore to be less general than the other appellatives ; but they
are all capable of being equally applicable to many individual objects, and
hence are as truly generic as they. We cannot say here, there, now, be-
fore and after, without implying that an individual observer occupying an
individual place at an individual portion of time apprehends the object in
this very relation, but it is possible that many objects at different times
may be here or there, and now and then, before and after, i. e., at the same
time in different places. Hence the hereness and thereness,t\\e nowness, the
beforeness and the aftemess may all be common to many individuals, and
like sensible or spiritual qualities may be affirmed or predicated of all.
Hence these objects may be grouped under, or classified by means of these
general relations. Hence the terms which denote them, take their place
side by side with the other common terms with which we are more familiar.
Very many adjectives of time, as prior, later, present, p>ast, and future, and
of space, as long, short, high, deep, and broad, and of form, as circular,
triangular, square, spherical, and conical, and of motion, as swift, slow, etc.,
§569. MATHEMATICAL EELATIONS I TIME AND SPACE. 551
will occur to any thoughtful mind as belonging to these classes of
words.
All these classes of terms, like all other notion words, require some image to explain and
illustrate them to the mind. But they are peculiar in this, that any object whatever will serve
to image some of these terms, and a very large class of objects will serve to illustrate others.
Every object in nature and in spirit has some relation to time and space, and hence it is indif-
ferent what one is cited to exemplify these universal relations. Other time and space relations,
though not universal, are much more extensive than most of the usually recognized appella-
tives. It is much easier to recall an example of an event that is early or late, or, an object
that is spherical or oval, than of the majority of the common terms that are most frequently
used.
VIL Of Mathematical Quantity ; the process by which its concepts are
evolved, and their relation to time and space.
Two classes f § 569- These concepts naturally divide themselves into two
mathematical classes, the concepts of magnitude and the concepts of num-
concepts. ' .
ber, or the concepts which are related severally to space, and
time. We begin with those which imply the existence of space, as being
the most easily explained and understood ; i. e., with geometrical concepts
or concepts of pure magnitude.
Of these the most familiar are the point, the line, the surface.
How geometri- . £ \ /.,,,.*
oai concepts are the triangle, the square, the rectangle, tne rhomboid, the solid)
the cube, the sphere, etc.
These terms stand for both images and concepts, in other words for
the products of the imagination and of thought. As images they are
individual, as concepts they are general. The representative imagination
recalls sensible objects and phenomena with their relations to both space
and time. It is impossible to view the one and omit the other.
The creative imagination idealizes not only the sensible and spiritual properties of these
objects and phenomena but it idealizes their space and time relations, § 353. It transforms the
perceptible edge with its actual breadth and ragged outline into the ideal line which has neither
breadth nor undulation. It smooths the undulating surface into an evenly lying geometrical
superficies. In the same way it refines the blunted corner of a die or cubical block into the
mathematical point which is imagined as having place but no extent in any direction. These
relations cannot themselves be thus imaged without the aid of some concrete object, but the
object itself can be imaged with these relations thus idealized and refined. When the attention
is withdrawn from the object related and occupied with the relation in question thus
idealized, the relation itself is said to be imaged. This act of fixing the attention is an act
of analysis, preliminary to the act of generalization. But when the relation is generalized,
we have a concept in place of an image, holding the same relation to the concrete and indi-
vidual which belongs to any other concept. That is, these concepts need to be imaged and
illustrated by concrete objects as truly as do others. Their import can be understood and
their validity established only by this process. As has already been explained, § 453, their
superior clearness and intelligibility as the materials for definition and deduction can be
accounted for by the readiness with which the mind can recur to their import by citing somt
individual example, and can be sure that it has considered every one of its possible relations.
552 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. g 571,
§ 570. All the geometrical conceptions are dependent upon
asGum t? nJhat tne assumption of the space-relation of objects. Without
these space-relations they have no meaning. They presup-
pose the belief in these space-relations, as actually belonging to every
material existence. They rest upon the belief in that absolute and infinite
space which limited space presupposes and involves. Space with the space-
relations of objects, is the ever -assumed background upon which all
geometrical constructions are projected, and over against which all its
processes are interpreted. Its presence is not expressed in language, but
it is constantly recognized by the mind as essential to the intelligibleness
and the application of the definition, and proof. A line, a point, etc., are
?20-things, they are incomplete and impossible conceptions except as space
is supposed and supplied by the mind as that in and by means of which
they can be constructed and conceived. These truths are too obvious to
need further proof or illustration.
The vouchers for the reality and the validity of these conceptions are to be
Postulates of found in the mind's own power to construct them. The mind knows that it
oiiantUvtriCal can cons*ruct these concepts, and knows what they are when constructed.
Geometry postulates of every student that he should make them for himself.
The language of these is, "draw a line" "conceive or construct a plane" "think of a
point." It lays the foundations for its reasonings in these postulates. It defines the mean-
ing of these constructions by analyzing their relations to one another and to the space
to which they all have a common relation. It illustrates, or as we usually say, demon-
strates the relations unknown before by referring to new constructions made concrete in some
material substance, for example, by a cube or sphere, a cone, a dot, a chalk line, a rough surface
on blackboard, or paper included by marks — which are no mathematical lines but serve
to represent them and hold the attention to what they represent. In the so-called demonstra-
tion of Geometry one figure is supposed to be drawn in connection with another. Additional
figures are placed by the side of those already constructed, or those already drawn are divided
so as to enable the mind to bring into comparison figures that had been inaccessible and
incommensurable. But as it is with the original and simpler definitions or postulates so is it
with these complex constructions. Space is supposed as the necessary attendant of each and
of all, making it possible to construct them and to evolve the new relations which the mind
discerns by skilfully preparing and combining the required figures. As has already been
shown, § 457, the nerve and force of the geometrical demonstration rests more upon these suces-
sive intuitions than upon that element in it which is properly deductive.
8 571. The concepts of number are conditioned upon certain
Conditions of the ° x . * .
concepts of num- relations of objects and phenomena to time. Objects to be
capable of number must be contemplated in a continued
series. This only is possible by the known and recognized relation of
such objects to the mind's continued or sustained action as it contemplates
them in succession. They must also be viewed reciprocally as wholes and
parts. This is possible only as the mind gathers objects viewed as
arranged in a series into a group which it breaks up into parts, reuniting
these parts with each other at its will, making its units larger or smaller
according to its caprice. To both these relations time is the necessary
§572. MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS: TIME AND SPACE. 553
condition, to the continued subjective act of the mind in connecting
objects into a series, and to the recalling of them as thus connected, so that
they may be arranged and grouped as wholes and parts by the successive
additions of units.
It has been already shown, what it is to number or count, and that
to the act of counting, time must be assumed as both the subjective and
objective condition. The relations by which objects are viewed or
connected in the act of counting when abstracted, generalized, imaged
and symbolized, are the relations of number.
These relations can be applied to any objects whatever — to material objects, to
number can be spiritual objects, to acts or states of the mind itself, to the very acts of the
anv objects ^ mind in numbering, in short, to any thing which can become an object of direct
or reflex cognition. Any series of objects can be used as the symbols or im-
ages of number. We may use objects most unlike one another, contemplating them only in their
numerical relations, or we may select those very nearly alike, and presenting so few points or
features of interest as not readily to distract the mind from the single relations conditioned by
time. Thus a row of marbles, of kernels of grain, or a series of marks is usually selected. Such ob-
jects can be readily interchanged with one another, and therefore suggest little more than their
numerical relations. Tor convenience of recording and recalling the results of the processes
of counting, arbitrary symbols have been selected. Thus, for two objects made one by a single
addition, we employ the symbol of two marks, as in the Eoman system, II, later, the Arabic
character 2 ; then III, 3 ; then, instead of five marks we use V Horn, and 5 Ar.; instead of four
and six, V diminished by 1 going before, and increased by 1 following, or the Arabic characters,
5 and 6, etc., etc.
§ 572. The principal concepts of number are the unit, the
The principal y y.m _ 7 . 7 y 7. . .
concepts of sum, the difference, the multiple, the divisor and the ratio.
For our purposes these need not be separately and carefully
defined. It is sufficient for us to notice that they stand for the relations
of objects as viewed in a continued series, i. e., contemplated as parts that
can be augmented by a constant addition, or repeated one by one or
group by group ; or, again, as a whole that can be diminished by a constant
subtraction, or be separated into equal parts that are themselves more or
less numerous.
These concepts cannot be so readily defined as they can be imaged and exemplified. To
explain and illustrate what they are we must take objects and count them. Their meaning is
originally taught and repeatedly explained by the directions, do so and so with them, take ob-
jects and count them thus and thus. In other words, they rest upon postulates as truly as do
the concepts of geometry. They assume that the mind can perform certain thought-processes
which result in certain thought-products. The psychological conditions of these processes are
distinguished objects, whether material or spiritual. Their logical condition is the reality of
time-relations, and of time itself as making these relations possible. That number depends
upon and implies time, is obvious still further, from the language which we continually use in
our definitions and analyses. "We say, add this so many times ; ten taken twice, i. e. two times ten,
is twenty ; ten divided one time by five, or diminished once by three, is respectively two and
seven.
554 THE HUMAtf INTELLECT. §574
'.'■'§ 573. The application of number to magnitude, or of the
The application ° ' Jrx '* . v '
of number to concepts of discrete to those of continuous quantity, depends
magnitude. . V. ,•
on the mutual relations of time and space objects which have
already been explained, § 557. If number can be applied to the parts of
space and time in the concrete, so that one can measure the other, then the
concepts of number can be applied to the concepts of magnitude, for both
of these are resolved into and explained by their origin in individual time
and space objects. We take any portion of space as a whole, we divide it
into parts, we number these parts, we discern ratios between them. We
express the powers of curves by their equivalent formulae of lines, as symbo-
lized by numbers, creating all those conceptions and performing those pro-
cesses which modern analysis has discovered and applied.
VIII. Of the application of mathematical conceptions to Material
phenomena.
Why, and how §574. Thus far we have considered the pure mathematics.
cai concepts are Pure geometry seems to deal only with ideal constructions
applicable to ma- . ■ °_ ■ -, • , . -i i i • i • -i i
teriai objects. m ideal space, and pure arithmetic and algebra with ideal
concepts conditioned by abstract or ideal Time. How can it be possible
to apply these ideal creations to material things and sensible phe-
nomena? To this general question we give the following general answer.
These concepts of number and magnitude, are all generalized from the in-
dividual relations of concrete objects and events to both space and time.
We cannot explain or understand them except as we go back to such ob-
jects and find them realized in these. In the order of time and acquisition
we know applied number and applied magnitude before we know pure
number and pure magnitude. The latter are always explained by the
former.
Moreover, as number and magnitude are in a certain sense idealized
when they are affirmed of concrete objects, and the mind discerns a differ-
ence between the ideal and the real, so is it when these concepts are gener-
alized and the inferences from them are reapplied to these objects. We
do not expect that they will exactly conform. Certain properties of
matter were necessarily left out of view in forming such concepts. These
must all be considered and brought into view to modify our ideal inferences.
In estimating the velocity of bodies Ave consider them as capable of con-
stant force and of accelerated motion, the force being manifested in, and
estimated by motion. When wTe compare the results of our mathematical
processes we do not find that they hold good. Why should they ? Our
data were ideal. They assumed what rarely if ever actually occurs,
i. e., a force entirely constant and equable. Or if this were real, certain
properties or attributes of moving bodies were omitted in our estimate of
the result, e. </., the increase of resistance with the increase of velocity.
§575. MATHEMATICAL DELATIONS : TIME AND SPACE. 55 i
Example in Me-
In. Mechanics, bodies are viewed as attracted by gravitation, as held togethc
by cohesion, as impelled by a natural or artificial agency, as capable of both
chanics. force and motion, as acquiring and losing velocity. But gravitation, in these
concepts, is idealized as a constant force manifested in motion, the rapidity
of which is inversely as the square of the distance. The nature of gravity itself as a ma-
terial agent, is not considered, nor that of inertia; nor is the resistance of intervening media,
but only the simple fact of motion, or a tendency to motion, with certain constant relations to
space and time. In like manner cohesion is conceived as manifested in the phenomena of mo-
tion. So the laws and properties of bodies in motion and pressure are expressed by space and
time relations. Whether bodies do in fact move or tend to move with regularity in these
relations so that their motions can be measured and computed, are facts that can be ascertained
and vouched for by observation and induction only.
In illustration of this we observe that Newton's great laws in respect
Newton's great to the causes and continuance of force and motion are all generalized
laws of Mechan- °
ics. observations of facts of sense enforced on grounds of high probability. In
other words, they are grounded upon induction. These laws or facts being
assumed, we reason and compute with respect to the direction and rate of bodies in mo-
tion, with respect to the pressure and weight of bodies tending to move, and with re-
spect to the results of bodies conspiring together in motion, just as we can reason or com-
pute with respect to a sizeless or weightless point that is supposed to move in a breadthless
line. That is, we apply to these material objects the concepts, relations and laws of the
pure mathematics. But when we compare the results of our computations and demonstrations
with bodies actually existing and phenomena actually occurring, we find that the two do not coin-
cide. When we find that the prophecy given by the demonstration or computation is not fulfilled
by the facts of the velocity, weight, or pressure of the material bodies with which we come in
contact, we account for the discrepancy by those elements or properties which we were
obliged wholly or partially to disregard, such as inertia, resistance, friction, and the like. In
many cases these are so unimportant that we subject them to no estimate, but take the result
as exact enough for our purposes. In other cases, as in gunnery, astronomy, and the working
of machinery, we seek to express the value and effect of these very forces in mathematical
concepts and formulae, and subject them to mathematical computation, according to the prin
ciples and methods which had been applied to the prime forces.
§ 575. As all material objects must of necessity hold relations to space, and all material
All material ob- events or phenomena relations to time, and as our perceptions of each must be formed in
jects susceptible some or^er of time, it follows that they all are susceptible in some sort of mathematical
relations. relations. The tendency to seek and expect regularity and uniformity in these relations
was very naturally suggested and very early developed to the thoughts of men. It was
natural to believe that the heavenly bodies which moved, or appeared to move, advanced at regular rates of
speed and returned to their starting places at uniform intervals of time. This expectation prompted the ear-
liest observations of astronomy, and its conclusions rest on the inductions which this speculation excited.
When the phenomena of matter began to be accounted for by their causes, and the active agents or
forces of nature were ascertained, it was natural to believe that these several efforts and products
were obedient to and dependent upon the mathematical relations of the working of these causes, either
their quantity of matter, the rate of their motion, or both of these combined. Exact observations and care-
ful experiments confirmed the truth of these anticipations in respect to many phenomena, and in this way
was evolved what are called the laws of mechanics, both on the earth and in the heavens. The successful
discovery and establishment of one mathematical law after another by Galileo, Kepler, Newton, and La-
place, greatly extended the domain of this kind of knowledge.
When the agents or elements of the new chemistry were discovered, and their nature
determined, as oxygen, hydrogen, etc., and when many well-known substances were de-
chemistry, composed into these and kindred elements ; when, also, the reality of chemical union
and chemical products was vindicated, the bright thought of the mathematical Dal-
ton that these agents unite with one another in constant weights of atoms or
volumes of gas at the same temperature, introduced a luminous order into the whole sphere of chemical
science, and subjected its wonderful phenomena to the control of definite mathematical laws. Upon this
556 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §575.
conjecture, verified into a discovery, rests the precise nomenclature of the later chemistry and its compact
and almost algebraic symbolization.
As the consequence of these remarkable discoveries of a rigid obedience to mathematical law in
the most poetical of the physical sciences, the impression was confirmed in the minds of many students
of nature, that we ought to expect and seek for the observance of mathematical relations in every depart-
ment of matter, even in those material conditions on which psychological phenomena depend. It was
early discovered that the quality of harmonious musical tones emitted from a stringed instrument de-
pends on the length of the strings and the coincidence of their vibrations ; that when the string on being
struck springs backward and forward in the same or proportional times, the sound which pleases the ear
is the result, while if the times or fractions of times in these vibrations fail to correspond, discordant and
displeasing tones are certain to follow.
By and by, light, or the material agent or condition of vision, was subjected to scientific
thought and inquiry. It was first conceived to be a material substance, the particles
•Hcs ° a °^~ °^ "^idi Proceed in right lines from all luminous and illuminated bodies, from
which lines they are reflected and refracted by material agents, so as to produce
the effects, or, more exactly, to furnish the conditions of vision. To these pro-
cesses of reflection and refraction, mathematical relations and formulas were at once applied with the same
propriety as they had been previously used to explain the motions of other bodies. As the phenomena
corresponded to these mathematical formulae, the formulae themselves were accepted as their established
laws, and the laws of light as expressed by mathematical relations took their place among the laws of other
material bodies. When the theory of undulations was suggested, and the phenomena of light were sup-
posed to admit of a more satisfactory explanation on the supposition of the excitement and propagation of
a series of wave-like motions in the matter of light, the mathematical relations proper to such undula-
tions were at once brought into requisition, and formulas appropriate to undulating motion were accepted as
expressing the laws of light.
The material conditions of hearing, or the agent or element of sound was tried in its
turn, partly because of the laws which were known to attend those vibrations that yield
To sound and musical tones, and partly because of the success which had been achieved in explaining
by mathematical relations the phenomena of light. The theory was soon accepted, that
these relations are also applicable to the science of acoustics.
Next in order it was suggested, that the sensations of heat can be explained upon the
theory of the more or less rapid vibrations of the particles of matter that are occasioned
To heat. by the subtle agent or influence which is called caloric or heat, if its vibrations are
subject to regular, i. e., to mathematical formulae and laws. "Whether heat itself
is only a form or mode of motion, so that the phenomena can be resolved into moving
particles, or whether these regular motions are only the attendant signs of the presence of a specific agent ;
it is almost an accepted truth that the laws of heat can be expressed by formulae appropriate to motion.
The attempt has been made to account for the conditions of taste, smell, and touch by the vibration
of material particles in objects as responded to by the vibrating nervous substance, but no facts or laws
have yet been educed which give to this attempt more than the semblance of success.
The suggestion has more than once been confidently urged, that the varying phenomena
_, , , . - of the whole physical universe may be resolved by supposing masses or particles of mat-
the correlation ter either moving or having a tendency to move according to fixed mathematical re-
of forces. lations. It is obvious, as has already been observed, that every material object, whether
a mass or a molecule, is capable of holding certain relations to space and time, and is
thereby capable of those relations which are called mathematical. In this we find provision for the possi-
bility that matter, in all its phenomena, should act according to mathematical formulae. This possibility
was conceived by one of the earlier philosophers to be a fact, when he asserted that number rules all things,
and that harmony, rhythm, and even music pertain to the motions of the heavenly bodies. Plato, in a
moment of sagacious insight reaching almost to inspiration, exclaimed, God geometrizes. He said this with
confident enthusiasm, indeed, yet not without decisive grounds of reason, for he could not believe it possi-
ble that the Great Architect, if he could construct and move the universe according to the relations and laws
made possible by space and time, should avoid doing so. To establish this conjecture into, a fact has been
the slow work of science during the centuries that have intervened, and its work is not yet complete.
It is one thing to believe, and even to prove that all the laws of matter can be expressed
in mathematical formulas, and another to ascertain what these formulas are. It was easy to
believe with Pythagoras that number must rule in the universe, but it required the close ob-
servation and experimenting of centuries to bring the human mind to a standpoint from
which it could determine the numbers according to which chemical elements unite and are de-
composed. So also it was natural, and almost necessary, for Plato to believe that the Architect
of the heavens built and moves the celestial bodies by geometrical relations and laws ; but it
§ 576. MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS : TIME AND SPACE. 557
required the observation and thought of Ptolemy, Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, before Newton
and Laplace could fix the laws and formulae under which the geometry of the heavens is no*
comprehended and expressed.
IX. Of the application of mathematical relations to Psychical phe
nomena.
Application of § 5^6, J^J1 earnest an(* persistent effort has been made to subject the phenom
mathematics to ena of the soul to mathematical formulas and relations, similar to those which
soul ; arguments hold good of material objects and agencies. The grounds or reasons for thia
for lt# attempt are : First. Analogy would lead us to suppose that the media by which
alone material phenomena are satisfactorily explained, may in some way or other be employed
to account for the phenomena of the soul. Second. There is a large and important class of
mental phenomena which seem to act according to the general methods which govern the phe-
nomena of matter. Such are those forces which regulate the return of objects previously
known, as in memory or imagination. These objects, or the mind's impressions of them, seem
to be endowed with a force or tendency by which one struggles with another for the mastery,
like mechanical or chemical forces, and the question which shall prevail is determined by the
preponderant strength of one over the other. Third. If we cannot apply mathematical relations
to psychological facts, then we cannot reduce these facts to science at all. Mathematical re-
lations are the essential conditions of scientific knowledge. In the earlier stages of scientific
knowledge, facts explained and arranged by their conditions and causes might be called science,
but it is not so at present. The expression of laws by means of mathematical formulas, is
essential to constitute any species of knowledge scientific.
Over against these considerations may be urged the following. First. The
Arguments analogy between material and psychical phenomena is too remote or feeble to
view?S 1 warrant the inference in question. As we pass from the one to the other, we
are more impressed by the differences than we are by the similarities that
present themselves. We are justified in the inference that much may be true of the one which
cannot hold good of the other. Again, we observe that the higher psychical phenomena,
those which are preeminently and distinctively spiritual, are peculiar in this, that in them the
soul exerts an agency which is self-active and free, and in this is totally unlike those which
are passive and inert. In these higher functions there seems scarcely to be a feature of like-
ness with the phenomena to which mathematical or material properties belong. Take the
act itself of apprehending mathematical relations, and of measuring material force by means
of them, or acts such as those by which Plato or Pythagoras surmised, and Newton or Dalton
demonstrated that these relations give laws to the material universe. Can it be conceived that
such an act should itself be the result of psychical forces acting according to these very laws ?
If so, then by the operation of forces acting according to mathematical laws are evolved the
convictions that these laws hold good of the universe. Second. The psychical phenomena
which are in any degree analogous to those material forces which are mathematically deter-
mined do not and cannot exist or move in space, and therefore are incapable of any known or
estimable relations to space. All those forces which are measured by mathematical relations
are spatial in their action. It is impossible that mental forces or phenomena shouJd come
under similar relations. The conceptions and relations by which they are conceived as mov-
ing, striving against, excluding, and repressing one another, are figurative expressions arising
from the necessities of language. They cannot be pressed to a literal construction. Inas-
much, then, as these forces have no relation to space, one of the essential conditions of
mathematical laws, it may be they are exempt entirely from such laws. Third. It is to beg
the question to assert that if mental phenomena cannot be regulated by mathematical laws,
they cannot be the subjects of scientific estimates. No one has a right to assume that scien
tific knowledge must cease where mathematical relations cannot apply.
558 THE HUMAH INTELLECT. § 577
X. Of the relation of space and time concepts to Motion.
can time and § 577. It has already been shown that the space and time
space relations, . - ' . _. • ; .
etc., be still far- relations oi objects can be generalized as truly as their sen-
edT l sible or spiritual properties, and when so generalized can
become universals of a very wide extension. The inquiry naturally sug-
gests itself whether these relations can be still further generalized, and so
be included under a concept of a still wider extension, as well as
be subordinated under one another. In other words, can the here-ness,
the there-ness, the distance, the breadth, the height, depth, and solid content
of material objects, or their correlated mental images be set forth under a
group of relations or attributes which are of still wider extent or appli-
cation than themselves ? Likewise, can the now-ness, the then-ness, the
past-ness, the futurity and duration, of an event be also generalized in a
similar way ?
Last of all, can time and space relations be brought together, and generalized by means
of the relations common to the two, so that they can be coordinated in a logical classification,
and can be defined by logical definitions ? These inquiries have often been made and answered
with more or less success by different philosophers. The fact that they have been made, indi-
cates the interest that has been awakened in the subject, and illustrates the strength of the
tendency which impels the mind to generalize and unite all the objects of its knowledge, even
those which are so attenuated and abstract as space and time.
One of the most general properties or attributes of material objects is their
of raoUou^Bu^ capacity for motion. Every material thing can be moved. The eye and the
gests space-rela- hand learn to separate the objects of perception from the great universe with
which they are at first united, by the circumstance that they are moved and
movable. The limiting surfaces, edges and corners of such objects are determined and traced
out by the moving of the hand or the eye along or up to their several limits. Every act of
motion brings with it the possible suggestion of some one of the relations of space. As an
edge or surface cannot be perceived without involving to the percipient the relation of either
to space, and as motion enables the mind to follow or apprehend the edge or surface, so
does motion become the medium of bringing the relations of linear or superficial extension to
imagination and thought. If the direction of the moving limit be changed, and the line
or lines, the surface or surfaces are followed by the moving hand or the moving eye to the
place of starting, then a superficies, or a solid portion of space, must be included to the
touching hand, the following eye, the picturing imagination, and the generalizing thought.
These motions, with their directions, can neither be perceived nor imagined without suggesting
the corresponding relations to space of the objects which have moved, or which are bounded
by moving objects.
We conclude, then, that there is not a single relation of space which
cannot at once be brought before the mind, and, as it were, be created to
the fancy by some act or process of motion. Motion is, therefore, equally
extensive with all these relations. It attends them all. It can suggest
them all. Each one of them can, therefore, in a certain sense, be expressed
and defined in terms and concepts of motion.
§577. MATHEMATICAL EELATIOXS : TIME AND SPACE. 559
Not only is this true of the relations of extension, but
tions of position, even those of position can be expressed by means of motion.
The meaning of here and there, above and below, behind
and before, are all definable by acts of motion — to and from, this way and
that way, — -joined with counter or arresting motions, which stop their
progress. When the question is asked of a child, What do you mean by
these terms ? it invariably replies by explanations of this kind. It says,
in effect, Move an object in this or that direction, and then arrest it, and
it will be here or there, before or behind, above or below.
The relations of time can also be generalized by means of
tiJns^time!13* motion. The motion of material objects suggests the rela-
tions of time as truly as it does the relations of space. A
moving body suggests duration as truly as it does extension, when the
motion is complete ; the act of starting suggests then as truly as it does
there ; the act of stopping suggests now as well as here. It may have come
to do so by a secondary and transferred meaning, but it does so in fact and
by a universal and inevitable connection.
Even when time is thought or affirmed of mental acts and events, it is still
Time-relations : represented by motion in space. Every such act is capable of being at-
by motion. tended by some bodily movement. In point of fact, every mental act or state
is so attended, whether it is observed or not. Hence, by a natural conse-
quence, when time is affirmed of processes (or states) that are purely spiritual, its relations are
expressed in language and thought by motions that are corporeal. As the language and con-
cepts of time, when applied to the spirit, are taken exclusively from space-relations, originally
derived from material objects, so do such concepts come under the relations to motion which
these involve. It follows that motion furnishes all the materials /or a common generalization
of both space and time objects, and that time and space relations by means of motion can be
comprehended by a common classification in the same logical system.
It also follows that mathematical entities or quanta are produced to the mind
Also mathema- ana defined by means of motion, the motion in such case being both imaged
and generalized. This follows of necessity of what has already been ex-
plained of the relation of concrete objects and events to the several concepts
of magnitude and number. The truth of this proposition is still further confirmed by the
language of mathematical definitions. These definitions always rest upon, and can be ex-
pressed by postulates. These postulates always suppose an act or acts of motion. In geome-
try we say, draw a line ; terminate or bisect a line, giving a point ; move a line and it gives a
surface. In arithmetic and algebra we say count, that is, unite as wholes, or add, subtract, mul-
tiply and divide ; all of which terms suggest or suppose some image taken from spatial motion
as the result of the constant conjunction already adverted to, of the duration of the con-
scious spirit with its attendant measured space.
in what sense is It ought however to be kept in mind, that motion is not
StioiTof gener- the medium or instrument of generalization in precisely the
aiization . same way as the other attributes or properties of matter and
spirit become so. Thus, we define the notion egg, by the various
properties which constitute its logical essence, or, as we say, make up its
definition. So, too, we define a material act which is complex, by resolv
560 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §577.
ing it into its simpler constituents, going back till we reach those which
are ultimate and indecomposible. In a similar way we define spiritual
beings and spiritual acts. In both cases we begin with the most generic
concepts, and come down to those which are more specific. For the ex-
planation of these properties or attributes, whether generic or specific,
we must resort to experience, either of sense-perception or consciousness.
This experience is presupposed in all definition. Simple ideas cannot be
defined or analyzed. No definition can convey to the blind the meaning
of color [generic] or of red color [specific].
Time and space attributes [more exactly time and space relations] are not given to expe-
rience precisely as are sensible and spiritual properties. They are involved in all experience,
but they are not properly experienced. The space-relations of a concrete object are not
apprehended by sense-perception in the narrowest sense of the term, but in connection with
sense-perception. The same is true of time relations as apprehended by consciousness.
When these objects are imaged, the same distinction is to be observed between what we
directly experience, aad what is given with experience, and, in a certain sense, is involved in
experience. "We can only image what we perceive. We cannot, as has been already said,
§ 566, image or picture space or time relations as such, but we can image those objects of
sense and consciousness which involve space and time relations. Motion is not an object of
sense-perception in the narrow meaning of the term, but it ia its constant condition and
accompaniment, i. e., it always involves some space-relations, and for this reason it can become
the means by which these relations can be generalized and defined. For the explanation
of the import of its terms and the concepts which they designate, we must refer to experience
as we do in the case of sensible and spiritual qualities, i.e., we must assume and presuppose
that every one knows what motion is in all its directions and varieties. With this medium
at our command, we proceed to our constructions and definitions.
To this view two objections may be urged. The first is, that space and time are as truly
Two objections, assumed and involved in the concept and definition of motion, as motion is required for
lirst, that mo- the concepts and definitions of space and time. We define motion, it is said, as a change
Space and Time. °^ P^ace> an^ place is a relation of space. The objection is more plausible than real.
The terms change and place are indeed used in this attempted definition, but that does
not prove that both are not definable by concepts of motion. What is place but some determinable or de-
termined relation of space ? But how is it determinable or determined except by means of motion ? How is
change of any sort, whether material or spiritual, made conceivable or general to the mind except by
means of spatial motion? The question to be decided is, which furnishes the most general of elements or
media for general concepts or definitions ; which concept is the most generic, the concept of space or the
concept of motion. It might be granted, perhaps, that the percepts and images of motion and space
are equally original and therefore coordinate, and yet it would not follow that the concept of the one was
not more generic than the concept of the other. The same may be said of the intuition and concept of
time as compared with those of motion.
Again : it is obvious that we may have an intuition of motion as of sense-percepts per
Their relations se, without adverting distinctly to the relations of either to space. We may see a colored
to motion not j^g or f0now a moving body in a linear path, without distinguishing by analysis the
verted to. length of either as involving the space to which the length or superficies is related.
This being so, the motion might be more suitable as a medium of generalizing our con-
cepts of space relations than the space and its relations which it is desirable to conceive and define by
means of motion. That to which the mind first and most readily attends ; that which it most familiarly
recalls ; that which it most easily recognizes, would be better fitted for such a purpose thaji that which is
less obvious and less familiar, even though both were equally general.
It is urged again, that the rate of motion is always estimated by means of time: the
It is urged that swiftness or slowness of motion from one point of space to another is computed by the
the rates of mo- longer or shorter time which is required to move from the one to the other. This is
ma ted' by time." *rue> tut eo &Sa^a is it truc tna* duration itself, as longer or shorter, is described and
conceived by the length of spaco passed over by a body supposed to be moving
etcadily ; and that two or more equal portions of duration are measured and set forth by the same or equal
§578. MATHEMATICAL EELATIOXS : TIME AND SPACE. 561
portions of space passed over by a moving body. Motion involves time and space, else it could not gene-
-iiilize oi' define either. Both time and space are presupposed as the conditions of motion. Eeal time and
:tal space are assumed in order that the concepts of motion Bhould be possible, but it does not follow that
that which is selected as the means by which both are generalized into concepts is not that motion which is
so intimately connected with each as to suggest both whenever it is perceived or imaged.
The second objection would be that not motion only, but motion and direction are re-
Second objec- quired for the generalization of space and time objects, and especially for the construc-
tion, that direc- tion an^ definition of mathematical quanta. A line cannot be drawn or conceived as
as well as mo- straight or curved, without introducing the element of direction to a fixed point or of
tion. variation from it. One or more continuous surfaces cannot be made to include a con-
tent of space without a change in direction which is observed and recognized as an ele-
ment in its product or construction. Let this be granted, and still it does not follow that the concept of
motion is not the most generic. Direction supposes motion ; direction is specific and is itself a means of
making specific the more generic concept of motion. Motion cannot occur or be conceived of without
taking some direction, any more than without implying space and time as its real conditions. This rather
proves than otherwise that motion is itself the most generic or the ultimate concept of all. Cf. A. Tren-
delenburg, Logische Uhtcrsuchungen, Berlin, 1840. Ite Aufl., Leipzig, 1862.
8 578. The extended and enduring objects which Ave have
Extended and ° - -. n -, . • -, i . -, , i •
enduring objects thus far considered, are limited objects, and the relations to
are limited. ... _ . . , ■ ' , - . ' _ ' - -_ , 1 _.
space and time which they involve belong to these objects
as limited. Whether these objects with their relations are presented by
sense-perception or consciousness, are represented to the imagination
or generalized in thought, they are necessarily definite and limited. The
so-called dimensions of extension — length, breadth, and thickness, — and
the various relations of duration, can only be affirmed of finite beings and
activities. These beings must occupy portions of space. Every length,
every breadth and thickness perceived, is definite in its dimensions. So
is it with every one of either that is represented. So is it with every one
that is generalized ; even the general conceptions of either contemplate and
suppose only some definite dimensions of each. The generic word exten-
sion supposes extension as applied to limited and measurable objects, and
therefore always signifies limited extension. The same is true of duration
and its attributes or relations. Even mathematical relations can only be
conceived of as limited or definite quantities. These, as we have seen,
presuppose some objects imagined to exist in space, or series of such objects
connected by acts continuous in time, of which certain attributes and
relations are affirmed, i.e., they invariably presuppose limited objects.
Mathematics re- Mathematical science has to do only with mensurable and of course with def-
cognizes meas- inite quantity. The infinite and indefinite have properly no place in mathe-
u r a b 1 e, and . n _■/ . „ , . , .,.„...,
therefore de- matics. T\ hat is called the mathematical infinite is either a quantity as yet
finite quantity^ not measureci or numbered, or quantities in respect to which these processes
have been begun but are not yet completed ; or a quantity so nearly commensurable that the
one may be substituted for the other. The so-called infinite quantities of the mathematics are
quantities not yet actually or proximately defined, i. e., mensurable but not yet measured or de-
fined. They should be carefully distinguished from what, in distinction from them, may be called
the actual infinite or unconditioned. Not that the two are wholly unrelated, or independent of
one another, but that they are by no means the same. The conception of the mathematical
l.tjnite or indefinite may be rendered possible by the real infinitude of time and space, but as
concepts the two are wholly diverse, if indeed we can be said to have any concept at all cf the
latter.
36
562 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §579.
XL Of Space and Time as infinite and unconditioned.
Extension and § 579. The several attributes of extension and duration are
guisned from, not only attributes of limited objects and therefore mensura-
space and time, ble and definable, but they involve relationship to another
sort of objects, and a knowledge of the existence of these objects. These
objects are space and time. The attributes of extension and duration,
though predicable of matter and spirit and their phenomena, are unlike
the qualities of matter and spirit in that they have no positive import
given in the experience of sense and consciousness, but in their nature
carry the mind to other objects to which they hold relations. The definite
length or breadth, the superficial or solid content of a material box or
ball are not only afiirmable of the matter of which the box or ball consists,
but imply a relation to, and are attributable of, the object or objects
adjacent ; whether these are material, one or many, as the air which sur-
rounds them, or which if hollow they are conceived to include ; or whether
these are void of all matter whatever. The adjacent object or objects are
in their turn limited objects, and besides, their material qualities hold
similar relations to other objects, whether these possess or are void of
material qualities. The duration of one or more acts or events is not
merely afiirmable of one or more of the acts or events, but it involves
possible relations to other acts and events — coexistent, preceding and fol-
lowing— and also to the Time to which all are related and whose existence
they all imply.
Nothing is more clear to human cognition than that the so-called material and spiritual
properties are distinguishable from their attributes of extension and duration. The peculiar-
ity of the last consists in their being in their very nature space and time relations. That is,
while they are predicable, and therefore properties of things and events, they imply and reveal
relations to those entities or objects which are called time and space.
These attributes and properties, when considered collectively are or may be called exten-
sion and duration. The appropriate names of the entities to which these properties involve
relations, are time and space. Thus distinguished, extension and duration, i. e., extension and
duration in the concrete or the extension and duration of individual objects, are known by
experience, while space and time, as soon as they are apprehended at all, are known to be
d priori, i. e., the necessary and fundamental conditions of all actual existences and events as
extended and enduring.
These relations ^ *s not asserte(^ tnat m aPplymg these attributes to objects
not always die- of experience the mind necessarily adverts to the relations
tinctly adverted r J
to. ' to time and space which they imply, but only that when the
mind gives attention to them, it cannot fail to discover that these relations
are implied, and with them the existence of time and space. To make
this discovery the mind may need to make the experience of many objects
of sense and consciousness. It may need the discipline of many acts of
attention to separate and analyze what is at first known confusedly and
without discrimination.
§580. MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS : TIME AND SPACE. 563
In order fully to appreciate the time and space relations of objects and events to one
another as well as to time and space themselves, the imagination may need to be called into
exercise. One material object may need to be annexed to another and still others to all these,
before space can be fully understood in all the relations which it involves to the extended
objects thus believed or supposed to exist, or to other extended objects besides. In like
manner, many events must be experienced, in order that the common relations of all these,
and of all conceivable enduring objects, to time, may be distinctly apprehended and clearly
distinguished from the time which is common to them all. The psychological conditions of
knowledge are clearly distinguishable from the nature and the evidence of the objects that are
known. The one describes the subjective conditions that render it possible for an individual
to employ and apply his mind in such a manner as to discern a fact or truth. The other
describes objectively, what in its nature is knowable by all individuals under these subjective
conditions, and the evidence, if there be any, by which it is known.
■ . , , „ We have already indicated the several stages or degrees of progress through
Discerned at the . . , , . , , . .,,.„. « , . , .
last of the stages which the mind may proceed in mastering the full import of, and m reachmg
development distinct assent to, the remoter objects and relations that are gained by Intui-
tion. We have clearly distinguished between the clearness and certainty
of that which is knowable and the possibility that it should be clearly and certainly known
by this or that individual or even by this or that class of men.
These attributes, known collectively as extension and duration, are not on the one hand
properly qualities of material or spiritual beings and their acts, nor, on the other, are they the
supersensible entities themselves, called Space and Time, but they are the relations of the objects
and phenomena of sense and consciousness to these supersensible entities. Being relations they
imply the reality of the objects related, and they cannot be understood or known except by
means of these objects.
§ 5 80. Extension and duration are also the limits or the grounds
j^aSdevente! of the limits of objects and events. Not only are they rela-
tions of objects to supersensible entities, but they enable the
mind to distinguish objects from one another as diverse in place, as near,
remote, here, and there; as in this or that direction ; as now, then, past, pres-
ent and future. These pertain not to space and time, but to objects and
events as related to Space and Time, and therefore and by this means to
one another as also related to space and time.
Strictly speaking, when these relations are used as limits, they are relations not between
the concrete object and time or space, but to two objects as existing in space or in time,
or as conceived thus to exist. When, for example, I perceive a box either inclosing or inclosed
by what we call a void, and affirm that which is without, is not that which is within, or con-
versely ; both that which is without and within are conceived as matter with surfaces mutually
coinciding, but yet dividing or limiting the one from the other. If I conceive of the outmost
limit of the universe of matter and ask what is beyond, immediately as I ask the question I
attach the limiting surface to other matter which is conceived to be beyond, and the outlines of
which I begin to trace by the constructive motion of which the imagination is capable. Of this
outline, one portion, viz., the limiting surface already described, is fixed. The others are not
yet drawn; the mind has no occasion even to conceive them drawn, and it rests in the
knowledge or belief that it might complete them in any way in which it chooses. But as soon
as they should be completed they must necessarily be conceived as inclosed by or inclosed with
matter, for the simple reason that an extended surface of that which has no actual being can-
uot be conceired or thought of.
In a similar way the instant which terminates or limits an event, is the beginning of an
564 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §582.
other as yet inchoate or incomplete. So the beginning of an event already past, is the end of
the event that was transacted before it.
What we call Space and Time are those entities which can be occupied, as we say, by being3
and events, i. e., which render their actual existence possible, and which in rendering them pos-
sible, also make it possible that they should be limited from one another, or distinguished from
one another by their common relations to space and time.
Extension and § 5^* Extension and duration cannot be affirmed of Space
edof Sn'fSS axi(^ Time per se, but of existing material objects and actually
events only. occurring events as mutually related to and limited by one
another by reason of their common relation to space and time. We cannot
conceive of parts of space or time as diverse from one another, or as mutu-
ally related, as here and there, before and after, without the aid of beings
and events. Even those which are conceived to be bounded by surfaces and
lines, as geometrical quantities and the so-called portions of duration,
which may be divided by instants, are only conceivable as occupiable by
bodies and events. The matter of either may be imagined as so refined in
its nature as to admit of great refinement in these limits or relations, but
without the matter conceived as real or possible the limits and relations
are inconceivable.
Relations of place do not belong to space, but to bodies perceived or
imagined to exist in or by space. Relations of time do not belong to
duration, but to events occurring in, or by, i. e., presupposing time.
§ 582. It follows that Space and Time are not limited, simply
In what sense ., . . ,,,.... 7-77, ,i T
space and Time because the conception 01 limits is inapplicable to them. It
is by its very nature only applicable to and afiirmable of ex-
tended matter and occurring events. When we attempt to apply it to
Space and Time we can only do it by means of objects and events. When
we seem to ourselves to have been successful, we find that we have really
though perhaps unconsciously made use of such objects and events. The
conception of limit or limitation is inapplicable to either Space or Time.
It is in this sense that we affirm that Space and Time are unlimited. This
attribute is purely and simply negative. It denies that the relation of limi-
tation which pertains to bodies and acts can pertain to Space and Time.
It does not, however, follow, because Space and Time are not limited, and that
They are not they in this way are negatively distinguished, that they are capable of no positive
ly'relatedf a IYC" attributes. We direct the attention for the present to the negative character
of these relations, in order that we may preserve ourselves from many of the
alleged incompatibilities which are conceived to be involved in the attempt to know or con-
ceive Space and Time. Cf. § 690.
Thus Hamilton (Met. 38) urges that we are under the necessity of conceiving space and
Antinomies of time eitner as an absolute maximum or an absolute minimum, and that it is impossible
Hamilton and to do either, because the mind, as soon as it has fixed the limits to the ultimately great
Kant. or the ultimately small, -will immediately overstep or go beyond the limits which it had
just established, and will find itself continually baffled in its impotent efforts to grasp
or conceive either.
In tho same strain, Kant urges that the mind, in its attempts to conceive of space and time, is con-
§584. MATHEMATICAL KELATIONS *. TIME AND SPACE. 565
tinually setting up two incompatible propositions— which he calls Antinomies— both of which cannot be
true, and yet one of which would seem to be necessary. "Both overlook that the maximum and minimum.
which we attempt to conceive are not spaee and time, bntbodies and events as limited in space and time.
The maximum and minimum in the case are not space and time, nor are they concepts of either, but they are
concepts of bodies and events as related to and limited by space and time. They are limited concepts, and
m their very nature logically inapplicable to objects which cannot be limited. To attempt to think of time
and space under any such concepts, however great or small, is to make an effort which will involve certain
and constant contradiction and inconsistency. To attempt to picture time and space to the Imagination is
impossible, for we can only picture objects and events, with definite properties and characteristics. Evei
when we lay aside all properties except what we call their time and space relations, what we picture 01
imagine are still limited objects in space and time — objects with some defined limits of extension and du-
ration, but not space and time themselves. It is true that every time we picture or image such objects we
must think of their relations to their correlates, time and space ; but time and space, in themselves, can
neither be imaged nor pictured.
Space and Time § 5^3, -A-gain? Space and Time cannot be generalized or ctppre-
aiSedtbunednelr ^enc^ ty or under concepts. Concepts suppose definite
higher concepts, attributes of objects limited by and individualized in Time
and Space. These attributes to be generalized must be similar in the in-
dividuals to which they belong, and these similar and oft-repeated individ-
ualized attributes must be gathered under generalized concepts. But
Time and Space are withdrawn from these conditions of generaliza-
tion, for they are necessarily supposed as the conditions and correlates of
all individual existences and of their attributes. Even the relations of ex-
tension and duration, by which individual objects are possible, cannot be
intelligible except by means of these entities which are the necessary
correlates to these universal properties of all individual existences. The
properties are generalizable, but the entities themselves to which they are
related cannot be generalized. Nor are they in dividual objects, if by that
is intended objects which possess generalizable properties which can be
gathered into concepts.
§ 584. Space and Time cannot in the ordinary sense of the
They cannot T -, „ -» -r~ n n ,
properly be de- term be defined. If we cannot form concepts of these entities
by means of generalized attributes or relations, it is manifest
that we cannot define these concepts, because to define is simply to state
the attributes into which a concept thus formed can be resolved, § 391.
They are not simple concepts, for simple concepts pertain to single inde-
composible attributes or relations, § 390, and no one will for an instant be-
lieve or contend that the import of either is exhausted by any single prop-
erty or relation.
What is demonstrated to be necessary from the nature of the case, is confirmed by fact
and experiment when we submit to trial. Whenever we endeavor to define these entities we
find ourselves employing concepts which presuppose that they are already known. Every con-
cept that we use is an attribute or relation of some object or event which exists in space or
time, and which implies some relation of either to one or both. We fall, therefore, continually
into the circle of using in our definitions terms that presuppose that to be known which we
attempt to define or describe.
Not only is this shown to be necessary from reasons that are purely logical,
Kuaffe. ty laD" ^ut the nature of language confirms this view. Even if we should concede
that attributes . might be found which do not imply space and time, such
566 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §585.
attributes could not be expressed in language without supposing their existence. The exigen-
cies of communication require that every thought attribute and relation, in order to be ex-
pressed, should be imaged by some picture borrowed from Space and Time. Even then, if
Space and Time did not intrude in the attributes by which we seem to define them, they
must necessarily present themselves as images in every such effort, and they could not be
repressed.
When Hamilton says that these entities cannot be conceived, he doubtless has in mind what we here
assert, that they cannot be analyzed into attributes or defined by such attributes as presuppose and imply
their existence. "Whether this is a correct use of the term to conceive, may be a matter of question, and
also whether the further assertion which he makes is true, that we can know by faith or believe what
we cannot in any sense conceive.
They are known § 585- Space and time are known by intuition as the neces-
S ^he^hmlted 8arV conditions of the existence and the conception of all objects
correlates. an(j even|S# Every object and event, as has already been ex-
plained, has properties or attributes which imply the existence of these
entities. In knowing that these objects exist, we know that time and
space exist as their actual conditions. In conceiving of these objects or
events as real or possible, we must conceive of them as related to space
and time, and, of course, must recognize time and space as the logical con-
ditions of their concepts.
While, then, it is true that we can neither generalize nor define time and space, because
the very attributes which we must employ imply both, it is true, on the other hand, that we
cannot generalize or define any object whatever without recognizing both, and, therefore,
time and space must enter as the material into all our concepts. Again :
Though time and space cannot be denned or conceived by
Axe themselves , , . „ , . , ,.,.,. \.
the correlates of the relations oi obiects and events which imply time and
the extended J j. V,
and enduring. space, yet, on the other hand, as the correlates ol all such
objects, they can be explained to the mind by means of the limited rela-
tions which imply their real existence. It is so far from being true that,
because space and time are known by intuition, they are known out of all
or any relation to limited objects and events ; that it is only possible to
know them in such relations, or connections. They are only known as
implied in and required by the relations which are called collectively the
extension and duration of such concrete realities. And yet, as has been
shown, they cannot be generalized nor defined by means of any attributes
or relations whatever, because all such imply their existence. They can-
not, on the other hand, be suggested or recognized in either thought or
language, except by means of these very relations which connect them
with finite objects.
It has already been asserted, § 517. (5) that the distinct recognition of these correlates, is,
as it were, the fifth or last stage of the mind's attainment in cognition, which is reached by the
> few who are trained to habits of speculative analysis and discrimination. If this is so, then
it is obvious that the number of thinkers is very small who have any occasion to ask the
question, whether space and time can be defined, or whether they are known out of relation
to, or by means of their relations to the concrete. But the persons who have occasion to ask
MATHEMATICAL EELATIONS : TIME AND SPACE. 5 CI
Jiese questions can certainly comprehend that the very relations which cannot possibly define
time and space, because they imply them, may, for this very reason, be the only medium ol
bringing them before the mind for the uses of thought.
What, then, are space and time f Are they substances, quali
What are space ties or relations ? Or are they the forms or subjective conditions.
of knowledge by sense or consciousness? or is it impossible to
ascertain what they are ? These questions will force themselves upon the
attention of a few ; and require an answer.
Are they substances ? That they are material things with
suKinces not sensible qualities will scarcely be imagined or contended by
any one. No one would honestly believe or seriously urge
that they can be heard, or smelled, or seen, or tasted, or touched.
All substances called material are apprehended by some of the senses,
and hence are regarded as having sensible qualities. Space and time are
not perceived in such a way or by such means, and hence cannot be classed
with material substances. The earliest philosophers might, perhaps, have
regarded them as such in their imperfect analyses or crude theorizing, but
no sane thinker would now advance such a dogma. Nor are they
spiritual beings. They have none of the properties of spirits. They can-
not think, or feel, or will. Nor can they be apprehended by conscious-
ness in the special and limited sense of the term. In a general sense we
say we are conscious of our spiritual acts as enduring, § 554. But this is no
more than to say we are conscious of the necessary relations of these
acts to time. We never say wTe are conscious of any activity of time,
which is analogous to the activities of a spiritual being. Neither time nor
space is a spiritual substance.
Nor are they ma- They are not qualities or properties of spirit or matter. Dr.
ferial or spiri- " M , . • * * m
tuai properties, bamuel Clarke maintained that space and time are attributes
They are not . . . ..; . , _
relations. or modes, and that inasmuch as they were both infinite, there
must be an Infinite Being to which they belong. James Mill, in his
Analysis of the Human Mind, asserts that they are simply abstract terms
which stand for collective conceptions of those attributes of extension and
duration, which belong to individual beings and acts. But it needs no fur-
ther discussion to prove that they are and can be neither. Nor are they
simply relations, as Leibnitz maintained. This philosopher defined c space
as an order of coexistences,' and 'time as an order of successions.' "Pour
moi, 'jai marque plus qu' une fois, * * que je tenais Pespace pour quelque
chose de purement relatif, comme le terns ; pour un ordre des coexistences
comme le terns est un ordre de successions." — Third letter to Dr. 8. Clarice,
§ 4, ed. Erd. p. 752. Using extension as its equivalent, he defines space as
the order of possible coexistences ; and time as the order of inconstant pos-
sibilities. Reply to Bayle, ed. Erd. p. 189. Calderwood defines time as
''a certain correlation of existences," and distinguishes his own view from
568 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §585
that of Hamil *on, who calls it " the image or concept of a certain correla-
tion of existences." The Phil, of the Infinite, 2d ed., 1861, chap. v.
It is evident from what has been said already, that space and time are
neither relations nor correlations, but correlates to beings and events. Ex-
tension and duration are the relations or correlations in question ; but
these involve space and time as realities.
Again: Space and time are not forms of intuition {i.e., presentation! in the
subjective forms sense suggested by Kant. This philosopher taught that if we distinguish the
of the intellect. matter apprehended by perception and consciousness from the forms of this
matter, then space is the form of sense-perception or external intuition, and
time is the form of consciousness. There is a sense in which this doctrine is true. Extension
is the form of all material objects in the sense that all such objects are perceived as extended,
and none can be apprehended except under the form or condition of being extended objects.
When all the matter which is given in the various sensible qualities is thought away, the rela-
tions of extension remain. This matter is various, Each object has qualities of its own,
and variously combined, by which it is distinguished from every other ; but all objects are
extended. The same is true of the matter furnished in consciousness as distinguished from
its relations of duration.
But the doctrine as further expounded by Kant is open to two exceptions. First: He
Kant's doctrine ^a^s *° distinguish between extension and duration as relations and the correlates space
open to two ob- and time which they involve. He does not notice that these very relations, after or
jections. under which all objects and their concepts are and must be formed, do in their very na-
ture involve the intuitive knowledge of space and time as realities, and that to suppose
that they are only forms is to exclude and eliminate that which is given and affirmed by their very nature.
Second: The suggestion or the assumption that they depend on the subjective constitution of the human
intellect is unwarranted by positive evidence and is contradicted by the testimony of the intellect itself.
The supposition that intellects of another order might possibly exist, which could know objects without
the relations of space and time, is without proof and against proof (§ 533). In other words, that which
makes it possible and necessary for extension and duration to be the formsof perception and conscious-
ness is the fact that the objects of these two modes of knowledge are in reality related to the entities space
and time.
But what are these entities? Shall we say of them, as St. Augustine is
How space and J ' °
time are know- reported to have said — "What is time? If not asked, I know, but
attempting to explain, I know not ? "
This, in one view, is correct. We know by intuition that time and space exist, and are
related to every object, but to explain or define what they are, is not so easy. It may relieve
our embarrassment in part to explain why we cannot answer the question in one sense,
and why we can in another. If, in answering the question what, it is expected or re-
quired that we should class them with objects limited by space or time, or objects having
material or spiritual properties, or objects holding relations to space or time, in other
words, that we should class them with beings, qualities, or relations in the ordinary accepta-
tion of these terms, then it is obvious that we cannot answer this question at all. We cannot
say ichat they are. But we know that they exist, I e., there exist realities which answer to the
names. Their existence is implied in the existence of every limited object and property,
because every such object and property is related to them. We cannot believe or know that
the one exists without knowing that the other exists also. But can we in any sense of the
word what explain what it is which we know exists ? We can, so far as to say that they are
entities to which all these limited objects are related, and which are, therefore, correlates to
them. If they are correlates to all limited objects they are known and described by their rela-
tions to them. By their very nature they are entities to which these objects bear these rela-
tions, and by their relations to these objects they are known and thought of. They canno*
§586. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITY.
560
be said to be defined in the sense in which limited objects are defined, but they can be broughl
to mind by language as the necessary correlates of limited existences by means of their rela-
tions to them.
These relations to both space and time are represented in thought and language by means
of motion, as has already been explained, and hence it follows that space and time are set
forth in thought and language by the same medium.
We conclude, therefore, that though space and time cannot be con-
ceived or defined in the sense in which those objects can be conceived and
defined which bear relations to them, yet, on the other hand, they can be
thought by means of their relations to these objects. Limited objects must
be related to their unlimited correlates. These correlates can be known and
described by means of the relations which they in their turn hold to these
objects. In whatever sense they may be said to be unconditioned, infinite,
and absolute, they are not so in any such sense as to exclude the possi-
bility of being related to the limited finite. By means of these relations
they can be both conceived and known.
CHAPTER V.
CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITY.
From the formal and mathematical intuitions we come to those which are real, i. e., which are
required to explain the attributes which are respectively distinctive of material and
spiritual beings I which unite these attributes into those concepts and classes which desig-
nate the real existences and agencies of nature, as well as connect these with one another
in those relations which are necessary for the systematic and rational explanation of the
universe. Into these real relations all the actually existing properties and powers of mat-
ter and spirit are resolved. Under the laws which regulate their operation, the effects
and purposes that describe the universe are accomplished. We shall consider first, the
relation of causality or causation. This is preeminently the relation which is required in
analysis, as by means of this, beings are resolved into those elements of which concepts
are composed, which are more or less nearly their ultimate elementary constituents and are
more or less widely generic or extensive, according as thought and science are more or less
successful in their achievements.
causation as a § 586, ^ne re^ati°n °f causality is sometimes called the JPtvn-
a1£wiple'anda3 c^ei a* °ther times the Law of causality, causation, or cause
and effect. The first of these appellations is subjective and logi-
cal, and designates the place which the relation or the proposition in which
tt is expressed holds in the systematic arrangement of our knowledge, ef,
§ 514. The other is objective and real, and indicates its universal preva-
lence among objects actually existing. Causation as a principle is placed
first or highest with reference to the other concepts or truths which depend
570 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 587
apon or are derived from it — either relatively or absolutely, according as
the truth is received as original or derived. Causation as a law is viewed
as a relation actually prevailing in or ruling over the finite universe of
physical and spiritual being.
Causation as a law may be stated thus : Every finite event is
Se^tatcd. tw° a cause^ event, or, more briefly, is an effect. Causation, as
a principle, may be thus expressed : Every finite event may
be accounted for by referring it to a cause as the ground or reason of its
existence.
It is scarcely necessary to observe, that the proposition, every effect must
Tautology to be nave a cause> *s Purely and simply identical. It is mere tautology, expanding
avoided. in the predicate what had been implied in the subject. The term effect, in
its import, implies a cause by a logical necessity. To say an effect must be
caused, is as reasonable as to say, a caused event is caused, or, xy = x x y.
That the fact or law of causation is assumed to explain and justify reasoning of every sort,
both Deductive and Inductive, has already been shown. A reference to § 515, will serve to
explain and enforce the relation of causation as a law, to causation as a principle, as well as
to illustrate the sameness and difference between a real and a logical relation.
Many Physicists insist that a distinction should be invariably made between the laws
Power and law °f nature and the powers, forces or causal agencies of nature, and that law should be in-
how distinguish- variably restricted to the conditions or regulating methods of the acting or working of
e<l' these powers and forces, a formal statement or formula of which is that alone which de-
serves to be called a law. Tried by this dictum, the phrase, the Law of Causality, would
not be accepted. That it is not improper is manifest, from the consideration that it describes and assumes
the fact, that the causative relation is universally applicable to every event or begun existence. So con-
ceived, the fact may properly be called a Law or Universal Method of nature.
§ 587. Causation, both as law and principle, is affirmed of
w hat j s a n events. But what is an event f An event is something
event ? °
which is known to be, which was not ; or which begins to be
or to occur. Events are, therefore, finite, i. €., limited by relations of space
or time. Their existence or occurrence implies change. Something is
here and now which was not. Of these changes it is affirmed that they
were caused.
In the material world, events are changes of place or relative position, mo-
Events in the tions in space, changes of form, changes of properties in respect to existence or
material world, intensity. If an iron ball is found in a new resting-place ; if we see it hurled
through the air ; if it is beaten into a cubical form ; if it is rolled into a mass,
or drawn into wire ; if, under the strokes of the hammer, it is heated, or magnetized, or made
brittle, these are all events, i. e., new occurrences in the sense of our proposition. They are
often called phenomena, i. e., manifestations to the senses or the consciousness of some
causal power or agency.
Events or phenomena are more numerous and conspicuous in the vegetable and
In the vegetable an^na^ world. There is growth, change of form and of structure, the mani-
a n d animal festation of new colors, odors, etc. Above all, there is constant motion, as in
world.
the plant that waves its stem and top as if impatient that it is fastened by the
roots to the earth ; and in the animal, that moves from place to place, and with its limbs, voice,
and features, is ever making some new manifestation that asks to be explained.
§588. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OP CAUSALITY. 57i
In the mental or spiritual sphere, there is ceaseless activity and endless pro
In the mental duction. New thoughts, new feelings, new purposes flit before the observant
,rorld- eye of consciousness faster than they can be accounted for. With the pro-
gress of time, the mind is aware of an increase of its power to remember, to
imagine, to reason, to feel, and to resolve. All these are events or phenomena.
But besides phenomena of these classes, in acts, states, or qualities, more or
In the produc- ]ess lasting ; there are still others in the existence and production of new and
tion of new be- & ' "
ings. separate beings which deserve preeminently to be called events, of each ot
which a cause or causes are affirmed.
Such are the division or disintegration of masses of matter by mechanical crushing or pres-
sure, and the production of new compounds by chemical union or their decomposition into sim-
pler elements, as the generation of a gas or the deoxydation of a metal. In vegetable and
animal life, we have the seed or the egg, in each of which are the beginnings of a new living
being, which, after passing through the required processes, becomes completely independent
of its originator, and assumes the size, the strength, and developed properties of a separate ex-
istence. Spiritual beings also begin to exist. They emerge to view by acts which show their
presence and their power. They are sources of knowledge, power, wealth, comfort, and hope
to other beings.
Besides these, there are conditions or states more or less permanent which require to be
accounted for, such as the equilibria of forces or pressures, as illustrated in the action of
gravitation or electricity, of fluids, currents, and other tendencies. All these, so far as the
law of causation is concerned, come under the class of events or phenomena.
§ 588. Many of these so-called events and phenomena are
Many events are _ , . t m-i -i ■% r>
combined of sev- a combination oj several. Iney are complexes made up of
many units. But the single or simple units are none the less
truly events than the wholes of which they are constituents. Whether
the event in question is known to he simple, or whether it is not, and yet
is supposed to be simple, the rule holds good of it, that, whether simple
or complex, it must be caused. Hence it makes no difference so
far as the application of our principle is concerned, whether the event
or phenomenon has or has not been subjected to a finished analysis,
i e., whether it has or has not been resolved into its ultimate elements. If
the question be raised, What is an event that cannot be further resolved,
what is a single, or the simplest phenomenon ? we have only to reply, that
any change the least extensive in space, or the briefest possible in time,
which can be discerned by human observation, is a single event. It is
the last product or result of the most refined analysis of which human
knowledge is capable, when assisted by every appliance of discipline and
culture and art.
When we say, every event is caused or has a cause, we distinguish between
Every cause is beings, tneir acts> an^ ^eh products. Every cause is an acting being and
an acting being, an agent acting to some result. The result is the effect. Any thing what-
ever, so far as it is a cause, is a being, and not a phenomenon. It may be
itself an effect or product of the action or causal efficiency of another being or beings, but that
which is produced is capable of action of its own. A mere phenomenon or event as such, is not
regarded as a cause, but only as an effect. What is the difference between an acting being
5*72 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §590
and its capacities, or acts, or attributes, will be considered in its place. It ia enough that at
present we notice that the distinction is real.
8 589. Again : We distinguish between the cause of an event
tinguished from and the conditions of its actually producing the effect. The
stroke of a hammer is the cause of the fracture of a stone,
of the flattening of a leaden bullet, of the heating of a bit of iron. The
conditions of the effect would, in such a case, be said to be the properties
of the stone, the bullet, or the iron. If the breaking, the flattening, or
the heating of the mass are the several effects of the common cause, the
varying effects are ascribed to the varying conditions under which, or the
objects upon which it acts.
In this case the effect is more properly said to be the resultant of the joint action of the
striking hammer and the resisting stone, lead, and iron. This doctrine is thus generalized by
Mill : " The real cause is the whole of these antecedents (or conditions), and we have, philo-
sophically speaking, no right to give the name of cause to one of them exclusively of the
others." Log., B. hi. c. v. §3. To the same effect, says Hamilton: "Every effect is only
produced by the concurrence of at least two causes (and by cause, be it observed, I mean every
thing without which the effect could not be realized)." Met. Lee. 3. In common life a dis-
tinction is made between the efficient and patient cause, the last being put for the object, i. e.,
that in which the causal agency is manifested, or upon which it is exerted. It is obvious that
that whose activity is most obvious or demonstrative, is called the efficient. The patient or
recipient often manifests no force at all, as the cohesion of the stone, lead, or iron in the cases
supposed.
Sometimes the objects in their matter and chief elements are said to be the
When conditions same? but the force or causal agency is applied under diverse conditions of
are laws. quantity, time, or distance, as a chemical agent is doubled ; the gravitating
force operates at a varying distance ; a wave of light acts with twice a given
rapidity. These last are called in scientific language, the laws of the acting of forces or pow-
ers (causal agents) of nature.
8 590. With these explanations "of the import of the terms
The principle of ° .. * .,...,,
causality intui- ot our proposition, we assert that the mind intuitively be-
tively evident. -. , . .
neves that every event is caused, ^. e., every event is pro-
duced by the action of some agent or agents, which, with respect to the
effect, are called its cause or its causes.
The reasons for this view are the following :
(a) All that we do in common or practical life, rests upon
$Eing events" anc* *s directed by the assumption of this truth. Our explan-
ations of events that have occurred would have no meaning
without it. They consist in referring these phenomena to the beings or
the agencies which have occasioned them. When these producing agents
are discovered, and the modes and laws of their action are referred to or
unfolded for the first time, the process of explanation is complete.
Ground of seek- (#) When an event has occurred which is not yet accounted
fo/aS°evOTt°Sn- for> tlie min(* is aroused to the effort to solve or explain its
explained. occurrence; it believes just as firmly that it can be accounted
§591. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITY. 573
for in the way described, as if the explanation had been in fact attained.
It is as confident that its occurrence depends upon some cause or causes,
before, as after the cause has been determined. Upon this confidence rest
all the inquiries and experiments which it sets on foot.
(c) "Not only does the mind explain the past, but it relies
Sctioiu °f pre" upon the future, on the ground of its faith in causation. It
provides for or secures future results by availing itself of the
causes which it knows will produce them. It employs these agents in all
its plans and experiments with entire certainty concerning the results
which they will effect. It predicts these results with confidence so soon
as it is certain of all the causes which are or may be put into action.
(d) In these explanations and experiments the mind is iin-
Styf d °f cun pelled by a special emotion, called curiosity. Curiosity is
more than an interest and desire to know an event as a fact ;
it impels to the knowledge of its causes and laws, of its origin and growth.
The existence of a strong and apparently original emotional capacity of
this sort confirms the view that the relation itself is original as a law of
existence, and that the belief in it is a fundamental principle of the mind's
knowledge.
What the mind unconsciously assumes to be true in practical life, it dis-
thougiu^and tinctly and consciously applies in all the methods and processes of thought
scientific pro- and of science. We have seen that deductive reasoning has no meaninsr ex-
cesses.
cept the relation of causality is assumed, and that induction in its researches
after the forces and laws of matter and of spirit, makes the same assumption. Science, in all
its processes, investigates the properties, the powers, the forces, the attributes, and the laws
of all existing objects. But properties, powers, forces, and attributes are all of them terms
which directly assert or indirectly imply that there is a causal energy or activity in these ob-
jects. The laws of matter and of spirit have no import, and can admit no application except
as causal agencies are affirmed which these laws measure or formulate. Except as the causal
relation is believed or assumed, scientific knowledge can have no import, and scientific inqui-
ries would be meaningless and impossible.
Moreover : the relation of causality is wrought into and expressed by the
Confirmed by structure of language. There are, in every language, classes of single words,
language. an(j combinations of words, which decisively prove that this relation is held to
be real by all men. There are words which express causal activity, words
which express the reception of such activity, and words which express the change which is
wrought in an object by means of causal activity. The grammar of every language furnishes
proof of this, both in its etymology and its syntax.
These considerations prove decisively, that causality, as a
criteria of a first relation or principle ' meets all the criteria of universality,
principle. . _ . T/* • t -i -i •
necessity, and certainty. If it cannot be resolved into some
other relation equally general, or more general than itself, we must con-
clude that it is original, and intuitively discerned and believed.
8 591. The history of speculation abounds in attempts tc
Eesolvedby , . , , . , . .
many into a explain the relation of causality by some relation of time.
time-relation. . . . . ' ' . _ . .
I his is not surprising. The relations of time pertain to all
574 THE HUMAN INTELLECT § 591,
objects whatever. If objects are connected by the relation of casuality,
the same objects must be united to observation, either as co-existent or as
successive. The most conspicuous advocates of this disposition or solu-
tion of the causal relation, are David Hume, Dr. Thomas Drown, and
John Stuart Mill.
In connection with the views of each concerning the nature of the
causal relation, it will be convenient to give their views of the way in
which the mind is led to accept the principle of causality.
The theory of Hume deserves consideration for the clear statements and
The Theory of lucid style in which it is presented, for the ability with which it is defended
portance. "^ as we^ as ^or *ts great importance in the history of modern speculation. It
is well known that it was Hume's theory of causation which roused to more
profound researches the antagonist philosophies of both Keid and Kant.
What his theory was may be learned from his own language.
" The first time a man saw the communication of motion by impulse, as hy the shock of two billiard-
halls, he could not pronounce that the one event was connected, \>nt only that it was conjoined with the
other. After he has observed several instances of this nature, he then pronounces them to he connected.
What alteration has happened to give rise to this new idea of connexion? Nothing hut that he now feels
these events to he connected in his imagination, and can readily foretell the existence of one from the ap-
pearance of the other. When we say, therefore, that one object is connected with another, we mean only
that they have acquired a connexion in our thought, and gave rise to this inference, hy which they become
proofs of each other's existence ; a conclusion which is somewhat extraordinary, but which seems founded
on sufficient evidence." * * " We may define a cause to be an object followed by another, and where all
the objects, similar to the first, are followed by objects similar to the second. Or, in other words, where if
the first object had not been, the second never had existed. The appearance of a cause always conveys
the mind, by a customary transition, to the idea of the effect. Of this we have experience. We may
therefore, suitably to this experience, form another definition of cause, and call it, an object followed by
another and whose appearance always conveys the thought to that other." — An Inquiry concerning the
Human Understanding, Sec. vii. p. ii.
" Necessity is something that exists in the mind, not in objects ; nor is it possible for us ever to form
the most distant idea of it considered as a quality in bodies. Either we have no idea of necessity, or ne-
cessity is nothing but that determination of the thought to pass from causes to effects, and from effects to
causes, according to their experienced union. Thus the necessity, which makes two times two equal to
four, or three angles of a triangle equal to two right ones, lies only in the act of the understanding, by
which we consider and compare these ideas ; in like manner the necessity of power which unites causes
and effects, lies in the determination of the mind to pass from the one to the other." * * " There may be
two definitions given of this relation, which are only different by their presenting a different view of the
same object, and making us consider it either as & philosophical or as a natural relation ; either as a com-
parison of two ideas or as an association betwixt them. We may define a cause to be ' an object precedent
and contiguous to another, and where all the objects resembling the former are placed in like relations of
precedency and contiguity to those objects that resemble the latter.' If this definition be esteemed de-
fective, because drawn from objects foreign to the case, we may substitute this other definition in its
place, viz., ' a cause is an object precedent and contiguous to another, and so united with it that the idea
of the one determines the mind to form the idea of the other, and the impression of the one to form a
more lively idea of the other.' " — A Treatise of Human Nature, B. I. sec xiv.
The Theory contained in these statements and definitions is
Hume as°briefiy briefly this : a cause is a constantly precedent, and an effect a
constantly subsequent event. They are discovered to be
such by the constant conjunction of the two. The necessity by which
objects conjoined, are connected as cause and effect, arises from their
being united in the mind's own experience, and the circumstance that the
thought or observation of the one determines the mind to a lively idea
of the other.
§591. CAUSATION SV THE EELATION OF CAUSALITY. 575
_ . A little reflection reveals the fact that Hume does not at all account for the
Doevjot profess
to he universal belief or expectation that every event or object is connected "with some other
tioru S aPP 1Ca~ as *ts attendant cause or effect. His analysis, admitting it to be sufficient for
those cases to which it is applied, would only explain why some few events
are connected with certain others as causes or effects, but does not show at all, why it i3
believed that all events are so conjoined, nor why the mind is restless or unsatisfied, till it
has discovered to every event its antecedent or subsequent known as cause or effect.
The resolution of the objective reality of this connection into
"Why it fails to a mere subjective association of the two terms fails to satisfy
satisfy the mind. . . . .,
the mind, because it does not account tor what is believed.
How the mind comes to think of the one when the other is observed or
thought of, is a very different question from this, l how or by what rela-
tion does the mind believe that the objects thus thought of together, are
connected in fact ? ' It is a mere truism to say that objects observed or
thought of together will be conjoined by association. That the mind is
determined to think of the one by means of the other, is not the same
thing as that the mind is determined to believe that the one is the cause
of the other.
It should be remembered, in justice to Hume, that his theory of causation is
A special appli- only a special application of his general theory of knowledge — that belief or
eeneraHheorv S knowledge °f every kind and in respect to all sorts of objects is only a vivid
suggestion of am " idea " by an "impression" or another "idea." In the
language of later philosophers it would be called an " inseparable association " of one with
the other. That Hume should apply this general definition to the special case of causation is
no more than was natural or consistent, cf. § 43.
The Theory of Dr. Thomas Brown is closely assimilated with ■
The theory of J TT . J ' . \ '
Dr. Thomas the theory of Hume m certain features, though it is far
Brown. J , . '..' °
removed from it in others. Brown agrees with Hume that
the relation of cause and effect is nothing more than the constant and
invariable connection of two objects in time, — the one as antecedent and
the other as consequent. Brown differs from Hume in holding that two
objects need only be conjoined in a single instance in order to be known
as cause and effect respectively, while the theory of Hume requires that
they must be frequently conjoined in order to be causally connected.
Indeed the whole force and meaning of Hume's causal connection depends
upon the tendency of the mind to think of those objects together which
have been observed to be conjoined in fact. Brown contends that the
only use of repeated observations is to enable the mind to analyze or
separate complex objects into their ultimate elements ; for a single conjunc-
tion of any two clearly distinguished objects gives their causal con-
nection. Hume makes our conviction of the reality of this connection to
consist in and depend upon the mind's tendency to associate objects cus-
tomarily united. Brown resolves this conviction into cm original necessity
or law of our nature.
5*76 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §59J.
" A cause, therefore, in the fullest definition which it philosophically admits, may he said to he, thai
which immediately precedes any change, and which, existing at any time in similar circumstances, has beer,
always and will be always, immediately followed by a similar change. Priority in the sequence observed,
and invariableness of antecedence in the past and future sequences supposed, are the elements, and the
only elements, combined in the notion of cause. By a conversion of terms, we obtain a definition of the
correlative effect; and power, as I have before observed, is only another word for expressing abstractly
and briefly the antecedence itself and the invariableness of the relation." — Inquiry into the Relation of
Cause and Effect, Part I. sec. 1. Cf. Lectures, Lee. vii.
The theory of both Hume and of Brown has in its essential
johnstuart features been so entirely reproduced by J. S. Mill and so
carefully elaborated in its application to the philosophy of
Induction, that a consideration of it in its more fully developed form is
required. Mill is the best representative as well as the ablest advocate
of that philosophy which denies all original intuitions and necessary
truths, and resolves our beliefs of this sort into inductions or inseparable
associations, acquired or confirmed by often repeated experience. His
views deserve a careful consideration by all those who would be thoroughly
acquainted with the course of modern speculation. They are fully and
fairly stated in his own language, in the following passages from his
mi of Logic.
" The law of causation, the recognition of which is the main pillar of inductive philosophy, is but the
familiar truth, that invariability of succession is found by observation to obtain between every fact in
nature and some other fact which has preceded it." * * "To certain facts, certain facts always do and
as we believe always will succeed. The invariable antecedent is termed the cause ; the invariable conse-
quent, the effect ; and the universality of the law of causation consists in this, that every consequent is
connected in this manner with some particular antecedent, or set of antecedents. Let the fact be what it
may, if it has begun to exist, it was preceded by some fact or facts, with which it is invariably connected."
— B. III. c. v. § 2.
"It is seldom, if ever, between a consequent and one single antecedent, that this invariable sequence
subsists. It is usually between a consequent and the sum of several antecedents, the concurrence of all
be'ng requisite to produce, that is, to be certain of being followed by, the consequent." — B. III. c. v. § 3.
"As to the ulterior question, whether it is strictly necessary that the cause or assemblage of condi-
tions should precede, by ever so short an instant, the production of the effect? — we think the inquiry an
unimportant one. There certainly are cases in which the effect follows without any interval perceptible to
our faculties ; and when there is an interval we cannot tell by how many intermediate links, imperceptible
to us, that interval may really be filled up. But even granting that an effect may commence simultane-
ously with its cause, the view I have taken of causation is in no way practically affected. Whether the
cause and its effect be necessarily successive or not, causation is still the law of the succession of pheno-
mena. Every thing which begins to exist must have a cause ; what does not begin to exist does not need
a cause ; what causation has to account for is the origin of phenomena, and all the successions of pheno-
mena must be resolved into causation. These are the axioms of our doctrine. If these be granted, wc
can afford, though I see no necessity for doing so, to drop the words antecedent and consequent as applied
to cause and effect. I have no objection to define a cause, the assemblage of phenomena, which occurring,
some other phenomenon invariably commences or has its origin. Whether the effect coincides in point of
time with, or immediately follows, the hindmost of its conditions, is immaterial. At all events it does not
precede it ; and when we are in doubt, between two coexistent phenomena, which is cause and which effect,
we rightly deem the question solved if we can ascertain which of them preceded the other." — B. III.
c. v. § 6.
u With respect to the general law of causation it does appear that there must have been a time when
the universal prevalence of that law throughout nature could not have been affirmed in the same confident
*nd unqualified manner as at present. There was a time when many of the phenomena of nature must
have appeared altogether capricious and irregular, not governed by any laws, nor steadily consequent
upon any causes." * * " The truth is, as M. Comte has well pointed out, that (although the generalizing
propensity must have prompted mankind from almost the beginning of their experience to ascribe all
events to some cause more or less mysterious) the conviction that phenomena have invariable laws, and
follow with regularity certain antecedent phenomena, was only acquired gradually ; and extended itself
§591. CAUSATION AND THE EELATION OF CAUSALITY. 577
as knowledge advanced, from one order of phenomena to another, beginning with those whose laws are
most accessible to observation." — B. III. c. xxi. § 3.
" I apprehend that the considerations which give, at the present day, to the proof of the law of uni-
formity of succession, as true of all phenomena without exception, this character of completeness and
conclusiveness, are the following : First, that we now know it directly to be true of far the greater number
of phenomena ; that there are none of which we know it not to be true, the utmost that can be said being
that of some we cannot positively, from direct evidence, affirm its truth," etc., etc. " Besides this first
class of considerations there is a second, which still further corroborates the conclusion, and from the re-
cognition of which the complete establishment of the universal law may reasonably be dated. Although
there are phenomena, the production and changes of which elude all our attempts to reduce them uni-
versally to any ascertained law, yet in every such case, the phenomenon or the objects concerned in it,
are found, in some instances, to obey the known laws of nature. The wind, for example, is the type of
uncertainty and caprice, yet we find it in some cases obeying, with as much constancy as any phenomena
in nature, the law of the tendency in fluids to distribute themselves so as to equalize the pressure on every
side of each of their particles ; as in the case of the trade-winds and the monsoons." * * " When every
phenomenon that we know sufficiently well to be able to answer the question, had a cause on which it was
invariably consequent, it was more rational to suppose that our inability to assign the causes of other phe-
nomena arose from our ignorance, than that there were phenomena which were uncaused, and which hap-
pened accidentally to be exactly those which we had hitherto had no sufficient opportunity of studying.
It must, at the same time, be remarked, that the reasons for this reliance do not hold in circumstances un-
known to us, and beyond the possible range of our experience. In distant parts of the stellar regions,
where the phenomena may be entirely unlike those with which we are acquainted, it would be folly to af-
firm confidently that this general law prevails, any more than those special ones which we have found to
hold universally on our own planet. The uniformity in the succession of events, otherwise called the law
of causation, must be received not as a law of the universe, but of that portion of it only which is within
the range of our means of sure observation, with a reasonable degree of extension to adjacent cases. To ex-
tend it further is to make a supposition without evidence, and to which, in the absence of any ground from
experience for estimating its degree of probability, it would be ridiculous to affect to assign it."— B. III.
c. xxi. §§ 4, 5.
summary of ^he doctrine contained in these extracts may be summed up
if s1 Elation0?!) m tne following propositions. Causation does not imply
Hhu mhe°rian°df production, dependence, efficiency or force, but simply uni-
Brown. form succession or constant conjunction. All events or
begun existences are or may be presumed to be invariably preceded by
certain events, more or fewer, in a set or assemblage. Each one of these is
as truly a cause as any other.
The law or principle of causation, according to Mill, is the ascertained
fact or general proposition that every event is preceded by or connected
with some invariable combination or set of events.
The conviction that this is the law of all events in the universe is de-
nied by Mill to be an original or necessary intuition, but is asserted
to be a generalized belief which is gradually acquired as the result of induc-
tions applied more and more extensively in the observation of the facts of
the universe. But induction is resolved by Mill into inseparable asso-
ciation, so that in the last analysis or ultimate resolution of the ground of
our belief in the principle of causation, Mill and Hume are one. Brown, on
the other hand, contends that the conviction is original and necessary, or
at least that there is an irresistible tendency in our nature towards such a
belief. On the other hand, Brown resolves many of our apparently neces-
sary beliefs into " inseparable," or more precisely, insuperable associations.
So that Mill finds in the general drift and tendency of Brown's Philosophy
37
578 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §592.
an authority for the prevailing spirit of his own views concerning intui-
tive truths.
Time relations § 5^2. Against tne views of Mill and others, we contend that
attend, but do the relation of causation cannot be resolved into anv relations
not constitute J
the causal. 0f Time. Our reasons are these. It is conceded by Mill, that
in some cases, no interval of antecedence or succession can be discerned
between the cause and the effect. Under the pressure of this undeniable
fact, he contends that though this is true, yet all those cases in which we
have occasion to resort to the law of causation, are cases of begun exist-
ence, in which the cause is obviously before the effect. He insists therefore
that "practically " his view of the nature of causation cannot be contro-
verted. This we grant, so far as to allow that in every instance in which
we have occasion to discover a cause or predict an effect, the event is a
begun existence. In other words, practically every caused existence is a
begun existence, and every cause precedes its effect, and every effect
follows its cause : or, which is the same thing, the relations before and
after always attend the relation of causality. This is simply the truism
that all events [i. e., all begun existences or phenomena] occur in time, or
stated in another manner, that all things finite are subject to time-relations.
To this should be added the consideration that if there be any higher rela-
tions, such as those of cause and design, these must be expressed in language
taken from space, and in turn involve the recognition of Time-
relations. But it is one thing to assert, which is all that Mill does in this
passage, that we can determine causes and effects by means of their con-
stantly attending relations of time, and quite another to show that the two
relations are identical.
That they are not identical is proved by the fact that without the assumption
T i m o-relations 0f the relation of causation as distinct and logical, deduction would be impos-
doduction! sible. This has been shown in the analysis of deduction already given. In-
duction also would be unmeaning. It is idle to contend that the force of the
reasons and laws by which we explain and predict events is exhausted by resolving them into
uniform antecedences, and successions in time. This has been already shown under Induction.
It will be more conclusively proved when we consider in its place the explanation of Induction
given by Mill in his own theory of the nature of the causal relation, § 593. This explanation
not only fails to satisfy the mind in respect to induction but it reacts against the underlying
or assumed construction of the causal relation. But aside from these considerations, we con-
tend that the very statement of the proposition is its own sufficient refutation. The human
mind clearly distinguishes the relations of time from the relations of causality and of produc-
tion. The intelligent and universal use of the whole vocabulary of terms appropriate to each
of these classes of relations is but the constant attestation that this distinction is made univer-
sally and necessarily by the mind ; in other words, that causation cannot be resolved into any
relation of time.
We have already argued that causation is not only an original relation,
discerned by intuition, but that it is also known by intuition to be uni-
versally applicable to all events.
§593.
CAUSATION" AND THE KELATION OF CAUSALITY.
57S
Seven theories
counter to our
own.
This opinion, as we have seen, is disputed by many. Various
counter theories have been devised to account for its univ'er
sal or its very general application. Seven such theories are
clearly distinguishable, making eight in all — including our own. They
are ingeniously arranged and tabulated by Hamilton. Met. Lee. 39. The
table is more ingenious than sound in its classified subdivisions, as will be
apparent from the remarks which we make upon some of its heads; bin
it may be used as a guide in our discussion.
" A Tabular Yiew of the Theories in regard to the Principles of Causality.
1. Objectivo-Objective and Objectivo-Sub-
jective. — Perception of Causal Efficien-
cy, external and internal.
2. Objectivo-Subjective Perception of Causal
Efficiency, internal.
3. Objective. — Induction, Generalization.
4. Subjective. — Association, Custom, Habit.
5. Necessary : A special Principle of Intel-
ligence.
6. Contingent: Expectation of the Con-
stancy of Nature.
Yl. From the Law of Contradiction, i. e.y
(Non-Contradiction.)
y 8. Prom the Law of the Conditioned."
,i , „;•„„ in^ § 593. The theories which we shall first consider are the third
Causation inex- °
piicabie by in- an(j fourth of Hamilton's Table, according to which, our
duction or asso- < ' * '
ciation. belief in the Principle of Causality is acquired by Induction
like other generalizations, or is the result of Association. These, as we
have seen, are the theories respectively of Mill and Hume, or rather they
are by Mill blended into one.
The advocates Neither of these theories is sufficient to explain this belief.
overlook tae real __,- . . ., „ . „ .,
question. This is evident tor the following reasons.
(1 .) Its advocates overlook the real question at issue. The belief to be
explained or accounted for, is, that every event has a cause. The belief
which the advocates of this theory seek to account for, is the belief that
to each particular event or class of events, some definite cause has been or
may be actually assigned. That this last only, can be the product of ex-
perience is obvious. That this is the belief in support of which they
adduce illustrations and arguments is evident from the passages which we
have quoted from Hume and Mill. That this is not the belief which ig
in question, needs no illustration or argument-
A.
a.
Original
or
Primitive.
& posteriori.
b.
Judgment
of
Derivative J
or • ]
^ Secondary. 1
Causality,
as,
d priori.
r c
Original
or
Primitive.
d.
Derivative
or
. Secondary.
580 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §593:
(2.). No simple experience of actual events can establish the
Experience can- v/ . *- *
not go beyond application or its results any further than the range of actual
its own limits. /» 7 . * ■» 777. . -r?.
events oj which we have had this experience. But in both
Generalization and Induction, we go far beyond our actual experience.
When from the observation of a few objects or a few events, we general-
ize a concept or a law which we apply to objects or events more or less
like them, we use the belief that what we have observed will prove true
of what we have not observed. Whether what we have observed are
called simple uniformities of antecedence and succession, or uniformities
of causation, makes no difference with the nature of the act by which we
pass from the known to the unknown.
Mill himself most pertinently observes : " We believe that fire will burn to-morrow be-
cause it burned to-day and yesterday ; but we believe precisely on the same grounds that ii
burned before we were born, and that it burns this very day in Cochin-China. It is not from
the past to the future [only or as such] as past or future, that we infer, but from the known
to the unknown ; from facts observed to facts unobserved ; from what we have perceived, or
been directly conscious of, to what has not come within our experience."
He also admits, in the passages already quoted, that we do not limit ourselves to experience.
In asking why, when we cannot assign a definite cause for an event, we yet believe it to be
caused, he says it is " more rational to suppose that our inability to assign the causes of
other phenomena arose from our ignorance than that these were phenomena which were un-
caused." While then he insists that we have no warrant from experience in applying the results
of experience " to circumstances unknown to us and beyond the possible range of our expe-
rience," and contends that " the law of causation must be received not as a law of the universe,
but of that portion of it only which is within the range of our means of observation," he
is careful to subjoin " with a reasonable degree of extension to adjacent cases.'''' It would be
difficult to give a meaning to the phrases " it is more rational to suppose" and "with a reason-
able extension to adjacent cases " without finding in them a real, though unwilling, homage to
the intuition " Every event must be caused."
induction as- (3.) Induction assumes this belief as already present to, or
quket the bciS ready to be applied by the mind. Mill concedes that Indue-
to be original. tion itgelf has itg axionm He says, " whatever be the best
way of expressing it, the proposition that the course of nature is uniform,
is the fundamental principle, or general axiom of Induction." The Propo-
sition that ■ the course of nature is uniform ' must mean that the unknown
uniformities of succession or causation correspond to those which are
known. If this is a general axiom or fundamental principle of Induc-
tion, it would seem that it cannot be gained or derived by means of
Induction. And yet Mill contends that the axiom which is necessarily
assumed to give meaning and reality to the process of Induction is acquired
by means of the process to which it is a necessary pre-condition.
(4.) The resolution of this belief into tenacious or inseparable
Much less ex- ' rT , , ,, •. ► .
piicnbie by aBso- associations, or as Hume more bluntly expresses it, into
" custom or habit " is more palpably untenable than the other
theory or form of this theory.
I
§594. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITY. 581
We have seen already that the fact that the mind is constantly deter-
mined to one thought by the presence of another, is very different from
the fact that the things thought of, are necessarily determined the one by
the other. If the two are viewed simply as psychological experiences, even
the subjective law by which the objects concerned are presented to the
mind in constant conjunction, is clearly different from the subjective
belief that the objects so presented, are united causally.
The philosopher who directly, like Hume, or indirectly like Mill, resolves the principle of
causality into the law of association, complicates rather than simplifies the problem. For he
imposes upon himself the obligation to show that the objective world without corresponds to
the subjective world within. This must be done by deduction, induction or intuition, but deduc-
tion and induction both rest upon intuition, so that even the theory which attempts to dispense
with intuition must in the final analysis rest upon it, in one form or another, as its ultimate
arbiter.
Hot resolvable § 594. The two other theories which resolve the principle
inner ^experi- of causality into the observations of experience, ascribe it to
LockJsvLw?1 * our sense-perceptions of the phenomena of matter, and to our
conscious experience of the phenomena of the soul. Some writers, again,
hold to both of these conjointly as sources of the belief.
Locke seems to advocate, in different passages of his Essay, every one
of these theories. The following passages may be fairly taken to repre-
sent each of the three :
" In the notice that our senses take of the constant vicissitude of things, we cannot but observe that
several particulars, both qualities and substances, begin to exist ; and that they receive this their existence
from the due application and operation of some other being. From this observation we get our ideas of
3ause and effect. That which produces any simple or complex idea, we denote by the general name, cause,
and that which is produced, effect. Thus finding in that substance which we call wax, fluidity, which is a
simple idea that was not in it before, is constantly produced by the application of a certain degree of heat,
we call the simple idea of heat in relation to fluidity in wax, the cause of it, and fluidity, the effect." —
Essay, B. II. c. xxvi. § 1.
" A body at rest affords us no idea of any active power to move ; before it is set in motion itself, that
motion is rather a passion than an action in it. Tor when the ball obeys the stroke of a billiard-stick, it
is not any action of the ball, but bare passion."
" The idea of the beginning of motion, we have only from reflection on what passes in ourselves,
where we find by experience, that barely by willing it, barely a thought of the mind, we can move the
parts of our bodies which were before at rest. So that it seems to me, we have from the observation of
the operation of bodies by our senses, but a very imperfect, obscure idea of active power, since they afford
not any idea in themselves of the power to begin any action, either motion or thought. But if from the
impulse bodies are observed to make one upon another, any one thinks he has a clear idea of power, it
serves as well to my purpose, Sensation being one of those ways whereby the mind comes by its ideas ;
only I thought it worth while to consider here by the way, whether the mind doth not receive its idea ot
active power clearer from reflection on its own operations, than it does from any external sensation." — B.
II. c. xxi. § 4.
The theory in ^ocke'13 view has been understood to be, that by simple obser-
untenabie f"rms va^on an^ experience of material or spiritual events, we know
that they are connected as causes and effects, and that on the
ground of the experience thus given in sense and consciousness, we believe,
conclude or infer that all events are so connected. To the theory as thus
interpreted the reply is decisive; First, that simple experience of the
known can of itself furnish no warrant for a belief concerning the un
582 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §595.
known, unless we apply or assume some a priori principle or original
intuition : Second, Sense-perception and consciousness are usually sc
defined as to exclude the discernment of any relation except the relations
of space and time, or the connection of the objects appropriate to each by
any relations other than these. But the relations of space and time are
a priori, and are discerned by intuition. If the relation of causation is
discerned in each of these classes of acts, it is none the less a priori for
that reason, so that it cannot be urged that sense and consciousness as
forms or acts of simple experience, are the source or sources of our belief
of causation. The knowledge must be a priori, and cannot be a posteriori.
Relations of the ^e opinions of Locke are of great interest and importance in that they gave
doctrines of the occasion or authority for the speculations of Hume and Mill. Hume
of Hume a nd ta^es UP the positions of Locke in detail, and considers them at length. He
Ml11- denies that in Sense-Perception, we can by sense be said to perceive the
causation of material objects or phenomena. All that we perceive, he urges, are one material
object or state followed by another, using precisely the same arguments against this view of
Locke which Locke uses against himself, when he would show that matter gives no clear idea
of power. Malebranche uses the same argument and even the illustration by billiard-balls.
This argument is decisive, as we have already observed.
The opinion of Locke, as expressed in these and other similar passages, is interesting
■with0 n S Locke's for *'tie reason tlla* ^ is strikingly and happily inconsistent with his definition of knowl-
doctrine of edge as the discernment of the agreement or disagreement of our ideas. The con-
knowledge, sciousness of the exercise of power in mental phenomena is certainly a species of
knowledge, hut it would not he maintained that the cause, i. e., the acting ego, and the
effect, viz., the hodily or psychical state were known under the relation of the simple agreement of their ideas.
Against the special opinion of Locke that we derive the notion of causation from our
Hume's obiec- internal experience, Hume contends, that all which we ohserve is one thought succeeding
tion to the doc- another thought, one emotion following another, one so-called purpose springing up after
trine of Locke. another ; hut we have no knowledge of any causation or production in such cases, nor
of any producing agent. The motions of the hody which are ascribed to an effort or
purpose of which we are said to he conscious, he disposes of by asserting that all we know is — first, that
we experience a wish or purpose, and next that this is followed by a bodily movement. In phenomena that
are purely mental, where the so-called effect is a purely spiritual phenomenon, the same is true ; we find a
wish, or purpose, or effort, and it is followed by the desired or purposed mental state. We are simply specta-
tors, but in no case producers or originators, of these psychical or psycho-corporeal phenomena. Both Brown
and Mill dispose of Locke's representations in substantially the same manner. 1 he convenience of these
views as furnishing materials for the refutation of the arguments for the freedom of human volitions derived
from the consciousness of the exercise of the power or freedom of choice, must be obvious to every one.
If in consciousness we are only aware of the presence of psychical states, and cannot know their relations
to one another or to the agent which originates them, then it is impossible that we can be conscious of any
exercise of the power of choice, for if it be insisted that we are only conscious of the act of choosing as
preceding the effect— viz., the state of choice or the purpose, we should only know it as one event preceding
another, i. e., we should only know the two events as before and after.
. „ 8 595. The question thus discussed between Locke and
Theories of Boy- *L ^ . , .
er coiiard and Hume has been invested with a special interest by the specu-
lations of Royer Collard and Maine de Biran, two distin-
guished philosophers of the modern French school.
Royer Collard, Fragmens deLeqons (CEuvres de T. Beid, T. iv. p. 296),
contends that our experience of psychical phenomena gives us direct
knowledge of the causal relation, inasmuch as mental states are, by their
§595. CAUSATION AND THE EELATION OF CAUSALITY. 585
very nature, known to be caused by the ego. We know by consciousness
that we are causes, and these are the only causes which we do know. We
know that every event is caused, as a self-evident and intuitive truth.
Maine de Biran, CEuvres, T. iv., expands this general statement into a
refined theory which he explains with great subtlety, and defends with
equal boldness. Taking his cue from Leibnitz, who contends that we
have a direct appreciation of the ego, and that every monad both material
xnd spiritual is conceived and believed to be an individual force ; appeal-
ng also to the well-known doctrine of Descartes, that the ego knows that
it exists because it knows itself to think, or, more exactly, because it
finds itself in the act of thinking ; he proceeds to assert and defend the
following propositions :
The soul, in all its higher states and elements of states, is not recep-
tive but active. As active, it is the originator or producer of effects.
These effects are of two sorts : those which are purely psychical, and those
which are external as they affect the body and originate motion. In these
last even, we distinguish between the element which is purely organic —
whether sensitive and receptive on the one hand, or impulsive and reflex
on the other, i. e. so far as they are purely corporeal and the object of physio-
logical research, — and the element which is psychological and apprehended
by consciousness. In those states which are purely psychical, and in the
other states so far as they are such, consciousness distinguishes between
the ego, the ego in action, and the result of the acting of the ego. These
elements are not distinguished as following one another in time, but as sepa-
rate in thought, even when united in an act or state that endures but for
an instant. But here he is careful to observe,
(a.) The ego, discerned or apperceived, is not the soul as a substance, for
thig is a generalized conception, and includes the relations of the soul to
the body, as well as its various capacities or faculties for the various modes
of psychical action. All that is apperceived is the individual ego.
(b.) The ego thus apperceived is known not as out of action, nor as
prepared for action, but as acting, as therefore related to or connected
with an action — this being an individual act however, and in no sense one
that is generic ; every thing that is known directly to consciousness proper
being individual.
(c.) This action is also causal or productive action. In its very nature
and essence it is known as passing into effects. These effects are by apper
ception distinguished from the agent and the action, not in time but in
fact.
These positions comprise the answer given by de Biran to the question,
Whence and how does the soul gain its notion of causation ?
But the inquiry which is invested with still greater interest and impor-
tance, concerns the principle of causality. It being granted or assumed
that the soul derives its knowledge of causation from the direct knowledge
584 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 596.
of itself as an individual cause ; How does it know that every event has a
cause ?
To this question de Biran would reply : On occasion of the individual
apperception described, we extend the causative relations to objects other
than ourselves, by a principle of natural induction or analogy.
" The necessity, invariableness and unity of the personal primitive cause being thus conceived, every
inference or derivation from this primitive fact must necessarily partake of the same characteristics. Eor
example, every effect of the locomotion of one's own body being inseparable, so far as I am concerned,
from the feeling or (external?) apperception of myself as its cause, no external movement [of any kind}
can possibly occur without being immediately conceived as like my own [a l'instar du moi]. This first in-
duction, which transfers the causality of the ego to the non-ego, has no relation to those judgments of
analogy which are founded on resemblances in external experience. For this reason it is with regret and
for lack of a better term, that I employ in this novel sense the term Induction, which in logic and in
physics has a meaning entirely different. However it may arise, the certainty that every external mo-
tion, every passive modification of our sensibility, every fortuitous event whatever, not produced by our
personal will, could not begin without a cause, this certainty is as infallible and as necessary as that of onr
own causality from which it is derived.
" Causality or force, thus conceived separately from myself, and de-subjectivized, cannot be understood
except as universal and absolute, like being, permanent substances, etc., and the other fundamental notions
of which the understanding cannot divest itself, and which must be regarded as its inherent forms. It is
a very false and very limited philosophy which sees in these notions, and in causality which is the mother
of them, only simple signs, or artificial ideas, higher genera, products of sensation, deductions of reason-
ing," etc., etc.— (Euvres, T. IV. pp. 393, 4.
Such is the theory of de Biran in respect to the second point of inquiry,
viz., the origin of the belief that every event is caused. It may be stated
in a single proposition, viz., we believe all events external to our own
experience to be caused, because we conceive of all such events by natural
induction, after the likeness or analogy of that spiritual causation of which
we are directly cognizant in ourselves.
is the theory § 596. In respect to both these points we ask, How far is
l'd? we gain the theory of de Biran correct ?
^we^fron^con- !• ^° we gam ouv m'st knowledge of causation from .the
sciousness? experience of our personal causality? We answer, Yes.
The soul cannot act without distinguishing the ego from its acts and their
products. It knows itself to be the actor or originator of its active states.
In this conscious exercise of its own active energy, it has its first knowledge
and individual exemplification of the causal energy in general. It has
a direct knowledge of the terms or objects concerned, viz. the agent and the
result. It has experience of effort or action in varying degrees. It has
also experience of the feeling of pleasure or pain which attends the efforts
in question. Its belief of the acting of other causes external to itself,
whether of spirit upon matter, of matter upon spirit, or of matter upon
matter, is in contrast with this knowledge, incomplete in respect both to
the terms or objects concerned, and their relations to one another.
2 Do we make 2- ^° we> ^y natural induction, make a universal application
natSai^nduc- °^ our individual experience to every possible event ? The
tion? so-called natural induction of de Biran must rest upon or
involve an intuition, equivalent to the d priori principle, every event must
§ 597. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITF. 585
have a cause. Otherwise it is impossible to see what warrant we have tc
transfer what is true of an individual experience to the whole spiritual
and material universe. The fact that psychologically, we have the earliest
and most complete knowledge of the causal relation in our spiritual ex-
perience, does not in the least explain philosophically \ wThy it is that we
believe this relation to be of universal application.
De Biran is very earnest in the effort to show that this Natural Induction does not
De Biran's view suppose that the mind is furnished with primitive beliefs or a priori truths <T. iv. 388-
of first princi- 398). He concedes, indeed, that the mind mast have such principles in order that it
P*es' may reason and judge, but he insists that it does not set off in its processes with these
principles already formed, but that an important point is gained when psychology fur-
nishes a starting-point in the actual experience of the soul, from or by which the soul may effect a transi-
tion from individual and concrete facts to universal principles. These principles are not gained in the
way of ordinary abstraction nor are they generalized notions of the qualities of objects, but they express
the sameness of a relation wherever it is realized.
But these reasonings hold only against the extravagant views of First Truths which we have so fully
discussed § 528. They prove only that tbe principle of causality is not first apprehended in the abstract
but exemplified in the concrete, and that this concrete is given in the psychical experience of each indi-
vidual. The extension of this to every event as the occasion arises, must involve the application of what,
when it is generalized and reflected on, is known to be a universal principle. This process of extension,
called by him a Natural Induction, must involve such an Intuition.
~. -. S 597. In insisting that we conceive of external events as caused, after the
We image our ° ° '
concepts of caus- analogy of our personal causality, d Vinstar du moi, he has reference to the
scious experi- source from which we derive our images of the causal relation. As every
ence- general term of quality, like red, yellow, etc., is illustrated or exemplified to
the mind by some concrete instance or image of its use (§ 424), so is it with the more general
and more evanescent terms of relation. The law holds more eminently in the latter case.
If we cannot use the words purple, yellow, lovely, fearful, of an object absent from our direct
inspection, without referring to some concrete example, much less can we apply the terms of
causality to objects of which our knowledge is indirect and incomplete, without referring to
some concrete example from that knowledge which is most distinct, viz., which is famished
from our own souls. The a Vinstar du moi of De Biran refers to the illustration, the imaging
the abstract and the general, but does not explain at all the process by which the intuition
is gained, or the authority on which it rests.
There are still other reasons why the activity which we individually exercise should be
made the type and image of that causality which we generalize of the universe of matter and
of mind. One of the most frequent cases of the exercise of the causal energy is in the
management and control of our bodies by means of bodily or muscular force. In the simple
tension of muscular fibre, there is often the sense of resistance. The muscular feeling is the
same, whether the soul acts upon the muscles, or whether there is a counter force exerted by
another being like ourselves, or whether the muscles encounter some one of the forces of
nature. The conception of force or effort, in all these cases, takes its image or illustration in
part from this fact of muscular tension that is common to the three classes of supposed origi-
nation— iny own spirit, the spirit of another, and an agency purely material. But the only
case in which it is most fully and vividly experienced is that of effort originating with myself.
This analysis of de Biran's theory enables us to explain the phenomenon to
of^chudren'and wnicn ne attaches great importance, viz., that children, and certain savage
savages explain- races, believe every event to be caused by a spiritual force, and regard every
existing thing at first as a living person. The fact may or may not be as
universal as he contends it is. He uses it in support of the two positions which we have
explained and discussed.
The fact, if it be true, is equally consistent with the construction which we have given tc
586 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 598.
these positions. On the supposition that we believe by intuition that every event is caused,
it would still be true that all external causes might be imaged after the example or illustration
of the spiritual causation which we consciously exercise. Nothing would be more natural
than that the non-essential as well as the essential elements furnished by our experience,
should enter into the picture, and that our first and unreflecting belief should be that every
thing which manifested force was, like ourselves, a living person. The illusion would remain
with those whose intellects are controlled by imagination rather than by reason, and would
return with a force almost insuperable on every occasion when the imagination was excited
by emotion. The child, the savage, and even the civilized man, when maddened by passion,
vent their rage against the stone that bruises or the weapon that wounds them, as though they
were alive. By a gradual experience, the uninstructed child is forced to distinguish between
persons and things. It might require a long time for an unreflecting and passionate com-
munity to rise above such illusions of the imagination, when stimulated by the excitement
of passion or superstition. In a cultivated community, the child soon learns to accept the judg-
ment of others, as it is forced upon him by the distinctions of a mature language embodying
the results of the observations and inductions of many generations. A savage tribe must feel
out its way for itself without such aid, and is in constant danger of relapsing into fetichism
and superstition in respect to some single material objects, after it has learned in part to dis-
tinguish between persons and things.
It, however, by no means follows that the intuition, ' every event is caused,' is equivalent
to the proposition, or involves the belief in the first instance, ' that every event is originated
by a personal cause.' Origination under conditions or the application of force as the necessary
means of explaining the existence of every being and the occurrence of every event, is
the general fact which this intuition, and which the principle of causality which expresses it,
declares. The distinction between spiritual and material causes is learned by experience, as it
is instructed by appropriate evidence.
inferences from 8 598. From the fact assumed or believed that the soul
the theory that ° .»„.-.•".
causation per- derives its first notion of cause from its conscious activity,
spirit. the inference has been derived that causation is predicable
of spirit only ; that a material cause is contradictory in conception and im-
possible in fact. This inference has been held in two forms.
(1.) It has been inferred, first, that the conception of a
Material causes .,„ -.. , « * ,
called seif-con- material cause is sen-contradictory ; because, forsooth, our
knowledge. of the causal relation is derived from our own
psychical activity. Spirit alone, it is contended, is essentially active and
causal, and in spirit, will is that only which is active. Matter is incapable of
force ; it presents the appearances of antecedent and successive phenomena,
but behind these appearances there is no force except what spirit imparts.
" The word action itself has no real significance except when applied to the doings of an intelligent
agent ; we cannot speak of the doings of matter as we could if the word action were applicable to it in any
other than a figurative sense. Let any one conceive, if he can, of any power, energy, or force, inherent in
a lump of matter— a stone, for instance— except this merely negative one, that it always and necessarily
remains in its present state, whether this he of rest or motion. * * * We attribute force or -power to the
particles of matter and speak of their natural agencies. Just so we talk of tone in coloring, and of a heavy
or light sound; though, of course, in their proper significance, tone belongs only to sound, and heaviness
to gravitating bodies. These modes of speech are proper enough if their figurative character is kept in
view ; but we ought always to remember, that agency is the employment of one intelligent being to act
for another ; force and power are applicable only to will ; they are characteristic of volition."
* * * « This doctrine places the material universe before us in a new light. The whole framework
of what are called ' secondary causes ' falls to pieces. The laws of nature are only a figure of speech. The
§599. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITY. 58 4
powers and active inherent properties of material atoms are mere fictions." — Prof. Francis Bowen, Lowed
Lectures, First Course, Lee. ir. Cf. Berkeley, Siris. § 154.
§ 599. Against this view the following objections are deci
Sdocfrine. to s^ve : (a-) ^he soul finds in its own positive psychical experi-
ence evidence that " force and power are " not " applicable
only to will ; " for it finds spiritual energies that are neither intelligent nor
voluntary. When it seeks and strives to fix its attention, to recall for-
gotten objects, to control its rebellious desires, it contends against actual
forces which are not directly regulated by intelligence or controlled by the
will. There are ' secondary causes ' in the soul at least, if there are not in
matter.
(b.) It does not follow, because we derive the notion of causation or
force from the conscious activities of an intelligent will, that the relation
itself involves either intelligence or will. Let it be conceded that at first
the soul, by a not unnatural illusion, refers every event which it does not
produce by its own activity to some spiritual agent other than itself. It
soOn learns to correct its judgments. It learns that a spirit does not
directly blow upon the trees or agitate the sea, for it finds the agitation
of the air interposed; it then discovers that this agitation is occasioned
by heat ; then that heat is dependent upon the sun, or some other agent.
In other words, between the effect and the activity of spirit, it interposes many so-called
beings and their actions. What are these agents or phenomena ? They are not the thoughts
nor the feelings, nor the purposes of another mind. They are not the products of our own
causality in thinking, feeling, or willing. They are either the causes of the sensations, or the
occasions of the sense-perceptions which we experience. In other words, they are possessed
of force and endowed with causal efficiency without either intelligence or will.
What, again, is that which we call the body, that animated something which
Would make the the soul directs, which resists its energy, and the affections of which cause the
bodyunpossible. soul connected with it to suffer ? Shall we say that all these are God, acting
in various ways? Then the universe, separately from created spirits, is
nothing but God ; which approaches the view of Spinoza. Shall we say that these all are the
means or media of the acting of God ? But if they are media or means, they themselves are
are not the same with God's acting. What are they ? What has God made them to be in
order that through them as means, He may act ? What is that in the created spirit, in
addition to its capacities for intelligence and will, which acts or seems to act independently
of knowledge and volition ? These questions involve the objection that,
(c.) According to this theory, the universe of matter and of spirit,
except so far as it is capable of intelligence, is unreal and impossible. Matter
without qualities or powers, is inconceivable. Qualities and powers in-
volve force, i. e., causal energy. The exercise of power is also inconceiv-
able, except by beings capable of voluntary energy.
For these reasons we reject the theory. We distinguish intelligent and
voluntary activity from simple causal energy. We distinguish causal
from creative force, i. e., origination under conditions furnished by another
588 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §601
being from origination without such conditions. We distinguish a first
from secondary causes.
it has been in- § 600. (2.) The second inference derived from the position
ffbut onfaS tnat tDe activity of spirit furnishes the notion of causation, is,
in the universe. ^ ^^ >g ^ Qne agent fa the universe, an(J JJe Jg ^
Creator; that causation is conceivable of neither created matter nor
created spirit, and the apparent activities of both are held to be varied
manifestations of His single force, in phenomena successive to one another.
If this doctrine were true, it could not be legitimately derived from the
grounds alleged, inasmuch as the notion of causality is furnished from a
created or finite cause, and is inferred to be inapplicable to any other than
a cause which is infinite and uncreated.
Malebranche (Recli. de la Ver., 1. 6, p. 2, c. 3.) advocates the theory in question, but not on these
grounds, but as an inference from his general theological and philosophical position, that God is the only
agent, and that in hiin we perceive as well as produce every object in the universe.
8 601. We proceed to consider, next, the several theories
The theory c . '
which resolves that the principle of causality is a priori. — (Table. 5, 6, 7, 8.)
causality into a _. f, fy *\ * * , • \ -, ,,
relation of con- One class (the seventh) or these theories comprehends all
those which resolve this relation between things into some
more general relation between concepts — in other words, into some logical
axiom, principle, or relation. The fallacy of them all consists in invert-
ing the order of nature and of reason. A correct estimate of logical
relations and principles will show that they are all dependent upon some
assumed reality of things. Of such realities, the relation of causality is
prominent and fundamental.
Hamilton {Met. Lee. 39) asserts that Wolf, Clarke, Locke, Hobbes, and
Resolved into others, have attempted to demonstrate the law of causality by the principle
contradiction. of contradiction. He refers particularly to such an argument by "Wolf
(Oniologia, §§ 65-70), a part of which he quotes and repeats. The argument,
as he cites it, is as follows : " Whatever is produced without a cause, is produced by nothing ;
in other words, has nothing for its cause. But nothing can no more be a cause than it can
be something. The same intuition that makes us aware that nothing is not something, shows
us that every thing must have a real cause of its existence." It may be doubted, from the
very terms in which Hamilton cites the argument, whether Wolf intended to demonstrate the
law of causation by way of logical inference. So far from attempting to show that its truth
can be demonstrated or logically derived, he aims to prove that it cannot be derived at all, but
that it is an original principle or axiom of thought, and, as such, is coordinate and equally
original with the principle of contradiction ; cf. § 15. What is said to be a logical argument,
is, in fact, only a reduction similar to those which are employed by many philosophers, when
they argue that a principle must be accepted as a first truth, by drawing out the absurd
consequences, either speculative or practical, which would follow from the denial or non-
acceptance of it as such.
It has not been uncommon with the philosophers of the later German Schools to seek
Its relation to ^0 resolve the principle of causality into the principle of the sufficient reason viewed as
the^ Sufficient a lo0ical principle. This follows from not clearly determining and carefully keeping
Reason. in mind the relation of the ratio essendi to the ratio cognoscendi. Instead of deriving
the second from tbe first, they have derived the first from the second. Because th*
§ 602. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OP CAUSALITY. 589
logical reason is more general or extensive in its application than the real cause, they have resolved canst
into reason, instead of explaining reason by means of the relation of cause. We have already shown, un-
der Deduction, that the syllogistic process, and indeed all logical reasoning supposes the ratio essendi, i.e.,
real causal action or that which may be conceived as such, and that without this all deduction is meaning-
less and inconclusive. § 446.
This inversion of the real order of the dependence of these conceptions may be traced
Influence of the *° ^ant. He at least sanctioned it by the suggestion that is fundamental to his system,
Kantian doc- that the forms of thought are not necessarily representative of the forms of being,
trine. Kant makes the relation of causality to be in its essence a metaphysical relation of
the explicability of one thought by another which is required by the understanding or
logical faculty. The understanding must explain one thought as dependent on another : This relation
of dependence, when applied to things existing in the actual world, can only be conceived by means of
the relations of phenomena to one another in time : The phenomenon that succeeds another uniformly ia
explained to the understanding by that which precedes it.
It has been carried to its furthest extreme by Hegel in the fundamental position of his
Carried to its philosophy which he boldly attempted to apply to every conception, that all the so-called
extreme by He- relations of being may be developed from and are resolved into relations of thought,
8el- so that the actual world is but the necessary evolution of the relations that belong to
the concept as such. The relation of the reason to its consequent, and by consequence
of cause to effect, is only a special application of that law of identity, as interpreted by his logic, which con-
trols and reappears continually in all abstract thought. According to this law, every thing as thought or
conceived, is thought or conceived by means of its relation to something not itself— when completely
conceived, by its relation to every thing other than itself. As conceived it must therefore depend entirely
upon this other. "What any thing depends upon, that it may be conceived, is its ground or reason. The
relation of dependence, of reason, of causation, is therefore involved in that of identity. In the act of
conceiving an object to be what it is, is involved its dependence upon another object in the relation of its
ground, reason, or cause.
It is true, in a certain sense, that the objects related make up or constitute the concept
of which they are said to be the constituents. If the elements a and b and c constitute
Ms reasoning an^ "nrnole -^ (aa certarn- properties constitute chalk,) then they are the grounds, or
reason, or cause of A, as a concept ; but this relation of dependence by which the con-
cept is thought, differs greatly from the relation of production by which the thing is
originated. The one cannot be resolved into the other.
The dependence in the one case is that of consistency in thinking. In this case the causality is made
by the active mind that originally thought these elements together in a single concept, according to the
objective relations which it discerns between the objects thought. But the causality with whicn we are
concerned is a causality between things, which is distinguished from and superadded to these so-called
logical relations.
When I compare twenty objects with each other and conceive one as diverse from the other nineteen,
these nineteen are necessary to, and the grounds of the concept of, this one as thought to be different from
the rest. If five are alike in form or color, the four must be thought of that the likeness of the fifth to
the four may be conceived. These five are the reasons, or causes, or conditions, of this likeness as dis-
cerned. Heat applied to water causes steam. Steam cannot be thought of except as heat and water enter
into the concept, but the belief of the production of actual steam by its actual constituents, implies another
relation, than that of mere thought. "We form many concepts by means of the relation of causality, it is
true, but not every element that is constituent of a concept is causal in the relation of things.
§ 602. The eighth theory called a priori, is the theory ad-
Sy^caSsatlom vanced by Sir William Hamilton, Met. Lee, 39, 40. This
theory derives our conceptions of, and our belief in, the rela-
tion, not from a power, but an impotence of mind ; in a word, it resolves it
into the more general "principle of the conditioned" The laic of the con-
ditioned is, that " the conceivable has always two opposite extremes, and
that the extremes are equally inconceivable. That the conditioned is to be
viewed not as a power, but as a powerlessness of mind is evinced by this
— that the two extremes are contradictories, though neither alternative
can be conceived or thought as possible, one or other must be admitted tc
be necessary."
590 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §603.
This general powerlessness gives the special relation of causality, when applied to the two
positive forms under which every object is and must be conceived, viz., existence and time.
By the necessity of the first, the mind cannot but think of every object as existing. It
cannot, if it tries, think of any thing as not existing. By the second, the thing existing is not
now what it was a moment before. We cannot think of any object as non-existing in the
present. No more can we think of the same as non-existent in the past. "We cannot think
of its absolute commencement in the past, nor can we think of its absolute termination in the
future. Nor can we think of its absolute non-commencement, nor of its infinite non-termina-
tion. " This gives us the category of the conditioned as applied to the category of existence
under the category of time."
By this application of the principle of the conditioned, the principle of causality is gained.
For the law of causality is simply this, that when an object appears to- commence in time, we
cannot but suppose that the complement of existence which it contains, has previously existed ;
"in other words, that all we at present come to know as an effect, must previously have
existed in its causes."
According to this theory, the cause or causes of an object are the sum of the constituent
elements of its being, existing at a previous time in a different form ; the effects are the same,
as existing in another form at a subsequent time. This applies to every form of causation,
even to the creation of the universe. For creation is not a springing of nothing into some-
thing ; " it is conceived, and is by us conceivable merely as an evolution of a new form of
existence by the fiat of the Deity."
Similar to this theory in principle, is the theory of Mansel, ProJeg. Log.^
Hansel's version cnaP- v- We have a positive consciousness of the relation of causality in the
of the same. action of our own minds, but when we apply this to the phenomena of the
material universe, it is only in some negative and inadequate signification.
When we thus apply it, we do not use it as an original and necessary principle of knowledge,
corresponding to which is a fundamental and universal relation of being, but we simply find
ourselves so constituted, that, in the present state of existence and under the laws of our
present mental constitution, we cannot but think every object under this relation.
The theories of Hamilton and Mansel are in their principle identical with the general
theory of Kant, from which they were plainly derived. They all agree in this, that
t otn to Kant though we are forced in our human thinking and under the laws of our human consti-
tution to believe in causation as universal, yet this necessity may result (Hamilton
and Mansel both teach that it does result) from our incapacity to think objects under
any other relation, i. e., as they explain this relation. Kant teaches that we are forced to conceive, i. e.
image the relation of causation under the relations of changing phenomena succeeding one another in
time. Hamilton states this assertion in a form more positive than that adopted by Kant.
The objections to this positive explanation, so far as it is peculiar to
Hamilton, are the following :
8 603. (1.) It is not true that it is an original and necessary
Objections. Ele- *> ■ V J ^ #S _ J
ments of ex- belief that the complement 01 existence is not changed, with
destructible. the changes of phenomena. For example, when a pile of
fuel is consumed by fire, and only an inconsiderable residuum of ashes
remains, men do not necessarily and instinctively assert that the total of
the original constituents of the fuel is undiminished. So far is this from
being true, that, on the other hand, they are slow to accept the evidence
furnished by the most careful experiments of science, that the products,
when analyzed and gathered after combustion, equal the elements of the
substance before it was burned.
§603. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITY. 591
rhe impossibii- (2«) The asserted impossibility to think an object as non-
c^nge thilgka^ existent is a logical, not a real impossibility. We cannot
not real. think any thing not to be in thought, because, while we
think of it, it must exist for us in thought. Even when we think of it
as not existing, whether in the present or in the past, we must think of it
as existing in thought, and to this object as existing in thought we must
deny existence in fact. If we think of a centaur or a hippogriff, we must
think of it as being. If, because we cannot think of an object actually
existing to be non-existent, we may infer that the complement of its exist-
ence does not change, we may also infer that, because we must think of a
centaur or hippogriff as existing, they also in fact exist.
(3.) The theory is utterly inadequate to explain psychical
Does not explain v ' ,. _, J . J n , ' ■ ■ . V \
psychical causal- causality. The operations 01 the soul are, as we nave seen,
eminently causal. From our conscious experience of this
class of actions the first notion of causality is derived. Whether the
effects in question are produced by the action of the soul within itself,
and are purely psychical, or whether they are wrought in the nervous
organism by the soul ; whether they are wrought upon matter by the soul,
or upon the soul by matter ; in each of these cases the theory fails to
satisfy. There is no complement of existence appearing in different forms
at different times. An effect purely psychical, or physiological, or material,
is not conceived as the same constituents under a new form. It is what
the terms denote it to be — a product, an effect, a result of activity, a conse-
quent of the power and action which are required for and appropriate to
the result.
(4.) It is still more incongruous with any right notion of
St£TrPea?ion. creative causality. The creation of matter or of mind
implies the production or origination into existence of that
which did not exist in any of its constituents. It is called by Hamilton,
" the evolution of a new form of existence by the fiat of the Deity." But
evolution ought, in consistency with his theory, to signify the changing of
the materials already existing under one form into some new form ; the
kind of existence being already in being. This would require either that
we believe in the co-eternity of matter with God, and that we restrict the
agency of the Deity to the exercise of a merely plastic or formative energy,
or it would involve the pantheistic view, that in the spiritual nature or
constitution of God there was also present a material substance, from
which, by a new evolution of divine action, the created universe emerged,
as a new form of the matter which had from eternity existed in God. From
spirit as such, from a pure spiritual essence, it cannot be conceived that
matter should be evolved, in any consistency with the theory of Hamilton
as defined by himself.
(5.) The relation of causality is not special under the general law of
the conditioned, if it be admitted that this law is truly stated.
592 THE HUMAJST INTELLECT. §605.
m B § 604. The third theory, -which is named sixth by Hamilton, among the theories
Theory of ex- ..... ■' _ .,
pectationof con- a priori, is as it would seem, even by Hamilton's own concession, rather rec-
ture?7 °f na" °Snized for tne sake of making his scheme of classification complete, than
because it deserves a separate place under either the class d priori, or the
class a posteriori. It is that suggested by Dr. Brown, under the terms of the expectation of
the constancy of nature in the succession of events. A close examination of Dr. Brown's
meaning will show that he uses expectation as synonymous with belief or intuitional certainty,
as indeed Hamilton himself recognizes.
The various attempts to resolve the relation of causality into
Conclusion. * . . " * >*/#
our position re- some other relation either a posteriori or a priori having
failed to be satisfactory, we return with greater confidence
to the original position which we have already explained and defended
that it is original and intuitive.
The various applications of the relation and principle of causality in the processes of the
intellect, as well as its significance as an assumption fundamental to our higher knowledge,
illustrate and enforce its importance. These applications have been already so frequently
insisted. upon and referred to, that it is useless to repeat them, especially as we shall have
occasion to illustrate them at length in Chapter VII.
CHAPTER VI.
DESIGN OR EIXAL CAUSE.
Fkom the principle or relation of causation we pass by a natural transition to the principle of
design or adaptation, or, as it is usually termed, of final cause. We have already ex-
plained that this, in an eminent sense, is a synthetic relation, and in this respect is con-
trasted with the relation of causality. The movement of the latter is from the individual
to the general, from the less to the more comprehensive. The movement of adaptation
and final cause is from the general to the particular and the individual. It unites con
stituent elements into constituted wholes. It follows causes and laws in their movements
toward intended effects. It binds together different species and individuals in the unity
of a harmonious system. It develops the existence and the events of this system after
an order which supposes a definite plan for a definite end. It explains the beings and
the powers, the laws and development of this system by a supreme Intelligence.
Terms explain- § 605« The phrase or term final cause should first of all be
teriaf°refficiSit' explained, and the connection of thought by which it is
and final causes. app]je(i to designate the relation of design. Aristotle and
the schoolmen divided all possible or conceivable causes into four ; the
material, formal, efficient, and final. The material cause is but another
phrase for those material elements or principles of which any existence is
composed, whether the matter is bodily or spiritual. The formal cause is
the property or aggregation of properties which constitute its essence or
notional content (in Aristotelian phraseology, its form). It answers to the
§606. DESIGN OR PETAL CAUSE. 593
belief which we have seen lay at the root of the views of the realistic con-
ception of the correlate to the notion or general term. (§ 426).
In these two senses, the word cause is equivalent to element or con-
stitutive principle, each differing according as that which is constituted is
matter or form.
The efficient cause corresponds with the cause of modern philosophy,
except that it was formerly appropriated to the most conspicuous or
prominent of the agents or conditions that produce a result ; whereas, in
modern usage, the term is extended to all those agents which, in combina-
tion, originate an effect.
The final cause was the design or end which was conceived as impel-
ling and directing the action of a number or succession of agencies, till it
was actually brought to pass. The propriety or at least the significance
of this appellation can be understood by an example. If I form a pur-
pose, as to build a house, to pay a visit, or make great moral or intellectual
attainments, the event or result when made actual, will be the end of a
series of events or actions. Hence the end, by a secondary signification,
is made to signify a purposed result or a design, and the adjective final
receives and suggests the same import. The purpose is called a cause,
because it is conceived when formed as prompting or causing those events
or acts which are necessary to its realization. Hence the appellation, final
cause, — i. e., a cause, which, beginning as a thought, works itself at last
into a fact as an end ox final result.
Aristotle called the formal cause tV oxxxiav teal rb ri l\v ehai, the material cause t?V vK-qv
Ka\ rb vTrond/xevoj', the efficient cause o&ev tj apx>i f?)s /aircrews, and the final cause rb ov eW/ca
Kal Ta.-ya.h6v. Met. 1. I. 83 a 27, a 29, a 30, a 31.
. § 606. The design conceived as directing or impelling a
adaptation, how series of agents to an end, supposes that agencies exist in
fact, or may exist, which will bring it to pass. The capacity
of these efficient causes when combined to produce the effect is called their
adaptation or fitness for it. The question is supposed to arise, what
causes or agencies must be used in order that it may be effected, or in
order that it may be effected in the best or the readiest manner ? It is
answered by showing that the agencies selected will bring it to pass.
This adaptation may be considered subjectively or objectively. If it is
viewed as arranged or known by the designer, it may be considered sub-
jectively. But whether it is known or not, the capacity for or the possi-
bility of it exists and remains to be discovered. It pertains to actually
existing forces and laws of nature, and is a relation which may be affirmed
of such causes. A series or combination of causes, viewed as fitted for an end
are called the means — literally the intermediate agencies — between the end
as thought and the end as produced, and their relation to it, is adaptation,
38
594 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 608.
The relation as- That the relation of design and the means of its execution.
s^aiTd dep?t often exists and may be traced in both spiritual and material
ori- phenomena separately and conjoined together, will be denied
by no one. The point which we assert and defend is that this relation is
believed & priori to pervade all existence, and must be assumed as the
ground of the scientific explanation of the facts and phenomena of the
universe. We do not inquire whether it is observed in our experience as a
psychological fact, but whether it lies at the ground of all our knowledge
as a necessary relation of things, and a first principle or axiom of thought
— whether, in other words, the principle of adaptation ranks with the prin-
ciple of efficient causation as a necessary and a priori truth.
The kind of *fc may &^ us to nnd an answer to the question in the form last expressed, to
k". ° ™ * e d s e consider what description of knowledge rests upon the axiom of efficient
efficient causa- causation. By the relation asserted in this axiom, we conceive of material
and spiritual agents as endowed with powers. These powers are simply
causal forces, competent to, and productive of, their appropriate effects. These powers act
under their several conditions and according to their appropriate laws. It is the aim of sci-
ence, as commonly conceived, to discover these powers by close and skilful observation, and
to determine their laws by exact analysis and inventive experiment. The wider or narrower
range of these powers and laws is also noticed by methodical arrangement, and in this way all
beings and phenomena are explained according to their place in a scientific system.
8 607. The question which we are now to answer is, whether
Can final cause ° ■..'/»-•-• -, r- ~ i • •
be similarly ap- the relation of design may be applied m a manner similar or
analogous, to connect, to classify, and to explain facts and
phenomena. Are the relations and laws which are ascertained by asking
the questions why and how, the only relations conceivable, or do other
relations hold the same place in our knowledge, viz., those which the ques-
tion what for assumes, and requires as its answer? Aristotle gave the
highest preeminence among all the causes to the ov eVe/ca or the what for.
Was Aristotle right in assuming that the end is as important to be known
as the definition, the conditions, and the origination of a being or a phe-
nomenon ?
No one will deny that if it were possible to determine the ends for which every
Such an applica- thing exists and every event occurs, and to explain and arrange these beings
be desirable. and phenomena under the relations which the end involves, a new interest
would be imparted to the objects thus known, and the mind would experience
a special gratification. Many objects are thus explained and arranged, and these results always
attend the knowledge of them under these relations. But is this knowledge necessarily
assumed as possible of all things and events ? Does the mind believe that every thing and
every event is connected with every other thing and event under the relation of means and end ?
S 608. We assert that the relation of means and end is
Reasons. The ° , . . ■■ /» t t • • ,l
mind impelled assumed a prion to be true ot every event and beiug in the
jects by this re- universe, and that the mind directs its inquiries by, and rests
its knowledge upon this, as an intuitive principle. Our
reasons for the truth of this position are the following :
§ 610. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 595
(1.) The mind is impelled to seek, and is satisfied when it finds that any
objects or events are related as means and ends. Whatever these objects
may be which are connected under this relation, — whether they are indi-
viduals that fill only single points in space and endure but for a moment
of time, or whole classes that pervade the entire universe by their agency,
and endure with energy unwasted from generation to generation, as the
great forces that hold all beings together and minister to all motion and
life — the mind inquires, for what do these exist and act ? and if it can find
an answer, it accepts it with rational satisfaction.
It asks the question and accepts the answer in a way precisely analogous to that in which
it inquires and learns, By what agency and under what law does any thing exist and act ? It
asks as pressingly and as persistently, concerning what it may find in this relation, as concern-
ing what it can know under the relation of causation. When it receives a probable answer,
it welcomes it with a more complete and a higher satisfaction than a similar explanation by
efficient causes and their laws. This ground of analogy would lead us to believe that the two
relations are both original and intuitively assumed.
It forms no ground of objection, that this very argument for the truth of the principle
rests on the assumption that the principle itself is true. We have observed that we must
assume the truth of these principles in inquiring for the evidence that they are original. We
assume the originality of causation, in inquiring whether it is an axiom of thought. In like
manner we not only may, but we must assume design in proving that design is an original and
ultimate category of knowledge and of things.
The relation is §609. (2.) The relations under which this axiom requires that
o^effidenTSu- objects should be connected, is higher than that by which
sation- they are united under the category of efficient or blind causa-
tive force. The relation of means to ends supposes that of cause and
effect. We must first suppose causes or agents to exist, before we can
suppose them to be applied or employed as means. Objects must be
thought of as endowed with permanent powers, which act after fixed laws
under recurring conditions, in order that these powers, conditions, and
laws may be so disposed and arranged as to produce a designed effect.
If there are no such forces and laws, there are no materials in respect to
which adaptation can exist, or through which it can be made manifest or
interpreted.
But when these are ascertained, and by them unity and order and dependent relationships
are established among the otherwise disconnected beings and events of the universe, the mind
takes a step higher in its aspirations, seeking to rearrange under a higher connection objects
united under these lower relations. The one being presumed, and in part at least successfully
established, the mind believes that a higher is possible, and proceeds to discover it. Sub-
jectively viewed, this relation gives a higher satisfaction. Objectively regarded, it stands
higher in rational value than that of efficient causation, which is only a stepping-stone and
preparation, with respect to this.
The principle § 610. (3.) The principle has been of essential service in scien-
vfce^cSntmc ^c discovery. It being conceded that the appropriate sphere
discovery. 0f science pr0per is to develop and establish the so-called
596 THE HUH AN INTELLECT. §611.
powers and laws of nature, and that the discovery of adaptations lies
without its sphere, it is still true that the belief that the universe is full of
such adaptations, is of essential service in suggesting powers and laws
previously undeveloped and undetermined. The history of scientific dis-
covery abounds in confirmations of this truth.
When Harvey observed that at the outlet of the veins and the rise of the
Harvey's dis- .
covery of the arteries there were lying within each certain valves, m the one opening in
blood. n warc* towards the heart and in the other opening outward away from the
same; he was persuaded that the arrangement indicated an end, which
supposed activities and laws which were not yet known. The functions of the heart and the
changes in the blood, so far as known, could not be accounted for by, nor could they account
for, this structure. The arrangement of these valves, supposing that it was designed for some
use, was most consistent with the contraction and dilatation of the heart and the outflow and
return of the blood in a double circulation through the body and the lungs.
When Cuvier found buried in the drift or the alluvial deposit, the thigh or
tlon^of ^t 1Cin arm"bone of an animal, and pondered over the depressions and protuberances
comp a r a t i v e upon its surface, he observed that they were hollowed and elevated in such a
anatomy.
way as to be specially adapted to a single description of muscles. These
muscles, in their turn, were adapted to the feet and claws of an animal who could spring upon,
hold, and tear its prey. The length and shape of the bone required, by adaptation, bones of
correspondent shape and size in the remainder of the limb and in the entire frame. Such a
frame as this must be furnished with a peculiar head. Such a head could admit only peculiar
jaws, and such jaws peculiar teeth. The teeth and fangs required a stomach and viscera fitted
for the digestion of animal food. Guided by his belief in this complete adaptation of part to part,
and of parts to the whole, he reconstructed the skeleton and the whole animal indeed, either
in imagination or some representative material, in the full confidence that if such an animal
did not then exist it had existed once, and this bone had formed a part of its structure.
By and by he hears that it exists in some remote part of the earth, or an entire skeleton is
disinterred as like as possible to the one which he had built up in his museum.
Further illustrations of the value of this principle in scientific discovery will be given
when we treat of its application to the several sciences.
The Foundation
611. (4.) The entire superstructure of the Inductive Philos-
of tie inductive ophy rests upon the principle in question. This position has
been already discussed in part in treating of Induction.
It has been already shown that the Inductive method rests on several
assumptions. They are such as these : nature is uniform in her operations
and laws ; the indications or signs of less obvious powers and laws may
be confided in ; the analogies of nature are important means of suggesting
facts and laws, and of inciting to experiment and discovery ; the simplest
relationships, the fewest agencies, and the most economical use of forces
are always presumed. These and other like axioms of the student of
nature are but varied applications of the principle in question ; viz., that
in the universe objectively considered, there is an intelligent and icise
adaptation of powers and laws to rational ends, and that the same is true
of the relation of the universe to the knowing mind.
It is not sufficient for the philosopher to say that without these assumptions, the science
of nature itself would be impossible, inasmuch as the conception of science requires that
§612. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 59 <
powers should be fixed, and laws should be uniform, and indications and analogies should be
trustworthy; that were science not to assume the truth of these maxims she would commit
suicide. To this it is pertinent to reply, what if science itself should be impossible ? What
is the imperative necessity for science ? The physicist must concede that the adaptations
of nature, to the methods and impulses of the knowing mind are such as indicate, at least
that class of designs in the structure of the universe, which the possibility of science requires
It is clear that the very axioms of the Inductive process presume the relation of final
2ause. This of itself goes far to prove that the relation itself is original to the mind, and is
intuitively discerned. But this Principle is not only required to sustain and enforce our con-
fidence in the axioms of the Inductive method, but
Required to ex- § 612. (5.) It is also needed to explain those phenomena of
plain the pheno- organic existence, which the relations of efficient causes are
mena of organic & # '
existences. entirely incompetent to resolve or even to define. An organic
being, or an organism, can only be defined as a being of which each organ
acts for the integrity and well-being of every other organ, and all act
together for the life of the whole. More abstractly, and in the terms of the
relation in question, an organism is abeing in which each of the parts and the
whole are respectively means and ends for one another. We find it, in fact,
to be true, that in any living being, -whether plant or animal, the elements
or organs act together so as to promote the action of each other, and of
the whole. If the appropriate function of each organ is performed, the
function of every other is also fulfilled, and when all together are exerted
they are the conditions of the growth, the development and the several
other functions of the plant or animal. In the animal, the action of the
lungs is necessary to that of the heart, and the action of the heart to that
of the lungs, the action of both to the action of the stomach, and the
action of the stomach to that of both these, and the mutual action of these
and the remaining organs, to the health and life of the whole body.
The elements or agents of which these organs are composed, have their well-
forces11 and1 laws ascertained mechanical and chemical properties, and when these are combined
do not dispense in inorganic substances, their results follow the laws which control them.
But when they are combined in living beings or their organs, these powers
and laws do not explain in the least degree these compounds or their functions. The materials
or agents which form the heart, the lungs or the brain, do not at all explain the peculiar
substance, form, or functions of these organs ; much less do they account for the singular
capacity which they possess of producing a whole on which they depend for their own existence
as a living heart, lungs and brain, and which in its turn as a living whole is dependent on
each of these.
To meet the exigency and to account for these phenomena, a new force has
The vital force been resorted to by physiologists called the vital force or the principle of life,
aside. which, it is urged, is as truly proved by these effects to exist as are the several
mechanical and chemical agents by and upon which it acts. Others reject
the doctrine of a single force as a merely abstract term or fiction for the total of the activities
of these several agents to their peculiar results. Whichsoever of the two views is adopted,
whether that of a single force modifying the action of these agents, or of the reciprocal
modification by these forces of one another, no law or rule has as yet been discovered in
-espeet to their action which cast any light upon either the formation or functions of the
598 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §612
organs or organisms in question. The same materials combine to form the structure of the
heart, the lungs and the brain. And yet under this force, whatever it may be, out of the same
constituents are formed these three organs, each shaped according to its typical form and each
endowed with its special function. The heart is moulded, divided into cavities and endowed witt
a rare capacity of perpetual and almost independent activity ; the lungs are expanded into an
almost gauze-like tissue, through which without rending the texture, the blood can come into
chemical combination with the oxygen of the atmosphere ; the dough-like substance of the
brain is kneaded into unsymmetrical and insignificant forms, which in some way become the
organ of the most refined functions of sense and reason. These are so united with other organs
as inexplicable as themselves, as by organic actions and reactions to make a living whole, after
the law of a species, and yet sustaining an individual life. These facts we observe ; these
phenomena we generalize, yet only in the rudest way. The laws or processes by which the
nitrogen and carbon are made into heart and brain we do not discover. All that we can do,
is within the sphere of the mechanical and chemical relations of the constituent elements to
observe the resultant products into which they are transmuted ; but the laws by which they
produce them, are hidden from view. The Inductive philosophy, with its efficient causations,
is wholly at a loss : It cannot explain how the agents which form the vegetable or the animal
cell should impart to that least microcosm the wonderful power of adding cell after cell to its
substance or of developing a new cell from within itself. Much less can it explain why or
how it is that one cell is the rudiment of a plant and another that of an animal — that one
expands into this plant, and another into that ; one into this animal and another into that.
All this is totally unknown. The principle of life and the conditions of life are only names
for causes that cannot be explained by such methods. The effects cannot even be described,
much less explained by the relations of efficient causes or powers.
Under these circumstances we resort to the relation of design
Relations of. _, __ _, , „ , _ __,. ..
adaptation m order to define and explain the phenomena. I he adapta-
tion can be scientifically expressed as follows. The constitu-
ent agents, "besides the powers, as mechanical or chemical, which they are
known to possess, are also so constituted that they can be combined in an
organ or an organism, so as to sustain it as living so long as it in turn
sustains them as living. Their power to do this is defined only by individual
effects, but cannot be defined by any general formulae. The materials
can never a second time share — by giving and receiving — in the same life.
That which makes them living, is their relation to one individual life.
The variety of these adaptations is as great as the number of individual
lives into which they could possibly enter. The action or function of each
part and of the whole is as though an intelligence had carefully fitted each
to the other, and controlled the mutual action of each by studied adjust-
ments to every individual case.
After no other relation can we explain how dead matter is transmuted into living parti-
cles, and how an aggregate of these particles is developed into living organs, which live
together so long as the being lives of which they are parts. By no other law than that of
design can we explain how each class of living beings works for itself, having a form, habits,
tastes, and instincts peculiar to itself, and how each individual of each class is an end to itself,
having an individual form, size, and other peculiarities more or less marked, according to ita
rank and place in the scale of being.
§ 614. DESIGN 0E FINAL CAUSE. 590
Eeiation of final § 613. Two facts are here suggested touching the relation of
o effi cient ° °° °
causes in the final to efficient causes. The first is, that the higher we rise
higher orders of. . , r»T •
being. m the order of beings, the less we know of the relations
of efficient causes ; but those of * final cause are more and more various ana
conspicuous. In unorganized matter we have occasion chiefly to apply effi-
cient causes and their unvarying laws. As we rise into the sphere of
chemical and crystalline combinations, while many such forces and laws
are still clearly distinguished and definitely ascertained, the mystery in re-
spect to both seems to deepen; but the adaptations grow more conspicuous.
As we ascend into the regions of life, we are more and more baffled in our
attempts to detect the elementary forces and to determine the unvarying
laws, but are more and more gratified at seeing the relations of adapta-
tion become more and more conspicuous.
Second : The one of these relations does not displace the
dSpiaced°eth°e other ', nor do discoveries in respect to the one either eoni-
other* pel or allow us to dispense with the search after the other.
On the contrary, the more complete is our analysis of efficient forces
and our determination of their laws, the greater is the opportunity to
notice how the structure whose constituents are exposed by analysis,
is controlled by manifest fitness and adaptation. As has already been
observed, it is only as physical forces are discerned, that the relations
of adaptation can be made manifest. On the other hand, discerned
adaptations suggest the possibility of unknown elements, and prompt to
the search after them. Each newly discovered element and determined
law opens an opportunity for some adaptation as yet unobserved.
Objections : (1.)
Men mistake m 8 614. To the doctrine that the belief in design is intuitive,
their judgments o # °
about final the following are urged as objections :
causes. ° ° J
(1.) Men mistake in discovering or assigning ends, and the mistakes
into which they fall are irrational and foolish ; whatever an ignorant or
selfish man may think important to himself, he thinks must have been
designed in the economy of nature, and is thus in continual danger of
setting up his narrow and interested judgments as the real adaptations
and intents of the Creator.
It is sufficient to reply that, if men mistake in assigning the ends of
phenomena, they do the same in interpreting their causes. It is not at all
in question whether men can discover particular ends with infallible cer-
tainty, but whether they intuitively believe there are ends to which all
beings and agents are adapted, and for which they are designed.
The objection enables us to bring out distinctly the truth that, in both respects, the
principle of causation and of final cause stand upon the same footing. In the application of
both to individual cases men are liable to error, and, for similar reasons, from defect of intellect,
from hasty observation and narrow generalization, as well as from the moral defects of vanity
600 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 615,
indocility, and self-will. In the assumption and belief of these principles they are equally
confident as they should be, because both are alike intuitive.
(2.) our inter- § 615- (20 ^ ma7 ^e objected that we have no means of
neither0?! tes?ed ^8^n9 and confirming our inductions in respect to ends!
nor confirmed. while in respect of causes and laws we are provided with
tests, rules, and methods which are universally acknowledged to be all-
sufficient. In ordinary cases the methods of agreement, of difference, and
of concomitant variations are acknowledged to *be ample: In special
exigencies artificial experiments may be instituted to supplement the
deficiences of simple observation : But in ascertaining ends we have no
such methods, tests, or experiments.
In reply, we observe that the so-called methods and rules of induction are no self-acting
categories or logical machinery which need only to be set in motion to secure infallibility from
error, but are simply general maxims which sum up and record the proceses which are natural
to all men. Man performs inductions as really without as with the conscious use of these
rules, thereby showing that he believes in the universal prevalence and discoverableness of
causes and laws. So, also, does he search after and discover ends as naturally and readily,
which indicates that his belief in design is original and necessary. If it were to be conceded
that each are discovered and tested by methods peculiar to themselves, and that those used for
the one were more precisely determined than those appropriate to the other, this would not
weaken our confidence either in the general intuition, or in our special applications of it.
_, , ... We are not, however, forced to this concession. It will be
Wot entirely un- 7 '
likein their op- found on closer inspection, that the methods appropriate to
eration or phe- l ' i l r
nomena. the two are more nearly alike than would be at first
imagined. It has been already shown, § 605, that the end or purpose in
its relations to the means of its realization, may be conceived of as an
efficient force carried back from the end to the beginning of the series of
causes and effecte, which drives them to their issue by a constant energy.
If this be so, then the determination of the question, What is the par-
ticular end of a combination or series ? may be ascertained by the methods
appropriate to an efficient cause, the end being conceived as acting like
such a cause. It may be less easy in some cases to suggest or devise the
probable end than it is to conjecture the probable cause, inasmuch as
many such ends might be supposed in a given case as equally compatible
with the effects. But, on the other hand, it may be urged that in other
departments of nature, as the organic and historical, the ends and adapta-
tions are so obvious as to flash upon the mind without the need of inquiry
or tests of any kind, while in these very departments the efficient forces
are so withdrawn as to elude the most subtle analysis, and to refuse to
yield to the most exact and rigorous methods.
Nor should we for a moment forget that these very methods of in-
duction rest on the assumption of this same adaptation to rational ends in
the constitution of nature, for which we claim the priority and authority
of a principle intuitively discerned.
§616. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 601
(3 tms relation § 616, (3>) ^ maJ ^e st^ further objected that the adaptation
derived from 0f means to ends is a phenomenon, or actual relation, of which
conscious expe- A ,.' 7#
rience. we are aware from our own conscious activity, and it is simply
by a fiction or imagination that we transfer it to other, i. e., to mate-
rial objects : If it be granted that we adapt means to ends in our own
rational procedures, we are not therefore warranted in affirming that a
similar procedure is to be assumed of the entire universe.
To this objection we reply, that the activity of our own
The same is true J . ,. , . , "" ,.« -,
of that of em- mmds and the relations which are instanced or exemplified
cient causation. . . .
m them, hold precisely the same relation to efficient as to
final causes. The most complete knowledge, we may say the only com-
plete knowledge, which we have of power or efficiency, is gained through
or by means of the active energy of our own spirits. By this, we in a cer-
tain sense image, cf. §597. this abstract relation whenever we have occa-
sion to affirm it of impersonal or material agents. In doing so we use ex-
amples, associations, and language taken from our personal activity. But
we do not thereby in thought attach to a material agent the properties of
personal will, such as usually attend the exertion of spiritual force in the
direction of the thoughts and movements of the body.
Still less is it true that we affirm this relation of all the objects in the universe, because we
have happened to have experience of its agency in our own spirits. We assume, i. e., intuitively
affirm it as necessary to a rational construction of the universe. In the same way we assume
that an adaptation such as that by which we consciously control all the higher activities of our
nature and the results of which we impress upon and manifest in the material structures which
we contrive, holds good of the causal arrangements of the universe, both material and spiritual,
and is employed to explain its constitution and its phenomena.
But the objection itself suggests an argument in defence of the propriety of
phical to trans- making this very application of final cause. The power of adapting means to
e«L« J!^1 con" ends is one with which we ourselves are very familiar in our own conscious ex-
perience. We propose ends. We devise and arrange, i. e., adapt means to
bring them to pass. We interpret the actions of others by supposing that they are directed
by such intentions and adaptations. We interpret the results of their actions when fixed and
made permanent in structures wrought by the same relation. No one denies that the relation
exists in portions of the universe, i. e., in the activities and energies of the human soul ; or that
it is proper to apply it to the explication of those creations which are known to proceed from
the human intellect. By this we solve or explain every machine which is submitted to our in-
spection. We assume that every thing that is made by man is constructed for some end. When
we study it, we do not merely seek to understand the parts of which it is composed in their
capacities and laws of working, but we seek to trace out the ends for which they are combined,
and the various adaptations of which they are capable ; tracing out not merely their capacity
to accomplish certain ends in a certain manner, but to accomplish desirable ends in the
best manner.
The relation un- ^ *s a *"a*r ^rSf^^entum ad hominem to say, that here is a
questioned known agent or power in the universe which acts in a given
in some apphca- . . &
"ions- way. The agency is spiritual, which first proposes ends and
then adapts forces for their achievement. It is certainly possible or sup
602 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §617.
posable that the results of a similar agency should pervade the universe,
making themselves manifest in a discoverable adaptation. To assume or
employ it in the explanation of phenomena is not unphilosophical.
J. S. Mill well observes in his Logic, B. III. c. xiv. § 7 : " There is a great difference between inventing
laws of nature to account for classes of phenomena and merely endeavoring in conformity with known
laws to conjecture what collocations, now gone by, may have given birth to individual facts still in exist-
ence. The latter is the strictly legitimate operation of inferring from an observed effect the existence in
time past of a cause similar to that by which we know it to be produced in all cases in which we have had
actual experience of its origin." The application of this principle to our line of argument is obvious.
There is a known relation resulting from a well-known kind of action. It prevails by the concession of
all on a limited scale, viz., as far as the effects and products of human adaptation are found. To suppose
the presence of a similar relation on a wider scale and as explaining a great variety of phenomena, in
short, to assume that it is one of the two great relations which hold good of the universe, is by this crite-
rion of Mill not unphilosophical. The relation is known to exist, just as that of causation is known to
exist. It is not unphilosophical to assume that it may have as wide an application.
(4.) Two prind- §617. (4.) It may be objected still further, that if we recosj-
ples introduced C. _ \ ' J ... . . , . &
mto philosophy nize nnal cause as a principle, we introduce into the universe,
sibiy conflict. for the explication of its phenomena, two principles, of
which the one may possibly conflict with the other. In so doing we
weaken confidence in the processes and axioms of pure science, and in the
stability of the laws and the order of nature. Science, it is contended,
must assume not only the stability but the supremacy of its own laws, and
it can neither recognize nor respect any other.
It may be urged in reply that the principle of final cause, is so far from
weakening our practical confidence in the stability of the laws of nature
or disturbing our faith in the axioms of science, that it confirms both.
What science blindly assumes, this rationally accounts for and makes neces-
sary. It gives a reason for the order of nature and the principles of
knowledge, and the only reason which can be suggested, viz. the adaptation
of such order to the uses and ends of the human intellect, and of human
science. As we have shown already, it furnishes the only solid foundation
for the assumptions of induction.
But it will still be objected : if efficient causes and physical
Final causes , ' - ■ « ' , .___ _ \ J
claim the pre- laws are to acknowledge themselves indebted to nnal causes
cccicncc*
that they may command our confidence, then they must also
confess their subjection to the same, and be ready to stand aside and
be suspended whenever the principle of final cause shall require. In
other words, the order of nature may be broken whenever the principle
of final cause shall require ; whenever the claims of the so-called reason of
things, or of alleged moral and religious interests may demand an inroad
upon its regularity, either in special acts of creation or exertions of miracu-
lous agency. This we assent to, but, we find no reason on this account
to reject the principle or its asserted supremacy, but an additional reason
for asserting both. If the principle of final cause will not only render the
service of sustaining our confidence in the stability of the laws of nature
in all ordinary circumstances, but will also account for such extraordinary
§ 619. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 603
deviations from this order as may be required in the history of man, it
deserves for this double service to be esteemed of greater value and
authority. [Cf. Locke, Essay, B. iv. c. xvi. § 13.]
(5 The search § 618. (5.) It is objected still further, that the search after final
hles ^MndOTel causes nas seriously hindered the advancement of science, by
discovery. turning aside the attention and interest of observers from
their appropriate duty, which is the investigation and determination of
efficient causes and their laws.
Lord Bacon, it is said, was so alive to its evil influence as to utter his memorable and oft-repeated
caution in the words : " Causarum finalium inquisitio sterilis est et tanquam virgo Deo consecrata nihil
parit."— De Aug. Scient., III. 4. Descartes was still more strenuous in the same opinion, as appears from
these assertions : " Totum illud causarum genus quod a fine peti solet in rebus physicis nullum usum
habere existimo ; non enim absque temeritate me puto posse investigare fines Dei."— Med., iv. 20. "Ita.
denique nullas unquam rationes circa res naturales a fine quam Deus aut natura in iis faciendis sibi pro-
posuit discernimus, quia non tantum non debemus nobis arrogare ut ejus consiliorum nos esse participes
putemus." — JPrinc. Phil., p. I. 28.
To this objection we reply : That what Bacon intended was that the attention of the
inquirer should not be diverted from the investigation of efficient causes by the sug-
ofBaeor1611111118 gestion of ends or adaptations, for the appropriate sphere of the interpreter of nature
is to develop agents and laws that are unknown, or newly to confirm and exemplify
those already established. In this he was right. A more complete exhibition of the
mutual relations of the two would have required him to assert that it is only by ascertaining efficient causes
that we can reach final causes, inasmuch as we assume powers and laws of nature as the means by which,
and the conditions under which, these ends are to be attained. The more we know of the variety and
reach of the resources of nature, the wider is our acquaintance with the variety of her ends, the skill of
the mutual adaptation of the two, and the economy and sagacity of her workings. That Bacon himself
believed that nature is penetrated and illumined by the higher relations of design is evident from this
among similar intimations : " I had rather believe all the fables in the Legend and the Talmud and the
Alcoran, than that this universal frame is without a mind." * * " For while the mind of man looketh
upon second causes scattered, it may sometimes rest in them and go no further ; but when it beholdeth
the chain of them, confederate and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and the Deity."—
Essays, xvi.
When Bacon says that the inquiry after final causes is with-
scientific pro- outfruit, he must mean ' practical fruit,' or the production of
direct advantage to the interests of man. It is, in fact, so far
from being barren, as to be most fruitful of important results in the way
of discovery, and to contribute indirectly, in this way, to the extension of
man's dominion over nature, and the advancement of his comfort and well-
being. We have already seen, §610, that the consideration of ends may be
fruitful in the suggestion of undiscovered agencies as their means, and in
many cases, has actually been a most important agent in such discovery. It
is always efficient in leading to the prudens qucestio, the sagacious guess, or
the ingenious hypothesis, which, as the sacred herald, has so often opened
the way for the more prosaic and practical train of decisive experiments.
If our doctrine is correct, that the methods and rules of induction them-
selves rest upon the belief in design, then final cause is so far from being
barren that she deserves to be honored as the Alma Mater of the Induc-
tive Philosophy itself.
(6.) The adap- 8 619. (6.) It is objected a^ain, that what are called the adap-
tations of nature .' . j , ,.. „.
are only the con- tations of nature, are only the necessary conditions of exist-
ditions of exis- .. . . *
tence. ence and its phenomena.
604
THE HUMAN INTELLECT.
619.
When, for example, the eye is said to be adapted to the light, and both
to the production of vision, this says the objector, is only another phrase for
saying that the eye as we find it, acting with the light as we find it, pro-
duces the pictures upon the retina, and these acting with the intellect and
sentient organism, produce the sense-perceptions which we call vision.
What are called the ends of nature, to which her forces are said to be
adapted, are simply the effects of which these forces are the necessary
and actual conditions, which we transfer in thought to a period before
the activity which we presume they were fitted and arranged to accom-
plish. The fish, we say, is adapted in its structure and its instincts to the
water, and the water was prepared with relation to the fish, but there
could be no fish without the water, for without this, the existence and
conception of the fish are impossible.
1 We know only what appears, i. e., what is made manifest, and we know it under the single
relation of the forces which cause it to be. This is the only relation under which we can re-
gard it. As to whether other effects might or might not have been produced from these causes
in different conjunctions and intensities, we have no means of deciding. Whether other effects
may not be produced in future we cannot say. All that we know is what has been, and now is,
and by what means. These have been, and are, and occur under the condition of these very
causes and laws. To say that these conditions are also adapted to these effects as ends, is to
superinduce a relation which is not required for the explanation of the facts. The interpreta-
tion of actual effects as adapted or intended or as ends is a mere fiction of the imagination.'
" I take good care," says Geoffroy St. Hilaire, " not to ascribe any intention to God, for I distrust the
feeble powers of my reason. I observe facts merely and go no farther. I only pretend to the character
of the historian of what is. I cannot make nature an intelligent being who does nothing in Tain,
who acts by the shortest mode, who does all for the best." — Phil. Zool. p. 10. To the. same purport says
Auguste Comte, " Si les philosophes qui de nos jours tiennent encore a la doctrine des causes finales n'etaient
point ordinairement depourvus d'une veritable instruction scientifique un peu approfondie ils n'auraient
pas manque," etc.— Phil. Pos., II. 38. " Toutes fois les irrationels partisans des causes finales s'efforcaient
vainement d'appliquer une telle consideration a la justification philosophique de leur absurde optimisme."
—IV. 638.
It is manifest that these views coincide precisely with those of the old Epicureans, who conceived the
universe with its living beings as the result of blind forces, in respect to the action of which we could not
say what might yet come or how long the present forces might continue.
A special application has been made of this dictum to the doctrine of the nature and pro-
duction of species in animal and vegetable life, by Dr. Darwin, in his work on the Origin of
Species. This writer teaches that the so-called species in nature are the accidental, but
not intended, consequents of certain combinations which gave predominance to certain con-
spicuous attributes or properties, which were again strengthened by other combinations till
they were fixed into permanent races by the conspiring action of the same forces under
which they gradually assumed their present forms. In the processes of animal generation and
vegetable growth multitudes of other possible species have been evolved, but the laws of life
were not friendly to their continuance, or to the development and action of their peculiar prop-
erties, and so they perished. The stronger individuals conquered the weaker, and thus, under
the law of natural selection, the forms of being now called species, both animal and vegetable,
exist and occupy the earth ; an equilibrium having been at last attained after an indefinitely
long period of strife, of action and counteraction, of balancing and final adjustment. For a
statement of this theory in earlier times see Lucretius, de Nat. rerum, v. 837, sqq., and for a
reply, Cicero, de Nat. deor. 37.
§621. DESIGN OK FINAL CAUSE. 605
Reply. The § 620. In reply to this class of objections, we need only say
nofderiveSSom that they apply, not to the position that the belief in final cause
experience. -g a £rgt principie? but to the doctrine that this belief is derived
from observation and required by experience. If the principle is intuitive
and a priori (in the sense explained, § 521), we bring it with us to the ex-
planation of the facts. We do not derive it from experience by an a po-
steriori method, but we apply it to experience by one relatively a priori.
It is true, if facts and phenomena were inconsistent with the principle, we
should be embarrassed by the discrepancy of the two. But no incompati-
bility is urged, but only that final causes are not proved by experience. It
is conceded that the explanation by efficient causes is not inconsistent with
that by final causes, inasmuch as it is through effects actually produced
that we infer they were intended and provided for.
Experience But we take issue with the position that we find nothing
gives ns more ,..,..
than the condi- more than the conditions of existence, as we come to
tions of mere ex- .. „ . _ . . • i i „ -,.
istence. the study ot nature with the expectation that we shall dis-
cover special examples of adaptation. We find not merely the conditions
of mere existence in the causes of effects produced, but the conditions
of well-being, or adaptations to a highly artificial, elevated, and re-
fined existence and enjoyment ; and these in forms so manifold as to be
entirely consistent with the a priori principle which we bring to the ex-
planation of the facts. The proof of this assertion can only be gathered
from the study of individual examples.
The most striking of these are found in the study of living organisms. We discover in the
eye not merely the conditions of sight, but of perfect, unembarrassed vision, as in the dark pig-
ment with which the inner chamber is coated to prevent the disturbing influence of reflected
rays upon the picture within. "We notice also the closing or opening of the iris according
to the intensity of the stimulating light, as it contracts and withdraws this delicate fringe to
suit its occasions. We observe also the power of self-adjustment with which the retina
itself is endowed so as to act as a movable screen which goes back and forward to and from
the lenses that refract the light, and the more wonderful pliancy with which the form of each
is flattened or rounded according to the distance of the object. We see in those animals
which require a long vertical range of vision and in those which require a range that is hori-
zontal a corresponding shape of the pupil and opening through it. We find, moreover, in
some animals, as the horse, an ingenious, self-acting arrangement for wiping and cleansing the
eye. In all these facts we find not merely the conditions of certain forms of being, but
instances of adaptation to certain forms of well-being.
§ 621. (7.) It may be objected again : that adaptation can only
is limited to or- be traced in fact in a limited class of phenomena, viz., those
ganic existence. .,. , .« , . . *
of organized existence, whereas were it a first truth it might
be discerned in all kinds of being, the inorganic as truly as the organic.
It is sufficient to reply that examples can be found in every kind of
object-matter as will be shown in another place. They are more striking
606 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 623.
witlim the region and sphere of life, indeed, but are not less real beyond
that sphere. Besides, this axiom is the foundation on which rests the
structure of the inductive method, which is as often applied to inorganic
as to organic being — to the dispositions and relations of the great
masses which make up the structure of the universe as truly as to the
inner relations which unite the parts of a living being. This makes
necessary its application to every kind and style of existence, if this were
the only ground.
(s.) we are not 8. 622. (8.) It might also be urged that we cannot trace or
warranted in af- ? v 7_ . ° _ • 'T -A . '. - ' ,
firming it of aii interpret adaptations on a scale sufficiently extensive to war-
ence. rant our affirming that they exist throughout the whole uni-
verse of being. ' We may, indeed, guess at them within a limited range ot
observation, but we cannot actually survey the vast spaces which are filled
with material and spiritual life, nor can we ever be certain that we have
mastered them all in thought. There may be some portion of this universe
which design does not control and where adaptations do not exist. It is
presumptuous to assume that we can trace the adaptations and discover
the ends of the entire universe.'
If all this were admitted, the facts would not hold against the prin-
ciple that ends exist, and that adaptations to them regulate all the things
that are. It is for the principle which we contend, not for infallibility in
the application of it to individual cases.
It is with final causes in this respect as it is with efficient causes. That
both exist, and both control the universe is known to the human mind by
the necessity of its nature. The discovery of instances and examples of each
is accomplished by experience and induction. Both can be traced by ob-
servation to but few classes of objects, and within that portion of the uni-
verse only which comes under our eye or ear, or the report of our fellow-
men.
But one can be traced as far as the other. What is connected with its fellow as adapted to
an end under this relation, is an efficient agent or force. If we can trace gravitation as far as the
utmost verge of material being, we can also affirm that it was designed to hold the masses in their
relative positions and their paths of motion. The principle of final cause moreover is absolutely
required to warrant the extension of the relations of efficient causes observed within a limited
sphere, throughout those regions of which observation and testimony can give only an uncer-
tain and incomplete report.
(9 ) Adaptation § 623, (9*) "LaSt °f a11 ** ma^ ^e Sa^> tliat tlie recognition
cannot be affirm- 0f this as a first principle would require us to ascribe inten-
ed of an unlim- r x j
ited Being. tion and adaptation to an unlimited Being, whereas it
supposes certain forces or powers already given or existing, and the
problem arises how to dispose of these so as to attain or produce the de-
signed result. Such a problem can never, it is contended, be presented to
an unlimited Being, who, by the very supposition, is not shut up to forces
or agencies which already exist, but can produce effects by a fiat of crea«
§ 625. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 607
tive will. Moreover, the supposition would introduce into such a mind
an order the reverse of the rational. It would make the production of
agencies go before the disposition of them to an end. It would make
blind force precede wise forecast.
None of these inferences are warranted. Because in the order of de-
sign thought must recognize the possible adaptations of forces, it does
not follow that the forces must exist in order to be thought of as existing,
or in orcler that certain adaptations should be determined. Both, indeed,
may be objects of design, the existence of the forces and their adapta-
tions; or rather, the existence of the forces because of their adaptations to
accomplish some end of thought. Even the human mind, impotent as it
is to create, sometimes imagines to itself, i e., creates in thought some new
agent in the world of matter or of spirit, and revels in contriving the
variety of uses to which it might make it subservient. How much more
readily may that Being whose thoughts can in any instant become powers,
laws, and facts !
The rinci le is § 62^# "^u^ *ne mos* instructive view which we can take of
c»Snneed i>v?ts tn*s principle is to contemplate the variety of its appli-
applications. cations. Truths purely metaphysical, especially First or
Intuitional Truths, are never apprehended in actual being as general prop-
ositions. They can only be discerned in the concrete, as they actually
connect individual things or phenomena. Thus, we cannot discern causation
or adaptation as universal d priori; we only discern an event or
being as causative or caused, as a means or an end. When we appeal
to the use which is made of these relations in the sciences as proof that
they are fundamental and intuitive, we expect to find that these sciences
constantly assume these relations to be valid, by connecting their objects
by means of them. The constant repetition of this relation and the im-
portant uses to which it is applied add incidental strength to the positive
arguments for its being an intuition of the intellect.
,. „. 8 625. 1. The first application which we notice is that which
Is applied in « rr ^ ^
metaphysical sci- jg made bv metaphysical science itself. We have already
ence itself. . . . . . , .
insisted on its importance in sustaining sundry metaphysical
axioms of Induction. § 487. Upon this we need not dwell.
Its application in the formation and arrangement of those general con-
ceptions which are at once the materials and the conditions of all science,
is of equal consequence, though perhaps not equally obvious.
(rt.) The principle of final cause regulates the formation of concepts.
By abstraction or analysis we separate the qualities or attributes of existing
In the formation beings, and by synthesis we unite them so as to form concepts representing
of concepts. reaj an(j fictitious objects. We define these concepts by enumerating the con-
stituent elements which make up the essence of each. For example, chalk as
a concept, is defined as white, with a certain feel, etc., etc., or, scientifically defined, it is a
carbonic acid united with lime. The formula representing any concept and its constituents
608 THE HUM AT* INTELLECT. § 627
isA=a + b-j-c + d, etc., etc. But we are not at liberty to select any attributes whicb
analysis gives us and to unite them into any complex notion which they might form. Some
are adapted by logical compatibility to be conjoined, while others are not so fitted. If
we search into the grounds of the rules or axioms which regulate this logical compati-
bility we shall find that they rest upon the assumption that nature has designed that
things or beings to which we apply our concepts should permanently continue, giving meaning
to the law of identity ; that they should be distinguished, giving the law of contradiction ; and
that they should be generalized, giving the law of the excluded middle. Again : we assume
that nature has fitted these objects to be known in their actual relations. This leads us to
infer that the laws of thought really represent the relations of things.
But again : not all the attributes which are logically compatible are, in fact, united in
concepts by any earnest thinker. The centaur, the mermaid, the hippogriff are logically pos-
sible, but not actually. Why? Because the properties or attributes which constitute them
are not adapted to exist together in the same being, and, of course, except for the service of
the fancy, are never combined. The mouth of man could not receive the food fitted for the
stomach of the horse, and the body of a man could not be carried " full high advanced " upon
the shoulders and body of the same animal. There is something in these properties, or in what
they represent, which fits them to coexist, or they cannot with any reason be combined in a con-
cept which connects the rational and real ; which represents things as actual or possible, or
contemplates them as ends under existing powers or laws.
in the system- § 626. (b.) The same principle must be assumed in the ar-
ization of con- « p ■ _.
cepts. rangement 01 a system 01 concepts as genera and species.
It is evident, that as we might make as many concepts as the varied aggregations of
single attributes would allow, so these might be arranged into as many genera and species as
the similar rule of permutation and combination would permit. Any one attribute might be
taken as generic without regard to its actual extent in nature ; with this any other might be
combined as a differentia without regard to the compatibility of the two as provided by the adap-
tations of nature's laws. It is contended by some, that in the classifications which we actually
make, we are guided by mere convenience, that we can make any attribute generic which we
please, provided it be more extensive than its differentia in its actual prevalence, but that there
are no such things as real genera and species ; the concepts having no meaning in such an
application. Now if we assume that there are no affinities or adaptations in properties and laws,
no ends to which the powers of nature are adapted, and which are designed to be permanent,
this view is correct. But the moment we assume that such adaptations exist, and that they
can be discovered, as well as the ends which they subserve, then the belief in permanent classes
is justified and explained. Every class of beings which are grouped by relations and affinities
that involve some obvious adaptations of a permanent character, and imply obvious ends with
respect to known powers and forces, or even with respect to the mind's sense of order, beauty,
or perfection, is pronounced a real class, as distinguished from those chance and fantastic
groupings which indicate neither.
It is notorious, that in the lower and inorganic structures, the physical agencies and laws
are the most obvious, while in the regions of organic existence, the higher we ascend, we dis-
cern more and more of the relations of adaptation. This explains why it is difficult for natu-
ralists to find the so-called real genera and species in the mineral kingdom ; why it is more
difficult to determine the species of plants than the species of animals, and why among animals
the species of the higher are more easily determined than are those of the lower.
in the definition § 62^ (c0 Tnis relation is essential to an intelligible concep-
of an individual. tiou an(j definition of an individual.
§ 629. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 609
The term individual can scarcely be denned by physical or mathematical relation!
alone. One individual atom may, indeed, be distinguished from another by the place it occu«
pies at any moment of time, by the forces it exerts, and the laws which it obeys. But another
atom, occupying the same space at the same time, exerting the same force, and obeying the
same laws, could, so far as every one of these properties are concerned, be substituted for
this. Any one of the myriads of millions of molecules might take the place of any other.
But if each is considered as having some destiny to fulfil, some end to which it is adapted,
that end defines its individuality. It may not be necessary to assert that each separate atom
is unlike every other, and so is a distinct monad; according to the doctrine of Leibnitz that
no two monads can be exactly alike. Tt may be sufficient to hold, that no other can take ita
place in connection with every other without defeating the ends of creation, for then each
atom attains relations which distinguish it as a separate individual. Much more does every
mass of inorganic matter, whether it is piled into a heap, concreted into a rock, or poured
forth as water. Still more strikingly does every crystal, by seeming to strive towards a special
form establish itself as an individual. In a higher sense is every plant an individual, as it
gathers in from the earth, the air, and water, all which it requires for the end for which it
strives in growth, development, and reproduction. The animal is seen to be an individual more
emphatically, as it is furnished with instincts that prompt it to those activities which have for
their end its preservation and well-being, as well as that intelligent capacity, which in many
species, as the fox, the dog, the rat, and the elephant, recognizes the fitness of certain actions
to a desired purpose. Man is an individual in the highest sense, because he can distinctly
propose to himself the end of his being and actions through the prudence which looks out
for private good and the morality which finds its life by losing it in disinterested love ; by the
science which interprets the universe in its laws and adaptations ; and in that religion that
mirrors the glory of the Creator whom he worships.
§ 628. id.) The principle is of the greatest value as a crite-
As a criterion of °, « . i i n • i Tm -. • •
truth and a rule rion oi truth and a rule oi certitude. When skepticism
suggests that every principle may be questioned, and every
observation of fact maybe mistaken; that the objective creation may be a
shifting phantasmagoria, and the subjective mind but a lying glass of
opinion; then the thought of the inconceivable non-adaptation of such a
universe to any rational end even of knowledge, restores our confidence
in the testimony of the senses, the experiences of consciousness, and the
inductions of reason. We try all these by one another, and by the tests
which experience and science have discovered, but we trust them at last,
when they conspire to ends that are worthy of rational order in a universe
adapted to be known by a being who is manifestly designed to know, and
to confide in his knowledge when properly tried and proved.
Applied m geo- § 629« 2« In toe Mathematics even, the presence of this- re-
Srfctfn and lation is often recognized.
deduction. jn pUre geometry it may be applied more frequently than
would be anticipated. The circle is adapted to prove a great variety of
theorems, and to solve many problems, as is manifest in any treatise on
geometry. If we are required to construct two triangles on the same
base, the angles of which at the apex of each shall be right angles, it can
readily be done by describing a half-circle on this line as a diameter, and
any number of triangles can at once be drawn so as to fulfil the required
39
610 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §630.
conditions. We discern in a portion of space bounded by a half-circle,
the capacity or adaptation, that waited long to be discerned ; i. e. the
means adapted to an important end.
In a similar way, by a skilful construction of squares, parallelograms, and triangles, it
may be demonstrated that the squares on the legs of a right-angled triangle are equal to the
square upon its hypothenuse. Indeed, the number of these possible adaptations in the vari-
ous figures which may be constructed in space to solve and prove problems and theorems, is
well-nigh incomputible, as is manifest from the constant progress of geometrical science. The
invention of the geometer is constantly tasked in efforts to hit upon the requisite construc-
tions, and to draw the auxiliary lines which are needed to enable him to reach the end which he
proposes. The relations of pure number open as wide a field of inherent fitnesses to serve the
ends of the student. It is upon the faith that additional adaptations remain to be discovered
that the mathematician prosecutes his inventive work of discovery.
The adaptations of the mathematics to the service of physics are if possible
In applied geo- st*^ more striking. No projectile was ever thrown in an exact parabola
metry. but the theory of this curve is adapted to explain the direction and motion
of every body that is launched into the atmosphere. The theory of the lines
in which bodies tend to move, and the rates in which bodies, when impelled, move in fact, is
adapted to regulate the mechanics of bodies as they fall to the earth, and the motions of the
orbs which revolve in the heavens. It also explains the phenomena of the pressure of fluids.
The relations of number solve the mystery of chemical combinations, and explain the sym-
metry of agreeable forms and the harmony of musical sounds. They enable us to discern a
common law in the arrangement of the leaves upon the stem of every tree, and in the placing
of the planets along the lines which stretch out from the sun.
On the first thought, it would seem that in extension and
in applied num- num]:>er jt W0lud \>e imposible to find so great a variety of
possible adaptations. But on reflection, we find that their
capacity of multiform application is the only key to the perfection of the
sciences of matter and the reduction of its forces to unvarying laws.
We have urged that the belief in final cause must be intuitive, because
we could not otherwise confide in the axioms of induction. But we see
in the provision for the possibility of mathematical science, and of its uni-
versal application to material phenomena as the indispensable condition
of their laws, another example of design where we had least expected its
manifestation, viz. in those time and space relations which render the
mathematics possible.
Applied in geoi- § 63°- 3- Geology and Paleontology both assume the truth
ogy, etc. an(j applicability of the principle of final cause.
Geology was at first content to explain the formation of the crust of the globe by analyzing
its parts into their constituent elements, and recording the order in which the rocks had been
compacted and broken down, and the strata had been formed and deposited. In these investi-
gations it proceeded as a science of observation, watching and recording the operations of the
forces of nature according to laws already ascertained.
But, aided by paleontology, geology has proposed to itself a higher problem, and con-
templated facts under more elevated relations. It has traced a plan and order of development
restiDg on the assumption of a series of ends subordinated to one another, and terminating in
§632 DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 611
a habitation equally adapted to man's higher and lower nature. It has ventured to recall thft
successive phases of organic life by reproducing extinct species of plants and animals amid the
lakes, marshes and jungles in which they sported and from which they subsisted, and to ar-
range these phases in the order of time and of a more and more perfect development. The
assumption which directed these bold essays and enabled the observer successfully to apply
the hints furnished by the facts supplied, is, that an order of fitness and progress has been fol
lowed from the first, that each epoch has prepared the way for the next succeeding ; the adapta
tions of each being complete in animals, plants, and scenery. Following the same clue,
this science has found in each previous epoch not merely the materials of the one which suc-
ceeded, but that each represents a less perfect form of life than that which follows it. This
series terminates with man, who represents the highest type of life and shows that he is the
end for which all others are designed, by the fact that he alone can comprehend the im-
port of the plan and recognize the relations of the parts to the whole and of the whole to
himself.
It is by the intuitive belief that adaptation rules the universe,
SyS^r.tance and the expectation that its special relations may be dis-
covered, that geology has reared its imposing structures, with
the aid of here and there a fossil — structures which could never have been
reared except for this foundation to support and give order to these mate-
rials of fact and experience, — without which assumption they would de-
serve to be viewed as a day-dream, or a series of brilliant scenes from
fairy-land. Geology, by the very aims which it proposes, and the splendid
results which it has achieved, gives its tacit yet fervent assent to the
original authority of the intuition of final cause.
§631. 4. Philosophical Geography gives a similar testimony. This science, as
Applied in phil- conceived and perfected by Ritter, takes the earth where geology leaves it,
osophical geog-
raphy and shows how each continent and country was fitted for the part which it has
played in the world's history, by its structure, surface, soil, and climate, by its
mountain-barriers to repel, and its coasts and harbors to invite, by its river-systems to
bind remoter portions, or its insular situation to make defence easy. It shows that every part
of the earth was not only adapted from the first to receive and develop the race which was
allotted to it, and to become the scene of the events which have made it memorable, but to
transmit the results of these achievements to neighboring countries and other races, and
even to transfer them to remote parts of the earth and a later and better civilization. By
referring intellectual and moral influences to favoring physical conditions, it enables us
to find an adaptation to important moral results, even in the material arrangements of the
earth.
§ 632. 5. Comparative Anatomy rests upon the same intuition. It would have
Adapted to com- no meaning, as it could have no truth .without it. It is a science of similar
parative anato- . . . /.., «■,.„„
my. adaptations, not only of organs to functions, but of analogies of form and
feature and inner structure to the completeness of a progressive plan, and
even to the achievement of an aesthetic effect and the expression of an aesthetic import. It con-
nects the fin of the fish, the arm of the man, and the wing of the bird, not merely by their
adaptations to similar uses, but by the similar relations which they hold to the skeleton or
frame, regarded as framed after an ideal type. It arranges all living beings in order, as each
is adapted to a place in the series or system, by the greater or less perfection of its structure
or development. It discovers that man himself gqes through each step in the series, and
represents in his progress the history and order of that whole which he both crowns and
612 THE HUHAJST INTELLECT. §633.
completes, and in which, with reflective interpretation, he himself reads the arrangements of a
rational Artist.
Give this science a bone, and it will draw or model the animal, tell you how large he was,
how formed, on what he lived, what were his habits and disposition, what the length of his
afe, — and all because it reads the adaptations that gather and cluster around this fragment
of the skeleton, which except as thus interpreted were only a broken and abraded fossil.
Applied to phy- § 633. 6. Iii Physiology, special and general, similar relations
aniSstructSe are m°re numerous and manifest. The departments of ani-
generally. maj an(^ vegetable life abound, or rather overflow with ex-
amples of fitness and adjustment. The nicer the analysis of elements
and of organs, and the more subtle the detection of offices and func-
tions, so much the more exquisite are the discerned relations of adaptation
of each to each. Not only is there seen a fitness of one organ to another,
as of the lungs to the heart, and to the common end of all, but there is a
fitness of every organ to the element in and by which it acts, as of the
lungs to the air and of the eye to the light. The more we learn of the
structure of the one and of the properties of the other, the nicer are the
adaptations which we discern between the two.
The adaptations of the organs to the disposition and destiny of the animal, are,
In its adaptation .„ . , .,, . _ ,. , -.*,.-,,
to the disposition if possible, still more interesting. In this case, the end to which the structure
the^ animal.nS °^ tne bodily organs is adjusted, is as yet non-existent, and the uses to which it
is to be applied are not apparent till the animal has passed several stages of
development, and perhaps has assumed two or three lower forms of being. If we examine the
eye of the hawk, the owl, the cat, and the mole, we find that in them all, the form of the pupil,
the capacity for contraction and enlargement, the length and the range of vision, as well as the
power of the optic nerve, are all specially adjusted with reference to the prey which each is des-
tined to seek, and to the methods and facilities by which it must secure it. These again are
adapted to the impulses and dispositions of the animals, so far as these prompt them to the
special acts to which the eyes are adjusted. Some animals exist in two or three forms of being,
as the caterpillar, the chrysalis, and the butterfly ; and it is noticed that with the sphere of
existence belonging to each, there is a similar adaptation of every part of the inmost structure
to the still more interior disposition and instincts. So that in the being who begins to be, there-
are present not merely existing endowments fitted to one another and the sphere of their ac-
tivity, but undeveloped capacities in the same variety and completeness, of their fitness to a
sphere and to functions as yet undeveloped and not even conjectured by man.
In the animal frame there is protection against the injury of any portion
I n protection to which the structure or habits of life open any special exposure. Thus the
andeiposiri^7 brain is defended by the thickness and form of the skull, from violent blows,
and from jar or concussion by a series of elastic cartilages ; — thus also the sub-
stance of several organs is specially insensible because exposed to specially trying usage. The
animals who are destined to fight and to live in special danger, are furnished not only with
weapons of attack, but with an armor of defence, or if armor is not provided them, swiftness
and dexterity are supplied in its place.
The adaptations of the frame of man to the functions and uses of the
rational soul, are still more striking ; but we here approach, if we do not
cross, the line which divides physiology from Anthropology.
§634. DESIGN OE FINAL CAUSE. 613
§ 634. 7. In Anthropology we trace these higher adaptations,
ttSopofogy. an" The human hand does not differ more strikingly from the
hand of the monkey than the mind of the monkey from the
mind of man. The mind of man has endeavored to discover and combine
the powers of nature, and to devise the appliances of art. Whatever
the mind has prompted the hand to construct, the hand has been able
to frame, either through the seemingly exhaustless versatility of its flexible
organism, or by the tools and machinery with which it has contrived to
supplement its powers. So wonderful has been this service, that it has been
questioned, whether the human intellect or the human hand has been the
most conspicuous in shaping human destiny and in developing human his-
tory. The hand has also by the economy of nature been fitted to be the
medium of conveying varied intellectual and emotional expression to the
intellect and heart, which have been as mysteriously fitted to receive and
interpret its indications. The hand invites and repels, commands and
forbids, soothes and enrages. It appeases with its gentle waving, and
smites with ferocious energy. It adores with the uplifted arm, it
blesses with the outspread palm ; it blasphemes with aimless and impotent
motions, and curses with its downward stroke.
But there is no adaptation of the mind and body that gives to both united an
In the provisions . , . , „ . , „ . ;. ,, ,
for and the ca- interest which at once so fascinates and baffles our prymg scrutiny, as that
eua^e!8 °f lan exhibited in the agency of both in the production, use, and development
of language. There are two conditions of language, the bodily and the mental.
The bodily are also two, the mouth and the ear, to which the hand and the eye are accessory. If
the vocal organs are imperfect or lamed, there can be no speech. If the ear is closed or disabled,
the speech cannot be received, and there can be no language. But the mind must also furnish
its material through its required capacities and development. Language is impossible until
the mind observes and generalizes and affirms. In other words, the mind must first think the
material and spiritual universe with which it comes in contact into the thought-world which its
powers and laws fit it to create, before it can give to it expression by language. There must
also be awakened the impulse to speak, and with it there must be called into action the capacity
to speak. Man does not invent language under the strong desire to communicate, any more
than he invents walking under the desire to go from one place to another. He finds himself
walking under an adaptation of his limbs which is manifested by their actual use, which use is
also perfected and trained. In the same way he finds himself talking, i. e., using bodily
sounds to express and impart thoughts and feelings, under an impulse and by an adaptation of the
body to the soul which is more striking. This adaptation of the vocal and the spiritual to each
other, and of the possible elaboration of the one to the possible refinement of the other, quite
go beyond the observed fitness of the eye to the light, or of the ear to the agent of sound. The
materials adjusted to one another are in their nature most diverse, being parted by the wide
chasm which seems to divide matter and spirit ; and yet in the functions of matter as organized
for speech, there are dormant capacities for the service of the as yet undeveloped attainments
of spirit. These relations do not exhaust all the adaptations which are brought to light by the
unfolding of language. Not only are these two parts of the complex body and soul fitted to
expand side by side with one another, but the expression of thought in language reacts with
wondrous energy on the development and refinement of thought itself, so that it is not only true
that the developed thought finds itself able to employ language in its service, but it is also true
614 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 035.
that the thought in order to be developed, must express itself in langnage. Man not only
speaks because he thinks, but he speaks that he may think, i. e., think with clearness, preci-
sion and progress. The two are not merely so adapted that the one can expand side by side
with the other, but it is difficult to say which is the most dependent on the other.
There is another class of adaptations which here present themselves. Man is
Relations of Ian- ^tted for society, and in society only finds his natural sphere. But society is
guage to society, possible only through language. The complicated and refined adjustments of
matter and spirit which find their proximate end in language, reach still further
in their remoter adaptations to man's social existence and well-being.
The celebrated Galen says, in his treatise concerning the human body, that by the variety and
accordant action of its adjustments, it seems to utter an anthem of praise to its maker. But
the philosopher who reflects on the mystery of human language, in the subtlety of the ele-
ments involved, the variety of the conjunctions, the delicacy of the structure, and its capacity
for growth and development ; especially if he watches the feeble beginnings of such splendid
promise in the lispings of infancy, would find a new meaning in the familiar words " Out of the
mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise."
§ 635. 8. In Psychology the occasions for final cause are
^ychofogy? to Hiore frequent and pressing than in either physiology or
anthropology. The human soul is one, and hence in
certain aspects and relations it must be viewed as a single force. But its
modes of action are various, as are also the conditions of its activity, giv-
ing products that are distinguished in consciousness. They are also dis-
cerned as similar in their properties, in the occasions of their production
and the laws of their activity. In this way, we apply the relation of
efficient causation to explain the phenomena and faculties of the soul.
But it is often difficult for consciousness to analyze the oper-
tanS^Sci- ations and products that are so closely entwined in our ex-
perience, and to trace each product back to the separate germ
from which it springs into life. The adaptations of these operations and
products to one another, and to the manifest ends of the soul's culture and
well-being are, however, often so obvious and remarkable, that they fre-
quently settle questions that would otherwise remain unsolved. For exam-
ple, in considering the acquired perceptions, it is uoticed that animals
possess from the beginning, a capacity of judging of distance and size
which man is forced to acquire by slow and painful effort. It is ques-
tioned whether our observations in respect to this point can be trusted,
whether there is not some error or oversight in the analysis of the phe-
nomena. The consideration of the end to be accomplished by this ap-
parently abnormal arrangement relieves the difficulty. Man, we observe,
needs the discipline required by the slow process of acquiring what the
animal knows (after the animal fashion of knowing) at the beginning.
The consideration of adaptation removes the similar difficulties sug-
gested by the question, * why the range of instinct is so much wider
and more unerring in the lower animals than it is in man, the highest of
all?' We assent to the truth, that the destiny and ends of the two
§ 636. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 615
are so diverse that we may reasonably accept the evidence which obser
vation furnishes.
We notice that the powers of observation, the so-called objective powers, are
Explains the dif- developed at a period and with an energy and effect which are strikingly con>
development. trasted with the slow and feeble unfolding of the rational and reflective. How
this should be, we cannot so easily answer ; i. e., according to what law of
efficient causation. There is no antecedent necessity in any power or law of nature or spirit,
that requires such an order of development. But why, or for what end it is so, can be under-
stood if we consider the purposes that are to be accomplished by furnishing the intellect
iargely with materials before it is called to elaborate them, and by letting loose the soul in the
freedom of spontaneous activity before it is schooled to the painful processes of reflective
thought. The ends accomplished are not intellectual only. Those which respect man's social
condition and his emotional and moral culture, should also be considered, and these are ever
forcing themselves upon our attention.
Above all, psychology acquaints us with the rational faculty
the rational fac- as that pre-eminent power which proposes ends and devises
ulty is supreme. .
means for their accomplishment. It acknowledges that this
is the highest of the intellectual powers, that it is lawfully supreme, that
in the service of this power we investigate causes and determine laws in
order that we may attain some end or direct the result to some noble or
useful application. In the subjection and adaptation of the lower to this
highest power it finds confirmation of the propriety of assuming the
relation of adaptation in all our interpretations of nature. If "on the
earth there is nothing great but man, and in man, there is nothing great
but mind," it is emphatically true that in the mind there is nothing great
but the reason which proposes and discovers ends, and is itself an end
to the lower actings of the intellect.
§ 636. (9.) Ethics, the science of duty, which is so closely
s^edmaeth£" allied to, if it is not a department of psychology, is founded
entirely upon the intuition in question. Indeed, that ethics
should be made a science, it is necessary to assume that the relation of
adaptation is intuitively known. Its subject matter is derived from the
ends of human existence and human activity. The comprehensive and
fundamental question which it asks, is, for what kind of action is the hu-
man soul adapted by its constitution, and what must man be and do to
fulfil this end ? Whatever be the language in which this question is
phrased, and whatever the answer which it receives, it rests on the single
assumption that man is fitted for one kind of action rather than for another,
and that the action for which he is fitted is right, while the action for
which he is not fitted is wrong. It asks, how shall these adaptations be
discerned ? By what faculty or capacity, one or more, are they discerned
and responded to ? What are the tests or criteria by which they are dis-
tinguished ? What external actions or duties must we perform in order
most effectually to fulfil these ends ?
Corresponding to the power of apprehending duty, is the faculty of
616 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §638,
will or choice qualifying man to fulfil the end of his being. The existence
of this power, its importance to human development and responsibility, the
necessity that it should be defended in its integrity, explain the necessity
of moral trial, and the possibility of moral evil; under the one relation of the
ends which the possession of this power and the exposures which it in-
volves are adapted to fulfil.
The adaptations with which ethics has to do, are chiefly internal, and suppose
The adaptations a spiritual organism in the soul — a svstem of internal adaptations in the sev-
cnieny psychi- r
cal. eral powers with which it is endowed, which indicate our duties and our obliga-
tions. These all exist for moral perfection. To this the soul is adapted and
to it it tends and is impelled. Without this intuition and faith in its truth, ethics can have no
meaning and duty no authority. If reason as proposing ends is the highest ruling power in
man, then the reason, when it discovers and proposes the highest moral ends, exercises its lof-
tiest function, and reigns sovereign over the inner and outer world by a self-justified authority.
§ 637. 10. In Theology, or the science of God, whether natu-
tffiSgy!011 t0 ra^ or revealed, this principle is of supreme importance. The
most of the so-called demonstrations of the being of God, find
their material or grounds of proof in the indications of design that are
furnished in the material and spiritual universe.
These arguments are usually stated somewhat thus: Design proves or implies
tlfeJDMneexS a designer ; The universe abounds in design ; Therefore the universe implies
pnce in its usual 0r proves a designer. Or, order and adaptation imply a designer ; The uni-
verse abounds in order and adaptation ; Therefore a designer exists.
The major premise in this argument is obviously assumed or received as d priori. The minor
is a statement of fact grounded on observation or induction. Those who employ it would not
accept the view for which we contend, that the belief that adaptation prevails throughout the
zmiverse is a first truth or axiom of thought. They rest their belief upon observation, and
they search through the universe to discover instances of the presence of this relation. Hav-
ing observed a sufficient number, they gather them into a result by induction, and then apply
the proposition which expresses them as the minor premise of their syllogism.
We have sought to prove that the proposition affirming final cause is a first principle or
intuitive truth ; that it is not in any sense dependent on observation, but is an original and
necessary belief or category ; that so far from being derived from induction, it is the necessary
ground on which induction itself must rest for its validity and application.
It is an interesting question, How does this doctrine stand related to
the knowledge of God and the belief in his existence and attributes ? We
find in point of fact, that it has opened the way for speculative inquiry
which has resulted in a great variety of diverse opinions.
Two classes of § 638- These diversities of opinion may all be grouped in two
spect°toStne lit fading classes or divisions, according as the adherents of each
ThefirtfrSecS reJect or accept the belief of a personal God. The one class
personality. believe in design as an immanent force, which does not in-
volve a relation to any thing beyond the object itself. They fully accept
the truth that design rules throughout nature. They find examples of
the relation of final cause everywhere present. But they insist that these
§639. DESIGN OE FINAL CAUSE. Gil
do not necessarily carry the thoughts out of nature. Final cause or de-
sign is a force in nature itself, being immanent in each separate object, or
in all existing objects, taken as an organism or whole of parts mutually
related and connected.
For example : the vine growing in the dark corner of a cellar, follows after the light by
a tendency toward the condition of its well-being, in obedience to whose impulses it acts under
the law of design which is within the vine itself. In a similar way the vital force organizes
the animal structure, anticipating by an immanent adaptation in the form, material, and func-
tional capacity of each organ, the end which it actually reaches in the fully developed indi-
vidual by itself and in the individual as related to the species. So the bird builds its nest
under the same law of immanent adaptation of its tendencies towards the end which the neces-
sities and nature of the bird require. Under the working of the same law, the bee moulds its
cell and its comb, and the beaver constructs its dam and its double house. So, under a simi-
lar immanent force acting as a law to all its working, has the universe developed itself through
its successive phases in the several geologic periods, involving the production of the
varied forms of animal and vegetable life till it has reached the end to which it has all the while
oeen tending, viz., the production of self-conscious and rational man, who is an end to himself
and nature, and who can interpret the mutual adaptations of both.
Those who hold this doctrine, concede that adaptation prevails in nature, and must be
assumed to explain its powers and operations ; also, that it works all the while as though a
personal mind had contrived these ends and the relations which they involve, and also con-
tinued to direct them. But they urge that we are not forced to ascribe this adaptation to a
personal being, but may refer it to an impersonal, unconscious, unthinking force, as blind
and unintelligent as the efficient forces that act by mechanical laws.
8 639. The second class contend that the necessary correlate
The second ac- .. .... «t*-i •
eeptsa personal to adaptation is a designing mind : Adaptation is the objec-
tive relation to which thought is an essential supplement :
Adaptation does not prove or indicate design, but it logically implies it :
If, therefore, the adaptation is real, so is the designing mind. In assum-
ing the one by an d, priori necessity, you must also assume the other.
The belief in adapted things both logically and really carries with itself
the belief in adapting thought and an adaptive thinker. The mind need
not necessarily think of the two at the same instant, or in the same con-
nection. The attention may be so concentrated upon the adaptation
objectively considered, its ingenuity, the variety of the means employed,
the intricacy and order of the combinations required, that it does not in
thought refer to the correlate, but this fact does not prove that it is not
necessarily involved. For example : in a machine of human devising, an
ingenious mind can discern very many adaptations, without adverting to
the mind which produced them, or distinctly recognizing the fact that it
proceeded from any thought. But as soon as it raises the question and
reflects on the relation it believes the fact.
It may be said in the way of objection, that when we reflect on the adapta-
tions of nature, we do not, as in the instance of a human machine, refer thesa
jec ions. adaptations to a thinking mind, but resolve them into many intervening im-
personal agencies, and reach the divine mind only by the mind's weariness in
618 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §639.
going through an unending series, or its want of philosophic courage in making thi series to
return upon itself, so as to make the universe a completed cycle — the absolute — an organism
of which every part and the whole are mutually end and means.
To this it may be replied, that it is true that the mind does not pass in
thought directly to the divine agency, but for the sole reason that it learns
by observation and experience that other agencies are interposed involving
other adaptations, which widen the range of its thinking and enlarge its con-
ception of the organism itself. It does not refuse to allow the series of successively adapted
objects to return upon itself because it lacks the courage to think the absolute, but because tb*»
conception of an absolute, consisting of adapted elements without thought or design is irra
tional, and of course unthinkable and unbelievable. It accepts the conception and the fact
of an absolute with all its mystery, but it is an absolute that is completed and made perfect
by supplementing objective adaptations by subjective thought.
, . , If the mind were not carried from one relation to another of objective fitness,
Intermediate ,,-,.,-,■,. -, n ■, ■..,-, I
agencies do not and thus detained and diverted from the necessary correlate, it would proceed
disprove person- directly to the designing mind,— the intelligent originator. Such is the faith
of children. This also is the faith of those races of men who have not attained
to the knowledge of the general forces and the undeviating laws of nature. Such believe that
ingenuity supposes intelligence, and find no difficulty in believing in the direct energy of a
superior intelligence, even while they hold to the action of the few second causes which their
limited experience of nature has enabled them to generalize. This may be called superstition,
it is true, but it is really superstition so far only as it directs its faith to mistaken objects or
overlooks the agency of intermediate forces. It is no error to refer adaptations to intel-
ligence, however serious an error it may be to narrow the range of the fitnesses. What makes
the superstition plausible and tenacious is the truth that intelligence is required. Not only
would one ' rather believe all the fables of the Alcoran, ' as Bacon says, but it is more rational
to believe them, than that " the universe is without a mind." To exclude or to deny this
reference of these designs to such a mind, is the superstition of modern philosophy which so
restricts the attention to the efficient causes which render adaptation possible and evident,
as to fail to regard them under the higher relation.
An example will illustrate the similarity and the difference between the application of this relation
in the case of the savage, who ascribes a single instance of adaptation directly to a rational deviser, and
tbe philosopher in the other, who sees it extend so widely and numerously over an immense field of effi-
cient agencies that he questions whether to ascribe it to a rational spirit at all. "We take a plant, say the
weed that is trodden under our feet, or the bud that is just starting in the nearest hedge. The plant is
itself so abundant in adaptations, that regarding it by itself, we might say it was produced directly by a
creating power ; but we discover that it was not so created but was evolved from a tiny seed. But the
seed, to produce it, must depend upon the light and moisture, upon the sun and the earth, as co-agencies,
in order that it may germinate and grow into a perfected plant. The seed in its turn was evolved from
another plant, which was also evolved in a similar way and ripened from another plant by the aid of sun
and air and earth. What if this is so 1 Are not the heat and light and moisture as really adapted to the
several parts of the plant, as the organs of the plant in their functions are adapted to one another ? Are
not all an organism, as truly, though not by so close and exclusive a connection, as are the constituents of the
plant itself? Is not the whole series of the plants of a single species, with all the agencies which condition
their coexistent and continuous life, as truly an organism of mutually adapted elements, as if a single in-
dividual of a non-existent species had been created in the morning and had perished at night ? The dis-
covery of additional conditions, though they stretch throughout the universe in space, or of efficient forces,
though they extend in time through a long scries and are connected as parent and offspring, simply
renders the structure more complex and its adaptations more various and interesting.
The knowledge of efficient causes suffers the same enlargement and expansion
Efficient causa- .
tion consistent as the knowledge of final causes. The savage ascribes the effect directly to
Seag^S631" its proximate efficient and goes no farther. He does not ask, he does not
answer, whether this efficient is so related to other causes as to be itself an
effect. Or if he soon learns that this is true on a limited scale and within a narrow range, he
§640. SUBSTANCE AND ATTEIBUTE I MIND AND MATTER. 6 IS
does not so extend his thoughts as to grasp the grand agencies of the universe, and see thai
these operate after definite laws, and together constitute a comprehensive mechanism of
mutually related causes and effects. But his belief in the relation is as real as is that of the
philosopher notwithstanding that he applies it in a limited or superstitious way. It does not
therefore follow that because the savage and the superstitious make a limited application of the
principle of final cause the philosopher should not believe that it pervades the universe, and
requires as its correlate a designing mind.
The relation of § ^°* ^ke application of this principle in the service of
efficient to final Natural Theology raises another question ; viz., What relation
has efficient to final causation in the universe ? Does each lead
us to its separate principle or agent, or do both united direct us to one ?
Does the adapting agent simply take the efficient forces and laws of the
universe as it finds them, and arranging them as best it may, bring out
of them the wisest results to which its sagacity may adapt them, or does it
also originate the forces which it arranges and combines ? The one view
gives the eternity of matter, with its hindrances and limitations and
possibilities of evil, making the Deity a Demiurgos or Plastic energy.
The other makes the originator and the arranger to be the same power
and mind. The one view is the cruder theism of Ancient Philosophy, the
other the purer theism of the Jewish and Christian Scriptures.
It would carry us too far from our appropriate theme to argue here
the question between the two. The discussion of it belongs to Natural
Theology. Psychology suggests the following solution. The purely
Theistic theory is supported by the cardinal principle of all philosophizing
which bids us provide the fewest agencies which solve a problem or ex-
plain a^phenomenon. The theory is certainly conceivable, and the analogy
of the human soul, which combines in itself —under limits — a creatine
force and an adapting or designing force, gives the strongest possible
testimony in its favor.
CHAPTER VII.
SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE : MIND AND MATTER.
We return again to the relation of Substance and Attribute and its most important applications
in the determination of our definitions of Mind and Matter and of Real and Phenomenal
Being. The Relation itself in the abstract, we have already briefly explained under the
Formal Categories, § 542. We have also in passing alluded to its applications to the
objects of Sense-perception and of Consciousness,%$$ 165,6; 96. To do complete justice to
it, however, we must first have considered the various classes of relations which are
known as attributes of material and psychical beings. The Relation is so fundamental
620 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. §641.
and so much discussed in Psychology and Philosophy, as imperatively to require a some-
what extended discussion.
SbSed from § 641- ^ne various import of the concepts denoted by the
the logical and WOrds should first be explained. The substance or substratum
grammatical r
subject. with which we have to do, is the Real substance or substra-
tum, and as such should first of all be carefully distinguished from the
logical substance or subject. A logical subject is any thing which is con-
ceived iu thought as a substance with attributes, whether it does or does
not exist in fact. Thus any abstractum can be treated in thought and de-
scribed in language as though it had real being, and were endowed with
real attributes. The concepts power, goodness, responsibility, representa-
tion, republic, wages, wealth, or any other abstract notion, may be conceived
in thought and treated in language as having properties or qualities which
are affirmed of each as though it were a real being. Any object of thought,
whatever it may be, which is made the subject of a mental affirmation or
predication, is a logical subject. The attributes of a logical subject are
predicated of it in the same forms of language as are the attributes of a
real being. The subject itself in all its elements is, however, generalized
from a reality, and can only be understood and interpreted by means of
such reality and the elements or relations which such a reality involves.
Real substance ought also to be distinguished from the grammatical subject. The gram-
matical subject is any word which is used in a sentence as though it were a logical subject. As a
logical subject is one of which attributes or properties are affirmed in thought, so a grammatical
subject is one of which attributes are predicated in the forms of language. The grammatical
and logical subject, as is well known, may in fact coincide or be separate from one another.
Both presuppose the Heal or Metaphysical relation of substance and attribute. They are both
imitations of it in thought or language, and derive all their meaning and force from this
original.
The Etymology § 642. The Etymology of the Terms is worth a moment's
Kr^o^Sub- notice, so far as it may serve to explain any philosophical
stance. theories and relieve any philosophical difficulties. The words
substratum, substance, and subject, have a common derivation which lite-
rally imports something standing or lying under, and implies that there
is something placed above or upon it which may be removed. This sug-
gests the impression that the attributes are superinduced upon the sub-
stance, as folds or wrappings are thrown over or around a nucleus or core
within. This prompts to the effort to lay off the covering, to separate the
wrappings from that which they invest, to scale off the laminae or folds,
and find the naked substance or substratum within or beneath, bare of all
qualities and relations. The effort to lay aside the qualities in order to
find the subject is soon discovered to be vain. It is as though one should
cut down the trees in order to find the forest. It is found to be impossible
to discover an actually-existing subject without attributes. The simplest
§ 642. SUBSTANCE AND ATTEIBUTE : MIND AND MATTER. 621
and barest object in the universe, that which in its nature is the most
uninteresting and the most undistinguished — as the mote in a sunbeam,
the minutest perceptible grain of sand, the atom or molecule which the
physicist cannot perceive, but of which he learnedly discourses, the monad
of which the metaphysician confidently speculates — must always be con-
ceived as having place and form, and as involving the relations of exten-
sion and force. But all these are attributes. The innermost nucleus or
core of every material object is still possessed of form and properties, and
is just as truly and necessarily a substance as the material object itself.
If it is conceived by abstraction as a mental something, it must still
occupy a portion of space by its power to attract and repel, i.e., it must
still be conceived as substance and quality. If the substance is spiritual,
it cannot be conceived except as endowed with certain capacities which
constitute and define it.
Etymology of ^De ^ymo^ogy and use of the terms attribute, quality, property.
tvtret?te? quali" an<^- acc^eni d° not &iye us any greater satisfaction as to thd
nature of the distinction. The term attribute simply direct! «
the attention to the fact that we attribute to, or affirm of, a being, some ■
thing which we distinguish from itself; but what we distinguish or whaf<
it is distinguished from, is in no way explained. Quality is a -term of
classification merely, and signifies the being of a certain sort, withoun
explaining how it comes to be of that sort. Property indicates, that whaii
we thus attribute or affirm belongs peculiarly or properly to the being ov
substance, and accident that it belongs to it occasionally. These different
words are only different names for the same conception, as differently
used. But their etymology or application throw no light upon the con-
ception itself, or how it originates, or is distinguished from its correlate
substance.
We learn moreover that we can no more find an attribute without substance, than we can
find a substance without attributes. We cannot separate length from something which ia
long, nor color from something colored, nor thought from a thinking being, nor joy from a
rejoicing being. The two conceptions are riever parted in the world of real being. They are
not merely correlated by a logical relation, but they are always inseparably conjoined in actual
existence.
obscurity and § 643. This analysis may explain why philosophers have
opinion in re- found so great difficulty in explaining the relation in ques-
tion. rea tion, and have been so dissatisfied with their own conclu-
sions. They have either been misled by the etymology of the terms to
expect they should find more than they had warrant to seek for, or else
they have confounded metaphysical substance with actually existing
things.
Locke observes, " We have no such clear idea at all and therefore signify nothing by
Locke's view of the word substance, but only an uncertain supposition of we know not what." (B. I. c. 4,
Substance and § 18.) And again, " Of substance we know not what it is but only a confused obscure one
Attribute. 0f what it does." (B. II. c. 13, § 19.) Again, " Not imagining how these simple ideas can
subsist by themselves, we accustom ourselves to suppose some substratum wherein they
622 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 643,
do subsist and from •which they do result, which, therefore, we call substance." (II. c. 23, § 1.) " The idea
of pure substance in general, is only a supposition of we know not what support of such qualities as are
capable of producing simple ideas in us." (23, § 2.) And yet Locke grounds the supposition in question
on « the repugnancy to our conceptions that modes and accidents should subsist by themselves,' i. e., <l that
we cannot conceive how simple ideas of sensible qualities should subsist alone, and therefore, we suppose
them to exist in, and to be supported by, some common subject ; which support we denote by the name
substance." (23, §4.)
Hume says, " The idea of a substance as well as that of a mode, is nothing but a collec-
tion of simple ideas, that are united by the imagination and have a particular name
Views of Hume, assigned them, by which we are able to recall, either to ourselves or others, that collec-
tion. But the difference between these ideas consists in this, that the particular quali-
ties which form a substance are commonly referred to an unknown something, in which
they are supposed to inhere ; or granting this fiction should not take place, are at least supposed to be
closely and inseparably connected by the relations of contiguity and causation." Hum. Nat. P. I. § 6.
Reid says, " I perceive in a billiard-ball, figure, color, and motion, but the ball is not
figure, nor is it color, nor motion, nor all these taken together ; it is something that
Of Reid. has figure, and color, and motion. This is a dictate of nature and the belief of all man-
kind. As to the nature of this something, I am afraid we can give little account of it,
but that it has the qualities which our senses discover." Essays on Int. Powers, Ess.
I.e. 19.
But how do we know that they are qualities, and cannot exist without a subject ? To this Reid replies,
" I confess I cannot explain how we know that they cannot exist without a subject any more than I can
explain how we know that they exist. "We have the information of nature for their existence, and I think
we have the information of nature that they are qualities." Id. Cf. Ess. I. c. 2 ; also, Ess. VI. c. 6, § 6.
Kant gives the following as the result of his critical inquiry : The Ding an sich (the
thing by itself) is simply unattainable by human research, and yet the philosopher is
Of Kant. doomed to follow after it over bush and brier, as after an ignis fatuus, which he never
can reach. The substance without attributes can neither in the world of matter nor in
the world of spirit be actually discovered or laid hold of. The distinction is made by
the mind alone. The substance which underlies the attributes and is manifested through activities in
phenomena, is only discerned in thought. It is a Noumenon, or thought object, as distinguished from the
Phenomenon, or object known to sense and consciousness. The one is interpreted by the other. The au-
thority of this distinction and of our belief in its validity is, however, with and for man alone. It is dis-
cerned under a form of thinking which is indeed necessary to the human intellect, but of which we cannot
assert or know that it corresponds to any objective reality.
Whewell adopts in substance the theory of Kant, and yet combines with it a mode of
speaking and of thought borrowed from Locke and Reid. " An apple which is red and
Of Whewell. round and hard, is not merely redness and roundness and hardness ; these circum-
stances may all alter while the apple remains the same apple. Behind or under these
appearances which we see, we conceive something of which we think ; or, to use the
metaphor which obtained currency among the ancient philosophers, the attributes and qualities which we
observe are supported by and inherent in something ; and this something is called a substratum or substance
— that which stands beneath the apparent qualities and supports them." Hist. Scient. Ideas, vol. ii. p. 30.
The terms ' conceive ' and ' thirile ' are used by "Whewell in a technical way, as equivalent to imposing upon
the phenomena the " conceptions of the understanding" and " the forms of thought" in the Kantian sense,
so that, in the meaning of that philosopher, the substance is a noumenon as distinguished from a phenome-
non. But when he speaks of substances as behind or under these appearances, he adopts the views of Locke
and Reid, although in the remainder of this very sentence he recognizes such a use of substance or sub-
stratum as a "metaphor."
§ 644. In order to avoid the confusion and embarrassment
abstract; how into which philosophers have so generally fallen from con-
defined. ,r r .. ° J , .„
founding abstract and real or concrete substance, we will
consider the two apart and somewhat more particularly than we have done
already.
I. Substance in the abstract.
The concept substance is less general than that of simple being. Being
has already been explained to be correlate to and coextensive with knowl-
edge, inasmuch as it is applicable to every object that is, or that is con«
§ 644. SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE I MIND AND MATTEE. 623
ceived to be knowable or known. But every thing that is known is not
only known to be, but is also known as related. Hence, with every act
of knowledge, the concept of being as related, at once arises and becomes
universally applicable to every object that is known. Certain of these
relations may be used to distinguish, define and explain these knowable
objects. The concept of being with relations so discerned and applied is
the abstract concept of substance. It is not like the concept being, a sim-
ple concept, but it is complex, and made up of the two elements being and
related. It is more even than this. It is being distinguishable as a perma-
nent sort or class by a complex of relations.
II. Of attribute in tJie abstract.
§ 645. The conception of attribute arises in a similar way. As
fSact defined! soon as an object is discerned in a definite relation to another
object, this relation can be affirmed of or attributed to this
object. When one or more attributes can be applied to define or distin-
guish, any one of these gives the generic conception of attribute, as
used in this technical sense. Every relation by which an object is known
or distinguished is an attribute in the largest and most abstract sense of
the word.
Whenever we think of a being as possibly, but not actually related or distinguished by its
relations, we think of it as a substance without attributes. In the same manner, when we think
of a real or possible relation, we may think of an attribute as such, without a substance.
Now, there are as many kinds of attributes supposable as there are distinguishable kinds of
relations. There are attributes of time and space with all the relations which these involve
and render possible. There are attributes of causality and design. There are also as many
kinds of substances as there are beings distinguishable in kind by combinations of relations.
An individual substance is known only by the individual relations which it shares with no other.
The substance is not, however, made up or constituted, by its relations. It is known in fact as
a being holding relations. It is known in thought, by its relations or attributes. From this
analysis it is manifest that the category of substance and attribute is not simple and original
like the other categories which we have considered, but is complex and derived. Any
one of these relations, when employed for the ends of recognition or description, for defini-
tion or classification, for reasoning or explanation; in short, for knowledge of any sort,
whether common or scientific, becomes an attribute. Any thing that is, when it is sufficiently
permanent or oft-recurring to require to be known by attributes, is a substance.
This analysis also explains the affinity between real substance and the logical and gram-
matical subjects. All these are conceived to be objects of knowledge in some relation to
one another, and hence are all conceived to be capable of attributes. The logical and gram-
matical subjects are for the moment conceived and treated as real beings in real relations.
The meaning or import of these concepts can only be explained and imaged by concrete
or individual instances. As being is interpretable by any object known, and is explained
to the mind by any act of knowing, so substance and attribute are explained by any com-
pleted act of knowledge which apprehends or distinguishes any object by its relations. When
the mind generalizes the object as thus apprehended by the mind, it knows what the concepts,
substance and attribute signify in their most general imports. This may suffice for these
concepts in the abstract.
624 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §645.
We will next consider them in the concrete, and inquire
Substance and . ,....„,
attribute in the whether this analysis is justified when it is applied to really
existing agents and things. We take the abstract con-
cepts already explained and defined — of substance as something knowable
by its relations, and of attribute as one or more of these relations, — and
proceed to apply them to the different kinds of actual substances and
attributes. Or rather, by considering the concrete, we propose to test the
correctness of x>ur definitions of substance and attribute in the abstract.
We hope also in this way to clear up the difficulties and confusion which
have been encountered in the various applications and interpretations of
these terms. This examination will involve an inquiry as to the different
senses in which these concepts are used and understood, and the terms
which correspond to them, according to the subject-matter to which they
are applied.
There are three classes of objects-matter to which the category is most
frequently applied, spiritual substances, corporeal substances, and mathemat-
ical entities. Abstract ideas, or abstracta, follow the analogy of real beings,
and so do grammatical subjects, as has already been explained. Mathe-
matical entities do the same so far as this relation is concerned, as we
have also explained at length. We shall consider the two first only, and
begin with
III. Mental or Spiritual substance.
spiritual or §646. Here we encounter, at the outset, the objection ot
Sance^miscon- difficulty that a mental or spiritual being cannot be a sub-
ceived- stance at all. This difficulty is merely verbal. It is of purely
casual association, and arises simply from the fact that the term is usually
applied in a specific sense as implying material existence, and not in one
more generic as equally appropriate to beings which are spiritual. Dis-
missing this objection as merely verbal and superficial, we proceed to in-
quire in what sense a spirit is a substance with attributes. It will be more
satisfactory, also, if we consider, not spiritual substance in the largest ac-
ceptance of the term, but in the form which it assumes as the human soul.
With this we are familiar by our previous analysis, and are now prepared
advantageously to ask and to answer what this analysis has taught us in
respect to its attributes and its substance.
To know, feel, The prominent attributes of the substance which we call the
crusade1' enTr^ human soul, are its capacities to know, to feel, and to will.
&es- It is usually distinguished and defined by these. But to
know, to feel, to will, are operations or modes of activity and suffering.
They are energies which are simply causative of certain effects, or which
involve energies that are causative. These three attributes obviously fall
under the category or relation of causation, and are simply special ex-
amples of its occurrence.
§ 64V. SUBSTANCE AND ATTE1BUTE : MIND AKD MATTEK. 625
What it is to know, to feel, and to will, we can only know by the conscious exercise or
experience of these operations. The products of these operations are beings in the philoso*
phieal meaning of the word, and in respect to them we affirm a cause which is that substanca
which we call the soul.
But we know more of the substance of the soul than that it is the cause or
These referred recipient of those effects which we call its states. It is involved in conscious*
to the ego as , , ,
cause. ness that the soul knows these acts and states to be its own ; i, e., to be caused
or suffered by the individual ego, or self. What is known is the agent causing
and suffering, as well as the effects. The soul under certain conditions and limitations is known
itself to act and suffer. But the relations of the soul thus known do not take it out of the
category of causation, but rather require more imperatively that this attribute should be refer-
red to this very class. So true and striking is this that many have contended that the con-
scious energy of the soul in knowing and in willing (in one or both) originates the conception
and explains the belief of causation.
The power of. the soul to be conscious, or consciously to know, is also a capacity for causal
efficiency, and when attributed to the soul is attributed simply as one of its causal relations,
known as the others by its exercise and its results.
These states or products of the soul's causal activity, are transient and changing, but the
ego h permanent and enduring. As the cause or recipient of these changes the soul is iden-
tical with itself. They are diverse, the soul is one. The attributes require only the catego-
ries of the soul which consciousness reveals of identity, diversity and time.
§ 647. Besides the attributes of the soul which are revealed
Unconscious . . . - . ■- . :_
psychical powers m consciousness, it is capable of acts or processes of which
are causative. .. . -i /■» t t ai-i-i • • i
it is conscious only 01 the results. All those spiritual capaci-
ties which fit it to act in conjunction with the body in preparing or
presenting to itself the objects of sense-perception are known only as
effects of the joint action- of spiritual and corporeal causes. They are
therefore only a peculiar species of causative attributes.
The similar capacities of the soul to represent any object of previous
experience whether subjective or objective, whether intellectual, emotional
or voluntary, are causative attributes which are definitely and distinguish-
ably known by their effects. Its presumed capacities to exist in other
conditions of being, with or without a body and environed by another
sphere, come under the same category.
Of all these causative energies the conditions are in part furnished by the soul itself; as
when memory, imagination, and thought act on the materials furnished for it by the previous
action of the soul in acquisitive and intuitive knowledge. In respect to these conditions,
the soul is dependent upon its own nature, for it is a being as well as a causative agent. For
other conditions of its causative energies, it is dependent on the material world. Each of
these classes of causal activities are exercised according to their appropriate laws.
, § 648. Besides the relations of causation there are relations
Attributes of " m a
design in the oi design which pertain- to the soul. Ihese are conspicuous
both in the relations of one power and act of the soul to
another, and also in the relations of the soul to the external world and
the body which connects it with that world. All of these relations are
attributes of the soul, and some are so necessary to an adequate concep-
40
626
THE HUMAN INTELLECT.
648.
tion of its nature as to deserve to be counted among its essential attri-
butes. This suggests the distinction between these attributes as essential
and non-essential. The essential attributes are peculiar in this, that
they are necessary to the very conception of the soul as such, and so
far are logically essential. They are also found actually present in a
class of individual beings, which exist under the permanent laws or
order of the universe, and are essential to the operation of its laws and
the designs of its being. Other attributes are called properties not because
they are less universal or necessary under the fixed constitution of things,
nor because they are less inevitable and essential as causes to account for
phenomena, but only because they are not required for the ends of logical
knowledge to define and distinguish the soul from other kinds of
being.
As has already been said, when attributes are spoken of especially as belonging to a
substance, it is the essential attributes which are intended; those which constitute and
define a class or species and which are present in permanently existing individuals, as in the
inorganic world, or are perpetually reproduced, as in the world of life.
Besides these attributes which are common to all souls, and which are essen-
Individual attri- tial to the logical conception of all, there are attributes or relations of each
butesofthesoul. 1^^^^ gQ^ which are known andknowable by each individual to and
of himself. Each individual ego is the subject and agent of his own acts and
states. Those which are his own, he knows by intuition, as well as the ego which acts and
supposes them. This ego is most conspicuously manifested in the will. Its interests and
character constitute the ends and aims of individual activity.
The inquirer for spiritual substance would say, perhaps, here is the substance
How far the ego 0f the soul. Perhaps in this permanent ego as related to its diverse and
the type of all , -, , , , ,..-,,
substance. changing acts and products may be detected the real spiritual substance
which is the origin and type of the various corporeal substances, which we
invest with their appropriate attributes. On looking more closely, he finds that this ego is a
being, though it is directly known in a way quite unique and peculiar. To know the ego
is a being, is not to know it is a substance. That a substance must be a being all concede, but
in order that it may be known also as a substance, it must be known in certain relations, and
it is by its capacity to exist and be known in these relations that it is known also as a sub-
stance. Those relations of the individual ego which are commonly recognized and by which
it is distinguished and defined, are its capacities to do and to suffer, to know and attain its
end or destiny. These are the attributes of this peculiar being, which as distinguished and
defined by these is called spiritual substance. These attributes are all found in the Categories
of Causation and Design. When to these we add its relations of Identity and Time we com-
plete the cycle of its attributes. From this Induction we derive the following definition.
Humans irituai § ®^' That Substance which ice call the human soicl, is an
substance de- identical enduring self, capable of spiritual acts and states in
'the succession of time, and adapted to certain ends for itself
and the universe of being. The relation of substance and attribute asserted
in this definition is that of a being on the one hand, of which on the other
a variety of relations is affirmed, as of time, identity, causation and design.
§650. SUBSTANCE AND ATTKIBUTE : MIND AND MATTEE. 625
Of these relations, those which are especially prominent are the causative.
Certain causa- These are its so-called Faculties, which are capacities for special and distin
ai^ts^aculUe6"8 guisnable modes of causal activity. By these attributes it is adequatel}
distinguished from other kinds of being. Even the human soul is effectually
distinguished by these faculties from the other species of spiritual being. When the soul is
thought or spoken of as a substance, it should be thought of as endowed with causal attributes,
and by these can all spiritual substance be best defined. If the attempt is made to meas-
ure the soul by the body, or to affirm of it relations or endowments which are like the
corporeal, the mind either supplies the little that it knows by some gross or refined theory
of materialism or falls into vague or fantastic imagery. This explains why the impression is
tenaciously held that substance — i. e. definable being — must necessarily be hard and material,
even when it is applied to spirit. But this impression, as we have seen, is not well founded.
Mr. J. Stuart Mill., in his Examination of Sir William Hamilton'' s Philosophy, chap. xu\,
Mr "Mill's con- ^as Siven a laborious explanation of our conception of the mind or soul, upon the prin-
ception of the ciple of what he calls 'the Psychological Theory,'— which in reality signifies the Asso-
Soul. ciational Psychology. He first resolves our belief that " the mind exists " into "the
belief of a permanent possibility of its states." He then asserts that our belief in its
existence when it is inactive, contains nothing more than " that my capability of feeling is not, in that in-
terval, permanently destroyed." He then adds that the mind is defined " as nothing but the series of our
sensations as they " actually " occur with the addition of infinite possibilities for their actual realization."
Again, " the mind is but a series of feelings, or, as it has been called, a thread of consciousness, however
supplemented by believed possibilities of consciousness." Again, he speaks of " the theory which resolves
mind into a series of feelings, with a background of possibilities of feelings." Again, " if we speak of the
mind as a series of feelings, we are obliged to complete the statement by calling it a series of feelings which
is aioare of itself as past and future ; and we are reduced to the alternative of believing that the mind or
Ego is something different from any series of feelings or possibilities of them, or of accepting the paradox
that something which, ex hypothesi, is but a series of feelings, can be aware of itself as a series. The
truth is that we are here face to face with that final inexplicability at which, as Sir "William Hamilton ob-
serves, we inevitably arrive when we reach ultimate facts," etc.
One scarcely knows which most to admire in these statements, the clearness of the perception of tho*
difficulty which embarrasses the authors own theory, or the failure to observe that the difficulty originates
Eolely ex hypothesi Milliana. The question is simply, what are the ultimate facts which are finally in-
explicable ? Do they or do they not involve the recognition of the self-conscious ego, identical, existing in
time, as Mill denies ; or " of a series of feelings aware of itself as past and future 1 " Is the conception
cf the soul truly expressed when it is resolved into " permanent possibilities of sensation ; " <Jr by the asser-
tion to it of Faculties, under the category of causation believed to be universal and necessary? Is "the
tiackground of possibilities of feeling" and " of infinite possibilities for their actual realization" a happy
Bubstitute for the assumption of design as necessary in order to explain our belief in the continued exist-
ence of an agent, even though it is not consciously active ; and in its permanent adaptation to the forces
of the universe which are the conditions of its existence and its activity 1
IV. Material substance.
§ 650. Every material substance is, like spiritual substance, a
ScedefineSd.b" being discerned or discernible by intuitive or direct knowl-
edge and also definable by a sufficient variety and number
of relations to distinguish it from other beings. These relations are dis-
cerned by thought, and exist between itself and other substances, material
and spiritual. A material substance may be defined, a being occupying defi-
nite limits in space, and productive of specific sensations in the sentient soul
on occasion of which it is perceived or known to exist.
First of all, it is related to space in trinal extension. It
its trinai exten- might be urged that, in one sense, the spectrum cast by
the camera on a screen, or the rainbow flung athwart a
cloud are material substances, with only superficial or binal extension ; but
628
THE HUMAN INTELLECT.
§650.
material substance, in the ordinary sense, has threefold extension, or, as
we say, extension in three dimensions. These, arranged in some form,
are, as has been sufficiently explained, its indicia and evidences as far as
they go, and essential to its very notion.
Corporeal substance has a second relation to space, viz., that
impenetrability, of space-occupying or space-filling. This is often called the
solidity or impenetrability of matter, but should be carefully
distinguished from that power of matter to awaken the sensation of hard-
ness, which is also called solidity. The first is a relation to space which is
tested and expressed by the application of motion. The second is the ca-
pacity of the body to excite a specific sensation upon the pressure of touch.
These relations of corporeal substance to space are all represented or
generalized by means of motion or the movableness of body in three
directions, as has already been explained, § 577.
The third class of relations which belong to corporeal sub-
sSieSeuariitiesen stance are its powers variously to affect, through the senses,
the body as animated and ensouled, and also the soul itself
as a sentient agent. Every material substance has power to produce
certain so-called impressions on the so-called organs of sensation, i.e. upon
the body as organized to receive these impressions. Of these effects the
vibration of the tympanum, and the formation of the image on the retina,
are sufficient examples. These may occur without sensation, as is mani-
fest in cases of disease, of mental excitement, and of the use of anaesthetic
agents. But the condition of these effects even, is a vitalized or living
body. Consequent upon these are those effects upon the sensitive or sen-
tient soul which are called sensations, or sensations proper. The condi-
tion of the last is a body living and ensouled. In sensation, or rather, in
the sense-element of the complex act called sense-perception, the soul is
purely receptive or passive and the material substance is active: that is, it
is causative of the various distinguishable effects which are known by ex-
perience. Its various powers to produce these sensations are all compre-
hended under the category or relation of causation.
Can matter
cause percep-
tions as distin-
guished from
sensations ?
Into this category of causative forces others bring the power claimed for matter to
produce perceptions in the soul. According to their theory, every act or state of per-
ception of material objects is an effect which is wrought upon the soul by the efficient
causation of material substance, or -which, at the utmost, is the effect of the joint action
of the two factors or co-efficient agents, viz., causative matter and causative mind. The
first is the view of John Stuart Mill : *« A body, according to the received doctrine of modern metaphysi-
cians, may be defined, the external cause to which we ascribe our sensations. When I see and touch a
piece of gold, I am conscious of a sensation of a yellow color, and sensations of hardness and weight, and
by varying the mode of handling, I may add to these sensations many others completely distinct from
them. The sensations are all of which I am directly conscious ; but I consider them as produced by some-
thing not only existing independently of my will but external to my bodily organs and to my mind. This
external something I call a Body." Logic, I. c. 3, § 7.
" Matter, then, may be defined a Permanent Possibility of Sensation. I affirm with confidence, that
this conception of matter includes the whole meaning attached to it by the common world, apart front
philosophical and sometimes from theological theories." Exam, of Hamilton's Phil, c. xi.
Similar to this is the view of Dr. Thomas Brown. Lectures, 20-25.
§652. SUBSTANCE AND ATTEIBUTE : MIND AND MATTEE. 621?
The second view is held by Kant and in part countenanced "by Hamilton, and regards knowledge as
the joint product of two causative agents, viz., body with its agencies upon sense giving the matter, and
the mind with its constitution furnishing the forms of knowledge. This view, unlike the first, does not sink
the mind into a mere recipient of the impressions caused by the body, but it makes the mind itself a joint
cause of the effect ; holding the activity of the mind in knowing, to be coordinate with and similar to the
causal activity of matter upon the senses. Kant carries this mistake to its worst possible extreme by
suggesting that the constitution of the mind as a co-factor to the effect might also be changeable, and
with it the nature of knowledge itself. Hamilton holds back from this conclusion, but seems often in
part to sanction it when he insists that all knowledge is relative to our faculties and that many funda-
mental relations are only necessary from tbe impotence of our powers, i. e., necessary to us only as we
are human, and relatively to this human constitution.
§ 651. It is serious error to class among the attributes of
t^be^to^SE matter the capacity to be perceived or known. The possi-
bility of being perceived is in itself no attribute of matter
in the sense of causative power. To perceive is an act of the mind.
The causative energy and the capacity which fits for it, both pertain to
this mind alone. The matter, so far as perceived, acts neither upon the
body nor the soul. The matter is, i e., exists, and is known to be. ISTor
is it correct to say, that it is known only as the cause of the sensations
which the soul suffers or receives ; making it to be known only as the
unknown cause of a felt effect. We should rather say, it is known to be
and known as causing these sensations, i. e., is known to be and to be caus-
ally related, cf. § 49.
In that complex state which we call sense-perception, in which the activity of the soul as
knowing is blended with the passivity of the soul as sentient, we cannot indeed separate the
object which is known from the state which is suffered, but that the two are diverse we know,
and that objective reality belongs to the one and subjective transitoriness to the other, we are
also certain. Space is a reality, and so are the spatial relations of the object known. The
apprehension of being is conditioned by the presence of matter acting on the sensorium and
the sentient mind. But neither the mind's state of knowing nor the object as known are the
product of the causative powers of matter acting alone or in conjunction with other causative
powers of the mind. To know is an act, and is simply to be certain that its object is, even
though that object also is known to be acting on the agent which perceives or knows.
Besides the relations of material substances to the animated and ensouled body, there is a
class of relations which it holds to other bodies. These are its powers to produce effects in
or upon them. They comprehend all the properties of matter whatever, whether mechanical,
chemical, or organic, which have as yet been discovered, or which science may in future unfold.
That all these attributes are comprehended under the causal relation is too obvious to need
illustration or proof.
8 652. Many of these are called not the attributes of matter.
The so-called -f . , . „
properties of but simply its properties, for the reason that they are not
required to define and distinguish it from other kinds of
being. They are not involved in the essence of the notion matter. They
are not revealed by the analysis of this notion, but are either superinduced
upon its content by the processes of induction and observation, or are
perhaps deduced from its original and essential constituents, or from what
these constituents involve in the way of necessary inference when coupled
with the enlarged knowledge repecting them which induction gives.
630
THE HUMAN INTELLECT.
§653.
The relations considered thus far are those of space and causation.
The analysis has established our definition of material substance to be
correct, viz., that it is a being having a definite form or outline, (involv-
ing relations to space or other bodies existing in space,) occupying exclu-
sively some portion of space, (involving space-relations,) and productive
of specific sensations in the sentient soul on occasion of which it is known
to be, {involving relations of causation).
These attributes ^ *s furtner to De observed that this complex or collection of relations does
distinguish and not constitute material substance. The so-called "collection of attributes"
aot constitute which Locke, and Hume, and Brown, and J. Mill speak of, do not by their
matter. union or unition make matter to become, substance; they simply indicate that
it is a material substance. They are relations which define and distinguish it as such. They
constitute its logical essence only. They make up the content of the complex notion called
material substance. They constitute the concept which we affirm of all matter, but they do
not constitute material substance itself. Even simple notions, as raZ and white, suppose the
reality to be known which they generalize, and can only be interpreted by that real knowledge
of their import which is obtained by sense-perception. The union of these constituents into
a complex notion does not dispense with a similar reference to real knowledge. The same is
true of the element being which is implied in such definition. Being, like every other simple
notion, cannot be defined ; but it does not follow, as we have already seen, § 544, that it can-
not be known and understood. To know and explain it, we need only refer to what we do
and gain in every act of direct or real knowledge. By a reference to this experience, we ex-
plain the meaning of the notion, and of the word.
§ 653. A material substance has been defined as exclusively
tion°by mSter!" occupying a portion of space. It is not required that this
portion of space should be of any definite size or dimensions.
A grain of sand is a material substance, so is a huge mass of sand-stone.
So is a mass of water or the indefinitely expanded atmosphere. All that is
required is, that the mass, be it greater or smaller, should be so fixed and
held together in its parts as to occupy continuously their defined limits.
The continuity of parts is of more importance than the continuity of de-
finite outline. This continuity or coherence of parts is maintained in
different substances by different agencies. The constituent parts may be
held together by simple mechanical aggregation under the force of cohe-
sive attraction. They may be held more closely by the polar force of
crystalline arrangement. They may be united still more intimately under
the laws of chemical affinity. They may be combined and assimilated
into the forms and products of organic existence ; or the substance may
be conceived as an ultimate molecule, or monadical cell. Every being,
that is one and continuous, of whatever size, in whatever form, or held by
whatever bond of union, is a material substance.
A certain continuity in time or permanence is also required as a defining
Permanence of characteristic of substance, or is implied in its definition. This integrity of
Bpace-occupa- the whole is presumed as having continued and as likely to continue for
some considerable period, or the being indicated would scarcely be called a
t>
§654. SUBSTANCE AND ATTEIBUTE : HIND AND MATTER. 63]
substance. It certainly would not be worth noticing by defining attributes if it did not s&
remain. There are certain chemical substances that only remain solid under extreme cold
and pressure. Of these perhaps the most conspicuous is carbonic acid gas, which when
made solid has definite and peculiar attributes. Were it not that it can be constantly produced
from materials and by processes within the reach of every chemist, it would not be known or
named at all. What this so-called substance is to its constituent elements and laws, every
organic being is to the agencies that sustain it in its continued existence and functions
Whether it be the ephemeris that exists for an hour or the elephant that survives a century,
the animal structure is sustained by food and air, etc. When these decay or the capacity to
appropriate them fails, the elements take another form as truly as do those of the solidified
carbonic acid, or of the fitful globule of potassium. So is it with the tiny plant of a week,
with the cedars of Lebanon, and the yew that counts its age by centuries. They exist by the
conspiring and sustaining force of the whole of the globe which gives a standing place and
food, of the surrounding atmosphere which furnishes moisture and gaseous pabulum, and the
eun which directly imparts its stimulating light and heat, and indirectly controls the rain and
the dew.
§ 654. The relative permanence of material substance ex-
identity of ma- plains the possibility of its identity. Identity in such a sub-
tenal substance. r . .
stance may pertain to the constituent elements only, or to
the form only, or to the uniting force, or it may be applied to the connec-
tion of one part with another in a series of changes which involve a total
alteration of both constituents and form. Thus if the same particles
remain united in the same form by mechanical aggregation, the substance
is eminently the same; the only diversity in such a case being that of
relation to the person affirming it — a diversity of time or place or both.
Should the constituents remain the same and the form be changed,
it would be called the same, because the constituents are viewed as
more important than the form. If the external form is changed by
growth or development, as in plants or animals, the force that unites
the parts is regarded as making them a substance. If the parts of a
knife or a ship are displaced and replaced by successive removals and
substitutions while the form and functions are retained, the substance is
still called the same by a loose analogy taken from living agents and their
gradual accretion and growth.
Still further : the material substance thus defined is onlv the general notion
An individual , , . . . „ , , .,..,*., _
material sub- of substance, which is equally applicable to every individual substance. Cut
fined! °Wde can we n°t define an individual substance? The nearest approach to such
a definition is by means of the relations of both time and space conjoined.
An individual material substance is a being occupying exclusively a portion of space at a given
portion of time. Either of these relations alone, as is obvious, is general and applicable to any
material substance, but both together can only be affirmed of a single one. These two give
the principle or definition of individuation so far as it can be accomplished by general or
common relations. The adjective this indicates the same, for the service of language; hence
the speculations of the schoolmen respecting the hcecceitas of any existing thing; which they
sought to treat as a generalized attribute. The relations to the ego of the mental acts and
states of which the individual is directly conscious, in a similar sense individualize the con-
ception of mental substance, evidencing its reality and explaining its meaning.
832 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §656:
8 655. "We have seen that a change in form and structure or
Tne production ,. . . °
of new sub- both, involves the production of a new substance, because it
involves the production of relations which clearly distinguish
such a substance. A living being, as an animal, consists in part of cer-
tain material particles or elements. If a succession of changes or de-
compositions and recompositions could go on before our eyes, so that we
could trace the same particles back through every form in which they can
possibly exist, through plant, mineral, earth, air, water, and in every pos-
sible form of chemical and crystalline combination, till we had reached the
ultimate molecules, or elements of all and of each, we should evolve a
series of substances, one after another, in a consecutive order of gradation.
But the simplest elements, the ultimate particles, would still be substances
Ultimate parti- with attributes with which they must still exist, and from which they could
cles or elements. neve.r jn fact be parted# Those who seek an interior substance, constituting
the nucleus or core of the outer, are misled by a secondary use of the word.
If a momentary form of being is resolved into its more permanent constituents, these often are
called its substance, and so in general those forces and laws which are relatively permanent
are called hy eminence substantial and real. These are ordinarily solid, compact, and tangible,
in contrast with the loosely-cohesive, the diffused, and impalpable. For this reason the former
are counted substantial. The more fixed and permanent are usually more obvious to the
grosser senses, especially the sense of touch, which for so many reasons is the leading sense.
The case of solidified carbonic acid is an exception to this rule, and it shows that such an ap-
plication of the word substance is accidental only, and not solidly grounded.
In assuming or seeking for such, a substance philosophers have lost sight of the philo-
The real Essence sophical conception of substance and have substituted in its place one that is narrower
the Th ^ °r and purely accidental. When Locke, for example, speaks of the real essence as " that
itself. ' real constitution of any thing, which is the foundation of those properties that are
combined in, and are constantly found to co-exist -with the nominal essence ; that par-
ticular constitution, which every thing has within itself, without any relation to any thing without,"
the real essence here supposed, if it is a constitution of any thing on which its properties depend, must be
either itself one or more material force or agent, or its properties or laws— i. e., it must be itself matter or
the relations of matter. If it is matter, it is still substance with attributes. If it is a relation of matter, it
is an attribute requiring a substance of which it may be affirmed. On either supposition this real constitu-
tion of a thing on which its properties depend, leaves us as far as ever from attaining to an interior sub-
stance by itself. Whether or not Locke would have allowed that he intended by his " real essence " what
he elsewhere calls " substance," it is evident that all who conceive a substance to "underlie" the attri-
butes, and who make efforts to " unearth " it, can have no other conception of it, than some "fixed consti-
tution" on which these attributes depend. The " underlying substance" of the schools, the " thing in it-
self " of Kant, are mere names, which signify either being in the abstract or being in the concrete. If it is
being in the abstract, then it must be synonymous with matter as knowable, i. e., it is a concept only which
can be separate from its relations in thought but never in fact. If it is being in the concrete, then this
must be known with its relations and never apart f ora them. In either case the substance or thing in
-itself, cannot be known by itself.
a material sub- §656. It is not essential to a material substance that it be
SySSepenl- independent or self-subsistent. This was insisted on by
ent- Spinoza, who defines substance to be " that which exists and
is conceived by itself." " Per siibstantiam intelligo id quod in se est et
per se concipitur ; hoc est id citjus conceptusnon indiget conceptu alterius
rei a quo formari debeaV JEthices, p. i. def. 3.
From this definition the inference was direct and irresistible, that nc
§657. SUBSTANCE AND ATTKIBUTE : MIND AND MATTER. 63S
finite substance is possible, because every so-called finite material substance
is produced or sustained by other material beings, and is dependent on
them ; or, on the other hand, there is but one such substance, and that is the
total of all which exist — the universe ; this totality being conceived as
absolute and independent. Locke falls into a similar manner of speaking in
the sentence just quoted, when he speaks of the constitution " which every
thing has within itself without any relation to any thing without." Simi-
lar to this is the doctrine of Whewell, that substance is indestructible.
" The supposition of the existence of substance is so far from being uncer-
tain, that it carries with it irresistible conviction, and substance is neces-
sarily conceived as something which cannot be produced or destroyed."
JStst. of Sclent. Ideas, vol. ii. p. 32.
Our analysis has shown that a material substance is so far from being independent of other
beings and forces, that, properly speaking, no material substance is in any sense independent,
or can be conceived to be so. Every material substance is what it is by the productive or sus-
taining force of all other beings and forces in the universe. It is also conceived and defined
to be what it is by its relations to these forces, expressedly and impliedly. It cannot exist and
cannot be defined except by these relations to other beings and agencies. The solidified car-
bonic acid is no more truly dependent for its being on the pressure and cold that hold fast its
constituents, than the oak that for centuries has thrust its roots into the crevices of the
eternal rock, or than the rock itself or the solid substance of the earth, are dependent upon
the agencies that hold them in place, and conditionate the functions of each. Modern science
has impressed this lesson upon all its devotees, that the one lives in and depends upon the all,
and that the all makes itself felt in the one also : that nothing in the universe is independent
and nothing inconsiderable, that the forces and laws which move and sway the whole; produce,
sustain, develop, and destroy every individual.
If material substance is dependent, it is not necessarily indestructible. If the
Not indestructi- forces which sustain it are withdrawn, or their action is changed, it ceases to
ble- be, or ceases to be the same substance that it was. It may be an induction
which is well grounded in observation, that the ultimate material particles or
molecules will not be destroyed ; but to call these the only material substances is to use the
word in a narrow and special sense. Our belief in the indestructibility of these ultimate parti-
cles is not an axiom, but is founded on other assumptions, coupled with extended observation
of facts and wide-reaching analogies.
our belief in its § 65^ ^nd yet we do assume, that material substances are
mounded fnde- permanent, — not the ultimate particles alone, but even the
Bisn- continuous forms in which they exist and perpetually reap-
pear. If we did not assume this, we should not define the constituents of
either, we should not form them into concepts, or apply these concepts for
the ends of knowledge. What is the nature and what are the grounds of
this assumption ? In its nature it is none other than that the agencies and
laws which sustain and produce them will remain, at least till they have
accomplished the ends for which they exist. In other words, it is only
. by relations of orderly design that we can explain or vindicate that belief
in the permanence of the material structure as to its forms of being and
their constituents which is received as an axiom in all physical or inductive
634
THE HUMAN INTELLECT.
§658.
philosophy. That this permanence or indestructibility is not essential or
necessary, that it cannot be viewed as of itself an axiom, appears from
the broader anc3 deeper axioms into which it may be resolved, and on
which it rests.
When on the one nand, we etiow that all things which seem most solid and permanent in
matter, are the constant products of the elements and forces which bring and hold them together,
we seem to dissipate all substance into moving and struggling particles, and to resolve the uni-
verse itself into a flux of changing forces : Substance is dissipated into shadow, and the solid
earth with all its forms of being and of life, is liable to be disintegrated into chaos. But
when, on the other hand, we assume design to control and fix these forces and laws, we pro*
vide for permanence in the products of these forces, for fixedness in material substance, and in
the mind which interprets material being.
There are philosophers who deny that there are permanent
seem "o s deny forms or elements of material substance. Such believe that
nothing is fixed, either in substance or attributes; that
every thing in the universe is in a perpetual flux, that the law of develop-
ment controls all existence, so that one form and species of being is
evolved from another — the more complex from the more simple — in endless
progression. ' There is no permanence in the species or forms of organio
matter, or among living beings, but the tendency to development creates!
new forms, and these again others still more complex by endless change
and progress. The permanence which we'think we observe, and which
we recognize in language, is only relative. Compared with the endless
evolutions of ages, it is brief and transitional.'
The grounds alleged for this dogma, are the varieties actually observed within the species
and forms of being usually considered as permanent and fixed, and the extension of the law
supposed to be thus indicated to a wider range of supposed deviations, and the application of
it on a scale measured by the lapse of enormous periods of time. One relation of permanence
in nature must, however, be assumed by all these philosophers, and that is, the permanence of
this law or principle of development itself If it be assumed from the limited facts and obser-
vations adduced, that this law of development has prevailed in all the ages, and evolved one
form of being after another, by a steady progress and in regular order ; then the permanence of
the law of development itself must be referred to a fixed purpose and design of nature. If it
is accepted as the product of induction, induction itself, with its underlying axioms and rules
of practice rests upon assumed design. The law of development cannot, therefore, drive the
fact of design out of the universe, nor dispense with the assumption of design as one of
the axioms of science.
V. The mutual relations of material and spiritual substance next claim
our attention.
The reciprocal § 65 8. This is a subject of special difficulty and importance.
fertaiTndfpStl Many of the attributes of both mind and matter can only be
urn substance. explained and understood by means of one another. The
one can be defined and known only by the other. To understand and
describe the one we must make use of the other. But the two are in some
§659. SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE : MIND AND MATTER. 03£
important respects very unlike. In bringing mind and matter under the
categories of substance and attribute, we are constantly impelled to mak&
prominent the features which are common to both. And yet it is here
most essential that we notice the points in which they are especially unlike.
In order to do this with success, we must first consider the difference be-
tween the direct and reflex knowledge of both matter and spirit, to which
the mind is competent.
. , , The mind knows both matter and mind by direct and reflex
Mind and mat- * .
ter directly knowledge. By direct knowledge m sense-perception, it
knows matter as a being, i. e. the object of its knowing. By
direct knowledge in consciousness, it knows itself as the agent which
knows matter, and is also the subject of certain sensations. It knows
both these objects in certain relations. It knows matter not only to exist,
but to be diverse from itself the knower, and to be extended : it knows
itself to exist, and enduringly to feel and act. The relations involved in
this direct knowledge of matter and mind are common and diverse, and
are possible by their respective relations to space and time.
Relations of causation and design may also be affirmed of both matter
and mind, while each is the object of the mind's direct cognition. Thus
one material object may be viewed as the cause of a change in another,
and even of the existence of another material object. Thus the mind
itself, as objective to its own consciousness, may be viewed as the cause
of its own spiritual states, or of any effects that are known or seem to be
within the reach of spiritual activity, whether these involve efficiency or
design.
The attributes of matter and mind, which are known by this direct knowl-
Beflex knowl- , .. ,-,•,•■, , t» , . , ,
edgeofboth. edge, are easily analyzed and understood. But when mind and matter are
difficult.^' bUt ky reflex knowledge viewed in their mutual relations ; when their capacities
to hold relations to one another or to act upon one another are considered)
then the analysis becomes difficult, and the clear expression in language of the distinctions
observed, is embarrassing. The two objects compared must be placed side by side before the
comparing mind, by an act of indirect or reflex knowledge. In order to this, the mind, or
rather the soul which is compared with matter, must be ideally separated from the intellect that
compares the two. The acts and powers of the soul must be considered as sentient and per-
cipient. We have seen that the most important of the attributes involved are those of causa-
tion, and that the attributes of matter and of mind which are to be determined, are their capaci-
ties to produce effects upon one another. But what kind of effects ? Effects of sensation
only, or of perception also ? We reply, effects of sensation only ; for perception is no effect
of matter upon the mind or soul (§ 651). In this product the mind only is active. But
matter, when it is compared with the mind, is apprehended as the cause of certain sensations,
and its capacities to produce these sensations, define its attributes or qualities. But in order
to be known with attributes, it must have been known, by direct knowledge, as a being.
Matter imown § 659« ^n other words, in sense-perception, the intellect
to bbtnknowndas must know something more than effects, viz., specific
cause. sensations, as of touch, sight, etc., for which it assumes an
636 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §660.
unknown cause, viz., the producer of these felt effects, and invests with
attributes accordingly ; for in this same sense-perception it knows matter
as being as well as certain effects or sensations in itself. This is its pre-
rogative as an agent competent to know. It not only knows itself and those
acts and objects, that are purely spiritual, but it knows material objects
also. If it did not know them directly as beings, it could not know them
as extended or as diverse from itself, or as causal agents.
The process of inferring them as unknown causes of known effects, or as ' possibilities of
sensation,' is too awkward to be received, and is beyond the capacities of the infant mind.
They must be known by direct knowledge as beings producing sensations if the mind,
when it compares the one agent with the other in indirect or reflex knowledge and applies
to both the category of causation, is to be assured that there are two beings whose causative
attributes it may determine. In sense-perception, the mind apprehends matter or material
being. In touch, whether viewed as a special sense or as present in all the remaining senses,
the mind does more than experience hardness which is intensified into a painful sensation by
pressure ; it does more than experience the muscular sensations which attend the use of the
locomotive or muscular power ; it knows matter as being, just as truly as it knows the ego as
These beings cannot be defined as beings, because we define by relations only.
Being, spiritual We speak of beingness or entity as a relation, only by a forced use of thought
not be defined. " an^ speech. When we define these beings — the ego and the matter, the
spiritual and material substance — we use only their common and several rela-
tions ; we recognize their attributes, whether, these are relations of time and space, or of causa-
tion and design. But we assume and imply their being, and that we know the being of each
by direct and satisfying knowledge. If we did not. know them both to be, we should not seek
to assign their respective attributes to each. We should not seek to separate the agency of
each in the effects in which both are coefficient.
We say, then, without reserve, that the mind in sense-perception, knows matter or mate-
rial being as truly and as directly as in consciousness it knows the ego, or mental being.
§ 660. These two beings which are separated and distin-
Dualism of ° . P - •._ -.'• - ' • ■■* .
matter and guished irom one another by the duahstic analysis or direct
mind overcome ,.,_ .... ,, % . \« , ,
by unity of knowledge, are again united as one by the synthesis of thought.
First of all they are united as beings under that all-compre-
hensive category, and second, by the similarities of the several relations
which are common to both. The unknown and fleeting material substance
that has eluded the definitions of philosophers, is the something which is
known in every act of sense-perception: which is defined, indeed, by
means of the relations of sense and of thought ; but is not the less, but
the more necessarily assumed to be. It is true, the most important of the
relations of matter are its relations to the soul itself, and the most ob-
trusive of the affections of the soul are its sensations, but the soul, as
intellect, has and discerns other relations than these. It is more than a
conscious receiver of sensations. It has the power, by direct cognition,
to know matter and spirit in higher relations than those of sense. It can
know them in their respective relations to space and time, and, above all,
it can unite them as adapted to one another in a common design. Both
§662. SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE I MIND AND MATTER. 637
matter and spirit have certain common and separate relations to time
and space, either in their acts or objects. Each, also, is known by rela-
tions of causation, material being by its relations to the soul as sentient,
giving sensible qualities ; psychical being by spiritual acts and states, and
also by its capacities to be acted on through the body in sensation, and
to act upon it in motion. They have relations to other material and
mental beings. These beings, as defined by these relations, are called sub-
stances ; for each holds a permanent existence and permanent relations to
the other in the designs of nature and of God.
This analysis enables us to understand the possibility of a difference in the attributes of
matter, and especially the division of these qualities into primary and secondary.
YI. The Primary and Secondary qualities of Matter.
§ 661. The qualities of matter have been divided into two classes, Primary and Seo
Twofold and ondary ; and into three, Primary, Secundo-Primary and Secondary. Others have de-
threefold classi- nied that there was any ground for dividing them at all, contending that there is no
fication. reason for recognizing more than a single class. The older Greek philosophers— thi
Atomisls— distinguished the qualities of hot and cold, sweet and hitter, and of color etc..
as experienced by the soul; from the capacity in bodies to produce them. The quality in the body, in aU
these cases, they contended was some particular configuration of atoms.
Aristotle, by applying the distinction between an object in capacity, kv Svvdfiei, and an
object in act, ev hepyia, was led to distinctly recognize many of those which were after
~l ocifiparion wards called secondary qualities, as simply capacities in objects to produce by act sen-.
sations in the soul. In other words, they were recognized as powers, or, in modern
phrase, they were relegated to the categoiy of causation. But Aristotle distinguishes
between common and proper sensibles, ala-drjTa kolvo. kou ISia. Of the first he enumerates five : Magnitude
{Extension), Figure, Motion, Rest and Number. These are simplified still further by him into one or two,
of which motion is preeminent, or, as some of his interpreters contend, is all-comprehensive. 'Whether the
common sensibles are apprehended by sense he would make a question, and this question was abundantly
discussed by the later Aristotelians. That they are qualities of matter he would not doubt in the least,
and that they correspond to the Primary qualities of his predecessors, there can be no question.
Descartes distinguishes the two classes as follows : (1) Magnitude, Figure, Motion, Situa-
tion, Duration, and Number, etc., etc., are clearly perceived ; (2) Color, Pain, Odor, and
That of Des- Xaste are perceived in a very different manner. Of qualities of the first class we have
an idea as they are or may be in fact or reality (ut sunt aut saltern esse possuni). Of
those of the second we have only an obscure and confused conception of something which
occasions the appropriate sensation. These are nothing but certain arrangements of size, figure, and mo-
tion (dispositions quasdam in Magnitudine, Figura et Motu consislentes). Of the one we have an idea, of
the other a sensation. The essence of matter, according to Descartes, consists of extension, as that of mind
consists of thought. Of course the knowledge of extension is the, knowledge of matter as it is ; while the
knowledge of every thing else concerning matter, viz., its qualities or properties, must be of what it is in
relation to the mind, i. e., to its thoughts, in the sense of Descartes, i. e., to its sensations.
§ 662. The doctrine of Locke may be stated in the following propositions :
(a.) A Quality in a body is its power to produce ideas in us.
Classification of ^ Primary qualities are such as are absolutely inseparable from a body in whatever
state it may be. They are such as are essential to the very idea of matter. These original
primary qualities are Solidity, Extension, Figure, Motion or Pest and Number. (B. II.
c. 8, § 9.) To this he adds, in another place, Bulk. By Number, Hamilton supposes he means divisibility
of the constituent parts. The ideas of these qualities are resemblances of them, and their patterns do
really exist in the bodies themselves.
(c.) Secondary qualities are not essential to the idea of matter ; matter can be conceived to exist with-
out them. Moreover, they are powers to produce various sensations in us by means of the primary qual-
ities, i. e., by the bulk, figure, texture and motion of their insensible parts, as colors, sounds, tastes, etc., etc.
" The ideas [i. e., sensations] produced in us by these secondary qualities have no resemblance of them at all."
These divisions and definitions are peculiar in the arrangement which they make in the qualities enu-
merated under each class, but preeminently in that they involve a physical theory, not unlike that of tht
638
THE HUMAN INTELLECT.
§666
ancient Atomists, that the secondary qualities can be explained hy certain relations and motions of the
primary qualities. They involve Locke's peculiar theory of knowledge as consisting in the apprehension
of resemblances to or between ideas. Berkeley and Hume both rejected Locke's distinction of primary and
secondary qualities, when they limited our knowledge of matter to that of ideas only, by a more rigid
application of his definition of knowledge.
§ 663. Reid, in his Inquiry, enumerates as primary qualities, Extension, Figure, Mo-
tion, Hardness and Softness, Roughness and Smoothness ; in his Essays, Extension, Divisi-
Of Reid. bility, Figure, Motion, Solidity, Hardness, Softness, and Fluidity as so called by Locke.
Laying out of view the questions which might arise in respect to the meaning of some
of the terms here used, as the different import of solidity and hardness, we observe
that Reid holds with Descartes that our notions of the primary qualities are clear and distinct, and of the
secondary are obscure and confused, and with Descartes and Locke, that the primary give a knowledge of
objects, i. e., qualities in themselves, while the second gives us a knowledge of the unknown causes of
subjective affections of the soul. Our knowledge of the first is therefore direct, of the second is relative.
§ 664. Dugald Stewart distinguishes the primary qualities into two classes, the mathe-
matical affections of matter, which are extension and figure, and the proper primary
Steward qualities, which are hardness, softness, roughness, and smoothness. These two classes of
primary qualities involve extension and outness or externality. The secondary are only
the unknown causes of known sensations. "When first apprehended by the mind they
do not imply any thing distinct from the states of the soul. The unknown cause is afterwards, as in the
case of color, so intimately associated with the subjective sensation, that the sensation itself is taken to
involve extension, and it is impossible for us to believe that there can be sensations of color without
perceived extension. Phil. Essays.
§ 665. Hamilton divides the qualities of matter into three classes, the Primary, the
Secundo- Primary, and the Secondary. The primary include all the relations of matter
to space, i. e., the relations of extension. These may be stated under two general
heads— the relations of matter as filling space, and as contained in space. Matter, as
filling space, is extended in three dimensions and is incompressible. Matter, as con-
tained in space, is capable of motion and place.
The primary qualities are simply objective, and though given on condition of sensation
are percepts proper, gained by pure mental apprehension ; no sensation or relation to
sensation being involved in the notion which we form of them.
The secundo-primary are all comprehended under Resistance or pressure, and may
be defined as the various capacities of Resistance. These are comprehended under the
several heads of Gravity and Cohesion, Repulsion and Inertia. They are both objective and subjective.
As objective they resist the locomotive energy, and are apprehended as resisting it in various degrees. As
subjective they affect the sentient organism with various sensations of pressure. In the secundo-primary
a sensation, viz., of pressure, is the concomitant of the perception, viz., of resistance to the locomotive en-
ergies. The term hardness denotes a resistance of which we are conscious, and a certain feeling from
pressure on the organism. The former, a perception, is wholly different from the latter, a sensation.
The secondary are not properly qualities of body at all. "We know only the several
sensations and we infer some power in the body which produces them. These sensa-
tions, as consciously experienced, are, however, not purely subjective or spiritual states
without extension, but affections of the sentient and animated organism, which is known
in sensation to be extended. Each of these affections depends entirely on the excite-
ment of the nervous organism from any stimulus, as electric action, congestion of the nerves, pressure or a
blow ; and the reference of it to any perceived body is purely inductive and experiential. The sensations
to which these unknown or occult powers in bodies are supplied, are Color, Sound, Flavor, Savor and Tactual
sensation, and all those which we have described as the Muscular and Organic sensations. The secondary
qualities are powers inferred from sensation.
In respect to the relation of these three classes of attributes to the notion of matter,
Hamilton asserts that the primary only are absolutely essential to the notion of matter,
and these all rest upon the d priori and necessary idea of space, and can be deduced
from it. The secundo-primary qualities, generalized as Hardness known through pres-
sure, are not essential to the concept of matter. They are, moreover, known by ob-
servation and not deduced d priori. They are not, therefore, known as necessary but as contingent. They
are not, therefore, essential to the notion of matter, though they are believed to be its invariable accompa-
niment. The secondary qualities are obviously d fortiori not essential to the conception of matter.
In critically estimating these theories by the aid of our analysis in §§ 650-660, -we observe :
§ 666. 1 . There is a general agreement in the opinion, that if there are any attributes of
matter which are known directly by the mind, and which as known do not involve any
relation to the sensations which attend them, these may be properly called primary
qualities. If also there are powers in matter to produce sensations as effects in tha
soul as a sentient, these arc secondary qualities.
Of Sir William
Hamilton.
The Primary
and Secundo-
Primary.
The Secondary
Qualities.
The relation of
the three to the
notion of matter.
The Primary
and Secondary
qualities distin-
fc"uish;ible.
§668.
SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE: MIND AND MATTER. 639
The principle of the division is obviously so just and the application of it so easy, that the only ques-
tion which we need ask is, Can these two classes of attributes be distinguished in fact 1
The analysis already made has shown that they can. The relations of matter to space, in its double
form of the space-limited and the space-filling, do not in their matter or content, as known by the mind,
involve the recognition of any sensation. On the other hand, the powers of matter to produce certain
sensations of touch, sight, smell, taste, and sound, can only be known by considering the sensations them-
selves as caused by these powers. Of the first class we have direct and positive knowledge. Of the second
our knowledge is indirect and relative, it being explained by the effects.
2. Is there now an intermediate or third class of material qualities, the secundo-primary,
The Secundo- such as that for which Hamilton contends, in which the perceptional and sensational
primary not sat- elements are both combined ? "We think that if there is, Hamilton has failed to show
tablishedf ** ^ D*9 analysis. The passage which gives the results of this analysis most briefly
and clearly is the following : " The secundo-primary qualities have thus always two
phases, both immediately apprehended. On their primary or objective phasis they manifest themselves as
degrees of resistance opposed to our locomotive energy ; on their secondary or subjective phasis, as modes
of resistance or pressure affecting our sentient organism." Heidi's Works, note D, p. 848.
The " locomotive energy " or " the locomotive faculty " is carefully distinguished by Ham-
ilton (p. 864) from the muscular sense. He calls it the power of moving the muscles at
comotiveenerCT w*'1' an(i conceives *na* ^ might exist and act if all muscular feeling were abolished.
In its actual exercise he analyzes its activities into three elements : 1. As a pure men-
tal act of will = the hyper-organic volition to move. 2. As a mental effort or nisus to
move = the enorganic volition of which we are immediately conscious. 3. As the contraction of the mus-
cles = the organic movement or the organic nisus.
Of this we observe, that this locomotive energy or faculty as known to itself by effort and degrees of
resistance, is either purely spiritual or sensational or both. If it is purely mental, then the mind knows
of a mental purpose and effort to move either something already known as objective, or its own organism
known as such. If it be of something objective to the organism, then the degrees of its refusal to move
must be measured either by the greater or smaller displacement or change of its space relations, in which
case degrees of resistance would be estimated by objectively discerned changes in space-relations ; or by some
relation of the object to pure mental effort, in which case resistance in matter would be defined and con-
ceived only by its relation to a purely mental effect, viz., resistance to mental effort, which would involve a
phasis eminently subjective. If the object be the organism, then the resistance of the organism must be
measured in the same way, on the supposition that all sensations are excluded.
If the locomotive energy is psychical and the resistance in its several degrees is sensational, then we
have no longer a pure mental apprehension, either of objective relations of space or of relations to men-
tal effort, but we estimate resistance by its relations to experienced sensations, which involves a subject-
ive phasis again in that which is claimed to be purely objective.
If the locomotive energy as exerted and resisted are both known, as sensations, or are known by means
of sensations, then the phenomena are purely subjective.
In general the power in matter to resist mental efforts can scarcely be considered as belonging to any
class except the secondary qualities. The power to resist the locomotive energy is distinguished from
the power to produce sensations, only by the kind of subjective effect which it produces. The one is no
more objective than the other.
§ 667. There is still an element in matter which does not fall within either of the two
Matter as being, classes of qualities, and which Hamilton seeks to provide for (unsuccessfully as we have
t h^e re Primary seen), by the intermediate class. The conviction that there is material being forces
qualities. itself upon every mind, and gives interest to the problem which in any way starts the
question, ' "What is that something 1 ' What then is it? We reply, it is matter as being,
as distinguished from its relations to other matter, to the sentient spirit, or to space or time. This is
known by direct " mental apprehension." It is known in connection with felt sensations and on condition
of the excited or impelled sensorium. It is known as being and also as causing these sensations, not as
though its being was only known through or by relation to these sensations, but it is directly known as
being and also as related to these sensations which it causes. "When it is not merely known as a percept,
but is also defined as a concept, then by the very nature of the concept, it can be expressed and defined only
by its relations or its attributes. (§652.) These give us logical knowledge. This does not include, nor
can it stand in the place of the direct knowledge which perception alone can give, and imagination can re-
vive. This can suggest what that would be and hence can in a most important sense recall and imply it.
But the knowledge of matter of being is not included in, it is only implied by the statement of its attri-
butes. "What the mind knows in its perception of matter can never be conveyed by an enumeration of
the relations or attributes of what is thus known.
§ 668. Two questions remain to be considered in respect to these two classes of qualities,
still remain. (a*) -Are *'^e Prrmary qualities distinguished from the secondary in being alone essen-
tial to the conception of matter, as Locke and others assert? (&.) Do the primary qual
ities alone give us a knowledge of matter as it really is, and as distinguished from a relative knowledge ?
640 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 669
In reply to the first, it is enough to say, that if we distinguish the concept or notion of
Are the primary matter from a percept or image, then all that is properly essential are those relations
qualities ess en- or qualities which are required to define and distinguish this kind of being from every
tion of matter ?" other being. It is of course implied that such relations are always true of this kind of
being ; that they are always present and never absent in a single individual. This
being assumed, we have only to ask for a sufficient number of relations to serve the purposes of definition.
It is obvious that for this single object no other are necessary than the relations of matter to space.
These are always present, and for the purposes of defining the concept these alone are required.
But this cannot be all that is intended by the phrase " essential to the notion of matter." This would
suggest a question like this, '■ Can matter, i. e., the space-filling and space-contained being— possibly exist
without some or all of the so-called sensible qualities, viz., those of touch, color, smell, sound and taste?
This question suggests its own answer, as follows : "We cannot believe that matter is not tangible to a
sentient endowed with touch, or visible, i. e., colored to a sentient who can see. That matter is not visible
to the blind is an unquestioned fact. But suppose he could see, and again suppose that the vision of those
who do see were sufficiently acute to enable them to see the matter of gases, and the like ? "Whether there
ia or could be matter which is wholly divested of odor, or taste, or sound, to sentients •with the acutest con-
ceivable capacities it would not be easy to decide, but it is quite certain that we can conceive [t. e., ima-
gine] it to exist without some of these qualities or relations to our own sensibility. If we employ the
question in its more general meaning, we mean by " essential to the concept of matter " — " necessarily in-
volved or implied in its nature or constitution." This would be the same as to ask, ' Can there be a per-
manently space-filling something which is not also tangible, visible, audible ? ' etc. But this is not a
logical, or psychological, or even a metaphysical problem, but one that is purely physical— a problem which
can be solved by extensive observations of every species of matter and a more penetrating insight into its
powers and laws than has yet been reached. Its solution must be left with the physicists to whom it prop-
erly belongs.
§669. . The second question is the following : Is it true, as Eeid asserts, that our knowl-
edge of the primary qualities only is a direct and real, while that of the secondary is
real 'kmy^edae only an "1<i^rect an<a relative knowledge of matter. In reply to this much agitated
query, it seems clear that the knowledge of neither class of qualities as such, is real,
as contrasted with relative knowledge. The knowledge of qualities of every sort is, as we
have seen, only a knowledge of relations, and it consequently can only be relative knowledge. It is true
the two classes of relations are different by reason of the beings to which they are related. The primary
qualities are the relations of matter to time and space and the perceiving mind. The secondary and se-
cundo-primary are its relations to the sentient soul. The first are discerned by the intellect only and do
not require that any felt sensation should be introduced. The second require that the sensations, varying
in quality and intensity with each individual at different times, should be considered. The primary are
apprehended by a direct cognition, the mind looking out of itself at its objects. The secondary involve a
reflex process by which the mind projects before its comparing judgment, the object, viz., matter, and the
subject, viz., the sentient soul, or animated body, and asks and answers what are the relations of the one to
the other. While then, both primary and secondary lie within the sphere of relations, and the knowledge of
both is relative only, yet the objects related and the process by which they are cognized and compared is in
the one case more complicated and unnatural than it is in the other. But both presume a real being which
is both knowable and known as well as the relations of this being. If real knowledge is contrasted with,
and is exclusive of, relative, knowledge, then neither the primary nor the secondary qualities, when known
as relations only, ensure us real knowledge. If direct and relative are opposed, we can only say that the
knowledge by the primary is more direct than knowledge by the secondary.
The knowledge of qualities, whether primary or secondary, is not a knowledge of the reality but of
the nature of existing things. It is, properly, not a knowledge that they are, but a knowledge of what they
are. The primary qualities are, in one sense, more constant and universal, and hence more easily em-
ployed as signs or indications of what is fixed and permanent in the agencies, laws, and designs of existing
objects, and hence they are safer than the secondary as indicators and criteria of what we call real knowl-
edge. But the nature of real knowledge has been so much discussed in modern speculation as to require
to be separately considered. As we are necessarily brought to consider this topic by the discussion of sub-
stance and attribute, we add the following :
VII. Of the real as opposed to the phenomenal.
§ 670. The real, in the language of recent philosophy, is opposed both
to the phenomenal and the relative. It is used in the first connection by
Kant, and in the second by Hamilton.
§668. SUBSTANCE AND ATTEIBUTE : MIND AND MATTER. 641
Phenomenal dis- The phenomenal, as distinguished from the real, may be under-
the^e^lu^th? stood in two senses. It may mean that that which appears
first sense. t0 one sense fe not w/iat it appears to be to another ; as when
a stick, thrust in the water, appears to be bent, but is not so in fact ; or,
when the rainbow appears to be, but is not, a solid arch, or the spectrum on
the screen appears to be, but is not, a dagger or a flame. In cases like
these, the object, as known by one sense, is misjudged (§ 146.) The inference
is drawn that one percept, as that given to the eye, is the sign of another,
that which is appropriate to the touch. We infer that what we see with
the eye is, or will prove, solid, or, as we say, real, to the touch. We say
of the stick in the water, it is apparently, but not really crooked, and of
the stick in the atmosphere, with precisely the same appearance, it is not
merely apparently but is really crooked. In this sense, that which is known
by the sense of touch, or by all the senses combined, is held to be real,
while what is apparent to or inferred from a single sense is phenomenal.
The phenomenal, in the second sense, is any thing manifested
sense116 second to direct observation — either of sense or consciousness — as
distinguished from the elements into which it is resolved, and
the powers or laics by which it is explained. For example, the rainbow,
as apprehended by the eye, is a phenomenon ; but the rainbow, as
resolved into light reflected from rain-drops at a certain angle from the
sun, is said to be the reality. But what is a rain-drop ? As a phenomenon
it is an object with a certain form and appearance to the eye, with a certain
taste, feeling, to the other senses, and with other relations to other well-
known substances. But when it is chemically analyzed, it is known to be
the product of certain agents in certain proportions. The reality of water
would again be considered by some to be its chemical elements united in
certain proportions ; and the reality of light, an ether capable of certain
undulations.
According to this use of these contrasted terms, every thing apprehended by
in the last sense the senses, all that is known as most solid and real in the world of matter,
perceived is reaL is on^J phenomenal, and that only is real which is discovered by science of
the elements and laws into which these phenomena are resolved, and by which
they are explained. Any thing which remains to be thus explained and resolved, is phe-
nomenal, relatively to the agents and laws which explain it.
The solid matter which we touch and press against is not real. The reality is the un-
known something which we describe as endowed with the power to impart a special sensation
through the nerves of touch. This special sensation with which we are so familiar is not real,
but only the something which suffers changes (suppose vibrations), by which tbe mind is
affected in a peculiar manner. Under this contrast, that which is directly and constantly
known, which interests our feelings, which is most important, and, in one sense, is most perma-
nent, is pronounced unreal ; and that only is called real which is reached by special and arti-
ficial analysis, and expressed by recondite relations. Of the analysis which attains to reality
so understood, we are never certain that we have reached the end. The real agents behind
these shifting changes which we call the phenomenal universe of material being, may not yet
41
THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 671.
have been ascertained ; and after all that science has discovered, we are still forced to ask,
What is reality, and shall we ever be able to lay hold of it ?
§ 671. In respect even to the mind that knows matter, we
Not even what . . , ., . .. ,.~, ,, ,. ..
we know by the inquire whether, in case it were differently constituted, it
would not give different phenomena ; and whether what we
call the sensible world is not a phenomenon made up in part of the
unknown object which we call matter, and in part of the organized and
animated matter which we call the sensorium, so that the objects touched
and tasted and smelled and colored, etc., etc., which we call the material
universe, are not realities, but only phenomena jointly produced by the two
unknown and unknowable realities which we call matter and the embodied
soul.
According to this contrast, the real thing, the thing in itself, can never be known. It is
transcendental to our knowledge ; we only know that it is. We cannot even know it in any
relations ; for the relations or categories by which the understanding judges, do not connect
realities, but only phenomena. Even the relations of space and time do not apply to realities,
but only to phenomena. And if both the forms of the understanding and of intuition,
could be applied to things as well as to phenomena, these forms may themselves be only sub-
jective, that is, the phenomenal products of the human agent having a relative existence only
to the human being.
The real as thus opposed to the phenomenal is called by Kant the noumenon or the
Kant's doctrine ^e thing in itself. This cannot be discerned by the senses, nor can it be apprehended
of the real and by consciousness. It ever flits from our grasp, and leaves phenomena only in our pos-
phenomenal. session as shadows which do not satisfy us but point to something which we never can
reach. We cannot know it by the intellect. It is true that the Speculative Reason,
as distinguished from the Understanding, must assume it to exist, in order to regulate its operations and
conclusions, but even the Speculative Reason does not know that it in fact exists. It is only the Practical
or Moral Reason which commands us to believe that it exists in the three forms of Matter, the Soul, and
God.
The doctrine of Hamilton on this subject has been made the subject of earnest dispute.
Different interpreters are far from being agreed as to what was his real meaning. The
doctrine 8 following passages seem to express his views in intelligible language, and to exhaust all
the constructions to which they can be subjected : " Our whole knowledge of mind and of
matter is relative— conditioned— relatively conditioned. Of things absolutely or in
themselves— be they external, be they internal — we know nothing or know them as incognizable ; and be-
come aware of their incomprehensible existence only as this is indirectly and accidentally revealed to us
through certain qualities related to our faculties of knowledge, and which qualities, again, we cannot
think as unconditioned, irrelative, existent in and of themselves. All that we know is therefore phenom-
enal—phenomenal of the unknown. The philosopher speculating on the worlds of matter and of mind, is
thus, in a certain sort, only an ignorant admirer. In his contemplation of the universe, the philosopher
indeed resembles iEneas contemplating th% adumbrations on his shield ; as it may equally be said of the
Bage as of the hero :
« Miratur : Rerum que ignarus imagine gaudet.'
Nor is this denied ; for it has been commonly confessed, that as substances, we know not what is matter,
and are ignorant of what is mind." Discussions, App. I. B.
" Our knowledge is relative : 1st, because existence is not cognizable absolutely and in itself, but only
in special modes ; 2d, because these modes can be known only if they stand in a certain relation to our
faculties ; and 3d, because the modes, thus relative to our faculties, are presented to and known by tho
mind only under modifications determined by these faculties themselves." Mel. Zee. 8.
" Suppose that the total object of consciousnes in perception is =12 ; and suppose that the external
reality contributes 6, the material sense 3, and the mind 3, this may enable you to form some rude con-
jecture of the nature of the object of perception." Met. Lee. 25.
" I believe that I immediately know a material world existing ; in other words, I believe that the ex-
ternal reality itself is the object of which I am conscious in perception." Dis. Rev. of Meid and Brown.
§673. SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE I MIND AND MATTER. 643
" I have frequently asserted that in perception we are conscious of the external object immeiiatel?
and in itself. This is the doctrine of Natural Realism. But in saying that a thing is known in itself, I do
not mean that this object is known in its absolute existence, that is, out of relation to us. This is impos-
sible, for our knowledge is only of the relative." Dissertations on Reid— (Note, p. 866.)
!The assumptions § 672. We have already criticised the assumptions on which
Hampton* criti- these conclusions of Kant and Hamilton are founded, and
wsed. jiave <jjrec{;e(j attention to the misapplied analogies by which
they have been derived. (§533.) We add only the remark that the word
real, as at present contrasted with the phenomenal and the relative, is
used comparatively only, so that an existence may be properly said to be
more or less real, and that the words phenomenal and relative are also
used in the same equivocal and variable manner. Philosophically or meta-
physically considered, whatever is known is real, whether known to sense
or consciousness, whether known to one sense or many senses, whether
enduring for a moment or for an eternity, whether wrongly or rightly
used as the ground for an inference. The thing in itself, or the thing un-
related, is a mere abstraction, and the real thus interpreted, is an imaginary
phantom, an hypostasized abstraction which is transcendental and unreach-
able to the human intellect, whenever that intellect vainly imagines that it
may have substantial and separate being.
This search after the real as the ultimate and independent, is not confined to professed
philosophers.
§ 6*73. The course of thought by which these technical distinctions are
The same ques- evolved, and these refined speculations are occasioned, is natural to all men.
common^ife. ' The boy believes at first, that the rainbow which spans the sky is in reality a
solid and colored arch. The savage thinks that the image of himself which is
reflected in a mirror, is another human being who mocks his motions. But when the boy runs
to touch the rainbow, he cannot find it ; and when the savage looks behind the mirror, he
cannot grasp the man he saw. This, teaches them to distinguish between the real and
the unreal. At first they call that real which can be handled as well as seen. When after-
wards they learn to understand that these phenomena are effects, they dignify by the name of
realities, the agents which produce them. By and by they conjecture that perhaps those
appearances to the eye which are most permanent and constant, can be traced to certain
forces on which they depend, and which are governed by laws. Having been surprised
and mocked, as they think, more than once by sense-phenomena, they ask whether the uni-
verse that is painted to the eye, becomes any more real because it can be touched and grasped
by the hand, than the rainbow which exists for the eye only, and is impalpable to the com-
mon touch ? They persist in inquiring, if unreal visions of the eye can be so skilfully con-
jured into being by appropriate agencies, why also may not what is touched and weighed and
measured be also as unreal, and be as dependent on forces and laws that are unobserved ? If
the sense-universe is * what we half receive and half create,' why may not the mind it-
self, in all its knowing, be made a changing and relative factor by its own forms of sense
and thought, and more than half create the phenomena which it seems to know ? Nay, why
may not the mind — the knowing agent — be itself a changing illusion, depending for being
and laws on other agencies ; itself the most unreal phenomenon of all, because productive of
the most numerous unrealities ?
644 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §676.
§ 674. We answer some of these questions thus : The question of reality
How best re- and non-reality, as used in this special sense, is not concerned with phe.
solved. nomena as such, but with the causes, forces, or agents, which produce and
explain them. The rainbow is as real — i. e., knowable — as are the clouds or
the solid earth ; and so is the image in the mirror as real as the man of whom it is
..he reflex. While each endures and is manifested to the sense to which it is appropriate,
it is a reality. It is an illusion, in that the mind made more of it than it was authorized to
io. If the boy had regarded it as only being visible, and had not run across the fields to find
its golden pillars, he would not have complained of nature, or grown sceptical as to her trust-
worthiness.
we distinguish § 675. To determine what is real, we must first inquire
ceived and^Is hi what sense we use the word. "We may distinguish be-
tween objects as perceived by sense, and as known in higher
relations. Things and facts given in experience, are, as phenomena, just
what they appear to be. But when we view them in their relations to
causes and laws, we call those real whose causes are permanent and always
active, for these are constant, ever-present, and enduring effects. If the
causes are occasional and short lived, the effects are said to be unreal.
The universal light and the wakeful eye cooperate to produce and prepare
for the perceiving mind the reality which we call the visible universe.
Let this light be dimmed, or the eye be dimmed (one or both), and the
colored universe is an actual reality no longer. But inasmuch as its con-
ditions or causes are ever ready to produce this phenomenal being, it is
said to be real or a reality.
The relations of § 6^6- But when we ask, May not the perceiving intellect
n^t^dfsfrust- produce the objects and relations which it beholds, as truly
e<L and with a similar liability to change as does the sensorium
— L e., Is it not with its categories, itself a phenomenon dependent upon
transcendental and changeable forces ? We answer, "No. The analogy
fails by which we transfer the phenomena of the sentient to the realities
of the knowing soul. The soul, as intellect, not only acts in knowing
according to the constitution which makes it what it is, but it assumes,
and must assume, that these object-relations are discerned and affirmed by
every intellect whether creating or created, and are therefore the real
elements of all trustworthy knowing as a subjective process, and of all
valid knowledge as an objective fact. To whatever object-matter this
process or its results are applied (whether it be to material or spiritual, or
to the thinking agent itself ), these categories are absolute and real, and
cannot be even supposed to be relative or phenomenal. To suppose them
such, is to commit intellectual suicide. It is to introduce constant antago-
nism into every process which we perform, and the elements of self-
destruction into every result which these processes evolve, as wrell as logical
incompatibility and confusion into the language by which both processes
and results are expressed. It is to philosophize ourselves into the impossi
bility of philosophy, and by assumptions which we deny that we mav as<*"^"
§677. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 645
It is not only to offend against reason by introducing inconsistency
into that which in its very nature is self-consistent, but it is to overlook
or deny those designs which we must assume that the universe exists to
fulfil, so far at least as to be capable of being known.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE FINITE AND CONDITIONED. THE INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE.
The questions concerning the finite and its relations, the conditioned and its dependence
upon the absolute, are the most vexed and the most unsettled of any in modern specula-
tion. Can the infinite be conceived or known by a finite inellect ? Can the uncondi-
tioned be brought under those relations which are appropriate only to the conditioned ?
What are the finite and the infinite — the conditioned and the absolute ? These inquiries,
and such as these, are discussed in various forms and phrases in all modern treatises and
histories of philosophy. They force themselves into psychology as they compel us to
inquire : By what powers and processes of the intellect do we form, or essay to form,
conceptions of these objects ? Do we believe that such objects exist ? Who and what
are time, space, and God ? Do we only believe them to exist ? If so, by what process and
on what grounds ? Is it a process of intuition, knowledge, or faith ? What relations do
they hold to one another ? Are time and space infinite in every sense in which God is
infinite ? These questions we must attempt to answer, if we would analyze all the powers
and explain all the products of the human intellect. We can do this most successfully if
we consider the finite and the conditioned apart from the infinite and the absolute. We
begin with
I. The finite and the conditioned,
§ 677. The process of knowledge in all the forms as yet con-
Sg^roIess!,nut" sidered, is a unifying and therefore a limiting process. It is
true it also divides ; but the intellect discriminates, in order
that it may combine ; it divides, in order again to unite. But its final
achievement is to effect some union. It is to make one, of materials which
were separate or diverse. Each object which it takes in hand it analyzes
into many parts, and discriminates into various elements. The parts it
then proceeds to recombine into a completed whole : the elements it
blends into a perfected product. It leaves it a completed whole or
finished result, which passes into the sum of its possessions as a known, a
defined, and therefore a limited or finite object.
Thus, in sense-perception, the objects are perceived by being first separated
Illustrated by jnto distinct percepts, each of which is perfected by a separate act of analytic
tion. attention, and again united into a completed whole in space. These wholes
are separated from the perceiving mind as diverse in nature, and" yet are con
nected by the uniting act of knowledge, as existing in a single instant of time.
646 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §678.
These single objects, so called, thus distinguished from one another in space, are con.
nected with one another as adjoining, and thus of these several distinguishable things, is made
up a continuous unit, comprehending all the parts at once presented to the eye or covered
by the hand. The distinguishable parts of an act or state of the mind are united as coex-
istent, and so connected into a whole by the observation of consciousness.
The units thus constituted may be enlarged by the imagination and memory.
By acts of im- Spatial objects may be added one to another, so as to increase the space-unit
memory. to tn© furthest limit ; or imagination may suppose them created when they
are not. Memory may add to the present mental states all that have gone
before within its own experience. Imagination supplies all that now exist, or that may exist
in other minds. Each of these forms of the representative power, after its own manner pro-
duces units or finite wholes.
Thought, by its similarities observed, unites the like into new combinations
Bv the processes or UInts- ft refers diverse effects to a common cause, acting under similar
of thought. iaws# it subordinates means the most diverse to a single end, by their con-
spiring and designed adaptation, and thus unites them as preeminently one.
The finite n § 6^8' ^e can ima&me tnat a^ material objects perceivable
verse ; how con- could be united as one by the single mind with capacities
ample enough to grasp so many by a single act. What no
human mind can actually perceive or be conscious of, it imagines under the
relations of time and space, and by induction believes to exist. It can also
imagine every existing mind as operating with every other mind, and can
suppose itself to know all the powers of these minds, and all their acts.
We can believe it possible that these agents and objects should be known
in all their knowable likenesses and dissimilarities, in all their causal
agencies, in all the laws under which their forces act and the ends to
which they are adapted. We can conceive this assemblage of separate
objects, material and spiritual, with their several phenomena, to be but an
assemblage of effects, produced by other agencies and other beings in
previous times, and these by others ; each aggregate of beings and forces
producing others, under permanent agencies and fixed laws. Moreover, we
can conceive these beings, with their powers and laws, as co-existing in
space ; these successive evolutions, whether of separate beings or new
phenomena, as developed in time, as designed for separate ends, and all
these ends as conspiring together for a series of ends, constituting in this
way an intelligible and orderly system. This assemblage of all objects
believed to be existing in space and acting in time, with all the agencies
and laws and relations now known or which may be afterward discovered,
make up the finite universe as knowable, or conceived by man. It is called
the universe, because it includes as a whole all the separable objects
apprehensible by sense and consciousness. It is the finite universe, be-
cause each of these objects is limited to a portion of space and a period
of time, and subjected to all the conditions of existence and of action
which their actual forces, laws, and ends prescribe. It exists and acts
under the action of these forces, ends, and laws.
§ 680. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 64''.
To know the finite universe, in its constituent parts, and to unite these undei
\V"hat it is to au k110wn and discoverable relations, is the aim of science. To this end it
know tne uni- '
verse. observes facts, viz., objects and their phenomena; searches out causes, in-
terprets laws and uses, and is ever nearing but has not yet achieved its
ideal of mastering every thing that can be known. It conceives of all that exists, or has
3xisted, or that may exist, and it seeks to make of this universe of fact, a universe, known —
i. e., a universe of finished or completed knowledge.
§ 679. To speak more exactly, the finite universe is both
verselriimiS." limited and conditioned / the words limited and conditioned
not being always synonymous. The universe of objects
and events which we know by sense-perception, and which we enlarge by
the representative power, believing that its objects exist by means of
thought; this universe is made up of objects and events which are
bounded by one another, and have a limited or definite extension. This
is true of all the existing spirits which we know. They all exist and act
within certain defined spheres of extension. When all these extended
beings, and these spheres of spiritual being and action, are gathered into
the universe known, its extension is still limited or defined. So far, also,
as we trace this universe of beings and phenomena, backward or forward
through the series of its changing developments, its duration is limited by
a beginning and end. There is a first and a last of the series, if it is
limited; whether the terms designate a single object or act, or are collec-
tive and designate many objects.
It is also a conditioned universe. Every part and element in
tioned!80 °ondl" ^ depends on something other than itself, for what it is and
for what it does. It begins to be by the operation of one
or more agents acting according to laws, and these agents are the neces-
sary conditions of its existence. It also continues to exist under the
operation of conditions. These conditions are the causes, laws, and ends
of its being, and these prescribe its being, as well as the sphere and the
results of its activity. Each part of the universe being thus dependent on
productive forces other than itself, the universe itself, as a whole, is said
to be conditioned as well as limited. But is this all that we know ? Is
this all that exists ? Besides the limited, is there the unlimited ? Be-
sides the conditioned and dependent, is there the unconditioned, the self-
existent, and self-active ? These questions introduce
II. The infinite and absolute, and their relations to the finite and de>
pendent.
8 680. To understand the import of the questions concern-
The import of . _ . -i,. -i , , , , ,
the terms must mg these much-vexed topics, and to attempt to answer them,
it is necessary, first of all, to clear away all uncertainty in
respect to the terms which are employed, and to bring the mind to a
definite apprehension of the various senses in which they may be inter-
changed and confounded. The vagueness in which terms of such extreme
648 THE HUMAN INTELLECT.
abstractness are susceptible, and the consequent ambiguity with which
they are used by different writers and even by the same writers at differ-
ent times, are fruitful sources of misunderstanding and controversy : to say
nothing of the general haziness and uncertainty which invest the subject
in many minds. It may contribute somewhat to the removal of these
evils, if we consider, first of all, the etymology of the more important of
these terms.
"We begin with the infinite.
§ 681. Infinite signifies, literally, that which is not bounded
ofhthe^Sftl°n or terminated. It is primarily applied to spatial quantity.
Every thing which has extent is terminated or bounded by
some other object or objects which are also extended. The line or surface
which divides one surface or solid from another, is called its limit, and the
surface or solid, as necessarily thus terminated or terminable, is called
finite or limited. In like manner, the mathematical point is conceived as
terminating or limiting the mathematical line, and the line itself is limited
or finite. By an obvious transference of signification from the objects of
space to those of time, the first and last of any succession of events or
series of numbers is called its limit, and every series of numbers, numbered
objects, or events and portions of time, is finite or limited.
The terms originally appropriate to extension, duration, and
from quantity to number, are still further applied to the exercise of power by
material and spiritual agents. The exercise of power by
man, whether spiritual or material, is possible only in certain places, at
certain times, and with respect to a certain number of objects, or a measured
quantity or mass of matter, and thus power itself becomes measurable
by the relations of quantity and number as applied to its effects and the
means by which they are caused. Man can only accomplish certain effects
in limited places, times, and number, and hence he is said to be limited in
his powers. He can only know and do certain things under all these
favoring circumstances, and is therefore a finite being. The word finite is,
therefore, originally a term of quantity, and secondarily of causal or
productive agency. The infinite, in the general sense, is the not-finite.
Logically conceivable, there are as many sorts of the not-finite or infinite
as there are senses of the finite.
We may attach the negative particle to every positive adjective, and form
As many senses a corresponding negative conception. Whether each of these concepts is
ofthVfiSte!6*13 realized in fact— i. e., whether there is an existing reality corresponding to
the concept thus constructed — is a question which is not so easily answered.
But that with which we have to do at present, is the possible senses or meanings of the term ;
and it is obvious that there may be as many of these senses as there are possible senses of the
finite, its logical opposite. As there is the concept of finite in the sense of quantity, so there
is the infinite of quantity ; and as there is the finite pertaining to causal agency in matter and
spirit, so there is the concept of the infinite in the same sense. It is most important to keep
§ 683. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 643
this fact in mind, and sometimes to ask distinctly of ourselves, or others, in which sense the
term infinite is used.
8 682. The unconditioned comes next in order. Logically.
The uncondi- ? . . • ,.„ . ■ , . ° ^
tioned is the it is the negative of the conditioned, and follows its mean-
not-conditioned. . ° -..i ,.,..
mg. i/fte conditioned is that which is in any sense dependent
upon any thing else, either as a material of its composition, a cawse or
means of its production, or an object of its psychical activity. Thus,
silver is a condition of a silver spoon ; heat is the condition of the melt-
ing of iron; and a material world the condition of the act of sense-per-
ception. Every condition has this in common with every other, viz., that
that to which it is the condition cannot be what it is without it, whether
it is a thing, an act, or an effect. It is therefore said to be limited by
these conditions. It can neither be, nor be thought of without them.
They are necessary to it. They must be given or present with it, and are
therefore called its conditions.
8 683. The primary signification of the conditioned is that
Primary mean- ° .
tngofthecondi- of necessary dependence. Its secondary application is to
objects of quantity, thus reversing the process through
which the finite passes. The finite proceeds from a signification of quan-
tity to one of quality. The conditioned proceeds from quality to quan-
tity.
The line and surface are the conditions as well as the limits respectively of
Applied to quan- the surface and the solid, but solely because they are essentially necessary to
tity# the conception of each. In the same manner, space and time are the con-
ditions of extension and duration, because they are essential to the possibility
of each. They can neither be logically thought of, nor really exist, except as they involve
space and time as their conditions. All the limits of objects of quantity are also their con-
ditions, but all the conditions of such objects are not necessarily their limits. The finite, in
its secondary signification, coincides in its application with the conditioned in its primary
meaning. The conditioned, in its secondary meaning, may be applied to the same objects
with the finite in its primary meaning, but not to the same relations of these objects.
The unconditioned is that which is not conditioned — i. e., not
tioned means necessarily dependent on other objects for thought, being, or
act, as a constituent, cause, or object. "Whenever the positive
can be applied, the negative can be logically conceived as the opposite of
the conditioned.
There is a special sense in which these terms are employed by Hamilton,
Special sense which gives them a wider signification and a more extended application,
with Hamilton. This writer, with Mansel, defines to condition, by to think, and thus makes it
the equivalent of; to know objects as related, or in a relation. According to
this definition, every object which is related to any other, is conditioned by that object, and
the conditioned is equivalent to the related. The unconditioned, in this sense, is equivalent to
the unrelated ; and if the infinite is equivalent to the unconditioned, then the infinite must bf
incapable of being related. This is not the signification which we have attached to either of
650 THE HUMAJf INTELLECT. §685.
these terras. It is not necessary to find this meaning for them, in order to define them.
Whether Hamilton's definition is correct, will be discussed hereafter.
§ 684. The absolute is still another term which is often inter-
JeveraiSSsS changed with the infinite and the unconditioned. Originally
and etymologically, it signifies freed from, or severed. This
signification is purely negative, and waits to be explained by that from
which it is freed. Thus it was applied, to mean the finished or completed,
even as the Latin word absolutus, as is thought, was originally used of
the web when ready to be taken from the loom. Both these senses have
passed into the modern uses of the term, and determined the varieties of
its application. First of all, absolute and absolutely is applied to any
thought or thing as viewed apart from any of its relations — regarded sim-
ply by itself. This meaning is near akin to that under which it is viewed
as complete within or by itself Next, it is applied to that which is com-
plete of itself so far as the relations of dependence are concerned ; to that
which is necessarily dependent on nothing besides itself. In this sense it
is very near in meaning to the primary sense of the unconditioned already
explained. StiM further it is used in the sense of severed or separated
from all relations whatever, or not related — i. e., not admitting of any
relations. This sense is the same with that which Hamilton and Mansel
give to the unconditioned and the infinite. Still again: it is applied to
relations of quantity, and here the signification of complete or finished
is applied to the greatest possible or conceivable whole, to the total of all
existence, whether limited or unlimited in extent and duration.
In the Hegelian terminology, the absolute takes a special signification from
The Hegelian the fundamental assumptions of the Hegelian system. When the notion, der
Begriff, has completed every possible form of development, and, as it were, done
its utmost possible by the force of the movement essential to itself, the abso-
lute is reached. This absolute completes every possible form of development, and represents
every kind of object conceivable and knowable by the mind, from the undetermined notion
with which it begins, up to the highest form of development, when it becomes self-conscious
in the human spirit by distinguishing itself from the material universe. The conscious spirit
thus evolved, and reflecting in itself all these lower forms of existence, is, with these forms,
the absolute. This is perpetually reproduced by the lower forces of the universe, and itself
perpetually reproduces all these by its own reflective thinking.
The three used § 685. Again : these three terms are all used in two appli-
Sidtbin Thecal- cations, which are often interchanged, but which should be
Btract. carefully and sharply distinguished. The infinite, the uncon-
ditioned, and absolute, may denote some property or relation of a being
in the abstract, or may stand for a being or entity which is believed or
supposed to be infinite, unconditioned, or absolute. That is, the infinite,
etc., may stand for the infinitude, the unconditionedness, the absoluteness
of some being — i. e., as an abstractum or property of a being ; or for that
which is infinite, unconditioned, or absolute. One of these acceptations
§ 686. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINIT? AND ABSOLUTE. 65]
is obviously very different from the other. The one may readily be con
founded with the other.
It is of the greatest importance that the sense in which the word is used is
The sen sg in
question should any inquiry or discussion should be distinctly settled, and kept uniformly ant
known* a c * y steadily before the mind. It is so for two reasons : First, these terms are in
their nature so vague and abstract, that the danger is very great that one of
these senses will not be distinguished from the other ; and second, the problem to be solved
with respect to the terms, changes with every change in their acceptation. If they are
used only in the sense of abstracta, then the question to be answered is, Can they be conceived
by the mind ? Is it possible for the finite human intellect to form a concept of the infinite,
the unconditioned, the absolute ? or, which is the same, Can the finite think the infinite ? If
these terms are used as the names of an actual being, then the problem is, Does the human
mind know or believe that that which is called the infinite, the unconditioned, and the abso-
lute, does actually exist ? If it believes or knows this, by what process does it know it, and
upon what evidence or grounds ? And again, Can it believe this infinite to exist, without also
conceiving it or forming a concept of it ? All these questions have been raised with respect
to the infinite and the absolute. One of them is often interchanged with another. Some
times they are blended together, and the result has been great confusion of thought an<?
endless wrangling ; or despair of reaching a solution of any of these questions, or gaining
any satisfaction in respect to the subject to which they relate.
§ 686. These distinctions being premised, we observe still
etc., not negative further, that these concepts and the entities which thej
represent are not of necessity merely negative conceptions,
nor are they the products of what is called negative thinking.
We have seen from our analysis of the terms infinite, unconditioned,
and absolute, that they are all originally negative in form, and that this
form, strictly interpreted, would denote the absence or the denial of the
positive attributes, with which these negatives are combined. From this
unquestioned fact the inference has been derived that, because the terms
were negative, the concepts are also negative.
Locke gives some countenance to this view (Essay, B. II. c. xvii. §§ 13, 16, 18. Cf.
Arguments of Leibnitz, Nouv. Ess. B. II. c. xvii.), but he does not pusb it to its extreme. It was re-
Hamilton and served for Hamilton to do this in the amrmation that the unconditioned, both as abso-
others. jute ana infinite, are not only direct negatives of the progressive and the limited but of
that which is in any way thinkable. " The notion of either unconditioned is negative ;
the absolute and the infinite can each only be conceived as a negation of the thinkable. In other words,
of the absolute and infinite we have no conception at alL" * * "Correlatives certainly suggest each
other, but correlatives may or may not be equally real and positive. * * Thus every positive notion
(the concept of a thing by what it is) suggests a negative notion (the concept of a thing by what it is not) ;
and the highest positive notion, the notion of the conceivable, is not without its corresponding negative in
the notion of the inconceivable. But though these mutually suggest each other, the positive alone ia real ;
the negative is only an abstraction of the other, and in the highest generality, even an abstraction of
thought itself." — Discussions, Review of Cousin. 'Kant ought to have shown that the unconditioned'
"is self contradictory, because it is not a notion, either simple or positive, but only & fasciculus of nega-
tions—negations of the conditioned in its opposite extremes, and bound together by the aid of language
and their common character of incomprehensibility/' — Met. Lee. 38. Cf. Calderwood, chap. H. v. Also,
Mill, Rev. of Ham. Philosophy, c. iv. In these passages Hamilton would seem to concede that it does not
necessarily follow that because a term is negative, the concept which it denotes must of course be negative,-
but he argues as though this were true.
652 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 687.
But this inference, by whomsoever it is countenanced or made, is manifestly
the arguments invalid. It does not follow, because a concept is designated by a negative
not valid. term, that it is not positively conceived ; or, because an object is called by
such a name, that it is not really known. If the only fact that is prominent
before the mind be that an object is not something else — whether it be a being or a quality —
it may be designated by a negative term. This term does not deny its real existence, or that
it is both knowable and known, for it may assume and imply both. It simply sets forth its con-
trast with something else. If we see a bat, and say of it, It is not a bird, or, It is not a beast,
or if the Sandwich Islanders, for lack of name, had called the ox a not-hog, the use of a negative
appellation would not necessarily authorize the inference of a want of definite conceptions or
positive knowledge. So, when we gather together the entire sphere of finite being, and,
stretching our thought beyond, apprehend something which is unlike it and contrasted with it
by being not finite, not conditioned, and not dependent; we do not confess that we cannot con-
ceive it or that we do not know it as something positive and real because we emphasize this
single relation of contrast by the use of such negative terms as the infinite, the unconditioned,
and the absolute (i. e., the not finitely related).
Not the objects §687. Again, these concepts are not "negative," in that
negaS?eUtSnk- tney are produced by what is called "negative thinking"
1Dg* This negative thinking is distinguished from the mere think-
ing of a negative — i. e\, thinking a positive in a negative relation — as
above explained. According to this theory, our conceptions of the un-
conditioned, etc., are necessarily negative, because they are the result of
an attempt to think them which is unsuccessful, and which, whenever it is
i-epeated, reminds us of the impotence or imbecility of our faculties.
" Everything conceivable in thought lies between two extremes, which, as contradictory
Arguments of of eacn °ther, cannot both be true, but of which, as mutual contradictions, one must."
Hamilton and ' Space cannot be conceived by us either as an infinite or a finite maximum, or an infi-
ifansel. n^e or finite minimum, and yet if it is conceived at all it must be conceived as one of
these, and forasmuch as we cannot conceive it under either, we have only a negative
Idea of space, i. e., an idea which results from an impotent attempt to conceive it. The same is true of time,
end even of causation itself.' — Hamilton, Met. Lee. 38. Mansel illustrates the process of negative thinking
ttill more definitely. " A negative concept, on the other hand, which is no concept at all, is the attempt
'■to realize in thought those combinations of attributes of which no corresponding intuition is possible."
" The only negative ideas with which the logician or metaphysician as such is concerned, are those which
arise from an attempt to transcend the conditions of all human thought." * * " Such negative notions,
however, must not be confounded with the absence of all mental activity. They imply at once an attempt
to think and a failure in that attempt."— Mansel, Proleg. Logica, chap. i. Both Hamilton and Mansel
concede that there is a belief of the reality of this something which we cannot succeed in thinking or
knowing. " We are thus taught the salutary lesson that the capacity of thought is not to be constituted
into the measure of existence, and are warned from recognizing the domain of our knowledge as necessa-
rily coextensive with the horizon of our faith ; and by a wonderful revelation we are thus, in the very
consciousness of our inability to conceive aught above the relative and the finite, inspired with a belief in
the existence of something unconditioned beyond the sphere of all comprehensible reality."— Hamilton,
Dis. Rev. of Cousin. Mansel says : " We are compelled by the constitution of our minds, to believe in
the existence of an Absolute and Infinite Being— a belief which appears forced upon us, as the comple-
ment of our consciousness of the relative and finite."— Limits of Rel. Thought, Lee. 8.
When these statements are closely scrutinized, it will be seen
^^untenabie" that this so-called negative thinking is simply a peculiar
method of knowing or believing, which is unlike, and so the
negative of, another particular way of knowing or believing. That the
absolute is believed to exist, is affirmed by both Mansel and Hamilton, as
§ 689. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 653
well as by Kant. They contend that it is not known under the limitations
or relations which are appropriate to thought. Let this be allowed; it
does not prove that what is known is therefore negatively known, or that
the process by which it is known is a process of negative thinking.
8 688. The unconditioned, etc., is not necessarily, as a con-
The absolute, ° , . , ; ' ' „ , . T .
etc., not unxeia- cept or as a being, exclusive 01 all relations. It is not un-
related, or the unrelated.
This was the doctrine of Spinoza. The comprehensive maxim on which he
Argument of reste(l *°r tne statement and defence of it was Omnis determinatio est negatio.
Spinoza, etc. , Every relation implies a distinction into parts related ; the one part cannot
be the other : hence, the absolute, as related, cannot be complete or perfect
of itself. It cannot be unconditioned, for, in order to be related, it must require, or, so far aa
related must be conditioned upon, that which is not itself to which it is related. It cannot be
unlimited, for, in order to be what it is, or what it is asserted to be in the given relation, it
must depend on something out of itself. The unconditioned cannot, therefore, be related.
Hamilton gives the following reasons for the same opinion : " A relation is always a particular
point of view ; consequently, the things thought as relative and correlative are always thought
restrictively, in so far as the thought of the one discriminates and excludes the other and
likewise all things not conceived in the same special or relative point of view." And again ;
" We conceive God as in the relation of Creator ; and in so far as we merely conceive Him a*
Creator, we do not conceive Him as unconditioned, as infinite" etc. {Letter to Calderwood,,
cf. Mansel, Limits of Eel. Thought, Lee. 2.)
The proper answer to these representations is the following.
Bepiy. It is not at all essential to the conception of the absolute
which the human mind requires, or to its reality, that it
should exclude all relations, but only a certain class of relations, viz.,
those of dependent being or origination. The truly absolute and infinite
is that which is not dependent on any other being for its existence or its
activity. It is no part of its perfection, that it should not be distinguished
in thought from that which it is not in fact ; nor that it should not be
compared with objects not itself, under the various relations of likeness,
difference, production, and design, but simply that it should not hold cer-
tain special relations to all such objects, viz., the relations of dependence.
These relations imply a certain species of limitation which is incompatible
with absoluteness or unconditionedness. The existence of those relations
is not inconsistent with, but is rather essential to its completeness and
independence.
§ 689. The unconditioned, etc., is not the sum of all actual
Th© Eibsoliito ' ' ■
etc., not the total or conceivable being.
This view of the absolute is closely connected with the
preceding. The denial of all relations to the absolute involves the denial
of all parts or entities, whether real or thought-parts, which can be related,
and this requires the conception of the absolute, as the total of all exist-
ences and conceivable things, the To iv k<u IW, the all which is also one
THE HUMAN INTELLECT.
689.
'
This position was actually taken by /Spinoza, who was driven by logical
consistency to acknowledge but one being or substance in the universe.
Hamilton {Letter to Oalderwood) reasons as though this were the only possible con-
ception of the true absolute. Mansel, {Limits of Rel. Thought, Lee. 2,) expressly asserts :
" That which is conceived as absolute and infinite must be conceived as containing within
itself the sum not only of all actual, but of all possible modes of being. For, if any actual
mode can be denied of it, it is related to that mode, and limited by it." " The metaphysical
representation of the Deity, as absolute and infinite, must necessarily, as the profoundest
metaphysicians have acknowledged, amount to nothing else than the sum of all reality."
Of this view of the absolute we need only say, that it is not
qSeSewnotre" tne onty possible conception, nor is it the most rationalcon-
ception which can be taken of it. In a gross quantitative
sense, we may say that the finite, plus the so-called infinite, equals the
absolute, and that the result is in conception and in fact the unconditioned
and the infinite, because nothing can be afiirmed of it in the way of dis-
tinction or relation. But the question at once returns, Is this the absolute
and the unconditioned which the mind necessarily receives in thought and
believes in fact ? This absolute cannot be totality, for it is expressly
supplied by the mind in addition to the finite. It is required by the mind,
in order to account for and explain it. It cannot be that or require that
which it itself accounts for and explains.
There is a sense of the absolute which is equivalent to the whole of the finite
The total of jn jts several parts, with all their possible relations, including all the capacities
infinite. of development which are possible under the conditions of space and time.
This is, in fact, no infinite or absolute at all, in the sense in which it ia
required by the mind, but only the substitution in its place of the largest and most extensive
quantitative concept which the finite can permit. The dependence is that of each part upon
all the others, these others being, in like manner, dependent upon the whole combined, while
the absolute, in this sense, rises above a mere sum of parts, and becomes another expression for
the finite universe, viewed as an organic whole, and subject to necessary processes of growth
and development. Whether these processes may go on indefinitely, each preparing the way
for that which should follow ; or whether, after having accomplished a cycle, they return upon
one another, repeating themselves as they return, the conception of the absolute is the same,
viz., the whole of finite beings with limited capacities and dependences. Those who seek the
infinite and the unconditioned in this conception, substitute the finite for the true infinite.
They interchange a completed or a completable finite, which they call the absolute, for that
which is above all finite conditions.
The ahsoiute not Unconditioned and infinite cannot pertain to the relations of
tiiyf tTnef prop- quantity. Quantity, as we have already shown, is, in its
er absolute. essential nature, measurable and definite. However large may
be its continuous extent, as in spatial extension, or however great may
be its sum, as in discrete number, it is in its nature finite. The space and
time which make extension and duration possible, are not themselves
§ 691. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 655
quantities, but the conditions of quantity. They are not subject to its
relations, but they render these relations possible.
The absolute, § 69°* The absolute, again, is not a concept or entity which
ofC'mte°rior e«Ja- *s <livested of all interior relations — a something entirely one
tlons- and simple.
Those who contend that the absolute does not admit the idea of parts,
because parts imply division and relationship, are driven by a logical
necessity to the conclusion that it must be one and indivisible in parts and
relations. Hence it has been inferred that the absolute cannot be a
personal being. A person distinguishes himself from that which is not
himself, his own being from his acts, and both from their objects, whether
these be real or spiritual. His acts must be successive to one another also,
and thus be separable and distinguishable in time. All these divisible
parts and distinguishable relations are, it is urged, entirely incompatible
with the concept and reality of the absolute.
These views are held by those who deny the possibility of personality in God, as well as
by those who, like Kant, Mansel, and Hamilton, believe that God is personal, but deny that,
when conceived as personal, He can be known as an absolute Being.
It is enough to say of this view of the absolute, as has been said already, that the
absolute does not necessarily exclude the possibility of parts or relations. The absence of
necessary dependence upon the finite and the complete dependence of the infinite upon itself,
does not imply such a simplicity or oneness of being, as excludes complexness or personality.
' , L § 691. Having defined what the absolute is not, Ave proceed
The absolute, ° ° ' r
*,ta, are know- next to assert that the absolute and the infinite is Jcnowable
fcble.
by a finite mind. Not only can such a mind know that it is,
but it can know what it is.
Kant, Hamilton, and Mansel all hold that we cannot know, though we may
Views of Kant, believe that the infinite exists, simply because the conception of the infinite
Mansel. ' is not within the grasp of the finite. Kant teaches that the reason why we
cannot know the infinite, is, that our faculties of knowing both the finite and
the infinite have merely a subjective necessity and validity, and therefore we cannot trust these
results as objectively true. Moreover, if we apply them to the infinite, we are involved in
perpetual antinomies or contradictions. Our only apprehension of the absolute is, therefore,
by the practical reason, and comes in the way of a moral necessity through the categorical
imperative, which requires us to receive certain verities as true. Jacobi, Schleiermacher, and
others say, that we reach these by faith or feeling, and not by knowledge. Hamilton says that
we find ourselves impotent to know them, in consequence of the contradictions which the
attempt involves. But he expressly asserts " that the sphere of our belief is much more
extensive than the sphere of our knowledge ; and therefore, when I deny that the infinite can
by us be known, I am far from denying that by us it is, must, and ought to be believed. Thig
I have indeed anxiously evinced, both by reasoning and authority." (Letter to Calderwood.)
" Thus, by a wonderful revelation, we are thus in the consciousness of our inability to conceive
aught above the relative and finite, inspired with the belief in the existence of something
unconditioned, beyond the sphere of all comprehensible reality." (Rev.of Cousin.) It will be
noticed, that what Hamilton teaches here is not that the absolute cannot be adequately known,
but that it cannot be known at all, because it cannot be conceived. A similar doctrine
656 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §692.
was taught by Peter Browne in his Procedure and Limits of the Human Understanding, and
Things Divine and Supernatural, etc.
Of this view, by whomsoever it may be held, it is enough to say, at this point, that it is
impossible to conceive of an act of faith or belief which does not include the element oi
knowledge. Faith, or belief, may exclude definite knowledge, reasoned knowledge, etc., but it
cannot exclude some kind of intellectual apprehension. But of this more will be said here-
after.
Herbert Spencer reasons against Hamilton and Mansel, to the conclusion that we can
Herbert Spencer know that the Infinite exists, but we cannot know what it is. He contends that we can
dissents from know that it is, because, " To say that we cannot know the Absolute is, by implication,
tnese- to aflirm that there is an Absolute. In the veiy denial of our power to know what the
Absolute is, there lies hidden the assumption that it is, etc. Besides that definite con-
sciousness of which logic formulates the laws, there is also an indefinite consciousness which cannot be
formulated."— First Principles., P. I. c. iv. § 26. Spencer, it should be observed, contends that we cannot
know what it is on the grounds urged by Kant and Hamilton, viz., that knowledge, or as he would term
it, formulated knowledge, is cognizant of the finite alone. He does not explain why, in assuming that the
Absolute is, we are not compelled to know, in some sense, what it is ; why, in the indefinite consciousness
out of which the definite consciousness is evolved or formulated, there is not necessarily implied that the
one bears some relation to the other.
It deserves to be noticed, that what Spencer claims for knowledge he denies to faith. Indeed, he shuts
the door forever upon all trustworthy knowledge of* the Absolute. All our conceptions of the what must,
in his view, be forever inadequate. They are simply the best symbols which we can shape concerning
it, the growth of our individual development or of that of our age "concerning which we can only know that
while one is better than another, they are all necessarily false, because certain to be outgrown and laid
aside. It would seem that a writer who affirms this so positively of the Infinite, and of the capacities of
the human race to know it for all future time, must have, somehow, formulated the knowledge that he
expresses so positively.
It is curious to notice that Hobbes makes the same distinction between the knowledge
that and the knowledge what, though not in precisely the same meaning. " And foras-
Infinite °U ^ much as God Almighty is incomprehensible, it followeth that we can have no conception or
image of the Deity ; and consequently all his Attributes signify our inability and defect
of Power to conceive any thing concerning his nature, and not any conception of the
same, except only this, that there is a God : For the effects we acknowledge naturally, do include a power
of their producing, before they were produced; and that Power presupposeth something existent that
hath such power," etc. " And thus all that will consider may know that God is, though not what he is." —
Of Human Nature, chap. 11.
We observe that Hobbes must mean by a knowledge of the what, a complete and defined knowledge,
for he says that there is one what which we do know of God, viz., that he is the producer of all things.
The absolute § 692- Against these views, we contend that the absolute is
b^Si^magfna* knowable — that man can both know that it is and what it is.
tlon# But, first of all, we would define the sense in which it cannot
be Jcnown, either as that or what.
(a.) It cannot be known by the imagination, either as representative or
creative. The imagination can only picture that which is limited by space
and time, and which is possessed of limited powers of matter or spirit. The
absolute and infinite is not spatial or enduring, and has not the attributes
of matter or spirit, as limited by space and time. It cannot, therefore, be
either imaged or pictured. It can only be known as related to that which is
in time and space, which is material and spiritual, etc. A relation cannot
be imaged, though related finite objects can be. While, therefore, it is
necessary to use the imagination in order to know the absolute, because it
pictures the finite objects which suppose and require the infinite and abso-
§ 692. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 657
lute, the imagination cannot picture the absolute itself— i e., in any
proper or useful sense.
It would be more exact to say that the analogies between any finite objects
The proposition and the infinite are so general and attenuated, that the imagination can
qualified. render no available or efficient service by introducing the images of the
finite. It is true that, if we can know what the absolute is, we can form
some notion of it, and this we can do only by means of some relation which it holds to the
finite. It is true, also, that every relation, however general, can be imaged or illustrated by
some finite object in which it is exemplified. In other words, the infinite, to be known as a
what, must be known in some points of likeness to the finite ; but the likeness may be so very
general, and the unlikenesses or differences so numerous and striking, that the attempt to
image the one by the other will fail to produce the advantages which commonly accrue from
the process, while the finite image will suggest so many misleading and bewildering associa-
tions, as to embarrass and confuse the mind. (§ 371.)
This explains why such writers as Bishop Brown, who has been followed by Whately and
others, contend that, while there is no proper similarity, there is an analogy between the finite
and the infinite, or the human and the divine. The alleged analogy, it is obvious, is only a
more general similarity, which, so far as it goes, allows of classification and inference, but
which we are exceedingly liable to mistake and overestimate. Thus interpreted, their doc-
trine, and the cautions which it embodies, is true and salutary, and needs to be continually
brought to mind.
Thus, the absolute, if it be any thing, is a being or entity in the largest sense of the term >
that is, it is like every finite being in this one respect, that it is. But it is of no avail to
image so vague and general a notion as this by any finite being. But again, it is, as we shall
see, that on which every finite being, and the finite universe as a whole, depend for theiff
existence, and their power to act. The general relation of dependence holds between on<*
finite object and another, in the several forms of cause, reason, and constituent.
But to ima^e the relation of dependence which exists be-
Why of no use , . n . , , n . \ ,
to image the ab- tween the mnnite and the finite by the special and limited
solute
examples of it, such as exist between different limited beings,
is either superfluous or misleading. The relation may be known as so
general, like that of simple entity, as not to need an example ; or the use
of an example introduces many extraneous and unimportant circumstances,,
which are yet conceived as essential to the relation in question. Thus,
when it is reasoned that self-existence, personality, the creation of another
than itself, the possession of a complex nature — one or all, are incompatible
with the true infinite and unconditioned, the reasoning is founded on the
attempted exemplification of the infinite by the finite, and on the unessen-
tial accessories which the image presents. Logically expressed, it is a case'
of fallacia accidentis.
The antinomies of Kant and the essential contradictions of Hamilton, each of which secm<
The antinomies necessary to the mind, and each of which exclude the other, are all made by the mind-
of Kant and itself in the attempt to illustrate the infinite by the finite. The antinomies of Kant
Hamilton. are incompatibilities between an image and a relation which the image exemplifies, ot
between two images adduced to illustrate different relations, or between two concept*
which are not both necessary to the mind. The solution of them is to be found in a re-statement of th«
42
G58 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 693.
conceptions between which these incompatibilities are said to exist. Thus, for example, in the alleged an-
tinomy involved in the propositions the world is in time and space and is neither finite nor infinite ; the con-
tradiction lies between a fact or image borrowed from perception and experience and an alleged a priori
necessity. But the incompatibility of the one with the other arises from a misconception of what is involved
in our conception of the infinite, a confounding of the extended in space with space itself. "When Hamilton
says we must conceive of space as a bounded or not bounded sphere, he introduces the image of an object
existing in space and limited in space, in order to illustrate space itself, and confounds the one with the
other. To introduce the image of an extended object in order to show that space exists and holds some
relation to every extended object is legitimate, but to substitute the limited, i. e. an extended object, for
the true unlimited, i. e. the space which makes extension possible, and then to be embarrassed by the in-
compatibilities of our own creation, is to fall into the very serious error of confounding the image with the
notion (the Anschauung with the Begriff), against which Hamilton expressly cautions his pupils.
The absolute, § 693. We observe still further, (b.) that the absolute, etc.,
atauce^OTio^ though knowable, is not a notion that is the product of
caiiy defined. reasoning, inductive or deductive, or can be defined in a
system of logical classification.
It cannot be inferred by induction, because, as has been shown, it is
assumed in the very process of induction, as its necessary condition.
Induction has no meaning and no validity, unless we assume that the
universe is constituted in such a way as to presuppose an absolute and
unconditioned originator of its forces and laws.
It cannot be deduced by syllogistic reasoning, because, as has been
shown, all deduction rests either on the previous process of induction, or
on the intuitions of time and space. But induction requires the absolute
as its condition.
]N"or can the concept be denned for the ends of logical classification.
The infinite is not properly coordinate with the finite, for the reason that
it must be assumed as the ground of all such classification. Every notion
or concept of every finite existence implies the unconditioned, and holds
fcome relation to it, but these relations are not therefore used in defining
the notion for logical or scientific ends. The relations of substance and
attribute, as used in such definition and classification, are applicable only
to objects, which are dependent for their existence and their relations on
the fixed conditions of finite being. They imply the presence of time and
space relations, and the limitation of the powers of created beings by the
laws which are determined by these relations. The cause and effect, the
adaptations and ends, which logic usually recognizes in its operations, are
fixed in a similar manner by settled forces and laws.'
Again : the unconditioned and the absolute cannot be called a summum genus, under
which are ranged the various ranks of the conditioned and the limited. It holds certain
common relations to every species, but these relations are not generic. Space is not generic
to all extended objects, though it is essential to the conception and reality of all. Time is not
generic to enduring objects, though it is the condition of them all. God is not a mere
$ummum genus — a highest abstraction, including all finite beings under itself— though lie is
the necessary ground of the existence of each and of all.
The so-called categories — i. e., generic relations which are supreme and final in scientific
definition and classification— cannot be applied to the infinite, because the infinite is required
§694. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 659
and assumed for the explanation of these very categories. These categories rest upon th*
infinite, and presuppose it.
The absolute the § ®®^' ^e nex^ anirin positively that the absolute is and
un7te!ate °f the can ^e known as the correlate which must be necessarily
assumed to explain and account for the finite universe.
If the absolute is necessary to explain the finite, then it holds some
relations to it. If it is its correlate, it must be connected with it by some
relations. What these relations are, it is not needful to inquire. All that
we need here to urge, is, that it is so far from being true, because it is
absolute, it is not related, that, on the contrary, it cannot be the absolute
without being known as related. We cannot know that it is, without
knowing, to a certain degree, what it is. If it is necessary to the mind
to assume the absolute in order to explain the finite, then the finite is cer-
tainly explained by these relations which it holds to the absolute. These
relations must be real, else our knowledge is a fiction. They must be
capable of expression in language. The relations between the finite and
the infinite need not, of course, be the same as those which exist between
the finite and the finite, but they must be real and cognizable relations.
We have already shown that the categories required for scientific knowledge
Of course related cannot be applied to the infinite, but it does not follow that there may not
be other relations which may be applied to it. Whether these have not also
some possible application to the finite, deserves a question. It would seem
that, if this were not the case, then the language which we apply to the finite could not, with
any meaning, be applied to the infinite. Substance and attributes, the first as permanent
under the fixed constitution of things, and the second as defining classes and species under
this constitution, are not applicable to the self-existent originator of the finite ; but being and
action are applicable to both, though the concrete to which they are applied is, in the one
case, far more full in import and superior in dignity than in the other. A self-existent being
is a being as truly and far more eminently than a dependent being, but both are beings. He
has powers no less really than the beings whose existence he not only originates, but whose
capacities to act he imparts. To originate, to produce, or to create, are functions which are
affirmable of one who originates his own existence and his very power to act, as truly as of
one whose power to produce or to act is originated by another.
It is not philosophical to assert that, when we affirm a relation of the infinite,
Relations do not we must connect with it all those limitations which pertain to a similar rela-
tioD. " tion in the finite. This would be the same as to say that there can be no
likeness where there is a difference, which is equivalent to asserting that
there can be no generalization at all. We need not carry over to the infinite the misleading
images which belong to the finite, nor the delusive associations which pertinaciously adhere to
it ; but to deny that there are relations which are common to the two, is to deny that we can
know the infinite at all. To say, with Herbert Spencer, that we cannot believe in a Creator,
because if we do, we must conceive of Him as a carpenter, working with tools and upon mate-
rials provided, and to dispose of the belief in creative energy, by the phrase, the carpenter
theory, is to betray some ignorance of generalization, if not more serious defects in respect
of both taste and fairness. Even an " indefinite consciousness " that the infinite is, must
Involve some knowledge of its relations.
660 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 696.
§ 695. The apprehension of the absolute is knowledge, and
The absolute ap- . . , _ T .
prehended by not faith or feeling.
Hamilton opposes the one to the other, as faith to knowl
edge, because he affirms that to know is always "to condition;" and
therefore if we know the unconditioned, we must condition the uncon-
ditioned, and limit the infinite. His doctrine is, that 'we believe the
infinite, but do not know it to be. The sphere of our faith, is wider than
the sphere of our knowledge.' But to know as related, is not the same as
to condition in the special meaning in which the unconditioned and the
infinite are opposed to the conditioned and the finite. The knowledge of
the unconditioned may be & priori, intuitive, and necessary, but it is
knowledge nevertheless. It may be higher than any reasoned or logically
defined knowedge, but it is still knowledge.
To call it faith, in any but a purely technical and private sense of the word, is to put it
out of all relation to knowledge. To contrast it with knowledge in the essential characteristics
of knowledge, is to weaken the very foundations on which both knowledge and science are
made to rest. Especially is this the case, if this so-called faith is referred to an impotence of
the intellect, and is made to depend on the conscious imbecility and known limitations of th«
powers. This is so far from being true, that, to know in this way, is to know in the highes'
sense possible to the mind. For if we cannot assume the infinite, we can neither define no -
reason the finite. Without the intuition of the unconditioned, it is impossible to have am
grounded science of the conditioned.
8 696. But though we have a real and proper knowledge of
Not known ex- f ° r r ton
haustiveiy or the absolute, we can by no means have an adequate and ex-
haustive, or what is often called an absolute knowledge of it.
But this forms no objection to the reality of this knowledge. Indeed, an
absolute knowledge, even of the finite, is only ideally conceivable, but, in fact,
impossible. An absolute knowledge of all the relations of an individual
object — e. g., a mass of rock, a tree, an animal, or a man, implies a com-
plete mastery of all the relations which each holds to every other object
in the universe, in respect to its properties and ends — in other words, an
exhaustive knowledge of the universe itself. The most sagacious and
widely-reaching philosopher does not pretend to have attained such knowl-
edge. He does not believe even, that the assembled knowledge of all
the students of matter and spirit represents such a mastery over the
knowable. He does not pretend to an exhaustive knowledge even of the
general properties and laws which constitute and rule the universe. He
knows, concerning this universe, that there is much that is knowable
which is not yet known. How does he know this ? Does the fact that it
is ideally knowable, prove that it will be actually known ? Does the fact
that these relations are ideally finite prove that they will, in fact, ever be
mastered by any finite intellect ? If not, then, in the finite there is to
man the as yet unmastered and perhaps the unmasterable ; and that is to
him the infinite.
§ 699. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 661
For man, the unexhausted finite must ever be as the infinite. But the fact that
The finite uni- ^e knowg the finite in part, is not inconsistent with the proposition that he
verse infinite to r ' , ,.„.,.
our knowledge. knows it in truth. Nor ought the fact that he knows the infinite but in part,
to be used to show that, so far as he knows it, he does not know it as it is
To man there is, in both finite and infinite, a background always unexplored. Perhaps in the
nnite it never can be explored by man. If so, then, even the finite is as the infinite to him.
The limited forest, into the mazes of which the child has not yet penetrated, the shallow
abyss the depths of which he has not ventured to sound, are to him the symbol of infinitude
So is the universe, finite though it be, as yet infinite to the philosopher, boast though he mav
of absolute knowledge, or reject though he will the possibility of an infinite which is placeo
forever beyond the mastery of every finite intellect.
self- existence § 69^- ^n both finite and infinite, there is a common mys-
finTte °and° the tei7> which cannot be overcome, and that is the mystery of
infinita self-existence. Whether we transform the finite into the so-
called infinite, by making of its powers and capacities of self-development
an ideal absolute without intelligence or personality, or whether we accept
as the real absolute a rational person, either must be self-existent. It does
not relieve the mystery, to accept the fact of self-evolved and self-evolving
forces and laws ; nor does it increase it, to accept the fact of a self-existent
creating intelligence whom we assume to explain the order and thought of
the finite universe.
Self-existence is as inexplicable when it is divided and diffused among the separate
integers of a countless multitude of mutually developed and dependent forces, beings, and
laws, as when it is gathered and centered into one thinking and acting person. Indeed, self-
existence, and not personality or intelligence, constitutes the real mystery as it emphasizes the
peculiar import of the absolute and the unconditioned. If, then, we must accept a self-existent
rtbsolute, if we know that it is, and can know in a degree what it is, the inquiry returns, What
Absolute must we assume, and on what grounds do we assume that it is ? To this we reply :
§ 698. The absolute is a thinking agent. The universe is a
SdnkS^nt3, thought as well as a thing. As fraught with design, it reveals
thought as well as force. The thought includes the origina-
tion of the forces and their laws, as well as the combination and use of
them. These thoughts must include the whole universe ; it follows then
that the universe is controlled by a single thought, or the thought of an
individual thinker. If gravitation everywhere prevails, and gravitation is
a thought as well as a thing, then the universe, so far as it depends on and
is affected by gravitation, is a single thought. But a thought implies a
thinking agent, and if the universe is a single thought, it was thought by
one thinking agent. That this thinking person should be self-existent, is,
as we have seen, no greater mystery than a self-existent thing.
Must be assumed § 699- We assume that this absolute exists, in order that
thoiigntXandasc£ thought and science may be possible. We do not demonstrate
ence- his being by deduction, because we must believe it in order
to reason deductively. We do not infer it by induction, because indue-
662 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §099
tion supposes it ; but we show that every man. who believes in either, or in
both, must assume it, or give up his confidence in both these processes and
their results. We do not demonstrate that God exists, but that every man
must assume that He is. We analyze the several processes of knowledge
into their underlying assumptions, and we find that the assumption which
underlies them all is a self-existent intelligence, who not only can be
known by man, but must be known by man in order that man may know
any thing besides. In analyzing a psychological process, we develop and
demonstrate a metaphysical truth, and that is the truth which the un-
sophisticated intellect of child and man requires and accepts, that there is
a self-existent personal intelligence, on whom the universe depends for the
beings and relations of which it consists. We are not alone justified,
we are compelled to conclude our analysis of the human intellect with the
assertion, that its various powers and processes suppose and assume that
there is an uncreated thinker, whose thoughts can be interpreted by the
human intellect which is made in His image.
But it may be asked, If there is an unconditioned person, what are space and time ? Are
these also infinite and unconditioned ? If so, are there not three infinities, each independent
of the other in certain relations, while each, in other respects, limits the other ? If this be
so, there is no single unconditioned, but time, space, and God taken together form the abso-
lute when combined in one as mutally dependent. This, it might be urged, involves a sort
of Pantheism, which is logical, if not material ; a Pantheism which limits the thoughts and
plans of God, if not His creative activity, by the fixed conditions of space and time.
We reply : Time and space are, as has been shown, not limited or finite, as are extended
matter and enduring spirit. In so far, they are infinite in the sense explained. Moreover,
they must be assumed as the correlates which condition the possibility of all finite and created
being (§ 582) ; with respect to these they are themselves unconditioned. But we have shown
(§ 689) that the proper unconditioned and absolute do not pertain to relations of quantity,
though it may be described by them (§ 168), but that it describes absolute independence for
existence and the power to act. We know too little of time and space to assert that, in any
such relation, they are independent of God. They are used as the means of measuring His
acts, of regulating the mightiest agents which He creates, and of manifesting many of His
most comprehensive designs (§ 629). They are made the actual condition of finite being, in
any and every form. We may say of time and space that they are as truly the thoughts of
God, as the powers which they measure and control. If we cannot bring them under the
categories of created being for the reasons already given (§ 585), we have no reason to ascribe
to them self-existence, but may certainly know that whatever they are, they do not share in
that independent self-existence which we ascribe to Him alone who is the living and true God.
INDEX.
Abbot, T. K., Review of Berkeley's Theory of
Vision, 165.
Abelard, doctrine of universals, 406.
Absolute, (see Infinite ;) original meaning of, 650 ;
tbe Hegelian sense, do. ; used in the concrete
and abstract, 650.
Abstract thinking, 384 ; concepts, 394.
Abstraction, 389.
Acquired sense-perceptions, chapter on, 153-177;
examples of, 158; defined, 159; importance of,
159 ; many gained very early, 159 ; of smell and
hearing, 160 ; of sight, 161 ; of distance, of mag-
nitude, 161, 2 ; of size, 162 ; mistaken judgments
of both, 163 ; of percepts appropriate to touch,
163, 4 ; of place of sensations, 166 ; of control of
. bodily motions, 166, 7 ; provisions for, 167, 8 ; how-
controlled, 1C8-1 70 ; involve memory, 173, and
induction, do.; infants capable of such induc-
tions, 174, 5 ; objections, 175, 6, from the case of
animals, 166, 7 ; of percepts of eye and hand, 186 ;
other acquisitions of the infant, 189.
Activity of the soul, essential to its nature, 23 ; essen-
tial to knowledge, 61 ; in sense-perception, chapter
on, 210-220; is attested by consciousness, 211;
varies in energy, 211, 2 ; success depends on at-
tention, 212 ; differs in different men, 212, 3 ;
shown in innervation of organs, 213 ; directed
to different objects, 214 ; selects and combines,
214 ; separates single objects in infancy, 215 ;
continued througb life, 216 ; illustrated in dif-
ferent men, 217 ; a limited activity, 21S ; easily
performed, do.
Adaptation, 517 ; how related to design, do.
Esthetics, its relations to psychology, 14.
Agassiz, on species, 426 ; on classification, 492.
Albertus Magnus, on universals, 406.
Analogy of nature, 472.
Analysis, involved in knowledge, 67.
Analytical reasoning in mathematics, 454.
Anthropology, defined, 7 ; subdivided, do. ; assumes
final cause, 634.
Antinomies of Kant, and Hamilton 564, 5.
Apperception, 85, 6.
Aristotle, view of life, 29 ; division of powers of the
soul, 49; theory of sense-perception, 224; enu-
meration of laws of association, 276 ; on univer-
sals, 404, 5 ; regarded the middle term as causal,
451 ; fourfold division of causes, 593 ; on primary
and secondary qualities, 637.
Arnauld, theory of sense-perception, 229.
Association of ideas, 253, 4 ; chapter on, 270-300 ;
other terms for, 270 ; importance and mystery
of, do. ; method of discussion, 271 ; division of,
do.; not explained by bodily organization, 272 ;
defect of all physiological explanations, 273 ;
actual influence of the body, do. ; exercised by
means of psychical states, 274 ; vital sensations
may act as links of association, 274, 5 ; ideas do
not attract one another, 275 ; crude statements
of Hobbes and others, 275, 6 ; relations do not
attract ideas, 276; relations stated as three,
seven, two, and one, 276, 7 ; law of redintegra-
tion, 279 ; how far satisfactory 279, 80 ; objec-
tion, 281, 2 ; the real solution, 282 ; explains
phenomena, 282-5; associations with sensible
objects, 283 ; of home, 234 ; relations of acquisi-
tion and reproduction the same, 285, 6 ; sec-
ondary laws of association defined and named,
286; discussed, 286-8; apparent exceptions to,
288 ; Hobbes' often-quoted illustration, do. ;
two theories in explanation, 289; capable of
interruption and control, 290, 1 ; not the only
power of the soul, 291, 2 ; indirectly controlled,
292 ; relation to habits, question concerning,
293 ; higher and lower laws of, 296 ; prevalence
of higher, do. ; of lower, 297 ; casual associa-
tions, 298 ; in changes of fashions, do. ; the
moral influence of, do. ; influence on language,
299 ; on philosophy, do.
Associational psychology, 56-59; prominent wri-
ters, 55 ; explanation of necessary truths, 57 ;
fundamental error, do.; usually materialistic,
58 ; Herbart's relation to, do.
Associational school, their views of intuitions, 520.
Astronomy, discoveries in, 476, 7.
Atomists' explanation of life, 29.
Attention defined, 69 ; beginnings of, 180, 181 ; Stew-
art's theory, 207 ; can be given to two objects
at once, 208 ; objections, 208 ; is the utmost at-
tention possible to more than one 1 209.
Attribute, relations most frequently used, 195 ; sen-
sations so used, do. ; etymology and meaning of,
621 ; in the abstract, 623 ; material, indicate but
do not constitute matter, 630.
Auxiliary lines in geometry, 460, 1.
Axioms, mathematical, 458; Analytical and synthet-
ical, 459; geometrical question concerning, 459k.
Bacon, services for induction, 494 ; on final cause,
603 ; just interpretation of his views, do.
Bailey, S., review of Berkeley's theory of vision,
165.
664
INDEX.
Bain, A., an associationalist, 56.
Being, correlate of knowledge, 64 ; variety of, do. ;
some more lasting and important, do. ; con-
trasted with phenomenon, do. ; one kind mistak-
en for another, do. ; not known apart from rela-
tions, 66 ; category of, 526 ; fundamental in what
sense, 527 ; different sorts of, do. ; known in dif-
ferent ways, do. ; the most abstract, do. ; how
explained, do. ; concrete known first, 528 ;
knowledge of, expressed in propositions, 528 ; not
a relation, do. ; cannot he defined, do. ; treated
as an attribute, 529 ; indeterminate, do. ; both
spiritual and material, directly known, 636.
Bern's mnemonics, 323.
Beneke, consciousness of ego, 94 ; views of repeated
sense-perceptions, 292.
Berkeley's view of sensation, 129 ; theory of vision
reviewed, 165, 6 ; theory of sense-perception,
232, 3 ; doctrine of the concept, 408.
Biran, de, M., consciousness of ego ; theory of sense-
perception, 242 ; views of intuitions, 521 ; theory
of causation, 583-586 ; concerns the origin and
universality of the relation, 583, 4; how far
correct, 584, 5.
Black's, Dr., discovery of carbonic acid gas, 475.
Blind, the, when restored to sight, 163-165 ; how they
judge of form, size, etc., 165 ; the reports of,
critically noticed, 191, 2.
Bodily organism, 123, 4.
Boethius, on universals, 405.
Bonnet, theory of vibration, 272.
Boweh, Prof. Francis, on causation, 586.
Brain, the organ of the soul, 56.
Brown, Dr. T., denies consciousness of ego, 94 ; ad-
mits it, 96 ; theory of tactual and other sensa-
tions, 150 ; theory noticed, 184; theory of sense-
perception, 235 ; of the nature of the concept,
409 ; of intuitions, 520, 1 ; theory of causation,
575.
Buxton, Sir T. F., advice on memory, 321.
Carneades, illustration of association, 276.
Categories. (See Intuition.)
Causation, 517; and causality, chapter on, 569-592 ;
as a principle and law distinguished, 570 ; the
principle of, intuitively evident, 572 ; reasons
for, 572, 3 ; resolved into a time-relation, 574-
578 ; by Hume, 574 ; by Brown, 575 ; by J. S.
Mill, 576 ; not a relation of time, 578 ; Hamil-
ton's tabular view of theories of, 579 ; not ex-
plained by induction, 579 ; nor by association,
580 ; not gained by experience, inner or outer,
581 ; Locke's views, do. ; relations of, to those of
Mill and Hume, 582 ; views of K. Collard and M.
de Biran, 582 ; theory of de Biran, 583, 4 ; two
positions of, 583, 4 ; how far correct, 584-586 ;
denied to matter, 586 ; Prof. Bowen's view, do. ;
reasons against, 587 ; denied to created spirits,
588 ; MaLebranche, do. ; theories d priori, 588-
692 ; explained by law of contradiction, 588 ;
Wolf, Kant, Hegel, etc., 588, 9 ; Hamilton's ex-
planation by the law of the conditioned, 589,
iqq. : Mansel's version of, 590 ; both related to
Xant, do. ; objections to, 591 ; divided into for-
mal, material, efficient, and final, 592 ; conclu-
sion, true doctrine of, 592.
Cause distinguished from condition, 570.
Cerebralists. (See Cerebral Psychology.)-
Cerebral Psychology, 545 ; repeated, do. ; supposea
consciousness, 55.
Clarke, S., definition of space and time, 557.
Classification, how arises, 397 ; by children and sav-
ages, 398 ; in science, 398, 9 ; relations to know-
ledge, 400 ; significance of, 401 ; assumes final
cause, 608.
Coleridge, S. T., view of philosophical consciousness,
111, 2 ; on the arts of memory, 323.
Complex notions, 395.
Comte, A., views of Psychology, 51; contempt for
final cause, 604.
Concept, formation of, chapter on, 388-403 ; of mate-
rial objects, 338 ; when it begins, do. ; similarity
discerned, do. ; involves analysis, 389 ; attributes
distinguished, do. ; called abstraction, do. ; to pre-
scind, do. ; comparison, do. ; generalization, do. ;
predication,390 ; assumes substance and attribute,
390 ; appellations concept, 391 ; and notion, do. ;
not a percept, do. ; nor an image, 392 ; relative,
do. ; a mental product, do. ; universal, do. ; predi-
cate, do. ; why symbolic, 393 ; more than a name,
do.; respects attributes only, do. ; concrete and
abstract, 394 ; simple and complex, 395 ; content
and extent, 396 ; mutual relations of the two,
397 ; how far they add to knowledge, 400 ; vary-
ing import of, 402 ; theories of nature of, chapter
on, 403-418 ; Socrates and Plato on, 403 ; Aris-
totle, 404; Porphyry, Boethius, the Realists,
Nominalists, and Conceptualists, Eric of Au-
xerre, Boscellinus, 405 ; "William of Cbampeaux,
Abelard, Albertus Magnus, Thomas Aquinas,
Duns Scotus, "William of Occam, 406 ; Thomas
Hobbes, 407 ; John Locke, G. W. Leibnitz, Geo.
Berkeley and D. Hume, 408 ; T. Beid and D.
Stewart, Dr. T. Brown, Sir W. Hamilton, 408 ; J.
S. Mill, 410 ; H. Spencer, I. Kant, J. G. Fichtc,
411 ; Hegel, Herbart, 412 ; nature of, chapter
on, 413-420; distinguished from the act, 413;
implies substance and attribute, do. ; is relative,
414 ; founded on similarity, do. ; leads to names,
415 ; classifies, do. ; gives import to names, 416 ;
the import explained by individuals, do. ; refer-
able to an image, 417 ; does not allow inconsis-
tent elements, 418 ; very general concepts most
need to be imaged, 419 ; value of names for, 419
-422; formed by judgment, 430; how related to
it, 432 ; in mathematics, 458 ; of space and time
objects, 550 ; mathematical, 551 ; of geometry,
551 ; of number, 552 ; of space and time, 558 ;
formed by final cause, 607.
Conceptualists, the, 405 ; strife adjusted, 417.
Concrete thinking, 384 ; concepts, 394.
Condillac and school, on consciousness of ego, 94 ;
on the origin of knowledge, 520.
Condillac, theory of sense-perception, 240.
Conditioned. (See Infinite.)
Consciousness, and natural consciousness, chaptej
on, 83-102; denned, 83 ; extends to acts and
states, do.; applied to the power and acts, 83, 4;
INDEX.
665
applied to any act of knowledge, 84 ; a collective
term for all the intellectual states, 84 ; meta-
phorical uses of, 84 ; proper meaning, 85 ; called
inner sense, do. ; called apperception, do.; Ger-
man equivalent for, 86 ; called reflection, 86 ;
exercised in two forms, 87 ; the two defined, 87,
8 ; natural consciousness as an act, 88 ; an act
of knowledge, do. ; results in a. product, 89 ; is
sui generis, do. ; peculiarity in language, 90 ; con-
sciousness, the object, 90, 1 ; object complex, 91 ;
elements threefold, 91 ; relations to one an-
other, 91, 2 ; Herbart's doctrine of, 92 ; elements
not regarded with equal attention, 93 ; the ac-
tivity an object, 93 ; also the ego, 93 ; 95, 6 ;
different views, 93, 4, 5 ; proof that we are con-
scious of the ego, 95, 6 ; unconscious admissions,
96 ; are we conscious of objects 1 96, 7 ; summary
of doctrine of consciousness, 97, 8 ; object of c.
a condition of being, 98; Descartes' doctrine, 98;
consciousness does not create the state it knows,
99 ; c. involves all the categories, 99 ; develop-
ment and growth of c, 100 ; exercised more or
less completely in different persons, 102 ; capacity
for, not developed, 102 ; not a product of circum-
stances, 102 ; latent modifications of, 103 ; capa-
ble of degrees, 103 ; Leibnitz's doctrine of, 103, 4 ;
philosophical or reflective, 104 ; characterized by
attention, 104, 5 ; the morbid consciousness in
children, hypochondriacs, etc., 105 ; egoistic con-
sciousness, 106 ; ethical type, do. ; in the re-
flective, attention is persistent, 106 ; comprehen-
sive, 107, 8 ; comparative and classifying, 108 ;
interpretive, do. ; searches for conditions and
laws, 109 ; relations to natural consciousness,
109 ; imparts new knowledge, 110 ; in what sense,
do.; Coleridge's view of the two, 111 ; relations
of language to each, 112 ; does not create phe-
nomena, do. ; dangers from exact terminology,
112 ; psychology, tried by the language of
common life, 113, 4 ; by the actions, 114 ; condi-
tions of the successful interpretation of both, 114,
5 ; why men are so positive in their philosophical
opinions, 115 ; explains slow progress of psycho-
logy, 115, 6; explains difficulties in studying
Conservative faculty. (See Memory.)
psychology, 117, 8.
Content, of notion, 395 ; of mathematical concepts,
457.
Contradiction, law of, 535.
Copernicus, discovery, 477.
Copula, force of, 433-5.
Correlation of forces, 556.
Cousin, consciousness of ego, 94 ; on origin of know-
ledge, 504 ; views of intuition, 521.
Critical or speculative stage of knowledge, 72-74.
Cuvier's researches, assumed final cause, 596.
Dalton's discovery of chemical equivalents, 475.
Dana, on species, 426.
Darwin, on species, 426 ; seems to exclude final
cause, 604 ; but really assumes it, 634.
Davy's discovery, 475.
Deaf mutes, reason why they cannot speak, 169;
form concepts without language.
Deduction, chapter on, 439-453 ; how related to in«
duction, 441, 2 ; how to be treated, 443 ; our in-
quiry, 443 ; its two forms, 443 ; is not explained
by the dictum de omni et nullo, 448 ; but rests on
the relation of reason to consequent, 449 ; this
rests on causation, 450 ; varieties of, chapter on,
454-469 ; various classes of, 454, 5 ; distinguished
from the process of preparation, 465, 6 ; does it
add to cur knowledge 1 457, 8.
Definition, 395 ; in mathematics, 457.
Democritus, theory of sense-perception, 223.
Descartes, cogito, ergo sum, 93 ; theory of sense-per-
ception, 226 ; on the mind's constant activity,
334 ; on innate ideas, 519 ; on final cause, 603 ;
on primary and secondary qualities, 637.
Descartes, view of life, 30.
Design, or final cause, chapter on, 592-619 ; (see Final
Cause ;) how related to adaptation, 593 ; alon3
explains permanent substance, 635 ; required to
explain development, 636.
Development, of the intellect explained, 70 ; order
and stages of, 73, 4 ; of consciousness, stages of,
100, 1 ; of sense-perception, 178-192 ; of vision,
186.
Dianoetic faculty, 81.
Dictum de omni et nullo, 44S ; does not entirely ex-
plain the syllogism, 448.
Diogenes of Apollonia, theory of sense-perception,
222.
Discovery and Invention, the conditions of, 487-494 ;
attention, 487, 8 ; familiarity, 488 ; constructive
imagination, 489 ; wise judgment, 491 ; reference
to Divine mind, 492 ; ready deduction, 493 ; ex-
periment, 493 ; Lord Bacon's services in respect
to, 493.
Diversity or otherness, relation of, 539 ; proposition
expressing it, do. ; relation to negation, do.
Division of the concept, 397.
Dreams, and dreaming, 299-333; dreams, the soul ac-
tive constantly, 333, '4 ; opinions of Descartes, eta,
334 ; the soul acts with feeble energy, do. ; with
varying energy, do.; representative power ac-
tive, do. ; irregular, 335 ; the judgment feeble,
do. ; the reasoning power, 336 ; consciousness
feeble, 337 ; estimates of time in, do.; moral re-
sponsibility in, 338 ; the emotions in, do. ; the
activity of the will in, do.; Dugald Stewart
on, 339.
Dugald Stewart. (See Stewart.)
Duns Scotus, on universals, 406.
Duration, how related to the soul's acts, 539 ; ap-
plied to two objects, 540; relations of, do.; void,
541 ; relations to extension, 541 ; transferred
to material acts, 542 ; measures of, whence de-
rived, do. ; language of, 543; how related to
time, 562 ; affirmed of events, but not of time,
564.
Ego, the, known in consciousness, 93-96 ; denied by
many, 94, 5 ; not psychical substance, 96 ; distin
guished from the self, 101 ; 110, 111-
Elaborative faculty, 81.
Empedocles, theory of sense-perception, 222.
Enthymeme, the, 443.
666
INDEX.
Eric of Auxcrre, doctrine of concept, 405.
Error, possible of relations only, 64, 5 ; of the senses
belong to the acquired sense-perceptions, 171 ;
two classes of, 171, 2.
Essence, real, and nominal, 434.
Essence, the real, misconceived ; explained, 632.
Ethics, its relation to psychology, 13 ; assumes final
cause, 615.
Event, defined, 570 ; different classes of, 570, 1.
Excluded middle, law of, 546.
Extended objects limited, 561.
Extension known in perception, 132 ; by touch in the
concrete, 147 ; in vision superficial only, 155 ; ex-
tra organic, how acquired, 1S2 ; known in sense-
perception, 537 ; blended with matter, do. ; the
several relations of, 538 ; relations to duration,
541 ; related to space, 562 ; limits objects, 563 ;
affirmed of objects not of space, 564.
Extent, of notion denned, 296 ; of mathematical con-
cepts, 458.
Externality, known in perception, 131 ; in touch,
149 ; two meanings of, 150 ; of the body to the
soul, 150; of one body to another, 151; extra
organic, how acquired, 182, 3.
Eye, the structure of, 152, 3 ; single objects seen
with two eyes, 166 ; dignity of, 157, 8.
Faculties of the intellect, how conceived, 75, 6;
leading faculties named, 77 ; severally defined,
77-80.
Faculties of the soul, 40-51 ; the soul, not parts or
organs, 41 ; often so misconceived, do. ; do not
act apart, do. ; grounds of belief in, 42-44 ; states
like and unlike ; 42 ; one dependent on another,
do. ; distinguishable by a prominent element,
do. ; differently related to the ego, act, and ob-
ject, 44 ; more obvious than powers of matter,
44, 5 ; why called human, 45 ; not independent,
46 ; relations of, important in education, 46 ;
history of doctrine of, 49 ; synonyms for, 50.
Fainting. Sec Phantasy.
Fichte, J. G., on the nature of the concept, 411 ; on
the categories, 525-657.
Final cause, chapter on, 592-019; terms explained,
division of causes, 592, 3 ; the relation discerned
d priori, 504 ; compared with efficient causation,
do. ; reasons for the position, 594-599 ; the mind
seeks this relation, 595 ; acknowledges it to be
higher, do. ; explains organic phenomena, 597 ;
conspicuous in the highest order of beings, 599 ;
does not displace efficient causes, do. ; objections
to the position, 599-607 ; men mistake, 599 ; they
cannot test their inductions, 600 ; the relation
subjective only, 601 ; involves two principles,
602 ; hinders discovery, 603 ; Bacon and Des-
cartes on, do. ; adaptations are necessary con-
ditions only, do. ; limited, 605, 6 ; cannot be as-
cribed to an unlimited Being, 606 ; application
of the principle, 607-619 ; in metaphysics, 607 ;
in induction, do. ; in the formation of concepts,
do. ; in classification, 608 ; in the notion of an
individual, do. ; as a rule of truth, 609 ; in
mathematics, do. / in geology and paleontology,
610; inphil. geography, 611 ; in comp. anatomy,
do. ; in physiology, 612 ; in anthropology, 634 J
in psychology, 614; in ethics, 615 ; in theology,
616 ; two classes of theories of God, do; reasons
for accepting a personal God, 617-619.
Finite and the Infinite, (see Infinite) ; and condition*
ed, the, chapter on, 645-662 ; result of processes
of knowledge, 645 ; the finite universe how con-
ceived, 646 ; is limited and conditioned, 647.
First principles. (See Intuition.)
First truths. (See Intuition.)
Forgetfulness. (See Memory.)
Forgotten knowledge restored. (See Memory.)
Formal cause, 592, 3.
Formal categories, 514; chapter ou, 526-536.
Formal relations or categories, chapter on, 526-533.
Forms, of thought and being, 383 ; of knowledge,
Kant and Hamilton error, concerning, 629.
Franklin's discovery of electricity, 474, 5.
Functions of the soul defined, 51.
Galileo, discovery by, 477.
Gassendi, theory of sense-perception, 226 ; illustra-
tion of memory, 310.
Generalization, 389.
Geography, Phil., assumes final cause, 601.
Geology, assumes final cause, 610.
Geometrical reasoning, (see Mathematical quanti-
ties) ; constructions of, 359 ; figures, construction
of, 460 ; quantities measurable, 461 ; reasoning,
example of, 462 , concepts, how formed, 551 ; rests
on what assumptions, 552 ; postulates of, 552.
George, L., resolves sensations into nerve vibrations,
126.
Geulincx, theory of sense-perception, 228.
God, man the image of, 99 ; belief in, assumed in all
scientific knowledge, 662.
Goodyear, discovery, 490.
Habit, relation to association, 293 ; theory of, 294;
often supposes a difficulty, do. ; bodily, do. ;
mental, 394, 5 ; emotional, 295.
Hallucinations, 260; case of Nicolai, 349; net
purely physical, 350 ; how explained, do.
Hamilton, Sir AYm., division of faculties, 49 ; doc-
trine of knowledge, 65 ; consciousness of Ego,
94; consciousness of objects of knowledge, 97;
theory of extra-organic perception, 184; theory
of sense-perception. 236 ; doctrine of latent modi-
fications, 289 ; on the imagination, 357 ; on the
nature of the concept, 410 ; Hamilton's dictum
of the syllogism, 446 ; appellations for intuitions,
509 ; on origin of knowledge, 504 ; on intuitions
and categories, 523 ; positive and negative ne-
cessity, 523 ; table of theories of causation, 579 ;
theory of causation by law of the conditioned,
589, sqq. ; relation to Kant. 590 ; objections to,
591 ; follows Kant in respect to forms of knowl-
edge, 629 ; of primary, secondary, and secundo-
primary qualities, 638, 9 ; on the real and
phenomenal, 642 ; negative thinking, 652 ; oa
the Infinite, 654, 5 ; antinomies, 657, 8.
Hartley, theory of vibrations, 272.
Harvey's discovery prompted by final cause, 596.
Hauscr, Casper, how the world looked to, 190.
INDEX.
66'
Hearing, sense-perceptions of, 140-143 ; organ, 140 ;
varieties, how far distinguishable, 141 ; condi-
tion of language, 142 ; expresses feeling, do. ;
dignity, 143 ; acquired perceptions of, 160.
Hegel, method of psychology, 59, 60 ; on the nature
of the concept, 412 ; on the categories, 525 ; be-
ing equals nothing, 529; error, 532; misuse
of law of identity, 536 ; on causation, 589 ; on
the absolute, 650.
Heraclitus, theory of sense-perception, 222.
Herbart, doctrine of faculties, 49, 50 ; relation to
associational psychology, 53 ; doctrine of con-
sciousness, 92, 3 ; consciousness of ego, 94, 5 ;
views of repetition in perception, 202 ; theory of
sense-perception, 245 ; doctrine of association,
276 ; on the nature of the concept, 412; on the
categories, 526.
Herbert Spencer, (see Spencer,) doctrine of neces-
sary truths, 57.
Hilaire, St. &., on final cause, 604.
Hobbes, crude views of association, 275 ; often-quot-
ed illustration, 288 ; doctrine of the infinite, 653.
Hume denies consciousness of ego, 94 ; theory of
sense-perception, 232 ; passage on association,
276 ; enumeration of laws of, do. ; doctrine of
the concept, 408 ; on intuitions, 520 ; theory of
causation, 571 ; definition of substance, 622.
Ideals, nature of, 361 ; varieties of, 362, 3 ; related to
individual experience, 363, 4; ethical, 372.
Ideation, of sense-objects, 199.
Identity, law of, etc., do not explain deduction, 451 ;
category of, 533 ; affirmable of spirit and mat-
ter, 534 ; logical law of, do. ; concerns concepts,
535 ; guards against what, do. ; founded on real
identity, misapplication of by Hegel and others,
536 ; of material substance, 631 ; several kinds
of, do.
Image, technical name for objects of representation,
253 ; relation to concept, 418, 9 ; of space and
time objects, 54-3 ; of causal relation, 585.
Imagination, a modification of representation, 256 ;
poetic, 256 ; philosophical, 257 ; the, chapter on,
351-376 ; appellations for, 351 ; materials and
conditions for, do. ; space and time, 352 ; thought-
relations, do. ; material qualities, do. ; spiritual.
do., 353 ; how far can it modify these materials ?
353-356 ; by what process ? 356 ; three particulars,
357 ; its combining office, 357, 8 ; idealization of
space and time objects, the mathematical imag-
ination, 358; psychical idealization, 360-364;
capable of growth and culture, 364 ; constantly
exercised, 364-366; special application of,
366-376 ; the poetic, 366-368 ; the philosophic,
368-371 ; relation to invention, 369 ; nearly al-
lied to the poetic, 370 ; the ethical, 371-373 ; the
religious, 373-376 ; of the Infinite, 375.
Imaging of concepts, 418 ; of space and time objects,
545 ; of the infinite, etc., 656.
Individual notion of, rests on final cause, 608.
Individuation, the principle of, 631.
Induction, includes psychology, 52 ; psychology its
foundation, do. ; how related to deduction, 441 ;
the so-called purely logical, 47 1 ; examples o$
2 ; chapter on, 469^94 ; loosely defined, 4S9
proper induction, 471 ; very frequent, 472 ; ho\»
differs from simple judgment, 472 ; importanca
of a correct theory of, 473 ; in common life, 474,
in science, do.; in physics most striking, 478;
why in science more difficult, do. ; requires at-
tention, 479 ; discrimination, do. ; more general
definition, do. ; involves mathematics, 480 ; de-
pends on other, do. ; the problem of, difficulty
4S1 ; involves certain assumptions, 482 ; 6ub-
tance and attribute, do. ; causation, 483 ; time
and space relations, do. ; indicia, 484 ; adapta-
tion, 485 ; common standard of reason, 486 ;
three rules of induction, do. ; real character of,
do. ; conditions of successful hypothesis, 487 J
assumes final cause, 607.
Inductive science. (See Induction.)
Infants capable of induction, 176; condition of the
fouI in, 177-1S0 ; learns to touch, 186.
Infinite, unconditioned and absolute, chapter on,
645-662 ; relations to the finite, 647 ; literal im-
port of infinite, 648 ; transferred from quantity to
quality, do. ; variety of senses of, do. ; the terms
used in the concrete and abstract, 650, 1 ; not
negative conceptions, 651 ; not produced by neg-
ative thinking, 652 ; Hamilton and Mansel, do. ;
not unrelated, 653 ; Spinoza, do. ; Hobbes' doc-
trine of, do. : not the sum total of being, do. ;
totality not infinite, 654; not a matter of quan«
tity, do. ; not one and simple, 655 ; is knowable.
that and what it is, 655 ; Herbert Spencer's doc-
trine of, 656; cannot be imagined, do.; Kant's
antinomies explained, 657, 8 ; not known by
reasoning or induction, 658 ; not defined for
classification, do.; holds relations to the finite,
659 ; known by knowledge, and not by faith or
feeling, 660; not known exhaustively, do.; self-
existence common to the finite and infinite, 661 ;
is a thinking person, 661 ; relations to space
and time, 662.
Innate Ideas, doctrine of, 519.
Inner sense. (See Consciousness.)
Insanity, 350, 1.
Intellect, growth and development of, 73, 4 ; rules
for culture of, 74, 5 ; faculties of, how conceived,
75 ; learns to control the body, 163-70 ; its state
before sense-perception, ISO.
Intuitions, 82.
Intuition and Intuitive knowledge, Part TV., 497-
662 ; defined and enumerated, chapter on, 497-
517 ; involved in induction and other knowl-
edge, 497 ; three characteristics, 498 ; not gained
by ordinary processes, 499 ; referred by some to
a special faculty, do. ; various appellations for,
500; difference of opinion in respect to, do. ;
figuratively described, do. ; not first in time, 5C1 j
Locke's polemic against, do. ; first in logical im-
portance, 502 ; in what sense principles, do. ]
different senses of the word, 502-504 ; how re-
lated to origin of knowledge, 504 ; ways in
. which they are apprehended, 505, 6 ; concrete,
by a proposition, singular propositions, occasion
concepts, 505 ; generalized by reflection, 508 ; re«
668
INDEX.
<
Jation to other generals, do. ; stages of the mind's
progress in, 508-510 ; observation of objects,
506 ; as related, 507 ; abstraction of relation, do. ;
discernment of relations as fundamental, 507, 8 ;
of correlates, 508 ; explanation of the limited
assent to them, do. ; tested by the language and
actions of men, 509, 10 ; three criteria, 510, 11 ;
not first premises, 512 ; logically independent,
513 ; divided into three classes, 514 ; theories of,
chapter on, 517-526 ; of direct mental vision,
518 ; light of nature, do. ; innate ideas, 519 ;
school of Locke, do. ; Condillac, 520 ; Hume, do. ;
of the associational school, 520 ; Dr. Reid and
the Scottish school, do. ; the Trench school, 521 ;
Kant and his school, do.; criticism of, 522;
Hamilton, 523 ; of faith, do. ; practical reason,
524; Schleiermacher, do.; ethical school, do. ;
3. G. Fichte, 525 ; Schelling and Hegel, do. ;
Herbart, 526 ; Trendelenburg, 80.
Intuitive knowledge, relation to symbolic, 428-430.
Jessen, theory of the brain in memory, 272.
Jouffroy, doctrine of intuitions, 521.
Judgment, chapter on, 430-439 ; forms the concept,
430 ; misconceived, do. ; proof, 431 ; how related to
the concept, 432 ; psychological and logical, 432 ;
how the two are expressed in language, do. ; the
logical judgment, 433 ; force of the copula, 433,
5 ; judgment of content, 434 ; natural and scien-
tific, do. ; real and nominal essence, do. ; judg-
ment of extent, 436 ; importance in science, do. ;
propositions of extent and content how related,
437 ; relation to reasoning, 439 ; immediate and
mediate, 440.
Kant, method in Psychology, 59 ; on consciousness
of ego, 94 ; theory of sense-perception, 245 ; on
the nature of the concept, 411 ; on immediate
syllogisms, 463 ; on origin of knowledge, 504 ;
views of categories and intuitions, 521 ; criticism
of, 522; of practical reason, 524; doctrine of
space and time, 568 ; on causation, 589 ; on sub-
stance and attribute, 622; error concerning forms
of knowledge, 629 ; the thing in itself, 632 ; on
the real and phenomenal, 642 ; antinomies, 657.
Kepler, discovery by, 477. .
Knowledge defined and discussed, 51-80; denned, 61 ;
how far definable, do.; is action, do.; exercised
under conditions, 62 ; these various, 62 ; two
classes of objects, 62 ; preparation of objects, 63;
various in kind, do. ; involves certainty, 64 ;
being its correlate, do. ; involves apprehension
of relations, 65 ; objection, do. ; admitted by
Hamilton and others, do. ; involves analysis
and synthesis, 67 ; objects and relations vari-
ous, 67 ; when the process is complete, 68 ; these
products objects of subsequent knowledge, do. ;
representative and represented knowledge, do. ;
acts of kn. diverse in energy, 69 ; attention,
do. ; some objects known more easily than others,
do. ; this explains intellectual growth, 70; em-
pirical and philosophical kn., 71 ; critical stage
of kn., 72 ; direct and reflex, of matter and
spirit, 635 ; direct involves apprehension of being j
as well as relations, do. ; reflex, difficult to an-
alyze, do.
Language, relation to psychological truth, 112 ; of
common, life, a test of truth, 113, 4 ; influenced
by association, 299 ; relation to thought, 387, 8 4
the study of, 388.
Laromiguiere, theory of sense-perception, 241.
Law, its relations to psychology, 13.
Law and power, 570.
Leibnitz, doctrine of latent consciousness, 103 ;
theory of sense-perception, 243 ; latent modifi-
cations in association, 289 ; opinion of the
' mind's constant activity, 334 ; on symbolic
knowledge, 427 ; on the sufficient reason, 451 :
criticism on Locke's doctrine of origin of know-
ledge, 504 ; on intuitions, 519 ; definition of
space and time, 567 ; sufficient reason as applied
by Wolf, 588.
Life, how explained by the atomists, 29 ; by Aris-
totle, do. ; by Plato, do. ; in the New Testament,
30 ; by the Greek Fathers, 30 ; by Descartes, 30 ;
and the moderns generally, 30 ; by later Scien-
tists, 30; the principle of, named by Blumenbach
and others, 30 ; that there is a principle of, ar-
guments in favor, 30-33 ; springs from life, 30,
31; is sustained by growth, 31 ; after a plan, 32 ;
preserves its form, 32 ; admits repair, 32 ;
counter-arguments, 33-36; variously defined by
Carpenter and others, 33.
Light of nature, 518.
Limit and limitation of objects and events, 563.
Limited, the distinguished from the conditioned,
647.
Locke, doctrine of reflection, 86, 7 ; of conscious-
ness, 94; theory of sense-perception, 230; doc-
trine of knowledge, 262 ; of association, 276 ; of
the mind's constant activity, 334 ; on axioms,
460 ; on innate ideas, 501 ; on intuitions, etc.,
519 ; theory of causation, 581 ; relation to Mill
and Hume, 582 ; to de Biran, do. ; to his own
doctrine of knowledge, do. ; on substance, 621, 2 ;
on real essence, 632 ; on primary and secondary
qualities, 637.
Logic, its relation to Psychology, 14, 15 ; to meta-
physics, 14.
Logical relation of processes and products, 70, 1 ;
contrasted with psychological, do. ; do not al-
ways coincide, 72 ; reasoning technical, 465.
Lotze, H., doctrine of local signs, 148.
Maas, theory of association, 280.
Malebranche, theory of sense-perception, 228 ; of
causation, 582-8.
Mansel, H. L., consciousness of ego, 94 ; theory of
causation, 490 ; on negative thinking, 652 ; on
the Infinite, etc., 654, 5.
Materialism accounted for, 18 ; arguments in favor
of, 19-22 ; counter-arguments, 22-26.
Materialists, their views of psychology, 53.
Mathematical affections of matter, Stewart's doctrino
of, 638.
Mathematical reasoning, 45G-463 ; its entities or con-
cepts, 456 ; resolved into induction, 461 ; into
INDEX.
669
hypothetical, do. ; into constructive, do. ; cate-
gories, 514, 5.
Mathematical relations, chapter on, 537-569 ; quan-
tity, 551 ; concepts, two classes of, 551 ; applica-
tion to matter, 554 ; to mechanics and chemistry,
555 ; to light, sound, and heat, 556 ; to psychi-
cal phenomena, arguments for and against, 557 ;
suggested and defined by motion, 559.
Mathematics, rests on final cause, 609 ; recognize
limited quantity, 561.
Matter, relations of the soul to, 16-40 ; phenom-
ena first attended to, 17 ; prepossessions which it
engenders, 18 ; furnishes language for psychical
phenomena, 27-29.
Matter and form, in sense-perception, 225.
Matter and spirit, united by thought relations, 636 ;
especially by those of design, 637.
Matter, its capacity to be perceived not an attribute,
629.
Matter, known as being, 635 ; its most important re-
lations to the soul as sentient, 636.
Measurement involves number, 544 ; involves both
number and magnitude, 548.
Memory a modification of representation, 254, 5;
imperfect, 255 ; chapter on, 300-325 ; essential ele-
ments in an act of, 300 ; object must be recalled,
301 ; the mind perceiving it, do. ; relations of
time, do. ; the place where, 302 ; act of recogni-
tion, do. ; disinterested, 303 ; admits reasons,
do. ; memory technically defined, 303 ; represen-
tation and recognition, 304 ; spontaneous and
intentional, 304 ; spontaneous defined, 305 ; orig-
inal differences in, do. ; relations peculiar to it,
306 ; its value, do. ; requires the rational also,
do. ; the intentional memory defined, 307 ; rela-
tions to the knowing mind, 307 ; recovery of for-
gotten objects, 308 ; active element prominent,
do. ; the passive must be used, do. ; memory as
the power to retain, 309 ; how accounted for, 309 ;
figurative explanations, Gassendi's, 310 ; ready
and tenacious, do. ; forgetfulness, do. ; degrees
of, 311 ; is entire forgetfulness possible ? do. ; for-
gotten knowledge recovered, 311, 2 ; dependence
on the bodily condition, 312, 3 ; influenced by
the season or the time of the day, do. ; sudden
loss of memory, 313 ; how explained, do. ; vari-
eties of, 314 ; development of, 315 ; in infancy,
childhood, and youth, 315, 6 ; culture of, 316 ;
manhood and old age, do. ; special individual
varieties, 317 ; of the undisciplined, 318 ; of
youth and age, do. ; man of universal memory,
319 ; memory of the ancients, do. ; cultivation
of the memory, 320 ; fundamental principles,
321; Buxton's advice, do.; artificial memory,
322; value, objections, do.; when useful, 323;
Bern's system, do. ; Coleridge's arts of memory,
do. ; moral conditions of, 324.
Metaphysics, its relations to psych., 14-15 ; to logic,
15 ; relation to psychology, 499 ; assumes final
cause, 607.
Microcosm, the soul a, 99.
Middle terms, 446 ; invention of, 446.
Mill, James, an associationalist, 56 ; denies con-
sciousness of ego, 94 ; admits it, 96 ; doctrine of
association, 276 ; on intuition, 520.
Mill, John Stuart, an associationalist,- 56; doctrine
of necessary truths, 57 ; consciousness of ego,
94 ; doctrine of association, 276 ; on the nature
of the concept, 410 ; concessions to realism, 425 ;
doctrine of the syllogism, 444-7 ; of mathe-
matical reasoning, 461 ; on intuitions and first
truths, 520 ; theory of causation, 576 ; relation
to those of Hume and Brown, 577 ; definition
of the soul, 627 ; definition of body, error in,
628.
Mind and matter, chapter on, 619-645.
Mnemonics. (See Memory.)
Morell, J. D., resolves sensations into nerve-vibra-
tions, 126 ; perception into classification, 206.
Motion bodily, provision for, by nature, 167, 8 ; for
combined activity, 168; how controlled by the
intellect, 168-70; aids sense-perception, 201.
Motion, relation of space and time concepts to, 558 ;
universality of, do. ; indicates position and rest,
559 ; suggests time relations, 559 ; mathemat-
ical quantities, 559; the condition of generaliza-
tion, do. ; objections, 560 ; Trendelenburg on, 52(
Muller, J., theory of nerve endings in touch, 148
theory of extra organic perception, 184 ; theor -
of sense perception, 184 ; 248.
Muscular sense perceptions defined and divided, 136 *
lowest in rank, do. ; in touch, 146 ; first devel -
oped, 181.
Names, significance of, 401. (See "Words.)
Naming and names of concepts, advantages of, aw
sensuous, 420 ; sign of a single element, do. ;
allow addition, 421 ; aid rapid thinking, do.;
value tested by experience, do.
Negative notions, 531.
Nerves, reflex action of, 124 ; afferent and efferent,
125; subject to various affections, 125; special
function in sensation, do.
Nervous system described, 124.
Newton, discovery by, 477.
Noetic faculty, 81.
Nominalists, the, 405 ; strife adjusted, 417.
Nothing, Hegel's use of, 529 ; 532.
Notion. (See Concept.)
Number, how developed, 544 ; defined, 545 ; relations,
how symbolized, 553 ; concepts of, do. ; applica-
tion to magnitude, 554.
Numerical quantities constructed, 359.
Objects— object- and subject-, 52 ; material distin-
guished from percepts, 192 ; involve two rela-
tions, 193 ; percepts united in 6pace and time,
194 ; involve substance and attribute, 195.
Occam, "William of, on universals, 406.
Organic sense-perceptions, 137.
Organized beings defined, 29.
Original sense-perceptions defined, 159.
Owen, on species, 426.
Perception. (See Sense-perception.)
Perception, acquired, 122.
Perception, proper, Hamilton's doctrine of, 129 ; an
act of knowledge, 131 ; involves being, 131 ; a
670
INDEX.
non-ego, 131, 2 ; an extended non-ego, 132; ac-
companies every sense, 1 33 ; with, varying clear-
ness, 134 ; in inverse ratio to sensation-proper,
134 ; in different sensations and senses, 134, 5 ;
of touch, 147-152 ; defined, 147 ; of extension
in the concrete, do. ; of externality in two senses,
150, 1 ; in vision, 154 ; extended in two dimen-
sions, 155.
Parcepts, how gained, 122; how combined, do.; in
vision, 154; distinguished from things, 192 ; com-
bined into things by two stages, 193.
Phantasy, a modification of representation, 255; chap-
ter on, 325-35 ; defined, 325 ; examples of, do. ;
why infrequent, 326 ; fainting, sleep, etc., do. ;
several suppositions possible, 327 ; why probably
explicable by laws, 327, 8 ; depend on laws of
representation, 328 ; unnoticed states, 329 ; bod-
ily condition influential, do. ; creative power pos-
sible in, do. ; sleep considered physiologically,
331 ; prominent phenomena, 331-333 ; considered
psychologically, 333-348 ; somnambulism, 339-
348 ; insanity, 350.
Phenomenal and real, 640. (See Real.)
Phenomenon defined, 51 ; contrasted with being, 64.
Philosophical consciousness. (See Consciousness.)
Physiology defined, 6, 7 ; assumes final cause, 612.
Plato and the Platonists' view of life, 29-30.
Plato, theory of sense-perception, 223 ; on univer-
sals, 403 ; on intuitions, 518.
Political Science, its relation to psychology, 13.
Porphyry's Questions on universals, 405.
Postulates, 457.
Postulates, nature of, 552.
Power and law distinguished. 570.
Powers of the soul. (See Faculties.)
Predicable, 392.
Prescind, to, 389.
Presentation. (See Presentative Knowledge.)
Presentative Faculty defined and divided, 77 ; exer-
cised earliest, do. ; its objects do. ; conditions to
its exercise, 77, 8.
Presentative Knowledge, Part I., 83-247.
Primary laws of association, 272-286.
Primary Qualities, 637, 8.
Principle, various senses of the term, 502-501.
Probable or problematical reasoning, 454, 5 ; found-
ed on causes and laws, 455 ; various spheres of,
455.
Proposition. (See Judgment.)
Psychological contrasted with logical relations, 70.
Psychology defined and vindicated, 5-16; history
of the term, do.; improperly named, do.; prop-
erly a science, do. ; limited to the human soul,
6 ; and to a class of inquiries, do. ; relations to
physiology and anthropology 6, 7 ; its phenom-
ena peculiar, 7 ; known by consciousness, 7, 8 ;
interest of, 8 ; proper objects of science, 8 ; preju-
dices against psychology, 9 ; value of, promotes
self-knowledge, 9 ; teaches self-control, 10 ; pro-
motes moral culture, do. , aids in understanding
others, do.; indispensable to educators, 10, 11;
especially to moral teachers, 11 ; aids in the
study and enjoyment of literature, 12 ; in orig-
inal composition, 12 ; promotes moral sym-
pathy with others, 12 ; and moral thoughtful*
ness, 13 ; the mother of all the human sciences,
13 ; relation to ethics, 13 ; to political and social
science, 13 ; to law, 13 ; to aesthetics, 14 ; to theol-
ogy, 14 ; special relation to logic and metaphysics,
14 ; why called phil. and met., 15 ; disciplines to
method, 15, 16 ; a branch of physics, 16 ; why dis-
trusted, 16 ; distrust of, accounted for, 17 ; its
phenomena overlooked, 18; resolved into material
agencies, do. ; is it a science 1 51 -60 ; the materi-
als, whence derived, 51, 2 ; an inductive science,
52 ; also the science of induction, 52 ; objections
against psychology as a science, 53 ; answers, do. ;
views of materialists, do. ; of cerebralists, 54 ;
views refuted, 55 ; phrenologists, 55, 6 ; Associ-
ationalists, 56-59 ; d priori theory, 59; Kant and
Hegel, 59-60 ; wherein defective, 60 ; method of
observing and interpreting its phenomena, 106-
109 ; in what sense imparts new knowledge, 110 ;
aided by language, 112 ; misled by exact termi-
nology, 112 ; tried by the language of common
life, 11, 3, 4 ; by the actions, how it can interpret
both, 114, 5 ; why men are so positive in their
theories of, 115 ; slow progress and divisions ex-
plained, 115, 6 ; special difficulties of studying,
117, 8 ; transition to metaphysics, 499 ; assumes
final cause, 014.
Qualities of matter, primary and secondary, 637-640 ;
two and threefold classification, 637 ; Aristotle's,
Descartes', and Locke's, 637 ; Reid's, Stewart's,
and Hamilton's, 638 ; the secundo-primary not
established, 639 ; Hamilton's locomotive energy,
do. ; are the primary qualities essential to the
notion of matter ? 640 ; do they give real knowl-
edge ? do.
Quantity, relations of, 543 ; mathematical, 551.
Real and phenomenal, 640 ; contrasted in two senses,
641 ; Kant's doctrine of, 642 ; Hamilton's, do. ;
their views criticised, 643 ; question not peculiar
to philosophers, do. ; special sense of real, 644 ;
relations of the intellect trustworthy, do.
Real categories, 514-516.
Realism, truth, and significance of, 422-426 ; assert
permanent relations, 324 ; mistakes, 424, 5.
Realists, the, 405.
Reason and consequent, relation of, 449.
Reason to, see Reasoning.
Reasoning, deductive, chapter on, 439-453 ; reason-
ing implies judgment, 439 ; inductive and de-
ductive, 441 ; often conjoined, do. ; an act of
thought-knowledge, 442 ; deductive, (see Deduc-
tion ;) probable, 454, 5 ; mathematical, 454-6 ;
formal, 454.
Redintegration, law of, 277-9 ; how far it accounts
for the laws of association, 279, 80.
Reflection, as used by Locke, 86, 7 ; term explained,
107.
Reflective consciousness. (See Consciousness.)
Regulative faculty, 81.
Reid, consciousness of ego, 94 ; defective view of sen-
sation, 129 ; theory of perceiving externality
by touch, 150 ; theory of sense-perception, 233
INDEX.
67i
on the nature of the concept, 409 ; on axioms,
460 ; criticism on Locke ; doctrine of origin of
knowledge, 504 ; on intuition and first truths,
620 ; of primary and secondary qualities, 638.
Relations involved in knowledge, 65 ; no objects
unrelated, 66 ; how far definable, 66, 7 ; rela-
tions do not attract ideas, 276 ; of place in
assoc, 277 ; of time and of both, do.; of simi-
larity and contrast, 278 ; of cause and effect,
do. ; of means and end, do. ; of association and
acquisition the same, 285 ; general relations or
principles, (see P. ;) formal relations, chapter
on, 527-537 ; mathematical, chapter on, 537-559.
Relative notions, 531.
Repetition, in sense-perception, excites interest,
202 ; aids to unite parts into wholes, 203 ; to di-
rect the attention, 204 ; to master very complex
objects, 204.
Representation, denned, 78 ; its objects, do. ; condi-
tions, 79.
Representation and R. En., Part II., 248-376 ; de-
fined, 243 ; not limited to sensible objects, 249 ;
a creative power, do. ; appellations for, 250, 1 ;
objects of, 251 ; individual, do. ; in what sense
the same, 252 ; involve relations, do. ; these re-
lations peculiar, 252 ; no technical names for
objects of, 253 ; conditions and laws of, do. ; di-
visions of, 254 ; interest and importance of, 257,
8 ; object of, chapter on, 258-269 ; why needs dis-
cussion, do. ; three heads of inquiry, 259 ; psy-
chical, do. ; transient, 260 ; not spectrum or hal-
lucination, 260 ; intellectual, do. ; relation of
object to its original, 261 ; comparable to no
other, do. ; does not resemble its objects, 261 ;
contradictions involved, 262 ; no resemblance in
memory or recognition, 262 ; mental pictures
less exciting, 264; consist of fewer elements,
265 ; recalled slowly in parts, do. ; objects of
imagination, 266 ; usefulness of representative
objects to thought, 266 ; less distracting than
realities, do. ; more easily compared, 267 ; and
generalized, do. ; serviceable in action, 268 ; con-
ditions and laws of Rep., chapter on, 269-300 ;
association of ideas, 270 ; representative power
unceasingly active, 290 ; interrupted by sense-
objects, 290 ; also subjectively, 291.
Representative faculty. (See Representation.)
Representative knowledge, 69.
Retention, 106.
Retina, image on, 153 ; when discovered, 227.
Richter, J. Paul, on self-consciousness, 101.
Roscellinus, doctrine of the concept, 405.
Royer-Collard, theory of sense-perception, 241 ; of
intuition, 521.
Schelling on intuition, 518 ; misuse of law of iden-
tity, 536.
Schema, nature and service of, 268.
Schleiermacher, theory of sense-perception, 246 ; on
the Schema, 268 ; theory of math, reasoning, 461 ;
on intuitions and the categories, 524.
Science, limited views of, 9 ; all science rests on
metaphysics, 9.
Science, classifications of, 398, 9 ; nomenclature of,
399 ; related to common knowledge 437. 8 ; de-
fined, 438 ; when complete, 439.
Scientific knowledge. (See Science.)
Secondary laws of association, 286-288.
Secondary Qualities, 637, 8.
Secundo-primary qualities, 638, 9.
Self, the, distinguished from the ego, 101, 110, 111.
Sensation proper, defined, 128 ; experienced in th*1
soul, do.; connected with an organism, do. ;
Reid's view of, 129; Berkeley's, cfo. ; Hamilton's,
do. ; involve relations of place, 130 ; differ in
kind and degree, 131 ; definiteness of place, do. ;
inversely to perception proper, 134 ; in different
sensations and different senses, 134, 5 ; of gentle
touch, 145 ; acute and painful of, 145 ; of tem-
perature, 146 ; of weight, do. ; muscular in
touch, do. ; of touch localized, 147 ; of vision,
154.
Sensations, subjective, described, 125, 6.
Sense-perception, 119-247; conditions and process,
defined, 119 ; chapter on, 119-135 ; applied to
the power, act, and object, do. ; called earliest
into action, do. ; seems easy to understand, 120 ;
why difficult, 120 ; what it is not, do. ; example
of, in an orange, 120, 21 ; what it is, 121 ; sepa-
rate percepts, 122 ; some indirectly acquired,
do. ; eight topics of inquiry, 123 ; conditions of
sense-perception, 123-126 ; objects or stimuli, 123 ;
bodily organism, 1 23, 4 ; nervous system, 124;
sensorium, do. ; appropriate objects a condition,
125 ; action of object on sensorium, 126 ; pro-
cess of sense-perception, 126-135 ; simplest form
of, 126 ; psychical, not physiological, 127 ; com-
plex, 127 ; names of elements, 127 ; classes of
sense-perceptions, chapter on, 135-158; three
named, 135 ; muscular, 136 ; organic, 137 ; spe-
cial, 137 ; smell, 138 ; taste, 139, 140 ; hearing,
140-143, q. v.; touch, 143-152, q. v.; sight, 137-
151, q. v.; acquired sense-perceptions, chapter
on, 158-177 ; development and growth of, chap-
ter on, 178-192; interest of the problem, 178;
perplexing to the imagination, 179; data for
solving it, 179, 80 ; products of, chapter on, 192-
209 ; conditions of perception of things, 199 ;
energy by contrast, etc., 200 ; motion, 201 ; re-
petition, 201 ; need of, explained, 202-205 ; fa-
miliarity, 205 ; repetition not recognition, 206 ;
continuance of time, do. ; activity of the soul
in, chapter on, 210-220 ; why held to be passive,
210 ; summary and review of theory of, 219, 20 ;
theories of, chapter on, 221-247.
Sensorium described, 124, 5; known as extended,
149.
Sensory. (See Sensorium.)
Sight, sense of, 152-158 ; organ of, 152, 3 ; conditions
of, 153 ; image on the retina, function of, do. ;
single vision with two eyes, 156; double vision,
do. ; place of the object as originally seen, 157 ;
dignity of vision, 157, 8 ; acquired perceptions
of, 161, sqq. ; why and how its percepts are pro-
jected in 6pace, 186-188 ; percepts of, combined
with those of touch, 188, 9.
Simple notions, 395.
Sleep. (See Phantasy.)
672
INDEX.
Smell, sense-perceptions of, do. ; organs, 138 ; ac-
quired perceptions of, 160.
Socrates, on universals, 403.
Somnambulism, three species of, 339; -whence the
name, do. ; natural, do. ; examples of, do. ; ac-
tivities required in, 340 ; magnetic, do. ; how
distinguished, do. ; shown to he morbid, do. ;
representation in excess, do. ; also some sense-
perceptions, 341 ; acute but limited, 342 ; the
sense-organs used, do. ; extraordinary intellec-
tual activities, 344 ; state usually forgotten, 345 ;
when remembered, 346 ; alternate states, do. ;
artificial somnambulism, 346 ; hypnotism, 347 ;
relation to somnambulism, do. ; control of one
mind by another, 34T, 8 ; higher claims, 348.
Soul, the.signification of the term, 6 ; original desig-
nation, do. ; secondary meanings, do. ; rela-
tions of, to matter, 17-29 ; phenomena of, resolved
into matter, 17 ; phenomena at first overlooked,
17 ; arguments for the material structure of,
19-22 ; for its spiritual essence, 22-26 ; its phe-
nomena real, 26 ; cannot be judged by material
analogies, 26, 27 ; described in language of
physical origin, 27 ; consequent dangers, 28, 29 ;
relations to life and living beings, 29-40 ; spe-
cial discussion of, 36-40 ; history of opinions
concerning, 36 ; arguments of unity of the soul
•with the principle of life, 36-38 ; objections, 38-
40 ; faculties of, (see Faculties ;; unity of, higher
than any other, 46, 7 ; does not exclude complex-
ness, 48 ; powers of the soul threefold, 49 ; as
conscious, a microcosm, 99 ; sentient and per-
cipient, 133 ; state before sense-perception be-
gins, 180.
Sounds, sense-perceptions of, 143.
Space, a condition of imagination, 352 ; void, how first
known, 538 ; inclosed and inclosing space, do. ;
these relations analyzed, 539 ; objects as imaged,
545 ; relation to motion, 558 ; as infinite, 562 ;
in what sense unlimited, 564 ; cannot be gener-
alized, 565 ; nor defined, do. ; known by intu-
ition, 566 ; correlate of the extended, do. ; not a
substance, 567 ; nor a quality, do. ; nor a rela-
tion or correlation, do. ; nor a form, 568 ; in
what sense knowable, do. ; conclusion respect-
ing, 569.
Space and Time, chapter on, 537-569 ; objects gener-
alized, 550 ; their relations individual and gen-
eral, do. ; relations to motion, 558.
Species, scholastic doctrine of, 225 ; nature and per-
manence of, 426.
Spectra, 260 ; 349, 50.
Speculative or critical stage of knowledge, 498.
Spencer, Herbert, an associationalist, 56 ; doctrine of
consciousness, 89 ; resolves perception into recog-
nition, 206 ; on the concept, 411 ; on the knowl-
edge of the Infinite, 656 ; on creation, 659.
Spinoza's views similar to those of Hegel, 532 ; defi-
nition of substance, 632.
Spirit, original meaning of, 6.
Standards of space and time, 548, 9.
States of the soul defined, 51.
Stereoscope, invalid inference from, 156.
Stewart, Dugald, consciousness of ego, 94 ; theory of
attention, 207 ; theory of sense-perception, 234
on dreams, 339 ; explanation of latent modifica-
tions of consciousness, 289 ; on the nature of the
concept, 409 ; on geom. axioms, 450 ; on math,
reasoning, 461 ; on primary and secondary qual-
ities, 638.
Studies, natural order of, 74, 5.
Subject-objects, 62.
Substance and Attribute, relation of, 195; appre-
hended later, 197 ; supposes reflex knowledge,
do. ; denied to sense by Kant, 198 ; supposed in
the concept, 390; not discerned by sense, do.;
category of, 533; chapter on, 619-645 ; import of
the terms, 620 ; etymology of, 620, 1 ; different
theories of, 621, 2 ; Locke on, 621 ; Hume, Eeid,
Kant, "Whewell, 621.
Substance represented by touch-percepts, 198 ;
distinguished from logical and grammatical
subject, 620; etymology of, do. ; in the ab-
stract, 622 ; three classes of, 624 ; spiritual
substance, do. ; distinguished by attributes of
causation and design, 625, 6 ; spiritual and hu-
man defined, 626 ; J. S. Mill's definition, 627 ;
material defined, do. ; related to space in a two-
fold way, 627, 8 ; power to affect the senses, 628 ;
matter not causative of perception, 628, 9; Mill,
Brown, and Kant on, do. ; permanently occu-
pies space, 630 ; not self-subsistent, 632 ; Spino-
za's error and definition, do. ; Whewell's, 633 ;
belief in permanence founded in design, 633 ;
relations of material and spiritual, 634.
Syllogism and Deduction, chapter on, 439-453 ; parts
of, 444 ; the power of deduction, do. ; possible
changes in, 445 ; problem of, do. ; does not rest
on the dictum de omni et nullo, 448 ; not apetilio
principii, do. ; not identical with induction, do. ;
explained by relation of reason to consequent,
449 ; this by causation or its equivalent, 450;
sanctioned by Aristotle Und Leibnitz, 451 ; ap-
plied to mathematical and pure deduction, 451,
2, 3 ; immediate syllogisms, 463, 4.
Symbolic Knowledge, 426-430 ; can the infinite and
spiritual be symbolized ? 429, 30.
Synthesis, involved in knowledge, 67.
System, 400 ; relations in knowledge, do. ; chapter on,
494-496 ; any arrangement of content or extent,
495 ; of both united, do. ; of propositions of
either, or both, do. ; of less obvious concepts,
495, 6 ; in science, 496 ; of aostracta, do. ; of cate-
gories, do.
Systemization. (See System.)
Taste, sense-perceptions of, 139-140 ; variety, namea
of, 139 ; gratifications, objective relations, 140.
Tennyson, on self-consciousness, 101.
Terminology, completeness of, no test of truth, 112.
Themistius, illustration of association, 276.
Theology, relations to psychology, 14 ; relations t<:
final cause, 616.
Theories of nature of concepts and universals, (see
Concept) ;— of sense perception, chapter on, 221-
246 ; universal, 221 ; reflex influence mischievous,
do. ; liable to be erroneous, do. ; pertain chiefly
to vision, 222 ; of the earlier Greek philosophers;
INDEX.
673
do. ; Diogenes of Ap. do. ; Heraclitus and Em-
pedocles, do. ; Democritus, 223 ; the Socratic
school, do. ; Plato, do. ; Aristotle, 224 ; the
schoolmen, 225 ; Gassendi, 226 ; Descartes, do. ;
Geulincx, 228 ; Malebranche, 228 ; Arnauld, 229 ;
Locke, 230 ; Berkeley, 232, 3 ; Hume, 232 ; Reid,
233 ; Stewart, 234 ; Brown, 235 ; Hamilton, 236 ;
Condillac, 240 ; Laromiguiere, 241 ; Royer-Col-
lard, do. ; Maine de Biran, 242 ; Leibnitz, 243 ;
Tetens, 244 ; Kant, 245 ; Herbart, do. ; Schleier-
macher, 246 ; Muller, do.
Thing in itself, explained, 632 ; Kant's doctrine of.
(See Kant.)
Thinking. (See Thought.)
Thomas Aquinas, on universals, 406.
Thought, and Thought-knowledge, Part III., 377-
496 ; terms variously applied, 377 ; relation to
higher knowledge, do. ; dignity of, 378 ; illustra-
ted by an example, 378, 9 ; thought denned, 380 ;
products of, do. ; use of term justified, do. ; ap-
pellations for the power, 381 ; forms of, 383 ; rela-
tion to lower powers, do. ; when does it begin 1
384 ; abstract and concrete, do. ; by whom each
performed, 385 ; difficulty of abstract, do. ; re-
lation to experience, 386 ;, to language, 386, 7;
relation to intuition, 402.
Thought, faculty of, defined, 79 ; its objects, 79, 80 ;
its conditions, 80 ; how far prepared by thought
itself, do. ; certain intuitions assumed in, 80, 81 ;
two aspects of, 81 ; analysis of, involves two gen-
eral inquiries, 81, 2.
Time and Space, relations of, chapter on, 527-559 ;
estimates of, 548 ; objects generalized, 550. (See
T. & S.)
Time, a condition of imagination, 352 ; objects as
imaged, 545 ; measure of, 547 ; estimates of, 548 ;
relation to motion, 558 ; time-relations general-
ized and suggested by motion, 559 ; as infinite,
562 ; in what sens* unlimited, 564 ; cannot be
generalized, 565 ; nor defined, do. ; is known by
intuition, 566 ; correlate of the enduring, do. ;
not a substance, 567 ; nor a quality, do. ; nor a
relation or correlation, do. ; nor a form, 568 ; in
what sense knowable, do. ; conclusion respect-
ing, 569 ; does not explain causation, 578.
43
Touch, sense of, 143-152 ; organ, 143 ; conditions ofj
114; variety of sensations, 145; gentle touch,
do. ; involving violence, do. ; of temperature,
146; of pressure, 146 ; muscular, do. ; perception
proper of, 147 ; of extension, do. ; conditions and
act, 148 ; of extension direct, not indirect, do. ;
perception of externality in two senses, 149, 50 ;
of the body to the soul, 150 ; of one body to an-
other, 151 ; the leading sense, 151 ; called gen-
eral sensibility, 152 ; furnishes terms for the
intellect, do. ; percepts of, combined with those
of sight, 188,9.
Trendelenburg, doctrine of motion, 531 ; views of
the categories, 526.
Unconditioned (see Infinite), primary and secondary
sense of, 649.
Universal, 292 ; theories of, nature of. (See Con-
cept.)
Universe, the finite, how conceived, 643.
Unorganized beings, defined, 29.
Vibrations of nerves supposed to account for sensa-
tion, 126.
Vision. (See Sight.)
Vital Power, various appellations for, by Elumen-
bach and others, 30 ; arguments in favor of, 30-
33 ; counter arguments, 33-36 ; defined by Car-
penter and others, 33 ; Carpenter's illustration
against, 33 ; inexplicable by special combina-
tions of mechanical and chemical forces, 34; by
organization, 35 ; by creative power, 35 ; admits
decay, 35 ; is individual, 35-36.
Weber, E. H., experiments on touch, 144.
"Whately, on the syllogism, 449.
Whewell, views of substance, 622 ; erroneous defi«
nition of, 633.
"William of Champeaux, doctrine of universals, 406.
Wolf, on causation, 588.
"Worcester, Marquis of, discovery of steam, 490.
"Words, importance for definition, 427 ; no substitute
for intuition, 428 ; operate by suggestion, do.
Xenophanes' views similar to those of Hegel, 532.
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