" ^;. y M Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^ ^^t 'S^ \ iV* 4> o 6^ ^m o^ «"*» j! ^^ 4*0 Ua t-?/ \\ 6^ 88 AN OUTLINE OF o.§5i o 9 O eg. n o "« "5 ^i^ P< A S .- "?» IT! to s C^ 0< : g, 2^ .-2 2 2 g P. o g § a S iB I • i» SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPHY. 89 a II 'T 5 (i.) If the veracit}' of consciousness be allowed to the equipoise of the object and subject in the act, but rejected as to the reality of their antithesis, the system of Absolute Identity emerges, which reduces both mind and matter to phenomenal modifications of the same common substance. (ii.) and (iii.) If the testimony of consciousness be refused to the co-originality and reciprocal indepen- dence of the subject and object, two schemes are de- termined, according as the one or the other of the terms is placed as the original and genetic. Is the object educed from the subject. Idealism; is the sub- ject educed from the object. Materialism, is the result. These systems are all conclusions from an original interpretation of the fact of consciousness in per- ception, carried intrepidly forth to its legitimate issue. But there is one scheme, which, violating the integrity of this fact, and, with the complete idealist, regarding the object of consciousness in perception as only a modification of the percipient subject, or, at least, a phenomenon numerically difterent from the object it represents, — endeavors, however, to stop short of the negation of an external world, the reality of which, and the knowledge of whose reality, it seeks by various hypotheses to establish and explain. This scheme, — which we would term Gosmothelic Idealism, Hypothetical Realism, or Hypothetical Dualism, — although the most inconsequent of all systems, has been embraced, under various forms, by the immense majority of philosophers. {Reid's IFbrA^s, pp. 748-9.)* ' See also Discussions, pp. 65-6 ; and Led. on Metaph. (XVI.) Seid's Works, Note C, contain a more elaborate classification of the mm \\ 1' l! 90 \h Ay OUTLINE OF § 2. SELF-CONSCIOVSNESS. This faculty will not occupy us long, as the princi- pal questions regarding its nature and operation have been already considered, in treating of Consciousness in general. I formerly showed that it is impossible to distin- guish Perception, or the other Special Faculties, from Consciousness, — in other words, to reduce Conscious- ness itself to a special faculty. I stated, however, that though it be incompetent to establish a faculty for the immediate knowledge of the external world, and a faculty for the immediate knowledge of the in- ternal, as two ultimate powers, exclusive of each other, and not merely subordinate forms of a higher immediate knowledge, under which they are compre- hended or carried up into one, — I stated, I say, that though the immediate knowledges of matter and of mind are still only modifications of Consciousness, yet that their discrimination, as subaltern faculties, is both allowable and convenient. The sphere and character of this faculty of acquisi- tion will be best illustrated by contrasting it with the other. Perception is the power by which we are made aware of the phenomena of the external world ; Self-consciousness, the power by which we apprehend the phenomena of the internal. The objects of the various theories of perception. In the Lect. on 3Ietaph. (Lect. XSV.) will be found a vindication of Natural Realism; and in the following lecture, a polemic against Hypothetical Realism. — J. C. M. sin WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPilY. 91 former are all presented to us in space and time ; space and time are thus the two conditions, — the two fundamental forms of external perception. The objects of the latter are all apprehended by us in time and in self; time and self are thus the two conditions, — the two fundamental forms, — of Internal Perception or Self-consciousness. Time is thus a form or condi- tion common to both faculties ; w^hile space is a form peculiar to the one, self a form peculiar to the other. What I mean by the fonn or condition of a faculty, is that frame, that setting (if I may so speak), out of which no object can be known. Thus, we only know, through Self-consciousness, the phenomena of the Internal world, as modifications of the indivisible Ego or conscious unit ; we only know, through per- ception, the phenomena of the External world, under space, or as modifications of the extended and divisible Non-ego or known plurality. Tm^o difllculties, how- ever, may here be suggested : — 1. It may be asked, if self, or Ego, be the form of Self-consciousness, why is the not-self, the Non-ego, not in like manner called the form of Perception ? To this I reply, that the not-self is only a negation, and, though it discriminates the objects of the external cog- nition from those of the internal, it does not afford to the former any positive bond of union among them- selves. This, on the contrary, is supplied to them by the form of Space, out of wiiich they can neither be perceived, nor imagined by the mind. Space, there- fore, as the positive condition under Avhich the Non- ego is necessarily known and imagined, and through iiiMiiiiiiieiM I r |i i; 'y. ' ■\k •h 92 AX OUTLINE OF which it receives its unity in Consciousness, is properly said to aflford the condition, or form, of External Per- ception. 2. But a more important question may be started. If Space, if extension, be a necessary form of thought, this, it may be argued, proves that the mind itself is extended. The reasoning here proceeds upon the assumption that the qualities of the sul)ject know- ing must be similar to the qualities of the ol)ject known. This, as I have already stated, is a mere philosophical crotchet, — an assumption without a shadow even of probability in its favor. That the mind has the power of perceiving extended objects is no ground for holding that it is itself extended. Still less can it be maintained, that because it has ideally a native or necessary conception of Space, it must really occupy Space. Nothing can be more ab- surd. On this doctrine, to exist as extended is sup- posed necessary in order to think extension. But if this analogy hold good, the sphere of ideal Space, which the mind can imagine, ought to be limited to the sphere of real Space which the mind actually fills. This is not, however, the case ; for though the mind be not absolutely unlimited in its power of conceiving Space, still the compass of thought may be viewed as infinite in this respect, as contrasted Avith the petty point of extension, which the advocates of the doc- trine in question allow it to occupy in its corporeal domicile. The faculty of Self-consciousness afibrds us a knowl- edge of the phenomena of our minds. It is the source of Internal experience. You will, therefore, observe, sin WILLIAM Hamilton's rniLosornr. 93 that, like External Perception, it only furnishes us with foots ; and that the use we make of these facts — that is, what we find in them, M'hat wc deduce from them — belongs to a difibrent process of intelli- gence. Self-consciousness affords the materials equally to all systems of philosophy ; all equally admit it, and all elaborate the materials which this foculty supplies, according to the^' fashion. (Led. on Metavh ' XXIX.) ^ ' . If ^(^i [if ft % H'. PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE COGNITIONS. CHAPTER II. TIIE CONSERVATIVE FACULTY. — MEMORY PROPER. "Through the powers of External and Internal Per- ception, we are enabled to acquire information, — experience ; but this acquisition is not of itself inde- pendent and complete ; it supposes that we are also able to retain knowledge acquired, for we cannot be said to get what we are unable to keep. The faculty of Acquisition is, therefore, only realized through an- other faculty, — the faculty of Retention or Conserva- tion. Here we have another example of what I have already frequently had occasion to suggest to your observation ; we have two faculties, two elementary phenomena, evidently distinct, and yet each depend- ing on the other for its realization. Without a power of Acquisition, a power of Conservation could not be exerted ; and, without the latter, the former would be frustrated, for we should lose as fast as we acquired. But as the faculty of Acquisition would be useless without the faculty of Retention, so the faculty of Re- tention would be useless without the faculties of Re- 94 AN OUTLINE OF irAMlLTOA^S pniLOSOl'IlY. 95 production and Representation. Tliat the mind retained, beyond the sphere of conscionsness, a treas- ury of knowledge would be of no avail, did it not possess the power of bringing out, and of displaying, — in other words, of reproducing, and representing, — this knowlcdu^c in consciousness. But because the faculty of Conservation would be fruitless without the ulterior faculties of Reproduction and Representation, we ai'e not to confound these faculties, or to view the act of mind, which is their joint result, as a simple and elementary phenomenon. Tiiough mutually de- pendent on each other, the faculties of Conservation, Reproduction, and Representation are governed l>y dif- ferent laws, and, in different individuals, are found greatly varying in their comparative vi^or. The in- timate connection of tliese three faculties, or elemen- tary activities, is the cause, however, wiiy they have not been distinguished in the analysis of philosophers ; and why their distinction is not precisely marked in ordinary language. In ordinary language, wc have, indeed, words which, without excluding the other fac- ulties, denote one of these more emphatically. Thus, in tLo term Memory^ the Conservative Faculty, the phenomenon of Retention is the central notion, w4th wdiich, however, those of Reproduction and Represen- tation are associated. In the term Itecollection, again, the phenomenon of Reproduction is the principal no- tion, accompanied, however, T)y those of Retention and Representation, as its subordinates. By Memory or Retention, you will see, is only meant the condition of Reproduction ; and it is, tliere- fore, evident that it is only by an extension of the 9G AK OUTLIXE OF h li! III ■'». term tlmt it can be called a faculty, that is, an active power. It is more a passive resistance than an energy, and ought, therefore, perhaps to receive rather the appellation of a capacity. But the nature of this ca- pacity or faculty we must now proceed to consider. (^Led. on 3Ietctjph., XXX.) § 1. THE FACT OF nETENTIOX. In the first place, then, I presume that the fact of Retention is admitted. AVc are conscious of certain cognitions as acquired, and we are conscious of these cognitions as resuscitated. That, in the interval, when out of consciousness, these cognitions do con- tinue to subsist in the mind, is certainly an hypothe- sis, because whatever is out of consciousness can only be assumed ; but it is an hypothesis which we are not only warranted, but necessitated, by the phenomena, to establish. For, besides the phenomena of Reten- tion, there are many which it is impossible to explain by any other hypothesis ; and I shall here adduce the evidence which appears to me not merely to warrant, but to necessitate the conclusion, that the spliere of our conscious modifications is only a small circle in the centre of a far wider sphere of action and passion, of which we arc only conscious through its eflccts. I. External Perception. Let ns take our first ex- ample from Perception, and in that faculty let us commence with 1. The sense of Sight. Now, you either already know, or can be at once informed, what it is that has SIR WILLIA^r haaMilton^s rniLosornr. 97 the •ant, re of •Ic in «sion, ;s. , it cx- et us ready ,t has olttained the name of Minimum Vlsihih, You are of course aware, in general, that vision is the rcsuU of the rays of light reflected from the surface of objects to the eye ; a greater number of rays is reflected from a larjfer surface ; if the superficial extent of an object, and, consequently, the number of rnys Avliidi it re- flects, be diminished beyond a certain limit, the ob- ject liccomes invisible ; and the Minimum Visibile is the smallest expanse which can be seen, — Avhich can coniscioiisly aflect us, — which we can be conscious of seeing. This being understood, it is plain that, if we divide this Minimum Visibile into two parts, neither half can, by itself, be an object of vision, or vi^^ual consciousness. They are, severally and apart, to consciousness as zero. But it is evident that each half must, by itself, have produced in us a certain modification, real though unperceived ; for as the per- ceived whole is nothing but the union of the unper- ceived halves, so the Perception — the perceived aflection itself of which we are conscious — is only the sum of two modifications, each of which scverall}- eludes oar consciousness. When we look at a distant forest, we perceive a certain expanse of gi'een. Of this, a.s an aflection of our organism, we are clearly and distinctly conscious. Now, the expanse, of Avhich we are conscious, is evidently made up of parts of which wc are not conscious. No leaf, perhaps no tree, may be separately visible. But the greenness of the forest is made up of the greenness of the leaves ; that is, the total impression of which we are conscious is made up of an infinitude of small im- pressions of which we are not conscious. T i 98 AN OUTLINE OF 2. Sense of Eearinrj. — Talcc another example, from the sense of hearing. In this sense, there is, in like manner, a Minimum Audihile^ tiuit is, a sonnd the least which can como into perception and conscious- ness. But tliis Minimum Aiullbih is made up of parts "which severally affect the sense, but of Avliich aft'oc- tions, separately, wo arc not conscious, though of their joint result we arc. "Wo must, therefore, hero likewise admit the reality of modifications beyond tho sphere of consciousness. To take a special example. "When we hear the distant murmur of tlic sea, — what arc . the constituents of the total perception of which we are conscious? This murmur is a sum made up of parts, and the sum would be as zero if the parts did not count as something. The noise of the sea is the complement of the noise of its jcveral waves ; — TzmTiiov r£ xu/mTiov 'AvrjpiOiiov yiXaff/xa^— ; and if thc uoiso of each wave made no impression on our sense, the noiso of the sea, as the result of these impressions, could not be realized. But tho noise of each several wave, at the distance we suppose, is inaudible ; Ave must, however, admit that they produce a certain modifica- tion, beyond consciousness, on the percipient subject ; for this is necessarily involved in tho reality of their result. 3. Thc same is equally the case in the otJier senses; the taste or smell of a dish, be it agreeable or disa- greeable, is composed of a multitude of se^^erally im- perceptible effects, which tho stimulating particles of the viand cause on different points of the nervous ex- pansion of the gustatory and olfactory organs ; and the pleasant or painful feeling of smoothness or rough- sin n'lLLIAM HAMILTON'S I'lIILOSOP/ir. 99 igh- ncs3 {a the result of tin infinity of unfolt modifications, whicli the body handlod determines on the countless papilltc of the nerves of touch. II. Association of Ideas. — Let us now take an ex- ample from another mental process. AVe have not yet spoken of what is called the Association of Ideas ; and it is enough for our present purpose that you should be aware, that one thought suggests another in conformity with certain determinate laws, — laws to which the successions of our whole mental states arc subjected. Now, it sometimes happens, that we find one thought rising immediately after another in consciousness, but whose consecution we can reduce to no law of association, ia these cases we ran generally discover, by nn attentive observation, that these two thoughts, though not themselves associated, are each associated with certain other thoughts, so that the whole consecution would have been reirular had these intermediate thoughts come into conscious- ness between the two which are not immediately as- sociated. You are probably aAvare of the following fact in mechanics. If a number of billiard balls be place«l in a straight row, and touching each other, and if a ball be made to strike, in the line of the row, the ball at one end of the series, what will happen? The mo- tion of the impinging ball is not divided among the whole row ; this, which we might a j)nori have ex- pected, does not Vappen ; but the impetus is trans- mitted through the intermediate balls, which remain each in its place, to the ball at the opposite end of the series, and this ball alone is impelled on. Some- 100 ^l.V OUTLISE ':f l! ' i; i ill (: I ■ 'i tliiiiff like this seems often to occur in the train of thought. One idea mediately suggests another into consciousness, — the suggestion passing through one or more ideas which do not themselves rise into con- sciousness. The awakening and awakened ideas here correspond to the ball striking and the ball struck off; while the intermediate ideas of Avhich we are uncon- scious, but Avliich carry on the suggestion, resemble the intermediate balls which remain moveless, but communicate the impulse. An instance of this occnrs to me, Avith which I was recently struck. Thinking of Ben Lomond, this thought was immediately fol- lowed by the thought of the Prussian sj'stcm of edu- cation. Now, conceivable connection between these two ideas, in themselves, there was none. A little reflection, however, explained the anomaly. On my last visit to the mountain, I had met upon its summit a German gentleman, and though I had no conscious- ness of the intermediate and unawakencd links between Ben Lomond and the Prussian schools, they v/erc un- doubtedly these; the German, — Germany, — Prus- sia, — and, these media being admitted, the connec- tion between the extremes was manifest. INIr. Stewart explains this phenomenon on a difler- ent h3'pothcsis ; l)ut his explanation will be considered in connection with the similar explanation, which he gives, of III. Our Acquired Habits and Dexterities^ which in like manner arc capable of explanation only on the theory I have advanced. Li these phenomena the consecution of various operations is extremely rapid ; bu^ it is allowed on all hands that, though avc are con- sni WILLIAM Hamilton's piiilosopuy. 101 scions of the series of operations, that is, of the men- tal state which tliey conjunctly constitute, — of the several operations themselves as acts of volition we arc wholly incognizant. Now, this incognizancc may be explained 1)11 three possible hypotheses. The first regards the whole series of operations as merely me- chanical or automatic, and thus denying to the mind all active or voluntary intervention, consequently re- moves them beyond the sphere of consciousness. The second, again, allows to each several motion a sepa- rate act of conscious volition ; v.iiile the tJiinl, which I would maintain, holds a medium between these, constitutes the mind the agent, accords to it a con- scious volition over the series, but denies to it a con sciousness and deliberate volition in rcirard to each separate movement in the series Avhich it determines. 1. The tirst of these has been maintained, among others, by two philosophers who in other points are net frequently at one, — by Reid and Hartley. "IIal)it," says Eeid, "differs from instinct, not in its nature, but in its origin ; the last being natural, the first acquired. Both operate without will or inten- tion, without thought, and therefore may be called mechanical principles.'' But this opinion is unphilosophical for two reasons. (a) In the first place, it assumes an occult, an in- comjn'ehensible principle, to enable us to comprehend the effect, (h) In the second place, admitting the agency of the mind in accomplishing the series of movements before the habit or dexterity is formed, it afterwards takes it cut of the hands of the mind in order to bestow it on another agent. This hypothesif m 102 AN OUTLINE OF b '"% ■% thus violates the two great laws of philosophizing : (a) to assume no occult princii^lc without necessity ; (b) to assume no second principle without necessity. 2. The second hypothesis, which Mr. Stewart adopts, is at once complex and contradictory. It supposes a consciousness and no memory. Now, (a) This is altogether hypothetical. It cannot ad- vance a shadow of proof in support of the fact which it assumes, that an act of consciousness does or can take place without any, the least, continuance in mem- ory. (6) This assumption is disproved by the whole anal- ogy of our intellectual nature. It is a law of mind, that the intensit}' of the present consciousness detsr- mines the vivacity of the future memory. Memory and consciousness are thus in the direct ratio of each other. On the one hand, looking from cause to ef- fect, — vivid consciousness, long memory ; faint con- sciousness, short memory ; no consciousness, no memory ; and, on the other, looking from effect to cause, — long memory, vivid consciousness; short memory, faint consciousness ; no memory, no con- sciousness. Thus the hypothesis, which postulates consciousness without memory, violates the funda- mental laws of our inlcllecLual being. (c) This hypothesis is at once illegitimate and su- perjiuous. As we must admit, from the analogy of l)erception, that efficient modifications may exist with- out any consciousness of their existence, and as this admission affords a solution of the present problem, the hypothesis in question here again violates the law of parcimojiy by assuming, without necessity, a ,v;;; u'iluam hamilton^s rniLoaopny. 103 ;Ct to short con- sulates ■unda- hd 8U- Avith- |as this )blem, iS the Isity, a phinility of prinerplcs to account for what one more easily suffices to explain. 3. The third hypothesis, then, — that which em- ploys the single principle of latent agencies to account •lass of mental — h lor so numerous a class ot menial i>nenom( does it explain the phenomenon under consideration ? Nothing can be more simple and analogical than its solution. As, — to take an example from vision, — in the external perception of a stationary object, a cer- tain space, an expanse of surface, is necessary to the minimum visihile; in other words, an object of sight cannot come into consciousness unless it be of a cer- tain size ; in like manner, in the interntil perception of a series of mental operations, a certain time, a cer- tain duration, is necessary for the smallest section of continuous energy to which consciousness is compe- tent. Some minimum of time must be admitted as the condition of consciousness, and as time is divisible ad infinitum^ whatever minimum be taken, there must be admitted to be, beyond the cognizance of con- sciousness, intervals of time, in which, if mental agen- cies be performed, these will bo latent to conscious- ness. If we suppose that the minimum of time, to which consciousness can descend, l)e an interval called six, and that six dilfercnt movements be performed in this interval, these, it is evident, will appear to loi\- sciousness as a simple, indivisible point of modilied time ; precisely as the minimum visihile appears as an indivisible point of modified space. And, as in the extended parts of the minimum visihile, each must determine a certain modification on the percipient sub- ject, seeing that the effect of the whole is only the 104 AN OUTLINE OF conjoined effect of its parts, in like manner, the pro- tended parts of each conscious instant, — of each dis- thiguishable minimum of time, — though themselves beyond the ken of consciousness, must contribute to give the character to the whole mental state which that instant, that minimum, comprises. This being understood, it is easy to sec hoAv wc lose the con- sciousness of the several acts, in the rapid succession of many of our habits and dexterities. At first, and before the habit is acquired, every act is slow, and we are conscious of the effort of dcliI)eration, choice, and volition ; by degrees, the mind proceeds with less vacillation and uncertainty ; at length, the acts l)ecome secure and precise : in proportion as this takes place, the velocity of the procedure is increased, and as this acceleration rises, the individual acts drop one by one from consciousness, as Ave lose the leaves in retiring further and farther from the tree ; and, at last, wc arc only aware of the general state which re- sults from these unconscious operations, as wc can at last only perceive the greenness which results from the unpcrccived leaves. {Led. on Mefaph., XVIII. and XIX.) § 2. EXPLANATION OF llETENTION. But if it cannot be denied that the knowledsfe we have acquired by Perception and Belf-consciousness does actually continue, though out of consciousness, to endure, can we, in the second place, find any ground on whicli to explain the possibility of tliis en- durance? I think we caii, and shall adduce such an • SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON'S miLOSOPnY. 105 Irre "sve lisncss Isucss, la any liis cu- licli ail I ' explanation, founded on the general analogies of our mental nature. The phenomenon of retention is in- deed so natural on the ground of the self-energy of mind, that we have no need to suppose any special faculty for memory ; the conservation of tlie action of the mind being involved in the very conception of its power of self-activity. Let us consider how knowledge is acquired by the mind. Knowledge is not acquired by ti mere passive affection, but through the exertion of spontaneous ac- tivity on the part of the knowing subject ; for though this activity be not exerted without some external ox- citation, still this excitation is onlv the occasion on which the mind develops its self-energy. But this energy being once determined, it is natural that it should persist, until again annihilated by other causes. This M'ould, in fact, be the case, were the mind merely passive in the impression it receives ; for it is a universal law of nature, that every effect endures as long as it is not modified or opposed by any other ef- fect. But the mental activity, the act of knowledge, of which I now speak, is more than this ; it is an energy of the self-active poAver of a subject one and indivisible j consequently, a part of tlie Ego must be detached or annihilated, if a cognition once existent be again extinguished. Hence it is, that (he prohlem most difficult of solution is not, hoiv a mental activity endures, hut hoio it ever vanishes. The solution of this problem is to be sought for in the theoiy of obscure or latent modifications of mind. The disappearance of internal energies from the view of internal perception does not warrant the conclusion % "T- I f . m 106 AX OUTLINE OF tliiit tlioy no longer exist. Every mental activity be- longs to the one vital activity of mind in genenil ; it is, therefore, indivisibly bound up with it, and can neither be torn from, nor abolished in, it. But the mind is only capable, at any one moment, of exerting a certain quantity or degree of force. Tliis quantity must, therefore, be divided among the different activ- ities, so that each has only a part ; and the sum of force belonging to all the several activities taken to- gether is equal to the quantity or degree of force be- longing to the vital activity of mind in general. Thus, in proportion to the greater number of activities in the mind, the less will be the proportion of force which will accrue to each ; the feebler, therefore, each \A\\ be, and the fainter the vivacity with which it can affect self-consciousness. This weakening of vivacity can, in consccpience of the indefinite increase in the number of our mental activities, caused ])y the ceaseless excitation of the mind to new knowledge, be carried to an indefinite tenuity, without the activities, therefore, ceasing altogether to be. Thus it is quite natural that the great proportion of our mental cog- nitions should have waxed too feeble to affect our in- ternal perception with the competent intensity ; it is quite natural that they should have become o1)Scurc or delitescent. In these circumstances, it is to bo supposed, that every new cognition, every newly ex- cited activity, should be in the greatest vivacity, and should draw to itself the greatest amount of force ; this force will, in the same proportion, be witlidrawu from the other earlier cognitions ; and it is they, con- L'CUSC the >-e, be 'itics, quite cog- uv iu- itis )SClll'C to ho ly ex- y, tiiul brcc ; idniwn , con- Srn MlLLTAyT nAMILTOS^S rniLOSOPHY. 107 seqncntly, which must undergo the fate of obscura- tion. In further explanation of this faculty I would annex two observations which arise out of the prcccdiug the- ory. 1. The first is, that retention does not belong alone • to the coixnitive faculties, but that the same law ex- tends in like manner over all the three primary classes of mental phenomena. It is not cognitions only, but feelings and conations, which are held fast, and which can, therefore, be again awakened. This fact, of the conservation of our practical modifications, is not in- deed denied ; but psychologists usually so represent the matter, as if, when feelings or conations are re- tained in the mind, that this takes place only through the medium of the memory ; meaning by this, that we must, first of all, have had notions of these afiec- tious, which notions being preserved, they, when recalled to mind, do again aw^aken the modification they represent. From the theory I have detailed to you, it must be seen that there is no need of tliis in- termediation of notions, but that we immediately re- tain feelings, volitions, and desires, no less than notions and cognitions ; inasmuch as all the three classes of fundamental phenomena arise equally out of the vital manifestations of the same one and indi- visible subject. 2. The second result of this theory is, that the va- rious attempts to explain memory l)y physiological hypotheses are as unnecessar}' as they are untenable. This is not the place to discuss the general problem touching the relation of mind and body. But in prox- 108 AN OUTLINE OF h imatc refei'cncG to memory, it may be satisfactory to show, that this faculty docs not stand in need of such crude modes of explanation. It must he allowed, that no faculty affords a more tempting subject for mate- rialistic conjecture. No other mental power betrays a greater dependence on corporeal conditions than memory. Not only, in general, does its vigorous or feeble activity essentially depend on the health and indisposition of the body, more especially of tlu; ner- vous systems ; but there is manifested a connection between certain functions of memory and certain parts of the cerebral apparatus. This connection, however, is such as alSbrds no countenance to any particular hypotheses at present in vogue. For example, after certain diseases, or certain affections of the brain, some partial loss of rnoiiiory takes place. Perhaps the patient loses the whole of his stock of knowledge previous to the disease, tlie faculty of acquiring and retaining new information remaining entire. Perhaps he loses the memory of words, and preserves that of things. Perhaps he may retain the memory of nouns, and lose that of ver))s, or vice versa; nay, Avhat is still more marvellous, though it is not a very uufre- quent occurrence, one language may be taken neatly out of his retention, without affecting his memory of others. By such observations, the older psycholo- gists were led to the various physiological hypotheses by which they hoped to account for the phenomena of retention, — as, for example, the hypothesis of per- manent material impressions on the brain, — or of permanent dispositions in the nervous fil)res to repeat the same oscillatory movements, — of particular or- * I f Srn WILLIAM HAMILTOX'S miLosopnr. 109 guns for the different functions of memory, — of par- ticular parts of the brain as the repositories of tlio various classes of ideas,— or even of a particular fibre as the instrument of every several notion. But all these hypotheses betray only an ignorance of the proper object of philosophy, and of the true natm-e of the thinking principle. They are at best l)ut useless ; for if the unity and self-activity of mind be not denied, it is manifest, that the mental activities, which have been once determined, must persist, and these corpo- real explanations are superfluous. (Lect. on Metanh.. XXX.) ^ ' H ' I wm PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE COGNITIONS. CHAPTER III. i; tl^ ii 1 THE REPRODUCTIVE FACULTY. I NOW pass to the next fiicuUy in order, — the fac- ulty which I have called the Reproductive. I am not satisfied with this name ; for it does not precisely, of itself, mark what I wish to be expressed, — namely, the process 'bv which what is Ivini? dormant in, mem- ory is awakened, as contradistinguished from the rep- resentation in consciousness of it as awakened. Perhaps the Resuscitative Faculty wonld have been better ; and the term lieprodudlon might have been employed to comprehend the whole process, made up of the correlative acts of Retention, Rcsnscitation, and Representation. Be this, however, as it may, I shall at present continue to emplo}' the term in the limited meaning I have alreadv assigned. Every one is conscious of a ceaseless snccession or train of thoughts, one thouirht suuircsting another, which again is the cause of exciting a third, and so on. Bnt if thoughts and feelings and conations (for you must observe, that the train is not limited to the phe- 110 yl.V OUTLISE OF nAMlLTOX S PfllLOSOP/IY. Ill uoiiiena of cognition only) do notarise of themselves, but only in causal connection with preceding and siilj- scqueut moditications of mind, it remains to be asked and answered, — Do the links of this chain follow each other under any other condition tlian that of sim- ple connection? — in other words, inctf/ any thoufin\ fedinffy w desire he connecled with any other? Or .'.>• the succession regulated by other and special law.", ac- cording to which certain kinds of modilication exclu- sively precede, and exclusively follow, each other? The slightest observation of the phenomenon shows that the latter alternative is the case ; and on this all philosophers are agreed. Nor do philosophers diller in roe classitied, and carried up into system. This, therefore, is the question to which I shall address myself. (Lect. on 3fetaj)h.,XX^X^l.) The relations, on the ground of which one thouirht suggests another, give us what may be called the jyrimary laws of liejii'oduction; ])ut when several thoughts are all capable of being suggested by another, as all equally related by the primary laws, what de- termines which of these thoughts shall actually be suggested? The principles that determine this may l>e named secondary laics of P jwod action.^ m ' In this paragraph I have atteniptcd an explicit definition of the distinction, as drawn by Hamilton, between tlie primary and tlie sec- ondaiy law, of reproduction. — J. C. M. 112 AX OUTLINE OF § 1. riuMAiiY LAirs OF jiEPrionrrrinx. Tlicro nro tliroo subjective unities^ ivholes, or identi- tie8, each of whlcli aftbrds a grouiul of chronological succession, and reciprocal suggestion, to tlie several thoughts which they comprehend in one. In other words. Reproduction has three sources. These arc (1.) The unily of thoughts, differing in time and mod- ification, in a co-identity of Suij.tkct ; (2.) Tlie unity of thoughts, differing in time, in a co-identily of ^NIou- ification; (3.) The unity of thoughts, dillcring in modijication, in a co-identity of Time. The three unities thus characterized constitute three (A) Geneual Laavs of llEriiODur/noN. I. Law of Possible Repuoduction. Of these unities the^r.s'^ affords a common principle of the pos- sibility of association, or mutual suggestion for all our mental movements, however different in their charac- ter as moditications, however remote in the times of their occurrence ; for all, even the most heterogene- ous aiul most distant, are reproducible, co-suggestihJe, or associable, as, and only as, phenomena of the same unity of consciousness, — affections of the same indi- visible Ego. There thus emerges the Law of Asso- ciABiLiTY OR POSSIBLE Co-SuGGESTiox : AU thoughts of the same mental subject are associable, or ca])able of suggesting one another. II. Laws of Actual Reproduction. But the unity of subject, the fundamental condition of the as- sociability of thought in general, affords no reason i i sin WILLIAM IIAMILTOX S VIIlLOSol'IIY. 113 why this partlcuhir thought should, de facto, recall or suggest that. We require, therefor;.', besides a law of possil)le, a law or laws of adnal Itej^rodudion. Two sueh are afforded in the two other unities, — those of ModifiC(d!on and of Time. And now let us, for the sake of subsequent refer- ence, pause a moment to state the following symbolic illustration : — ABC >le, mie idi- sso- Ilere the same letter, repeated in perpendicular or- der, is intended to denote the same mental mode, brought into consciousness, represented, at different times. Here the different letters, in horizontal order, arc supposed to designate the partial thoughts inte- grant of a total mental state, and therefore coexistent or immediatcl// consequent, at the moment of its actual realization. This being nnderstood, we proceed : — Of these two unities that of modification aflbrds the ground, why, for example, an object determining a mental modification of a certain coiiiplement and char- acter to-day, this presentation tends to call up the representation of the same modification determined by that oljject yesterday. Or suppose, as in our sym- bols, the three A's to typify the same thought, deter- mined at three different times, be the determining movement of a presentation or a representation. On the second occasion. A' will suggest the representation of A. This it will not be denied that it can do ; for, 8 ''.il nil 114 Ay OVTLTXE OF 'I' on the possi1)ility hereof clepcnds tlic jiossibility of simjylti rememhrance. The total tlioiight, aftcf this sn*»gestIoii, will be A' -j- A ; and on the third occa- sion, A" may suggest A' and A ; Loth on this princi- ple, and on that other which we are innnediatcly to consider, of co-identity in time. AVc have thus, as a first general law of actual Reproduction, Suggestion, or Association : — 1. The Laav of Ivepetition on of DinECT Ke- jiEMBiJANCE : TJtougJits, co-ident'ical in modijication, hut differiiKj i)i time, tend to suggest each other. The unity of time afKnxls the ground why thoughts, dillerent in their character as mental modes, but hav- ing once l)een proximately coexistent (including under coexistence immediate consecution) as the parts of some total thought, — and a totality of thought is determined even by a unity of time, — do, when recalled into consciousness, tend innnediatcly to suaii'cst each other, as co-constituents of that former whole, and mediately, that whole itself. Thus let (A, B, C, D, E, F) be supposed a complement of such concomitant thoughts. If A be recalled into consciousness, A will tend to reawaken B, B to re- awaken C, and so on, until the whole formerly co- existent series has been reinstated, or the mind di- verted by some stronger movement on some other train. AVe lur^e thus, as a second general law of ac- tual Reproduction, Suggestion, or Association, — 2. The Law of Kedintegkation, of Indirect EE-AIE^MnKANCE, OR OF REMINISCENCE : TliOWjUtS, once co-idcntic(d in time, are, however different as men- sin WILLIAM HAMILTON^ S miLOSOPIIY. 115 IS tlie ity of — do, tcly to tbrmcv us let cut of a into to rc- rly co- liina tli- c other v of uc- JDIIIECT as wieH- tal modes, again suggestive of each other, and that in the mutual order lohich they originally held. Philosophers, in generalizing the phenomena of re- production, have, if the exception of Aristotle be ad- mitted, of these two, exclusively regarded the law of Redintegration. That of Repetition Avas, however, equally worthy of their consideration. For the exci- tation of the same by the same, dilicring in time, is not less marvellous than the excitation of the differ- ent by the different, identical in time. It was a prin- ciple, too, equally indispensable to explain the phe- non)cna. ior the attempts to reduce these to the law of Redintegration alone will not stand the test of criticism ; since the reproduction of thought by thought, as disjoined in time, cannot be referred to the reproduction of thought b}^ thought, as conjoined in time. Accordingly vvc shall find, in coming to de- tail, that some phenomena arc saved by the law of Repetition alone, while others require a combination of the two laws of Repetition and Redintegration. Such combinations of these tAvo laws constitute the (B) Special Laws of Repkoduction. The laws under this head arc, — I. The Law of Similars: Things, — thow/hls, resembling each other (he the resemblance simjyle or an- alogical), are mutualhj si'gges/ive. From Aristotle downwards, all who have written on Suggestion, whether intentional or spontaneous, have recognized the association of similar objects. But whilst all have thus fairly acknowledged the ef- fect, none, I think (if Aristotle be not a singular exception) , have speculated aright as to the cause. i^ IIG AN OUTLINE OF \ \\ 111 general, Similarity has been lightly assumed, lightly laid down, as one of the ultimate principles of associations. Nothing, however, can be clearer than that resembling objects, — resembling mental moditi- cations, — being, to us, in their resembling points, identical, they must, on the principle of Repetition, call up each other. This, of course, refers principally to suggestion/or the first time. Subsequently, Redinte- gration co-oporatcs with Repetition ; for noiv the re- sembling parts have formed io^Qiliav parts of the same mental whole, and are^ moreover, associated both as similar and as contrasted. II. The Law of Contrast: Things, — thoughts, contrasted loith each other {he the contrast one of con- trariety or of contradiction^ , are mutually suggestive. 1 . All contrast is of things contained under a com- mon notion. Qualities are contrasted only as they are similar. A good horse and a bad syllogism have no contrast. Virtue and vice agree as moral attri- butes ; great and little agree as quantities, and as ex- traordinary deflections from ordinary quantity. Even existence and non-existence are not opposed as difier- ent genera, but only as species of existence, — posi- tive existence and negative oistence. Conspecies thus (as wolf and dog) may be associated either as similars or as contraries, — similars as opposed to ani- mals of other genera, — contraries as opposed to each other. Contraries are thus united under a higher no- tion. 2. Aflirmation of any quality involves the negation of its contradictory, — the affirmation of goodness is virtually the negation of badness ; and many terms sin WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PniLOSOPHT. 117 for the contradictory qualities are only negations and affirmations, — just, unjust, — finite, infinite, — par- tial, impartial. Hence logical contradictory opposi- tion is even a stronger association than logical con- trariety, because only between two. 3. Contrast is a relation, — the knowledge of con- traries is one. 4. Consciousness is only of the distinguishable ; and therefore contrast most clearly distinguished must heighten consciousness. III. The Law of Co-adjaceno¥ : Things, — thoughts, related to each other as Cause and Effect, Whole and Parts, Suhstayice and Attribute, Sign and /Signified, are mutually suggestive. § 2. SECONDARY LAWS OF REPRODUCTION. In obedience to the primary laws, movements sug- gest and are suggested in proportion to the strictness of the dependency between that prior and this poste- rior. But such general relation between two thoughts — and on which are founded the two Abstract or Primary laws of Repetition and Redintegration — is frequently crossed, is frequently superseded, by an- other, and that a particular relation, which determines the suggestion of a movement not warranted by any dependence on its antecedent. To complete the laws of reproduction wc must therefore recognize, as a Secondary or Concrete principle, what may be st} led (under protest, for it is hardly deserving of the title Law), The Law of Preference: Thoughts are suggested, not merely by force of the general subjective ii 118 AN OUTLINE OF \\ ! relation subsisting between themselves; they are also suggested injiroportion to the relation of interest (from whatever source) in which these stand to the individual mind. This general law of Preference yields, as its modes, the special secondary laws ; for, under the laws of possibility, one thought being associated with a phiral- ity, and each of that plurality being therefore suggest- ible, it suggests one in preference to another according to two laws: (1.) By relation to itself, the thought most strictly associated with itself; (2.) liy relation to mind, the thought most easily suggestible. That there must bo two laws, is shown, because two associ- ated thoughts do not suggest each other with equal force. B may be very strongly associated with A, but A very slightly associated with B. This is two- fold ; (1.) in order of time, (2.) in order of interest. (A) Under the Jirst head, that of suggestion by re- lation to the thought suggesting, may be stated the fol- lowing special laws : — I. The Law of Imjiediacy : Of tivo thoughts, if the one be inwiediately, the other mediately, connected with a third, the first ivill be suggested by the third in preference to the second. II. The Law of Homogeneity : A thought will suggest another of the same order in preference to one of a different order. Thus a smell will sucfcrest a smell, a sisfht a si^jht, an imagination an imagination, in preference to a thouii'ht of a different class. (B) Under the second head, that of suggestion by relation to the mind, may be stated, as a special law, sin WILLIAM n.lMlLTOX's I'lULOSOPIIY. 119 The Law of Facility : A thought easier to suggest will be roused in preference to a more difficult one. The easier are I. Those more clearly, stronghj impresi^ed than the reverse. Such are ideas more undistractedly, atten- tively received; in youth, in the morning; assisted by novelty, wonder, passion, etc. Hence, also, sights are more casil}' suggested than smells, imaginations than thoughts, etc. II. Those more recent, than older (cceteris par- ibus). III. Those wzore frequently rejyeated frceleris par- ibus) . lY. Those which stand more isolated from foreign and thwarting thoughts. y. Those which are more connected with homoge- neous and assisting thoughts. VI. Those more interesting to (1.) natural cogni- tive powers, talents ; (2.) acquired luibits of cognition, studies ; (3.) temporary line of occupation. VII. Those more in harmony with afFective dispo- sitions, (1.) natural, (2.) habitual, (3.) temporary.^ (lieid's Works, Note D***.) ' It is duo to Sir William Hamilton to boar in mind, tliat his the- ory of the laws of reproduction seems never to have been vorked into a form perfectly satisfactory to himself. Nearly all that relates to tlic secondary laws, as well as to the special primary laws, is left in an unfinished state. The exposition in reference to these points, which I have given, is taken, with a few alterations and additions of expression, from the fragments obtained by Mr. Mansel among Sir William's papers. — J. C. M. 4 ! .HI . HiiY J 1 :M 1. 120 AN OUTLINE OF § 3. DISTINCTION OF SUOGESTION AND liEMINISCENCE. I;; The faculty of llcprocluctiou may be considered as operating either spontaneously, witiiout any interfer- ence of the will, or as modified in its action l>y the in- tervention of volition. In the one case, as in the other, the Reproductive Faculty acts in subservience to its own laws. In the former case, one thought is allowed to suggest another, according to the greater general connection subsisthig between them; in the latter, the act of volition, by concentrating attention upon a certain determinate class of associating circum- stances, bestows on these circumstances an extraordi- nary vivacity, and, consequently, enables them to ob- tain the preponderance, and exclusively to determine the succession of the intellectual train. The former of these cases, where the Reproductive Faculty is left wholl}' to itself, may not improperly l)e called Spon- taneous Suggestion, or Suggestion simply ; the latter ought to obtain the name of Reminiscence or Recol- lection. To form a correct notion of the phenomena of Rem- iniscence, it is requisite that we consider under what conditions it is determined to exertion. In the first place, it is to be noted that, at every crisis of our ex- istence, momentary circumstances are the causes which awaken our activity, and set our recollection at work to ^ '.;;•,' the necessaries of thought. In the second ;■ If e,, ! 's as constituting a want (and by icant, I Ui- r i r.c ji'sult either of an act of desire or of voli- tio '^^ n;: die determining circumstance tends prin- SIR mZLIAM nAMILTOX S P/IILOSOPnY. 121 cipally to awaken the thoughts with which it is asso- ciated. This being the case, we should expect tliat eacli circumstance which constitutes a want should suggest, likewise, tlic notion of an object, or ol)jects, proper to satisfy it ; and this is Avliat actually hap- pens. It is, however, further to bo observed, that it . is not enough that the want suggests the idea of the object; for if that idea were alone, it would remain without effect, since it could not guide me in the pro- cedure I should follow. It is necessary, at the same time, that to the idea of this object there should be associated the notion of the relation of this object to the want, of the place where I may find it, of the means by which I may procure it, and turn it to ac- count, etc. For instance, I wisli to make a quota- tion : this want jiwakens in me the idea of the author in whom the passage is to be found, Avliich I am de- sirous of citing ; but this idea would be fruitless, un- less there were conjoined, at the same time, the representation of the volume, of the place where I may obtain it, of the means 1 nnist employ, etc. Hence I infer, in the first place, that a want does not awaken an idea of its object alone, but that it awakens it accompanied Avith a number, more or less considerable, of accessory notions, which f(jrm, as it were, its train or attendance. This train maj' vary accord ini"' to the nature of the Avant which suiri!:ests the notion of an ol)ject ; but the train can never fall wholly off, and it becomes more indissolubly attached to the object, in proportion as it has been more fre- quently called up in attendance. I infer, in the second place, that this accompani- i i ii 1$ m ':-"H 122 AN OUTLIKE OF niont of accessory notions, simultaneously suggested with the principal idea, is far from being as vividly and distinctly represented in consciousness as that idea itself; and when these accessories have once been completely blended with the habits of the mind, and its reproductive agency, they at length finally dis- appear, becoming fused, as it were, in the conscious- ' ness of the idea to which the}' are attached. Thus, if we appreciate correctly the plienomena of Reproduction or Reminiscence, Ave shall recognize, as an incontestable fact, that our thoujrhts suac'cst each other, not one by one successively, as the order to which language is astricted might lead us to infer ; but that the complement of circumstances, under which we at every moment exist, awakens simultaneously a great number of thoughts ; these it calls into the presence of the mind, either to place them at our dis- posal, if we find it requisite to employ them, or to make them co-operate in our deliberations, by giving them, according to their nature and our htil)its, an influence, more or less active, on our judgments and consequent acts. It is also to be observed, that, in this great crowd of thoughts always present to the mind, there is only a small number of which we are distinctly conscious ; and that, in this small numl)er, we ought to distinguish those which, being clothed in language oral or men- tal, become the objects of a more fixed attention; those Avhich hold a closer relation to circumstances more impressive than others ; or which receive a pre- dominant character by the more vigorous attention we bestow on them. As to the others, although not the sin WILLIAM Hamilton's rniLosopuY. 123 objects of clear consciousness, they arc nevertheless present to the mind, there to perform a very impor- tant part as motive principles of determination ; and the influence which they exert in this capacity is even the more powerful in proportion as it is less apparent, being more disguised by habit. (Led. on Metanh' XXXII.) ^ .if 11 \ "> 1 f r. i 1 1 «F 11 1 '; ;l PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE COGNITIONS. CHAPTER IV. THE REPRESENTATIVE FACULTY. ■!l S I'' By the faculty of Representation, as I formerly men- tioned, I mean strictly the power the mind has of holding up vividly before itself the thoughts Avhich, by the act of Reproduction, it has recalled into con- sciousness. Though the processes of Representation and Reproduction cannot exist independently of each other, they are nevertheless not more to be confounded into one than those of Reproduction and Conservation. They are, indeed, discriminated by differences suffi- ciently decisive. Reproduction, as we have seen, op- crates, in part at least, out of consciousness. Repre- sentation, on the contrary, is only realized as it is realized in consciousness ; the degree or vivacity of the Representation being always in proportion to the degree or vivacity of our consciousness of its reality. Nor are the energies of Representation and Reproduction always exerted by the same individual in equal inten- sity, any more than the energies of Reproduction and Retention. Some minds are distinguished for a higher 124 Ay OVTLISE OF HAMILTOS S rniLOSOPHY. 123 power of manifesting one of these phenomena ; others, for manifesting another ; antl as it is not always tlie l>er.sou who forgets notliing.Avho can most promptly recall what he retains, so neither is it always the per- son who recollects most easily antl correctly who can exhibit what he remembers in the most vivid colors. It is to be recollected, however, that Retention, JJe- production, and Representation, though not in diller- cnt persons of the same relative vigor, arc, however, in the same individuals, all strong or weak in refer- ence to the same classes of objects. For example, if a man's memory be more peculiarly retentive of words, his verbal reminiscence and imagination will, in like manner, be more particularly energetic. lu common language, it is not of course to be ex- pected that there should be found terms to express the result of an analysis Avhich had not even been per- formed by philosophers ; and, accordingly, the term Imayinaf.ion, or Phantasy, Avhich denotes most nearly the Representative process, does this, how- ever, not without an admixture of other processes, which it is of consequence for scientific precision that ■we should consider apart. lu the view I take of the fundamental processes, the act of Representation is merely the energy of the mind in holding up to its own contemplation what it is determined to represent. I distinguish, as essen- tially different, the Representation and the determi- nation to represent. I exclude from the Faculty of Representation all power of preference among the ob- jects it holds up to view. This is the function of faculties wholly different from that of Representation, m 126 Ay OVTUXK OF Avhicli, tljon^'li iictivo in roi)ros('iitinorous coiitli- ; poet- Y Avcrc . The ipplicd Faculty italions ){irison. lot fre- tcnn in itiou to IIuuiG : c flidits sion of bright those ovoring to so iiirtuy on, — tit nsivc iu- lise oftcu sugges- siR WILLIAM Hamilton's rniLosopjir. 129 lion that it is clcvclopecl and accomplished. Dreams have frequently a degree of vivacit; which enables them to compete with the reality ; ai.d if the events which they represent to us Avere in accordance Avitli the circumstances of time and plate in which we stand, it would be almost impos.sil)lc to distinguish a vivid dream from a sensible perception. " If," sa3^s Pascal, " Ave dreamt every night the same thing, it Avould per- haps aftoct us as powerfully as the objects which Ave perceive every day. And if an artisan Averc certain of di'caming every night for tAvelve hours that he Avas a king, I am convinced that he Avould be almost as happy as a hing Avho dreamt for tAvelve hours that he Avas an artisan It is only because dreams are different and inconsistent, that Ave can say, when Avo aAvake, that avo have dreamt; for life is a dream a little less inconstant." The influence of dreams upon our character is not Avithout its interest. A particular tendency may be strengthened in a man solely by the repeated action of dreams. Dreams do not, however, as is commonly sui)posed, afford any appreciable indication of the character of individuals. It is not ahva3's the subjects that occupy us most AA'hen aAvakc that form the mat- ter of our dreams ; and it is curious that the persons the dearest to us are precisely those about Avhom Ave dream most rarely. 2. Somnambulism is a phenomenon still more as- tonishing. In this singular state, a person performs a regular series of rational actions, and those fre- quently of the most difficult and delicate nature, and, Avhat is still more marvellous, Avith a talent to Avhich 1) Ml I' 'K I i ! I 130 AN OUTLINE OF he could make no pretension when awake. His mem- ory and reminiscence supply him with recollections of words and things which perhaps were never at his disposal in t]>e ordinary state ; he speaks more fluently a more refined language ; and, if we are to credit what the evidence on which it rests hardly allows lis to disbelieve, he has not only per- ceptions through other channels than the common or- gans of sense, but tlie sphere of his cognitions is am- plified to an extent far beyond the limits to which sensible perception is confined. This subject is one of the most perplexing in the whole compass of phi- losophy ; for, on the one hand, the phenomena are so marvellous that they cannot be believed, and yet, on the other, they are of so unambiguous and palpable a character, and the witnesses to their reality are so numerous, so intelligent, and so high above every suspicion of deceit, that it is equally impossi1)le to deny credit to what is attested by such ample and un- exceptionable evidence. 3. Reverie. The third state, that of Reverie, or castle-building, is a kind of waking dream, and does not diifer from dreaming, except by the consciousness which accompanies it. In this state, the mind aban- dons itself without a choice of subject, without control over the mental train, to the involuntary associa- tions of imagination. It is thus occupied without being properly active ; it is active, at least, Avithout efibrt. Young persons, women, the old, the unem- ployed, and the idle, are all disposed to reverie. There is a pleasure attached to its illusions, which renders it as seductive as it is dangerous. The mind, sin mLLIAM ITAAflLTOX S rJIILOSOPnY, 131 itions er at more e are rests ypcr- .011 or- is am- Avliich , is one of phi- i are so yet, on lalpable ' arc so } every sible to and un- crie, or iitl does Loiisness id al)an- control associa- witlioiit witliont unem- rcverie. , which ic mind, by indulgence in this dissipation, becomes enervated; it acquires the habit of a pleasing idleness, loses its activity, and at length even the power and the desire of action. Organs of I:\rAGiKATiox. I shall terminate the consideration of Imagination Proper by a speculation concerning the organ which it employs in the repre- sentations of scnsiWo objects. The organ which it thus employs seems to be no other than the organs themselves of Sense, on which the original impressions w^ere made, and through which they were originally perceived. Experience has shown that Imagination depends on no one part of the cerebral apparatus ex- clu.sivel3\ There is no portion of tlie brain which has not l)eeii destrovcd bv mollification, or induration, or external lesion, without the general faculty of Repre- sentation Ijcing injured. But experience equally proves* that the intracranial portion of any external organ of sense cannot be destroyed without a certain partial abolition of the Imagination Proper. For ex- ample, there are many cases recorded by medical ob- servers, of persons losing their siglit, who have also lost the faculty of representing the images of visible objects. They no longer call up such objects l)y remi- niscence ; they no longer dream of them. Now, in these cases, it is found that not merely the external instrument of sight — the eye — has been disorgan- ized, but that the disorganization has extended to those parts of the brain which constitute the internal instrument of this sense, that is, the optic nerves and thalami. If the latter — the real organ of vision — remain sound, the eye alone being destroyed, the im- if ft ■i 132 ^.V OUTLINE OF HAMILTON S PniLOSOmY. agination of colors and forms remains as vigorous as when vision was entire. Similar cases are recorded in regard to the deaf. These facts, added to the ob- servation of the internal phenomena which take place during our acts of representation, make it, I think, more than pro])able that there are as many organs of Imagination as there are organs of Sense. Thus I have a distinct consciousness, that, in the internal representation of visible objects, the same organs are at work which operate in the External Perception of these ; and the same holds "jood in an ima^^ination of the objects of Hearing, Touch, Taste, and Smell. But not only sensible perceptions, voluntary mo- tions, likewise, are imitated in and by the imagination. I can, in imagination, represent the action of speech, the play of the muscles of the countenance, the move- ment of the limbs ; and when I do this, I feel clearly that I awaken a kind of tension in the same nerves through which, by an act of will, I can determine an overt and voluntary motion of the muscles ; nay, when the play of imagination is very lively, this ex- ternal movement is actually determined. Tlius we frequently see the countenances of persons, under the influence of imagination, iindergo various changes ; they gesticulate with their hands, they talk to them- selves, and all this is in consequence only of the im- agined activity going out into real activity. I should, therefore, be disposed to conclude, that, as in Percep- tion, the living organs of sense arc from without de- termined to energy, so, in Imagination, they are de- termined to a similar energy by an influence from within. {Led. on Metajih., XXXIII.) IS as rded 3 ob- [)lace liink, lis of lius I tcrnal lis are on of ion of I. y mo- ult ion. pcech, move- clearly nerves line an nay, lis ex- lius we iler the anges ; tliem- lio im- Ishould, 'crcep- ut de- iire de- le from PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE COGNITIONS. CHAPTER V. THE ELABOEATIVE FACULTY. The faculties with which we have hccii hitherto engaged may be regarded as subsidiary to that which we are now about to consider. This, to which I gave the name of the Elaborative Faculty, the Faculty of Relations, or Comparison, constitutes what is properly denominated Thought, and corresponds to what the Greek philosophers understood by Stdvota, the Latin by Discursus. It supposes always at least two terms, and its act results in a judgment, that is, an affirma- tion or negation of one of those terms of the otiicr. In opposition to the views hitherto promulijMted in regard to Comparison, I will show that this faculty is at work in every, the simplest, act of mind ; and that from the primary affirmation of existence in an origi- nal act of consciousness to the judgment contained in the conclusion of an act of reasoning, every operation is only an evolution of the same elementary process, — that there is a diflference in the complexit}', none in the nature of the act. What I have, therefore, to 133 134 ^JV OUTLIKE OF prove is, in the first place, that Comparison is sup- posed in every, the simplest, act of knowledge ; in the second., that our factitiously simple, our ftictitiously complex, our al)stract, and our generalized notions are all merely so many products of Comparison ; in the third, that Judgment, and, in tlie fourth, that Reasoning, is identical with Comparison. § 1. rniMAHY .'^'''''.S OF COMPARISON. 1. The^r.9^ or mos' c^v^o ontary act of Comparison, or of that mental process in which the relation of two terms is recognized and afi met',, i . the judgment vir- tually pronounced, in an act of Perception, of the Non-ego, or, in an act of Self-consciousness, of the Ego. This is the primary affirmation of existence. The notion of existence is one native to the mind. It is the primary condition of thought. The first act of experience aAvokc it, and the first act of consciousness ■was a subsumption of that of which we were conscious under this notion ; in other words, the first act of consciousness Avas an affirmation of the existence of somctliing. The first or simplest act of Comparison is thus the discrimination of existence from non-ex- istence ; and the first or simplest judgment is the affirmation of existence, in other Avords, the denial of non-existence. 2. But the something of which we are conscious, and of which we predicate existence, in the primary judgment, is twofold, — the Ego and the Non-ego. We are conscious of both, and affi^n existence of both. But we do more ; we do not merelv affirm the sin WILLIAM HAMILTON S PniLOSOPHY. 135 existence of each out of relation to the other, but, in aflSrming their existence, we affirm their existence in duality, in difference, in mutual contrast ; that is, we not only affirm the Ego to exist, but deny it existing as the Non-ego ; we not only affirm the Non-ego to exist, but deny it existing as the Ego. The second act of Comparison is thus the discrimination of the Ego and the Non-ego ; and the second judgment is the affirmation that each is not the other. 3. The third gradation in the act of Comparison is in the recognition of the multiplicity of the coexistent or successive phenomena, presented either to Percep- tion or Self-consciousness, and the judgment in regard to their resemblance or dissimilarity. 4. Tha fourth is the Comparison of the phenomena with the native notion of Substance, and the judgment is the grouping of these phenomena into different bun- dles, as the attributes of different subjects. In the external world this relation constitutes the distinction of things ; in the internal, the distinction of pow- ers. 5. The ffth act of Comparison is the collation of successive phenomena under the native notion of Caus- ality, and the affirmation or negation of their mutual relation as cause and effect. ■' I in) m § 2. CLASSIFICATION. So far, the process of Comparison is determined merely by objective conditions ; hitherto, it has fol- lowed only in the footsteps of nature. In those, again, we are now to consider, the procedure is, in a eltj 136 AN OUTLINE OF cci'tiihi sort, artificial, and (l.ctcrmincd hy the nocossi- ties of tiiG thinking subject itself. Thvi mind is Unite in its powers of comprehension; the ohjccts, on the contrary, which are presented to it, are, in proportion to its limited capacities, infinite in number. How, then, is this disproportion to be equalized? How can the infinity of nature be brought down to the finitude of man? This is done by means of Classification. Objects, though infinite in number, are not infinite in variety ; they are all, in a certain sort, repetitions of the same common qualities, and the mind, though lost in the multitude of individuals, can easily grasp the classes into which their resembling attributes enable us to assort them. This whole process of Classifica- tion is a mere act of Comparison, as the following de- duction will shoAV. (A) Collective Notions. In the first place, this may be shown in regard to the formation of complex notions, with which, as the simplest species of classi- fication, we may commence. By Complex or Collec- tive notions I mean merely the notion of a class formed by the repetition of the same constituent notion. Such are the notions of an army, a fared, a foivn, a number. These arc the names of classes, formed by the repetition of the notion of a soldier, of a tree, of a house, of a unit. You are not to confound, as has sometimes been done, the notion of «7i army, a for- est, a town, a number, with the notions of army , forest^ town, and number; the former, as I have said, are complex or collective, the latter are general or univer- sal notions. It is evident that a collective notion is the result of sn: m/.i.iA.v hamiltox s rniLosornr. VM are coiiiparisou. The repetition of the same constitueiit uotioii supposes that these notions were compared, their identity or absoUite similarity affirmed. In the whole process of classification the mind is in a great measure dependent upon language for its suc- cess ; and in this, the simplest of the acts of Classifica- tion, it may bo proper to show how language ailbrds to mind the assistance it requires. Our complex no- tions being formed by the repetition of the same notion, it is evident that the difficulty we can experience in forming an adequate conception of a class of identical constituents will be determined by the difficulty wo have in conceiving a multitude. The comprehension of the mind is limited ; it cau embrace at once but a small number of objects. It would thus seem that an obstacle is raised to the extension of our complex ideas at the very outset of our combinations. How, then, does the mind proceed? When, by a first combina- tion, wc have obtained a complement of notions as complex as the mind can embrace, we give this com- plement a name. This being done, we regard the as- semblage of units thus bound np under a collective name as itself a unit, and proceed, by a second combi- nation, to accumulate these into a new complement of the same extent. To this new complement we give another name ; and then again proceed to perform, on this more complex unit, the same operation we had performed on the first ; and so we may go on rising from complement to complement to an indefinite ex- tent. Thus, a merchant, having received a large un- known sum of money in crowns, counts out the pieces by fives, and having done this till he has reached y ■ n i'Jf 138 AN OVTUXE OF twenty, he lays them together in a heap ; around these ho assembles simihir piles of coin, till they amount, let us say, to twenty ; and he then puts the whole four hundred into a bag. In this manner he proceeds, until he fills a number of bags, and i)lacing the whole in his coffers, he will have a complex or collective notion of the quantity of crowns which ho has received. It is on this principle that arithmetic proceeds ; tens, hundreds, thousands, myriads, hun- dreds of thousands, millions, etc., arc all so many factitious units, which enable us to form notions, vague indeed, of what otherwise ve could have obtained no conception at all. So much for complex or collective notions, formed without decomposition, — a process which I now go on to consider. (B) Abstraction. Our thought, that is, the sum total of the Perceptions and Representations which occupy us at any given moment, is always, as I have frequently observed, compound. The composite ob- jects of thoughts may be decomposed in two ways, and for the sake of two different interests. 1. In the first place, we may decompose in order that we may recombine, influenced by the mere pleas- ure which this plastic operation afibrds us. This is poetical analysis and synthesis. On this process it is needless to dwell. It is evidently the work of com- parison. For example, the minotaur, or chimtera, or centaur, or gryphon (hippogryph) , or any other poetical combination of diflcrent animals, could only have been efiected by an act in which the representa- tions of these animals were compared, and in which certain parts of one were affirmed compatible with sin WILLIAM nAMILT(>x\S I'lIILOSOPnY, 139 order )leas- his is s it is com- imrera, other d only 3senta- whicli ) with certain parts of another. How, again, is the imagina- tion of all ideal beauty or pcrfc'oti(>n formed? Siini)ly by comparing the various beauties or excellences of which we have had actual experience, and thus being enabled to pronounce in regard to their conmion and essential quality. 2. In the second place, wo may decompose in the interest of science ; and as the poetical composition was principally accomplished l)y a separation of in- tegral parts, so this is principally accomplished l)y an abstraction of eonstituciit qualities. On this process it is necessary to be more particular. •Suppose an unknown body is presented to ray senses, and that it is capable of affecting each of these in a certain manner. As furnished with tive dilferent oi-gans, each of which serves to introduce a certain class of perceptions and representations into the mind, we naturally distribute all sensn)le objects into five species of qualities. The abstraction of the senses is thus an operation the most natural ; it is even impos- sible for us not to perform it. Let us now see whether abstraction by the mind be more arduous than that of the senses. "We have formerly found that the comprehension of the mind is extremely limited : it can only take cog- nizance of one object at a time, if that l)e known with full intensity ; and it can accord a simultaneous at- tention to a very small plurality of objects, and even that imperfectly. Thus it is that attention fixed on one object is tantamount to a withdrawal, to an ab- straction, of consciousness from every other. The ab- straction of the intellect is thus as natural as that of 140 AN OVTLIXK OF the senses; it is even imposed l)y the very constitu- tion of our minds. But is Abstniction, or rather, is exelusive attentiou the work of Comparison? This is evident. Tlie ap- plication of attention to a particular ol)ject, or quality of an object, supposes a choice or i)referen(!C, and this again supposes Comparison and Judgment. Piut this may be made more manifest from a view of the act of generalization, on Avhich wc are about to en- ter. .(C) Generalization. The notion of the figure of the desk before me is an abstract idea, — an idea that makes i)art of the total notion of tluit body, and on which I have concentrated my attention, in order to consider it exclusively. This idea is abstract, but it is at the same time individual ; it represents the fig- ure of this particular desk, and not the figure (jf any other body. But had wc only individual abstract no- tions, what would I)e our knowledge? "Wc should be cognizant only of qualities viewed apart from their su])Jccts (and of separate phenomena there exists none in nature) ; and as these qualities arc also separate from each other, we should have no knowledge of their mutual relations. We should also be over- whelmed with their number. ' It is necessary, therefore, that we should form Ab- stract General notions. This is done when, comparing a number of objects, we seize on their resemblances ; when we concentrate our attention on these points of similarity, thus abstracting the mind from a consid- eration of their difierenccs ; and when we give a name to our notion of that circumstance in which they all Sfll n-lLUAM riA.VlLTO\\i). In this process of Generali- zation we do not stop short at a tirst (Jeneralization. By a first Generalization Ave have obtained a num- ber of classes of resembling individuals. But these classes we can compare together, observe their simi- larities, al)straet from their diilerenccs, and bestow on their onmion circumstance a conmion name. On tlies fjond classes we can again perform the same operaiion, and thus ascending the scale of general no- tions, throwing out of view always a greater number of diflerences, and seizing always on fewer similarities in the formation of our classes, we arrive at length at the limit of our ascent in the notion of beinr/ or e.i*- istence. Thus placed on the summit of the scale of classes, we descend l)y a process the reverse of that by which we have ascended ; we divide and subdivide the classes, by introducing always more and more characters, and laying always fewer ditrercnees aside ; the notions become more and more composite, until we at lencfth arrive at the individual. I may here notice that there is a twofold kind of quantity to be considered in notions. It is evident that in proportion as the class is high it will, in the first place, contain under it a greater number of classes, IT 142 AX OUTLINE OF and, in the second, will incluclc the smallest com- plement of attributes. Thus being or existence con- tains under it every class ; and yet, when we say that a thing cxis-ts, we say the very least of it that is pos- sible. On the other hand, an individual, though it contain nothing but itself, involves the largest amount of predication. For example, when I say. This is Richard, I not only affirm of the subject every class from existence down to man, but likewise a number of circumstances proper to Richnrd as an individual. Now, the former of these quantities, the external, is called the Extension of a notion ; the latter, the in- ternal cpiantity, is called its Coinj)re1iension or Inten- sion. They are in the inverse ratio of each other : the greater the Extension, the less the Comprehen- sion ; the greater the Comprehension, the less the Ex- tension. Having given you this necessary information in re- gard to the nature of Generalization, I pr )ceed to con- sider one (.f the most simple, and, at the same time, ■ one of the most perplexed, problems in philosophj', — in regard to the object of consciousness, when we em- ploy a general term. In the explanation of the pro- cess of Generalization, all philosophers are at one; the only diflerenccs that arise among them relate to the point, whether we can form an adequate idea of ^that which is denoted by an abstract, or abstract and general term. Throwing out of account the ancient doctrine of Idealism, which is curious onl}- in an historical point of view, there arc two opinions which stn; divide phi- losophers. Some maintain that ever^/ ad and evert/ wm sin WILLIAM n J MILTON* S rniLOSOPHY. 143 om- 3on- tliat pos- rh it LOimt lis is class imbcr ulual. iial, is he iii- Inten- otlicr : irchcu- lie Ex- i in ve- to eon- ,c time, )\)\\y, — we om- the pvo- lat (nic ; L-elate to lidea of •act and Itrine al po of iiit 'ide plii- [nd every ohject of mind is 7iecesfiaril>/ singular, and that the name is that aloie irhich can 2'>retend to (jeneralily. Otlici'H, again, hold that tlie mind is capat Ac of forming notions, represcnialions, corresjjondent in universality to the classes contained under, or expressed by, tha gen- eral term. Tlio fonner is Ihc doctrine of Kominalisni; tjie latter, the doctrine of Conceptual ism. Tin; Xoniinalists maintain that ever}' notion, con- sidered in itself, is singular, but becomes, as it were, general, through the intention of the mind to make it rcpi-escnt every resembling notion, or notion of the same class. Take, for exatnple, the term man. Here we can call np no notion, no idoa, corresponding to the universality of the class or term. This is mani- festly inip()ssii)le. For as man involves contradictory attributes, and as contradictions cannot coexist in one representation, an idea or notion adequate to man can- not be realized in thouuht. The class man includes individuals, male and female, Mhite jvnd black and coi)per-colored, tall and short, fat and thin, straight and crooked, whole and mutilated, etc., etc. ; and the noti(m of the class nuist, therefore, at once represent all and none of these. It is, therefore, evident, though the absurdity was maintained hy Locke, that we can- not accomplish this ; and, this being inipo-sihle, we cannot represent to ourselves the class man by any equivalent notion or idea. All that we can do is to call np some individual image, and consider it as rep- resenting, though inadequately rcpn senting, the gen- erality. This we easily do, for as we can call into imagination any individual, so we can make that indi- vidual image stand for any or for every other which Uf fC' 144 AN OUTLINE OF it resembles in those essential points which constitute the identity of the class. This opinion, which, after Hobhcs, has been maintained, among others, by Berkeley, Hume, Adam Smith, Campbell, and Stew- art, ni)pears to me not only true, but self-evident. A general notion is nothing but the a])stract notion of a circumstance in which a number of individual ob- jects are found to agree, that is, to resemble each other. Now, resemblance, being a relation, cannot be represented in Imagination.^ The two terms, the two relative objects, can be severally imaged in the sensible phantasy, but not the relation itself. This is the object of the Comparative Faculty, or of Intelli- gence Proper. To objects so different as the images of sense and the unpicturable notions of intelligence, different names ought to be given ; and, accordingly, this has been done wherever a philosophical nomen- clature of the slightest pretensions to perfection has been formed. In the German language, which is now the richest in metaphysical expressions of any living tongue, the two kinds of objects arc carefully distin- guished. In oiu" language, on the contrary, the terms idea, conception^ notion, are used .almost as convertible for either ; and the vagueness and confusion which is thus produced, even within the narrow sphere of spec- ulation to which the Avant of the distinction also con- fines us, can be best appreciated by those who are ' It must be observed thiit the term Imagination is here used for the representation of sensible objects alone. See above, p. 128. — J. C. M. sin WILLIAM nAMILTON*S pniLosomY. 145 tute iftcr , ^>y itew- otion il ob- each aiinot s, the in the rhis is LntelU- imagcs igeiicc, cVingly, iiomcu- lou has is now living distin- tcrms crtible hich is of spec- so con- who arc conversant with the philosophy of the different coun- tries.^ In connection with general terms, another curious question has likewise divided philosophers. It is this : i)oe.s Lanrjuage originate in General AjipeJlatives or h\j Proper JVames? Did mankind, in the formation of language, and do children, in their first application of it, commence with the one kind of words or w^ith tiie other? The determination of this question — the question of the Primum Cognitum, as it w\as called in the Schools — is not involved in the question of Nominalism. On this question two opposite theo- ries have been advanced. 1. Many illustrious philosophers have maintained that all tenns, as at first emjiiloyed, are expressive of individual objects^ and that these only subsequently ob- tain a general acceptation. This opinion I find main- tained l)y Vives, Locke, Rousseau, Condillac, Adam Smith, Steinbart, Tittel, Brown, and others. "Tliero is nothing," says Locke, "more evident than that the ideas of the persons children converse with (to in- stance in them alone) are like the persons themselves, only particular. The ideas of the nurse and the mother are well framed in their minds ; and, like pic- tures of them there, represent only those individuals. The names they first gave to them arc confined to these individuals ; and the names of nurse and mamma^ the child uses, determine themselves to those persons. U£ re used for p. 128.— ' In the Led. on Metaph. (Lcct. XXXV.) will be found an elabo- rate critique of tiic doctrine of Conccptualism, in the form in which it was maintained by Dr. Thomas Brown. — J. C. M. 10 t ,,S i n -^ 146 AN OVTLJKE OF K Afterwards, when time jiiid ;i larger acquaiutaucc have made them observe that there are n. great many other things in the world that in some common agreements of shape and several other qualities resemble their father and mother, and those persons they have been used to, they frame an idea which they find those many particulars do partake in ; and to that they give, with others, the name man, for example. And thus they come to have a general name and a general idea."' 2. On the other hand, an opposite doctrine is main- tained by many profound philosophers. " General terms," says Leibnitz, "serve not only for the perfec- tion of languages, but are even necessary for their es- sential constitution. For if by particulars be under- stood things individual, it would be impossible to speak, if there were only proper names, and no appel- latives, that is to say, if there Avere only names for things individual, since, at every moment, we are met by new ones, when ve treat of persons, of accidents, and especially of actions, which arc those that we de- scribe the most ; but if by particulars l)c meant the loAvcst species (species infimcc), besides that it is fre- quently very difficult to determine them, it is manifest that these arc already univeisals, founded on similaritv. Now, as the only dilference of species and (jenem lies m a similarity of greater or less extent, it is natural to notc^ every kind of similarity or agreement, and conse(iuently to employ general terms of every de- gree ; nay, the most general being less complex with ' Locke's Essay on the Unman Understanding, III., 3, 7. sin WILLIAM HAMILTON^ S PniLOSOPnw 147 regard to the essences which they comprehend, al- thongh more extensive in relation to the things indi- vidual to which they apply, arc frequently the easiest to form, and are the most useful. It is likewise seen that children, and those who know but little of the language which they attempt to speak, or little of the subject on which they would c!nploy it, make use of general terms, as thing, ^;Zci»<, animal, instead of us- ing proper names, of which they are destitute. And it is certain that all proper or individual names have been originally appellative or general."^ 3. But I have now to state a third opinion, inter- mediate between these, which conciliates both, and seems, moreover, to carry a superior probability in its statement. This opinion maintains, that, as our knowledge proceeds from the confused to the distinct, so, in the mouths of children, language at first ex- presses neither the precisely general nor the determi- natcly particular, hut the vague and confused; aud that, out of this, the universal is elaborated by gen- erification, the particular and singular by specifica- tion and individualization. * Though our capacity of attention be very limited in regard to the number of objects on which u faculty can be simultaneously directed, yet these objects may 1)0 large or small. We may make, for example, a single object of attention cither of a whole man, or of his face, or of his eye, or of the pupil of his eye, or of a speck upon the pupil. To each of these objects there can only be a certain amount of attentive per- A '. ! ' Nouveaux Essais, Lib. III., cnp. 1. If -^ M8 AN OUTLIXE OF ccptioii applied, and wc can concentrate it all on any one. In proportion as the object is larger and more complex, our attention can of course be less applied to any part of it, and, consequently, our knowledge of it in detail will be vaguer and more imperfect. But having first acquired a compreliensive knowledge of it as a whole, we can descend to its several parts, con- sider these both in themselves, and in relation to each other, and to the whole of which they arc constituents, and thus attain to a complete and articulate knov.ledge of the object. Wc decompose, and then avc reconi- pose. But in this wc always proceed first by decomposi- tion or analysis. All analysis indeed supposes a fore- gone composition or synthesis, because wo cannot decompose what is not already composite. But in our acquisition of knowledge, the objects are pre- sented to us compounded ; and they obtain a unity only in the unity of our consciousness. The unity of con- sciousness is, as it were, the frame in which objects are seen. I say, then, that the first procedure of mind in the elaboration of its knowledge is always analytical. It descends from the whole to the parts, — from the vague to the definite. Definitude, that is, a knowledge of minute dilferences, is not, as the op- posite theor}' supposes, the first, but the last, term of our cognitions. Between two sheep an ordinary spec- tator can pro])ably apprehend no ditference, and if they Avcre twice presented to him, he would be unable to discriminate the one from the other. But a shep- herd can distinguish every individual sheep ; and why? Because he has descended from the vague SIR WILLIAM Hamilton's riiiLosornr.' 149 only cou- )jCCt3 •c of Iwtiys parts, uitis, \c op- ivm of spec- [incl if unal)l(! . shep ■ ; and vague knowledge Mhich we all have of sheep, — from the vague knowledge which makes every sheep, as it were, only a repetition of the same undilferenced unit, — to a deiinito knowledge of qualities by which each is con- trasted from its neighbor. Now, in this example, mo apprehend the sheep by marks not less individual than those by which the shepherd discriminates them ; but the whole of each sheep being made an object, the marks by which we know it arc the same in each and all, and cannot, therefore, afford the principle by which we cau discriminate them from each other. Now this is what appears to me to take place with children. They lirst know tlie things and persons presented to them as wholes. But wholes of the same kind, if we do not descend to their parts, aflbrd us no mark by which we can discriminate the one from the other. Children, thus, originally perceiving similar objects — persons, for example — only as wholes, do at first hardly distinguish them. They apprehend first the more ol)triisive marks that separate species from species, and, in consequence of the notorious con- trast of dress, men from women ; but they do not as yet recognize the finer traits that discriminate indi- vidual from individual. But, though thus apprehend- ing individuals only by what wc now call their specific or their generic qualities, it is not to be supposed that children know them by any abstract general attributes ; that is, by attriljutes formed by com- parison and attention. On the other hand, because their knowledge is not general, it is not to be sup- posed to be ptirticular or individual, if by particular be meant a separation of species from species, and by ' It I i p? -■«■ I'W' 150 AX^ OUTLINE OF individiuil, the separation of indivitliial from iiitll- vitliial ; for children arc at first apt to confound in- dividuiils together, not only in name, but in reality. What I have now said is, I think, sufficient in regard to the nature of Generalization. It is notoriously a mere act of Comparison. Wc compare objects ; we find them similar in certain respects, that is, in certain respects they affect us in the same manner ; we con- sider the qualities in them, that thus affect us in the same manner, as the same ; and to this conmion qual- ity wc give a name ; and as we can predicate this name of all and each of the resembling objects, it con- stitutes them into a class. Aristotle has truly said that general names are only abbreviated definitions, and definitions, 3'ou know, are judgments. For ex- ample, animal is only a compendious expression for organized and animated body ; man, only a sunnnary of rational animal, etc. § 3. JUDGMENT. In the processes of judgment and reasoning, the act of Corapariwon is a judgment of something more than a more affirmation of the oxistonco of a iihcnomenon, — something more than a mere discrimination of one phenomenon from another ; and, accordingly, Avhile it has happened that the intervention of judgment in every, even the simplest, act of primary cognition, as monotonous and rapid, has l)ecn overlooked, the name has been exclusively limited to the more varied and elaborate comparison of one notion with another, and the enouncement of their agreement or disagreement. sin WILLIAM HAMILTON'S miLOSOPnY. 151 idl- iii- y- Tavd iiere find vtiiin cou- 11 the qual- c this it con- y said it ions, or ex- ion for inuiiury he act re than mcnon, of one while uent in tion, as c name cd and icr, and ement. It is in the discharge of this, its more ohtrusive func- tion, that wo arc now about to consider the Elabora- tive Faculty. I have already noticed that our knowledge docs not commence with the individual and the most particular objects of knowledge, — that we do not rise in any regular progress from the less to the more general, first considering the qualities which characterize indi- viduals, then those which belong to species and gen- era, in regular ascent. On the contrary, our knowl- edge commences with the vague and confused. Out of this the general and the individual are both equally evolved. In consequence of this genealogy of our knowledge we usually commence by bestowing a name upon a whole object or congeries of objects, of Mhich, hoAvever, we possess only a partial and indefinite con- ception. In the sequel, this vague notion becomes somewhat mere determinate ; the partial idea which we had becomes enlarged by new accessions ; b}' de- grees our conception waxes fuller, and represents a greater number of attributes. With this conception, thus amplified and improved, we compare the last no- tion which has been acquired ; that is to say, we com- pare a part with its whole, or with the other parts of this whole, and, finding that it is harmonious, — that it dovetails and naturally assorts with other parts, — we acquiesce in this union ; and this we denominate an act of judgment. I have the conception of a triangle, and this concep- tion is composed in my mind of several others. Among these partial notions, I select that of two sides greater than the third, and this notion, which I had at ■\% If ! '^1 152 AS OUTLINE OF first, as it were, taken apart, I rcuuito with the others from which it had been separated, saying the triangle contains always two sides, which together are greater than the third. Every time we judge, wo compare a total concep- tion with a partial, and wo recognize that the latter really constitntes a part of the former. One of these conceptions has received the name of subject; the other, that of attribute or jjredicafe. The verb which connects these two parts is called the copula. The quadrangle is a double trianrjle; nine is an odd num- her; body is divisible. Here quadrangle, nine, body, are subjects ; a double triangle, an odd number, divis- ible, are predicates. The whole mental judgment, formed by the subject, predicate, and copula, is called, when enounced in wovds, proj^osition. In discourse, the parts of a proposition are not al- ways found placed in logical order ; but to discover and discriminate them, it is only requisite to ask, What is the thing of ivhich something else is affirmed or denied? The answer to this question will point out the subject; and we shall find the predicate if we inquire, What is affirmed or denied of the matter of which we speah? In fine, when we judge, we must have, in the first place, at least two notions ; in the second place, wo compare these; in the third, we recognize that one contains or excludes the other; and, in tho fourth, we acquiesce in this recognition. SlJi WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PniLOSOmY. 153 1CV9 utcr ccp- iittcr :hcse the vhich The nwn- bodi/i d'lvis- ^nicnt, called, not al- iscover ask, [firmed point if Ave liter of he first iicc, we At cue Irth, we § 4. REASONINO. Simple Comparison or Judgment is conversant with two notions, the one of which is contained in the other. But it often liappens that one notion is con- tained in another not inunediately, but mediately, and we may be able to recognize the relation of these to each other only throngh a third, which, as it imme- diately contains the one, is immediately contained in the other. Take the notions A, B, C, — A contains B; B contains C ; A therefore also contains C. But as, ex hypothed, we do not at once and directly know C as contained in A, we cannot immediately compare them together and judge of their relation. We there- fore perform a double or complex process of compari- son ; we compare B with A, and C with B, and then C with A through B. "We say, B is a part of A ; C is a part of B ; therefore C is a part of A. This double act of comparison has obtained the name of Reasoning; the term Judgment being left to express the simple act of comparison, or rather its result. Rea.-oning is either from the whole to its parts ; or from all the parts, discretively, tf) the Avhole they con- stitute, collectively. The former of these is Deduc- tive, the latter is Inductive, Reasoning. The state- ment you will find, in all logical l>ooks, of reasonings from certain parts to the whole, or from certain parts to certain parts, is erroneous. I shall first speak of the reasoning from the whole to its parts, — or of I. Deductive lleasoning. It is self-evident, that whafever is the part of a ])art is a jxirt of the ichde. % «ai 154 Ay OUTLINE OF 1 This one axiom is tlic foundation of all reasoning from the whole to the parts. There are, however, tAVo kindd of whole and parts ; and these constitute two varieties, or rather two phases, of deductive reasoiiiii;^. This distinction, which is of the most important kind, has nevertheless been wholly overlooked by philosophers, in consecpieucc of which the utmost perplexity and confusion have been introduced into the science. I have formerly stated that a proposition consists of two terms, — the subject and the predicate. Now, in difTercnt relations wc may regard the su])ject as the whole and the predicate as its part, or the predicate as the whole and the subject as its part. Let us take the proposition, milh is white. Now, here we may either consider the predicate icliite as cue of a number of attributes, the whole complement of which constitutes the subject milk. In this point of view, the predicate is a part of the sul)ject. Or, again, Ave may consider the predicate ichite as the name of a clas?^ of objects, of which the subject is one. In this point of view, the subject is a ptirt of the predicate. You will remember the distinction, Avliich I for- merly' stated, of the twofold quantity of notions orterms. The Extension of a notion or term corresponds to the greater number of subjects contained under a predi- cate ; the Intension, or Comprehension, of a notion or term, to the greater nimiber of predicates contained in a su])ject. These quantities or wholes are always in the inverse ratio of each other. Now, it is sinirii- lar that logicians should have taken this distinction between notions, and yet not have thought of applying Or, the ect is of the I for- tcrms. to t\ie procli- tion or nttiiuecl uhviiys singu- ig srn WILLIAM riAMiLTos s p/ifLosopnr. ir)5 it to roftsoninj]^. Ihit so it is ; and tliis is not tlic only ovcrsiiriit they have coinmittt'd in tlic application of the very primary principles of their science. The great distinction avc have estahlished hctween the siihject and })redicate considered severally, as, in diU'erent re- lations, whole and as part, constitntes the primary and principal division of Syllogisms, hoth Dednctivo and Indnctive; and its introdnction wipes olf a complex mass of rules and (lualilications, which the want of it rendered necessary. I can, of course, at present, only exi)lain in general the nature of this distinction ; its details helong to the science of the Laws of Thought, or Logic, of which we are not here to treat. 1. De(hidivc lieasoning in Comprehension. I shall first consider the process of that Deductive Inference m which the subject is viewed as the whole, the pred- icate as the part. In this reasoning, the whole is deter- mined by the Comprehension, and is, again, cither a Physical or Essential whole, or an Integral or Mathe- matical whole, (rt) A Physical or Essential whole is that which consists of not really separable parts, of or pertaining to its substance. Thus, man is made up of two substantial parts, — a mind and a body; and each of these has again various qualities, which, though sepa. ' >' oi5ly by mental abstraction, are considered as so many parts of an essential whole. Thus the at- tributes f respiration, of digestion, of locomotion, of color, are so many parts of the whole notion we have 'f the human body' ; cognition, feeling, desire, virtue, vice, etc., so man" parts of the whole notion we have of the human mind ; and all these together, so many i I' . 156 AN OUTLISE OF parts of the whole notion avc have of man. {h) A Matlioniatical or Integral or Quantitative whole is that which has part out of part, and which therefore can be really partitioned. The Integral, or, as it ought to be called, Integrate Avhole (totuminleijrutuin) ia composed of integrant parts (partes intcfjranles)^ which are either honi()phalus is a qna whole or part, changes from i)redicate to sub- ject ; hility of this inference, and It is only probable, is founded on the observation of tlu^ analogy of nature, and, therefore, iKtt ui)on the laws of thought by which alone reasoning, considiM'ed as a logical jjrocess, is exclusivel}' govci'iied. To be- come a formally legitimate induction, the objective probability must be clothed with a sulyective ncccs- n • 'a 41; m i 160 ^.V OUTLINE OF sity, and the .some must be tnmslatcd into the a??Avliich it is supposed to represent. In the deductive syllogism we proceed by analysis, that is, by decomposing a whole into its parts ; but as the two wholes Avith which reasoning is conversant are in the inverse ratio of each other, so our analysis in the one will correspond to our synthesis in the other. For example, when I divide a whole of exten- sion into its parts, — when I divide a genus into the species, a species into the individuals it contains, — I do so by adding ricw difVerences, and thus go on ac- cunudating in the parts a complement of qualities which did not belong to the wholes. This, therefore, Avhich, in point of extension, is an analysis, is, in point of comprehension, a synthesis. In like manner, Avhen I decompose \\ whole of comprehension, that is, decompose a complex predicate into its constit- uent attributes, I ol)tain by this process a simpler and more general quality, and thus this, which, in re- lation to a conqirchensive whole, is an analysis, is, in relation to an extensive whole, a S3'nthesis. As the deductive inference is Analytic, the inductive is Syn- thetic. But as induction, equally as deduction, is conv(U'sant with both wholes, so the svnthesis of in- duction on the comprehensive whole is a reversed process to its synthesis on the extensive whole. You will therefore be aware, that the terms anahjsifi and fti/nt/iesifi, when used without qualilication, may be employed at cross purposes, to denote operations precis(dy the converse of {>ach other. And so it has hap[)ened. Analysis, in the mouth of one set of phi- losophers, means precisely what synthesis denotes in sin WILLIAM HAMILTON s pniLOsopnr. IGl ihj Si.S 1, "^'0' [rut ions it luis )f plii- hotcs in tlic mouth of another ; nay, what is even still more frequent, those words arc perpetually converted with each other by the same philosopher. I may notice, what has rarely, if ever, been remarked, that synthe- sis, in the writings of the Greek logicians, is ecpiivalcnt to the analysis of modern philosophers ; the former, regarding the extensive whole as the principal, applied analysis, xar ^^'/v--, to its division ; the latter, viewing the comprehensive whole as the principal, in general Innit analysis to its decomposition. This, however, has been overlooked, and a confusion the most inex- tricable prevails in regard to the use of these words, if the thread of the labyrinth is not obtained. {Led. on Metaph., XXXIV.-XXXVII.) i nstit- nplcr in re- is. ni s the Syn- m, is f in- cd o crs It li PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE COGNITIONS. CHAPTER VI. THE REGULATIVE FACULTY. l?y ill: I NOW enter upon the last of the Cognitive Faculties, — the faculty which I denominated the Regulative. Here the term faculty, you will ol)serve, is employed in a somewhat peculiar signification, for it is employed not to denote the proximate cause of any definite en- ergy, but the power the mind has of being the native source of certain necessary or a priori cognitions ; which cognitions, as they are the conditions, the forms, under which our knowledge in general is possible, constitute so manv fundamental laws of intellectual nature. It is in this sense that I call the power which the mind possesses of modifying the knowledge it re- ceives, in conformity to its proper nature, its Regula- tive Faculty. The Regulative Faculty is, however, in fact, nothing more thsm the complement of such laws ; it is the locus prlncipiorum. It thus corre- sponds to Avhat was known in the Greek philosophy under the name of k;Dt, when that term was rigor- ously used. To this faculty has been bitterly applied 162 AN OUTLINE OF nAMIL'rON*S rniLOSOPHY. 163 ilties, ative. )loyed ployed to cn- ative ions ; 'onus, cctual Avliich it rc- logula- wover, )f svich corro- osophy rigor- appUed the ii.am ) Hcason ; but this term is so vague and am- biguous, that it is almost unfitted to convey any defi- nite meaning. Tlie term Common Sense has likewise been applied to designate the place of principles. This word is also aiiil)iguous. In the Jh'st place, it was the expression used in the Aristotelic philosophy to denote the Central or Common Sensory ^ in which the differ- ent external senses met and were united. In the sec- ond place, it was miployed to signify a sound under- standing aj)2)lied to vuhjar objects, in contrast to a scientijic or sj)ecnlative intelligence ; and it is in this signification that it has been taken by those who have derided the principle on which the philosophy, Avhich has been distinctively denominated the Scottish, pro- fessesto be established. This is not, however, the mean- ing which has always, or even principally, been at- tached to it ; and an incomparably stronger case might be made out in defence of this expression than has been done by lleid, or even by Mr. Stewart. It is, in fact, a term of high anti(piity and very general accep- tation. Were it allowed in metaphysical philosoph}', as in physical, to discriminate scientific dificreuceg by scientific terms, I would employ the word noetic, as derived from w-r^r, to ex[)rcss all those cognitions that originate in the mind itself; dianoetic to denote the operations of the Discursive, Elaborative, or Com- parative Faculty.^ (Led. on Metaph., XXXVIII.) ' For an nccoiint of tlip various names hy whicli tlie principles of Common Sense have boon designated, see Iteid's Works, Note A. Tills note is an elaborate dissertation on tlio Philosophy vf Common Sense, and deserves study in this connection. — J. C. M. .ii! ■ft Hi it n 164 ^lA' OVTLISE OF h The essential notes or characters, by which we are enabled to dlstinu^uish our original from our derivative cognitions, may ))u reduced to tour : — 1. Their Incoinjirehen.siblUf//. When wc are able to comprehend how or why a thing is, the belief of the existence of that thing is not a primary datum of consciousness, but a subsum[)tion under the cognition or belief which affords its reason. 2. Their Simi)l!cl(i/. If a cognition or belief bo made up of, and can be explicated into, a plurality of cognitions or Ijeliefs, it is manifest that, as compound, it cannot be original. 3. Their 2^eceHsity and AhKohite Universality/. These may be regarded as coincident. For when a belief is necessaiy, it is, eo ij)so, universal ; and that a belief is universal is a certain index that it must be necessary. To prove the necessity, the universality must, however, be absolute ; for a relative nniver- sality indicates no more than custom and eductition, howbeit the subjects themselves may deem that they follow the dictates of nature. 4. Their Comparative EviiJence and Certainty. This, along with the third, is well stated by Aristotle : "What appearx to all, that we atlirm ^o />e,' and he who rejects this belief will assuredl}' advance nothing better dcservimj of credence." {Reid's WorJcs, pp. 754-r).) Thouijh it be now ijenerallv aeknowlediifed, bv the profoiuulest thinkers, that it is impossible to analyze all our knowledge into the produce of experience, ex- ternal or internal, and that a certain complement of cognitions nuist l)e allowed as having their oriuin in srn wlLUA^f Hamilton's rniLosopnr. 165 ve \'e l>lo of .of Llou [ bo y of uiul, dihj' ion a . tliat ist be rirtlity hiivcr- :itu)u» they \ain(y. .lotle : iiu\ be pp. iby the linulyze Ice, ex- tent of l-iiiiu in the iititurc of the thiiikini^ principle itself; they are not at one in regtird to those which ought to be rec- ognized as ultimate anil elemental, and those which ouffht to bo regarded as modifications or combinations of these. The reduction of our native cognitions to system is therefore a pro]>lem which still remains to be solved. These cognitions are founded on the nec- essary conditions of thought ; and we have now to sec tliat philosophers have failed to enumerate all those conditions. {Lect. on Metaph.^ XXXVIII.) Now, the conditions of all positive thought arc two : (1.) yon-contmdidion ; (2.) lielativifi/. If either of these conditions be violated, thought (employing that term as comprehending all our cognitive energies) is not posit! >:e, — it is only najdllvc; for thought is positive only when existence, objective or subjective, is predi- cated of an object. If the condition of Xon-contra- diction be not fullilled, there emerges The rcaUy im- posf^ibJc, — Xihil purum; if that of IJelativit}' be not puritied, there results TJie Lnjjossihh to Thoiu/ht, — Nihil cofjifabiie. It might be supposed that negative thinking, being a negation of thought, is in [)ropriety a negation therefore, absolutdy, of all mental activity. But this would be erroneous. In fact, as Aristotle observes, every negation involves an affirmation, and wo cannot think or predicate non-existence except by reference to existence. Thus even negative thought is realized only under the condition of Kelativity and positive thinking. For example, we try to think, — to predicate existence in some way, — but tind ourselves unable. Wo then predicate incvjitabiliti/ ; and if we 1 I i "^vr Vi 166 Ay OVTLISE OF do not uhvjiys prodiciitc, as un equivalent, (objective) non-existence, we shall never err. It is only, then, when both of these conditions aro fuUillcd, that we think — Something. § 1. THE COXDTTIOX OF NOX-COSTRADICTIOX. This condition is insiipcnible. We think it not only as a law of thought, but as a law of things ; and while we suppose its violation to determine an abso- lute impossibility, Ave suppose its fultilment to afford only the Xot-unj)ossible. Thought is, under this con- dition, merely exjilicative or analytic; and tiie condi- tion itself is l)rought to bear under three phases, constituting three laws: (1.) the law of Identity; (2.) the law of Contradiction (more properly Non- contradiction) ; (3.) the law of Excluded Middle (between two contradictories).^ The science of these is Logic; and as the laws arc only explicative. Logic is onlyj^or>/^«?. Thouij:h necessary to state the condition of Non-con- tradiction, there is no dispute jibout its effect, no dan- ger of its violation. When, therefore, I speak of the Conditioned^ the term is used in special reference to Kelativity. By existence Conditioned is meant em- phatically existence relative, — existence thought under relation. Relation may thus be understood to contain all the categories and forms of positive thought. (^Discussions, pp. 602-3.) ' For a full discussion of these laws see Led. on Log., V. and VI. and Appendix IV. — J. C. M. sin WILLIAM RAMILTOS S PniLOSOPnY. 167 § 2. THK rnyrniTios' of itKLATiriTV. I By this comlilion it is implit'd that the mind can coiH'oivo, and can conscqnontly know, on!// the Vuiukd, and fhc co^tditionalli/ Juinfcil. Tlio unconditionally un- limited, oi' the Infinite, the unconditionally limited, or XhaAhsohite, caimot positively ho construedtotho mind ; they can ho conceived only hy a thinking away from, or abstraction of, those very conditions under which thought itself is realized : conscHjuently the notion of the Unconditioned is only negative, — negative of the c warned from rccoirni/inii- the domain of our knowledge as neeessa- rily coextensive with the horizon of our faith. And, by a wonderful I'evelation, avc are thus, in the very consciousness of our inability to conceive aught above tiie relative and Ihiite, inspired with a belief in the existence of something unconditioned beyond the sphere of all reprehensible reality. (Discns.sions, pp. i;3-l'..) The condition of Relativity is therefore not insuper- sin n'lLLiAM ii.i.wiLTox's p/iiLosornr. 1G9 pcr- iible. Wc shouM lliiiik it not as sv law of tilings, but nioivly as u law of tliouglit. Thinking, under this condition, is ainjiliafii'c or s>/n(/t('t/c. Its- science, 3It'f('j)/f>/.sic, using that term in a coniprehensivo niean- ing, is tlierefore mad'n'al, in the sense of non-formal. The relations under which this condition is brought to bear are either ncccs.vtri/ and ori'jtnal, or confin- (/rnf and dcrirafirc. The latter are such as One and Other, Knd and ^lean, AVhole and Part, etc., etc. Kelations like these, which wc fre(iuently employ in the actual applications of our cognitive energies, ad- mit of classilication from diflerent points of view ; but to attempt their arrangement at all, far less on any exclusive principle, would horc bo manifestly out of place. In so far, then, as it is necessary, the condi- tion of Ivclativity is brought to bear under two prin- cipal relations ; the one springing from the suhjrrt of knowledge {tlie relation of Knoirlc'l'jc), the other from the ohject of knowledge (the I'elalions of Existence). (A) The Kklation of Kxowledok is that which aris(>s from the recii)rocal dependence of the sul)ject and o])jeet of thought. "Whatever comes into con- sciousness is thouirht by us either as heloniriuL'" to the mental self exclusively (suf/Jecfivo-suJjJccfirc), or as l)elonging to the not-self exclusively {ohjedivo-ohjcc- tirr), or as belonging partly to both {subjcdivo-ohjec- tive). (1>) The Relations of Existence are either in- (riiisic or extrinsic. I. The intrinsic, which may also be called the qnal- ilative, relation is that of Substance and Quality (qutdity being variously styled forni^ accident, prop- 170 AN OUTLIXE OF erf}/, mode, affection, jihenomenon, appearance, attri- bute, predicate, denomination, etc.). Substance and Quality arc manifestly oniy thonght as mutual rela- tives. 1. AVc cannot think a qualiti/ exiHinfj ahfiohitchj, in or of itself; we are constrained to think it as inhering in some basis, substratum, hypostasis, subject, or sub- stance. 2. But this substance cannot be conceived by us, except negatively, that is, as the miapparent, — the inconceivable correlativ»^ of certain appearing (juali- ties. If Ave attempt to think it positively, wo can think it only by transforming it into a quality or bun- dle of (jualities, which, again, wo arc compi'lh'(l to re- fer to an unknown substance, now necessarily sup[)osed for their incogitable basis. Everything in fact may bo conceived as the quality or as the substance of something else. lUit absolute substance and absolute quality, — these are both in- conce'.vable, as more than ncrations of the conceiv- able. II. Tiie extrinsic relation of existence may be calliHl quaHfitatire, and is threefold, as constituted by three species of (piautify, — Time, Space, and Dojree, i. Time, Protension, or Vrotensivc (pKtntiti/, called likewise Duration, is a necessary conditionof liiought. It may be consitlered both (I.) in itself, and (2.) iu the things which it contains. ' 1 . hi itself, _ (rt) Time is positireJi/ inconccivahle , firsthf, either, (it) on th(> one hand, as absolute, that is, absolutely coinmenciiig or absolutely terminating, oi- (,i) on tho Slii WILLIAM flAMILTOy S rillLOSOI'IIY. 171 uaVity ollltO U in- nct'iv- Ihroc > (-'.) ill filhcr, solutely other liMiul, as hifinite or eternal, Avhetlier ab ante or a post ; it is no less ineonceivahle, secondly, if we at- tempt ('/) to fix an ahsoJute niininuini or (,5) to fol- low (Hit an injiaitc division, {h) Time is positively conceivable, if coneeiveil, Jlrs'ly, as an indclinite past, present, or fntnre, or, sec- ondly, as an indeterminate iiiean between the two nnthinkahh extremes of an ahsolnte least and an infi- nite divisi'>:liiy ; for thus it is relative. 2. T/iin'/s i)i Time are either, JirMly, coinchisive, when, {it) if of the same time they are, pro tanto, i) if of different times (as causes antl etl'eet, causosterior or conlcniporancous, Tlu» impossi- hilify of thinking as non-existent in time (either past or futuri') aught whieh we have conceived as existent, affords the principle il)le. (//) Space is positively* coaceicuble as a mean be- ' Sco tills itriiiiipK' divtlDpid in tin. ApiRiidix to this Cimpter. — J. V. M. I Ii i I 172 AS Ol'TLIXE OF 'H twcoii these nxtronios, tlmt is, either as an iiKlefmitc Avhole or as an iiidelinite part ; fc thus it is rela- tive. 2. The fJii))(fs in Space may he {-onsiderecl, firstly, in relation to Space itvself, when the extension oceu- piecl hy a thin<^ is eaUed its jtlacc, and ji thini; ehaii"^- , ing its phiee gives the relation of motion. Considered, secoiitUt/, in rehition to eaeh other, they are either (a) incliisire, thus originating tiie itlation of a jtainiii'j and contained, or (h) co('.fc7<<.s/rt', thus (K'lerniining the I'elation of position or situation, — of here and there { I'hication). On Space, are dei)en(k'nt what arc called the J*ri)i)ari/ (Qualities of hody, strii-tly so de- nominated, and Space combined with Degrei' allords, of hody, the Secundo-priiiKU-)/ (Qualities. Our inahil- ity to conceive an ahsohite elimination fioni s[)ac3 of aught whicii we have toneeived to occujw space, gives the law of whal I hav(? called Ultimate Incom- pressihilit//, etc.' iii. Detjree, Intension, or Intensive qiunditi/ is not, like Time and S|»ace, an absolute condition of thought. It may therefon* h(! thought as null, or as existing only potentially. But thinking il to he, we nuist think it as a (juantily ; ul, as a i(uan(ity, it is posi- tivel}- both inconceivable and conceivable. 1. In itself, — {a) Degree is posit! veh/ inronceivaOlc, (") (d)sc.' lutc'l'/. either as least (U- as greatest, (,i) infnilcfi/, either in increase or iliuiinfltion ; but (6) It is positively conceivable, in so far as it is ' Soo above, Chap. I., § 1. (B). — J. C. M. SIJ^ WILLIAM nA.VILTOy S PHILO- >P11Y. 173 conceived as relative, — as indefinitely high or liiglicr, as indefinitely low or lower. 2. The thi/tr/a Uionrjlit nndcr De'jrce, ((f) if of the same intension, arc correlatively niiiforni; (b) if of a different degree, are correlatively higher or lower. Degree is develo|)ed int(» the Secondary (^naiities of body, and, combined with Si)ace, into the Seentuh- jjriiiiary {lJiscHs,sionf<, })}). 002— S. (\)nipare Lcct. OH J/, fdjjh., XXXVIII.) (On the next page is given a tabniar view tif the above conditions of thonght.) APPENDIX TO CIIAPTEll VI. LAW OF Tin: CONDITIOXFn I\ ITS AIM'LICATION TO Tin: riaNcirLK of ( aisality. To manifest the utility of introducing the princi[)lc of the Conditioned into our metaphysical spec-dations, I shall (always in outline) give one only, but that a signal illustration of its imi)ortanco. Of all (juestions in the history of philosoi)hy, that concerninu: the origin of our iudiriiient of (^lusc ami Ejfcd is perhaps the most celebrated ; but, strange to say, there is not, so far as I am aware, to b(> found a comprehensive view of the various theorii's proposed in ex})lana1ion, — not to say, among these, any satis- facto-y explanation of the phenonnMion itself. The phenomenon is this: When aware of a new appearance, we are unable to conceive that therein ' Seo tlio prccciUtig note. — J. C. >f . "ffl m AN OVTLISE OF I m St 8 N a m (• b) 3 ^ w" i I ( ■ ii IK !^T' I Sin n'lLLlAM HAMILTOS'S VniLOSOP/lY. 175 has origiiiiitcd any now cxistonco, and an; thereforo contifia/ned to think tliat what now appears to ns under a new Ibnn, had previously an e\if*tcnec under others — others conceivitble l)y us or not. The^e other.-, (for they arc al\»ay.s phnal) are ealUd its cause; and a eause, or more properly causes, we cannot hut suppose ; for a cause ii>j simply everything witho\it wliicli Iho cilect would not result, and all such concurrinir, the eilcct cainiot hut result. AVe are utterly luiahle to realize in thought the possibility of the coniplcineut of existence ))einer either increased or diminished. A\'o are unable, on the one hand, to conceive nothing becoming sonieth'ng, or, on the other, something be- coming nothing. When God is said to create out of nothing, we construe this to thought by sup[)osing that ho evolves existence out of nothing l)ut himself; and in like manner we conceive annihilation only by conceiving the Creator to withdraw his creation, by withdrawinj; his creative enerixv from actuality into 1)0 wer. " Nil 1)0'=."' crcari Dc Niliilo. notjuc (piod ),"'>'>'> '■''t "<' ^'1 ri'vocari; " " (lijjni Do Niliilu Niliil. in Niliiliiin Nil jiosm' rLvcrtl." ■n i i! :iil !'■ ) : Mi' These lines of Lucretius and INrsius enoni'.re a phys- ical axiom of anti([uity. whii h, wlu-n interpreted by the tloctrine of the Conditioned, i-, itself at once re- calUid into harmony with revcjdecl truth, and, express- ing in its [)urest foiin the conditions of lumian thought, exi)resses also implicitly the whole intclkctual phe- nomenon of causality. There is thus conceived au absolute taut' _ • faiN> if 176 Ay OVTLISE OF twcen tlio cn'cet nnd its causes. Wo think the eaiises to contain all that is conlainctl in the eirect ; the ef- fect to contain nothinir which was not contained in the causes. Take an example. A neutral salt is an eflcct of the conjunction of an acid and an alkali. Hero we do not, and here we cainiot, eonc(!ive that, in ef- fect, any new existences has been added, nor can we conceive that any has been taken away. Rut another example : Gunpowder is the elTect of a mixture of sulphur, charcoal, and nitn^ ; and these three sub- stances jire again the ellect of simpler constiluents, and these constituents again of sim[)U!r elements, either known or conceived to exist. Now, in all this series of compositions, we cannot conceive that aught begins to exist. The gnni)owder, the last compound, we avo compelled to think, contains precisely the same quan- tum of existence that its ultimate elements contained prior to their combination. Well ; we exj)lode the powder. Can we conceive that existence has been diminished by the annihilation of a sinirle element previously in IxMiig, or increasinl ))y the addition of a single element whicli was not heretcjfore in nature? ''Onmia mutantm-; nihil interit,"'is what we think, Avhat we must think. This, then, is the mental phe- nomenon of causality, -~ that we necessarilv deny in iltampflil that the object, which ap[)ears to begin to be, really so ]>egins ; and that we necessarily iml)ination'-. this eyistence was previously realized ; in other w<»i*ds, it is not reijui^ite that we should know v/iiat are the pariieular causes of the par- n Sn: WILLIAM ItAMILTUS'S rJlILOSOP/lY. 177 auses ic ef- in the IB nil Hero in of- an wo nolhcr lie of e sub- llUMllS, , oitUer , series l)Cgins we :'»"C (' (JIKIU- [iitaiiie*! ()(U' the l)ceu Icment )n of a KitviroV • think, li \>he- th'iiy in ii\ to 1h', Mitil'y its »t ro(ini- 1, ni\i al judirmeiit, as necessary, is ifiven in what they call "the principle of Causalifi/,^^ that is, the principle which declares tiad evcnjthinij which linjins to he must hare its cause (a.) ; ^vhile at least one philosopher, without exnlicillv denvinir that tin; causal iu.). Those who hold that it can he analyzed into a hiirher principle, also hold that it is not of a positive, l»nt of a ne;^ative, character. The»e, however, art^ divided into two classes. l\v some it has heen maintained, that (he principle of Causal it// can he rcsolrcd i)do the principh if Contradirtion (".), which, as I formcM'ly stated, oMirht in pr(^priety to he called the i)rinci[)le of \on-('ontradi(.'tion. On th(» other hand, it may ho (though it never has been) argued, that the judijment SIR niLLIAM HAMILTOS S I'mLOHOI'llY. 179 of Causdh'f)/ can be analf/::e(l info vliat T vnllptl the priurqth- of the Conditioned, — the principle of relafiv- itif {><.). To one or tlic other of thoso right lioiuls nil the iloctrines tliat h.'ive 1)cen actually maintained in rcLLard to the origin of the |)rin(ii)le in qncstion, may he rejerred ; and the elassilicalion i'* ighl doc- trines in general, without descending to the particular niodilications under which thev have been maintained hy particular philosophers. (A) TllI-OKII-.S WiriCII DKRIVE THE CaUSAL JuDG- SIKXT TMOM IvM'KUIKNCi:. Of tliesc, 1. The lirst two, — (1) that which asserts tJint we hove a pcra'plion ofcatisal Of/encj/ as ve h">-c a ptrcep- tion of cxtcrmd ohjeds; and (2.) that which maintains thiU we are scif-consrimis if rj/icirnri/, — have Ikumi nlways held in eomhiuation. though iUv. second has been fi-e(|uently held by philosophers who have aban- doned thi' lirst as untenable. Considering I hem to- gether, that is, as forming the opinion that we dji-cctly nnd immediately apprehend tho etliciency of causes, both external and internal, — this opiiii(»n is icfuted hy two objections. 'Jlic lirst is, that we have no such f| ;...,! '!l ISO AN OUTLIKE OF o M m M e M M I H ® -J >5 9 i H r 5 :3 o > "3 Q ": 3 t> It " •n s 1 iJ 'C H < t y CO ^-^ U> ^ i < U «i a n II H O u a » I 1 ■C J? O a r3 s ta o a 9 1 s § a a i3 i 1 3 3 3 a o it a 9 I a > -2 I I a to O - o o si & 'c> H M 5 •a CI -S .2 a « a g •3 o a .E '3 d to rl « o ^ .2 . ♦J » Tc 2 C 3 i3 s a «" a . -a \ •g ? ?» 8 - .» ^ o SI BO 8 M J §. M ? 3 ■- w 4> OS & a •In. M .2 S H '/3 to .S7/; Wll.I.I.Wf /I.l\ffLTOX S I'lIILOSHH'llY. l«l apprclionsion ; the socoml, that if wo had, tliis Ihmhu: lucrt'Iy oin[)iri('iil, incivly convcrsaiil \\'\{\\ indi- vidual iustaiioos, could never account for llic t|uality ot" nci-essity tmd univcrsalit}' which accompanies the ju[)inion was, in one chapter of his Essai/, advanced l)y Locke, and, at a very recent (hite, it has been amplilicd and enforced with distinLTiiished ability by the lat(^ M. Maine pear to us only as successive ; it is h ^ ■M w. %^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 •- IIIIIM IIIM 12.2 1.8 1-4 ill 1.6 V] <^ //. ^l 'a c^. c?1 m> 'm i. >;' of solid the will ; but of this motion we know, from consciousness, abso- lutely nothing. A person struck with paralysis is conscious of no inability in his limb to fulfil the de- terminations of his will ; and it is only after having willed, and finding that his limbs do not obey his vo- lition, that ho learns by his experience, that the exter- nal movement does not follow the internal act. But as the paralytic learns after the volition that his limbs do not obey his mind ; so it is only after volition that the man in health learns that his limbs do obey the mandates of his will. (h) The Second Ohjection^ mentioned above, is fatal to the theory which would found the judgment of causality on any empirical cognition, whether of the phenomena of mind or of the phenomena of nuit- tcr. Admittinir that causation were conrnizablc, and that perception and self-consciousness were competent to its apprehension, still, as these faculties could only take note of individual causations, we should be wholly unable, out of such empirical acts, to evolve the quality of necessity and universality, hy which this notion is distinsruishcd. Admitting? that we had really observed the agency of any number of causes, still this would not explain to us how we are unable to think a manifestation of existence without thinking it as an effect. Our internal experience, especially in the relation of our volitions to their efiocts, may be useful in giving us a clearer notion of causality ; but it is altogether incompetent to account for what in it there is of the quality of necessity. II. As the first and second opinions have been usually associated, so also have the third find fourth ; PI 184 AN OUTLINE OF li I -.i.U , that is, tliG doctrine that our notion of causality is the offspring of the objective principle of Induction or Gen- eralization^ and the doctrine tJiat it is the offspring of the subjective principle of Association or Custom. 3. In regard to the former, it is plain that the ob- servation that certain phenomena are found to succeed certain other phenomena, and the generalization con- sequent thereon, that these are reciprocally causes and effects, could never of itself have engendered, not only the strong, but the irresistible belief, that every event must have its cause. Each of these observa- tions is contingent ; and any number of observed con- tingencies will never impose upon us the feeling of necessity, — of our inability to think the opposite. Nay, more, this theory evolves the absolute notion of causality out of the observation of a certain number of uniform consecutions among phenomena ; that is, it would collect that all must be, because some are. But w^c find no diflSculty whatever in conceiving the reverse of all or any of the consecutions we have ob- served ; and yet the general notion of causality, which, ex hypothesi, is their result, avc cannot possibly think as possibly unreal. We have always seen a stone fall to the ground when thrown into the air ; but we find no difficulty in representing to ourselves the possibility of one or all stones gravitating from the earth ; only Ave cannot conceive the possibility of this, or any other event, happening without a cause. 4. Nor does the latter afford a better solution. The necessity of so thinking cannot be derived from a custom of so thinking. Allow the force of custom to sin WILLIAM HAMILTON s pniLOsopnr. 185 be great as may be, still it is always limited to the customary ; and the customary has nothing whatever in it of the necessary. But we have here to account not for a strong, but ybr an absolutely irresistible belief. On this theory, also, the causal judgment, when asso- ciation is recent, should be weak, and should only gradually acquire its full force in proportion as cus- tom becomes inveterate. But do we find that the causal judgment is weaker in the young, stronger in the old? There is no difference. In either case, there is no less and no more ; the necessity in both is absolute. (B) Theories which maintain the Causal Judg- ment TO BE a Deliverance of Intelligence. Of the four opinions comprised under this category, I. The first two agree in holding that the causal judgment may ])e identified with a primary intellec- tual principle. 5. Of these, the first (the fifth in general) main- tains that this principle is necessary, making its rejec- tion in thought impossible. To this are to be referred the relative theories of Descartes, Leibnitz, Karnes, Reid, Kant, Fichte, Bouterweck, Jacobi, Stewart, Cousin, and the majority of modern philosophers. Now, without descending into details, it is manifest in general, that against the assumption of a special principle, which this doctrine makes, there exists a primary presumption of philosophy. This is the Law of Parcimony, which forbids, without necessity, the multiplication of entities, powers, principles, or causes ; above all, the postulation of an unknown force where a known impotence can account for the 186 AN OUTLINE OF phenomenon. Wc arc, therefore, entitled to apply Occam's razor to this theory of causality, unless it be proved impossible to explain the causal judgment at a cheaper rate, by deriving it from a higher, and that a negative, origin. On a doctrine like the present is thrown the onus of vindicating its necessity, by show- ing that, unless a special and positive principle be assumed, there exists no competent mode to save the phenomena. It can only, therefore, be admitted pro- visorily ; and it falls of course, if the phenomenon it "would explain can ho explained on less onerous condi- tions. Leaving, therefore, this theory, which cer- tainly does account for the phenomenon, to fall or stand, according as either of the two last opinions be, or be not, found sufficient, I go on to that preceding these. 6. Dr. Brown has promulgated a doctrine of Caus- ality, which may be numbered as the sixth ; though perhaps it is hardly deserving of distinct enumeration. He actually identifies the causal judgment, which to us is necessary, with the principle by which Ave are merchj inclined to believe in the uniformity of nature's operations. But apart from all subordinate objec- tions, it is sufficient to say that the phenomenon to be explained is the necessity of thinking, — the absolute impossibility of not thinking, — a cause ; whilst all that the latter pretends to is, to incline us to expect that like antecedents will be followed by like conse- quents. This necessity to suppose a cause for every phenomenon, Dr. Brown, if he does not expressly deny, keeps cautiously out of view, virtually, in fact, SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PniLOSOPHY. 187 eliminating all that requires explanation in the prob- lem. II. The two remaining theories agree with the fifth and sixth in regarding the causal judgment as oi a pn- on origin, but differ from them in viewing it as deriV' ative and secondary. Of these two theories, 7. The first attempts to establish the principle of Causality upon the principle of Contradiction. Listen to the pretended demonstration : 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, which makes us aware that nothing is not something, shows us that everything must have a real cause of its existence. To this it is sufficient to say, that the existence of causes being the point in ques- tion, the existence of causes must not be taken for granted in the very reasoning which attempts to prove their reality. In cr.cluding causes, we exclude all causes ; and consequently exclude " nothing " con- sidered as a cause ; it is not, therefore, allowable, contrary to that exclusion, to suppose ^* nothing" as a cause, and then from the absurdity of that supposition to infer the absurdity of the exclusion itself. If every- thing must have a cause, it follows that, upon the ex- clusion of other causes, we must accept of nothing as a cause. But it is the very point at issue, whether everything must have a cause or not ; and, therefore, it violates the first principles of reasoning to take this qufEsitum itself as granted. This opinion is now uni- versally abandoned. 8. The eighth and last opinion is that which re- 188 Ay OUTLINE OF fi 1 1 ji-: il'i: III-' ft! ■ I gards the jiitlgraciit of causality as derived ; and derives it not from a power, but from an impotence, of mind ; iu a word, from the principle of the Con- ditioned. I do not think it possible, without a de- tailed exposition of the various categories of thought, to make you fully understand the grounds and bear- ings of this opinion. In attempting to explain, j'ou must, therefore, allow me to take for granted certain laws of thought, to which I have only been able inci- dentally to allude. Those, however, which I postu- late, are such as are now generally admitted by all philosophers who allow the mind itself to be a source of cognitions ; and the only one which has not been recognized by them, but which, as I endeavored Ijriefly to prove, must likewise be taken into account, is the Law of the Conditioned, that the conceivable has always two opposite extremes, and that the extremes are equally inconceivable. Philosophers, who allow a native principle to the mind at all, allow that Existence is such a principle. I shall, therefore, take for granted Existence as the highest category or condition of thought. All that we i)erceive or imagine as different from us, we per- ceive or imagine as objectively existent. All that we are conscious of as an act or modification of self, we arc conscious of only as subjectively existent. All thought, therefore, implies the thought of existence. As a second category or subjective condition of thought, I postulate that of Time. This likewise cannot be denied me. It is the necessary condition of every conscious act ; thought is only realized to us as in succession, and succession is ojily conceived by sin WILLIAM nAMILTOy'S rniLOSOPTIY. 189 ; and tence, ! Con- L a de- ought, 1 bcar- 11, you certain Ic inci- postu- by all source ot been savored ccount, lUe has mes are to the •inciple. as the lA.ll that we per- Ul that of self, nt. All istence. ition of likewise ondition ;cd to lis jived by us under the concept of time. Existence and Exist- ence in Time is thus an elementary form of our intel- ligence. But Ave do not conceive existence in time absolutely or infinitely, — we conceive it only as con- ditioned in time; and Existence Conditioned in Time expresses, at once and in relation, the three categories of thought Avhich afford us in combination the princi- ple of Causality. This requires some explanation. When we perceive or imagine an object, we per- ceive or imagine it (1.) As existent, and (2.) As in Time ; Existence and Time being categories of all thought. But what is meant by saying, I perceive, or imagine, or, in general, think an object only as I perceive, or imagine, or, in general, think it to exist? Simply this : that, as thinking it, I cannot but thmk it to exist, in other words, that I cannot annihilate it in thought. I may think away from it, I may turn to other things, and I can thus exclude it from my consciousness ; but, actually thinking it, I cannot think it as non-existent, for as it is thought, so it is thouijht existent. But a thing is thought to exist, only as it is thought to exist in time. Time is present, past, and future. "We cannot think an oljject of thought as non-existent depresenti. But can we think that quantum of exist- ence of which an object, real or ideal, is the comple- ment, as non-existent, either in time past, or in time future? Make the experiment. Try to think the ob- ject of your thought as non-existent in the moment before the present. You cannot. Try it in the mo- ment before that. You cannot. Nor can you annihi- late it by carrying it back to any moment, however 190 AN OUTLINE OF HAMILTON S PniLOSOPHY. w& distant ill the past. You may conceive the parts of which this complement of existence is composed, as separated ; if a material object, you can think it as shivered to atoms, sublimated into ether; but not one iota of existence can you conceive as annihilated, which subsequently you thought to exist. In like manner, try the future, — try to conceive the prospec- tive annihilation of any present object, of any atom of any present object. You cannot. All this may bo possible, but of it we cannot think the possibility. But if you can thus conceive neither the absolute com- mencement nor the absolute termination of anything that is once thought to exist, try, on the other hand, if you can conceive the opposite alternative of infinite non-commencement, or of infinite non-termination. To this you are equally impotent. This is the cate- gory of the Conditioned as applied to the category of Existence under the category of Time. But in this application is the principle of Causality not given ? Why, what is the law of Causality ? Sim- ply this, — that, when an object is presented phenom- enally as commencing, we cannot but suppose that the complement of existence, which it now con- tains, has previously been ; in other words, that all that we at present come to know as an effect must previously have existed in its causes ; though what these causes are, we may perhaps be altogether un- able even to surmise. (^Lect. on Metaph,, XXXIX., and Discussions^ pp. 609-622. Compare also Lect. on MetapJi.y XL.) ' ;!h ill SECOND PART OF PHENOMENAL PSYCHOLOGY. PHENOMENOLOQT OF THE FEELINQS. If: it; m - ( SECOND PART OF PHENOMENAL PSYCHOLOGY. PIIENOiMENOLOGY OF THE FEELINGS. INTRODUCTION. In entering on the second grcjil class or* mental phenomena, there is a preliminary qnestion tu be dis- posed of: What is the position of the Feelings by reference to the two other classes ; and, in particular, should the consideration of the Feelings precede or follow that of the Conations ? To resolve this problem let us take an example. A j)erson is fond of cards. In a company, where ho beholds a game in progress, there arises a desire to join in it. Now, the desire is hero manifestly kin- dled by the pleasure which the person had and has in the play. Tlie feeling thus connects the cognition of the play with the desire to join in it ; it forms the bridge, and contains the motive, by which we are roused from mere knowledge lo appetency, — to co- nation, by reference to which we move ourselves so as to attain the end in view. Thus we find, in actual life, the Feelings interme- diate between the Coojnitious and the Conations. And Li ) 13 198 194 AN OUTLINE OF HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPHY. this relative position ol the several powers is neces- sary : without the previous cognition, there could be neither feeling nor conation ; and without the previ- ous feeling there could be no conation. For if the mere cognition of a thing were sufficient to rouse co- nation, then it is evident (1.) that all objects, known in the same manner and in the same degree, would become equally the objects of desire and will ; while (2.) all persons would desire an object equally, as long as their cognition of the object remained the same. Our conclusion, therefore, is, that as in our actual existence the feelings find their place after the cogni- tions and before the conations, so in the science of mind the theory of the feelings ought to follow that of our faculties of knowledge, and to precede that of our faculties of will and desire. ''■y neces- uld be previ- L- if the luse co- known , would ; while ally, as ned the ir actual le cogni- lience of How that » that of PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE FEELINGS. CHAPTER I. ABSTRACT THEORY OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. I PROCEED to deliver the theory of pleasure and pain. I. Mau exists only as he lives ; as an intelligent and sensible being, he consciously lives, but this only as he consciously energizes. Human existence is only a more general expression for human life, and human life only a more general expression for the sum of energies in which that life is realized, and through which it is manifested in consciousness. Observation. The term energy is here used to com- prehend all the mixed states of action and passion of which we are conscious. n. Human existence, human life, human energy, is not unlimited, but on the contrary determined to a certain number of modes, through which alone it can possibly be exerted. These different modes of action are called, in diflferent relations, ^ou;er5, faculties^ ca- pacities^ dispositions^ habits. ni. Man, as he consciously exists, is the subject of pleasure and pain ; and these of various kinds ; 196 im AN OUTLINE OF M m iiii but as man consciously exists in and through tho exertion of certain determinate poAvers, so it is only through the exertion of these powers that he becomes the subject of pleasure and pain ; each power being in itself at once the foculty of a specific energy, and a capacity of an appropriate pleasure or pain, as tho concomitant of that energy. IV. The energy of each power of conscious exist- ence having, as its reflex or concomitant, an appro- priate pleasure or pain, and no pleasure or pain being competent to man, except as .the concomitant of some determinate energy of life, the all-important question arises : What is the general law under which these counter-phenomena appear in all their special mani- festations ? V. The answer to this question is : the more perfect, the more pleasurable, the energy ; the more imperfect, the more painful. VI. The perfection of an energy is twofold : (1.) subjective, by relation to the power of which it is tho exertion; (2.) objective, by relation to the object about which it is conversant. VII. (1.) JB>j relation to its power, an energy is perfect, when it is tantamount (a) to the full, and (&) not to more than the full, complement of free and spontaneous energy which the power is capable of exerting ; an energy is imperfect, either (a) when the power is restrained from putting forth the whole amount of energy it would otherwise tend to do, or (b) when it is stimulated to put forth a larger amount than that to which it is spontaneously disposed. The amount of energy in the case of a single power sin WILLIAM Hamilton's philosophy. 197 jh tho s only icomes ■ being y, and as tho 3 exist- appro- 11 being •f some nestion li these I mani- c more 10 more 1: (1.) it is tho ! object ncrgy is and (&) free and )able of competent without straining ; an imperfect energy, that which is evolved by a power in a lower or in a higlier degree, for a shorter or for a longer con- tinuance than, if left to itself, it would freely ex- ert. When we look to complex states in which ^plurality of powers may be simultaneously called into action, we have, besides («) the intensive and (Jj) protensive quantities of energy, (c) a third kind, to wit, the ex- tensive quantity. A state is said to contain a greater amount of extensive energy, in proportion as it forms the complement of a greater number of simultaneously co-operating powers. This complement, it is evident, may be conceived as made up either of energies all intensively and protensively perfect and pleasurable ; or of energies all intensively and protensively imper- fect and painful ; or of energies partly perfect, partly imperfect ; and this in every combination afforded by the various perfections and imperfections of the inten- sive and proteJisive quantities. It may be here noticed that the intensive and the two other quantities stand always in an inverse ratio to each other; that is, the higher the degree of any en- ergy, the shorter is its conrinnanco, and, during its continuance, the more completely does it constitute the whole mental state. VIII. (2.) By relation to the object about which it is conversant (and by object is hero deno'-ed every objective cause by which a power is determined to m,w^ 198 A^ OUTLINE or i'3 :lii« activity) , an energy is perfect, when this object is of such a character as to afford to its power the condition requisite to let it spring to full spontaneous activity ; imperfect, when the object is of such a character as either (a) to stimulate tiie power to a degree or to a continuance of activity beyond its maximum of free exertion ; or (6) to thAvart it in its tendency towards this its natural limit. An object is consequently pleasurable or painful, inasmuch as it determines a power to perfect or to imperfect energy. But an object, or plurality of objects simultaneously presented, may determine a plurality of powers into co-activity. The complex state, which thus arises, is pleasurable in proportion as its constitutive energies are severally more perfect ; painful in proportion as these are more imperfect : and in proportion as an object, or a complement of objects, occasions the av- erage perfection or the average imperfection of the complex state, is it, in like manner, pleasurable or painful. IX. In conformity to this doctrine, pleasure and pain may be thus defined : Pleasure is a reflex of the spontaneous and unimpeded exertion of a power, of whose energy ive are conscious; Pain, a reflex of the overstrained or repressed exertion of such a power. Observations. I. In illustration of these definitions it may be observed that, 1. Pleasure is defined to be the reflex of perfect energy, and not to be either energy or the perfection of energy itself; and why? (a) It is not simply de- fined an energy, because some energies are not pleas- urable, being either painful or indifferent. (6) It is SIR IFILLTAAf HAMILTON^ S PniLOSOPnY. 199 it is of nclition itivity ; ctcr as or to a of free ;owards quently nines a neously 3rs into rises, is energies rtion as n as an the av- of the i-able or ure and ex of the 7wer, of X of the cer. ;finitions * perfect crfection nply de- ot pleas- (h) It is not simply defined the perfection of an energy, be- cause we can easily separate in thought the perfection of an act from any feeling of pleasure in its perform- ance. The same holds true, mutatis imitandis, of the definition of pain, as a reflex of imperfect energy. 2. The term sjiontaneous refers to the subjective, the term unimpeded to the objective, perfection. 3. There are powers in man, the activities of which lie beyond the sphere of consciousness ; ^ but it is of the very essence of pleasure and pain to be felt, and there is no feeling out of consciousness. n. It is also to be observed that, on this doctrine, there are different kinds of pleasure and pain. 1. In the first place, these are twofold, inasmuch as each is either positive and absolute or negative and rel- ative, (a) Tlie mere negation of pain docs, by re- lation to pain, constitute a state of pleasure. Thus the removal of toothache replaces us in a state which, though one really of indifierence, is, by contrast to our previous agony, felt as pleasurable. This is neg- ative or relative pleasure, (b) Positive or absolute pleasure, on the contrary, is all that pleasure Avhich wo feel above a state of indifference, and which is therefore prized as a good in itself, and not simply as the removal of an evil. On the same principle pain is also divided. 2. But, in the second place, there is a subdivision of positive pain into («) that which accompanies a repression of the spontaneous energy of a power, and (b) that which is cAijoined with its effort when stim- ulated to over-activity. (Lect. on 3Ietap>h., XLII.) ' See Phenomenology of the Cognitions, Chap. II., § 1. 'f^ m ll ft PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE FEELINGS. CHAPTER II. •,i .f! the abstract theory applied to the concrete phenomena: classification of the feelings. We may consider the feelings either a? causes or as effects. (1.) As causes ^ they are viewed m relation to their product, — pleasure, or pain. (2.) As effects^ they are viewed, as themselves products of the action of our different constitutive functions. § 1. THE FEELINGS AS CAUSES. In this point of view, the feelings are distributed simply into the pleasurable and the painful; and it remains, on the theory I have i)roposed, to explain in general the causes of these opposite affections, without descending to their special kinds. I. The theory meets with no contradiction from the fiicts of actual life ; for the contradictions, which at first sight these seem to offer, prove, when examined, to be real confirmations. Thus ft miffht be thought that the aversion from exercise, — the love of idle- ness, — in a word, the dolce far niente, — is a proof 200 in AN OUTLINE OF HAMILTON'S PIllLOSOPnY. 201 NCRETE INGS. uses or relation 5 effects, 5 action tributed and it plain in without from the vhich at amined, thought of idle- a proof that the inactivity, rather than the cxcrdon, of our powers is the condition of our pleasurable feelings. This objection, from a natural proneness to inertion in man, is superficial. Is the far niente — is that doing nothing, in which so many find so sincere a gratification — in reality a negation of activity, and not in truth itself an activity intense and varied? To do nothing, in this sense, is simply to do nothing irk- some, especially to do no outward work. But is the mind internally, the while, unoccupied and inert? This, on the contrary, may be vividly alive, — may he intently engaged in the spontaneous play of imagina- tion ; and so far, therefore, in this case, from pleasure being the concomitant of inactivity, the activity is at once vigorous and unimpeded, and such accordingly as, on our theory, Avould be accompanied by a high degree of pleasure. Ennui is the state on which we find nothing to exercise our powers ; but ennui is a state of pain. II. A strong confirmation of the theory is derived from the phenomena presented by those affections which we emphatically denominate the painful. 1. Take, for example, the affection of gnef\ — the sorrow we feel in the loss of a beloved object. Is this affection unaccompanied with pleasure? So far is this from being the case, that the pleasure so greatly predominates over the pain as to produce a mixed emotion, which is far more pleasurable than any other of which the wounded heart is susceptible. 2. In like manner, fear is not simply painful. It is a natural disposition, has a tendency to act ; and there is consequently, along with its essential pain, a ^ ' 202 AN OUTLINE OF certain pleasure as the reflex of its energy, finely expressed by Akensitle : — This is if "Ilcnce, finally, hy night The village matron round the blazing hearth Suspends the infant audicnee with her tales, Breathing astonishment! of witehing rhymes And evil spirits of the death-bed call Of him who robbed the widow and devoured The orphan's portion; of unquiet souls Kisen from the grave to case the heavy guilt Of deeds in life concealed ; of shapes tliat walk At dead of night and clank their chains, and wave The torch of hell around the murderer's bed. At every solemn pause the crowd recoil, Gazing each other speechless, and congealed "With shivering sighs, till, eager for the event, Around the beklame all erect they hang. Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quelled." 3. Pitf/, also, which, being a sympathetic passion, implies a participation in sorrow, is yet confessedly agreeable. The poet even accords to the energy of this benevolent affection a preference over the enjoy- ments of an exclusive selfishness : — " The broadest mirth unfeeling folly wears Is not so sweet as virtue's very tears." 4. On the same principle is to be explained the en- joyment which men have in spectacles of suffering, — in the combats of animals and men, in executions, in tragedies, etc. ; a disposition which not unfrequently becomes an irresistible habit, not only for individuals, but also for nations. The excitation of energetic emotions, painful in themselves, is also pleasura- ble. ?his is ed." passion, fessedly crgy of cnjoy- the en- ring, — ;ions, in cqnently ividuals, nergetic )leasura- sin WILLIAM HAMILTON S PniLOSOPHY. 203 "We ma}' here notice four tjeneml cmtse/i which con- tribute to raise or to lower tlic iutensitv of our encr- gics, and consequeutly to determine the correspond- ing degree of pleasure or pain. I. ^fovelfij. The principle on which novelty determines a higher energy is tworfold ; and of these the one may be called the subjective, the other the ohjedive. 1. In a suhjedlve relation, the new is pleasurable, inasmuch as this supposes that the mind is determined to a mode of action, either from inactivity or from another state of cnerg3\ («) In the former case, en- ergy, the condition of pleasure, is caused ; (7>) in the latter, a change of energy is afforded, which is also pleasural)le ; for powers energize less vigorously in proportion to the continuance of the same exertion, and, consequentl}', a new activity being determined, this replaces a strained or expiring exercise, that is, it replaces a painful, indifferent, or unpleasurable feel- ing by one of comparatively vivid enjoyment. 2. In an objective relation, a novel object is pleas- ing, because it affords a gratification to our desire of knowledge. The old is already known, and therefore no longer occupies the cognitive faculties ; whereas the new, as new, is still unknown, and rouses to en- ergy the powers by which it is to be brought within the system of our knowledge. II. Contrast operates in two ways ; for it has the effect of enhanciiifj both the real or absolute, and the apparent or relative, intensity of a feeling. (1.) As an instance of the former, the unkindness of a person, from whom we expect kindness, rouses to a far higher I ■ ti . I fr • ' 204 AN OVTLTXE OP pitcli the cmotions'conscquent on injury. (2.) As an instance of the latter, the pleasure of eating appears proportionally great when it is immediately con- nected and contrasted with the removal of the pangs of hunger. JII. The relation% of Iiai'mo)i7/ or discord^ in which one coexistent activity stands to another. At differ- ent times wc exist in different complex states of feeling, and these states are made up of a number of constituent thoughts and affections. At one time — say during a sacred solemnity — wo are in a very different frame of mind from what we are in at an- other, — say during the representation of a comedy. NoAv, then, in such a state of mind, if anything occurs to awaken to activity a power previously occupied, or to occupy a power, previously in energy, in a differ- ent manner, this new mode of activity is either of the same general character and tendency with the other constituent elements of the complex state, or it is not. (1.) In the former case, the new energy chimes in Avith the old ; each operates without impediment from the other, and the general harmony of feeling is not violated; (2.) in the latter case, the new energy jars with the old, and each severally counteracts and im- pedes the other. Thus, in the sacred solemnity, and when onr minds are brought to a state of serious con- tomplation, everything that operates in unison with that state — say a pious discourse or a strain of sol- emn music — will have a greater effect. But suppose that, instead of the pious discourse, or the strain of solemn music, we are treated to a merry tune or a witty address; these, though at another season they \l Snt WILLIAM HAMILTOX^S PniLOSOPHY. 205 • might afford us considerable pleasure, would, under the circumstances, cause only pain. IV. Association. It is evident, in the Jirst place, that one object, considered simply and in itnelf, will be more pleasing than another, in proportion as it, of its proper nature, determiu'^s the exertion of a greater amount of free energy. Bui, in the second place, the amount of free energy, v/lucli an object may itself elicit, is small, when coPuparcd with the amount that may be elicited by its train of associated representa- tions. Thus it is evident, that the object, which in itself would otherwise be pleasing, may, through the accident of association, be the occasion of pain ; and on the contrary, that an object, naturally indiffer- ent or even painful, may, by the same contingency, be productive of pleasure. This principle accounts for a great many of our intellectual pleasures and pains ; but it is far from accounting for everj^thhig. In fact, it supposes, as its condition, that there are pains and pleasures not founded on association. Association is a principle of pleasure and pain, only as it is a principle of energy of one character or another ; and the attempts that have been made to resolve all our mental pleasures and pains into association are guilty of a twofold vice. For (1.) they convert a partial into an exclusive law ; and (2.) they elevate a subordinate into a supreme princi^wc. {Led. on Metaph., XLIV.) The inlluence of association, by which Mr. Alison and Lord Jeffrey, among others, have attempted to explain the W'holc phenomena of our intellectual pleasures, was more properly, I think, apprecititcd by rs 20G AN OUTLIXK OF r i-^ IIutcliGson. "Wc shall sec horcaftor," he says, and Aristotle said the same thing, "that associations of ideas make objects pleasant and delightful, Avhich arc not naturally apt to give any such pleasures ; and tlie same way, the casual conjunction of ideas may give a disgust where there is nothing disagreeable in the form itself. And this is the occasion of many fantas- tic aversions to figures of some animals and to some other forms. Thus swine, serpents of all Ivinds, and some insects really beautiful enough, arc beheld with aversion by many people, who have got some acci- dental ideas associated with them. And for distastes of this kind no other account can be given." m Mifi § 2. THE FEELINGS AS EFFECTS. Since all feeling is the state in which we are con- scious of some of the energies or processes of life, as these energies or processes differ, so will the correla- tive feelings : in a word, there will be as many differ- ent feelings as there are distinct modes of mental activity. Now, the feelings, which accompany the exertion of the bodily powers, whether cognitive or appctcnt, will constitute a distinct class, to which we may with great propriety give the name of Sensations; whereas, on the feelings, which accompany the ener- gies of all our higher powers of mind, we may, Avith equal propriety, bestow the name of Sentiments. (A) The Sensations may be divided mto two classes: (1.) those included under what has been called Sensiis Fixus, comprehending the five deter- minate senses of touch, taste, smell, hearinf/, sight; (2.) Ki i sin WILLIAM JlAMILTOy's PJIILOSOPJir. 207 those inc'lutlcd under Avhiit has l)eeu called Sensus Vcif/ui^y eoiiipreheiiding such scn.sations us tiiosc of h at und cold, of muscular tension mid lassitude, of hunyer und. (hirst, etc. I. /SensHs Fixus. In regard to the detenniuato seuses, each of these organs has its specific action, and its appropriate pleasure or pain. This pleasure und pain, which is that alone belonging to the action of the living organ, and which therefore may be styled organic, Ave must distinguish from that higher feeling, which perhaps results from the exercise of imagina- tion and intellect upon the phenomena delivered by the senses. Thus, I would call organic the pleasure we feel in the perception of green or blue, and the pain we feel in the perception of a dazzling white ; but I would be perhaps disposed to refer to some other power than the external sense the enjoyment we experience in the harmony of colors, and certainly that which Ave find in the proportions of figure. When it is required of us to explain, particularly and in detail, Avhy the rose, for example, produces this sensation of smell, assafcetida that other, and so forth, and to say in Avhat peculiar action does the per- fect or pleasurable, and the imperfect or painful, ac- tivity of an organ consist, Ave must at once profess our ignorance. All that aa'c can say is, that, on the general analogy of our being, Avhcn the impression of an object on a sense is in harmony Avith its amount of power, and thus alloAvs it the condition of springing to full spontaneous energy, the result is pleasure ; Avhereas, Avhen the impression is out of harmony Avith , i. m 208 AN OUTLINE OF h the amount of power, and thus either represses it or stimulates it to over-activity, the result is pain. II. JSensus Vagus. The same explanation must be applied to the sensations which belong to this sense, but in regard to these it is not necessary to say any- thing in detail. (B) The Sentiments may be divided into (1.) the contemjjlafive, the concomitants of our cognitive pow- ers, and (2.) the practical, the concomitsmts of our powers of conation. * I. The contemplative sentiments are again distribu- ted into (1.) those of the subsidiari/ faculties, and (2.) those of the elahorative faculty. 1. The feelings, accompanying the si<&s/(7iary^/«c- ulties, may be sulidiv ided into (a) those of self-con- sciousness, and (h) those of imagination, compre- hendincr under imajrination the relative faculty of repimductlon. («) Sentiments attending Self -consciousness. By self-consciousness we become aware that we live. Now, ^ve are conscious of our life only as we are con- scious of our activity, and we are conscious of activity only as we are conscious of a change of state ; for all activity is the going out of one state into another. Now, if there be nothing which presents to our facul- ties the objects on which they may exert their activity ; in other words, if there be no cause whereby our act- ual state may be made to pass into another, 'there results a peculiar irksome feeling of a want of excite- ment, which Ave denominate tedium or ennui. An inability to thought is a security against this feeling, and therefore tedium is far less felt by the uncultivated SIR mZLIAM HAMlLTOifs PHILOSOPnT. 209 aud By live. D cou- tivity or all other. ■ueul- ivity ; ir act- tliorc xcite- An eliug, ivated than by the educated. The more varied the objects presented to our thought, the more varied and viva- cinns our activity, the intenser will be our conscious- ness of living, and the more rapidly will the time appear to fly. Hence Ave explain why we call our easy occupations jpastiiJies, and why play is so engag- ing when it is at all deep. Games of hazard de- termine a continual change, — now we hope, now Ave fear; Avhile in games of skill, we experience also the pleasure which arises from the activity of the under- standing in carrying through our own, and frustrating the plan of our antagonist. All that relieves tedium, by affording a change and an easy exercise for or.r thoughts, causes pleasure. The best cure of tedium is some occupation Avhich, by concentrating our attention on external objects, shall divert it from a retortion on ourselves. All occupa- tion is either labor or play ; labor when there is some end ulterior to the activity, play Avhen the activity is for its OAvn sake alone. In both, hoAvevcr, there must be ever and anon a change of object, or both Avill soon groAV tiresome. Labor is thus the best jn-eATntive of tedium, for it has an external motiA^e Avhich holds us steadfast to the work ; Avhile, after the completion of our task, the fooling of repose, as the change from the feeling of a constrained to that of a spontaneous state, affords a vivid and peculiar pleasure. Labor niurst alternate Avith repose, or Ave shall never know Avhat is the true enjoyment of life. Thus it appears that a uniform continuity In our in- ternal states is painful, and that pleasure is the result of their commutation. It is, hoAvcver, to be observed, U lil ■ T I- (.■I 210 AN OUTLINE OF .^i ■■■ 1 Si I lili that the change of our perceptions and thoughts, to be pleasing, must not be too rapid; for as the intervals, when too long, produce the feeling of tedium, so, when too short, they cause that oi giddiness or vertigo. The too rapid passing, for example, of visible objects or of tones before the senses, of images before the phantasy, of thoughts before the understanding, occa- sions the disagreeable feeling of confusion or stupe- faction, which, in individuals of very sensitive temperament, results in nausea or sickness. (b) Sentiments attending Imagination. Whatever in general facilitates the play of imagination, is felt as pleasing ; whatever renders it more difficult is felt as displeasing. We are pleased with the portrait of a person whose face we know, if like, because it en- ables us to recall the features into consciousness easily and freely ; and we are displeased with it, if unlike, because it not only does not assist, but thwarts us in our endeavor to recall them ; while, after this has been accomplished, we are still further pained by the disharmony we experience between the portrait on the canvas and the representation in our own imagina- tion. A short and characteristic description of things which Ave have seen pleases us, because, without exacting a protracted effort of attention, and through a few striking traits, it enables the imagination to place the objects vividly before it. On the same prin- ciple, whatever facilitates the reproduction of the ob- jects which have been consigned to memory is pleasurable ; as, for example, resemblances, contrasts, other associations with the passing thought, metro, rhyme, symmetry, appropriate designations, etc. To Srn WILLIAM HAMILTON' S PniLOSOPHY. 211 things dtliout [ion to |c prin- thc ob- [ory is Itrasts, I metre, To realize an act of imagination it is necessary that we comprehend the manifold as a single whole : an ob- ject, therefore, which does not allow itself without difficulty to be thus represented in unity, occasions pain ; whereas an object, which can easily be recalled to system, is the cause of pleasure." The former is the case Avhen the object is too large or too complex to be perceived at once, when the parts arc not promi- nent enough to be distinctly impressed on the memory. Order and symmetry, again, facilitate the acts of re- production and representation, and consequently afford us a proportional gratification. But, on the other hand, as pleasure is in proportion to the amount of free energy, an object which gives no impediment to the comprehensive energy of imagination may not Ijo pleasura!)le, if it be so simple as not to aff()rd to this facult}'' a sufficient exercise. Hence it is, that not variety alone, and not unity alone, but variety com- bined with unity, is that quality in objects, which we emphatically denominate beautiful. 2. Under the head of the feelings which are asso- ciated with the elnhoratlve faculty or the understand- ing, it will be proper to consider, in the lirst place, those which arise from the operations of the under- standing by itself, and afterwards those which accom- pany the joint exercise of the understanding and the imagination. («) Sentiments aUendhuj the exercise of the U/ider- slandi)ig by itself The function of the understanding may in general be said to bestow, on the cognitions which it elaborates, the greatest possi])lc compass, the greatest possible clearness and distinctness, the great- 11 ,11 212 AN OUTLINE OF It h I -i 11 ild est possible certainty and systematic order ; and inas- mucli as we approximate to the atjcomplishmeut of these ends, we experience pleasure ; inasmuch as we meet with hindrances in our attempts, wc experience pain. Obscurity and confusion in our cognitions wo feel as disagreeable, whereas their clearness and dis- tinctness afford us sincere gratitication. AVc arc pained l)y a hazy and perplexed discourse, but rejoice in one perspicuous and profound. Hence the pleasure we experience in having the cognitions we possessed, but darkling and confused, explicated into life and order ; and, on this account, there is hardly a more pleasing object than a tabular conspectus of any com- plex whole. We are soothed by the solution of a riddle; and the wit which, like a flash of lightning, discovers similarities between objects which seemed contradictor3^ affords a still intenser enjoyment. The multitude — the multifarious character — of the objects presented to our observation stands in signal contrast Avith the very limited capacity of the human intellect. This disproportion couGtrains us to classify. Now, the process of classification is per- formed by that function of the understanding which apprehends resemblances. In this detection of the similarities between different objects an energy of the understanding is fully and freely exerted ; and hence results a pleasure. But as in general notions the knowledge of individual existences loses in precision and completeness, we again endeavor to find out dif- ferences in the things which stand under a notion, to the end that we may be able to specify and individual- ize them. This counter-process is performed by that 1:1 sin WILLIAM HAMILTON'S PIIILOSOPHY. 213 function of the understanding which apprehends dis- similarities between resembling objects, and in the full and tree exertion of this energy there is a feeling of pleasure. The intellect further tends to reduce the piecemeal and fragmentary cognitions it possesses to a systematic whole ; in other words, to elevate them into Science. Hence the pleasure we derive from all that enal)les us with ease and rapidity to survey the relation of com- plex parts as constituting the members of one organic whole. The intellect, from the necessity it has of thinking everything as the result of some higher reason, is thus determined to attempt the deduction of every object of cognition from a simple principle. When, therefore, Ave succeed or seem to succeed in the discovery of such a principle, we feel a pleasure ; as we feel a pain when the intellect is frustrated in this endeavor. To the feelings of pleasure which are affor«led by the unimpeded energies of the understanding l)elongs, likewise, the gratification we find in the apprehension of adaptation of means to ends. Human intelligence is naturally determined to propose to itself an end ; and, in the consideration of objects, it thus naturally thinks them under this relation. If, therefore, wo con- sider an object in reference to an end, and if this ob- ject be recognized to fulfil the conditions which this relation implies, the act of thought, in which this is accomplished, is an unimpeded and consequently pleasurable energy ; whereas the act of cognizing that these conditions are wanting, and the object therefore « Wl K ' 214 AN^ OUTLINE OF i< ill adapted to its cad, is a thwarted, and therefore a painful, energy of thought. {h) Sentiments attending the Understanding and the Imagination in conjunction. The feelings of satis- faetioii Avhich result from Xha 2)Jastic imagination, that is, the phantasy and the understanding conjointly, arc principally those of beauty and sublimity; and the judgments which pronounce an object to be sublime, heauUfnl, etc., are called, by a metaphorical expres- sion, Judgments of Taste. They have also been called u'Estlietical Judgments ; but both terms are unsatis- factor}'. In the following observations it is almost needless to observe that I can make no attempt at more than a simple indication of the origin of the pleasure we derive from the contemplation of those objects, which, from the character of the feelings they determine, are called beautiful, sublime, picturesque, etc. i. The Beautiful has been divided into the free or absolute, and the dej^endent or relative. In the former ease it is not necessary to have a notion of what the ob- ject ought to be before we pronounce it beautiful, or not ; in the latter case such a previous notion is required. "We judge, for example, a flower to be beautifid, though unaware of its destination, and that it contains a complex apparatus of organs all admirably adapted to the propagation of the plant. When we are made cognizant of this, we obtain, indeed, an additional gratiiication, but one wholly different from that which we experience in the contemplation of the flower itself, apart from all consideration of its adaptations. This distinction appears to me unsound. What has SIR VriLLJAM IIAAflLTOX s pniLOSonnv. 215 !: been distinguished as dependent or relative beauty is nothing more than a beautified utility or a utilized beauty. Be this, however, as it may, our pleasure in both cases arises from a free and full play being allowed to our cognitive faculties. (a) In the case of yree beauty, — beauty, strictly so called, — both the imairination and the understand- ing find occupation ; and the pleasure we experience from such an object is in proportion as it affords to these faculties the opportunity of exerting fidly and freely their respective energies. Now, it is the prin- cipal function of the understanding, out of the multi- farious presented to it, to form a whole. Its entire activity is, in fact, a tendency towards unity ; and it is only satisfied when this object is so constituted as to afford the opportunity of an easy and perfect per- formance of this its function. The ol)ject is then judged to be beautiful or pleasing. This enables us to explain the diflerences of different individuals in the apprehension of the beautiful. If an understand- ing, by natural constitution, by cultivation and exer- cise, be vigorous enough to think up rapidl}' into a whole what is presented in complexity, the individual has an enjoyment, and he regards the object as beau- tiful ; whereas if an intellect perform this function slowly and with effort, if it succeed in accomplishing the end at all, the individual can feci no pleasure (if he does not experience pain), and the object nmst to him appear as one destitute of beauty, if not positively ugly. Hence it is that chiklren, boors, in a word persons of a weak or uncultivated mind, may find the !«l i: 216 AJf OUTLINE OF i t h^ ] ! parts of a building beautiful, ^vhilc unable to compre- hend the beauty of it as a whole. ((5) In the ease of relat've or dependent beauty we must distinguish the pleasure we receive into two, combined indeed, but not identical. The one of these pleasures is that from the beauty which the object contains, and the principle of which we have been just considering. The other of these pleasures is that ^vhich we showed was attached to a perfect energy of the understanding in thinking an object tuidcr the notion of conformity as a mean adapted to an end. The result, then, of what has now been said is, that a thing beautiful is one ivhose form occujnes the imagi- nation and understanding in a free and full, and con- sequently in an agreeable, activity. ii. The feeling of pleasure in the sublime is essen- tially different from our feeling of pleasure in the beautiful. The beautiful affords a feelins: of nn- mingled pleasure in the full and unimpeded activity of our cognitive powers ; whereas our feeling of sub- limity is a mingled one of pleasure and of pain, — of pleasure in the consciousness of strong energy, of pain in the consciousness that this energj'' is in vain. But as the amount of pleasure in the sublime is greater than the amount of pain, it follows that the free energy it elicits nuist be greater than the free energy it repels. The beautiful has reference to the form of an object, and the facility with which it is comprehended. For beauty, magnitude is thus an impediment. Sub- limity, on the contrary, requires magnitude as its condition ; and the formless is not unfrequcntly sub- SIR JVILLIAM HAMtLTON^S PniLOSOPHY. 217 re- essen- n the un- ;tivity siib- — of y, of vaiu. rcater ncrgy jrgy it of an ncled. Sub- as its ly sub- lime. That we arc at once attiactccl and ropollod by sublimity, arises from me circumstance that the object, which we call ftublime, is proportioned to one of our faculties, and disproportioned to another ; but as the degree of pleasure transcends the degree of pain, the power whose energy is promoted must be superior to that power whose energy is repressed. The sublime may be divided, according to tiie three quantities, into the sublime of extension, the sublime of protension, and the sublime of intension; or, what comes to the same thing, the sublime of space, the sublime of time, and the sublime of power. In the two former the cognitive, in the last the conativc, powers come into play. («) An object is extensively or protensively sub- lime when it comprises so great a multitude of parts that the imagination sinks under the attempt to rep- resent it in an image, and the understanding to measure it by other quantities. Baftled in the attempt to reduce the object within the limits of the faculties by wiiich it must be comprehended, the mind at once desists from the ineffectual effort, and conceives the object not by a positive, but by a negative, notion ; it conceives it as inconceivable, and falls l)ack into repose, which is felt as pleasing by contrast to the continuance of a forced and impeded energy. Exam- ples of the sublime — of this sudden effort, and of this instantar.eous desisting from the attempt — arc manifested in the extensive sublime of Space, and in the protensive sublime of Eternity. (/5) An object is intensively sublime when it in- volves such a degree of force or power that the imag- i m9. ff' ! ' 'r 4 i !'. mi ^ ' ,1 218 AN OUTLINE OF ination cannot at once reprcsont, and the undcrstancl- ing cannot at once ])ring under measure, the (|uantura of this force ; and wlien, from the nature of the object, the inal)ility of the mind is at once made apparent, so that it does not proceed in the ineffectual effort, l)ut at once calls back its energies from the attempt. It is thus manifest that the feeling of the sublime Avill be one of mingled pain and pleasure ; pleasure, from the vigorous exertion and the instantaneous repose ; pain, from the consciousness of limited and frustrated activity. This mixed feeling in the con- templation of the sublime object is finely expressed by Lucretius when he says : — "Me quaedam divina voluptas Percipit atquo horror." iii. The Piduvesqiie, however opposite to the sub- lime, seems, in my opinion, to stand to the beautiful in a somewhat similar relation. An object is posi- tivel}'^ ^igly» when it is of such a form that the imagi- nation and the understanding cannot help attempting to think it up into unity, and yet their energies fail in the endeavor, or accomplish it only imperfectly after time and toil. The cause of this continuance of effort is, that the object does not present such an appearance of incongruous variety as at once to com- pel the mind to desist from the attempt of reducing it to unity ; but, on the contrar}', leads it on to attempt what it is yet unable to perform, — its reduction to a whole. But varict}^ — variety even apart from unity — is pleasing ; and if the mind be made content to Sm WILLIAM HAMILTOX'S PniLOSOmY. 219 siib- (autiful posi- exiiatinto IVcoly {iiid cisily in tliis variety, without at- tempting painfully to reduce it to unity, it will derive no inconsiderable pleasure from this exertion of its powers. Now, a picturescpie object is precisely of such 11 character. It is so determinately varied and so abrupt in its variety ; it presents so complete a ne- gation of all rounded contour, and so regular an irreg- ularity of l)rokcn lines and angles ; that every atteni[)t at reducing it to an harmonious whole is at oiico found to be impossible. The mind, therefore, which must forego the energy of representing and thinking the object as a unity, surrenders itself at once to the energies which deal with it only in detail. II. The i^ractical feelings are divisible into five classes, as they relate to (1.) our self-preservation, (2.) the enjoyment of our existence, (3.) the preser- vation of the species, (4.) our tendency toAvards de- velopment and perfection, (5.) the moral law. 1. T\\Q, feelings of seJf-jyreservadon are those of hun- ger and thirst, loathing, sorrow, bodily pain, repose, fear at danger, anxiety, shuddering, alarm, composure, security, and the nameless feeling at the representa- tion of death. Several of these feelings arc corpo- real, and may be considered, with equal propriety, as modifications of the vague sense. 2. The feelinr/s relatinrj to (lie enjoyment of existence arise from the fact that man is determined not only to exist, but to exist well ; he is therefore determined also to desire whatever tends to render life agreeable, and to eschew whatever tends to render it disagree- able. All, therefore, that appears to contribute to the former, causes in him the feeling of joy; whereas \l ] 220 Ay ovrusE of Mt, nil tluit sccins to throjitoii the latter excites in him tbo re[)ivs,s(!cl feelings of fear, Jinxiety, sorrow, etc., ■which w(! liJive Jih'cjuly nientioiied. 3. Man is cletcrinined not only to preserve him- self, l)iit to preH'vvc the spccief^ to Avhich he belongs, nntl with this tendency various feelings are associated. To this head belong the feelings of sexual love and l)arental allection. But the human afl'ections are not limitetl to family connections. "Man," says Aristotle, "is the sweetest thing to man." We have thus a ten- dency to social intercourse, and society is at once the necessary condition of our hapi)iness and of our per- fection. In conformity Avith his tendency to social existence man is endowed with a sympathetic feeling; that is, he rejoices with those that rejoice, and grieves with those that grieve. Compassion or pity is the name given to tlie latter modification of sympathy ; the former is without a definite name. Besides sym- pathetic sorrow and sympathetic joy, there are a variety of feelings which have reference to our exist- ence in a social relation. Of these there is that con- nected with vanity, or the wish to please others from the desire of being respected by them ; with shame, or the fear and sorrow at incurring their disrespect ; with pride, or the overweening sentiment of our own worth. To the saiue ulass we may refer the feelings connected with indi-^nation, resentment, anger, scorn, etc. 4. There is in man implanted a desire of develop- ing his powers, — ix tendency towards jperfect ion. In virtue of this, the consciousness of all comparative inability causes pain ; the consciousness of all com- sin WILLIAM ItAAflLTOS S r/IlLOSOIWlY. 221 'o ' scorn, parutivo jiowor cjiuscs ploasurc. To this class liclong the fceliiij^rs which accompany emulation, — the desire of rising tjupcrior to others; and envy, — the desire of reducing others beneath ourselves. 5. Wo nro conscious that there is in man a moral laWf which unconditionally connnands the fiiltilnient of its behests. Inasmuch as moral intelligence uncon- ditionally commands us to perform what we arc con- scious to be our duty, there is attributed to man an absolute worth. The feeling, which the manifesta- tion of this worth excites, is called 7-csj)ed. With the consciousness of the lofty nature of our moral tenden- cies, and our ability to fulfil what the law of duty prescribes, there is connected the feeling of seJf- respect; whereas, from a consciousness of the contrast between what we ought to do and what we actually perform, there arises the feeling of self -abasement. Thj sentiment of respect for the law of duty is the moral feeling, which has by some been improperly denominated the moral sense; for through this feeling we do not take cognizance whether anything be morally good or morally evil, but when l)y our intel- ligence we recognize aught to be of such a character, there is herewith associated a feeling of pain or pleasure, which is nothing more than our state in ref- erence to the fulfilment or violation of the law. Man, as conscious of his liberty to act and of the hiw by ■which his actions ought to be regulated, recognizes his personal accountability, and calls himself before the internal tribunal which avo denominate conscience. Here he is either acquitted or condemned. The ac- 222 AN OUTLINE OF nAMILTOX^S PHILOSOPnY. quittal is connected with a peculiar feeling of pleasur- able exultation, as the condemnation is with a peculiar feeling of painful humiliation, — remorse. {Led. on il/c^ay^., XLV. and XLVI.) Wl i)leasiir- Dcculiiir [.ed. on THIRD PART OF PHENOMENAL PSYCHOLOGY. PEENOMENOLOOT OF THE CONATIONS. THIRD PART OF PHENOMENAL PSYCHOLOGY. PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE CONATIONS. "I III Under the third class of mental phenomeua are comprehended both the phenomenon of desire and the phenomenon of volition. In English nnfortnnately WQ have no term capal)le of adequately expressing ■what is common Ijoth to volition and desire, that is, the nisiis or conatnK^ — the tendency towards the reali- zation of their end. Were we to say the phenomena of tendency, the phrase would be vague ; and the same is true of the phenomena of doing. Again, the term phenomena of appetency is o])jectionable, because (to say nothing of the unfamiliarity of the expression) appetency, though perhaps etymologically imexcep- tionable, has, both in Latin and English, a meaning almost synonymous with desire. Like the Latin appetentla, the Greek opt^'.^ is equally ill-balanced; for, though used by philosophers to comprehend both will and desire, it more familiarly suggests the latter, and Avc need not, therefore, be solicitous, with Mr. Harris and Lord Monboddo, to naturalize in English the term orectic. Again, the phrase phenomena of activity would be even worse ; every possible objection 15 225 »l r TT 226 AN OUTLINE OF can be made to the term active poicers, by which the philosophers of this country have designated the orec- tic faculties of the Aristotelians. For you will ob- serve that all faculties are equally active ; and it is not the overt performance, 1)ut the tendency towards , it, for which we are in quest of an expression. The term Conative is employed by Cudworth, and I shall adopt the word conations as the most appropriate expression for this class of phenomena. (Lect. on 3Ietajjh., XL) The conations, as tendencies to action, are divisible into classes, as such tendencies are either blind and fatal, or deliberate and free. The former are desires , the latter, volitions. (A) Desiues may be sulxlivided according to their objects, for they relate either (1.) to Self-preserva- tion, or (2.) to the Enjoyment of Existence, or (3.) to the Preservation of the Species, or (4.) to our Tendency toAvards Development and Perfection, or (5.) to the Moral Law.^ {Led. on JSLetajjli.y XLVI.) II. Will is a free cause, a cause which is not also an effect, a power of absolute origination. (Discus- sions, p. (523.) It is proved to be so, 1. Divectl/j, by an immediate testimony of con- sciousness to the fact (Lect. on Metajph.^ II. ; lieid's WorJcs, p. 624, note, and pp. 61G-7, notes) ; while ' It may lie observed that this is the classification of the desires given above (rJicnomenohnji/ of the Fcdinys, Chap. II., § 2, (B) II.) ; and it is the only classification attempted by Sir William Ham- ilton. It ought not, however, to be forgotten tliat it is suggested, not in an independent treatment of the desires, but in a description of the feelings which the desires originate. — J. C. M. sin WILLIAM nAMILTOS^S PIIlLOSOrnY. 227 con- lekVs desires 2, (B) 1 Ilam- gestcd, ription 2. Indirecthj also it is implied in our conscious- ness, at once of an uncompromisiug law of duty, and of our bein2: the accountable authors of our actions. {Led. on Metoph., II. ; Discussions, pp. 623-4.) The fact of a free volition is indeed positively in- conceivable, and that for two reasons : — 1. The Law of the Conditioned in Time, under the form of the Law of Causality, renders impossible the conception of an absolute commencement. 2. On the one hand, the determination of the will by motives can be conceived only as a necessitation which would ronclcr moral accountability impossible. On the other hand, were we to admit as true what wo cannot think as possible, still the doctrine of a motive- less volition would be only casualism ; and the free acts of an indifferent, are, morally and rationally, as worthless as the pre-ordered passions of a determined will. How, therefore, moral liberty is possible in man or in God must remain, under the present limitation of our faculties, wholly incomprehensible ; but the fact of liberty cannot be redargued on the ground of its incomprehensibilit3^ For, 1. The judgment of causalitjs which renders free w'ill inconceivable, has been proved not to de[)cud on a poicer of the mind, imposing, as necessary in thought, what is necessary in the universe of existence. Tiiis judgment is a mere mental inijwtence, — an impotence to conceive cither of two contradictories ; and as the one or the other of contradictories must be true, whilst both cannot, there is no ground for inferring a fact to be impossible merely from our inahility to conceive its I ■ V \\\ 228 AN OUTLINE OF HAMILTON'S PHILOSOPHY. possibility. At the same time, if the causal judgment be not an exi^ress affirmation of mind, but only an incapacity of thinking the opposite, it follows that such a negative judgment cannot counterbalance the express affirmative, the unconditional testimony, of consciousness, that we are, though we know not how, the true and responsible authors of our actions, not merely the worthless links in an adamantine series of causes and effects. 2. But not only may the fact of our moral liberty b .vn to be possible, though inconceivable; the TCi^ ' ejection of incomprehensibility, by which the fatalist had thought to triumph over the libertarian, may ' '> n'^^ed against himself. The scheme of freedom is noi more inconceivable than the scheme of necessity. For whilst fatalism is a recoil from the more obtrusive inconceivability of an absolute commencement, on the fact of which commencement the doctrine of liberty proceeds ; the fotalist over- looks the equal, but less obtrusive, inconceivability of an infinite non-commencement, on the assertion of which non-commencement his own doctrine of neces- sity must ultimately rest. As cquallj' unthinkable, the two counter, the two one-sided, schemes are thus theoretically balanced. But practically our conscious- ness of the moral law, which, without a moral liberty in man, would be a mendacious imperative, gives a decisive preponderance to the doctrine of freedom over the doctrine of fate. We 'are free in act, if we are accountable for our actions. (^Discussions, pp. 623-5.) V. I SECOND DIVISION OF PHILOSOPHY. NOMOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. ! NOMOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. I N0310LOGICAL Psychology, or the Nomology of IMind, is that science which investigates, not contin- gent appearances, but the necessary and universal facts, that is, the laivSy by which our faculties are governed, to the end that we may obtain a criterion by Avhich to judge or to explain their procedures and manifestations. Now, there will be as many depart- ments of Nomological Psychology as there are classes of mental phenomena ; for as each class proposes a difl'erent end, and, in the accomplishment of that end, is regulated by peculiar laws, each must consequently have a different science conversant about these laws, that is, a different Nomology. (A) First Part of Nomological Psychology: Nomology of the Cognitions. There is no one, no Nomological, science of the Cognitive faculties, in general ; though we have some older treatises which, though partial in their subject, afford a name not im- suitable for a nomology of the cognitions, — namely, Guoseologia or Guostologia. There is no indepen- dent science of the laws of Perception; if there were, it might be called Esthetic, which, however, as we shall see, would be ambiguous. Mnemonic, 281 or the m AX OVrUSE OF science of the laws of Meiiioiy, liiis been elaborated at least in nuinerons treatises ; but the name Anam- nestic, the art of llecoUectiou or Reminiscence, might be equally well applied to it. The laws of the Repre- sentative faculty, — that is, the laws of Association, — have not yet been elevated into a separate Xomolog- ical science. Neither have the conditions of the Reg- ulative or Legislative faculty, the faculty itself of Laws, been fully analyzed, far less reduced to system ; though we have several deservedly forgotten treatises, of an older date, under the inviting name of J^^oolo- ffiea. The only one of the cognitive faculties, Avhose laws constitute the object-matter of a separate science, is the Elaborativo. This Nomology has obtained the name of Logic ' among other appellations, but not from Aristotle. The best name would have been DiANOETic. Loffic is the science of the laws of thought in relation to the end which our cognitive faculties propose, — i.e., the True. To this head might be referred Grammar, — Universal Grammar, Philosophical Grammar, or the science conversant with the laws of Language, as the instrument of thought. (B) Second Part of Nojiological Psychology : Nomology of the Feelings. The Nomology of our Feelings, or the science of the laws which govern our capacities of enjoyment, in relation to the end Avhioli they propose, — i. e., the Pleasurable, — has ob- tained no precise name in our language. It has been Hi ' Sir William Hamilton has a separate course of lectures on Logic, which, however, could not, even in the most abridged form, be em- bodied in the present work. — J. C. M. sin WILLIAM nAMiLToy's rnjLosopnv. 233 Reg. )LOGY : I of our [ni our which lis ob- is been called the Philosopliy of Taste, and, on the Continent cspcciall}', it has been denominated ulOsthetic. Neither name is unobjectionable. The first is vague, meta- phorical, and even delusive. In regard to the second, you arc aware that a^ff'^irt^ in Greek meann fecliui^ in general, as well as sense in particular; as our term feelinr/ means cither the sense of touch in particular, or sentiment, — and the capacity of the pleasurable and painful in general. Both terms arc, therefore, to a certain extent, ambiguous ; but this objection can rarely be avoided, and iEsthetie, if not the best ex- pression to be found, has already been long and gen- erally employed. The term Apolaustic Avould have been a more appropriate designation. (C) TiiiiiD Part of No.^iological Psvcholooy : NoiiOLOGY OF THE CoNATioxs. Tho Nomology of our Conative powers is Practical .Philo802)hy/, properly so called ; for practical philosophy is simply tho science of the laws regulative of our will and desires in relation to the end which our conative powers pro- pose, — i. e., the Good. This, as it considers these laws in relation to man as an individual, or in relation to man as a member of society, will bo divided into two branches, — Ethics and Politics ; and these again admit of various subdivisions. {Lect. on Metaph.y VII.) Logic, I, be em- THIRD DIVISION OF PHILOSOPHY. INFERENTIAL PSYCHOLOGY. I : [ , (5 w IiNFERENTIAL PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER T. EXISTENCE IN GENERAL. In connection with the general division of the phil- osophical sciences it was stated that the third great branch of phik)sophy investigates the inferences which are to be drawn from the phenomena presented in consciousness. It is not, therefore, to bo supposed that we have an immediate knowledge of existence itself; we know it merely through the phenomena in which it is manifested. It is consequently necessary now to explain the great axiom, that all human knoicl- edge is only of (he relative and phenomenal. In this proposition the term relative is opposed to the term absolute; and therefore, in saying that we know only the relative, I virtually assert that we know nothing absolute, — nothing existing absolutely, that is, in and for itself, and without relation to us and our faculties. I shall illustrate this by its appli- cation. Our knowledge is either of matter or of mind,. I. Now, what is matter? What do wo know of 387 i i I wr^r ill 238 Ay OUTLINE OF matter? Matter or body is to us the name cither of somcthinf? Icnoum or of somethinsr iinknorcn. 1. In so far as matter is the name iov something known, it means that wliicli appears to us under the forms of extension, solidity, divisil)ility, figure, mo- tion, roughness, smoothness, color, heat, cold, etc. ; in sliort, it is a common name for a certain series or aggregate or complement of appearances or phenom- ena manifested in coexistence. 2. But as these phenomena appear only in conjunc- tion, we are compelled by the constitution of our nature to think them conjoined in and by something; and as they are plienomena, we cannot think them the phencnuena of nothing, but must regard them as the properties or qualities of something that is extended, solid, figured, etc. But this something, absolutely and in itself, — that is, considered apart from its phe- nomena, — is to us as zero. It is only in its quali- ties, only in its effects, in its relative or phenomenal existence, that it is cognizable or conceivable ; and it is only by a law of thought, which compels us to think something, absolute and unknown, as the basis or condition of the relative and known, that this some- thing obtains a kind of incomprehensible reality tons. Now, that which manifests its qualities, — in other words, that in which the appearing causes inhere, that to which they belong, — is called their subject, or sub- stance, or substratum. To this subject of the phenom- ena of extension, solidity, etc., the term matter or material substance is commonly g'.yen ; and, therefore, as contradistinguished from these qualities, it is the name of something unknown and inconceivable. SIR WILLIAM nAMILTON\s PHILOSOPHY. 239 ?foro, Is the II. The 6amo is true in regard to the term mind. 1. In so far as mind is the common name for the states of knowing, willing, feeling, desiring, etc., of which I am conscious, it is only the name for a certain series of connected phenomena or qualities, and, con- sequently, expresses only what is knoivn. 2. But in so far as it denotes that subject or substance in which the phenomena of knowing, willing, etc., inhere, — something behind or under these phenomena, — it expresses what, in itself, or in its absolute existence, \s unknown. Thus, mind and matter, as known or knowable, are only two different series of phenomena or qualities ; mind and matter, as unknown and unknowable, are the two substances in which these two different series of phenomena or qualities are supposed to inhere. The existence of an unknown substance is only an in- ference we are compelled to make from the existence of known phenomena ; and the distinction of two substances is only inferred from the seeming incom- patibility of the two series of phenomena to coinhere in one. Our whole knowledge of mind and matter is thus, as we have said, only relative ; of existence, abso- lutely and in itself, we know nothing ; and we may say of man what Virgil says of iEneas, contemplating in the prophetic sculpture of his shield the future glories of Rome, — - '* Rerumque ignarus, imagine gaudct." Thus, our knowledge is of partial and relative ex- istence only, seeing that existence in itself, or abso- 210 ^.V OUTLINE OF v. f '1 \ lute existence, is no object of knowledge . But it does not follow that all relative exist?nce is relative to us; that all that can be known even by a limited intelligence is actually cognizable by us. Wo must, therefore, mf>re precisely limit our sphere of knowl- edge, by r-lding, that all wo know is known only imder the special conditions of knowledge. Xow, this principle of the relativity of all hutnan knowledge divides itself into two branches. In the first place, it would bo unphilosophical to conclude that the properties of existence necessarily are, in number, only as the number of our faculties of appre- hending them ; or, in the second, that the properties known arc known in their native purity, and with- out addition or modification from our organs of sense, or our capacities of intelligence. I shall illustrate these in their order. I. In regard to the first assertion, it is evident that nothing exists for us, except in so far as it is known to us, and that nothing is known to us, except certain properties or modes of existence, which arc relative or analogous to our fiiculties. Beyond these modes Me know, and can assert, the reality of no existence. But if, on the one hand, we are not entitled to assert, as actually existent, except what we know ; neither, on the other, are we warranted in denying, as possi- bly existent, what we do not know. The universe may be conceived as a pcjlygon of a thousand, or a hundred thousand, sides or facets; and each of these sides or facets may be conceived as representing one special mode of existence. Now, of those thousand sides or modes, all may be equally essential, but three sin WILLIAM n A MILTON S PniLOSOmY. 241 hossi- Iverse or a ItbesG one iisand tlireo or four only may bo turned towards us, or be aualo- gous to our orpfaiis. One side or facet of the uni- verse, as holding a relation to the organ of sight, is the mode of luminous or visible existence ; another, as proportional to the organ of hearing, is the mode of sonorous or audible existence ; and so on. But if every eye to see, if every ear to hear, were annihi- lated, the mode of existence to which these organs noAv stand in relation, — that which could be seen, that which could be heard, — would still remain ; and if the intelligences, reduced to the three senses of touch, smell, and taste, were then to assert the im- possibility of any modes of being except those to which these three senses were analogous, the procedure would not be more unwarranted, than if we now ven- tured to deny the possible reality of other modes of material existence than those to the perception of wdiich our five senses are accommodated. I will illus- trate this by a hypothetical parallel. Let us suppose a block of marble, on which there are four different inscriptions, — in Greek, in Latin, in Persic, in He- brew ; and that four travellers approach, each able to read onl}'^ the inscription in his native tongue. The Greek is delighted with the information the marl)lo affords him of the siege of Troy ; the Ivotnan finds interesting matter regarding the expulsion of the Kings ; the Persian deciphers an oracle of Zoroaster, and the Jew is surprised by a commemoration of the Exodus. Here, as each inscription exists or is sig- nificant only to him who possesses the corresponding language ; so the several modes of existence are man- ifested only to those intelligences who possess the IG 242 AX OUTLINE OF if i 'M ir- corresponding organs. And as each of the four readers would bo rash, if lie maintained that the mar- ble could bo significant only as significant to him, so should we be rash, were we to hold that the universe had no other phases of being than the fcAV that arc turned towards our faculties, and which our five senses enable us to perceive. Before leaving this subject, it is perhaps proper to observe that, had we faculties equal in nimiber to all the possible modes of existence, whether of mind or matter, still would our knowledge of mind or matter be only relative. If material existence could exhibit ten thousand phenomena, and if we possessed ten thousand senses to apprehend these, of existence abso- lutely and in itself we should be then as ignorant as we are at present. II. But the consideration that our actual faculties of knowledge are probably wholly inadequate in num- ber to the possible modes of being, is of comparatively less importance than the other consideration to which we now proceed, that whatever we know is not hioivn as it is J but only as it seems to us to be; for it is of less importance that our knowledge should be limited, than that our knowledge should be pure. It is, there- fore, of the highest moment that we should be aware that what we know is not a simple relation appre- hended between the ol)ject known and the subject knowing, but that every knowledge is a sum made up of several elements, and that the great business of philosophy is to analyze and discriminate these ele- ments, and to determine from whence these contribu- tions have been derived. I shall explain what I mean I! sin iriLLr.i.M iiamilton^s p/iiLOsornY, 243 by an example. In tho perception of an external o1)ject, the mind docs not know it in immediate re- lation to itself, 1)ut mediately, in relation to the mate- rial organs of sense. If, therefore, avc were to throw these organs ont of consideration, and did not take into acconnt what they contribute to, and how they modify our knowledge of, that object, it is evident that our conclusion in regard to the nature of external perception would be erroneous. Again, an object of perception may not even stand in immediate relation to the organ of sense, l)ut may make its impression on that organ through an intervening medium. Xow, if this medium be thrown out of account, and if it be not considered that the real external object is the sinn of all that externally contributes to affect the sense, we shall, in like manner, run into error. For exam- ple, I see a book, — I see that book through an ex- ternal medium (what that medium is, we do not now inquire), — and I see it through my organ of sight, the eye. Now, as the full object presented to the mind (observe that I say the miiid), in perception, is an object compounded of (1.) the external object emitting or reflecting light, i. c, modifying the exter- nal medium, of (2.) lliis extcrjial medium, and of (3.) the living organ of sense, in their nnitual relation, let us suppose, in the example I have taken, that the full or adequate object perceived is equal to twelve, and that this amount is made up of three several parts, — of four contributed by the book, of four contributed by all that intcrvMies between the book and tho organ, and of four contributed by the living organ itself. 244 AN OUTLINE OF i M A t ':'■ If f \ ,! 1 ■ / I \ ' ■ ! 4 I use this illustration to show, that the phenome- non of the external object is not presented imme- diately to the mind, but is known by it only as modified through certain intermediate agencies ; and to show that sense itself may be a source of error, if we do not analyze and distinguish what elements, in an act of perception, belong to the outward reality, what to the outward medium, and what to the action of sense itself. But this source of error is not limited to our perceptions ; and we are liable to be deceived, not merely by not distinguishing in an act of knowl- edge what is contributed by sense, but by not dis- tinguishing what is contributed by the mind itself. This is the most difficult and important function of philosophy ; and the greater number of its higher problems arise in the attempt to determine the shares to which the knowing subject, and the object known, may pretend in the total act of cognition. For, accord- ing as we attribute a larger or a smaller proportion to each, we either run into the extremes of Idealism and Materialism, or maintain an equilibrium between the two. {Led. on Metajjh., VIII.) But although existence bo only revealed to us in phenomena, and though we can, therefore, have only a relative knowledge either of mind or of matter ; still, by inference and analogy, we may legitimately attempt to rise above the mere appearances which experience and observation afford. Thus, for example, the ex- istence of God and the Immortality of the Soul are not given us as phenomena, as objects of immediate knowledge ; yet, if the phenomena actually given do I «« wiLtiAu nAAtUTox's pniLosopnr. 245 necessarily require, for their rational explanation, the hypo heses of immoifility and of God, wo are 1 aured y entitled, from the existenee of the former to lufcr the reality of the latter. {Ibid VII ) INFERENTIAL PSYCHOLOGY. CHAPTER II. EXISTENCE OF GOD AND IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. i; *« [ ■ I The mind of man rises to its highest dignity when viewed as the object through which, and through which alone, his unassisted reason can ascend to the knowledge of a God. The Deity is not an object of immediate contempla- tion ; as existing and in himself, he is beyond our reach ; we can know him only mediately through his works, and are only warranted in assuming his exist- ence as a certain kind of cause necessary to account for a certain state of things, of whose reality our fac- ulties are supposed to infoi'ni us. The affirmation of a God being thus a regressive inference, from the existence of a special class of effects to the existence of a special character of cause, it is evident that the whole argument hinges on the fact, — Does a state of things really exist such as is only possible through the agency of a Divine Cause? For if it can be shown that such a state of things does not really exist, then 24G AX OUTLISE OF IIAMILTOS S miLOSOrilY. 247 , SOCL. y when ,hrough I to the our Intoronco to Iho kind of cjuisc requisite to account for it is necessarily null. "We must, first of all, then, consitlor what kind of cause it is which constitutes a Dcily, and Avhat kind of effects thoy are which allow us to infer that a Deity must he. The notion of a God is not contained in the notion of a mere first cause ; for in the admission of a first cause Atheist and Theist arc at one. Neither is this notion completed by adding to a first cause the attri- bute of Onmipotcncc ; for the atheist who holds mat- ter or necessity to he the original principle of all that is, does not convert his blind force into a God, by merely affirming it to be all-powerful. It is not until the two great attributes of Intelligence and Virtue (and be it observed that Virtue involves Liberty) — I say, it is not until the two attributes of intelligence aud^virtue or holiness are brought in, that the belief in a primary and onniipotent cause becomes the be- lief in a veritable Divinity. But these latter attri- butes are not more essential to the divine ntiturc than arc the former. For as original and infinite power does not of itself constitute a God, so neither is a God constituted l)y intelligence and virtue, unless intelli- gence and goodness be themselves conjoined with this original and infinite power. For even a Creator, intelligent and good and powerfid, Avould l)e no God, were he dependent for his intelligence and goodness and power on any higher principle. On this su})posi- tion, the perfections of the Creator are viewed as lim- ited and derived. He is himself, therefore, only a dependency, — only a creature ; and if a God there 218 AX nrrrrxE of H i 1)0, he nmst Ijc sou)[rlil for in tliiit Iiiirlicr pi-liicM[)lo, from wliicli this siihordiiiato pi'iiR'i[)lc ck'rives its uttri- biitoH. Now, is tliis hi^^hcst i)i'inciplo {ex JiypotJiCHe^ all-powcrriil) also iiitclJigcMit and moral ; then it is itsolf llic v{'ri(a))l(' Deity. On the otlior hand, is it, though the aiiliior (jI' intelligence and goodness in another, itself unintelligent; then is a Mind Fate con- stituted the tirst and universal cause, and atheism is asserted. The peculiar attributes "which distinguish a Deity from the original (juuiipotence or blind fate of the atheist being thus those of iiilelligcjice and holiness of will, and the assertion of theism being only the assertion that the miiverso is governed not only by physical but by moral laws, we have next to consider h(jw we are warranted in these two affirmations : (1.) that intelligence stands tirst in the absolute order of existence, in other words, that linal preceded ellicieut causes; and (2.) that the universe is governed by moral laws. The proof of these two propositions is the proof of a God ; but before considering how far the phenom- ena of mind and of matter do and do not allow us to infer the one position or the other, I must solicit your attention to the characteristic contrasts which these two classes of phenomena in themselves exhibit. In the compass of our experience, we distinguish two series of facts, — the facts of th' cxt> < ■ il or ma- terial Avorld, and the facts of .nternal world or world of intellii^ence. The ncomitant ries of phenomena are not like str> us w]'"'h merely run parallel to each other; they do not liice the Alpheus sn: iin.i.r.t.v /rtMrr'rn.\\<; p/irtnsor/ir. 219 [)()f of 'uom- \is to your llicso iii!;uisli or ma- id or •ics of y run Iplicus jvikI Aictliiisa, How on side by sUV\ without :i com- iniii'iliiiL:' ol" tlu'ir waters. TIicn- cross, ihw coinhiiio, they .'ire iiitcrlact'd ; but notwitlistandini;" tlicir inti- mate eomieetion, llioir mutual action and i-eactiou, ■wo are able to discriminate llieni without dilli- cuhy, because they are marked out by characteristic dillcrenoGS. The phenomena of the material world are subjected to imnujtabh." laws, are produced and reproduced in the .same invariable succession, and manifest only the blind force of a mechanical necessity. The phenomena of man are, in part, subjected to the laws of the external uiuverse. As dci)endent upon a bodily organization, as actuated by sensual pro- pensities and animal wants, ho belongs to matter, and, in this respect, he is the slave of necessity. But what man holds of matter docs not make up his personalitj'. They are his, not he ; man is not an organism, — ho is an ijitclligence served by organs. For in man there are tcnc know nothini? of tlio absolute Gitlor 01 existence in itself, we can only attenii)t to infer its character from that of the particular order within the sphere of our experience ; and as we can (iffirni naught of intelligence and its conditions except what we uuiy discover tVoni the observation of our own minds, it is evident that we can ouly aualogically carry out into the order of the universe the rchition iu which we find incolligence to stand in the (U-der of the human constitution. If in man intelli«..jencc be a free power, in so far as its liberty extends, iutelligeiico must be independent of necessity and matter; and a power independent of matter necessarily implies Iho existence of an immaterial subject, that is, a sj[)irit. If, then, the original independence of iutelligeiico on matter in the human constitudon, in other words, if the spirituality of mind in man, be supposed a datum of ol>servati()n, in this datum is also given both the condition and the proof of a God. For wo have only to infer, what analogy entitles us to do, that intelligence holds tlu; same relative suiireniacy in the universe which it holds in us, and the liist positive condition of a Deity is established, in the establish- ment of the absolut(! priority of a free creative intelli- gence. On the other hand, let us su[)pose the risult of our study of man to be, that intelligence is only a product of matter, only a retlex of organi/ation, such a doctrine would not only atlord no basis on which to rest any argument for a (jod, but, on thi' ci/iitrary, would positively warrant the atheist in denying his existence. For if, as the materiali.^t maintains, tho only intelligence of which we have any experience bo 252 ^.V OUTTJXE OF a consequent of matter, — on tliis lu'pothosis, he not only eannot assume this order to l)e reversed in the relations of an intelligence beyond his observation, but, if he argue logieall}', he.must positively conclude, thtit, as in man, so in the universe, the phenomena of intelligence or design arc only in their last analysis the products of a brute nccessitv. Psvcholoi^ical ma- terialisiu, if carried out fully and fairly to its conclu- sions, thus inevita1)ly results in theological atheism; us it has been well expressed by Dr. Henry More, niillus ill niicrocosnio S2)irifi(s, nuJlits i>i Dxicrocosmo Deus. I do not, of course, mean to assert that all materialists deny, or actually disbelieve, a God. For, in very many cases, this would be at once an unmer- ited com[)limcnt to their reasoning, and an unmerited reproach to their faith. II. Such is the manifest dependence of our theology on our psychology in reference to the iirst condition of a Deity, — the al)solut(; priority of a free intelli- gence. r>ut this is pei'ha])s even more conspicuous in relation to the second, f/ial the universe is (joverned not merely hy physical but by moral laws; for God is only God inasmuch as he is the ^Nloral Governor of a ]Moi-al AVorld. (Jur interest, also, in its establishment is incom- paral)Iy greater ; for while a proof that tlu' universe is the work of an onn)i[)otcnt intelligence gratities only our speeulative ein-iosity, — a proof that there is a holy legislator, by whom goodness and felicity will be ultimately brought into accordance, is necessary to satisfy both our intellect and our heart. A God is, SIR WILLIAM HAMILTOX S PfllLOSOPnY. 253 Iconi- ITSO It i ties •re is will Iry to Kl is, iiulccd, to us, only of pnicticjil interest, inrismuch as he is the condition of our inunortality. Now, it is self-evident, in the tirst place, that, if there he no moral world, there can he no moral gov- ernor of such a world ; and, in the second, that we have, and can have, no ground on which to believe in the reality of a moral world, except in so far as wo ourselves are moral agents. This being undeniable, it is fuitlicr evident, that, should we ever be con- vinced that we arc not moral agents, we should like- wise be convinced that there exists no moral order in the universe, and no supreme intelligence by Avhich that moral order is established, sustained, and regu- lated. But in what does the character of man as a moral agent consist? ]Man is a moral awnt only as ho is accountable for his actions, in other words, as he is the object of praise or l)lame ; and this ho is only in- asmuch as he has prescribed to him a rule of duty, and as he is abh; to act, or not to act, in conforniitv with its precepts. The possibility of morality thus d(>pends on the possil)ility of liberty ; for if man be not a free aL^cnt, he is not the author of his actions, and has therefore no v ';ponsibility, no moral personality, at all. Theology is thus wholly dei)endent on psychology or mental science ; and psychology ojjcrates in three ways to establish that assurance of human liberty which is necessary for a rational belief in our oAvn moral nature, in a moral world, and in a moral ruler of that world. 1. In the first place, an attentive consideration of 254 yfiV OVTLIXE OF the phenomena of mind is necessary in order to a hmiinous and distinct apprehension of liberty as a da- tum of intelligence. 2. In the second place, a profound philosoi^hy is necessary to obviate the difficulties which meet us ■when we attempt to explain the possil/ility of this fact, and to prove that the datum of liberty is not a mere illusion. For, though an unconquerable feeling compels us to recognize ourselves as accountable, and therefore free agents, still, when avc attempt to real- ize in thought how the fact of our liberty can be, we soon find that this altogether transcends our inider- standing, and that every effort to bring the fact of liberty within the compass of our conceptions only results in the sul>stitution in its place of some more or less disguised form of necessity. The tendency of a superficial philosophy is therefore to deny the fact of liberty, on the principle that what cannot be conceived is impossible. A deeper and more compreliensivo study of tlie facts of mind overturns this conclusion and destroys its foundation. It proves to us, from the very laws of mind, that, while we can never un- derstand Jiow auv original datum of intelliijenco is possible, we have no reason from this inability to doubt that it is true. 3. Tu the third place, the study of miiul is neces- sarv to counterbalance and correct the influence of the study of nititter ; and this utility of psychology rises in proportion to the progress of the natural sci- ences, and to the greater attention which thoy engross. An exclusive devotion to physical pursuits "exerts an evil inlluence in two ways. In the y(f*/'.*ns. The movement of the celestial l)odies, in which Kepler si ill saw the agency of a free intelligence, was at length by New- ton resolved into a few mathematical priiui[)les ; and at last, even the irregularities which Xewton was com- pelled to leave for tlu; miraeuloii>< correction of the Deity, have heen i)roved to reiiuire no suj)ernatural interposition; for T^a Place has slunvn that all con- tingencies, past and future, in the heavens, find their explanation in the one fundamental law of grav- itation. But the very contemplation of an order and adapta- tion so astonishing, joined to the knowledge that this order and adaptation arc the n( cessary results of a brute mechanism, when acting npop minds which have not looked into themselves for the liiiht of which the world without can onlv allord Ihem reflection, far from elevating them more than any other aspect of external creation to that inscrutable I'eing who reiirns bo3-ond and above the universe of nature, (ends, on the contrary, to impress on them, with peculiar force, the conviction, that as the mechanism of nature can explain so much, the mechanism of nature can ex- plain all. Should phvsioloirv ever succeed in reducinir the facts of intelligence to phenomena of matter, philoso- phy would be subverted in the subversion of its three great objects, God, Fkee-Will, and iMiionTALiTT. sin iniT.IAM HAMILTOX'S PlIILOSOPIIY. 2bl the loso- Ihi-eo LlTY. True wLsdom would then consist, not in speculation, but in i'ci)iH>*?ini:' thou/jflit during our brief transit from nothingness to nothingness. Forwiiy? Philosophy ■would have beeonio a meditation, not merely of death, but of annihilation : the precept, Jvnow fhyxdf, would have been replaced by the terrible oraclo to CKdi- pus : — " May'st Ihou ncvci know the truth of what thou art; " and the final recompense of our scientilic curiosity would be wailing, deeper than Cassandra's, for the ignorance that saved us from despair. {Led. on JMetcqj/i., 11.) far It of iijns , on irce, can ex- FINIS. n