,%. ^>. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) & 1.0 I.I 1.25 IjU 12.8 |50 '""^ ^ 1^ 1.4 M [2.0 1= 1.6 Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. MS80 (716) 873-4503 €3 ,-\ iV -fv 6^ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microraproductions Institut Canadian da microreproductions historiquas 1980 Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibiiographiques The Inatltute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibL^ographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. n D D Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur I I Covers damaged/ Couverture endommagAe Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurie lat/ou pelliculAe Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque Coloured maps/ Cartes giographlques en couleur Coloured Ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations an couleur Bound with other material/ Reli6 avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ La reliure serr^e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge int6rieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ 11 se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout^es lors d'une restauratlon apparaiss«nt dans le texte. mais, iorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6tA fHm6es. Additional comments:/ Commentaires suppi6mentaires: L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exempiaire qu'il iui a «t« possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exempiaire qui sont peut-Atre uniques du point de vue bibliographique. qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite. ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la mithode normale de filmage sont indiquAs ci-dessous. I I Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur Pages damaged/ Pages endommag6es Pages restored and/oi Pages restaurAes et/ou pellicul6es Pages discoloured, stained or foxe( Pages dicolor^es. tachet^es ou piquies I I Pages damaged/ I I Pages restored and/or laminated/ I I Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ □ Pages detached/ Pages ddtachies r~X Showthrough/ U— J Transparence I I Quality of print varies/ Quality inigaie de I'impression includes supplementary material/ Comprend du matiriei supplimentaire Only edition available/ Seulfl Edition disponibie D Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc.. have been ref limed to ensure the best possible image/ |.es pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata. une pelure, etc.. ont M film6es A nouveau de fapon A obtenir la meiileure image possible. QThis item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est f limA au taux de reduction indiqu4 ci-dessous. IPX 14X 18X 22X I m I I I I m i I I I r 2BX 30X 12X 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X The copy filmed here hes been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: National Library of Canada L'exempiaire filmA fut reproduit grAce A la g^nirositi de: BibliothAque nationale du Canada The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impies- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. , The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol -'^- (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol y (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames is required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les images suivantes ont *t* reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition at de la nettet6 de I'exemplaire film*, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est imprimte sont filmte en commen^ant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la dernlAre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, salon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmte en commenpant par la premiere page qui comporte unb empreinte d'impression ou d'illustratic:> et en terminant par la derniire page qui comporte empreinte. Un des symboles sulvants apparattra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbols — ► signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbols y signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre filmte d d«s taux de rMuction diffArents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seul clichA, il est filmA A pM>tir de I'angle supArieur gauche, de gauche A dr jite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes sulvants lllustrent la mAthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ■HHI CHAPTERS IN LOGIC. CHAPTERS IN LOGIC ; CONTaTNINO SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON'S LECTURES ON MODIFIED LOGIC, AND 8EIiECriON« PKOM THE PORT ROYAL LOGIC. WITH PREFACE BT THK REV. S. S. NELLES, D.D„ Profissor of Logic in Victoria Colltge. TORONTO : THE WESLBYAN METHODIST BOOK-ROOM, 88, KINO STREET EAST. 1870. ■HII Ii If 13 PREFACE. This little volume is a repriiit of Sir ^Villiam Hamilton's Lectwrea on Modified Logic, and of the most -valuable portions of the famous Port Royal Logic, translated by T. S. Baynes. The design of the publication is to provide, in cheap and convenient form, a Manual or Text-Book, on what Hamilton calls " Modified or Concrete Logic," but -what others have variously designated as Applied or Practical Logic. Whatever may be thought of the propriety of including this department of study within the science of Logic, there can be no doubt of its very great importance, and jutt as little doubt of its having been sadly neglected. Those who have not mastered the elements of formal or technical Logic, as well as those who have, may derive immense advantage from a careful perusal of these pages. The merits of Sir William Hamilton are so well fenown, that it is perhaps unnecessary here to say anything in t!ommendation of that part of the volume which was written by him. It may, however, be well to mention, MiLJIMi VI PREFACE. that his Lectures on Modified Logic are here given in full, without alteration either of the arrangement or the text. From the nature of their topics, they form a distinct discussion in themselves, and suffer nothing in being separated from the other lectures in which the eminent author has so ably ti-eated of the formal laws of thought. The other work, — the Port Jcioyal Logic, — is less gener- ally known, but is regarded by high authorities as one of the very best of the many books extant on the science of Logic. " The treatise," says Mr. Baynes, " is characterised throughout by a vigor of *uought, a vivacity of criticism, a freshness and variety of illustration, an honesty and love of truth, and withal a human sympathy, which rendered it a work not only of specific scientific value, but of general interest and instruction. Logic was thus redeemed from the contempt into which it had fallen, and placed on a level with the advancing philosophy of the time." To this may be added the testimony of Baron de Oerando, as cited by Mr. Baynes. Speaking of the parts which especially merit praise, he says, — " Above all, that beautiful Dissertation on the Origin of Prejudices, and their in- fluence on the vices of reasoning in civil life. This Disser- tation, indeed, constitutes, of itself, an entirely new Logic — one almost sufficient, and far more important than all the apparatus of the peripatetic Logic; and it must be recorded to the praise of the Port Royal writers that this is a part of their work which is peculiarly their own." PREFACE. VU Dugald Stewart, also, in his Dissertation on *he Progress of Philosophy, s{)eakB of the Port Royal Logic as " a treatise of which it is hardly possible to estimate the merits too highly." And again : — " No publication cer- tainly, prior to Lockers Essay, can be named, containing so much good sense and so little nonsense on the science of Logic ; and very few have since appeared on the same subject which can be justly preferred to it in point of practical utility. If the author had lived in the present age, or had been less fettered by a prudent regard to exist- ing prejudices, the technical part would probably have been reduced within a still narrower compass ; but even there he has contrived to substitute, for the puerile and contemptible examples of common logicians, several in- teresting illustrations from the physical discoveries of his immediate predecessors ; and has indulged himself in some short excursions, which excite a lively regret that he has not more frequently and freely given scope to his original reflections. Among these excursions, the most valuable, in my opinion, i« tJie Twentieth Chapter of the Third Pa/rt, which deserves the attention of every logical student, as an important and instructive supplement to the enumera- tion of sophisms given by Aristotle." The Editor of this compilation has confined his selections from the Port Royal Logic to this " twentieth chapter," which is given entire (with the exception of a few lines), and to those portions of the Preliminary Discourse which TIU PREFACK. are of general application. These selections make' a suitable iuti*oduction to the Lectures of Hamilton on Modijle' Logic, and the two together furnish 'about the best instruc- tion that can be had on this ira|x>rtant branch of the science of Logic. We live in times remarkable for the awakening and emancipation of thought. This is matter of rejoicing ; but freedom of thought biings corresponding dangers and responsibilities, and we cannot do too much to aid the inquiring multitudes in the proper use of that right of private judgment of which we are so justly proud. Works like the one here presented may serve to show that all intellectual activity has its laws, the violation of which brings invariable and heavy penalties; may teach us to beware of the immoralities of the intellect ; may put those who are trying to think, in the way of thinking soundly, by furnishing them with the best rules and cautions known to the world's great thinkers ; and may help u^ forward to that "good time coming," when in moral, political, and i-eligious affairs, men shall proceed with something like the steadiness, precision, and certainty, which have already begun to mark the pursuit of mathematical and physical science. Victoria Collbob, March Slat, 1870. •mN THE PORT-ROYAL LOGIO CHAPTER I. r rRXLIMINA^Y— IK WHICH THS SXSIOIT OV THIS SMW LOOIO IS 8KT F0R1H. There is nothing more desirable than good sense, and ac- curacy of thought, in discriminating between truth and falsehood. All other qualities of mind are of limited use ; but exactness of judgment is of general utility in every part, and in all the employments of life. It is not alone in the sciences that it is difficult to distinguish truth from error, but also in the greater part of those subjects which men discuss in their every-day affairs. There are, in relation to almost everything, diff^n^nt routes — the one true, tno other false — and it is reason which must choose between them. Those who choose well, are they who have minds well- regulated ; those who choose ill, are those who have minds ill-regulated : and this is the first and most important differ- ence which we find between the qualities of men's minds. Thus the main object of our attention should be, to form oiu- judgment, and render it as exact as possible ; and to this end, the greater part of our study ou^ht to tend. Wo 3 i 41 PRELIHIMABT. i I ■| [ If' employ reason as an instrument for acquiring the sciences ; -whereas, on the contrary, we ought to avail ourselves of the sciences as an instrument for perfecting- our reason — ^justness of mind being infinitely more import.*uit than all the specu- lative knowledges which we can obtain, by means of sciences the most solid and well-established. This ought to lead wise men to engage in these only so far as they may contribute to that end, and to make them the eicercise only, and not the occupation, of their mental powers. If we have not this end in view, the study of the specu- lative science — such as geometry, astronomy, and physics — will be little else than a vain amusement, and scarcely better than the ignorance of these things, which has at least this advantage — that it is less laborious^ and affords no room for that empty vanity which is often found connected with these barren and unprofitable knowledges. . These sciences not only have nooks and hidden places of very little use ; they are even totally useless, considered in theniGolves, and for themselves alone. Men are not born to employ their time in measuring lines, in examining the relations of angles, and considering the different movement of matter ; their m nda are too great, their life too short, their time too precious, to be engrossed with such petty objects : but they ought to be Just, equitable, prudent, in all their converse, in all their actions, and in all the business they transact ; and to these things they ought specially to discipline and train themselve£. This care and study are so very neccessary, that it is strange that this exactness of judgment should be so rare a quality. We find, on every side, ill-regulated minds which have scarcely any discernment of the truth ; men who receive all things with a wrong bias ; who allow themselves to be carried away by the slightest appearances 3 who are always PBBLIMINABT. 8 in excess and extremes ; who have no bond to hold them firm to the truths which they know, since they are attached to them Wither by chance than by any clear insight ; or who, on the other hand, entrench themselves in their opin- ions with such obstinacy, that they will not listen to any. thiiig that may undeceive them ; who determine rashly about that of which they are ignoi-ant, which they do not under- stand, and which, peihaps, no one ever can understand ; who make no difference between one speech and another, or judge of the truth of things by the tone of voice alone, — he who speaks fluently and impressively being in the right, he who has some difficulty in explaining himself, or dis- plays some warmth, in the wrong : they know nothing beyond this. Hence it is, that there are no absurdities too groundless to find supporters. . "Whoever determines to deceive the world, may be sure of finding people who are willing enough to be deceived; and the most absurd follies always find minds to which they are adapted. After seeing what a number are infatuated with the follies of judicial astrology, and that even grave persons treat this subject seriously, we need not be surprised at anything more. There is a con- stellation in the heavens which it has pleased certain persons to call the Balance, and which is aij much like a balance as a windmill. The Balance is the symbol of justice ; those^ therefore, that are born under that constellation, will be just and equitable. There are three other Higns in the zodiac, which are called, one the Tlam, another the Bull, another the Goat, and which might as well have been called the Elephant, the Crocodile, and the Rhinoceros. The Kam, the Bull, and the Goat, are ruminant animals ; those, therefore, who take medicines when the moon is under f PBBLIHINABY. these oonstellations, are in danger of vomiting them again. Such extravagant reasonings as these have found persons to propagate them, and others who allow themselves to be persuaded by them. This inaccuracy of thought is the cause, not only of the errors we meet with in the sciences, but also the majority of the offences which are committed in civil life, — of unjust quarrels, unfounded lawsuits, rash counsel, and ill-arranged undertakings. Thei-e are few of these which have not their origin in some error, and in some fault of judgment, so that there is no defect which it more concerns us to correct. But this correction is as difficult of accomplishment as it is desirable, since it depends very much on the measure of in. telligence with which we are endowed. Common-sense is nob so common a quality as we imagine. There are a multitude of minds heavy and dull, which we cannot reform by giving them the understanding of the truth, but only by restricting them to those things which are suited to them, by withholding them from judging about those things which they are not capable of knowing. It is true, nevertheless, that a great part of the false judgment of men does not spring from this prinniplo, but is caused solely by preci- pitancy of mind and want of attention, which lead us to judge rashly about that which we know only obscurely and confusedly. The little love men have for truth leads them to take no pains, for the most part, in distinguishing what is true from what is false. They allow all sorts of reasoniigs and maxims to enter their minds; they like better tv> suppose things true, than to examine them; if they do not comprehend them, they are willing to believe that others understand them well : and thus they fill the memory with a mass of things false, obscure, and unintelli- ^ PRELIM IN AKT. s gible, and then reason on these principles, scarcely consider- ing at all either what they speak or what they think. Vanity and presumption contribute still more to this effect. We think it a disgrace to doubt, and to be ignorant ; and we prefer rather to speak and determine at random, than to confess that we are not sufficiently informed on the subject to give an opinion. We are all of us full of ignorance and errors ; and yet it is the most diflBcult thing in the world to obtain from the lips of man this confession, so just, and so suited to his natural state, — I am in error, and I know nothing about the matter. We find others, on the contrary, who, having light enough to know that there are a number of things obscure and un- certain, and wishing, from another kind of vanity, to show that they are not led away by the popular credulity, take a pride in maintadning that there is nothing certain. They thus free themselves from the labour of examination, and on this evil principle they bring into doubt the most firmly established truths, and even religion itself. This is the source of Pyrrhonism [or Scepticism], another extravagance of the human mind which, though apparently opposed to the rashness of those who believe and decide everything, springs ne^^ertheless from the same source, which is, want of attention. For as the one will not give themselves the trouble of discerning errors, the others will not look upon truth with that care which is necessary to perceive its evi- dence. The faintest glimmer suffices to persuade the one of things very false, and to make the other doubt of things the most certain ; and in both cases it is the same want of application which produces effects so different. True reason places all things in the I'unk which belongs to thero ; it questions those which are doubtful, rejects those H 9 PRELIMINART. ' which are false, and acknowledges, in good fait'., those which are evident, without being embarrassed by the 'ain reasons of the Pyrrhonists, which never could, even in the minds of those who proposed them, destroy the reasonable assurance we have of many things. Kone ever seriously doubted the existence of the sun, the earth, the moon, or that the whole was greater than its parts. We may indeed easily say out- wardly with the lips that we doubt of all these things, because it is possible for us to lie ; but we cannot say this in our hearts. Thus Pyrrhonism is not a sect composed of men who are persuaded of 'what they say, but a sect of liars. Hence they ofte\. contradict themselves in uttering their opinion, since it is impossible for their hearts to agree with their language. We see this in Montaigne, who attempted to revive this sect in the last century ; for, after having said that the Academics were different from the Pyrrhonists, inasmuch as the Academics maintained that some things were more probable than others, which the Pyrrhonists would not allow, he declares himself on the side of the Pyrrhonists in the following terms : " The opinion," says he, " of the Pyrrhonists is bolder, and much more probable." There are, therefore, some things which are more probable than others. Nor was it for the sake of effect that he spoke thus : these are words which escaped him without thinking of them, springing from the depths of nature which no illusion of opinions can destroy. But the evil is, that in relation to those things which are more removed from sense, these persons, who take a pleasure in doubting everything, withhold their mind from any application, or apply it onlj imperfectly to that which might persuade them, and thus fall into a voluntary uncertainty in relation to the affairs of religion ; for the state of darkness into which they have PBELIMINARY. brought themselves is agreeable to thera, and very favourable for allaying the remorse of their conscience, and for the un- restrained indulgence of their passions. Thus, these dis- orders of the mind, though apparently opposed (the one leading to the inconsiderate belief of what is obscure and uncertain, the other to the doubting of what is clear and certain), have nevertheless a common ori//in, which is, the neglect cf that attention which is necessary in order to discover the truth. It is clear, therefore, tliat they must also have a common remedy, and that the only way in which we can preserve ourselves from them is by fixing minute attention on our judgments and thoughts. This is the only thing that io absolutely necessary to preserve us from deceptions. For that which the Academics were wont to say, — ^that it was impossible to discover the truth unless we had its characters, as it would be impossible to identify a runaway slave we might be in search of, unless we had some dgns by which, supposing we were to meet him, we could distiuguish him from others, — ^is only a vain subtlety. As no marks are necessary in order to distinguish light from darkness but the light which reveals itself, so nothing else is necessary in order to recognize the truth but the very brightness which environs it, and which subdues and per- suades the mind, notwithstanding all that may be said against it ; so that all the reasonings of these philosophers are no more able to withhold the mind from yielding to the truth, when it is strongly imbued with it, than they are capable of preventing the eyes from seeing, when, being open, they are assailed by the light of the sun. But since the mind often allows itself to be deceived by false appearances in consequence of not giving due attention to them, and since there are many things which cannot be n f- - — 8 PBEUMIKABT. known, save by long and difficult examination, it would certainly be useful to have some rules tor its guidance, so that the search after truth might be more easy and certain. Nor is it impossible to secure such rules : for since men are 8(unetimes deceived in their judgments, and at other times are not deceived, as they reason sometimes well and some- times ill, and as, after they have reasoned ill, they are able to perceive their error, they may thus notice, by reflecting on their thoughts, what method they have followed when they have reasoned well, and what was the cause of their error when they were deceived ; and thus on these reflections form rules by which they may avoid being deceived for the future. This is what philosophers have specially undertaken to accomplish, and in relation to which they make such magni- ficent promises. If we may believe them, they will furnish us, in that part which is devoted to that purpose, and which they call lo^y with a light capable of dispelling all the darkness of the mind;- they correct all the errors of our thoughts ; and they give us rules so sure that they conduct us infallibly to the truth, — so necessary, that without them it is impossible to know anything with complete certainty. These are the praises which they have themselves bestowed on their precepts. But if we consider what experience shows us of the use which these philosophers make of them^ both in logic and in other parts of philosophy, we shall have good grounds to suspect the truth of their promises. Since it is not, however, just to reject absolutely the good there is in logic because of the abuse which has been made of it, and as it is not possible that all the great minds which have applied themselves with so much care to the rules of reasoning, have discovered nothing at all solid ; and finally, PRELIM IKABT. 9 since custom has rendered it necessary to know (at least generally) what logic is, we believed that it would contribute something to public utility to select from the common logics whatever might best help towards forming the judgment. This is the end we specially propose to ourselves in this work ; with the view of accomplishing which, we have inserted many new reflections which have suggested them- selves to our mind while writing it, and which form the greatest and perhaps the most important pari; of it, for it appears the common philosophers have attempted to do little more than to give the rules of good and bad reasoning. Now, although we cannot say these rules are useless, since they often help to discover the vice of certain intricate arguments, and to arrange our thoughts in a more convincing manner, still this utility must not be supposed to extend very far. The greater part of the errors of men arise, not from their allowing themselves to be deceived by wrong cdbclusions, but in their proceeding from false judgments, whence wrong conclusions are deduced. Those who have previously written on logic have little sought to rectify this, which is the main design of the new reflections which are to be found scattered through this book. These, in brief, are the views we have had in writing this Logic. Perhaps, after all there are few persons who will profit by it, or be conscious of the good they have obtained, because but little attention is commonly given to putting precepts in practice by express reflections on them. But we hope, nevertheless, that those who have read it with some care may receive an impression which will render them more exact and solid in their judgments, even without their being conscious of the good, as there are some remedies 10 PBBLIMINAIl' whioli cure diseases by increasing ihe vigour and fortifying the parts. Be this as it may, it cannot trouble any one long, — oinoe those who are a little advanced may read and understand it in seven or eight days ; and it will be strange if, containing so great a diversity of things, each does not find something to repay him for the trouble of a perusal. « • » CHAPTER II. OF THE BAB REASONINGS WHICH ARE COMMON IN OIVIL LIVB AND IN ORDINARY DISCOUTtSK. We have seen some examples of the faults which are most common in reasoning on scientific subjects ; but since the principal use of reason is not in relation to those kinds of subjects which enter but little into the conduct of life, and in which there is much less danger of being deceived, it would, without doubt, be much more useful to consider generally what betrays men into the false judgments which they make on every kind of subject, — especially on that of morals, and of other things which are important in civil lite, and which constitute the ordinary subject of their con- versation. But, inasmuch as this design would require a separate work, which would comprehend almost all the whole of morals, we shall content ourselves with indicating here, in general, some of the causes of those false judgments which are so common amongst men. "We do not stay to distinguish false judgments from bad reasonings, and shall inquire indifferently intMMON IN CIVIL UFE. the motive and principle of that judgment. For example, when we judge that a stick which appears bent in the water is really bo, this judgment is founded on that general and false proposition, that what appears bent to our senses is so really, and thus contpins an undeveloped reasoning. In oonsidering them generally, the causes of our errors appear to be reducible to two principles : the one internal — the irregvlarity of the wUly which troubles a/nd disorders the judgment ; the other external, which lies in the objects of which we judge, and which deceive our minds by false appearcmces. Now although these causes almost always Appear united together, there are nevertheless certain errors, in which one prevails more than the other j and hence we shall treat of them separately. 07 TEU SOPHISMS OV SELT-LOVB, OV INTXBBST, ASD OV FASSIOK. I. If we examine with care what commonly attaches men rather to one opinion than to another, we shall ^d that it is not a conviction of the truth, and the force of the rea- sons, but some bond of self-love, of interest, or of passion. This is the weight which bears down the scale, and which decides us in the greater part of our doubts. It is this which gives the greatest impetus to our judgm^ts, and which holds us to them most forcibly. We judgo of things, piot by what they are in themselves, but by what they are in relation to us, sind truth and utility are to us but one kad the same thing. No other proofs are needed tha^ thos^ which we see every day, to show that the things which are held everywhere else as doubtful, or even as false, are considered most certain SELF LOy£ — INTEREST— PASSIONS. 18 hy all of some one nation,' or profession, or institution. For, since it cannot be that what is true in Spain tthould be false in France, nor that the minds of all Spaniards are so differently constituted from those of Frenchmen, as that, judging by the some rules of reasoning, that which appears generally true to the one should appear generally false to the others, it is* plain that this diversity of judgment can arise from no other cause except that the one choose to hold as true that which is to their advantage j and that the others, having no interest at stake, judge of it in a different way. Nevertheless, what can be more unreasonable than to take our interest as the emotive for believing a thing 1 All that it can do, at most, is to lead us to consider with more atten- tion the reasons which may enable us to discover the truth of that which we wish to be true ; but it is only the truth which must be found in the thing itself, independently of our desires, which ought to convince us. I am of such a country ; therefore I must believe that such a saint preached the gospel there. I am of such an order ; therefore I must believe that such a privilege is right. These are no reasons. Of whatever order, and of whatever country you may be, you ought to believe only what is true ; and what you would have been disposed to believe, though you had been of another country, of another ord^, and of another profession. II. But this illusion is much more evident when any change takes place in the passions ; for, though all things remain in their place, it appears, nevertheleaa, to those who are moved by some new passion, that the change which has taken place in their own heart alone has changed all external things which have any relation to them. How often do we see 14 SOPHISMS COMMON IN CITIL LIFE. persons who are able to recognize no good quality, either natural or acquired, in those against whom they liave con- ceived an aversion, or who have been opposed in something to their feelings, desii'es, and interests ! This is enough to render them at once, in their estimation, rash, proud, ignorant, without faith, without honour, and without con- science. Their affections and desires are not any more just or moderate than their hatred. If they love any one, he is free from ev^ry kind of defect. Everything which they desire is just and easy, everything which they do not desire is unjust and impossible, without their being able to assign any other reason for all these judgm^ts than the passion itself which possesses them ; so that, though they do not expressly realize to their mind this reasoning : I love him ; therefore, he is the cleverest man in the world : I hate him ; therefore, he is nobody ; — they realize it to a great extent in their hearts ; and therefore, we may call sophisms and delusions of the heart those kinds of errors which consist in transferring our pa'tsion to the objects of our passions, and in judging that they are v^hat we will or desire that they should be ; which is without doubt very unreasonable, since our desires can effect no change in the existence of that which a without us, and since it is God alone whose will is efficacious enough to render all things what he would have them to be. m. "We may reduce to the same illusion of self-love that of those who decide everything by a very general and con- venient principle, which is, that they are right, that they know the truth ; from which it is not difficult to infer that those who are not of their opinion are deoeived^^-in fact^^ the conclusion is necessary. BBLF-LOYE — INTEKEST — PA88 IONS. 15 The error of these persons springs solely from this, that the good opinion which they have of their own insight leads them to consider all their thoughts as so clear and evident, that they imagine the wliole world must accept them as sooi^ as they are known. Hence it is that they so rarely trouble themselves to furnish proofs,- -they seldom listen to the opinions of others, they wish all to yield to their authority, since they never distinguish their authority from reason. They treat with contempt all those who are not of their opinion, without considering that if others are not of their opinion, so neither are tht»y of the opinion of others, and that it is unjust to assume, without proof, that we are in the right when we attempt to convince others, who are not of our opinion, simply because they are per- suaded that we are not in the right. rv. There are some, again, who have no other groun'' for rejecting certain opinions than this amusing reasoning : — If this were so, I should not be a clever man ; now, I am a clever man ; therefore, it is not so. This is the main reason which, for a long time, led to the rejection of some most useful remedies, and most certain discoveries ; for those who had not kndwn them previously fancied that, by admitting them, they would have confessed themselves to have been hitherto deceived. " What," said they, " if the blood circulate ; if the food is not carried to the liver by the mesaraic veins ; if the venous artery carry the blood to the heart; if the blood rise by the descending hollow vein ; if nature does not abhor a vacuum ; if the air be heavy and have a movement below, — I have been ignorant of many important things in anatomy and in physics. 16 SOPHISMS COMMON IN CIVIL LIFE. these things, therefore, cannot be." But, to remedy this folly, it is only necessary to represent fully to such, that there is very little discredit in being mistaken, and that they may be accomplished in other things, though they be not in those which have been recently discovered. i i !«Mii' V. There is, again, nothing more common than to see people mutually casting on each other the same reproaches, and accusing one another — for example, of obstinacy, passion, and chicanery — when they are of different opinions. There are scarcely any advocates who do not accuse each other of delaying the process, and concealing the ^iruth by artifice^ of speech ; and thus those who are in the Fight, and those who are in the wrong, with almost the same language make the same complaints, and attribute to each other the same vices. This is one of the most injurious things possible in the life of men, for it throws truth and error, justice and injustice, into an obscurity so profound, that the world, in general, cannot distinguish between them ; and hence it hap- pens, that many attach themsoives, by chance and without knowledge, to one of these parties, and that others condemn both as being equally wrong. All this confusion springs, again, from the same malady which leads each one to take, as a principle, that he is in the right ; for from this it is not difficult to infer, that all who oppose us are obstinate, since to be obstinate is not to submit ta the right. But still, although it be true that these reproaches of passion, of blindness, and of quibbling, which are very un- just on the part of those who are mistaken, are just and right on the part of those who are not so; nevertheless, SELF-LOVE — INTEREST — PASSIONS. 17 since they assume that truth is on the side of him who makes them, wise and thoughtful persons, who treat of any contested matter, should avoid using them, before they ha>d thoroughly established the truth and justice of the cause which they maintain. They will never then accuse their adversaries of obstinacy, of rashness, of wanting com- mon sense, before they have clearly proved this. They will not say, before they have shown it, that they fail into intolerable absurdities and extravagances ; for the others, on their side, will say the same of them, and thus accom- plish nclihing. And thus they will prefer rather to observe that most equitable rule of St. Augustine : — Omittamus ista communia, guce did ex utraque parte possunt, licet vere diet ex utraque parte non possirU. They will thus be content to defend truth by the weapons which are her own, and which falsehood cannot borrow. These are clear and weighty reasons. VI. The Liind of man is not only in love with itself, but it is also naturally jealous, envious of and ill-dispOsed towards others. It can scarcely bear that they should have any ad- vantage, but desires it all for itself ; and as it is an advan> tage to know the truth, and furnish men with new views, a secret desire arises to rob those who do this of the glory, which often leads men to combat, without reason, the opinions and inventions of others. Thus, as self-love often leads us to make these ridiculous reasonings : It is an opinion which I discovered, it is that of my order, it is an opinion which is convenient ; it is, therefore, true ; natural iJ.i-will leads us often to make these others, which ai*e equally alsuixl ; Some one else said such 13 SOPHISMS COMMON IN CIVIL LIFE. I '' a thing ; it is, therefore, false : I did not write that book ; it is, therefore, a bad one. This is the source of the spirit of contradiotion so com- mon amongst men, and which leads them, when they hear or read anything of another, to pay but little attention to the reasons which might have persuaded them, and to think only of those which they think may be offered against it ; they are always on their guard against truth, and think only of the means by which it may be repressed and obscured — in which they are almost invariably successful, the fertility of the human mind in false reasons being inexhaustible. When this vice is in excess, it constitutes one of the lead- ing characteristics of the spirit of pedantry, which finds its gieatest pleasure in quibbling with others on the pettiest things, and in contradicting everything with a pure ma- lignity. But it is often more imperceptible and concealed ; and we may say, indeed, that no one is altogether free from it, since it has its root in self-love, which always lives in men. The knowledge of this malignant and envious disposition, which dwells deep in the heart of men, shows us that one of the most important rules which we can observe, in order to win those to whom we speak from error, and bring them over to the truth of which we would persuade them, is to excite their envy and jealousy as little as possible by speak- ing of ourselves, and the things which concern us. For, since men love scarcely any but themselves, they cannot bear that another should intrude himself upon them, and thus tlirow into shade the main object of their regard. All that does not refer to themselves is odious and imper- tinent, and they commonly pass from the hatred of the man to the hatred of his opinions and reasons. Hence, wise persons avoid as much as possible revealing to others the SELF-LOVE— I VTEBEST — PASSIONS. 19 book advantages which they have ; they avoid attracting atten- tion to themselves in particular ; and seek rather, by hiding themselves in the crowd, to escape observation, in order that the truth which they propose may be seen alone in their discourse. The late M. Pascal, who knew as much of true rhetoric as any one ever did, carried this rule so far as to maintain that a well-bred man ought to avoid mentioning himself, and even to avoid using the words / and me ; and he was accus- tomed to say, on this p ^>ject, that Christian piety aAiihilated the human me, and i human civility concealed and sup- pressed it. This rule, however, is not to be observed too rigidly, for there are many occasions on which it would use- lessly embarrass us to avoid these words ; but it is always good to keep it in view, in order to preserve us from the wretched custom of some individuals, who speak only of themselves, and who quote themselves continually, when their opinion is not asked for. This leads those who hear them to suspect that this constant recurrence to themselves arises only from a secret pleasure, which leads them contin- ually to that object of their love, and thus excites in them, by a natural consequence, a secret aversion to these people, and towards all that they say. This shows us that one of the characteristics most unworthy of a sensible man is that which Montaigne has affected in entertaining his readers with all his humours, his inclinations, his fancies, his mala- dies, his virtues, and his vices, which could arise only from « a weakness of judgment, as well as a violent love for him- self. It is true that he attempted, as far as possible, to re- move from himself the suspicion of a low and vulgar vanity, by speaking freely of his defects, as well as of his good qualities, which has something amiable in it, from the appear^ 20 SOPHISMS COMMON IN CIVIL LIFE. ance of sincerity ; but it is easy to see that all this is only a trick and artifice ; which should only render it still more odious. He speaks of his vices in order that they may be known, not that they may be detested ; he does not think for a moment that he ought to be held in less esteem ; he regards them as things very indifferent, and rather as creditable than disgraceful ; if he reveals them it gives him no concern, and he believes that he will not be, on that account, at all more vile or contemptible. But when he apprehends that anyt&ing will degrade him at all, he is as careful as any one to conceal it ; hence, a celebrated author of the present day pleasantly remarks, that though he takes great pains, without any occassion, to inform us, in two places of his book, that he had a page, (an officer of very little use in the house of a gentleman of six thousand livres a-year) he has not taken the same pains to inform us that he had also a clerk, having been himself counsellor of the parliament of Bordeaux. This employment, though very honourable in itself, did not satisfy the vanity he had of appearing always with the air of a gentleman and of a cavalier, and as one unconnected with the bri^ and gown. It is nevertheless probable, however, that he would not have concealed thia circumstance of his life if he could have found some Marshal of France who had been coun- sellor of Bordeaux, as he has chosen to inform us that he had been mayor of that town, but only, after having in- formed us that he had succeeded Marshal De Biron in that office, and had been succeede'd by Marshal De Matignon. But the greatest vice of this author is not that of vanity, for he is filled with such a multitude of shameful scandals, and of epicurean and impious maxims, that it is wonder- ful that he has been endured so long by everybody, and SELP-LOVB— INTEREST — PASSIONS. 21 that there are eVen men of mind who have not discovered the poison. No other proofs are necessary, in order to judge of his libertinism, than that very manner even in which ke speaks of his vices ; for allowing, in many places, that he had been guilty of a great number of criminal excesses, he declares, nevertheless, that he did not repent of them at all, and that if he had to live over again he would live as he had dond. " As for me," says he, " 1 cannot desire in general to be other than I am. I cannot condemn my universal form, though I may be displeased with it, and pray God for my entire reformation, and for the pardon of my natural weak- ness ; but this I ought not to call repentance any more than the dissatisfaction I may feel at not being an angel, or Cato; my actions are regulated and conformed to my state and condition ; I cannot be better, and repentance does not properly refer to things which are not in our power. I never expected incongruously to affix the tail of a philoso- pher to the head and hodj of an abandoned man, or that the meagre extremity of my life was to disavow and deny the most beautiful, complete, and largest portion of the whole. If I had to live over again I would live as I have done ; I do not lament over the past ; I do not fear for the future." Awful words, which denote the entire extinction of all religious feeling, but which are worthy of him who said also, in another place : " I plunge myself headlong blindly into death, as into a dark and silent abyss, full of a mighty sleep, full of unconsciousness and lethargy, which engulphs me at once, and overwhelms me in a moment." And in another place : " Death, which is only a quarter of an hour's passion, without consequence, and without injury, does not deserve any special precepts." M SOPHISMS COMMON IN CIVIL LIFE. Although this digression appears widely removed from this subject, it belongs to it nevertheless, for this reason-— that there is no book which more fosters that bad custom of speaking of one's self, being occupied with one's self, and wishing all others to be so too. This wonderfully cor- rupts reason, both in ourselves, through the vanity which always accompanies these discourses, and in others, by the' contempt and aversion which they conceive for us. Those only may be allowed to speak of themselves who are men of eminent virtue, and who bear witness by what means they have become so, so that if they make known their good actions, it is only to excite others to praise God for these, or to instruct them ; and if they publish their faults, it is only to humble themselves before men, and to deter them from committing these. But for ordinary persons it is a ridiculous vanity to wish to inform others of their petty advantages ; and it is insufferable effrontery to reveal thoir excesses to the world without expressing their sorrow for them, since the last degree of abandonment in vice is, not to blush for it, and to .hare no concern or repentance on account of it, but to speak of it indifferently as of anything else ; in which mainly lies the wit of Montaigne. hP' tl ! itlH II Is We may distinguish to some extent from malignant and envious contradiction another kind of disposition not so bad, but which produces the same faults of reiisoniiig ; this is the spirit of debate, which is, however, a vice very in- jurious to the mind. It is not that discussions, generally, can be censured. We may say on the contrary that, provided they be rightly used, there is nothing which contributes more towards I SELF-LOVE — INTE& 1ST — PASSIONS. S9 giving us different hints, both for finding the truth, and for recommending it to others. The movement of the mind, when it works alone in the examination of any subject, is commonly too cold and languid. It needs a certain warmth to inspire it, and awaken its ideas, and it is commonly through the varied opposition which we meet with that we discover wherein the obscurity and the difficulties of con- viction consist, and are thus led to endeavor to overcome them. It is true, however, that just in proportion as this exer- cise is useful when we employ it aright, and without any mixture of passion, so, in that proportion, is it dangerous when we abuse it, and pride ourselves on maintaining our opinion at whatever cost, and in contradicting that of others. Nothing can separate us more widely from the truth, and plunge us more readily into eiTor, than this kind of dispo- sition. We become accustomed, unconsciously, to find reasons for everything, and to place ourselves above reason by never yielding to it, which leads us by degi'ees to hold nothing as certain, and to confound truth with error, in re- garding both as equally probable. This is why it is so rare a thing for a question to be determined by discussion ; and why it scarcely ever happens that two philosophers agree. They always find replies and rejoinders, since their aim is to avoid not error but silence, and since they think it less dis- graceful to remain always in error than to avow that they are mistaken. ' • Thus, unless at least we have been accustomed by long dihcipline to retain the perfect mastery over ourselves, it is very difficult not to lose sight of truth in debates, since there are scarcely any exercises which so much arouse our passions. What vices have they not excited, says a cele- i ^ 24 SOPHISMS COMMON IN CIVIL LIFB. brated author [Montaigne], being almost always governed by anger ! We pass first to a hatred of the reasons, and then of the persons. We learn to dispute only to contradict ; and each contradicting and being contradicted, it comes to pass that the result of the debate is the annihilation of truth. One goes to the east and another to the west — one loses the principle in dispute, and another wanders amidst a crowd of details — and after an hour's storm, they know not what they were discussing. One is above, another below, and another at the side — one seizes on a word or similitude— another neither listens to, nor at hU urderstands what his opponent says, and is so engaged with his own course that he only thinks of following himself, not you. There are some, again, who, conscious of their weakness, fear everything, refuse everything, confuse the discussion at the onset, or i(i the midst of it, become obstinate, and are silent, affecting a proud contempt, or a stupid modesty of avoiding contention. One, provided only that he is stri- king, cares not how he exposes himself — another counts his words and weighs his reasons — a third relies on his voice and lungs alone. We see some who conclude against them- selves, and others who weary and bewilder everyone with prefaces and useless digressions. Finally, there are some who arm themselves with abuse, and make a German quarrel in order to finish the dispute with one who has worsted them in argument. These are the common vices of our debates, which are ingeniously enough represent-ed by this writer,* who, without ever having known the true grandeur, of man, has sufficiently canvassed his defects. * The greater part of this page is taken directly from Montaigne, Essays iii. 8. His sentiments are here referred to with approbation; 4uad it would have been but fair, since when quoted for condemna- SSLf-LOtB— INTEHBBT — PASSIONS. 2» 'We m&f kence judg« kov liable tkese kinds of oonfeir> «noe8 are to disorder the mind, at least unless yre take great *care not only not to fall ourselves first into these errorS; but «lso not to foUow those who do, and so to govern ourselves that we may see them wander without wandering ourselves, And without losing the end we ought to seek, which is tb« elucidation of the truth under (fiscusdon. VIIL We find some persons, again, principally amongst those who attend at court, who, knowing very well how incon- venient and disagreeable these controvertdai dispositions e.re, adopt an immediatdy opposite course^ which is that of contradicting nothing, but of praising and ajpproving every- thing indifferently. This is what is called complaisance^ which is a disposition convenient enough indeed for onr fortune, but very injurious to our judgment, for as the con- troversial hold as true the contrary of "^hat is said to tfaeniy the complaisant appear to take as tnie everything whidi is said to them, and this habit corrupts^ In the first place, their roud and insolent ; but this was perhaps only an inadvertence or simple forgetfulnesa. All exterior things are bat equivocal signs^ that is to say, signs which may signify many things ; and we judge rashly when we determine this sign to mean a particular thing, without having any special reason for doing so. Silence is sometimes a sign of modesty and wisdom, and sometimes of stupidity. Slowness sometimes indicates pru- dence, and sometimes heaviness of mind. Change is some- times a sign of inconstancy, and sometimes of sincerity. Thus it is bad reasoning to conclude that a man is incon- stant, simply from the fact that he has changed his opinion ; for he may have a good reason for changing it. IV. The false inductions by which general propositions are derived from some particular experiences, constitute one of the most common sources of the false reasonings of men. Three or four examples suffice them to make a maacim and a common-placej which they then employ as a principle fo deciding all things, » 88 SOPP .OMMON IN CIVIL LIFE. There are man^ ^valadies hidden from the most skilful physicians, and remedies often do not succeed : rash minds hence conclude that medicine is absolutely useless, and only p. craft of charlatans. There are light and loose women : this is sufficient for the jealous to conceive unjust suspicions against the most vir- tuous, and for licentious writers to condemn all universally There are some persons who hide great vices under an appearance of piety ; libertines conclude from this that all devotion is no better than hypocrisy. There are some thingr; obscure and hidden, and we are often grossly deceived : all things are obscure and uncer- tain, say the ancient and modern Pjnrrhonists, and we cannot know the truth of anything with certainty. There is a want of equality in some of the actions of men, and this is enough to constitute a common-place, from which none are exempt. " Reason," say they, " is so weak and blind, that there is nothing so evidently clear as to be clear enough for it ; the eaby and the hard are both alike to it ; all subjects are equal, and nature in general disclaims its jurisdiction. We only think what we toill in the very mo- ment in which we will it; we will nothing freely, nothing absolutely, nothing constantly." Most people set forth the defects or good qualities of others only by general and extreme propositions. From some particular actions we infer a habit : from three or four faults we conclude a custom; and what happens once a month or once a year, happens every day, at every hour, and every moment, in the discourses of men, — so little pains do they take to observe in them the limits of truth and justice. THOSE WHICH ARISE FROM OBJECTS THEMSELVES. 39 V. It is a weakness and injustice which we often condemn, but which we rarely avoid, to judge of purposes by the event, and to reckon those who had taken a prudent reso- lution according to the circumstances, so far as they could see them, guilty of all the evil consequences which may have happened therefrom, either simply through accident, or through the malice of others who had thwarted it, or through "some other circumstances which it was impossible for them to foresee. Men not only love to b() fortunate as much as to be wise, but they make no distinction between the fortunate and the wise, nor between the unfortunate and the guilty. This distinction is too subtile for them. We are ingenious in finding out the faults which we imagine have produced the want of success; and as astrologers, when they know a given event, fail not to discover the aspect of the stars which produced it, so also we never fail to find, after disgraces and misfortune, that those who have met with them have de- served them by some imprudence. He is unsuccessful, therefore he is in fault. In this way the world reasons, and in this way it has always reasoned, because there has always been little equity in the judgments of men, and be- cause, not knowing the true causes of things, they substitute others according to the event, by praising those who are successful, and blaming those who are not. VI. But there are no false reasonings more common amongst men than those into which they fall, either by judging rashly of the truth of things from some authority insufii- I ,- " - " - '■ -« fi SOPHISMS COMMON IN CIVIL LIFE. cient to assure them of it, or by deciding the inward essence by the outward manner. We call the former the sophism of authority, the latter the sophism of the manner. To understand how common these are, it is only necessary to consider that the majority of men are determined to be- lieve one opinion rather than another, not by any solid and essential reasons which might lead them to know the truth, but by certain exterior and foreign marks which are more consonant to, or which they judge to be consonant to, truth, than to falsehood. The reason of this is, that tl e interior truth of things is often deeply hidden ; that the minds of men are commonly feeble and dark, fall of clouds and false light, while their outward marks of truth are clear aiid sensible ; so that, as meh naturally incline to that which is easiest, they almost always range themselves on the side where they see those exterior marks of truth which are readily discovered. These may be reduced to two principles, — ^the authority of him who propounds the thing, and the manner in which it is propounded. And these two ways of persuading are so powerful that they carry away almost all minds. We may derive convincing arguments in matters of reli- gion from the manner in which they are advanced. When we see, for example, in different ages of the church, and principally in the last, men who endeavour to propagate their opinions by bloodshed and the sword ; when we see them arm themselves against the church by schism, against temporal powers by revolt ; when we see people without the common commission, without miracles, without any ex- ternal marks of piety, and with the plain marks rather of Ucentiousness, undertake to change the faith and discipline of the church in so criminal a manner, it is more than suffi- \ THOSE WHICH ARISE FKOM OBJECTS THEMSEXVES. 41 cieut to make reasonable men reject them, and to prevent tlie most ignorant from listening to them. But in those things, the knowledge of which is not abso- lutely necessary, and which God has left more to the dis- cernment of the reason of each one in particular, tlie au- thority and the manner are not so important, and they often lead many to form judgments contrary to the truth. We do not undertake to give here the rules and the pre- cise limits of the respect which is due to authority in human things, we simply indicate some gross faults which are committed in this matter. We often regard only the number of the witnesses, with- out at all considering whether the number increases the probability of their having discovered the truth, which is, however, imreasonable ; for^ as an author of our time ha9 wisely remarked, in difficult things, which each must dis-^ cover for himself, it is more likely that a single person will discover the truth than that many wilL Thus the follow- ing is not a valid inference : this opinion is held by the majority of philosophers ; it is, therefore, the truest. We are often persuaded, by certain qualities which have no connection with the truth, of the things which we examine. Thus there are a number of people who trusty implicitly to those who are older, and who have had more experience, even in those things which do not depend on {^e or experience, but on the clearness of the mind. Piety, wisdom, moderation, are without doubt the mosi estimable qualities in the world, and they ought to give great authoirity to those who possess them in those things which depend on piety or sincerity, and even on the knowt ledge of God, for it is most probable that God communicates more to those who servo him more purely ] but there are a 42 SOPHISMS cc >;mon in civil life. multitude of things which depend only on human intelli- gence, human experience, and human penetration, and, in these things, those who have the superiority in intellect and in study, deserve to be relied on more than others. The contrary, however, often happens, and many reckon it best to follow, even in these things, the most devout men. - This arises, in part, from the fact that these advantages of mind are not so obvious as the external decorum which appears in pious persons, and in part, also, from the fact that men do not like to make these distinctions. Discri- mination perplexes them ; they will have all or nothing. If they trust to a man in one thing, they will trust to him in everything ; if they do not in one, tk^j will not in any ; they love short, plain, and eEisy ways. But this disposition, though common, is nevertheless contrary to reason, which shows us that the same persons are not to be trusted to in anything, because they are not distinguished in anything ; and that it is bad reasoning to conclude : he is a serious man, therefore he ie intelligent and clever in everything. VII. It is true, indeed, that if any errors are pardonable, those into which we fall through our excessive defeirence to the opinion of good men are among the number. But there is a delusion much more, absurd in itself, but which is never- theless very common, that, namely, of believing that a man speaks the truth because he is a man of birth, of fortune, or high in office. Not that any formally make these kinds of reasonings — he has a hundred thousand livres a year ; therefore he pos- sesses judgment : he is of high birth ; therefore what he advances must be true : he is a poor man ; therefore he THOSE WHICH ARISE FROM OBJECTS THEMSELVES. 43 is wrong. Nevertheless, something of this kind passes through the minds of the majority, and unconsciously bears away their judgment. Let the same thing be proposed by a man of quality, and by one of no distinction, and it will often be found that we approve of it in the mouth of the former, when we scarcely condescend to listen to it in iL%t of thr latter. Scripture de- signed to teach us this disposition of men, in that perfect representation which is given of it in the book of Ecclesi- asticus.^ " When a rich man speaketh, every one holdeth his tongue, and look, what he saith they extol it to the skies ; but if the poor man speak, they say, * What fellow is this V " (Dives locutvs eat, et omnes tacuerunt, et verbum iUius tisque ad rmbes perducent ; pauper locutus eat, et dicunt. Quia eat hie fj It is certain that complaisance and flattery have much to do with the approbation which is bestowed on the actions and words of people of quality ; as also that Utiej often gain this by a certain outward grace, and by a noble, free, and natural bearing, which is sometimes so distinctive that it is almost impossible for it to be imitated by those who are of low birth. It is certain, also, that there are many who approve of everything which is done and said by the great, through an inward abasement of soul, who bend under the weight of grandeur, and whose sight is not strong enough to bear its lustre.; as, indeed, that the outward pomp which environs them always imposes a little, and makes some im> pression on the strongest minds. This illusion springs from the corruption of the heart of man, who, having a strong passion for honours and pleasureSi Ecclesiasticns xiii 23. !»«[ BBM 44 aOPHISMS COMMON IN <;i^IL LIFB. necessarily conceives a great affection for the means by which these honours and pleasures are obtained. The love •which "we have for all those things which are valued by the world, makes us judge those Lapp^- who possess them ; and, in thus judging them happy, we ]Ar>x^e them above ourselves, and regard them as eminent and exalted persons. This habit of regarding them with respect passes insensibly from their fortune to their mind. Men do not commonly do things by halves : we, therefore, give them minds as exalted as their rank ; we submit to their opinions j and this is the reason of the credit which they commonly obtain in the affairs which they manage. But this illusion is still stronger in the great them«ielves» when they have not laboured to correct the impression which their fortune naturally makes on their minds, than it is in their inferiors. i:^ome derive from their estate and riches a reason for maintaining that their opinions ought to prevail over those who are beneath them. They cannot bear that those people whom they regard with contempt should pre- tend to have as much judgment and reason as thenmelves, and this makes them so impatient of the least contradiction. All this springs from the same source, that is, from the false ideas which thoy have of their grandeur, nobility, and wealth. Instead of considering them as thinge ^together foreign from their oha.racter, which do not prevent them at all from being perfectly equal to all the rest of men, both in mind and body, and which do not prevent their judgment even from being as weak and as liable to be deceived as that of all others, they, in some sort, incorporate with their very essence all these qualities of grand, noble, rich, master, lord, prince, — they exaggerate their idea of themselves with theao THOSE WHICH ARISE FROM OBJECTS THEMSELVES. 45 things, and never represent themselves to themselves with* out all their titles, their equipage, and their train. They are accustomed from their infancy to consider tLem* Selves as of a diiSerent species from other men ; they never mingle in imagination with the mass of human kind ; they arO) in their own eyes, always counts or dukes, and never simply men. Thus they shape to themselves a soul and judgment according to the measure of their fortime, and believe themselves as much above others in mind as they are above them in birth and fortune. The folly of the human mind is such, that there is nothing which may not serve to aggrandise the idea which it has of itself, A beautiful horse, grand clotheS; a long beard, make men consider themselves more clever ; and there are few who do not think more of themselves on horseback or in a coach than on foot. It is easy to convince everybody that there is nothing more ridiculous than these judgments, but it is very difficult to guard entirely against the secret im- pression which these outward things make upon the mind. All that we can do is to accustom ourselves as much as pos- sible to give no influence at all to those qualities which can- not contribute towai^s finding the truth, and to give it even to those which do thus contribute only so far as they really contribute to this end. Age, knowledge, study, experience, mind, energy, memory, accuracy, labour, avail to find the truth of hidden things, and these qualities, therefore, deserve to be respected ; but it is always necessary to weigh with . care, and then to make a comparison with the opposite reasons ; for from separate individual things we can con«< elude nothing with certainty, since thei*e art veiy false opinions which have been sanctioned by men of great mental power, who possessed these qualities to a great extent. mggesmm mtm tf i njii ii ii 'lilli ':'■'' ^i 46 SOPHISMS COltAtOH IN CIVIL LIFS. vin. There is something still more deceptive in the mistakes which arise from the manner, for we are naturally led to believe that a man is in the right when he speaks with grace, with ease, wit^ gravity, with moderation, and with gentleness ; and, on the contrary, that a man is in the wrong when he speaks harshly, or manifests anything of passion, acrimony, or presumption, in his actions and words. Nevertheless, if we judge of the essence of things by these outward and sensible appearances, we must be often de- ceived. 1 c* there are many people who utter follies gravely and modestly; and others, oa the contrary, who, being naturally of a quick temper, or under the influence even of some passion, which appears in their countenance or their words, have nevertheless the truth on their side. There are some men of very moderate capacity, and very super- ficial, who, from having been nourished at court, where the art of pleasing is studied and practised better than any- where else, have v^ery agreeable manners, by means of which they render many false judgments acceptable; and there are others, on the contrary, who, having nothing outward to recommend them, have, nevertheless, a great and solid mind within. There are some who speak better than they think, and others who think better than they speak. Thus reason demands of those who are capable of it, that they judge not by these outward things, and hesitate not to yield to the truth, not only when it ic proposed in ways that are ofiensive and disagreeable, but even when it is mingled with much of falsehood ; for the same person may speak truly in one thing, and falsely in another ; may be right in one thing, and wrong in another. THOSE WHICH ARISE FROM OBJECTS THEMSELVES. 47 It is necessary, therefore, to consider each thing separ. ately, that is to say, we must judge of the manner by the manner, and of the matter by the matter, and not of the matter by the manner, nor of the manner by the matter. A man does wrong to speak with anger, and he does right to speak the truth ; and, on the contrary, another is right in speaking calmly and civijly, and he is wrong' in advancing falsehoods. But as it is reasonable to be on our guard against con- cluding that a thing is true or false, because it is proposed in such a way, it is right, also, that those who wish to per- suade otheis of any truth which they have discovered, should study to clothe it in the garb most suitable for making it acceptable, and to avoid those revolting ways of stating it which only lead to its rejection. They ought to remember that when we seek to move the minds of people, it is a small thing that we have right on our side ; and it is a great evil to have only right, and not to have also that which is necessary for making it acceptable. K they seriously honour the truth, they ought not to dis- honour it by covering it with the marks of falsehood iind deceit ; and if they love it sincerely, they ought not to at- tach to it the hatred and aversion of men, by the offensive way in which they propound it. It is the most important, as well as the most useful precept of rhetoric, that it behoves us to govern the spirit as well as the words ; for although it is a different thing to be wrong in the manner from being wrong in the matter, the faults, nevertheless, of the manner are often greater and more important than those of the matter. 48 SOPttlSttS COMMOir IN CIVIL LlflL In reality, all these fiery, prenumptuous, bitter, obstinate, passionate manners, always spring from some disorder of the mind, which is often more serious than the defect of in» telligenoe and of knowledge, which we reprehend in othersv It is, indeed, always unjust to seek to persuade men in this Way ; for it is very right that We should lead them to the truth when we know it ; but it is wrong to compel others to take as true everything that we believe, and to defer to our authority alone. We do this, however, when we pro* pose the truth in this offensive manner. For the way of flpeaking generally enters into the mind before the reasons, since the mind is more prompt to notice the manner of the speaker than it is to comprehend the solidity of his proofs, which are often, indeed, not comprehended at all. Now the manner of the discourse being thus separated from the proofs, marks only the authority which he who speaks arro- gates to himself ; so that if he is bitter and imperious, he necessarily revolts the minds of others, since he appears to wish to gain, by authority, and by a kind of tyranny, thafc which ought only to be obtained by persua^on and reason. This injustice is still greater when we employ these offen- Bive ways in combating common and received opinions ; for the judgment of an individual may indeed be prefen-ed to that of many when it is more correct, but an individual ought never u) maintain that his authority should prevail against that of all others. Thus, not only modesty and prudence, but justice itself, obliges us to assume a modest air when we combat common opinions of established authority, otherwise we cannot escape the injustice of opposing the authority of an individual to an authority either public, or greater and more widely estab- lished than our own. We cannot exercise too much modera- VBOSE wmca arise from objects tbemseltes. 4D tion when we seek to disturb the position of a received opinion or of an ancient faith. This is so true, that St. Augustine extended it even to religious truths, having given this excellent rule to all those who have to instruct others : — "Observe," says he, " in what way the wise and religious catholics taught that which they had to communicate to others. If they were things common and authorized, they propounded them in a manner full of assurance, and free from every trace of doubt by being accompanied with the greatest possible gentleness ; but if they were extraordinary things, although they themselves very clearly recognized Uieir truth, they still proposed them rather as doubts and as ^esti&ns to be examined, than as dogmas and fixed deci- sions, in order to accommodate themselves in this to the weakness of those who heard them." And so if a truth hfi 80 high that it is above the strength o£ those to whom it is spoken, they prefer rather to keep it back for a while, in order to give them time for growth, and for becoming capable of receiving it, instead of making it kno^u to them that state of weakness in which it would have overwhelmed them. -♦•" LECTURES OT SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON OK MODIFIED LOGIC. LECTURES ON LOGia LECTURE I. — MODIFIED LOGIC. PART L— MODIFIED STOICHEIOLOGY. SECTION I. —DOCTRINE OF TRUTH AND ERROR. TEUTH-ITS OHABACTER AND KOTDS. Havivo now terminated the Doctrine of Pure or Abstract Logic, we proceed to that of Modified or itB object Hodifted Logic,— Concrete Logic. In entering on this sub- ject, I have to recall to your memory what has formerly been stated in regard to the object which Modified Logic proposes for consideration. Pure Logie takes into account only the necessary conditions of thought, as founded on the nature of the thinking process itself. Modified Logic, on the contrary, considers the conditions to which thought is subject, arising from the empirical circum- stances, external and internal, under which exclusively it is the will of our Creator that man should manifest his faculty of thinking. Pure Logic is thus exclusively conversant with the form ; Modified Logic is, likewise, occtipied with the matter, of thought. And ajs their objects are different, 04 MODIFIED LOOia It* problems, — re* duced to three. BO, likewise, must be their ends. The end of Pure Logic is formal truth, — the harmony of thought with thought ; the end of Modified Logic is the harmony of thought with ex- istence, Of these ends, that which Pure Logic proposes is less ambitious, but it is fully and certainly accomplished ; the end which Modified Logic proposes is higher, but it is far less perfectly attained.. The problems which Modified Logic has to solve may be reduced to three : 1°, What is truth and its contradictory op- posite, — Error 1 2", What are the Causes of Error, and the Impediments to Truxih, by which man is beset in the employment of his faculties, and what are the Means of their Eemoval 1 And, 3\ What are the Subsi- diaries by which Human Thought may be strengthened and guided in the exercise of its functions 1 From this statement it is evident that Concrete Logic might, like Pure Logic, have been divided into a Stoicheiology and a Methodology, — the former comprising the first two heads, — the latter the third. For if to Modified Stoicheiology we refer the consideration of the nature of concrete truth and error, and of the conditions of a merely not erroneous employment of thought, — this will be exausted in the First and Second Chapters ; where- as, if we^fer to Methodology a consideration of the means of employing thought not merely without error, buib with a certain positive perfection, — this is what the Third Chapter professes to expound. I commence the First Chapter, which proposes to answer the question, — What ia Truth ? with its correlatives, — by the dictation of the following paragraphs : And distributed be- tween its stoicheiol- ogy and its Method- ology. TBT7TH — rrS CHABACTXB AND KINDS. 56 % I. The end which all our scientific efforts are ex- erted to accomplish, is Truth and cJrtHintT^hit* Oertamty. Tnith is the correspond- ence or agreement of a cognition with its object ; its Criterion is the necessity determined by the laws which govern our faculties of knowledge ; and Certainty is the consciousness of this npoesnl}'. Cer- tainty, or the conscious necessity of knowledge, abso- lutely excludes the admission of any opposite supposi- tion. Where such appears admissible, doubt and un- certainty arise. If we consider truth by relation to ihe degree and kind of Certainty, we have to distinguish Knowledge, Belie/, and Opinion. Knowledge and Be- lief differ not only in degree, but in kind. Knowledge is a certainty founded upon insight ; Belief is a cer- tainty founded upon feeling. The one is perspicuous and objective ; the other is obscure and subjective. Each, however, supposes the other ; and an assurance is fiaid to be a knowledge or a belief, according as the one element or the other preponderates. Opinion ia the admission of something as true, where, however, neither insight nor feeling is so intense as to necessi- tate a perfect certainty. What prevents the admission of a proposition as certain is called Doubt. The approximation of the imperfect certainty of opinion to the perfect certainty of knowledge or belief is called Prohahility. If we consider Truth with reference to Knowledge, and to the way in which this knowledge arises, we must distinguish Umpirical or a posteriori, from Pure or a priori Truth. The former has reference to cogni- tions which have their source in the presentations of 56 MODIFIBD LOGIC. Explicatfoo. Perception, External and Internal, and whicb obtain their form by the elaboration of the Understanding or faoulty of Relations (Siavow). The latter is contained in the necessary and universal cognitions afforded by the Regulative Faculty — Intellect Proper — or Common Sense (vovt). This paragraph, after stating that Truth and Certainty institute the end of all our endeavors after knowledge, for only in the attain^ ment of truth and certainty can we possibly attain to know- ledge or science ; — I say, after the statement of this mani- fest proposition, — it proceeds to define what is meant by the two terms Truth and Certainly ; and, to commence with the former, — -Truih is defined, the correspondence or agreement iA a cognition or cofinitive act of thought with its object The question — What is truth Y is an old and celebrated problem. It was proposed by the Roman Grovemor — by Pontius Pilate — to our Sa- viour ; and it is a question which still recurs, and is still keenly agitated in the most recent schools of Philosophy. In one respect all are nearly agreed in regard to the defini- tion of the tenn, for all admit that by truth is understood a harmony, — an agi-eement, a correspondence between our thought and that wliich we think about. This definition of truth we owe to the schoolmen. " Y&rUiM intellectus" says Acquinas, " est ctdasqttatio intellectus et rei, secundum quod intelleetua dicit esse, qitod est, vel non esse, qoud non est." From the schoolmen, this definition has been handed down to modern philosophers, by whom it is currently employed, without, in general, a suspicion of its origin. It is not, therefore, in regard to the meaning of the term truthf that there is any Trutfa,— what. Daftnttioa of the TRUTH — ITS CHARACTIB AND KINDS. 57 difference of opinion among philosophers. The questions which have provoked discussion, and which Questions in debate . i ^ r 'ii a. j ^ -x- regarding Truth remain, as heretofore, without a definitive solution, are not whether truth be the har- mony of thought and reality, but whether this harmony, or truth, be attainable, and whether we possess any criterion by which we can be assured of its attainment. Considering, however, at present only the meaning of the term, philoso- phers have divided the Truth (or the harmony of thought and its object) into different species, to which they have given diverse names ; but they are at one neither in the division nor in the nomenclature. It is plain that for man there can only be conceived two kinds of truth, because there are for human Fot nun only two thought only two species of object. For kinds of Tnith.-For- , ". *', . , ... . , mai and ReaL >'hat about which we think must either be ^ a thought, or something which a thought contains. On this is founded the distinction of Formal Knowledge and Real Knowledge,— of Formal Truth and Beal Truth. Of these in their order : I. In regard to the former, a thought abstracted from what it contains, that is, from its matter or what it is conversant about, is the more form of thought. The knowledge of the form of thought is a formal knowledge, and the harmony of thought with the form of thought is, consequently. Formal * ^""T!. "^T!^ 1 Truth. Now Formal Knowledge is of two two kinds,— Log^ical , ° and Mathematical. kinds ; for it regards either the conditions of the Elaborative Faculty, — the Faculty of Thought Proper, — or the conditions of our Presentations or P>epresentations of external things, tnat is, the intuitiops of Space and Time. The former of these sciences is Pure I. Formal Truth. Sd MODIFIED LOGIC. LogicAl Truth. Logic — the science which considers the laws to .which the Understanding is astricted in its elaborative operations, without enquiring what is the object, — what is the matter, to which these operations are applied. The latter of these sciences is Mathematics, or the science of Quantity, which considers the relations of Time and Space, without enquiring whether there be any actual reality in space or time. For- mal truth will, therefore, be of two kinds, — Logical and MathematicaL Logical truth is the harmony or agreement of our thoughts with themselves as thoughts, in other words, the correspondence of thought with the universal laws of thinking. These laws are the object of Pure or General Logic, and in these it places the criterion of truth. This criterion is, however, only the negative condition— only the conditio sine qua nonj of truth. Logical truth is supposed in supposing the possibilit )f thought j for all thought presents a combi- nation, the elements of which are repugnant or congruent, but which cannot be repugnant and congruent at the same time. Logic might be true, although we possessed no truth beyond its fundamental laws ; although we knew nothing of any real existence beyond the formal hypothesis of its possibility. But were the Laws of Logic purely subjective, that is, were they true only for our thought alone, and without any objective validity, all human sciences (and Mathematics among the rest) would be purely subjective likewise ; for we are cognizant of objects only under the forms and rules of which Logic is the scientific development. If the true character of objective validity be univei-sality, the Laws of Logic are really of that character, for these laws constrain TRUTH — ITS CHARACTER AND KINDS. 69 US, by their own authority, to regard them as the universal laws not only of human thought, but of universal reason. The case is the same with the other formal science, the science of Quantity, or Mathematics. M»then»t4cal Truth. . . /' , v. c Without inquiring into the reality of ex- istences, and without borrowing from, or attributing to, them anything, Arithmetic, the science of Discrete Quan- tity, creates its numbers, and Geometry, ihe science of Continuous Quantity, creates its figures ; and both operate upon these their objects in absolute independence of all external actuality. The two mathematical sciences are de- pendent for their several objects only on the notion of time and the notion of space, — notions under which alone matter can be conceived as possible, for all matter supposes space, and all matter is moved in space and time. But to the notions of space and time the existence or non-existence of mat^or is indifferent ; indifferent, consequently, to Geometry and Arithmetic, ao long at least as they remain in the lofty regions of pure speculation, and do not descend to the practical applicaticm of their principles. If matter had no existence, nay, if space and time existed only in our minds, mathematics would still be true ; but their truth would be of a purely formal and ideal character, — would furnish us with no knowledge of objective realities. So much for Formal Truth, under its two species of Logi- cal and Mathematical. The other genus of truth — (the end which the "Re&l Sciences propose) — is the harmony between a thought and its matter. The Real Sci- ences are those which have a determinate / reality for their object, and which are con- yepsani about existences other than the forms of thought. II. Rmd Truth. Real and Formal. Setonoes. eo MODIFIED LOGIC. Under the Real Sciences are included the Mental and Ma- terial. The Formal Sciences have a superior certainty to the real ; for they are simply ideal combinations, and they construct their objects without inquiring about their objective reality. The real sciences are sciences of fact, for the point from which they depart is always a fact,- always a presentation. Some of these rest on the presentations of Self-conscious- ness, or the facts of mind ; others on the presentatiojiB of Sensitive Perception, or the facts of nature. The former are the Mental Sciences, the latter the Material. The faets of mind are given partly as contingent, partly as necessary ; the latter — the neces- sary facts — are universal virtually and in themselves ; the former — ^the contingent facte — only obtain a fictitious uni- versality by a process of generalization. The facts of nature, however necessary in themselves, are given to us only as contingent and isolated phenomena ; they have, therefore, only that conditional, that empirical, generality, which we bestow on them by classification. Beal truth is, therefore, the correspondence of our thonghts with the existences which con- stitute their objects. But here a difficulty arises : — How can we know that there is, that there can be, such a correspondence ? All that we know of the objects is through the presentations of our faculties ; but whether these present the objects as they are in themselves, we can never ascertain, for to do this it would be requisite to go put of ourselves, — out of our faculties, — to obtain a knowledge of the objects by other faculties, and thus to con\< pare our old presentations with our new. But all this, even were tho supposition possible, wo\ild ht^ incompet^t to How can we know that there is a corre- ■pondence between our thought and Its object? TRUTH — ITS CBABACTBB AND KINDS. 61 afford us, the certainty required. For were it possible to leave our old, and to obtain a new, set of faculties, by which to test the old, still the veracity of these new faculties would be equally obnoxious to doiibt as the veracity of the old. For what guarantee could we obtain for the credibility in the one case, which we do not already possess in the other 1 The new faculties could only assert their own truth ; but this is done by the old ; and it is impossible to imagine any presentations of the non-ego by any finite in- telligence, to which a doubt might not be raised, whether these presentations were not mei^ly subjective modifications of the conscious ego itself. All that could be said in answer to such a doubt is, that if such were true, our whole nature is a lie, — a supposition which is not, without the strongest evidence, to be admitted ; and the argument is as competent against the sceptic in our present condition, as it would be were we endowed with any other conceivable form of Acquisitive and Cognitive Faculties. But I am here trenching on what ougbt to be reserved for an expla- nation of the Criterion of Truth. Such, as it appears to me, is the only rational division of Truth according to the different character of the objects to which thought is relative, — into Formal and into Real Truth. For- mal Truth, as we have seen, is subdivided into Logical and into Mathematical. Keal Truth might likewise be sub- divided, were this requisite, into various species. For example, Metaphysical Truth might denote the harmony of thought with the necessary facts of mind ; Meuphyrioai. Psychological Truth, tbe harmony of thought with the contingent facts of mind ; and Physical Truth, the harmony of thought with the pheenomena of external experience. Real Truth, — Ita ■ubdivisions. Psychological. Physical. 62 MODIFIED LOGIC. It now remains to say a word in regard to the confusion which has been introduced into this sub- Various applications • . 1 .1- ji J* i« j.« _j ofthetermrrw^ft. J®°*' ^^ *^® groundless distinctions and contradictions of philosophers. Some have absurdly given the name of truth to the mere reality of existence, altogether abstracted from any conception or judgment relative to it, in any intelligence, human or divine. In this sense physical truth has been used to denote the actual existence of a thing. Some have given the name of metaphysical t^ruth to. the congruence of the thing with its idea in the mind of the Creator. Others again have bestowed the name of metaphysical truth on the mere logical possibility of being thought ; while they have denominated by logical truth the metaphysical or physical correspondence of thought with its objects. Finally, the term moral or ethical truth has been given to veracity, or the correspondence of thought with its expression. In this last case, truth is not, as in the others, employed in relation to thought and its object, but to thought and its enounce- ment. So much for the notion, and the principal dis- tinctions of Truth. But, returning to the paragraph; I take the next clause, which is, — " The Criterion of truth is the The Criterion of necessity determined by the laws which Truth. -^ , •' govern our faculties of knowledge ; and the consciousness of this necessity is certainty." That the ne- cessity of a cognition, that is, the impossibility of thinking it other than as it is presented, — that this necessity, as founded on the laws of thought, is the criterion of truth, is ehown by the circumstance that where such necessity is found, all doubt in regard to the correspondence of the cognitive thought and its object must vanish ; for to doubt TBUTH — ITS OHABAOTER AND KINDS. 63 whether what we necessarily tLink in a certain manner, actually exists as we conceive it, is nothing less than an endeavor to think the necessary as the not necessary or the impossible, which is contradictory. What has just been said also illustrates the trul^ of the next sentence of the paragraph, viz., — " Certainty or the conscious necessity of a cognition absolutely excludes the admission of any opposite supposition. When such is found to be admissible, doubt and uncertainty arise." This sen- tence requiring no explanation, I proceed to the next; viz., — " If we consider truth by the relation to the degree and kind of Certainty, we have to distinguish Knowledge, Belief, and Opinion. Knowledge and fielief differ not only in degree but in kind. Knowledge is a certainty founded on intuition. Belief is a certainty founded upon feeling. The one is perspicuous and objective, the other is obscure and subjective. Each, however, supposes the other, and an assurance is said to be a knowledge or a belief, according as the one element or the other preponderates." In reference to this passage, it is necessary to say some- thing in regard to the difference of Know- ledge and Belief. In common language the wcKrd Belief is often used to denote an inferior degree of certainty. We may, bow- ever, be equally certain of what we believe as of what we know, and it has, not with- out ground, been maintained by many philosophers, both in ancient and in mo- dem times, that the certainty of all know- ledge is, in its ultimate analysis, resolved into a certainty of belief. " All things," says Luther, " stand in a belief, in a faith, which he can neither see nor comprehend. The Knowledge and B«- lifif — tbeir cUflerence. That the certainty of all knowledge la ultimately reaolvable into a certainty of Belief, maintained by Luther. 64 MODIFIED LOGIC. Ariatotle. man who would make these visible, manifc^it, and compre- hensible, has vexation and heart-grief for his reward. May the Lord increase Belief in you and in others." But you may perhaps think that the saying of Luther is to be taken theologically, and that, philosophically considered, all belief ought to be founded on knowledge, not all knowledge in 1>elief. But the same doctrine is held even by those phi- losophers who are the least disposed to mysticism or blind faith. Aq[iong these Aristotle stands dis- tinguished. He defines science, strictly so called, or the knowledge of indubitable truths, merely by the intensity of our conviction or subjective assurance ; and on a primary and incomprehensible belief he hangs the whole chain of our comprehensible or immediate knowledge. The doctrine which has been called The PhUoaophy of Common Sense, is the doctrine which founds all our know- ledge on belief ; and, though this has not been signalized, the doctrine of Common Sense is perhaps better stated by the Stagirite than by any succeeding thinker. " What," he says, " appears to all men, that we affirm to be, and he who rej ots this belief (irwrns) will assuredly advance nothing better worthy of credit." This passage is from his Nicomct- chean Ethics. But, in his Physical Treatises, he founds in belief the knowledge we have of the reality of motion, and by this, as a source of knowledge pai'amount to the Under- standing, he supersedes the contradictions which are in- volved in our conception of motion, and which had so acutely been evolved by the Eleatic Zeno, in order to show that motion was impossible. In like manner, in his Logical Treatises, Aristotle shows that the primary or ultimate principles of knowledge must be incomprehensible ; for if comprehensible, they must be comprehended in some higher TRUTH — ITS CHARACTER AlTD KINDS. 65 The Platonists. Proclufl. notion, and this again, if not itself incomprehensible, must be again comprehended in a still higher, and so on in a progress ad infimtum, which is absurd. But what is given as an ultimate and incomprehensible principle of knowledge, is given as a fact, the existence d which we must admit, but the reasons of whose existence we cannot know, — we cannot understand. But such an admission, as it is not a knowledge, must be a belief ; and thus it is that, according to Aristotle, all our knowledge is in its root a blind, a passive faith, in other words, a feeling. The same doctrine was subsequently held by many of the acutest thinkers of ancient times, more especially among the Platonists ; and of these Proclus is perhaps the philosopher in whose works the doctrine is turned to the best account. In modern Jimes we may trace it in silent operation, though not explicitly proclaimed, or placed as the foundation of a system. It is found spontaneously recognized even by those who might be supposed the least likely to acknowledge it without compulsion. Hume, for ex* ampie, against whose philosophy the doctrine of Common Sense was systematically arrayed, himself pointed out the weapons by which his adversaries subsequently assailed his scepticism ; for he himself was possessed of too much philo- sophical acuteness not to perceive that the root of knowledge is belief. Thus, in his Inquiry, he says, — " It seems evident that men are carried by a natural instinct or prepossession to repose faith in their senses : and that, without any reasoning, or even almost before the use of reason, we always suppose an external universe which depends not on our preception, but would exist though we and every sen- sible creature wet« absent or annihilated. Even the animal Hume, 6<' MODIFIED LOGIC. of Belief involves Knowledge. creation are governed by a like opinion, and preserve this belief, — the belief of external objects, in all their thoughts, designs, and actions This very table which we see white, and which we feel hard, is believed to exist inde- pendent of our perception, and to be something external to our mind which perceives it." But, on the other hand, the manifestation of this belief necessarily involves knowledge ; for we The manifestation cannot believe without some consciousness or knowledge of the belief, and, conse- quently, without some consciousnesss or knowledge of the object of the belief. Now the immediate consciousness or knowledge of an object is Intultton,-what. • • ;:, Tf io called an intuition, — an insight. It is thus impossible to separate belief and knowledge, — ^feeling and intuition. They each suppose the other. The consideration, however, of the relation of Belief and Knowledge does not properly belong to Logic, except in so far as it is necessary to explain the nature of Truth and Error. It is altogether a metaphysical discussion ; and one of the most difficult problems of which Metaphysics attempts the solution. The remainder of the paragraph contains the statement of certain distinctions and the definition of certain terms, which it was necessary to signalize, but which do not require any commentary for their illustration. The only part that might have required an explanation is the distinction of Truth into Pure, or a priori, and into Empirical, or a pos- teriori. The explanation of this division has been already given more than once, but the following may now be added. The question as to the relation of Belief and Knowledge pro- perly metapbysicaL TRUTH — ITS CHARACTEB AND KINDS. 67 Pure and Empiri- cal Truth. Experience presents to us only individual objects, and as these individual objects might or might not have come within our sphere of obser- vation, our whole knowledge of and from these objects might or might not exist ; — it is merely acci- dental or contingent. But as our knowledge of individual objects affords the possibility, as supplying the whole con- tents, of our generalized or abstracted notions, our general, ized or abstracted notions are, consequently, not more necessary to thought, than the particular observations out of which they are constructed. For example, every horse I have seen 1 might not have seen; and I feel no more necessity to think the reality of a horse than the reality of a hippogriff ; I can, therefore, easily annihilate in thought the existence of the whole species. I,can suppose it not to be, — not .to have been. The case is the same with every other notion which is mediately or immediately the datum of observation. We can think away each and every part of the knowledge we have derived from experience ; our whole empirical knowledge is, therefore, a merely accidental possession of the mind. Bat there are notions in the mind of a very different character, — notions which we cannot but think, if we think at all. These, therefore, are notions necessary to the mind ; and, as necessary, they cannot be the product of experience. For example, I perceive something to begin to be. I feel no necessity to think that this thing must be at all, but thinking it existent, I cannot but think that it has a cause. The notion, or rather the judgment, of Cause and Effect, is, therefore, necessary to the mind. If so, it cannot be derived from experience. LECTURE II.— MODIFIED STOICHEIOLOGY. SECTION I.— DOCTRINE OP TRUTH AND ERROR. SECTION II.— ERROR,— ITS CAUSES AND REMEDIES. A.-GEN£BAL CIBGUMSTANCES-SOCIETr. I SOW proceed to the consideration of the opposite of Truth, — Error, and, on this subject, give you the following paragraph : f II. Error is opposed to Truth ; and Error arises, 1°, From the commutation of 'what is Par. IL Error,— Subjective and what is Objective in ■onroea thought ; 2°, I'rom the Contradiction of a supposed knowledge with its Laws ; or, 3°, From a want of Adequate Activity in our Cognitive Faculties. Error is to be discriminated from Ignorance and from Illusion; these, however, along with Arbitrary Assumption, afford the most frequent occasions of error. This paragraph consists of two parts, and these I shall successively consider. The first is : " Error ExpUoation. . / , , nn. . IS opposed to truth j and Error arises,-— 1", Prom the commutation of what is subjective with what is objective in thought ; 2°, From the contradiction of a OBKERAL CmCUHSTAircn — SOCIETY. «9 Bnror,— wbkt. lupposed knowledge vdtAi its laws ; or, 3", From a want of adequate activity in our oofl;nitive faculties." *' In the first place, we have seen that Truth is the agree- ment of a thought with its object. Kow, as Error is the opposite of truth, — Error must neeesearily consist in a want of this agreement. In the second place, it has been shown that the criterion or standard of truth is the necessity founded on the laws of our •cognitive faculties ; and from this it follows that the essential character of error must be, either that it is not founded on these laws, or that it is r^ugnant to them. But these two alternatives may be viewed as only one ; for inas* much as, in the former case, the judgment remains unde- cided, and can make no pretence to certainty, it may be thrown out of account no less than in the latter, where, as positively contradictory of the laws of knowledge, it is necessarily false. Of these statements the first, that is, the non-agreement of a notion with its object, is error viewed on its material side ; aad as a notion is the common product, — ^the joint result afforded by the reciprocal action <^ object and subject, it is evident (hat whatever the notion contuns not correspondent to the object, must be a contribution by the thinking subject alone, and we are thus warranted in saying that Material Error consists in the commuting of what is subjective with what is objective in thought ; in other words, in mistaking an ideal illusion for a real representation. The second of these statements, that is, the incongruence of the supposed cognition with the laws of knowledge, is error viewed on its formal side. Now here the question at once presents itself, — How can an act <^ AsHaterikL Am FonnaL 70 HODIFIEO LOGIC. ArifM from the want of adoquate ac- tivity of the Cogni- tive Faculties. cognition contradict its own laws ? The answer is that it cannot ; and error, when more closely scrutinized, is found not so much to con- sist in the contradictory activity of our cognitive faculties as in their want of activity. And this may be in consequence of one or other of two cause& For. it may arise from some ether mental power, — the will, for example, superseding, — taking the place of, the defective cognition, or, by its in- tenser force, turning it aside and leading it to a false result ; or it may arise from some want of relative perfection in the object, so that the cognitive faculty is not determined by it to the requisite degree of action. "What is actually thought, cannot but be correctly thought. Error first commences when thinking is remitted, and can in fact only gain admission in vii-tue of the truth which it contains ; — every error is a perverted trath. Hence Descartes is justified in the establishment of the principle, — ^that we would never admit the false for the true, if we would only give assent to what we clearly and distinctly apprehend. * NiMl noa unquwm faUum, 'pro vero admissuroSj si tantum iia aaaenswn prasbeamtta, qu(z clare et distincte percipirmiB.' " In this view the saying of the Roman poet — *' If am neque deeipitur ratio, nee decipU unqtiam," — ^is no longer a paradox ; for the condition of error is not the activity of intelligence, but its inactivity. So much for the first part of the paragraph. The second is — " Error is to be discriminated Enrordiscriminated fxota. Ignorance and from Illusion, which, from Ignorance and . . • . i a t • . & Diuaion. however, along with Arbitrary Assump- tion, afford the usual occasions of Error." 0£NEBAL CIBCUMSTAKCE8 — SOCIETY. 71 » " Ignorance is a mere negation, — a mere noi-knowledge ; whereas in error there lies a positive pre* ^ Ignoruiee. , .111 -r*- tence to knowledge. Hence a representa- tion, be it imperfect, be it even without any correspondent objective reality, is not in itself an error. The imagina- tion of a hippogriff is not in itself false; the Orlando Furioso is not a tissue of errors. Error only arises when we attribute to the creations of our minds some real object, by an assertory judgment ; we do not err and deceive either ourselves or others, when we hold and enounce a sub- jective or problematic supposition only for what it is. Ignorance, — not knowledge, — however, leads to error, when we either regard the unknown as non-existent, or when we falsely fill it up. The latter is, however, as much the result of Will, of arbitrary assumption, as of ignorance ; and frequently, it is the result of both together. In general, the will has no inconsiderable share in the activity by which knowledge is realized. The will has not immediately an influence on our judgment, but mediately it has. Attention is an act of volition, and attention furnishes to the under- standing the elements of its decision. The will determines whether we shall carry on our investigations, or break them off, content with the first apparent probability ; and whether we shall apply our observations to all, or, only partially, to certain, momenta of determination. " The occasions of Error which lie in those qualities of Presentation, Bepreser.tation, and Thought arising from the conditions and influences of the thinking subject itself, are called IllusUma. But the existence of illusion does not necessarily imply the existence of error. Illusion becomes error only when we attribute to it objective truth; whereas illusion is no error when we nivsion. 72 '.'«■ MODIFIED LOOia 11 i ; I I regard the fallacious appearance as a mere subjective affec- tion. In the jaundice, we see everything tinged with yellow, in consequence of the suffu ion of the eye with bile. In this case, the yellow vision is illusion ; and it would become error, were we to suppose that the objects we per- ceive were really so colored. AH the powers which co- operate to the formation of our judgments may become the sources of illusion, and, consequently, the ItBBourcea. . . ™ « t ^^ occasions of error. The Senses, the Pre- Bentative Faculties, External and Internal, the Represen- tative, the Retentive, the RejMX)ductive, and the Elaborative Faculties, are imraediate, the Feelings and the Desires are mediate, sources of illusion. To these must be added the Faculty of Signs, in all its actual manifestations in language. Henoe we speak of sensible, psychological, moral, and sym- bolical, illusion. In all these relations the causes of illusion ar* partly general, partly particular; and though they proximately manifest themselves in some one or other of these forms, they may ultimately be found contained in the circumstances by which the mental character of the indi- vidual is conformed. Taking, therefore, a general view of all the possible Sources of Error, I think they may be re- duced to the following classes, which^ as they constitute the heads and determine the order of the ensuing diseuscdon, I shall comprise in the following paragraph, with which oommenoes the consideration of the Second Chapiter of Modified Logic. Before, however, proceeding to consider these senreral classes in their order, I may observe that a^con'r ci»Miflo». ■'^*"'<^ ^ *h® fi™** philosopher who attempt- tkm of tiM Mmrccs ed E systematic enumeration of the various of MMT. sources of «Tor ; and his ^^tiaint olasaifi- «atit« of these, under the signifieaat nam« of idohf wU> tht 1 1 GENERAL CIRCUMSTANCES — SOCIETY. Par, in. Error,— itaaonrces* four gerera of Idols of the Tribe (idola tribus), Idols of the D&a. (idola specus), Idols of the Forum {idola fori), which may mean either tiie market-place, the bar, or the place of public assembly, and Idols of the Theatre (idola theatri), he thus briefly chnracterizes. ^ III. The Causes and Occasions of Error are com- prehended in one or other of the four following classes. For they are found either, 1", In the General Circum- stances which modify the intellectual character of the individual 3 or, 2°, In the Constitution, Habits, and Reciprocal Relations of his powers of Cognition, Feeling, and Desire ; or, 3", In the Language which he employs, as an Instrument of Thought and a Medium of Communication : or, 4°, In the nature of the Objects themselves, about which his knowledge ia conversant. IT IV. Under the General Circumstances which modify the character of the individual are comprehended, 1°, The particular degree of Cultivation to which his nation has attained ; for its rudeness, the partiality of its civilization, and its over-refinement are all manifold occasions of error ; and this cultivation is expressed not merely in the state of the arts and sciences, but in the degree of its religious, political, and social advancement ; 2°, The Stricter Associations, in so far as these tend to limit the freedom of thought, and to give it a one-sided direction ; such are Schools, Sects, Orders, Exclusive Soviietiee, Corporations, Castes, etc. In the comraencemQnt of the Course, I bad occasion to Par. IV. I. Gen- eral Oiroumatances which modify the character of the in- dividual. m^- \^nStr>.' MODIFIED LOGIC. Explication. Man by oatxire social, and influenced by the opinions of his fel- lows. allude to the tendency there is in man to assimilate in opinions and habits of thought to those •with whom he lives. Man is by nature, not merely by accidental necessity, a social being. For only in society does he find the conditions which Lis different faculties require for their due development and applicatlo7i. But society, in all its forms and degrees, from a family to a State, is only possible under the condition of a certain harmony of sentiment among its members ; and as man is by nature destined to a social existence, he is by nature determined to that ar.\alogy of thought and feeling which society supposes, and out of which society springs. There is thus in every association, great and small, a certain gravitation of opinions towards a common centre, As in our natural body every part has a necessary sympathy with every other, and all together form, by their harmonious con- spiration, a healthy whole j so, in the social body, there is always a strong predisposition in each of its. members to act and think in unison with the rest. Tliis universal sympathy or fellow-feeling is the principle of the different spirit domi- nant in different ages, countries, ranks, sexes, and. periods of life. It is the cause why fashions, why political and religious enthusiasm, why moral example either for good or evil, spread so rapidly and exert so powerful an influence. As men are naturally prone to imitate others, they, conse- quently, regard as important or insignificant, as honorable or disgraceful, as true or false, as good or bad, what those around them consider in the same light. Of the various testimonies I formerly quoted, of the strong assimilating influence of man on man, and of the power of custom, to make that appear true, natui-al, and necessary, Pascal quoted on the power of custom. ■ GENERAL CIRCUMSTANCES — SOCIElT. •tt' which in reality is false, unnatural, and only accidentally suitable, I shall onlv adduce that of Pascal. " In the just and the unjust," says he, " we find hardly anything which does not change its character in changing its climate. Three degrees of an elevation of the pole reverses the whole of jurisprudence. A meridian is decisive of truth, and a few years, of possession. Fundamental laws change. Kight has its epochs. A pleasant justice which a river or a mountain limits ! Truth on this side the Pyrenees, error on the other ! " It is the remark of an ingenious philoso- pher, " that if we take a survey of the universe, all nations will be found admiring only the reflection of their own qualities, and contemning in others whatever is contrary to what they are accustomed to meet with among themselves. Here is the Englishman accusing the French of frivolity ; and here the Frenchman reproaching the Englishman with selfishness and brutality. Here is the Arab persuaded of the infallibility of his Caliph, and deriding the Tartar who believes in the immortality of the Grand Lama In every nation we find the same congratulation of their own wisdom, and the same contempt of that of their neighbors. " Were there a sage sent down to earth from heaven, who regulated his conduct by the dictates of pure reason alone, this sage would be universally regarded as a fool. He would be, as Socrates says, like a physician accused by the pastry-cooks, before a tribunal of children, of prohibiting tho eating of tarts and cheese-cakes ; a crime undoubtedly of the highest magnitude in the eyes of his judges. In vain would this sage support his opinions by the clearest arguments, — the most irrefragable demonstrations ; the whole world would be for him like the nation of hunch- ! I m. MODIFIED LOaiC. backs, among whom, as the Indian fabulists relate, there once upon a time appeared a god, young, beautiful, and of consummate symmetry. This god, they add, entered the capital ; he was there forthwith surrounded by a crowd of natives; his figure appeared to them extraordinary ; laughter, hooting, and taunts manifested their astonishment, and they were about to carry their outrages still further, had not one of the inhabitants (who had undoubtedly seen other men), in order to snatch him from the danger, suddenly cried out — * My friends ! my friends ! What are we going to do ? Let us not insult this miserable monstrosity. If heaven has bestowed on us the general gift of beauty, — if it has adorned our backs with a mount of flesh, let us with pious gratitude repair to the temple and render our ac- knowledgement to the immortal gods.' " This fable is the history of human vanity. Every nation admires its own defects, and contemns the opposite qualities in its neighbors. To succeed in a country, one must be a bearer of the national hump of the people among whom he sojourns. There are few philosophers who undertake to make their countrymen aware of the ridiculous figure The art of doubt- they cut in the eye of reason ; and still teach and to learn. fewer the nations who are able to profit by the advice. All are so punctiliously at- tached to the interests of their vanity, that none obtain in any country the name of wise, except those who are fools of the common folly. There is no opinion too absurd not to £tnd nations ready to believe it, and individuals prompt to be its executioners or its martyrs. Hence it is that the philosopher declared, that if he held all truths shut up within his hand, he would take especial care not to show ! GENERAL CIRCUMSTANCES — SOCIETY. n them to his fellow-men. In fact, if the discovery of a single truth dragged Galileo to the prison, to what punishment would he not be doomed who should discover all 1 Among those who now ridicule the folly of the human intellect, and are indignant at the persecution of Galileo, there are few who would not, in the age of that philosopher, have clamored for his death. They would then have been imbued with different opinions ; and opinions not more passively adopted than those which they at present vaunt as liberal and enlightened. To learn to doubt of our opinions, it is sufficient to examine the powers of the human intellect, to survey the circumstances by which it is affected, and to study the history of human follies. Yet in modem Europe six centuries elapsed from the foundation of Universities until the appearance of that extraordinary man, — I mean Descartes, — whom his age first persecuted, and then almost worshipped as a demi-god, for initiating men in the art of doubting,— of doubting well, — a lesson at which, however, both their skepticism and credulity show that, after two centuries, they are still but awkward scholars. Socrates was wont to say, — " All that I know is that I know nothing." In our age it would seem that men know everything except what Socrates knew. Our errors would not be so frequent were we less ignorant ; and our ignorance more curable, did we not believe ourselves to be all-wise. Thus it is that the influence of Society, both in its general form of a State or Nation, and in its particular forms of Schools, Sects, etc., determines a muldtude of opinions in its members, which, as they are passively received, so they are often altogether erroneous. if 78 MODIFIED LOGIC. 'I Two general forms of the influence of example. 1. Prejudice in fa- vor of the Old. Prepared by EdU' cation. Among the more general and influential of these there are two, which, though apparently contrary,are, however, both, in reality, founded on the same incapacity of independent thought, — on the same influence of example — I mean the excessive admiration of the Old, and the excessive admiration of the New. The former of these prejudices — under which may be reduced the prejudice in favor of Authority, — was at one time prevalent to an extent of which it is difficult for us to form a conception. This prejudice is prepared by the very education not only which we do, but which we all must re- ceiva The child necessarily learns every- thing at first on credit, — he believes upon authority. But when the rule of authority is once estab- lished, the habit of passive acquiescence and belief is formed, and, onoe formed, it is not again always easily thrown o^. When the child has grown up to an age in which he might employ his own reason, he has acquired a large stock of ideas ; but who can calculate the number of errors which this stock contains 1 and by what means is he able to dis- criminate the true from the false 1 His mind has been formed to obedience and uninquiry ; he possesses no cri- terion by which to judge ; it is painful to suspect what has been long venerated, and it is felt even as a kind of personal mutilation to tear up what has become irradicated in his intellectual and moral being. Po-nere difficile eat quae pla- cuere diu. The adult does not, therefore, often judge for himself more than the child ; and the tyrann}' of authority and foregone opinion continues to exert a sway during the whole course of his life. In our infancy and childhood the credit accorded to our parents and instructors is implicit j GENERAL CIRCTMSTANCES— SOCIETY. % and if what we have learned from them be confirmed by what we hear from others, the opinions thus recommended become at length stamped in almost indelible characters upon the mind. This is the cause why men so rarely abandon the opinions which vulgarly pass current ; and why what comes as new is by so many, for its very novelty, rejected as false. And hence it is, as already noticed, that truth is as it were geographically and politically distributed j what is truth on one side of a boundary being error and absurdity on the other. What has now been said of the influence of society at large, is true also of the lesser societies which it contains, all of which impose with a stronger or feebler, a wider or more contracted, authority, certain received opinions upon the faith of the members. Hence it is that whatever has once obtained a recognition in any society, large or small, is not rejected when the reasons on which it was originally admitted have been proved erroneous. It continues, even for the reason that it is old and has been accepted, to be accepted still ; and the title which was originally defective, becomes valid by con- tinuance and prescription. . But opposed to this cause of error, from the prejudice in favor of the Old, there is the other, directly the reverse, — the prejudice in favor of the New. This prejudice may be, in part at least, the result of sympathy and fellow-feeling. This is the cause why new opinions, however erroneous, if they once obtain a certain number of converts, often spread with a rapidity and to an extent, which, after their futility has been ultimftely shown, can only be explained on the princi- ple of a kind of intellectual contagion. But the principal cause of the prejudice in favor of novelty lies in the Passions, 2. Prejudice m fa- vor of the New. ^ f; 80 MODIFIED LOGIC. ! I i . and the consideration of these does not belong to the class of causes with which we are at present occupied. Connected with and composed of both these prejudices, — that in favor of the old and that in favor edA thoritv "" ^^ *^® new, — there is the prejudice of Learned Authority ; for this is usually associated with the prejudices of Schools and Sects. As often as men have appeared, who, by the force of their genius, have opened up new views of science, and thus con- tributed to the progress of human intellect, so often have they, likewise, afforded the occasion of checking its advance- ment, and of turning it from the straight path of improve- ment. Not that this result is to be imputed as a reproach to them, but simply because it is of the nature of man to be so affected. The views which influenced these men of genius, and which, consequently, lie at the foundation of their works, are rarely comprehended in their totality by those who have the names of these authors most frequently in their mouths. The many do not concern themselves to seize the ideal which a philosopher contemplated, and of which his actual works are only the imperfect representa- tions ; they appropriate to themselves only some of his detached apothegms and propositions, and of these com- pound, as they best can, a sort of system suited to their understanding, and which they employ as a talisman in their controversies with others. As their reason is thus a captive to authority, and, therefore, unable to exert its native freedom, they, consequently, catch up the true and the false without discrimination, and remain always at the point of progress where they had been placed by their leaders. In their hands a system of living truths becomes a t GSKJERAL CIRCUMSTANCS8 — tOCISTY. 81 mere petrified organism ; and they require that the whole science sliall become as dead and as cold as their own idol. Such was Plato's doctrine in the hands of the Platonists ; such was Aristotle's philosophy in the hands of the School- men ; and the history of modem systems affords equally the same result. So much for the first genus into which the Sources of Error are divided. 'A.^.-.«- g# • Ilk' ,>: 1 ; i ! I i II I II 1 i Recapitulation. LECTURE III— MODIFIED STOICHEIOLOGY. / SECTION 11.— ERROR -ITS CAUSES AND REMEDIES. A.— GENERAL CIRCUMSTANCES— SOCIETY. R— AS IN POWERS OP COGNITION, FEELING, AND DESIRE. L—APPECTIONS-PRECIPITANCY-SLOTH— HOPE AND PEAR- SELF-LOVE. In our last Lecture, we entered on the consideration of the various sources of Error. These, I stated, may be conveniently reduced to four heads, and consist, 1°, In the General Circumstances which modify the intellectual character of the individual ; 2", In the Con- stitution, Habits, and Reciprocal Relations of his powers of Cognition, Feeling, and Desire ; 3°, In the language which he employs as an Instrument of Thought and a Medium of Communication ; and, 4®, In the nature of the Objects themselves about which his knowledge is conversant. Of these, I then gave you a general view of the nature of those occasions of Error, which originate in the circum- stances under the inBuence of which the chai:acter and opinions of man are determined for him as a member of society. Under this head I stated, that, as man is destined by his Creator to fulfil the end of his existence in society, be is wisely furn|she4 with ^ disposition to imitate those II i i 11! AFFECTIONS — PRECIPITANCY. 83 among whom his lot is cast, and thus conform Iiimsolf to whatever section of human society he may by birth belong, or of which he may afterwards become a member. The education we receive, nay the very possibility of receiving education at all, supposes to a certain extent the passive infusion of foreign and traditionaiy opinions. For as man is compelled to think much earlier than he is able to think for himself, — all education necessarily imposes on him many opinions which, whether in themselves true or false, are, in reference to the recipient, only prejudices ; and it is even only a small number of mankind who at a later period are able to bring these obtruded opinions to the test of reason, and by a free exercise of their own intelligence to reject them if found false, or to acknowledge them if proved true. But while the mass of mankind thus remain, during their whole lives, only the creatures of the accidental circum- stances which have concurred to form for them their habits and beliefs ; the few who are at last able to form opinions for themselves, are still dependent, in a great measure, on the unreasoning judgment of the many. Public opinion, hereditary custom, despotically impose on us the Ct,pricioua laws of propriety and manners. The individual may pos- sibly, in matters of science, emancipate himself from their servitude ; in the affairs o" life he must quietly submit him- self to the yoke. The only freedom he can here prudently manifest, is to resign himself with a consciousness that he is a slave not to reason but to conventional accident. And while he conforms himself to the usages of his own society, he will be tolerant to those of others. In this respect his maxim will be that of the Scythian prince : " With you such may be the custom — with us it is different." ^^> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // ^/ ^/^^ A :/. 1.0 Mi 1^ I.I US lAO 1.25 2.5 I- 2.0 U 1111.6 Hiotografilic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 145B0 (716) 872-4503 m :\ .^v \ 4 ;\ 84 MODIFIED LOGIC. Keoessary to butl- tute « oritioal exami- nation of the contenta of our knowledge. So much for tlie general nature of the influence to which ■we are exposed from the circumstances Means by which the „ e^ - . -. • . t j. influence of society, oi Society ; it now remains to say what as a source of error, are the means by which this influence, as may be counteracted. ^ gource of error, may be counteracted. It has been seen that, in consequence c ^ the manner in which our opinions are formed for us by the accidents of society, our imposed and supposed knowledge is a confused medley of truths and errors. Here it is evidently necessary to institute a critical examina- tion of the contents of this knowledge. Descartes proposes that, in order to discriminate, among our pr3judiced opinions, the truths from the errdrs, we ought to commence by doubting all. Thia has exposed him to much obloquy and clamor, but most unjustly. The doctrine of Descartes has nothing skeptical or offensive ; for he only maintains that it behooves us to examine all that has been inculcated on us from in- fancy, and under the masters to whose authority we have been subjected, with the same ^.ttention and circumspection whidh we accord to dubious questions. In fact there is nothing in the precept of Descartes, which had not been previously enjoined by other philosophers. Of these I for- merly quoted to you several, and among others the remark- able testimonies of Aristotle, St. Augustin, and Lord Bacon. But although there be nothing reprehensible in the pre- pt of Descartes, as enounced by him, it Conditions which jg ©f j^gg practical Utility in consequence HoQ, of no account being taken of the circum- stances which condition and modify its application. For, in the first place, the judgments to bet Deseartes, precept. -hia AFFECTIONS — PRECIPITAJTCT. 80 examined ought not to be taken at random, but selected on a principle, and arranged in due order and dependence. But this requires no ordinary ability, and the distribotion of things into their proper classes is one of the last and most difficult fruits of philosophy. In the second place, there are among our prejudices, or pretended cognitions, a great many basty conclusions, the investigation of which requires much profound thought, skill, and acquired knowledge. Now from both of these considerations, it is evident that to com- mence philosophy by such a review, it is necessary for a man to be a philosopher before he can attempt to become one. The precept of Descartes is, therefore, either un- reasonable, or it is too unconditionally expressed. And this latter alternative ^s true. What can be rationally required of the student of philo- sophy, is not a preliminary and absolute, but a gradual and progressive abrogation, of prejudices. It can only be required of him, that, when, in the coarse of his study of philosophy, he meets with a proposition which has not been already sufficiently sifted, — (whether it^ has been elaborated as a principle or admitted as a conclusion), — he should pause, discuss it with out prepossession, and lay aside for future cozwideration all that has not been subjected to a searching scrutiny. The precept of Descartes, when rightly explained, corresponds to that of St. Paul : " If any man among you seemeth to be wise jui thii world, let him become a fool, that he may be wise ;" that is, let him not rely more on the opinions in which h# has been brought up, and in favor of wljioh he and thofie around him are prejudiced, than on so many yiaioiui of imagio^tipn ; and let him examine them with U^ A gradual »nd pro- gresalTe abrogation di preJudioM all that can be required of the student of philo- aophy. »e MODIFIED LOGIC. Far.V.n. Sowret of Error arisinc from the powon of Oognitioa, Ff oUag, •*ad Dpsir*,— of two kinds. same circumspection as if he were assured that they contain some truth among much falsehood and many extravagances. Proceeding now to the second class of the Sources of Error, which are found in the Mind itself, I shall commence with the following paragraph : ^ V. The Sources of Error which arise from the Constitution, Habits, and Keciprocal Relations of the powers of Cognition, Feeling, and Desire, may be sub- divided into two kinds. The first of these consists in the undue prepon- derance of the Affective Elements of mind (the Desires and Feelings) over the Cognitive ; the second, in the weakness or inordinate strength of some one or other of the C(^nitive Faculties themselves. Affection is that state of mind in which the Feelings and Desires exert an influence not under the control of reason ; in other words, a ten- dency by which the intellect is impeded in its endeavor to think an object as that object really is, and compelled to think it in con- formity with some view prescribed by the passion or private interest of the subject thinking. The human mind, when unruffled by passion, may be compared to a calm sea. A calm sea is a on ttM^nd. ^" ^^^'^ mirror, in which the sun and clouds, in which the forms of heaven and earth, are reflected back precisely as they are presented. But let a wind arise, and the smooth, clear surface of the water is lifted into billows and agitated into foam. It no more re- flects the sun and clouds, the forms of heaven and earth, or it reflects them only as distorted and broken images. In Explication. L Prepondorance pf Affection over Cognition. ▲FTEOTIONS — PBECIPITANCT. wtf like manner, the tranquil mind receives and reflects the world without as it truly is ; but let the wind of passion blow, and every object is represented, not as it exists, but in the colors and aspects and partial phases in which it pleases the subject to i«gard it. The state of passion and its influence on the Qognitive Faculties are truly pictured by Boethius : — BoethiuB quoted. " Nvbibui atria Condila nuUum Fundere possunt Sidera lumen. Si mare volvens Ttirbidua auster Miaceat cettum, VUrea dudum, Cemere verum, Tramite recto Odrpere callem: Oattdia pdle^ Pelle Hmoremf Parqueterenu UndadiebuSt Moz reaoltUo Sordida eanOf yiiibui obstai. Tu quoqu€ « vi$ Lumine daro iSpemque /ugcUOf I^ec dohr odHt, NtMla iN«fi« vitf ViHctaque/reni9, Hoc uli regnant. " Error limited to PmbeUf Beuonlng. Every error consists in this, — ^that we take something for non-existent, because we have not. become aware of its existence, iM^id that, in place of this existent something, we fill up the premises of a probable reasoning with something else. I have here limited the possibility of error to Probable Beasoning, for, in Intuition and Demonstration, there is but Uttle Possibility of important error. Hobbes intJeed asserts that had it been contrary to the interest of those in author- ity, that the three angles of a triangle should be equal to two right angles, this truth would have been long ago pro- fiQribed as heresy, or as high treason. This may be an ingenious illustration of the blind tendency of the passions to subjugate intelligence ; but we should take it for more than 8d UOBIFIED LOGIC. was intended by its author, were we to take it as more than an ingenious exaggeration. Limiting, therefore, error to probable inference (and this constitutes, with the exception of a comparatively small department, the whole domain of human reasoning), we have to inquire, How do the 'Passions influence us to the aesumption of false premises? To estimate the amount of probability for or against a given proposition, requires a tranquil, an unbiassed, a com- prehensive consideration, in order to take all the relative elements of judgment into due account. But thii; requisite state of mind is disturbed when any interest, any wish, is allowed to interfere. IT TI. ^e disturbing Passions may be reduced to .^ _ ^ four : Pref^ipitancy, Sloth, Hope and Pw. Vl. Tli« PJU- a ^J'^ ■ioiis,assoiircMof Fear, Self-love. Error,-.i«dao«d ^ ^o^ ^ restless anxiety for a decision ^ Umbt. begets impatience, which decides be- fore the preliminary inquiry is concluded. This is precipitancy. 2**, The same result is the effect of Sloth, which dreams on in conformity to rnstom, without subjecting its beliefs to the tesi of active observation. 3", The restlessness of Hope or Fear impedes obser- vation, distracts attention, or forces it only on what interests the passion ; — ^th^ sanguine looking on only whr.t harmonizes' with his hopes, the diffident only on what accords with his fears. 4**, Self-love perverts our estimate of probability by causing us to rate the grounds of judgment, not according to their real influence on the truth of the decision, but according to their bearing on our personal interests therein. AFPECTIOKS — PRKOIPITANCT. 89 Seoj^oa. Eranuus. In regard to Impatience or Pi'ecipitation, — "all is the cause of this which determines our choice 1. Precipitancy. gination excites p^e&sure, and because it excites pleasure we yield ourselves up t{M*oven)ent ; for he who entertains it, thinks there is no necessity to labor to become what he is already. •'! believe," says Seneca, *' that many had it in their power to have attained to wisdom, had they not been impeded by the belief that wisdom they had already attained^ 'Multos puto ad capientiam potuiase pervenire, nm putasg&nt se pervenisse.* " Erasmus gi\'es the following as the principal advice to a young votary of learning in the conduct of his studies : " To read the most learned books, to converse with th«> most learned men ; but, above all, never to conceit that he himself was learned." " From the same cause, men flatter themselves with the hope of dying old, although few attain to longevity. T^e less probable the event, the more certain are they of its occurrence ; and why t Because the imagination of it is agreeable. * Decrepiti senea paucorum annorwm acceaaionem votia mendicant ; minorea natu aeipaoa eaae Jingnnt ; mendacio sibi hlandiuntur ; et tarn libenter /alltmt, quam aifata una decipiant* " *' Preachers," says Montaigne, " are aware that the emotion which arises From Montidj^e. during their sermons animates themselves to belief, and ■> are conscious that yfh&a. roused to angw we apply ourseiot more intently to the defence ofjjur Olustrationa. Frmn SeuM*. 90 MODIFIED LOG 10. thesis, and embrace it with greater vehemence and appro- bation, than we did when our mind was cool and unruffled. You simply state your case to an advocate ; he replies with hesitation and doubt ; you are aware that it is indifferent to him whether he undertakes the defence of the one side or of the other ; but have you once fee'd him well to taka your case in hand ; he begins to feel an interest in it ; his will is animated. His reason and his science become also animated in proportion. Your case presents itself to his understanding as a manifest and indubitable truth ; he now sees it in a wholly different light, and really believes that you have law and justice on your side." It is proper to obswve that Montaigne was himself a lawyer, — he had been a counsellor of the Parliament of Bordeaux. It might seem that Precipitate Dogmatism and an incli- nation to Skepticism were opposite cha- racters of m ind. They are, however, closely allied, if not merely phases of the same disposition. This is indeed confessed by the Skeptic Montaigne : " The most un- easy condition for me is to be kept in suspense on urgent oocasions, and to be agitated betwe«a fear and hope. Deli- beration, even in things of lightest moment, is very trouble- some to me ; and I find my mind more put to it, to undergo the various tumbling and tossing of doubt and consultation, than to set up its rest, and to acquiesce in whatever shall happen, after the die is thrown. Few passions break my sleep ; but of deliberations, the least disturbs me." Precipitation is no incurable disease. There is for it one sure and simple remedy, if properly applied. It is only required, to speak with Confucius, manfully to restrain the tdld horse of precipitancy by the curb of consideration,-— PreolplUte Dogma- tism and Skepticism, phmaes of the nune dispotition. Remedy for Pred- pltAiUoau ▲F FECTI0N8 — PBBCIPITANCT. n to weigh tbe reasons of decision, each and all, in thv<) balance of cool investigation, not to allow ourselves to decide until a clear consciousness has declared these reasons to be true,— to be sufficient ; and, finally, to throw out of account the sufirages of self-love, of prepossession, of passion, and to admit only those of reflection, of experience, and of evi- dence. This remedy is certain and effectual. In theory it is satisfactory, but its practical application requires a moral resolution, for the acquisition of which no precept can be given. In the second place, ** Qloih. is likewise a cause of precipi- tation, and it deserves the more attention as it is a cause of error extremely frequent, and one of which we are ourselves less aware, and which is less notorious to 2. Sloth. others. We feel it fatiguing to continue an investigation, thw^ore we do not pursue it ; but as it is mortifying to think that we have labored in vain, we easily admit the flattering illusion that we have succeeded. By the influence of this disposition it often happens, that, after having rejected what first presented itself,— after having rejected a second time and a third time what subsequently turned up, because not sufficiently appliAble or certain, we get tired of the investigation, and perhaps put up with the fourth suggestion, which is not better, haply even worse, than the preceding ; and this simply because it has come into the mind when more exhausted and less scrupulous than it was at the commencement." " The volition of that man," says Seneca, " is often frustrated, who Seneok quoted. "^ . undertakes not what is easy, but who wishes what he undertakes to be easy. As ofte>i aa you attempt anything, compare together yourself, the end which you propose, and the means by which it is to be accomplished. d3 MODIFIED LOOIC. Ita remedy. 8. Hope and Fear. For the repentance of an unfinished work will make you rash. And here it is of consequence whether a man be of a fervid or of a cold, of an aspiring or of a humble, disposition." To remedy this failing it is necessary, in conformity with this advice of Seneca, to consult our foroesi and the time we can afford, and the diffi- culty of the subjects on which we enter. We ought to labor only at intervals, to avoid the tedium and disquiet consequent on unremitted application ; and to adjourn the consideration of any thought which may please us vehemently at the moment, until the prepossession in its favor has subsided with the animation which gave it birth. The two Causes of premat^'<;« judgment — the affections of Impatience and Sloth — ^^being considered, I pass on to the third principle of Fassiqp, by which the intellect is turned aside from the path of truth, — I mean the disturbing iniiuence of Hope and Fear. These passions, though reciprocally contrary, determine a similar effect upon the deliberations of the Understanding, and are equally unfavorable for the interest of truth. In forming a just oonclusion upon a question of probable reasoning, that is, where the grounds of decision are not few, palpable, and of determinate effect, — and such ques- tions may be said to be those alone on which differences of opinion may arise, and. are, consequently, those alone which require for their solution any high degree of observation and ingenuity, — in such questions hope and fear exert a very strong and a very unfavorable influence. In these questions it is requisite, in the first place, to seek out the premises ; and, in the second, to draw the conclusion. Of these requisites the first is the more important, and it is also by iar the more difficult. APFKCTIOHS —PRECIPITANCY, 93 How Hope Mid Fear operate unfavorably on the Understand- tag. by Kow the paJBsions of Hope and Fear operate severally to prevent the intellect from discovering all the elements of decision, which ought to be considered in forming a correct conclusion, and cause it to take into account those only -which harmonize with that conclusion to which the actuating passion is inclined And here the pas- sion operates in two ways. In the first place, it tends so to determine the associations of thought, that only those media of proof are suggested or called into consciousness, which support the conclusion to which the passion tends. In the second place, if the media of proof by which a counter con- clusion is supported are brought before the mind, still the mind is influenced by the passion to look on their reality with doubt, and, if such cannot be questioned, to undervalue their inferential importance ; whereas it is moved to admit, without hesitation, those media of proof which favor the conclusion in the interest of our hope or fear, and to ex- aggerate the cogency with which they establish this result. Either passicm looks exclusively to a single end, and exclu- sively to the means by which that single end is accom- plished. Thus the sanguine temperament, or the mind under the habitual predominance of hope, sees only and magnifies all that militates in favor of the wishftd-for con- summation, which alone it contemplates ; whereas the melancholic temperament, or the mind under the habitual predominance of fear, is wholly occupied with the dreaded issue, views only what tends to its fulfilment, while it ex- aggerates the possible into the probable, the probable into the certain. Thus it is that whatever conclusion we greatly hope or greatly fear, to that conclusion we are disposed to leap; and it has become almost proverbial, that men M XO))iriID LOGIC. lightly believe both what they wish, and what they dread, to be true. But the influence of Hope on our judgments, inclining us to find whaterer we wish to find, in so far as this arises from th« illuaicMi of SeiMove, is comprehended in this, — the fourth cause of error, — to whieh I now proceed. Self-love, under which I include the dispositions of Vanity, Pride, and, in general, all those which moline us to attribute an undue weight to those opinions in which we feel a personal interest, is by far the most extensive and influential in the way oi reason and truth. In virtue of this principle, whatever is our8 — whatever is adopted or patronized by us, whatever belongs to those to whom we are attached is either gratu- itously clothed with a character of truth, or its pretensions to be accounted true are not scrutinized with the requisite rigor and impartiality. I am a native of this country, and, therefore, not only is its history to me a matter of peculiar interest, but the actions and character of my countrymen, are viewed in a very different light from that in which they are regarded by a foreigner. I am bom and bred a member of a reli^ous sect, and because they constitute my creed, I find the tenets of this sect alone in conformity to the Word of God. I am the partisan of a philosophical doctrine, and am, therefore, disposed to reject whetever does not hai> monize with my adopted system. "It is Uie part of a philosopher," says Aristotle, " inasmuch as he is a philosopher, to subjugate self* love, and to refute, if contrary to truth, not only the opinions of his friends, but the doctrines which he himself may have professed." It is certain, however, that philosophei's — ^for philosophers are Aristotle,— his ftre- eept AFFECTIONS — PBIOIPITANCT. 95 Influence of Self-love on our opinions. mtstx — have been too often found to regulate their conduct by the same opposite principle. That man pretended to the name of philosopher, who scrupled not lUiutmUonsof the to declare that he would rather be in the wrong with Plato than in the right with his opponenb). "Gisbert Yoetius urged Mersennns to refute a work of Descartes' a year before the book appeared, and before he had himself the means of judging 'hether the opinions it' contained were right or wrong. A certain professor of philosophy in Padua came to Galileo, and requested that he would explain to him the meaning of the term paraUaacig ; which he wished, he said, to refnto, having heard that it was opposed to Aristotle's doctrine, touching the relative situation of the comets. * What !' answered Galileo, * you wigh to controvert a word the meaning of which you do not know !' Redi tells us that a sturdy Peripatetic of his acquaintance would never con- sent to look at the heavens through a telescope, lest he should be compelled to admit the existence of the new stars discovered bv Galileo and others. The same Redi informs us that he knew another Peripatetic, a staunch advocate of the Aristotlean doctrine of equivocal generation, (a doctrine, by the way, which now again divides the physiologists of Europe), and who, in particular, maintained that the green frogs which appear upon a shower come down with the rain, who would not be induced himself to select and examine one of these frogs. And why? Because he was unwilling to be convicted of his error, by Redi showing him the green matter in the stomach, and its feculse in the intestines of the animal." The spirit of the Peripatetic philosophy was, however, wholly misunderstood by these mistaken followers of Aristotle ; for a true Aristotelian is one who listens M UOriFIED LOGIC. Self -iove leads us to regard with favor the opinions of those to whom we are in any way Attached. rather to the voice of nature than to the precept of any master, and it is well expressed in the motto of the great French anatomist — Riolanua eat Peripa6eticut> ; credit ea, ti ta tarUwmy q*%a^ vidit. £rom the same principle proceeds the abuse, and sometimes even the persecution, which the discoverers of new truths encounter frcjoi those who cherished opinions these truths subvert. In like manner, as we are disposed to maintain our own opinion,* we are inclined to regard with favor the opinions of those to whom we are attached by love, graticude, and other con- ciliatory affections. " We do not limit our attachment to the persons of our friends, — we love in a certain sort all that belongs to them ; and as men generally manifest sufilcient ardor in support of their opinions, we are led insensibly by a kind of sympathy to credj.t, to approve, and to defend these also, and that even iiore passionately than our friends themselves. Y.'e bear €iffection to others for various reasons. The agreement of temp^:%, of inclinations, of pursuits ; their appearance, their manners, their virtue, the partiality ^hich they have shown to us, the services we have received at their hands, and many other particular causes, determine and direct our love. " It is observed by the great Malebranche, that if any of our friends, — any even of those we are dis- du^'toTiI dr«^' ^^^ ^ love,— advance a» opinion, we forthwith lightly allow ourselves to be persuaded of its truth. This opinion we accept and support, without troubling ourselves to inquire whether it be con- formable to fact, frequently even against our dbnscience, in conformity to the darkness and confusion of our intellect^ to AFFECTIONS — PRECIPITANCY. 97 tke corruption of our heart, and to the advantages which ■we hope to reap from our facility and complaisance." The influence of this principle is seen still more manifestly when the passion changes ; for though the This «howB wpe- things themselves remain unaltered, our cially wheL the pas- sion change. judgments concerning them ' are totally reversed. How often do we behold persons who cannot, or will not, recognise a single good quality in an individual from the moment he has chanced to incur their dislike, and who are even ready to adopt opinions, merely fc-ecause opposed to others maintained by the object of their aversion? The celebrated Amauld AmauidhoidBthat g^gg g^ fg^ g^g^ ^g ^ assert, that men are man is naturally en- yious. naturally envious and jealous ; that it is with pain they endiire the contemplation of others in the enjoyment of advantages which they do not themselves possess ; and, as the knowledge of truth and the power of enlightening mankind is one of these, that they have a secret inclination to deprive them of that glory. This accordingly often determines them to controvert with- out a ground the opinions and discoveries of others. Self- love accordingly often argues thus : — ' This is an "opinion which 1 have originated, this is an opinion, therefore, which is true ;' whereas the natural malignity of man not less frequently suggests such another : ' It is another than I who has advanced this doctrine ; this doctrine is, therefore, falye.* We may distinguish, however, from malignant or envious contradiction another passion, which, * '*^* ^"" though more generous in its nature and not simply a mode of Self-love, tends, nevertheless, equally to divert us from the straight road of truth, — I mean Pugnacity, or the love of Disputation. 98 MODIFIED LOGIC. Under the influence of this passion, we propose as our end victory, not truth. We insensibly become accustomed to find a reason for any opinion, and, in placing ourselves above all reasons, to surrender our belief to none. Thus it is why two disputants so rarely ever agree, and why a question is seldom or never decided in a discussion, where the combative dispositions of the reasoners have once been roused in activity. In controversy it is always easy to find wherewithal to reply ; the end of the parties is not to avoid erroF) but to impose silence ; and they are less ashamed of continuing wrong than of confessing tiiat they are not right. These affections may be said to be the immediate causes of all error. Other causes there are, but not immediate. In so far as Logic detects the sources of our false judgments and shows their lemedies, it must carefully inculcate that no precautionary precept for particular cases can avail, unless the inmost principle of the evil be discovered, and a cure applied. You must, there- fore, as you would remain free from the hallucination of false opinion, be convinced of the absolute necessity of following out the investigation of evevy question calmly and without passion. You must learn to pursue, and to estimate, tru^h without distraction or bias. To this there is required, ai' a primary condition, the unshackled freedom of thought, the equal glance which can take in the whole sphere of observation, ihe cool determination to pursue the tiruth whithersoever it may lead ; and, what is still more important, the disposition to feel an interest in truth and in truth alone. If perchance some collateral interest may first prompt us to, the inquiry, in our general interest for Tbep« affection! the immediate causes of all error. Preliminaij eomcU- tions requisite for the effleieBcy o< pre- MptB agaiast tti* ■ourees of error. AFFECTIONS — PBECIPITANCT. 9d ay truth we must repress, — we must forget, this interest, until the inquiry be concluded. Of what account are the most venerated opinions if they be untrue? At best they are only venerable delusions. He who allows himself to be actuated in his scientiuc procedure by any partial interest, can never obtain a comprehenmve survey of the whole he has to take into account, and always, therefore, remains inct^ble of discriminating, witB^ accuracy, error firom truth. The independent thinker must, in all his inquiries, subject himself to the genius of truth, — must be pr^ared to follow her footsteps without faltering or hesitation. In the con- sciousness that truth is the nobledt of ends, and that he pursues this end with honesty and devotion, he will dread no consequences, — for he relies upon the truth. Does he compass the truth, he congratulates himself upon his success ; does he fall short of its attainment, he knows that even his present failure will ultimately advance him to the reward he merits. Err he may, and that perhaps fre- quently, but he will never deceive himself, We cannot, indeed, rise superior to our limitary nature, we cannot, therefore, be reproached for failure ; but we are always responsible for the calmness and impartiality of our re- searches, and these alone render us worthy of success. But though it be manifest, that to attain the truth we must follow whithersoever the truth may lead, still men in general are found to yield not an absolute, but only a re- stricted, obedience to the precept. They capitulate, and do not unconditionally surrender. I give up, but my cherished dogma in religion must not be canvassed, says one ; — my political principles are above inquiry, and must be ex- empted, says a second ; — my country is the land of lands, this cannot be disallowed, cries a third ; — my order, my 100 MODIFIKD VX3I0. ■gainst Brroni from th« Afftotioiu. vocation, is undoubtedly the noblest, exclaim a foui'th and fifth; — only do not require that we should confess our having erred, is the condition which many insist on stipu' lating. Above all, that resolve of mind is difficult, which is ready to surrender all fond convictions, and is prepared to recommence investigation the moment that a fundamental error in the former system of belief has been detected. These are the prinoipal grounds Why, among men, opinion is so widely separated from opinion ; and why the clearest demonstration is so frequently for a season frustrated of victory. Par. Yll. ■^M IT /II. Against the Errors which ariao' from the Affections, there may be given the three following rules : 1**, When the error has arisen from the influence of an active affection, the decisive judgment is to be annulled ; the mind is then to be freed, as far as pos- sible, from passion, and the process of inquiry to be recommenced as soon as the requisite tranquility has been restored. 2°, When the error has arisen from a relaxed en- thusiasm for knowledge, we must reanimate this interest by a vivid representation of the paramount dignity of truth, and of the lofty destination of our intellectual nature. 3", In testing the accuracy of our judgmients, we must be particularly suspicious of those results which accord with our private inclinations and predominant tendencies. These rules require no comment. WeaiuMM mnd Dla- proportionedStrength of the FaeulUm d, because it might be converted ; for, by the same one- sided process, the opposite conclusion might be drawn in favor of the absolute commencement of time. Now, the unilateral and incompetent reasoning which I have here sapposed in the ease of time, is one of which tlie Necessitarian is guilty in his argument to prove the impossibility of human volitions being free. He correctly lays down, as the foundation of his reason- ing, two propositions which must at once be allowed : 1°, That the notion of the liberty of volition involves the supposition of an absolute commencement of volition, that is, of a volition which is a cause, but is not itself, qua cause, an effect. 2°, That the absolute commence- ment of a volition, or of aught else, cannot be conceived, The same principle exemplified in the case of the Neces- sitarian Argument against the Freedom of the Hnmaa Will. 104 HODiFiED Locrra that is, cannot be directly or positively thought as possible. So far he in corr«ct ; but when he goes on to apply these principles by arguing (and be it observed this syllogism lies at the root of all the reasonings fox necessity), Whattoever . ia inconceivable is impoaaible ; but the supposition of the absolute commencement of volition is inconceivable ; there- fore, the supposition of the c^ohUe^ commencement ofvolitio» (the condition of free-will} is impossible, — we may her© demur to the sumption, and aak him, — Oem he positively conceive the opposite contradictory of the absolute oom^ mencement, that is, an infinite series of relative non- commencements ?^ If he answers, as he must, that he can not, we may again ask Mm, — By what ri^t he assumed as a self-evident axiom for his sumption^ the propositipn' — that whatever i» iiuxmceivaible i» impossible, or by what right h« could subsume his minor premise, when by his own con- fession he allows that the opposite contradictory- of his minor premise, that is» the very proposition he is apagogx- cally proving, is, likewise, inconceivable, and, therefore, on the principle of his sumption, likewise impossible. ^ The same inconsequence would equally apply tcr the Libertarian, who shoitld attempt to prove that free-will n»ust be allowed,, on th0 ground that its contradictory opposite is impossible, because inconceivable. He can- not prove his thesis by such a process ; in fact, by aH speculative reasoning fron^the conditions of thought, the two doctrines are in cequUihrio ;' — both are equally possible, — both are equally inconceivable. ' It is only when the Libertarian descends to ai"guments drawn from the fact of the Moral Law and its conditions, that he And fn the com of the libertariau Ar- gument in behalf of Freo-will. WEAKNESS OF FACULTIES OF KNOWLEDGE. }05 We&kneoa or dispro- portioned strength of the severftlOofnitiye Faoultias,— ft aouroe of Error. Cognitive Faculties of two clMses, ft Low- er ftod ft Higher. is able to throw in reasons whicL incline the balance in bis favor. On these mafctert; I, however, at present, only touch, in order to show you under -vhit head of lixror these reason- ings would naturally fall. Leaving, therefore, or adjourning, the consideration of the imbecility of the human intellect in general, I kkadl now take into view, as a source of logical error, the Weakness or Dispropoi'tioned Strength ci the sevoral Cognitive Faculties. Now^ as the Cogni- tive Faculties in man consist partly of certain Lower Powers, which he possesses in common with other sensible existences, namely, the Presentative, the Retentive, the Bepresentative and the Reproductive Faculties, and partly of certain higher Powers, in virtue of which he enters into the rank of in- telligent existences, namely, the Elaborative and Regulative Faculties, — it will be proper to consider the powers of these two classes severally in succession, in so far as they may afford the causes or occasions of error. Of the lower class, the first faculty in order is the Pre- sentative or Acquisitive Faculty. This, I. The LowerCiass, ^g you remember, is divided into two, viz., uleV^xmT^^ into the Faculty which presents us with the phenomena of the outer world, and into the faculty which presents us with the phenomena of the inner. The former is External Perception, or Eittemal Sense ; the latter is Self- consciousness, Internal Perception, or Internal Sense. I commence, therefore, with the Faculty of External Perception, in relation to which I give you the following pamgrajJi : 6* 10« MODiriBD LOOIO. Pw. yXI. (a) Bx- tarnal Paroeptioa,— ■• a aonroa ot Er. ror. IF VII. When aught is presented through the outer senses, there are two conditions ne- cessary for its adequate perception : — 1°, The relative Organs must be pre- sent, and in a condition to discharge th«ir functions ; and 2**, The objects themselves most bear a certain relation to these organs, so that the latter shall be suitably affected, and thereby the former suitably apprehended. It is possible, there- fore, that, partly through the altered condition of the organs, partly through the altered situation of the objects, dissimilar presentations of the same, and simi- lar presentations of different, objects, may be the result. In the ftr7!t place, without the organs specially subser- vient to External Perception, — without the eye, tho ear, etc., sensible perceptions of a precise and determinate character, such, for example, as color or sound, are not competent to man. In the second place, to perform their functions, these organs must be in a healthy or normal state ; for if this condition be not ful- filled, the presentations which they furnish are null, incom- plete, or false. But, in the third place, even if the organs of sense are sound and perfect, the objects to be presented and perceived must stand to these organs in a certain relation, — must bear to them a certain proportion; for, otherwise, the objects cannot be presented at all, or cannot be perceived without illusion. Tne sounds, for example, which we are to hear, must neither be too high nor too low in quality ; the bodies which we are to see, must neither be too near nor too distant, — must neither be too feebly nor too intensely iUifo^ii^ted, In relation to the second oonditioui lixplieatiim. OoncHtiaas of the adequate actiTlty of Extental Peroeption. WEAKKK88 07 PACULTIB8 07 KKOWLEDOE. 107 Ponible iUiuioai ol theS«nMi. there are given, in consequence of the altered state of the organs, on the one hand, different present- ations of the same object ; — thus to a person who has waxed purblind, his friend appears as an utter stranger, the eje now presenting its objects with less clearness and distinctness. On the other hand, there are given the same, or undistinguiidiabl j similar, presentations of different objects ; — thus to a person in the jaundice, all things are presented yellow. In relation to the third condition, from the altered position of objeott, there are, in like manner, determined, on the one hand, different presentations of the same objects,-- as when the stick which appears straight in the air appears crooked when partialij immersed in water ; and, on the other hand, identical presentations of different objects, as when a man and a hoese appear in the distance to be so similar, that the one cannot be diBeriminated from the other. In all these cases, these illuaons are determined, — illusions which maj easily become the occasions of false judgments. In regard to the detection of such illusions and obvlr ating the error to which the^ load, it be^- hooves us to taka the following precaur tiona. We must, ia the first place, examine the state of the organ. If found defective, we must endeavor to restoro it to perfeoi- tion ; but if this cannot be done, we must ascertain the extent and nature of the evil, in order to be upon our guard in r^ard to quality and degree of the false presentation. In the second place, we must examine the relative 4^ua? tion of the object, ai^d if this b^ not ^i^mmodated to the organ, yrff mu^l ^it)^er job7iat0 tKe d^p^po^^p and FraoMitions with * view to tlie detection of iUtariom of the 8en8e8,aiid obviatlag the errors to whildi therjleftO. 108 MODIFIED LOGIC. remove the media which occasion the illusion, or repeat the observation under dififei'ent circumstances, compare these, and thus obtain the means of making an ideal abstraction of the dii^urbing causes. In regard to the other Presentative Faculty, — the Faculty of Self-consciousness, — Internal Perception, or In- ternal Sense, as we know leas of the material conditions which modify iUt action, we are unable to ascertain so pre- cisely the nature of the illusions of "^ bich it may be the source. In reference to thia subject you may take the following paragraph : V YIII. The fietcalty of Self-cooBciousness, or Internal Sense, is subject to Tarious changes, Mr.vIZX. - sioned, Self-consciousness is a source of error. It is a matter of cntliiiary observation, that the vivacity with whioi. we are conscious of the various Explication. phenomena oi mind, differs not only at tJ'^ta^^^ different times, in different states of health, and in different degrees of mental fresh- ness and exhaustion, but, at the same time, differs in regard to the different kinds of these phenomena themselves. Ac* oording to the greater or less intensity c^ this faculty, the ■ame thoughts of which we are oonseious are, at one time, clear and distinct, at another, obscure and confused. Ai one time we are almost wholly incapable of reflection, and every act of self attenticm is forced and irksome, and differ- ences ike most marked pass unnoticed ; while, at another our self-consciousness is alert, all its applications pleasing,' it WEAKMBSS OF FACULTIES OF KMOWLEDOB. 109 g.* and the raost faint and fugitive phenomena arrested and observed. On one occasion, Self-consciousness, as a re- flective cognition, is strong ; on another, all reflection is extinguished in the intensity of the direct consciousness of feeling or desire. In one state of mind onr representations are feeble ; in another, they are so lively that they ^rt» mig. taken for external realities. Our self-consciousneaB may thus be the occasion of frequent error ; for, according t.o its various modifications, we may fotm the most opposite judgments concerning the same things, — pronouncing them, for example, now to be agreeable, now to be disagreeable, according as our Internal Sense is variously affected. The next is the Ketentive or Conservative Faculty, — Memoiy strictly so called ; in reference to which I give you the following paragi*aph : It IX. Memory, or the Conservative Faculty, is the occasion of Error, both when tco weak and when too strong. When too weak, the complem«mt of cogni- tions which it retains ..is small and indistinct, and the Understanding or Blaborative Faculty is, consequently, unable adequately to judge concerning the similarity and difierences of its re- presentations and concepts. When too strong, the Understanding is ov^whelmed with the multitude of acquired cognitions simultaneously forced upon it, so that it is unable calmly and delibecately to compare and disciiminate thrae. That both these extremes, — that both the insufficient and the superfluous vigor of the Conservative Faculty are severally the sources of Error, it will not require many observations to make apparent. Par. IZ. a. Mem- ory.— u a lonro* •f Bmr. Ezplioation. 110 MODIFIED LOGia Feeble Memory. In regard to a feeble memory, it is manifest that a multi- tude of false judgments must inevitably arise from an incapacity in this faculty to preserve the observations committed to its keeping. In consequence of this incapacity, if a cognition be not wholly lost, it is lost at least in part, and the circumstances of time, place, persons and things confounded with each other. For eicarople, — I may recollect the tenor of a passage 1 have read, but from defect of memory may attribute to one author what really belongs to another. Thus a botanist may judge two different plants to be identical in species, having for- gotten the differential characters by which they were dis- criminated ; or he may hold the same plant to be two different species, having examined it at different times and places. Though nothing «ad ^rerwhelm the principal faculty with materials, many aven in proportion as it is able to elaborate few. This appears to me the reason why men of strong memories aro so often men of proportionally v/eak judgments, and why so many errors arise from the posses- sion of a faculty, the perfection of which ought to exempt them from many mistaken judgments. As to the remedy for these opposite extremes. The former- the imbecility of memory — can only be alleviated by invigorating the ca- pacity of Retention through mnemonic exercises and methods ; the latter, — the inordinate vigor of Memory, — by cultivating the Understanding to the neglect of the Conservative Faculty. It will, likewise, be necessary to be upon our guard agairst the erit>rs originating in these Remedies for theae oi^MMite extreiuet. 112 MODIFIED LOGIC. 8. The Reproductive Faetilty. counter sources. In the one case distrusting the accuracy of facta, in the other, the accuracy of their elaboration. The next faculty is the Reproductive. This, when its operation is voluntarily exerted, is called Recollection or Reminiscence; when it energizes sponta- neously or without volition, it is called Suggegtion. The laws by which it is governed in either case, but especially in the latter, are called the Laws 0/ Mental' Association. Thk Reproductive Faculty, like the Retentive, is the cause of error, both if its vigor be defective, or if it be too strong. I shall consider Recollection and Suggestion severally and apart. In regard to the former I give you the following paragraph. % X. The Reproductive Faculty, in so far as it is voluntarily exercised, as Reminis- Par. X. (a) Rania- cence, becomes a source of Error, as iaoenee— aaasonroe ... , . , of Error. ^* ^^ ©ithcr too sluggish or too pi-ompt, precisely as the Retentive Faculty, combined with which it constitutes Memory in the looser signification. It is necessary to say very little in special- reference to Reminiscence, for what was said in regard Explication. ^ the Conservative Faculty or Memory Reminiscence,— Iti _, ••xt-i^- i-ii undue activity. Proper in Its highest vigor, was applicable to, and in fact supposed a corresponding degree of, th« Reproductive. For, however great may be the mass of cognitions retained in the mind, that is, out of consciousness, but potentially capable of being called into consciousness, these can never of themselves oppress the Understanding by their simultaneous crowding or rapid succession, if the faculty by which they are revoked into consciousness be inert ; whereas if this revocative faculty WEAKNESS OF FACULTIES OF KNOWLEDGE. Its Its inactivity. be comparatively alert and vigorous, a smaller magazine of retained cognitions may suffice to harass the intelle(jt with a ceaseless supply of maleri^Js too profuse for ita capacity of elaboration. On the other hand, the inactivity of our Recollection is a source of error, precisely as the weakness of our Memory proper; for it is of the same effect in relation to our judgments, whether the cogni- tions requisite for a decision be not retained in the mind, or whether, being retained, ey are not recalled into con- sciousness by Reminiscence. In regard to Suggestion, or the Reproductive Faculty opei*ating spontaneously, that is, not in subBei*vience to an act of Will, — ^I shall give you the following paragraph : HT XI. As our Cognitions, Feelings, and Desires are connected together by what are Par. XI. (b) Sag- called the Laws of Association, and Mgtion — uasowfiff of Error. 8« each link in the chain of thought suggests or awakens into conscious- ness some other in conformity to these Laws, — these Laws, as they bestow a strong subjective connection on thoughts and objects of a wholly arbitrary union, frequently occasion great confusion and error in our judgments. Even in methodical thinking, we do not connect all our thoughts intentionally and rationally, but many press forward into the train, either in consequence of some external impression, or in virtue of certain internal relations, which, however, are not of a logical dependency. Thus thoughts tend to suggest each other, which have reference to things of which we were previously cognizant as coexistent, or as immediately oon- £x|dic«ii<». 114 MODIFIED LOGIC. sequent, which have been apprehended as bearing a resem- blance to each other, or which have stood together in reciprocal and striking contrast. This connection, though precarious and non-logical, is thus, however, governed by certain laws, which have been called the Laws of Association. These laws, which I have just enumerated, viz., the Law of Coexistence or Simultaneity, the Law of Continuity or Immediate Succession, the Law of Similarity, and the Law of Contrast, are all only special modifications of one general law, which I would call the Law of Redintegration ; that is, the principle according to which whatever has previously formed a part of one total act of consciousness, tends, when itself recalled into consciousness, to reproduce along with it the other parts of that original whole. But though these tendencies be denominated lavos^ the influence which they exert, though often strong and sometimes irresistible, is only contingent ; for it frequently happens that thoughts which have previously stood to each other in one or other of the four relations do not suggest each other. The Laws of Association stand, therefore, on a very different footing from the laws of logical connection. But those Laws of Associ- ation, contingent though they be, exert a great and often a very pernicious influence upon thought, inasmuch as by the involuntary intrusion of representations into the mental chain which are wholly irrelevant to the matter in hand, there arises a perplexed and redundant tissue of thought, into which false characters may easily find admission, and in which true characters may easily be overlooked. But this is not all. For, by being once blended together in our con- Bciousness, things really distinct in their nature tend again caturally to reassociate, and, at every repetition of this WEAKNESS OF FACULTIES OF KNOWLEDGE. 115 conjunction, this tendency is fortified, and their mutnal Btiggestion rendered more certain and irresistible. It is in virtue of this principle of Association and Custom, that things are clothed by us with the pre- Influence of Asso- carious attributes of deformity or beauty : ciatlon in matters of , i .1 i i . q^te. ftiid some philosophers have gone so tar as to maintain that our principles of Taste are exclusively dependent on the accidents of Association. But if this be an exaggerati(m, it is impossible to deny that Association enjoys an extensive jurisdiction in the empire of taste, and, in particular, that fashion is almost wholly subject to its control. On this subject I may quote a few sentences from the first volume of Mr. Stewart's Elements. " In Stewart quoted. matters of Taste, the enects which ve consider are produced on the mind itself, and are accom- panied either with pleasure or with pain. Hence the tendency to casual association is much stronger than it commonly is with respect to physical events ; and when such associations are once formed, as they do not lead tc any important inconvenience, similar to those which resiidt from physical mistakes, they are not so likely to be corrected by mere experience, unassistad by study. To this it is owing that the influence of association on our judgments concerning beauty and deformity, is still more remarkable than on our speculative conclusions ; a circumstance which has led some philosophers to suppose that association is sufficient to account for the origin of these notions, and that there is no such thing as a standard of taste, founded on the principles of the human constitution. But this is un- doubtedly pushing the theory a great deal too far. The association of id^ts can never account for the origin of « 116 MODIFIED LOGIC. new notion, or of a pleasure essentially different from all the others which we know. It may, indeed, enable us to conceive how a thing indifferent in itself may become a source of pleasure, by being connected in the mind with something else which is naturally agreeable ; but it pre- supposes, in every instance, the existence of those notions and those feelings which it is its province to combine ; inso- much that, I apprehend, it will be found, wherever associ- ations produce a change in our judgments on matters of taste, it does so by co-operating with some natural principle of the mind, and implies tl^ existence of certain original sources of pleasure and uneasiness. "A mode of dress, which at first appeared awkward, acquires, in a few weeks or months, the appearance of ele- gance. By being accustomed to see it worn by those whom we consider as models of taste, it becomes associated with the agreeable impressions which we I'eceive from the ease and grace and refinement of their manners. When it pleases by itself, the effect is to be ascribed, not to the object actually before us, but to the impressions with which it has been generally connected, and which it naturally recalls to the mind. " This observation points out the cause of the perpetual vicissitudes in dress, and in everything whose chief recom- mendation arises from fashion. It is evident that, as far as the agreeable effect of an ornauaent arises from association, the effect will continue only while it is confined to the higher orders. When it is adopted by the multitude, it not only ceases to be associated with ideas of taste and refinement, but it is associated with ideas of affectation, absurd imitation, and vulgarity. It is accoMingly laid aside by the higher orders, who studiously avoid every cir- WEAKNESS OF FACULTIES OF KNOWLEDGE. 117 it tnd oumstance in external appearance which is debased bj low and common use ; and they are led to exercise their inven' tion in the introduction of some new peculiarities, which first become fashionable, then common, and last of all^ are abandoned as vulgar. " Our moral judgments, too, may be modified, and even perverted to a certain degree, in consequence of the opera- tion of the same principle. In the same manner in which a person who is regarded as a model of taste may introduce, by his example, an absurd or fantastical dress ; so a man of splendid virtues may attract some esteem also to his im- perfections ; and, if placed in a conspicuous situation, may render his vices and follies objects of general imitation among the multitude. " * In the reigfn of Charles II.,* says Mr. Smith, ' a degree of licentiousness was deemed the characteristic of a liberal education. It was connected, according to the notions of those times, with generosity, sincerity, magnanimity, loyalty; and proved that the person who acted in this manner was a gentleman, and not a puritan. Severity of manners, and regularity of conduct, on the other hand, were altogether unfashionable, and were connected, in the imagination of that age, with cant, cunning, hypocrisy, and low manners. To superficial minds the vices of the great seem at all times agreeable. They connect them not only with the splendor of fortune, but with many superior virtues which they ascribe to their superiors ; with the spirit of freedom and independency ; with frankness, gene- rosity, humanity, and politeness. The virtues of the in- ferior ranks of people, on the contrary, — their parsimonious frugality, their painful industry, and ligid adherence to rules, seem to them mean and disagreeable. They connect \^ ' 118 MODIFIED LOGIC. them both with the meanness of the station to which these qualities commonly belong, and with many great vices which they suppose usually accompany them ; such as an abject, cowardly, ill-natured, lying, pilfering disposition.' " " In general," says Condillac, " the impression we experi- ence in the different circumstances of life, CondiUao quoted makes US associate ideas with a force which on the influence o' , , AjModation. renders them ever after for us indissoluble. We cannot, for example, frequent the society of our fellow-men without insensibly associating the notions of certain intellectual or moral qualities with certain corporeal characters. This is the reason why persons of a decided physiognomy please or displease us more than others ; for a physiognomy is only an assemblage of characters, with which we have associated notions wh ich are not suggested without an accompaniment of satisfaction or disgust. It is not, therefore, to be marvelled at that we judge men according to their physiognomy, and that we some- times feel towards them at first sight aversion or inclination. In consequence of these associations, we are often vehemently prepossc-ased in favor of certain individuals, and no less violently disposed against others. It is because all that strikes us in our friends oi* in our enemies is associated with the agreeable or the disagreeable feeling which we severally experience ; and because the faults of the former borrow always something pleasing from their amiable quali- ties ; whei-eas the amiable qualities of the latter seem always to participate of their vices. Hence it is that these associations exert a powerful influence on our whole con- duct. They foster our love or hatred ; enhance our esteem or contempt ; excite our gratitude or indignation ; and produce those sympathies, — those antipathies, or those WEAKNESS OF FACULTIES OP KNOWLEDGE. 119 capricious inclinations, for which we are sometimes sort-ly puzzled to render a reason. Descartes tells us that through life he had always found a strong predilection for squint eyes, — which he explains by the circumstance, that the nursery-maid by whom he had been kindly tended, and to whom as a child he was, consequently, much attached, had this defect" 'S Gravesande, I think it is, who tells us he knew a man, and a man otherwise of sense, who had a severe fall from a waggon ; and thereafter hd could never enter a waggon without fear and trembling, though he daily used, without apprehension, another and far more dangerous vehicle. A girl once and again sees her mother or maid fainting and vociferating at the appearance of a mouse ; if she 1 i afterwards to escape from danger, she will rather pass through flames than take a patent way, if obstructed by a ridiculus mns. A remarkable example of the false judgments arising from this principle of association, is re- corded bv Herodotus and Justin, in reference to the war of the Scythians with their slaves. The slaves, after they had repeatedly repulsed several attacks with arms, were incon- tinently put to flight when their masters came out against them with their whips. I shall now oflfer an observation in regard to the appro- priate remedy for this evil influence of Association The only mean by which we can become aware of, counteract, and overcome, this besetting weakness of our nature, is Philosophy, — the Philosophy of the Human Mind j and this studied both in the consciousness of the individual, and in the history of the species. The philosophy of mind, as studied in the con- sciousness of the individual, exhibits to us the source and Only remedy for the influence of As- sociation is the Phi* losophy of UieHumaQ Mind. 1^ UODIFIED LOOia nature of the illusion. It accustoms us to discriminate the casua], from the necessary, combinations of thought ; it isdiarpens and corroborates our faculties, encourages our reason to revolt against th« blind preformations of opinion, and finally enables us to break through the enchanted circle within which Custom and Association had enclosed us. But in the accomplishment of this end, we are greatly aided by the study of man under tho various circumstances which have concurred in modifying his intellectual and moral character. In the great spectacle of history, we behold in different ages and countries the predominance of different system!) of association, and these ages and countries are, consequently, distinguished by the prevalence of different systems of opinions. But all is not fluctuating ; and, amid the ceaseless changes of accidental circumstances and pre- carious beliefs, we behold some principles ever active, and some tiiiths always commanding a recognition. We thus obtain the means of discriminating, in so far as our unas- sisted reason is conversant about mere worldly concerns, between what is of universal and necessary certainty, and what is only of local and temporaiy acceptation ; and, in reference to the latter, in witnessing the influence of an arbitrary association iu imposing the most irrational opinions on our fellow-men, «t;r eyes are opened, and we are warned of the danger from the same illusion to ourselves. And as the philosophy of man affords us at once the indication and the remedy of this illusion, so the philosophy of man does this exclusively and alone. Our irrational aKsociations, our habits of groundless credulity and of arbitrary scepticism, find no medicine in the study of aught beyond the domain of mind itself. As Goethe has well observed, " Mathematics remove no WEAKNESS OP FACULTIES OF KNOWLEDGE. 121 lain no prejudice ; they cannot mitigate obstinacy, or temper party-spirit ;" in a word, as to any moral influence upon the mind, they are absolutely null. Hence we may well explain the aversion of Socrates for these studies, if carried boyond a very limited extent. The next faculty in order is the Kepresentative, or Imagination Proper, which consists in the The Representatlyo greater or loss power of holding up an Faculty, or Imagina- 7, ,,...*,,.,. - . tion Proper. ideal object in the light of consciousness. The energy of Representation, though dependent on Hetention and Reproduction, is not to be identified with these operations. For though these three functions (I mean Retention, Reproduction, and Represen- tation) immediately suppose, and are immediately dependent on each other, they ar^ still manifestly discriminated as different qualities of mind, inasmuch as they stand to each other in no determinate proportion. We find, for example, in some individuals the capacity of Retention strong, but the Reproductive and Representative Faculties sluggish and weak. In others, again, the Conservative tenacity is feeble, but the Reproductive and Representative energies prompt aiid vivid ; while in others the power of Reproduction may be vigorous, but what is recalled is never pictured in a clear and distinct consciousness. It will be generally, indeed, admitted, that a strong retentive memory does not infer a prompt recollection ; and still more that a strong memory and a prompt recollection do not infer a vivid imagination. These, therefore, though variously confounded by philoso- phers, we are warranted, I think, in viewing as elementary qualities of mind, which ought to be theoretically distin- guished. Limiting, therefore, the term Imagination to tho mere Faculty of Representing in a more or less vivacious ^ 122 ■ODirrED LOGIC. Replication. Neoessity of Imagi- iwtion in adentiflo punuiU. manner on ideal object, — this Faculty is the source of erroftf wMoh I shall comprise in the following paragraph. IT XII. Imagination, or the Faculty of Representing with more or less vivacity a recalled Par.zzi. 4. imagi> object of cognition, is the source of nation,— •■ a " Moro* of Brror. -Elrrors^ both when it is too languid and when it is too vigorous. In the former case, the object is respresented obscurely and indistinctly ; in the latter, the ideal representation afiEbrds the illusive a];^pearance of a sensible presentation. A strong imagination, that is, the power of holding up any ideal object to the mind in clear and steady colors, is a faculty necessary to the poet and to the artist ; but not to them alone. It is almost equally requisite for the successful cultivation of every scien- tific pursuit ; and, though diiSerently applied, and different in the character of its representation, it may well be doubted whether Aristotle did not possess as powerful an imagination as Homer. The vigor and perfection of this faculty is seen, not so much in the representation of individual objects and fragmentary sciences, as in the representation of systems. In the better ages of antiqriity the perfection, the beauty, of all works of taste, whether in Poetry, DTveiBe charactor- Eloquence, Sculpture, Painting, or Music, rttics of artfa andent , . „ . i «. , and modern ttmea. "^^^ principally estimated from the sym- metry or proportion of all the parts to each other, and to the whole which they together constituted ; and it was only in subservience to this general harmony that the beauty of the several parts was appreciated. In the criticiam.' of modern times, on the contrary, the reverse is true ; ^nd we are disposed to look more to the obtrusiye Weakness of faculties of knowledge. 1^3 "^t qualities of details, than to the keeping and unison of a whole. Our works of art are, in general, like kinds of assorted patch*work ; — not systems of parts all subdued in conformity to one ideal totality, but coordinations of inde- pendent fragments, among which a **purpureii8 pannvs '' seldom comes amiss. The reason of this difference in taste seems to be, what at first sight may seem the reverse, that in antiquity not the Reason but the Imagination was the more vigorous; — that the Imagination was able to represent simultaneously a more comprehensive system ; and thus the several parts being regarded and valued only as conducive to the general result, — these parts never obtained that indi- vidual importance, which would have fallen to them had they been' only created and only considered for themselves. Now this power of representing to the mind a complex system in all its bearings, is not less requisite to the philo- sopher than to the poet, though the representation be different in kind ; and the nature of the philosophic repre- sentations, as not oonci jte and palpable like the poetical, supposes a more arduous operation, and, therefore, even a more vigorous faculty. But Imagination, in the one case and in the other, requires in proportion to its own power a powerful intellect ; for :' magination is not poetry nor philo- sophy, but only the'condition of the one and of the other. But to speak now of the Errors which arise from the dis- Errora which hrise proportion between the 1 magination and -the Judgment ; they originate either in the weakness, or in the inordinate strength, of the former. In regard to the errors which arise from the imbecility of the Representative Fa- culty, it is not difficult to conceive how this imbecility from the dispropor- tion between Imo^ri- XAtfon and Judg- ment. Those arising from the weakness of Ima* gination. ' 124 MODIFIED LOOtC. may become a cause of erroneous judgment. The Ela- borative Faculty, in order to judge, requires an object, — requires ceHain differences to be given. Now, if the imagination be weak and languid, the objects rspresented by it will be given in such confusion and obscurity, that their differences are either null or evanescent, and judgment thus rendered either impossible, or possible only with the probability of error. In these ciicumstances, to secure itself from failure, the intellect must not attempt to rise above the actual presentations of sense ; it must not attempt any ideal analysis or synthesis, — it must abandon a|l free and self-active elaboration, and all hope of a successful cul- tivation of knowledge. Again, in regard to the opposite errors, those eCrising from the disproportioned vivacity of imagination, — these are eqtially apparent. In this case the renewed or newly-modified representa- tions make an equal impression on the mind as the original presentations, and are, consequently, liable to be mistaken for these. Even during the perception of real objects, a too lively imagination mingles itself with the observation, which it thus corrupts and falsifies. Thus arises what is logically called the vitium aubreptionis. This is frequently seen in those pretended observations made hy theorists i: t support of their hypotheses, in which, if even the possibility be left for imagination to interfere, imagination is sure to &\l up all that the senses may leave vacant. In this case the cb 'Ji vers are at once dup»3 and deceivers, in the words of Tacitus, " Fingunt stmul creduntque" . In regard to the remedies for these defeols of the Fepre- sentative Faculty j — in the former case, the only allevi- ation that can bo proposed for a feeble imagination, is to From its dlnpro- portienate vivacity. WE/ "NESS OP FACULTIES OF KNOWLEDGE. 125 Remedies for those defects of the Inuv- ginstion. animate it by the cont«mplfttion and study of those works of art which are the products of a strong Phantasy, and which tend to awaken in the student a corresponding energy of that faculty. On the other hand, a too power- ful imagination is to bo quelled and regulated by abstract thinking, and the study of philosophical, perhaps of matho" matical, science. The faculty which next follows, is the Elaborative Faculty, Comparison, or the Faculty of Belations. This is the Understanding, in its three functions of Conception, Judg- ment, and Keasoning. On this faculty take the following paragraph. IT XIII. The Affections and the Lower Cognitive Faculties afford the sources and occa- sions of error ; but it is the Elabora- tive Faculty, Understanding, Com- parison, or Judgment, which truly errs. This faculty does not, however, err from strength or over-activity, but from inaction ; and this inaction arises either from natural weakness, from want of exercise, or from the impotence of attention. Par. ZIII. 6. Bla- boratlTa Faonlty,— as a source of Er- ror. I formerly observed that error does not lie in the condi- tions of our higher faculties themselves, and that these faculties are not, by their own laws, determined to false judgments or conclusions : *' Nam neque decipUur ratio, nee decipitunquam.** If these were otherwise, all knowledge would be impossible, — the root of our nature would be a lie, " But in the application of the laws Explication. Error does not lie in the oonditiona of our Hltfher Faculties, but is possible in the ap- plication of the laws of those faculties to determinate cases. 126 MODIFIED LOGIC. ir of our higher faculties to determinate cases, many errors are possible ; and these errors may actually be occasioned by a variety of circumstances. Thus, it is a law of our intelli- gence, that no event, no plienomenon, can be thought as absolutely beginning to be ; we cannot but think that all its constituent elements had a virtual existence prior to their concurrence, to necessitate its manifestation to us ; we are thus unable to accord to it more than a relative commencement, in other words, we are con- strained to look upon it as the effect of antecedent causes. Now though the law itself of our intelligence — that a cause there is for every event — be altogether exempt from "sTror, yet in the application of this law to individual cases, that is, in the attribution of detenjiinate causes to determinate effects, we are easily liable to go wrong. For we do not know, except from experience and induction, what particular antecedents are the causes of particular con- sequents ; and if our knowlem the different habits which are determined by the differences of sex, of age, of bodily constitution, of education, of rank, of fortune, of profession, of intellectual pursuit. Of these, howev^, it is impossible at present to attempt an tmalysis ; and I shall only endeavor to afford you a few specimens, and to refer you for information in regard to the others to the best sources. Intellectual pursuits or favorite studies, inasmuch as these determine the mind to a one-sided cultiva- tion, that is, to the neglect of some, and to the disproportioned development of other, of its faculties, are among the most remarkable causes of error. ^ This partial or one-sided cultivation is exemplified in three different phases. The first of these is shown in the exclusive cultivation of the powers of Observation, to the neglect of the higher faculties of the Understanding. Of this type are your men of physical science. In this department of Selected examples of these. A one-sided culti- vation of the in^Ueo- tual powers. This exemplified in three different pha- ses. Exclusive culti- vation. 1. 0< the powers of Observa- tion. WEAKNESS OF FACULTIES OF KNOWLEDGE. 129 knowledge thei*e is chiefly demanded a patient habit of attention to details, in order to detect phenomena, and, these discovered, their generalization is usually so easy that there is little exercise afforded to the higher energies of Judgment and Reasoning. It was Bacon's boast, that Induction, as applied to nature, would equalize all talents, level the aris- tocracy of genius, accomplish marvels by cooperation and method, and leave little to be done by the force of individual intellects. This boast has been fulfilled. Science has, by the Inductive Process, been brought down to minds, who previously would have been incompetent for its'cultivation, and physical knowledge now usefully occupies many who would otherwise have been without any rational pursuit. But the exclusive devotion to such studies, if not combined with higher and graver speculations, tends to wean the student from the more vigorous efforts of mind, which, though unamusing and even irksome at the commencement, tend, however, to invigorate his nobler powers, and to pre- pare him for the final fruition of the highest happiness of his intellectual nature. A partial cultivation of the int«llect, opposite to this, is given in the excbisive cultivation of Meta- 2. Of Metaphysics, physics and of Mathematics. On this 8. Of Mathematics. , . ^ t - Stewart referred to. Subject I may refer you to some observa- tions of Mr. Stewart, in two chapters entitled The Metaphysician, and The Mathematidany in the third volume of his UlemerUa of the PhUosophy of the Human Mind, — chapters distinguished equally by their candor and their depth of observation. On this subject Mr. Stewart's authority is of the highest, inasmuch as he was distinguished in both the departments of knowledge, the tendency of which he so well develops. 7* LECTURE v.— MODIFIED STOICHEIOLOGY. SECTION IT.— EREOR -ITS CAUSES AND REMEDIES. C— LANGUAGE.— D.— OBJECTS OF KNOWLEDGE. ni. Language,— as a source of Error. In my last Lecture, I concluded th6 survey of the Errors which have their origin in the conditions and circumstances of the several Cognitiv? Faculties, and now proceed to that source of false judgment which lies in the imperfection of the Instru- ment df thought and Communication, — ^I mean Language. Much controversy has arisen in regard to the question, — Has man invented Language) But the Has man invented differences of opuiioii > ,ve in a great Language? Ambigu- . i* -x ity of the question. measure arisen from the ambiguity or complexity of the terms, in which the problem has been stated. By language we may mean either the power which man possesses of associating his thought with signs, or the particular systems of signs with which different portions of mauMnd l^aye actually so associated their thoughts. LANGUAGE — OBJECTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 131 t r e r t 1 i Taking language in the former sense, it is a natural faculty, an original tendency of mind, and. In what sense Lan- jj^ ^jjjg yiow, man has np more invented ypi fii., language than he has invented thought. In fact, the power of thought and the power of language are equally entitled to be considered ai elementary qualities of intelligence ; for while they are so different that they cannot be identified, they are still so reciprocally necessary that the one cannot exist without the other. It is true, indeed, that presentations and represent- ations of given individual objects might have taken place, although there were no. signs with which they were mentally connected, and by which they could be overtly expressed ; but all complex and £&ctitious constructions out of these given individual objects, in other words, all notions, con- cepts, general ideas, or thoughts proper, would have been impossible without an association to certain signs, by which their scattered elements might be combined in unity, and their vague and evanescent existence obtain a kind of definite and fixed and palpable reality. Speech and cogi- tation are thus the relative conditions of each other's activity, and both concur to the accomplishment of the same joint result. The Faculty of Thinking — the Faculty of forming General Notions — being given, this necessarily tends to energy, but the energy of thinking depends upon the co- activity of the Faculty of Speech, which itself tends equally to energy. These faculties, — these tendencies,— tho^e enLer- gies, thus coexist and have alw^y coexisted ; and the result of their combined action is thought in language, and lan- guage in thought. So much for ihe origin of Language, considered in general as a faculty. laa MOX>IF JOIC. But, though the Faci sary, tiiut Wu ih« first, lan- guage, actually spo- ken, the invention of man, or an inspira- tion of the Deity? The latter hypo- thesis considered. Speech be natural and neces- ita manifestatioDS are, to a certain extent, contingent and artificial, is evident from the simple fact, that there are more than a single language actually spoken. It may, therefore, be asked — Was the first language, actually spoken, the invention of man, or aii inspiration of the Deity 1 The latter hypothesis cuts, but does not. loose th3 knot. It declares that ordinary causes and the laws of nature are insufficient to explain the phenomenon, but it does not prove this insufficiency ; it thus violates the rule of Parcimony, by ^o«tulating a second and hypothetical cause to explain an affect, which it is not ' shown cannot be accounted for without this violent assump* tion. The first and greatest difficulty in the question is thus : — ^It is necessary to think in order to invent a language, and the invention of a language is necessary in order to think j for we cannot think without notions, and notions are only fixed by words. This can only be solved, as I have said, by the natural attraction between thought and speech,^-— by their secret affinity, which is such that they suggest and, pari passu, accompany each other. And in regard to the question, — ^Why, if speech be a natural faculty, it does not manifest itself like other natural principles in a uniform manner,^'-^it may be answered that the Faculty of Speech is controlled and modified in its exercise by external circum> stances, in consequence of which, though itg exertion be natural and necessary, and, therefore, identical in^ all men, the special forms of its exertion are in a great degree, con- DifRculty question. of the •mi LANGUAGE— OBJECTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 133 ventional and contingent, and, therefore, different among different pc/dons of mankind. Considered on one side, languages are the results of our intelligence and its immutable laws. In Language has a consequeuce of this, they exhibit in their general and a special oharaoter. progress and development resemblances and common characters which allow us to compare and to recall them to certain primitive and essential forms, — to evolve a system of Universal Qrammar. Considered on another side, each language is the offspring of particular wants, of special circumstances, physical and moral, and of chance. Hence it is that every language has particular forms as it has peculiar words. Language thus bears the impress of human intelligence only in its general outlines. There is, therefore, to be found reason and phi- losophy in all languages, but we should be ''vrong in be- lieving that reason and philosophy have, in any language, determined everything. No tongue, how perfect soever it may appear, is a complete and perfect No language is a instrument of human thought. From its perfect instrument of ... , , , thought "^®^y conditions every language must be imperfect. The human memory can only pompass a limited complement of words, but the data of ^ense, and still more the combinations of the understanding, are wholly unlimited in number. No language can, there- fore, be a4e(|uate to the ends for which it exists ; all are imperfect, bi|t sqme are far less incompetent instruments than others. From what has now been said, you will be prepared to find in Language one of the principal sources of Error ; but before I go on to consider the particular modes in which the Imperfections of Languagp fire the causes of false 134 MODIFIED LOGIC. Far. XIV. Lan- fuagr,— •■ a aoaro« of Error. judgments, — I shall comprise the general doctrine in the following paragraph : IT XIV. As the human mind necessarily requires the aid of signs to elaborate, to fix, and to communicate it« notions, and as Articulate Sounds are the species of signs which most efiectually afford this aid, Speech is, therefore, an indispensable instru- ment in the higher functions of thought and knowledge. But as speech is a necessary, but not a perfect, instru- ment, its imperfection must react upca the mind. For the Multitude of Languages, the Difficulty of their Acquisition, their necessary Inadequacy, and the con- sequent Ambiguity of Words, both singly and in com- bination, — these are all copious sources of Illusion and Error. We have already sufficiently considered the reason why thought is dependent upon some system of signs or symbols both for its internal per- fection and external expression. The analyses and syntheses, — the decomposi- tions and compoHitions, — in a word, the elaborations, pei-formed by the Understanding \ipon the objects presented by External Perception and Self-Conscious- ness, and represented by Imagination, — these operations are faint and fugitive, and would have no existence, even for the conscious mind, beyond the moment of present con- sciousness, were we jiot able to connect, to ratify, and to fix them, by giving to their parts (which would otherwise immediately fall asunder) a permanent unity, by associating them with a sensible symbol, which we may always recall at pleasure, and which, when recalled, recalls along with it the Explication. Signs necessary for the internal opera- tion of Tliought LANOUAOB — OBJECTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 136 le And for the commu- nication of Tliought. characters which concur i.i constituting a notion or factitious object of intelligence. ?o far signs are necessary for the internal operation of thought itself. But for the communi- cation of thought from one mind to another, signs are equally indispensable. For in itself thought is knOVm, — thought it is knowable, only to the thinking mind itself; and were we not enabled to connect certain complements of thought to certain sensible symbols, and by thoir means to suggest in other minds those complements of thought of which we were conscious in ourselves, we should never be able to communicate to others what engaged our interest, and man would remain for man, if an intelligence at all, a mere isolated intelligence. In regard to the question, — ^What may these sensible symbols be, by which we are to compass such memorable effects, — it is needless to show that mien and gesture, which, to a certain extent, afford a kind of natural expression, are altogether inadequate to the double purpose of thought and communication, which it is here required to accomplish. This double purpose can be effected only by symbols, which express, through intonations of the voice, what is passing in the mind. These vocal intonations are either inarticulate or arti- culate. The former are mere sounds or cries ; and, as such, an expression of the feelings of which the lower animals are also capable. The latter constitute words, HowLan^ is a ^^^ these, as the expression of thoughts or source of Error. -g| notions, Constitute Language Proper or Speech. Speech, as we have said, as the instrument of elaborating! fixing, and communicating oui Intonationa of the voice the only ade- quate sensible sym- bols of thought and its communication. These inarticulate •nd articulate. The latter constitute Language Proper. 136 MODIFIED LOGIC. thoughts, ia a principal mean of knowledge, and even the indispensable condition on which depends the exercise of our higher cognitive faculties. But, at the same time, in consequence of this very dependence of thought upon lan- guage, inasmuch as language is itself not perfect, the under- standing is not only restrained in its operations, and its higher development, consequently, checked, but many occa- sions are given of positive error. For, to say nothing of the impediment presented to the free communication of thought by the multitude of tongues into which human language is divided, in consequence of which all speech beyond their mother-tongue is incomprehensible to those who do not make a study of other languages, — even the accurate learning of a single language is attended with such difiit ilties, that perhaps there never yet has been an individual who was thoroughly acquainted with all the words and modes of verbal combination in any single language, — his mother- tongue even not excepted. But the circumstance of prin- _^ . . cipal importance is, that how copious and The amblsruity of ^ / ^ words the principal expressive soever it may be, no language ■ouree of error origi- ig competent adequately to denote all pos-" Dating in Language. . , . Bible notions, and all possible relations of notions, and from this necessary poverty of language in all its different degrees, a certain inevitable ambiguity arises, both in the employment of single words and of words in mutual connection. , Ab this is the principal source of the error originating in Language, it will be proper to be a little Two circumstances .... » ■• , ... ■■• , under this head, more explicit. And here it is expedient whichmutuaiiyaflect to take into account twjj|circumstances> which mutually affect each other. The first is, thaA as the vocabulary of every language is neces- > 7 LANGUAGE — OB.TECTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 137 sarily finite, it is necessarily (lis proportioned to the multi- plicity, not to say infinity, of thought ; and the second, that the complement of words in any given language has been always filled up with terms significant of objects and relations of the external world, before the want was experienced of words to express the objects and relations of the internal. From the first of these cir mrastances, considered exclu- sively and by 'tself, it is manifest that one The vocabulary of of two altemat.'ves must take place. everylongiiageneoes- gj^^^^. ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^ language must each sarily finite. Conso- ° ° quonces of this. designate only a single notion, — a single fasciculus of thought, — ^the multitude of notions not designated being allowed to perish, never obtaining more than a momentary existence in the mind of the individual ; or the words of a language must each be employed to denote a plurality, of concepts. In the former case, a small amount of thought would be expressed, but that precisely and without ambiguity ; in the latter, a large amount of thought would be expressed, but that vaguely and equivocally. Of these alternatives (each of which has thus its advantages and disadvantages), the latter is the one which has universally been preferred ; and, accordingly, all languages by the same word express a multitude of thoughts, more or less differing from each other. l^Ow, what is the consequence of this 1 It is plain that if a word has more than a single meaning at*;ached to it, when it is employed it cannot of itself directly and peremptorily suggest any definite thought ; — all that it can do is vaguely and hypo- thetically to suggfest a variety of difibrent notions ; and we are obliged from the considei'ation of the context, — of the tenor, — of the general analogy^ of the discourse, to surmise, 138 MODIFIED LOGIC. with greater or less assurance, with greater or less precision, what particular bundle of characters it was intended to convey. Words, in fact, as languages are hi^'^'t^ thTrnTn'r^ constituted, dc nothin.,' more than suggest, are nothing more iih^r^ hints ; hints, like- wise, which leave the principal part of thd process of inter- pretation to be performed by the mind of the hearer. In this respect, the effect of words resembles the effect of an 0';^tli]ie or shade of a countenance with which we are familiar. In both cases, the mind is stimulated to fill up what is only hinted or pointed at. Thus it is that the function of language is not so much to infuse knowledge from one intelligence to another, as to bring two minds into the same train of thinking, and to confine them u) the same track. In this procedure what is chiefly wonderful, is the rapidity with which the mind compares the word with its correlations, and in general, without the slightest effort, decides which among its various meanings is the one which '•'j is here intended to convey. But how marvellous soever be the ease and velocity of this process of selection, it can- not always be performed with equal certainty. Words are often employed with a plurality of meanings ; several of which may quadrate, or be supposed to quadrate, with the general tenor of the discourse. Error is thus possible ; and it is also probable, if we have any prepossession in favor of one interpretation rather than of another. So copious a source of error is the ambignity of language, that a very large proportion of human controversy has been concerning the sense in which certain terms should be understood j and many disputes have even been fiercely waged, in con- sequence of the disputants being unaware that they agreed in opinion, and only differed in the meaning they attached m I ';1 LANGUAGE — OBJECTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 139 to the words in which that opinion was expressed. On this subject I may refer you to the very amusing and very in- structive treatise of Werenfelsius, entitled De Logomachiia Mruditorum. In regard to a remedy for this description of error, — ^this lies exclusively in a thorough study of the Remedy for error language employed in the communication arising from Lan- guage. oi knowledge, and m an acquaintance with the rules of Criticism and Interpre- tation. The study of languages, when rationally pursued, is not so unimportant as many fondly conceive ; for mis- conceptions most frequently arise solely from an ignorance of words ; and every language may, in a certain sort, be viewed as a commentary upon Logic, inasmuch as every language, in like manner, mirrors in itself the laws of thought. In reference to the rules of Criticism and Interpretation, — these especially should be familiar to those who make a study of the writings of ancient authors, as these writings have descended to us often in a very mutilated state, and are composed in langu.Ages which are now dead. How many theological errors, for example, have only arisen because the divines were either ignorant of the principles of Criticism and Hermeneutic, or did not properly apply them ! Doc- trines originating in a corrupted lection, or in a figurative expression, have thus arisen and been keenly defended. Such errors ai'e best combated by philological weapons ; for these pull them up along with their roots. A thorough knowledge of languages in general accustoms the mind not to remain satisfied with the husk, )»U() to pen- etrate in, even to the kernel. With this knowledge we shall not so easily imagine that we understand a system, ' 140 MODIFIED LOGIC. when we only possess the langu^e in which it is expressed ; we shall not conceive that we truly reason, when we only employ certain empty words and formulae ; we shall not betray ourselves into unusual and obscure expressions, under which our meaning may be easily mistaken ; finally, we shall not dispute with t 'lers about words, when we are in fact at one' with them in regard to things. So much for the errors V/hich originate in Language. Aa to the last source of Error which I enumerated, — the Objects themselves of *our knowledge, — it iv. Source of Error, ig hardly neoessary to say anything. It is — the Objects of our • i i i ^ Knowledge. evident that some matters are obscure and abstruse, while others are clear and pal- pable ; and that, consequently, the probability of error is greater in some studies than it is in others. But as it is impossible to deliver any special rules for these cases, differ- ent from those which are given for the Acquisition of Knowledge in general, concerning which we are soon to speak, — this source of error may be, therefore, passed over in silence. We have now thus finished the consideration of the various Sources of Error, and — ^ XV. The following rules may be given, as the results of the foregoing discussion, touching the Causes and Remedies of our False J udgments. 1°, Endeavor as far as possible to obtain a clear and thorough insight into the laws of the Understanding, and of the Mental faculties in general. Study Logic and Psychology. 2°, Assiduously exercise your mind in the application of these laws. Learn to think methodically. Par. XV. Rales tonohing the OauMS and Remediea of onr False Jadg- menti. IBT- 4 LANOUAQE— OBJEOTS OF KNOWLEDGE. Ul 3*, Concentrate your attention in the act of Thinking j and principally employ the seasons when the Intellect is alert, the Passions slumbering, and no external causes of distraction at work. 4°, Carefully eliminate all foreign interests from the objects of your enquiry, and allow yourselves to be actuated by the interest of Truth alone. 6°, Contrast your various convictions, your past and present judgments, with each other ; and admit no conclusion as certain, until it has been once and again thoroughly examined, and its correctness ascertained. 6*, Collate your own persuasions % ith those of others ; attentively listen to and weigh, without pre- possession, the judgments formed by others of the opinions which you yourselves maintain. if- I if ■♦» LECTURE VL^MODIPIEC METHODOLOGY. SECTION I.— OF THE ACQUISITION OF KNOWLEDGE. 1. EXPERIENCE:.— A. PERSONAL i—OBSEHVATlOif— . INDtJCTION AND ANALOGY. ' Means by which our knowledge obtains the charactei* of Per- fection, viz.^ the Ao> quisition and the Commuhication of Knowledge. Ik our last Lecture, having coticluded the Second Depart- ment of Concrete Logic,-'— that which treats of the Causes of Error> we now enter upon the Third part of Concrete or Modi- fied Logic, — that which considers the Means by which our Knowledge obtains the char- acter of Perfection. These means may, in general, be regarded as two,— the Acqui- sition and the Coitimunicatiofa of knowledge, — and these two means we shall, accordingly, consider consecutively and apart. In regard to the Acquisition of Knowledge, — we must consider this by reference to the different kinds of knowledge of which the human intellect is capable. And this, viewed in its greatest universality, is of two species. Human knowledge, I say, viewed in its greatest univer- sality, is of two kinds. For either it is one of which the objects are given as con- tingent phaenomeua, or one in which the objects are given as neoessary facts or laws. In the former The acquisition of Knowledge. &uman Knowl6dg« of two kinds. INDUCTION AND ANALOGY. 143 case, the cognitions are called empirical, eocperiential, or of experience ; in the latter, pv/re, intuitive, rational, or of reason, also of common eense. These two kinds of know- ledge are, likewise, severally- denominated cognitions a postetiori and cognitions a priori. The distinction of these two species of cognitions consists properly in this, — that the former are solely derived from the Presenlations of Sense, External and Internal ; whereas the latter, though first manifested on the occasion of such Presentations, are not, however, mere products of Sense ; on the contrary, they are laws, principles, forms, notions, or by whatever name they may be called, native and original to the mind, that is, founded in, or constituting the very nature of, Intelligence ; and, accordingly, out of the mind itself they must be developed, and not sought for and acquired as foreign and accidental acquisitions. As the Presentative Faculties inform us only of what exists and what happe(is, that is, only of facts and events, — such empirical knowledge consti- tutes no necessary and univei-sal judgment ; all, in this case, is contingent and particular, for even our generalized kno v- ledge has only a relative and precarious universality. The cognitions, on the other hand, which are given as Laws of Mind, are, at once and in themselves, universal and neces- sary. We cannot but think them, if we think at all. The doctrine, therefore, of the Acquisition of Knowledge, must con- sist of two parts, — the first treating of the acquisition of knowledge through the data of experience, the second, of the acquisition of knowledge through the data of Intelligence, Doctrine cf tha Ac- quisition of Know- ledge consists of two parts. ■*«, V ,1 ' H4 Modified logic* In regard to the first of these sources, viz., Exj)eriencB,— * this is either our own experience or the I. -nie doctrine of experience of others, and in either case Experience. Expert- . . «noe of two kinds, i* is for i)8 a mean of knowledge. It is manifest that the knowledge we acquire through our personal experience, is far superior in degree to that which we 6btain through the experience of other men ; inasmuch as our knowledge of an object, in the former case, is far clearer and more distinct, far more complete and lively, than in the latter ; while at the same time the latter also affords us a far inferior conviction of the correctness and certainty of the cognition than the former. On the other hand, for^n is far superior to our proper experience in this, — that it is much more comprehensive, and that, with- out this^ man would be deprived of those branches of knowledge which are to him of the most indispensable importance. Now, as the principal distinction of experience is thus into our own experience and into the experience of t>ther8, we must consider it more closely in this two-fold relation. First, then, of our Personal Experience. Experience necessarily suppose.' as its primary condition, certain presentations by the faculties of Kxtemal or of Internal Perception, and is, therefore, of 1. PermM^£K- two kinds, according as it is conversant |)erien«e. «bout th© ol^eots oi the ©ne of these Caculties, or th« objects of the other. But the pi?esentation cf « fn^st of the external or of the internal world is not at once an experience. To this there is requii«d a continued series of such presenta- tions^ a* comparison of these tt^ther, a mental separation of the different, a mental combination of the similar, and it, therefore, over and above the operation of the Presenta- INDUCTION AND ANALOGY. 14A live Faculties, requires the cooperation of tHie Betentiyo, the Reproductive, the Bepreaentative, and the Elaboratire Faculties. In regard to Experience, as the first mesAS hj which we acquire knowledge through the legitimate use and application of our Cognitive Faculties, I give you the following paragraph : IT XVI. The First Mean towards the Acquisition of Knowledge is Eo^perience (eaoperir Par. xn. Bx- g^<^ (fiTrtLpia). Experience may be, In general. rudely and generally, described as the apprehension of the phsenomena of the outer world, presented by the Faculty of External Perception, and of the phenomena of the inner world, presented by the Faculty of Self-nsciousness ; — these phsenomena being retained in Memory, ready for Re- production and Representation, being also arranged into order by the Understttnding. This pai'agraph, you will remaric, aficwds only a prelim- inary view of the general conditions of Experienoe. In the first place, it is evident, that without the Fresentative, or, as they may with equal propriety be called, the Acquisitive, Faculties of Perception, External and Internal, no experience would be possible. But these faculties, though affording the fundamental con- dition of knowledge, do not of themselves make up experience. There is, moreover, required of the phaenomena or appearances the accumulation and retention, the repro- duction and represeutption. Memory, Reminiac^ioe, and Imagination must, therefore, also cooperate, Finally, unless the phsenomena be compared together, and be arranged into classes, according to their similarities and differences, it is evident that .10 judgments, — ^no conclusions, 8 Explication. U6 MODIFIED LOGIC. Common and Sci «ntiflc Experience. oan be formed oonceming them ; but witbout a judgment knowledge is imposeible ; and as experience is a knowledge^ consequently experience is impossible. The Understanding or Elaborative Faculty must, therefore, likewise cooperate. Manilius has well expressed the nature of experience in the following lines. ^ **Per varlo9 unu artem experientia /ecii, Exemplo momtrarUe viam.^ And Afranius in the otibers : \ ** Usua me genuit, mater peperit Memoria ; Sophiam vocant me Oraii, vos Sapientiam,** Our own observation, be it external or internal, is either with, or without, intention ; and it consists eithw of a series of Presentations alone, or Abstraction and Beflection super- vene, so that the presentations obtain that completion and system which they do not of themselves possess. In the former case, the experience may be called an Unlearned or Common ; in the latter, a Learned or ScientiHc Experience. Inten'* ^x}nal and reflective experience is called Observation. Observation is of ' 'o kinds ; for either the objects which it aiders remain un- changed, or, previottb its application, they are made to undergo certain arbi- trary changes^ or are placed in certain fSetctitiouB relations. In the latter case, the observ^ation contains the E^)ecific name of JExperiment. Observation and experiment do not, therefore, constitute opposite or two differ^it procedures, — the latter Ib^ in propriety, only a certain subordinate modification of the former ; for, while observation may accomplish its end without experiment, ex- Obserration— what. Of two kinds,— Ob- servation Proper, and Experiment. T INDUCTION AND ANALOGY. 147, ler m- 3n, Ibi- iva ion lud ro » lile 5X- periment without observation is impossible. Observation and experiment are manifestly exclusively competent upon the objects of our empirical knowledge ; and they cooperate, equally and in like manner, to the progress of that know' ledge, partly by est-ablishing, partly by correcting, partly by amplifying it. Under observation, therefore, is not to be understood a common or unlearned experience, which obtrudes itself upon every one endowed with the ordinary faculties of Sense and Understanding, but an intentional and continued application of the faculties of Perception, combined with an abstractive and reflective attention to an object or class of objects, a more accurate knowledge of which, it is proposed, by the observation, to accomplish. But in order that the observation should accomplish this end, — more especially when the objects are numerous and a systematic complement of cognitions is the end proposed, — it is necessary that we should know cer- tain prsecognita, — 1°, What we ought to observe; 2°, How we ought to observe; and 3°, By what mean? are the data of observation to be re- duced to system. The first of these concerns the Object ; the seconti, the Procedure ; the third, the scientific Comple- tion of the observations. It is proper to make some general observations in regard to these, in their order ; and first, of the Object of observation, — the what we ought to observe. The Object of Observation can only be some given and determined pheenomenon, and this ph»no- Urst,— The Object menon either an external or an internal. This fourfold. Through observation, whether external or internal, there are four several cognitions which we propose to compaas, viz., to ascertain — l", What Pnecognitaof Ob- servation. ■ai' us MODIFIED LOGIC. r, What the Phae* ttomena are. the Phsenomena themselves are j 2*, "What are the Condi- tions of their Reality ; S**, What are the Causes of their Existence ; 4", "What is the Order of their Oonsecution. In regard to what the pheenomena themselves are fquid sint), that is, in regard to what consti- tutes their peculiar nature, — this, it is evident, must be the primary matter of consideration, it being always supposed that the fact (the an sit) of the phsanomenon itself haft been established. To this there is required, above all, a clear and distinct Presen* tation or Representation of the object. In order to obtain this, it behooves us to analyze,— to dis* In their individual member, — the constituent parts of the ^te. *^"* °° " object, and to take into proximate account those characters which constitute the ob* ject, that is, which make it to be what it i», and nothing but what it is. This being performed, we must proceed to compare it with other objeote, and with those especially which bear to it the strongest similarity, taking accurate note always of those points in which they reciprocally resemble and in which they reciprocally disagree. But it is not enough to consider the several pheenomena in their individual peculiarities and con- As under detenni- trasts,— in what they are. and in what they nate genera an spe* ^^ not,—- it is also requisite to bring tibem under determinate genera and species. To this end wo must, having obtained (as previously pre- scribed^ a clear and distinct knowledge of the several ph«nomena in their essential similarities and differences, look away or abstract from the latter, — the differences, and comprehend the former, — ^the similarities, in a compendious and characterigtic notion, under an appropriate name. INDUCTION AND ANALOGY. 149 To ces, and "When the distinctive peculiarities of the phsenomena have been thus definitely recognize — their agree- roottaad difference. The principle by which, in either case, we are disposed to extend our inferences beyond the limits of expe- ri^ice, is a natural or ultimate principle of intelligence ; and may be called the principle of Logical, or, more properly, of Philosophical Presumption. The reasoning by Induction and the reasoning by Ana- logy have this in common, that they both conclude from something observed to some- thing not observed ', from something within to something beyond the sphere of actual experience. They diiffer, how- ever, in this, that, in Induction, that which is observed and from which the inference is drawn to that which is not observed, is a unity in plurality ; whereas, in Analogy, it is a {durality in unity. In other words, in Induction, we look to the one in the many ; in Analogy we look to the many in the one ; and while in both we conclude to the unity in totality, we do this, in Induction, from the recog- nized unity in plurality, in Analogy, from the recognized plurality in unity. Thus, as induction rests upon the principle, that what belongs (or does not belong) to many things of the same kind, belongs, (or does not belong) to all things of the same kind ; so analogy rests upon the prin- ciple, — that things which have many observed attributes in common, have otlier not observed attributes in common like- wise. It is hardly necessary to remark that we are now peak- ing of Induction and Analogy, not as principles of Pure Logic, and as necessitated by the fundamental l.iws of thought, but of these as means of acquiring knowledge, and as legiti- mated by the conditions of objective reality. In Pure Logid, Analogy has no place, and only that Induction is fMlmitted, in which all the several parts are supposed to INDUCTION AND ANALOGY. 167 legitimate the inference to the whole. Applied Induction, on the contrary, rests on the constancy, — the uniformity of nature, land on the instinctive expectation we have of this stability. This constitutes what has been called the prin- ciple of Logical Presumption, though perhaps it might, with greater propi'ety, be called the principle of Philosophical Presumption. We shall now consider these severally ; and, first, of Induction. An Induction is the enumeration of the parts, in order to legitimate a judgment in regard to the Induction, — what. •» o o whole. Now, the parts may either be in- dividuals or particulars, strictly so called. I say strictly so called, for you are aware that the term particular is very commonly employed, not only to denote the species, as con- tained under a genus, but, likewise, to denote the individual, as contained under a species. Using, however, ihe two terms in their proper significations, I say, if tfte parts are individual or singular things, the induction is then called Individital; whereas if the parts be species or subaltern genera, the induction then obtains the name of Special. An example of the Individual Induction is given, were we to argue thus, — Mercury, Venus, the Earth, Mars, etc., are bodies in themselves opaque, and which borrow their light from the sun. But Mercury, Venus, etc., a/re jilanets. Therefore, all planets are opaque, and borrow their light from the sun. An example of the special is given, were we to argue as follows, — Quadrupeds, birds, Jisfies, the a/mphihia, etc., all ha/oe a nervous system. But quadrupeds, birds, etc., are animals. Therefore all animals (though it is not yet detected in some) have a nervous system. Now, here it is manifest that Special rests upon Individual Induction^ Of two kinds,— In dividual and Special 158 MODIFIED LOGIC. and that, in the last result, all inductioii is individual. For we can assert nothing concerning species, unless what we assert of them has been previously observed in their constituent singulars. For a legitimate Induction there are requisite at least two conditions. In the first place, it is The two conditions necessarv, That the partial (and this word of legitimate Indue- • i j- u i.u xi. \l • j* • tion,— Pirat. I use as including both the terms tndivtr dual and partuyular^) — I say, it is neces- sax J that the partial judgments out of which the total or genei*al judgment is inferred, be all of the same quality. For if one even of the partial judgments had an opposite quality, the whole induction would be subverted. Hence it is that we refute universal judgments founded on an im- perfect induction, by bringing what is dalled an instance (instantiaj, that is, by adducing a thing belonging to the same class or notion, in reference to which the opposite holds true. For example, the general assertion, AU dogs bark, is refuted by the instance of the dogs of Labrador or California (I, forget which), — these do not bark. In like manner, the general assertion, No quctdruped is oviparous, is refuted by the instance of the Omithorhynchus Para- doxus. But that the universal judgment must have the same quality ks the partial, is self-evident j for this judg- ment is simply the assertion of something to be true of all which is true of many. The second condition required is. That a competent number of the partial objects from which Seoond. tho induction departs, should have been observed, for otherwise the comprehension of other objects under the total judgment would be rash. "What is the number of such objects, which amounts to 9^ INDUCTION AND ANALOGY. 159 competent induction, it is not possible to say in general. In some cases, the observation of a very few particular or individual examples is sufficient to warrant an assertion in regard to the whole class ; in others, the total judgment is hardly competent, until our observation has gone through each of its constituent parts. This distinction is founded on the differeuce of essential and unessential characters. If the character be essential to the several objects, a compar- atively limited observation is necessary to legitimate our general conclusion. For example, it would require a far less induction to prove that all animals breathe, than to prove that the mamalia, and the mamalia alone, have lateral lobes to the cerebellum. For the one is seen to be a function necessary to animal life; the other, as far as our present knowledge reaches, appears only as an arbitrary con- comitant. The difference of essential and accidental is, how- ever, one itself founded on induction, and varies according to the greater or less perfection to which this has been carried. In the progress of science, the lateral lobes of the cerebellum may appear to future physiologists as necessary a condition of the function of suckling their young, as the organs of breathing appear to us of circulation and of life. To sum up the Doctrine of Induction, — " This is more certain, 1°, In proportion to tiie number ummaiT o e ^^^ diversity of the objects observed ; — doctrine of Induotiou j j } 2°, In proportion to the accuracy with which the observation and comparison haVe been conducted ; >— 3°, In proportion as the agreement of the objects is clear and precise ; — and, 4°, In proportion as it has been thoroughly explored, whether there exist exceptions or not." Almost all induction is, however, necessarily imperfect ; »nd Logio oan inoulcate nothing more important on the rti 160 MODIFIED LOGIC. Analogy,— what. investigators of nature than that sobriety of mind, which regards all its past obsorvtitions only as hypothetically true, Only as relatively complete, and which, consequently, holds ^he mind open to every new observation, which may cor- rect and limit its former judgments. So much for Induction ; now for Analogy. Analogy, in general, means proportion, or a similarity of relations. Thus, to judge analogically, or according to analogy, is to judge things by the similar- ity of their relations. Thus, when we judge that as two is to four, BO is eight to sixteen, we judge tliat they are ana- logically identical ; that is, though the sums in other respects are different,^ they agree in this, that as two is the half of four, so eight is the half of sixteen. In common language, however, this propriety of the term is not preserved. For hy analogy is not always meant merely hy proportion^ but frequently hy comparison — hy re- lation, or simply by similarity^ In so far as Analogy con- stitutes a particular kind of reasoning from the individual or particular to the universal, it signiiies an inference from the partial similarity of two or more things to their com- plete or total similarity. For example, — This disease corresponds in vnany symptoms with those we have observed in typhus fevers ; it will, tJierefore, correspond in all, that is, it is a typhus fever. Like Induction, Analogy has two essential requisites. In th^ first place, it is necessco'y that of two or more things a certain number- of attri- butes should have observed, in order to ground the inference that they also agree in those other attributes, which it has not yet been ascertained that they possess. It is evident that in proportion to the number of Has two essential conditions,— First. INDtrCTION AND ANALOGY. IGl Second. points observed, in which the things compared together coincide, in the same proportion can it be with safety as- sumed, that there exists a common principle in these things, on which depends the similarity in the points known as in the points unknown. In the second place, it is required that the predicates .ilready observed should neither be all nega- tive nor all contingent ; but that some at least should be positive and necessary. Mere negative characters denote only what the thing is not ; and contin- gent characters need not be present in the thing at all. In regard to negative attributes, the inference, that two things, to which a number of qualities do not belong, and which are, consequently, similar to each other only in a negative point of view, — that these things are, therefore, absolutely and positively similar, is highly improbable. But that the judgment in reference to the compared things (say A and X) must be of the same quality (i. e. either both affirmative or both negative), is self-evident. For if it be said A is B, X is not B, A is not C, X t* C ; their harmony or similarity is subverted, and we should rather be warranted in arguing their discord and dissimilarity in other points. And here it is to be noticed that Analogy differs from Induction in this, that it is not limited to one quality, but that it admits of a mixture of both. In regard to contingent attributes, it is equally manifet-t that the analogy cannot proceed exclusively upon them. For, if two things coincide in certain accidental attributes (for example, two men in respect (if stature, age, and dress,) the supposition that there is a common principle, and 9k general similiarity founded thereon, is very unlikely. i« . 162 MODIFIED LOGIC. To conclude Summary of the doctrine of Aualogy. characters and Induction and Anal ogy compared to- gether. Analogy is certain in proportion, 1*, To the number of congruent obseivations ; 2°, To the number of congruent characters ob- served ; 3°, To the importance of these their essentiality to the objects ; and, 4°, To the certainty that the characters really belong to the objects, and that a partial correspondence exists. Like Induction, Analogy can only pretend at best to a high degree of probability ; it may have a high degree of certainty, but it never reaches to necessity. Comparing these two processes together : The Analogical is distinguished from the Inductive in this — thai Induction i-egaids a single predicate in many subjects as the attribute Z in A, in B, in C, in D, in E, in F, etc. ; and as these many belong to one class, say Q ; it is inferred that Z will, likewise, be met with in the other things belonging to this class, that is, in all Qs. On the other hand. Analogy regards many attributes in one subject (say m, w, o, p, in A) ; and as these many are in part found in another subject (say m, and n, in B), it is concluded that, in that second thing, there will also be found the other attributes (say o and p). Through Induction we, therefore, endeavor to prove that one character belongs (or does not belong) to all the things of a certain class, because it belongs (or does not belong) to many things of that class. Thi-ough Anal- ogy on the other hand, we seek to prove that all the chai-ac- ters of a thing belong (or do not belong) to another or several others, because many of these characters belong to this other or these others. In the one it is- proclaimed, — One in many, tlierefore one in all. — In the other it is pro- claimed, — Many in one, tJiere/ore all in one. INDUCTION AND ANALOGY. 163 By these Processes of Induction and Analogy, as observed, we are unable to attain absolute certainty ; — a great proba- bility is all that we can reach, and this for the simple reason, that it is impossible, under any condition, to Induction and Anal- i^fer the unobserved from the observed, — ogy do not afford ab- solute certainty. *h® whole from any proportion of the parts, — in the way of any rational neces- sity. Even from the i-equisites of Induction and Anal- ogy, it is manifest that they bear the stamp of uncertainty ; inasmuch as they are unable to determine how many objects or how many characters must be observed, in order to draw the conclusion that the case is the same with all the other objects, or with all the other characters. It is possible only • in one way to raise Induction and Analogy from mere probability to complete certainty, — viz., to demonstrate that the principles which lie at the root of these processes, and which we have already stated, are either necessary laws of thought, or necessary laws of nature. To demonstrate that they are necessary laws of thought Is imi)ossible ; for Logic not only does not allow inference from many to all, but expressly rejects it. Again, to demonstrate that they are necessary laws of nature is equally impossible. This has indeed been attempted, from the uniformity of nature, but in vain. For it is incompetent to evince the necessity of the inference of Induction and Analogy from the fact denominated the law of nature ; seeing that this law itself can only be discovered by the way of Induction and Analogy. In this attempted demonstration there is thus the most glaring petitio principii. The result which has been previously given remains, therefore, intact : — Induction and Analogy guarantee no perfect certainty, but only a high degree of probability, whUe all probability rests at best upon Induction and Analogy, and nothing else. I . LECTITRE VII.— MODIFIED METHODOLOGY. Foreign £jq>eri«uce. SECTION I. -OF THE ACQUISITION OF KNOWLEDGE. L EXPERIENCE— B. FOREIGN :-ORAL TESTIMONY- ITS CREDIBILITY. Having, in our last Lecture, terminated the Doctrine of Empincal Knowledge, considered as ob- tained Immediately, — that is, through the exercise of our own powers of Observation, — we are now to enter on the doctrine of Empirical Knowledge considered as obtained Mediately, — that is, through the Experience of Other Men. The following paragraph will afford you a general notion of the nature and kinds of this knowledge. IT XIX. A matter of Observation or Empirical Knowledge can only be obtained Mediately, that is, by one individual from another, through an enuuncement declaring it to be true. This enouncement is called, in the most extensive sense of the word, a Witnessing or Testimony/ (testimonium) ; and the person by whom it is made is, in the same sense, called a Witness, or Testifier (testis). The object of the testimony is called the Fact (factum) ; and its validity constitutes what is styled Historical Credibility (credibilitas historica). To estimate this credibility, it is requisite to consider — Par. ZIZ. T«Bti- monf. BXP£RtE50£— ITS CR£DlfilLITY. 169 1*, The Subjective Trustworthinesa of the Witnessea (jidea tMtium), and 2°) The Objective Probability of the Fact itself. The former is founded partly on the Sin- cerity, and partly on the Competence, of the Witness. The latter depends on the i^bsolute and Relative Possibility of the Fact itself. Testimony is either Immediate or Mediate. Immediate, where the fact reported is the object of a Personal Experience J Mediate, where the fact reported is the object of a Foreign Experience. It is manifest that Foreign £lxperience) or the experience of other men, is astricced to the same laws. ExpIiOAtton. and Its certainty measured by the same criteria, as the experience we carry through ourselves. But the experience of the individual is limited, when ooro|>ired with the exp«)rience of the species ; and if men did not possess the means of communicating to each other the results of their several observations^ — were they unable to cooperate in accumulating a stock of knowledge, and in carrying on the progress of discovery, — they would never have risen above the very lowest steps in the acquisition of science. But to this mutual communication they are competent ; and each individual is thus able to appropriate to his own benefit the experience of his fellow-men, and to confer on them in return the advantages which his own observations may supply. But it is evident that this reciprocal com* munication of their re8{)ective experiences among men, can only be effected inasmuch as one is able to inform another o;? what he has himself observed, and that the yehicle c\ this information can only be some enouncement in conventional signs of one character or another. The enouncement of what has been observed is, a^ stated in the paragraph, called :i ^ n . ' 166 MODIFIED LOGIC. a vntnessing, — a beaHng witness, — -a testimony , etc., these terms being employed in their wider acceptation ; and he by whom this declaration is made, and on whose veracity it rests, is called a witness, voucher, or testifier (testis). The term testimony, I may notice, is sometimes, by an abusive metonym, employed for witness ; and the word evidence is often ambiguously used for testimony, and for the bearer of testimony ,• — the witness. Such an enouncement, — such a testimony, is, however, necessary for others, only when the experi- . n,^^^°^' ° * ©nee which it communicates is beyond the of Testimony, "^ compass of their own observation. Hence it follows, that matters of reasoning are not proper objects of testimony, since matters of reasoning, as such, neither can rest, nor ought to rest, on the observations of others ; for a proof of their certainty is equally competent to all, and may by all be obtained in the manner in which it was originally obtained by those who may bear witness to their truth. And hence it fuiiiher follows, that matters of expe- rience alone are proper objects of testimony ; and of matters of experience themselves, such only as are beyond the sphere of our personal experience. Testimony, in the strictest sense of the term, therefore, is the communication of an experience, or, what amounts to the saine thing, the report of an observed phsenomenon, made to those whose own experience or observation has not reached so far. The object of testimopy, as stated in the paragraph, is called the fact ; the validity of a testimony The Fad. is called historical- credibility. The testi- mony is either immediate or mediate. Immediate when the witness has himself observed the fact to which he testifies 3 mediate, when the Historical credl- blUty. EXPERIENCE — ITS CKEDIBIUTY. 167 Eye-witness. Ear-witness. The Guarantee. witness has not himself had experience of this fact, but has received it on the testimony of others. The former, the immediate witness, is commonly styled an eye-witness (testis oculatusj ; and the latter, the mediate witness, an ear-witness (testis auritasj. The superiority of immediate to mediate testimony is expressed by Plautus, " Pluris est oculattis testis unus, quam auriti decern." These denominations, ei/e and ear witness, are however, as synonyms of Immediate and mediate witness, not al ways either applicable or correct. The person on whose testimony a fact is medi- ately reported, is called the guarantee, or he on whose authority it rests ; and the guarantee himself may be agpin either an immediate or a mediate witness. In the latter case he is called a second-hand or intermediate witness ; and his testimony is commonly styled hearsay evi' dence. Further, Testimony, whether immediate or mediate, is either partial or complete ; either con- sistent or contradictory. These distinctions require no comment. Finally, testimony is either direct or indirect; direct, when the witness has no laotive but that of making known the fact ; indirect, when he is actuated to this by other ends. The on^y question in reference to Testimony is that which regards its Credibility; and the questiou concerning the credibility of the witness may be comprehended under that touching the Credibility of Testimony. The order I sha.ll follow in the subsequent obser^^a- tions is this, — I shall, in the first place, consider the Credibility of Testimony in general 3 and, Testimonies,— Par- tial, Complete, Con- sistent, Cdntradlo- toiy. Division of the sub- ject : I. Credibility of Testimony in g:eneral. II. Credibilily of Tes- timony in its partic- ular forma of Imme- diate and Modiate. rt! L ' 168 MODIFIED LOGIC. in t' e second, consider the Credibility of Testimony in its particular forms of Immediate and Mediate. First, then, in regard to the Credibility of Testimony in general ; — When we inquire whether a certain testimony is, or is not, deserving of credit, there are two things to be con- sidered : 1°, The Object of the Testimony, that is, the fact or facts for the truth of w^hich the Testimony vouches ; and, 2°, Thfl Subject of the Testimony, that is, the person or persons by whom the testimony is borne. The question, therefore^ concerning the Credibility of testimony, thus naturally subdivides itself into two. Of these questions, the first asks, What are the conditions of the credibility of «i testimony by reference to what is testified, that is, in relation to the Object of the testimony I The second asks, — What are the conditions of the credibility of a testimony by him who testifies, that is, in relation to the Subject of the testimony ? Of these in their order. On the first question.—" In regard to the matter testified, that is, in regard to the object of the testi- mony j it is, first cf ail, a requisite condi. tion, that what is reported to be true should be possible, both absolutely, or as an object of the JElaborative Faculty, and relatively, or as an object of the Presentative Facul- ties, —Perception, External or Internal. A thing is possible absolutely, or in itself, when it can be construed HoDesty or Veradt;. EXPERIENCE- ITS CREDIBILITY. 171 is greatest the competency is least, and where the com- petency iR greatest, the honesty is lesist. But when the veracity of a witness is established, there is established also a presumption of his competency ; for an honest man will not bear evidence to a point in regard to which his recollec- tion is not precise, or to the observation of which he had not accorded the requisite attention. In truth, when a fact depends on the testimony of a single witness, the com- petency of that witness is solely guaranteed by his honesty. In regard to the honesty of a witness, — this, though often admitting of the highest probability, never admits of absolute certainty ; for, though in many cases, we may know enough t)f the general character of the witness to rely with perfect confidence on his veracity, in no case can we look into the heart, and observe the influence which motives have actually had upon his volitions. "We are, however, compelled, in many of the most iinpoi-tant concerns of our existence, to depend on the testimony, and, consequently, to confide in the sincerity, of othe?s. But from the moral constitution of human nature, we are warranted in presuming on the honesty of a witness ; and this presumption is enhanced in proportion as the following circumstances concur in its. con- firmation. In the first place, a witness is to bo presumed veracious in this case, in proportion as his love of truth is already established from others. In the second place, a witness is to be presumed veracious, in proportion as he has fewer and weaker motives to falsify his testimony. In the third place, a witness is to be presumed veracious, in proportion to the likelihood of contradiction which his testimony would encounter, if he m The presumption ot the Honesty of a Wit- ness enhanced by cer- tain circumstances. 1 m MODIFIED LOGIC. (b) Competency of a Witness. Circitmstances by which the presump- tion of competency is enluncecL deviated from the truth. So much for the Sincerity, Honesty, or Veracity of a witness. In regard to the Competency or Ability of a witness, — ' this, in general, depends on the supposition that he has had it in his power correctly to observe the fact to which he testifies, and correctly to report it. The presumption in favor of the competence of a witness rises in proportion as the following conditions are fulfilled: — In the first place, he must be presumed competent in refer- ence to the case in hand, in proportion as his general ability to observe and to com- municate his observation has been estab- lished in other cases. In the seconds place, the competency of a witness must be presumed, in proportion as in the par- ticular case a lower and commoner amount of ability is requisite rightly to observe, and rightly to report the obser- vation. In the third place, the competency of a witness is to be presumed, in proportion a« it is not to be presumed that his observation was made or communicated at a time when he was unable correctly to make or correctly to com- municate it. So much for the Competency of. a witness. Now, when both the good will and the ability, that is, when both the Veracity and Competence of a witness have been suffici3ntly established, the credibility of his testimony is not to be invalidated because the fact which it goes to prove is one out of the ordinary course of experience. Thus it would be false to assert, with Hume, that miracles, that is, suspensions of tho ordinary laws of nature, are incapable of proof, because con- tradicted by what we have been able to observe. On the The credibility of Testimony not invali- dated because the fact testified is one out of the ordinary oourse of experience. EXPERIENCE — ITS CREDIBILITY. ns contrary, Avhere the trustworthiness of a witness or witnesses is unimpeachable, the very circumstance that the object is one in itself unusual and marvellous, adds greater weight to the testimony ; for this very circumstance would itself induce men* of veracity and intelligence to accord a more uitentive scrutiny to the fact, and secure from them a more accurate report of their observation. The result of what has now been stated in regard to the credibility of Testimony in general, is : — Summary regarding That a testimony is entitled to credit when the Credibility of Tes- . . *' timony in general. *he requisite conditions, both on the part of the object and on the part of the sub- ject, have been fulfilled. On the part of the object these are fulfilled when the object is absolutely possible, as an object of the higher faculty of experience, — the Understand- ing, — the Elaborativo Faculty, and relatively possible, as an object of the lower or subsidiary faculties of experience, — Sense, and Self-consciousness. In this case, the testimony, qtui testimony, does not contradict itself. On the part of the subject the requisite conditions are fulfilled when the trustworthiness, that is, the veracity and competency of the witness, is beyond reasonable doubt. In regard to the veracity of the witness, — this cannot be reasonably doubted, when there is no positive ground on which to discredit the sincerity of the witness, and when the -vnly ground of doubt lies in the mere general possibility of deception. And in reference to the competency of a witness, — this is exposed to no reasonable objection, when the ability of the witness to observe and to communicate the fact in testimony cannot be disallowed. Having, therefore, concluded the considera- tion of testimony in general, we proceed to treat of it in special, that is, in so far as it is viewed either as Immediate or as Mediate. Of these in their order. ^i( 174 MODIFIED Lonir. n. Testimony in ■pedal, ad Immediate and Mediate. 1°, Immediate Tes- timony. Conditions of its CredlbUity. The special consideration of Testimony, when that testi- mony is Immediate. — An immediate testi- mony, or testimony at first hand, is one in which the fact reported is an object of the proper or personal experience of the re- porter. Now it is manifest, that an imme- diate witness is in general better entitled to credit than a witness at second hand ; and his testimony rises in proba- bility, in proportion as the requisites, already specified, both on the part of its object and on the part of its subject, are fulfilled. An immediate testimony is, therefore, entitled to credit, — 1°, In proportion to the greater ability with which the observation has been made ; 2°, In proportion to the less impediment in the way of the observation being perfectly ac- complished ; 3", In proportion as what was observed could be fully and accurately remembered ; and, 4°, In proportion as the facts olwerved and remembered have been communicated by intelligible and unambiguous signs. Now, whether all these conditions of a higher credibility be fulfilled in the case of any immediate testimony, — this cannot be directly and at once ascertained ; it can only be inferretl, with greater or less certainty, from the qualities of the witness ; and, consequently, the validity of a testimony can only be accurately estimated from a critical knowledge of the per- sonal character of the witness, as given in his intellectual and moral qualities, and in the circumstances of his life, which have concurred to modify and determine these. The veracity of a witness either is, or is not, exempt from doubt ; Wid, in tb^e latter case, it may not only lie opeu to doubt* Whether all these conditions are ful- filled in the case of any immediate testi- mony, cannot be di- rectly ascertained. EXPERIENCE — ITS CREDIBILITY. 175 but even be exposed to suspicion. If the sinceiity of the ^ritness he indubitable, a direct testimony is always prefer- able to an indirect ; for a diiect testimony being made with the sole intent of establishing the certainty of the fact in question, the competency of the witness is less exposed to -objection. If, oa the contrary, the aincei-ity of tb« witness be not beyond a doubt, and, still more, if it be actualiy sua* pected, in thatcatie an indirect testimony is of higher cogency than a direct ; for the indirect testimony being given with another view than merely to establish the fact in question, the intention of the witness to falsify the truth of the fact has not so stj-ong a presumption in its favor. If both the «incerity and the competency of the witness are altogether indubitable, it is then of no importance whether the truth of the fact be vouched for by a single witness, or by a plurality of witnesses. On the other hand, if the sincerity and competency of the witness Ije at all doubtful, the credi- bility of a testimony will be greater, the greater the number of the witnesses by whom the fact is corro- Whentefltimonyat- borated. But here it is to be considered, tnias the highest de- i i . «. . gree of protobiuty. *«** when there are a plurality of testi- monies to the same fact, these testimonies are either consistent or inconsistent. If the testimonies be consistent, and the sincerity and competency of all the wit" nesses complete, in that case the testimony attains the highest degree of probability of which any testimony is capable. Again, if the witnesses be inconsistent, — on this hypothesis two eases are possible ; for either their discrepancy ia nega- tive, or it is positive. A negative discrep- ancy arises, where one witness passes over in silence what another witness positively avers. A positive discrepancy arises, where one witness Negative and Posi- 6ve Discrepancy. W ^ . ll I mi i! I 176 modifisjj logic. explicitly aflSrras something, which something another wit- ness explicitly deniea. When the difference of testimonies is merely negative, we may suppose various causes of the Bilence ; and, therefore, the positive averment of one witness to a fact is not disproved by the mere circumstance that the same fact is omitted by another. But if it be made out, that the witness who omits mention of the fact could not have been ignorant of that fact had it taken place, and, at the same time, that he could not have passed it over without violating every probability of human action, — in this case, the silence of the one witness manifestly derogates from the credibility of the other witness, and in certain circumstances may annihilate it altogether. Where, again, the difference is positive, the discrepancy is of greater importance, because (though there are certainly exceptions to the rule) an overt contradiction is, in general and in itself, of stronger cogency than a mere non-confirmation by simple silence. Now the positive discrepancy of testimonies either admits of concili- ation, or it does not. In the former case, the credibility of the several testimonies stands intact ; and the discrepancy among the witnesses m to be accounted for by such circura- stances as explain, without invalidating, the testimony con- sidered in itself. In the latter case, one testimony mani- festly detracts from the credibility of another ; for of incom- patible testimonies, while both cannot be true, the one must be false, when reciprocally contradictory, or they may both be false, when reciprocally contrary. In this case, the whole question resolves itself into one of the greater or less trust- worthiness of the opposing witnesses. Is the trustworthi- ness of the counter-witnesses equally great ? In that case, neither of the conflictive testimonies is to be admitted. Again, is the trustworthiness of the witnesses not upon a N. EXPERIENCE — ITS CREDIBILITY. 177 2*, MedUte Testi- mony. pari In that case, the testimony of the witness whose trustworthiness is the greater, obtains the prefei*ence,- -and this more especially if the credibility of the other witnesses is suspected. So much for the Credibility of Testimony, considered in Special, in so far as that testimony is Immediate or at First Hand ; and I now, in the second place, pass on to consider likewise in special, the Credibility of Testimony, in so far as that testimony is Mediate, or at Second Hand. A Mediate Testimony is one where the fact is an object not of Personal, but of Foreign Experi- ence. Touching the credibility of a me- diate testimony, this supposes that the report of the immediate, and that the report of the mediate, witness are both trustworthy, — this we are either of our- selves able to determine, viz., from our personal acquaintance with its veracity and competence ; or we are unable of ourselves to do this, in which case the credibility of the immediate must be taken upon the authority of the mediate witness. Here, however, it is necessary for us to be aware, that the mediate witness is possessed of the ability requisite to estimate the credibility of the immediate witness, and of the honesty to communicate the truth without retrenchment or falsification. But if the trustworthiness both of the mediate and of the immediate witness be sufficiently established, it is of no consequence, in regard to the credi- bility of a testimony, whether it be at first hand or at second. Nay, the testimony of a mediate may even tend to confirm the testimony of an immediate witness, when his own competence fairly to appreciate the report of the immediate witness is indubitable. If, however, the cre- dibility of the immediate witness be unimpeachable, but 9* ;:,'( IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /> ''if Mj> /!/ K>, ■<♦ t/j 1.0 I.I 1.25 Ifl^ ill i« IM 1 2.2 1: 1^ II 2.0 m U 11.6 V/ O / Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 (716) 872-4503 # ,\ iV ip \\ 9) V ^ "V >..^ 6^ '^ ' ness of remote ; and the credibility of independent witnesses greater than the credibility of dependent. The remote witness is unworthy of belief, when the intermediate links are wanting between him and the original witness ; and the dependent witness deserves no credit, when that on which his evidence depends is recognized as false or unestablished. Mediate testimonies are, likewise, either direct or indirect ; and, likewise, when more than one, either reciprocally con-* gruent or conflictive. In both cases the credibility of the witnesses is to be determined in the same raanner as if the testimonies were immediate. The testimony of a plurality of mediate witnesses, where there is no recognized immediate witness, is called a vumorf if the witnesses be con- temporaneous ; and a tradition if the wi^esses be chronologically successive. These are both less entitled to credit, in proportion as in either case a fiction or falsification of tht fact is comparatively easy, itnd, consequently, comparatively probable. Rumor,— what. Tradition. LECTURE VIII.— MODIFIED METHODOLOGY. # Criticism of Re- orded Testimony and of Writings in 4 f| I vA 188 MODIFIED (X)GIC. the interpretation of a work, it is not, therefore, enough to show in what signification its words may be understood ; for it is required that we show in what signification they must. To the execution of this tas)c two conditions are absolutely necessary ; 1°, That the intei-preter should be thoroughly ac- quainted with the language itsf If in general, and with the language of the writer in particular ; and 2", That the inter- preter should be familiar with the subjects of which the writing treats. But these two requisites, though indispen- sable, are not of themselves sufficient. It is also of impor- tance that the expositor should have a competent acquaint- ance with the author's personal circumstances and character of thought, and with the histo ry and spirit of the age and country in which he lived. In regard to the interpretation itself, — it is to be again observed, that as a writer could employ expressions only in a single sense, so the result of the exposition ought to be not merely to show what meaning may possibly attach to the doubtful terms, but what meaning necessarily flnust. When, therefore, it appears that a passage is of doubtful import, the best preparative for a final determination of its meaning is, in the first place, to ascertain in how many different significations it may be construed, and then, by a process of exclusion, to arrive at the one veritable meaning. When, however, the obscurity cannot be removed, in that case it is the duty of the expositor, before abandoning his task, to evince that an interpretation of the passage is, without change, absolutely or relatively impossible. As to the sources from whence the Interpretation is to be drawn, — these are three in all,— viz., 1", The Tractus literarum, the words themselves, as they appear in MSS. ; 2**, The context, that is, the passage in immediate connection Sources of Inter- pretation. RECORDED TESTIMONY. 189 with the doubtful term ; 3", Parallel or analogous passages in the same, or in other writings. How the interpretation dn "vn from these sources is to be applied, I shall not attempt to detail ; but pass on to a more generally useful and intere<)ting subject. So much for Experience or Observation, the first mean of scientific discovery, that, viz., by which Speculation the ^e apprehend what is presented as con- Becond Means of , . , 1.1 Knowledge. tingen plieenomena, and by whose process of Induction and Analogy we carry up individual into general fjetcts. We have now to consider the other mean of scientific discovery, that, viz., by which, from the pheenomena presented as contingent, we separate what is really necessary, and thus attain to the knowledge, not of merely generalized facts, but of universal laws. This mean may, for distinction s sake, be called Speculation, and its general nature I comprehend in the following paragraph. IT XXI. When the mind does not rest contented with observing and classifying the objects of its experience, but, by a reflective anal3^sis, sunders the con- crete wholes presented to its cogni- tion, throws out of account all that, as contingent, it can think awa^ from, and concen- trates its attention exclusively on those elements which, as necessary conditions of its own acts, it cannot but think ; — by this process it obtains the knowledge of a certain order of facts, — facts of Self -consciousness, which, as essential to all Experience, are not the re- sult of any ; constituting in truth the Laws by which the possibility of our cognitive functions is determined. This process, by which we thus attain to a discrimi> Far. XZI. Speon- latlon, — •• a means of Know- ladg*. 11} A m '190 MODIFIED LOOIC. Explication. native knowledge of the Necessary^ Kativej and, as they are also called, the Noetic, Pure, a priori, or Transcendental, Elements of ThougJU, may be styled Speculative Analysis, Analytic Speculation, or Specular tion simply, j.-id is carefully to be distinguished from Infliction, with which it is not unusually confounded. Tlw t pirical knowledge of which we have hitherto been speaking, does not, however varied and extensive it may be, suffice to satisfy the thinking mind as such ; for our empirical knowledge itself points at certain higher cognitions from which it may ob- tain completion, and which are of a very diiferent character from that by which the mere empirical cognitions them- selves are distinguished. The cognitions are styled, among other names, by those of noetic, pure, or rational, and they are such as cannot, though manifested in experience, be de- rived from experience ; for, as the conditions under which experience is possible, they must be viewed as necessary constituents of the nature of tbi3 thinking principle itself. Philosophers have indeed been found to deny the reality of such cognitions native to the mind ; and to confin^ the whole sphere of human knowledge to the limits of experi- ence. But in this case philosophers have overlooked the important circumstance, that the acts, that is, the appre^ hension and judgment, of experience, are themselves im;^>os8ibIe, except under the supposition of certain potential cognitions previously existent in the thinking subject, and which become actual on occasion of an .object being pre- sented to the external or internal sense. As an example of a noetic cognition, the following propositions may suffice : — An object and all its attributes are convertible ; — All that is has its sufficient cause. The principal distinctions RECORDED TESTIMONY. 191 Principal distinc- tions of Empirical and Noetic Cogni- tions. or above all of Empirical and Rational Knowledges, or rather Empirical and Noetic Cognitions, are the following : — 1°, Empirical Cognitions originate ex- clusively in experience, whereas Noetic Cognitions are virtually at least before experience, — all experience being only possible through them, 2°, Empirical cognitions come piecemeal and successively into existence, and may again gradually fade and disappear ; whereas noetic cognitions, like Pallas, armed and immortal from the head of Jupiter, spring at once into existence, complete and indestructible. 3°, Empirical cognitions find only an application to these objects from which they were originally abstracted, and, according as things obtain a dLSerent form, they also may become differently fashioned ; noetic cognitions, on the contrary, bear the character impressed on them of necessity, universality, sameness. Whether a cognition be empirical or noetic, can only be determined by con- sidering whether it can or cannot be presented in a sensible perception ; — whether it do or do not stand forward clear, diijtinct, and indestructible, bearing the stamp of necessity and absolute universality. The noetic cognitions can be detected only by a critical analysis of the mental phsenomena proposed for the purpose of their discovery ; and this analysis may, as I have said, be styled Speculation, for want of a more appropriate appellation. m m\ ■\:'i\ 1 LECTURE IX.— MOtHFlEB METHODOLOGY. SECTION I.— OF THE ACQUISITION OF KNOWLEDGE. III. COMMUNICATION OF KNOWLEDGE.— A. INSTRUC- TION—ORAL AND WRITTEN.— B. CONFERENCE —DIALOGUE AND DISPUTATION. I NOW go on to the last Mean of Acquiring and Perfect- ing our knowledge ; and commence with the following paragraph : s ' IT XXII. An important mean for the Acquisition and Perfecting of Knowledge is the Communication of Thought. Con- sidered in general, the Communication of thought is either One^sided, or Mutual. The former is called In- struction (inatUtUioJ, the latter, Con- ference (colloi^tio); but these, thoHgh in theory distinct, are in practice easily combine u Instruction is again either Oral or Written ; and Conference, as it is inter- locutory and familiar, or controversial and solemn, may be divided into Dialogue (colloquium^ diaJogiM), and Dispviation fdisputatioy concertatio). The Communi- cation of thought in all its forms is a means of intel- Par. 3rXn. The Oommnnicatlon of Thonght, — as a m ties. (a) Through aytn* patby. (b) Through Oppo- tMon. 196 MODIFIED LOGIC. In the mental as well as in tlie material world, action and reaction are ever equal : and Plutarch well Plutarch. , , . observes, that as motion would cease were contention to be taken out of the physical universe, so pro- gresH in improvement would cease were contention taken out of the moral ; 'ttoA.c/aos aTravnav irarrip. " It is maintained," says the subtle Scaliger, " by Vives, that we profit more by silent meditation Soallger, J. 0. *^ '' than by dispute. This is not true. For as fire is elicited by the collision of stones, so truth is elicited by the collision of minds. I myself (he adds) frequently meditate by myself long and intently; but in vain ; unless I find an antagonist, there is no hope of a suc- cessful issue. By a master we are more excited than by a book ; but an an -jagonist, whether by his pertinacity or his wisdom, is to me a double master." But, in the second place, the necessity of cconmunicating a piece of knowledge to others, imposes upon us the necessity of obtaining a fuller consciousness of that knowledge for our* selves. This result is to a certain extent secured by the very process of clothing our cogitations in words. For speech is an analytic process ; and to express our thoughts in language, it is requisite to evolve them from the implicit into the explicit, from the confused into the distinct, in order to bestow on each part of the organic totality of a thought its precise and appropriate symbol. But to do this is in fact only to accomplish the first step towards the perfecting of our cognitions or thoughts. But the communication of thought, in its higher applica- , 2. By imposing the necessity of olita&iing »f uller conficiousoeu of Icnowledge for our- selves. COMMUNICATION OP KNOWLEDGE. 19Y Influence of Comoo- sition and Instnic- tion in perfecting our Knowledge. Qodwin qtwted. tions, imposes on us far more tlian this ; and in so doing it reacts with a still more beneficial influence on our habits of thinking. Suppose that we are not merely to express our thoughts as they spontaneously arise ; suppose that we are not merely extemporaneously to speak, but deliberately to write, and that what we are to communicate is not a simple and easy, but a complex and dlEiculi, iii&btei. Jii this cabe, no man will ever fully understand his sub- ject who has not studied it with the view of communication, while the power of communicating a subject is the only com- petent criterion of his fully understanding it. " When a man," says Godwin, " writes a book of methodical investigation, he does not write because he understands the subject, but he under- stands the subject because he has written. He was an uninstructed tyro, exposed to a thousand foolish and miser- able mistakes, when he began his work, compared with the degree of proficiency to which he has attained when he has finished it. He who is now an eminent philosopher, or a ' sublime poet, was formerly neither the one nor the other. Many a man has been overtaken by a premature death, and left nothing behind him but compositions worthy of ridicule and contempt, who, if he had lived, would perhaps have risen to the highest literary eminence. If we could examine the school exercises of men who have afterwards done honour to mankind, we should often find them inferior to those of their ordinary competitora. If we could dive into the portfolios of their early youth, we should meet with abundant matter for laughter at their senseless incongmities, and for contemptuous astonishment. 198 MODIFIED LOGIC. " The one exclusive sign," says Aristotle, " that a man is thoroughly cognizant of anything, is that he is able to teach it ;" and Ovid, — ikriatoUe. Plato. Seneca. " Quodqut parum novit nemo docere potetV^ In this reactive effect of the- communication of knowledge in determining the perfection of the knowledge communi- cated, originated the scholastic maxim Doce ut diacas, — a maxim which has unfortunately V»eet» too much overlooked in the schemes of modern educailon. la former ages, teach that you may learn always constituted one at least of the great means of intellectual cultivation. " To teach," says Plato, " is the way for a man to learn most and best." " Homines dum docent discunt" says Seneca. " In teaching," says Clement of Alexandria, " the instructor often learns Clement of Alex- more than his pupils." ' ' Bisce aed a doctis ; Dionyrim Cato. indoctos ipse doceto" is the precept of Dionysius Cato ; and the two following were maxims of authority in the discipline of the middle ages. The first — *'Multa rogare, rogata tenere, retenta docere^ Haec triaf diacipiUum /aciunt auperare magiatrum." The second — " Diacere si quaerk doceas ; tic ipae doceris ; Nam atvdio tali tibi prqficis atque aodali." This truth is also well enforced by the great Vives. " BoC' trina est traditio corum quae quis novit ei qui non novit. Disdplina eat illius tradi- tiania acceptio ; nisi quod mens accipientia impletur, dantif vero non exhatiritur, — imo communicatione augetur entditiOf COMMUiriCATlON OF KNOWLEDGE. 199 Soiidenoa. Inftuence of Che communication of Xiiowledga OI0. equally fulfil certain common requisitos. In the first place, they should be fully masters of Ihe subject with which their instruction is conversant ; and in the second, they should be able and willing to communicate to others the knowledge which they themselves possess. But in reference to these several species of instruction, there are various special rules that ought to be attended to by those who would reap the advantages they severally afford. I shall commence with Written Instruction, and comprise the rules by which it ought to be regulated, in the following paragraph. ^ XXIII. In regtird to Written Instruction, and its profitable employment as a means of intellectual improvement, there are certain rules which ought to be observed, and which together consti- tute the Proper Method of Beading. These may.be reduced to three classes, as they regard, 1**, The Quantity, 2", The Quality, of what is to be read, or, 3°, The Mode of Beading what is to be read. I. As concerns the Quantity of wl:eing a familiar and correct translation of lectio cursoria. But lectio stataria cannot be so well rendered by the expression of stationary reading. "Bead not," says Bacon, in his Fiftieth Essay— r-" read not to contradict and con- fute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discoui-se, but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others are to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested ; that is, some books are to be read only in parts ; others to be read, but not curiously ; and 3ome few to be read wholly and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others ; but that would be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books ; else distilled books are, like common distilled waters, fleshy things." " One kind of book," says the great historian, Johann von Miiller, ** I read with great rapidity, for in these there is much dross fiacon quoted. /ohaan von Muller. COMMUNICATION OP KNOWLEDOK. 211 Fourth Rule. to throw aside, and little gold to be found ; some, however, there are all gold and diamonds, and he who, for example, in Tacitus can read more than twenty pages in four hours, certainly does not understand him." Eapidity in reading depends, however, greatly on our acquaintance with the subject of discussion. At first, upon a science we can only read with profit few books, and labo- riously. By degrees, however, our knowledge of the matters treated expands, the reasonings appear more manifest, . — we advance more easily, until at length we are able, without overlooking anything of importance, to read with a velocity which appears almost incredible for those who are only commencing the study. The Fourth Rule under this head is— " Regulate on the same principle the extracts which you make from the works you read. So much for the Unilateral Communication of thought, as a mean of knowledge. We now proceed to the Mutual Communication of thought, — Conference. This is either mere Conversation,-^mere Pialogue, or Formal Dispute, and at present we consider both pf these exclu> aively only as a means of knowledge, — only as a means for the communication of truth. The employment of Dialogue as such a mean, requires great skill and dexterity ; for presence of mind, confidence, tact, and pUti,bility are necessary for this, and these are only obtained by exercise, independently of natural talent. This was the method which Socrates almostr exclusively employed in the communication of knowledge j and he called it his art of intellectual rmdwifer^^ Conference, — of two kinds. 1. Dialogue 212 MODIFIED LOGIC. 2. Disputation, — Oral and Written. Academical dispu- tation. because in its application truth is not given over by the master to the discipre, but the master, by skilful questioning, only helps the disciple to deliver himself of the truth explicity, which his mind had before held implicitly. This method is not, however, applicable to all kinds of knowledge, but only to those which the human intellect is able to evolve out of itself, that is, only to the cognitions of Pure Reason. Disputation is of two principal kinds, inasmuch as it is oral or written ; and in both cases, the controversy may be con- ducted either by the rules of strict logical disputation, or left to the freedom of debate. Without entering on details, it may be sufficient to state, in regard to Logical disputation, that it is here essential that the point in question, — the statics con- troversice, — the thesis, should, in the first place, be accurately determined, in order to prevent all logomachy, or mere verbal wrangling. This being done, that disputant who denies the thesis, and who is called the op2)onent, may either call upon the disputant who affirms the thesis, and who is called the defendant, to allege an argument in its support, or he may at once himself produce his counter-argument. To avoid, however, all misunderstanding, the opponent should also advance an antithesis, that is, a proposition conflictive with the thesis, and when this has been denied by the defendant the process of argumentation commences. This proceeds in regular syllogisms, and is governed by definite rules, which are all so calculated that the discussion is not allowed to wander from the point at issue, and each disputant is compelled, in reference to every syllogism of }iis adversary, either to admit, or to deny, or lo distinguish. These rules you will f