CHAPTER II.

OF INDUCTIONS IMPROPERLY SO CALLED.

§ 1. Induction, then, is that operation of the mind, by which we infer

that what we know to be true in a particular case or cases, will be true

in all cases which resemble the former in certain assignable respects.

In other words, Induction is the process by which we conclude that what

is true of certain individuals of a class is true of the whole class, or

that what is true at certain times will be true in similar circumstances

at all times.

This definition excludes from the meaning of the term Induction, various

logical operations, to which it is not unusual to apply that name.

Induction, as above defined, is a process of inference; it proceeds from

the known to the unknown; and any operation involving no inference, any

process in which what seems the conclusion is no wider than the premises

from which it is drawn, does not fall within the meaning of the term.

Yet in the common books of Logic we find this laid down as the most

perfect, indeed the only quite perfect, form of induction. In those

books, every process which sets out from a less general and terminates

in a more general expression,--which admits of being stated in the form,

"This and that A are B, therefore every A is B,"--is called an

induction, whether anything be really concluded or not: and the

induction is asserted not to be perfect, unless every single individual

of the class A is included in the antecedent, or premise: that is,

unless what we affirm of the class has already been ascertained to be

true of every individual in it, so that the nominal conclusion is not

really a conclusion, but a mere reassertion of the premises. If we were

to say, All the planets shine by the sun's light, from observation of

each separate planet, or All the Apostles were Jews, because this is

true of Peter, Paul, John, and every other apostle,--these, and such as

these, would, in the phraseology in question, be called perfect, and the

only perfect, Inductions. This, however, is a totally different kind of

induction from ours; it is not an inference from facts known to facts

unknown, but a mere short-hand registration of facts known. The two

simulated arguments which we have quoted, are not generalizations; the

propositions purporting to be conclusions from them, are not really

general propositions. A general proposition is one in which the

predicate is affirmed or denied of an unlimited number of individuals;

namely, all, whether few or many, existing or capable of existing, which

possess the properties connoted by the subject of the proposition. "All

men are mortal" does not mean all now living, but all men past, present,

and to come. When the signification of the term is limited so as to

render it a name not for any and every individual falling under a

certain general description, but only for each of a number of

individuals designated as such, and as it were counted off individually,

the proposition, though it may be general in its language, is no general

proposition, but merely that number of singular propositions, written in

an abridged character. The operation may be very useful, as most forms

of abridged notation are; but it is no part of the investigation of

truth, though often bearing an important part in the preparation of the

materials for that investigation.

As we may sum up a definite number of singular propositions in one

proposition, which will be apparently, but not really, general, so we

may sum up a definite number of general propositions in one proposition,

which will be apparently, but not really, more general. If by a separate

induction applied to every distinct species of animals, it has been

established that each possesses a nervous system, and we affirm

thereupon that all animals have a nervous system; this looks like a

generalization, though as the conclusion merely affirms of all what has

already been affirmed of each, it seems to tell us nothing but what we

knew before. A distinction however must be made. If in concluding that

all animals have a nervous system, we mean the same thing and no more as

if we had said "all known animals," the proposition is not general, and

the process by which it is arrived at is not induction. But if our

meaning is that the observations made of the various species of animals

have discovered to us a law of animal nature, and that we are in a

condition to say that a nervous system will be found even in animals yet

undiscovered, this indeed is an induction; but in this case the general

proposition contains more than the sum of the special propositions from

which it is inferred. The distinction is still more forcibly brought out

when we consider, that if this real generalization be legitimate at all,

its legitimacy probably does not require that we should have examined

without exception every known species. It is the number and nature of

the instances, and not their being the whole of those which happen to be

known, that makes them sufficient evidence to prove a general law: while

the more limited assertion, which stops at all known animals, cannot be

made unless we have rigorously verified it in every species. In like

manner (to return to a former example) we might have inferred, not that

all _the_ planets, but that all _planets_, shine by reflected light: the

former is no induction; the latter is an induction, and a bad one, being

disproved by the case of double stars--self-luminous bodies which are

properly planets, since they revolve round a centre.

§ 2. There are several processes used in mathematics which require to be

distinguished from Induction, being not unfrequently called by that

name, and being so far similar to Induction properly so called, that the

propositions they lead to are really general propositions. For example,

when we have proved with respect to the circle, that a straight line

cannot meet it in more than two points, and when the same thing has been

successively proved of the ellipse, the parabola, and the hyperbola, it

may be laid down as an universal property of the sections of the cone.

The distinction drawn in the two previous examples can have no place

here, there being no difference between all _known_ sections of the

cone and _all_ sections, since a cone demonstrably cannot be intersected

by a plane except in one of these four lines. It would be difficult,

therefore, to refuse to the proposition arrived at, the name of a

generalization, since there is no room for any generalization beyond it.

But there is no induction, because there is no inference: the conclusion

is a mere summing up of what was asserted in the various propositions

from which it is drawn. A case somewhat, though not altogether, similar,

is the proof of a geometrical theorem by means of a diagram. Whether the

diagram be on paper or only in the imagination, the demonstration (as

formerly observed[2]) does not prove directly the general theorem; it

proves only that the conclusion, which the theorem asserts generally, is

true of the particular triangle or circle exhibited in the diagram; but

since we perceive that in the same way in which we have proved it of

that circle, it might also be proved of any other circle, we gather up

into one general expression all the singular propositions susceptible of

being thus proved, and embody them in an universal proposition. Having

shown that the three angles of the triangle ABC are together equal to

two right angles, we conclude that this is true of every other triangle,

not because it is true of ABC, but for the same reason which proved it

to be true of ABC. If this were to be called Induction, an appropriate

name for it would be, induction by parity of reasoning. But the term

cannot properly belong to it; the characteristic quality of Induction is

wanting, since the truth obtained, though really general, is not

believed on the evidence of particular instances. We do not conclude

that all triangles have the property because some triangles have, but

from the ulterior demonstrative evidence which was the ground of our

conviction in the particular instances.

There are nevertheless, in mathematics, some examples of so-called

Induction, in which the conclusion does bear the appearance of a

generalization grounded on some of the particular cases included in it.

A mathematician, when he has calculated a sufficient number of the

terms of an algebraical or arithmetical series to have ascertained what

is called the _law_ of the series, does not hesitate to fill up any

number of the succeeding terms without repeating the calculations. But I

apprehend he only does so when it is apparent from _à priori_

considerations (which might be exhibited in the form of demonstration)

that the mode of formation of the subsequent terms, each from that which

preceded it, must be similar to the formation of the terms which have

been already calculated. And when the attempt has been hazarded without

the sanction of such general considerations, there are instances on

record in which it has led to false results.

It is said that Newton discovered the binomial theorem by induction; by

raising a binomial successively to a certain number of powers, and

comparing those powers with one another until he detected the relation

in which the algebraic formula of each power stands to the exponent of

that power, and to the two terms of the binomial. The fact is not

improbable: but a mathematician like Newton, who seemed to arrive _per

saltum_ at principles and conclusions that ordinary mathematicians only

reached by a succession of steps, certainly could not have performed the

comparison in question without being led by it to the _à priori_ ground

of the law; since any one who understands sufficiently the nature of

multiplication to venture upon multiplying several lines of symbols at

one operation, cannot but perceive that in raising a binomial to a

power, the coefficients must depend on the laws of permutation and

combination: and as soon as this is recognised, the theorem is

demonstrated. Indeed, when once it was seen that the law prevailed in a

few of the lower powers, its identity with the law of permutation would

at once suggest the considerations which prove it to obtain universally.

Even, therefore, such cases as these, are but examples of what I have

called Induction by parity of reasoning, that is, not really Induction,

because not involving inference of a general proposition from particular

instances.

§ 3. There remains a third improper use of the term Induction, which it

is of real importance to clear up, because the theory of Induction has

been, in no ordinary degree, confused by it, and because the confusion

is exemplified in the most recent and elaborate treatise on the

inductive philosophy which exists in our language. The error in question

is that of confounding a mere description, by general terms, of a set of

observed phenomena, with an induction from them.

Suppose that a phenomenon consists of parts, and that these parts are

only capable of being observed separately, and as it were piecemeal.

When the observations have been made, there is a convenience (amounting

for many purposes to a necessity) in obtaining a representation of the

phenomenon as a whole, by combining, or as we may say, piecing these

detached fragments together. A navigator sailing in the midst of the

ocean discovers land: he cannot at first, or by any one observation,

determine whether it is a continent or an island; but he coasts along

it, and after a few days finds himself to have sailed completely round

it: he then pronounces it an island. Now there was no particular time or

place of observation at which he could perceive that this land was

entirely surrounded by water: he ascertained the fact by a succession of

partial observations, and then selected a general expression which

summed up in two or three words the whole of what he so observed. But is

there anything of the nature of an induction in this process? Did he

infer anything that had not been observed, from something else which

had? Certainly not. He had observed the whole of what the proposition

asserts. That the land in question is an island, is not an inference

from the partial facts which the navigator saw in the course of his

circumnavigation; it is the facts themselves; it is a summary of those

facts; the description of a complex fact, to which those simpler ones

are as the parts of a whole.

Now there is, I conceive, no difference in kind between this simple

operation, and that by which Kepler ascertained the nature of the

planetary orbits: and Kepler's operation, all at least that was

characteristic in it, was not more an inductive act than that of our

supposed navigator.

The object of Kepler was to determine the real path described by each

of the planets, or let us say by the planet Mars (since it was of that

body that he first established the two of his three laws which did not

require a comparison of planets). To do this there was no other mode

than that of direct observation: and all which observation could do was

to ascertain a great number of the successive places of the planet; or

rather, of its apparent places. That the planet occupied successively

all these positions, or at all events, positions which produced the same

impressions on the eye, and that it passed from one of these to another

insensibly, and without any apparent breach of continuity; thus much the

senses, with the aid of the proper instruments, could ascertain. What

Kepler did more than this, was to find what sort of a curve these

different points would make, supposing them to be all joined together.

He expressed the whole series of the observed places of Mars by what Dr.

Whewell calls the general conception of an ellipse. This operation was

far from being as easy as that of the navigator who expressed the series

of his observations on successive points of the coast by the general

conception of an island. But it is the very same sort of operation; and

if the one is not an induction but a description, this must also be true

of the other.

The only real induction concerned in the case, consisted in inferring

that because the observed places of Mars were correctly represented by

points in an imaginary ellipse, therefore Mars would continue to revolve

in that same ellipse; and in concluding (before the gap had been filled

up by further observations) that the positions of the planet during the

time which intervened between two observations, must have coincided with

the intermediate points of the curve. For these were facts which had not

been directly observed. They were inferences from the observations;

facts inferred, as distinguished from facts seen. But these inferences

were so far from being a part of Kepler's philosophical operation, that

they had been drawn long before he was born. Astronomers had long known

that the planets periodically returned to the same places. When this had

been ascertained, there was no induction left for Kepler to make, nor

did he make any further induction. He merely applied his new conception

to the facts inferred, as he did to the facts observed. Knowing already

that the planets continued to move in the same paths; when he found that

an ellipse correctly represented the past path, he knew that it would

represent the future path. In finding a compendious expression for the

one set of facts, he found one for the other: but he found the

expression only, not the inference; nor did he (which is the true test

of a general truth) add anything to the power of prediction already

possessed.

§ 4. The descriptive operation which enables a number of details to be

summed up in a single proposition, Dr. Whewell, by an aptly chosen

expression, has termed the Colligation of Facts. In most of his

observations concerning that mental process I fully agree, and would

gladly transfer all that portion of his book into my own pages. I only

think him mistaken in setting up this kind of operation, which according

to the old and received meaning of the term, is not induction at all, as

the type of induction generally; and laying down, throughout his work,

as principles of induction, the principles of mere colligation.

Dr. Whewell maintains that the general proposition which binds together

the particular facts, and makes them, as it were, one fact, is not the

mere sum of those facts, but something more, since there is introduced a

conception of the mind, which did not exist in the facts themselves.

"The particular facts," says he,[3] "are not merely brought together,

but there is a new element added to the combination by the very act of

thought by which they are combined.... When the Greeks, after long

observing the motions of the planets, saw that these motions might be

rightly considered as produced by the motion of one wheel revolving in

the inside of another wheel, these wheels were creations of their minds,

added to the facts which they perceived by sense. And even if the

wheels were no longer supposed to be material, but were reduced to mere

geometrical spheres or circles, they were not the less products of the

mind alone,--something additional to the facts observed. The same is the

case in all other discoveries. The facts are known, but they are

insulated and unconnected, till the discoverer supplies from his own

store a principle of connexion. The pearls are there, but they will not

hang together till some one provides the string."

Let me first remark that Dr. Whewell, in this passage, blends together,

indiscriminately, examples of both the processes which I am endeavouring

to distinguish from one another. When the Greeks abandoned the

supposition that the planetary motions were produced by the revolution

of material wheels, and fell back upon the idea of "mere geometrical

spheres or circles," there was more in this change of opinion than the

mere substitution of an ideal curve for a physical one. There was the

abandonment of a theory, and the replacement of it by a mere

description. No one would think of calling the doctrine of material

wheels a mere description. That doctrine was an attempt to point out the

force by which the planets were acted upon, and compelled to move in

their orbits. But when, by a great step in philosophy, the materiality

of the wheels was discarded, and the geometrical forms alone retained,

the attempt to account for the motions was given up, and what was left

of the theory was a mere description of the orbits. The assertion that

the planets were carried round by wheels revolving in the inside of

other wheels, gave place to the proposition, that they moved in the same

lines which would be traced by bodies so carried: which was a mere mode

of representing the sum of the observed facts; as Kepler's was another

and a better mode of representing the same observations.

It is true that for these simply descriptive operations, as well as for

the erroneous inductive one, a conception of the mind was required. The

conception of an ellipse must have presented itself to Kepler's mind,

before he could identify the planetary orbits with it. According to Dr.

Whewell, the conception was something added to the facts. He expresses

himself as if Kepler had put something into the facts by his mode of

conceiving them. But Kepler did no such thing. The ellipse was in the

facts before Kepler recognised it; just as the island was an island

before it had been sailed round. Kepler did not _put_ what he had

conceived into the facts, but _saw_ it in them. A conception implies,

and corresponds to, something conceived: and though the conception

itself is not in the facts, but in our mind, yet if it is to convey any

knowledge relating to them, it must be a conception _of_ something which

really is in the facts, some property which they actually possess, and

which they would manifest to our senses, if our senses were able to take

cognizance of it. If, for instance, the planet left behind it in space a

visible track, and if the observer were in a fixed position at such a

distance from the plane of the orbit as would enable him to see the

whole of it at once, he would see it to be an ellipse; and if gifted

with appropriate instruments and powers of locomotion, he could prove it

to be such by measuring its different dimensions. Nay, further: if the

track were visible, and he were so placed that he could see all parts of

it in succession, but not all of them at once, he might be able, by

piecing together his successive observations, to discover both that it

was an ellipse and that the planet moved in it. The case would then

exactly resemble that of the navigator who discovers the land to be an

island by sailing round it. If the path was visible, no one I think

would dispute that to identify it with an ellipse is to describe it: and

I cannot see why any difference should be made by its not being directly

an object of sense, when every point in it is as exactly ascertained as

if it were so.

Subject to the indispensable condition which has just been stated, I

cannot conceive that the part which conceptions have in the operation of

studying facts, has ever been overlooked or undervalued. No one ever

disputed that in order to reason about anything we must have a

conception of it; or that when we include a multitude of things under a

general expression, there is implied in the expression a conception of

something common to those things. But it by no means follows that the

conception is necessarily pre-existent, or constructed by the mind out

of its own materials. If the facts are rightly classed under the

conception, it is because there is in the facts themselves something of

which the conception is itself a copy; and which if we cannot directly

perceive, it is because of the limited power of our organs, and not

because the thing itself is not there. The conception itself is often

obtained by abstraction from the very facts which, in Dr. Whewell's

language, it is afterwards called in to connect. This he himself admits,

when he observes, (which he does on several occasions,) how great a

service would be rendered to the science of physiology by the

philosopher "who should establish a precise, tenable, and consistent

conception of life."[4] Such a conception can only be abstracted from

the phenomena of life itself; from the very facts which it is put in

requisition to connect. In other cases, no doubt, instead of collecting

the conception from the very phenomena which we are attempting to

colligate, we select it from among those which have been previously

collected by abstraction from other facts. In the instance of Kepler's

laws, the latter was the case. The facts being out of the reach of being

observed, in any such manner as would have enabled the senses to

identify directly the path of the planet, the conception requisite for

framing a general description of that path could not be collected by

abstraction from the observations themselves; the mind had to supply

hypothetically, from among the conceptions it had obtained from other

portions of its experience, some one which would correctly represent the

series of the observed facts. It had to frame a supposition respecting

the general course of the phenomenon, and ask itself, If this be the

general description, what will the details be? and then compare these

with the details actually observed. If they agreed, the hypothesis would

serve for a description of the phenomenon: if not, it was necessarily

abandoned, and another tried. It is such a case as this which gives rise

to the doctrine that the mind, in framing the descriptions, adds

something of its own which it does not find in the facts.

Yet it is a fact surely, that the planet does describe an ellipse; and a

fact which we could see, if we had adequate visual organs and a suitable

position. Not having these advantages, but possessing the conception of

an ellipse, or (to express the meaning in less technical language)

knowing what an ellipse was, Kepler tried whether the observed places of

the planet were consistent with such a path. He found they were so; and

he, consequently, asserted as a fact that the planet moved in an

ellipse. But this fact, which Kepler did not add to, but found in, the

motions of the planet, namely, that it occupied in succession the

various points in the circumference of a given ellipse, was the very

fact, the separate parts of which had been separately observed; it was

the sum of the different observations.

Having stated this fundamental difference between my opinion and that of

Dr. Whewell, I must add, that his account of the manner in which a

conception is selected, suitable to express the facts, appears to me

perfectly just. The experience of all thinkers will, I believe, testify

that the process is tentative; that it consists of a succession of

guesses; many being rejected, until one at last occurs fit to be chosen.

We know from Kepler himself that before hitting upon the "conception" of

an ellipse, he tried nineteen other imaginary paths, which, finding them

inconsistent with the observations, he was obliged to reject. But as Dr.

Whewell truly says, the successful hypothesis, though a guess, ought

generally to be called, not a lucky, but a skilful guess. The guesses

which serve to give mental unity and wholeness to a chaos of scattered

particulars, are accidents which rarely occur to any minds but those

abounding in knowledge and disciplined in intellectual combinations.

How far this tentative method, so indispensable as a means to the

colligation of facts for purposes of description, admits of application

to Induction itself, and what functions belong to it in that department,

will be considered in the chapter of the present Book which relates to

Hypotheses. On the present occasion we have chiefly to distinguish this

process of Colligation from Induction properly so called; and that the

distinction may be made clearer, it is well to advert to a curious and

interesting remark, which is as strikingly true of the former operation,

as it appears to me unequivocally false of the latter.

In different stages of the progress of knowledge, philosophers have

employed, for the colligation of the same order of facts, different

conceptions. The early rude observations of the heavenly bodies, in

which minute precision was neither attained nor sought, presented

nothing inconsistent with the representation of the path of a planet as

an exact circle, having the earth for its centre. As observations

increased in accuracy, and facts were disclosed which were not

reconcileable with this simple supposition; for the colligation of those

additional facts, the supposition was varied; and varied again and again

as facts became more numerous and precise. The earth was removed from

the centre to some other point within the circle; the planet was

supposed to revolve in a smaller circle called an epicycle, round an

imaginary point which revolved in a circle round the earth: in

proportion as observation elicited fresh facts contradictory to these

representations, other epicycles and other excentrics were added,

producing additional complication; until at last Kepler swept all these

circles away, and substituted the conception of an exact ellipse. Even

this is found not to represent with complete correctness the accurate

observations of the present day, which disclose many slight deviations

from an orbit exactly elliptical. Now Dr. Whewell has remarked that

these successive general expressions, though apparently so conflicting,

were all correct: they all answered the purpose of colligation; they all

enabled the mind to represent to itself with facility, and by a

simultaneous glance, the whole body of facts at the time ascertained:

each in its turn served as a correct description of the phenomena, so

far as the senses had up to that time taken cognizance of them. If a

necessity afterwards arose for discarding one of these general

descriptions of the planet's orbit, and framing a different imaginary

line, by which to express the series of observed positions, it was

because a number of new facts had now been added, which it was necessary

to combine with the old facts into one general description. But this did

not affect the correctness of the former expression, considered as a

general statement of the only facts which it was intended to represent.

And so true is this, that, as is well remarked by M. Comte, these

ancient generalizations, even the rudest and most imperfect of them,

that of uniform movement in a circle, are so far from being entirely

false, that they are even now habitually employed by astronomers when

only a rough approximation to correctness is required. "L'astronomie

moderne, en détruisant sans retour les hypothèses primitives, envisagées

comme lois réelles du monde, a soigneusement maintenu leur valeur

positive et permanente, la propriété de représenter commodément les

phénomènes quand il s'agit d'une première ébauche. Nos ressources à cet

égard sont même bien plus étendues, précisément à cause que nous ne nous

faisons aucune illusion sur la réalité des hypothèses; ce qui nous

permet d'employer sans scrupule, en chaque cas, celle que nous jugeons

la plus avantageuse."[5]

Dr. Whewell's remark, therefore, is philosophically correct. Successive

expressions for the colligation of observed facts, or in other words,

successive descriptions of a phenomenon as a whole, which has been

observed only in parts, may, though conflicting, be all correct as far

as they go. But it would surely be absurd to assert this of conflicting

inductions.

The scientific study of facts may be undertaken for three different

purposes: the simple description of the facts; their explanation; or

their prediction: meaning by prediction, the determination of the

conditions under which similar facts may be expected again to occur. To

the first of these three operations the name of Induction does not

properly belong: to the other two it does. Now, Dr. Whewell's

observation is true of the first alone. Considered as a mere

description, the circular theory of the heavenly motions represents

perfectly well their general features: and by adding epicycles without

limit, those motions, even as now known to us, might be expressed with

any degree of accuracy that might be required. The elliptical theory, as

a mere description, would have a great advantage in point of simplicity,

and in the consequent facility of conceiving it and reasoning about it;

but it would not really be more true than the other. Different

descriptions, therefore, may be all true: but not, surely, different

explanations. The doctrine that the heavenly bodies moved by a virtue

inherent in their celestial nature; the doctrine that they were moved by

impact, (which led to the hypothesis of vortices as the only impelling

force capable of whirling bodies in circles,) and the Newtonian

doctrine, that they are moved by the composition of a centripetal with

an original projectile force; all these are explanations, collected by

real induction from supposed parallel cases; and they were all

successively received by philosophers, as scientific truths on the

subject of the heavenly bodies. Can it be said of these, as was said of

the different descriptions, that they are all true as far as they go? Is

it not clear that only one can be true in any degree, and the other two

must be altogether false? So much for explanations: let us now compare

different predictions: the first, that eclipses will occur when one

planet or satellite is so situated as to cast its shadow upon another;

the second, that they will occur when some great calamity is impending

over mankind. Do these two doctrines only differ in the degree of their

truth, as expressing real facts with unequal degrees of accuracy?

Assuredly the one is true, and the other absolutely false.[6]

In every way, therefore, it is evident that to explain induction as the

colligation of facts by means of appropriate conceptions, that is,

conceptions which will really express them, is to confound mere

description of the observed facts with inference from those facts, and

ascribe to the latter what is a characteristic property of the former.

There is, however, between Colligation and Induction, a real

correlation, which it is important to conceive correctly. Colligation is

not always induction; but induction is always colligation. The assertion

that the planets move in ellipses, was but a mode of representing

observed facts; it was but a colligation; while the assertion that they

are drawn, or tend, towards the sun, was the statement of a new fact,

inferred by induction. But the induction, once made, accomplishes the

purposes of colligation likewise. It brings the same facts, which Kepler

had connected by his conception of an ellipse, under the additional

conception of bodies acted upon by a central force, and serves therefore

as a new bond of connexion for those facts; a new principle for their

classification.

Further, the descriptions which are improperly confounded with

induction, are nevertheless a necessary preparation for induction; no

less necessary than correct observation of the facts themselves. Without

the previous colligation of detached observations by means of one

general conception, we could never have obtained any basis for an

induction, except in the case of phenomena of very limited compass. We

should not be able to affirm any predicates at all, of a subject

incapable of being observed otherwise than piecemeal: much less could we

extend those predicates by induction to other similar subjects.

Induction, therefore, always presupposes, not only that the necessary

observations are made with the necessary accuracy, but also that the

results of these observations are, so far as practicable, connected

together by general descriptions, enabling the mind to represent to

itself as wholes whatever phenomena are capable of being so represented.

§ 5. Dr. Whewell has replied at some length to the preceding

observations, re-stating his opinions, but without (as far as I can

perceive) adding anything material to his former arguments. Since,

however, mine have not had the good fortune to make any impression upon

him, I will subjoin a few remarks, tending to show more clearly in what

our difference of opinion consists, as well as, in some measure, to

account for it.

Nearly all the definitions of induction, by writers of authority, make

it consist in drawing inferences from known cases to unknown; affirming

of a class, a predicate which has been found true of some cases

belonging to the class; concluding, because some things have a certain

property, that other things which resemble them have the same

property--or because a thing has manifested a property at a certain

time, that it has and will have that property at other times.

It will scarcely be contended that Kepler's operation was an Induction

in this sense of the term. The statement, that Mars moves in an

elliptical orbit, was no generalization from individual cases to a class

of cases. Neither was it an extension to all time, of what had been

found true at some particular time. The whole amount of generalization

which the case admitted of, was already completed, or might have been

so. Long before the elliptic theory was thought of, it had been

ascertained that the planets returned periodically to the same apparent

places; the series of these places was, or might have been, completely

determined, and the apparent course of each planet marked out on the

celestial globe in an uninterrupted line. Kepler did not extend an

observed truth to other cases than those in which it had been observed:

he did not widen the _subject_ of the proposition which expressed the

observed facts. The alteration he made was in the predicate. Instead of

saying, the successive places of Mars are so and so, he summed them up

in the statement, that the successive places of Mars are points in an

ellipse. It is true, this statement, as Dr. Whewell says, was not the

sum of the observations _merely_; it was the sum of the observations

_seen under a new point of view_.[7] But it was not the sum of _more_

than the observations, as a real induction is. It took in no cases but

those which had been actually observed, or which could have been

inferred from the observations before the new point of view presented

itself. There was not that transition from known cases to unknown,

which constitutes Induction in the original and acknowledged meaning of

the term.

Old definitions, it is true, cannot prevail against new knowledge: and

if the Keplerian operation, as a logical process, be really identical

with what takes place in acknowledged induction, the definition of

induction ought to be so widened as to take it in; since scientific

language ought to adapt itself to the true relations which subsist

between the things it is employed to designate. Here then it is that I

am at issue with Dr. Whewell. He does think the operations identical. He

allows of no logical process in any case of induction, other than what

there was in Kepler's case, namely, guessing until a guess is found

which tallies with the facts; and accordingly, as we shall see

hereafter, he rejects all canons of induction, because it is not by

means of them that we guess. Dr. Whewell's theory of the logic of

science would be very perfect if it did not pass over altogether the

question of Proof. But in my apprehension there is such a thing as

proof, and inductions differ altogether from descriptions in their

relation to that element. Induction is proof; it is inferring something

unobserved from something observed: it requires, therefore, an

appropriate test of proof; and to provide that test, is the special

purpose of inductive logic. When, on the contrary, we merely collate

known observations, and, in Dr. Whewell's phraseology, connect them by

means of a new conception; if the conception does serve to connect the

observations, we have all we want. As the proposition in which it is

embodied pretends to no other truth than what it may share with many

other modes of representing the same facts, to be consistent with the

facts is all it requires: it neither needs nor admits of proof; though

it may serve to prove other things, inasmuch as, by placing the facts in

mental connexion with other facts, not previously seen to resemble them,

it assimilates the case to another class of phenomena, concerning which

real Inductions have already been made. Thus Kepler's so-called law

brought the orbit of Mars into the class ellipse, and by doing so,

proved all the properties of an ellipse to be true of the orbit: but in

this proof Kepler's law supplied the minor premise, and not (as is the

case with real Inductions) the major.

Dr. Whewell calls nothing Induction where there is not a new mental

conception introduced, and everything induction where there is. But this

is to confound two very different things, Invention and Proof. The

introduction of a new conception belongs to Invention: and invention may

be required in any operation, but is the essence of none. A new

conception may be introduced for descriptive purposes, and so it may for

inductive purposes. But it is so far from constituting induction, that

induction does not necessarily stand in need of it. Most inductions

require no conception but what was present in every one of the

particular instances on which the induction is grounded. That all men

are mortal is surely an inductive conclusion; yet no new conception is

introduced by it. Whoever knows that any man has died, has all the

conceptions involved in the inductive generalization. But Dr. Whewell

considers the process of invention which consists in framing a new

conception consistent with the facts, to be not merely a necessary part

of all induction, but the whole of it.

The mental operation which extracts from a number of detached

observations certain general characters in which the observed phenomena

resemble one another, or resemble other known facts, is what Bacon,

Locke, and most subsequent metaphysicians, have understood by the word

Abstraction. A general expression obtained by abstraction, connecting

known facts by means of common characters, but without concluding from

them to unknown, may, I think, with strict logical correctness, be

termed a Description; nor do I know in what other way things can ever be

described. My position, however, does not depend on the employment of

that particular word; I am quite content to use Dr. Whewell's term

Colligation, or the more general phrases, "mode of representing, or of

expressing, phenomena:" provided it be clearly seen that the process is

not Induction, but something radically different.

What more may usefully be said on the subject of Colligation, or of the

correlative expression invented by Dr. Whewell, the Explication of

Conceptions, and generally on the subject of ideas and mental

representations as connected with the study of facts, will find a more

appropriate place in the Fourth Book, on the Operations Subsidiary to

Induction: to which I must refer the reader for the removal of any

difficulty which the present discussion may have left.

A System of Logic: Ratiocinative and Inductive, 7th Edition, Vol. I · 第 2 / 13 章