have frequent opportunities of remarking the influence, which errors
with respect to these mere phenomena of mind must have had, on the
contemporary systems of general physics, and on the spirit of the
prevailing plans of inquiry. It may be enough to remark at present
the influence of one fundamental error, which, as long as it retained
its hold of the understanding, must have rendered all its energies
ineffectual, by wasting them in the search of objects, which it
never could attain, because in truth they had no real existence,--to
the neglect of objects that would have produced the very advantage
which was sought. I allude to the belief of the schools, in the
separate existence, or entity as they technically termed it, of the
various orders of universals, and the mode in which they conceived
every acquisition of knowledge in reasoning, to take place, by the
intervention of certain intelligible forms or species, existing
separately in the intellect, as the direct objects of thought,--in
the same manner as they ascribed simple perception to the action of
species of another order, which they termed sensible species,--the
images of things derived indeed from objects without, but when thus
derived, existing independently of them. When we amuse ourselves with
inquiring into the history of human folly--that most comprehensive
of all histories--which includes, at least for many ages, the whole
history of philosophy; or rather, to use a word more appropriate than
amusement,--when we read with regret the melancholy annals of genius
aspiring to be pre-eminently frivolous, and industry labouring to be
ignorant, we often discover absurdities of the grossest kind, which
almost cease to be absurdities, on account of other absurdities,
probably as gross, which accompany them; and this is truly the case, in
the grave extravagance of the logic of the schools. The scholastic mode
of philosophizing, ridiculous as it now seems, was far from absurd,
when taken in connection with the scholastic philosophy. It was indeed
the only mode of procedure, which that philosophy could consistently
admit. To those who believed that singular objects could afford no real
knowledge, _singularium nullam dari scientiam_: and that this was to be
obtained only from what they termed _intelligible species_, existing
not in external things, but in the intellect itself, it must have
seemed as absurd to wander, in quest of knowledge, out of that region
in which alone they supposed it to exist, and to seek it among things
singular, as it would now, to us, seem hopeless and absurd, to found
a system of physical truths on the contemplation and comparison of
universals. While this false theory of the mental phenomena prevailed,
was it possible, that the phenomena of matter should have been studied
on sounder principles of investigation, when any better plan must have
been absolutely inconsistent with the very theory of thought? It was in
mind that the student of general nature was to seek his guiding light,
without which all then was darkness. The intellectual philosopher, if
any such had then arisen, to analyze simply the phenomena of thought,
without any reference to general physics, would in truth have done more
in that dark age, for the benefit of every physical science, than if he
had discovered a thousand properties of as many different substances.
Let us suppose, for a moment, that an accurate view of the intellectual
process of abstraction could have been communicated to a veteran sage
of the schools, at the very moment when he was intently contemplating
the tree of Porphyry, in all its branches of species and genera,
between the individual and the _summum genus_; and when he was
preparing perhaps, by this contemplation of a few universals, to unfold
all the philosophy of colours, or of the planetary movements, would the
benefit which he received from this clearer view of a single process
of thought have terminated in the mere science of mind--or would not
rather his new views of mind have extended with a most important
influence to his whole wide views of matter?--He must immediately have
learned, that, in the whole tree of genera and species, the individual
at the bottom of his scale was the only real independent existence, and
that all the rest, the result of certain comparisons of agreement or
disagreement, were simple modifications of his own mind, not produced
by any thing existing in his intellect but by the very constitution of
his intellect itself; the consideration of a number of individuals as
of one species being nothing more than the feeling of their agreement
in certain respects, and the feeling of this agreement being as simple
a result of the observation of them together, as the perception of
each, individually, was of its individual presence. It would surely
have been impossible for him, with this new and important light, to
return to his transcendental inquiries, into entities, and quiddities,
and substantial forms; and the simple discovery of a better theory of
abstraction, as a process of the mind, would thus have supplied the
place of many rules of philosophizing.
The philosophy of mind then, we must admit, did, in former ages at
least, exercise an important influence on general science:--and are we
to suppose that it has now no influence?
Even though no other advantage were to be obtained from our present
juster views of mind, than the protection which they give, from those
gross errors of inquiry to which the philosophers of so long a series
of ages were exposed, this alone would surely be no slight gain. But,
great as this advantage is, are we certain, that it is all which the
nicest mental analysis can afford,--or rather, is it not possible at
least, that we may still, in our plans of physical investigation, be
suffering under the influence of errors from which we should be saved,
by still juster views of the faculties employed in every physical
inquiry?
That we are not aware of any such influence, argues nothing; for to
suppose us aware of it, would be to suppose us acquainted with the very
errors which mislead us. Aquinas and Scotus, it is to be presumed, and
all their contentious followers, conceived themselves as truly in the
right path of physical investigation, as we do at this moment; and,
though we are free from their gross mistakes, there may yet be others
of which we are less likely to divest ourselves, from not having as
yet the slightest suspicion of their existence. The question is not,
Whether our method of inquiry be juster than theirs?--for, of our
superiority in this respect, if any evidence of fact were necessary,
the noble discoveries of these later years are too magnificent a proof
to allow us to have any doubt,--but, Whether our plan of inquiry may
not still be susceptible of improvements, of which we have now as
little foresight, as the Scotists and Aquinists of the advantages
which philosophy has received from the general prosecution of the
inductive method? There is, indeed, no reason now to fear, that the
observation of particular objects, with a view to general science,
will be despised as incapable of giving any direct knowledge, and
all real science be confined to universals. “Singularium _datur_
scientia.” But, though a sounder view of one intellectual process
may have banished from philosophy much idle contention, and directed
inquiry to fitter objects, it surely does not therefore follow, that
subsequent improvements in the philosophy of mind are to be absolutely
unavailing. On the contrary, the presumption unquestionably is, that
if by understanding better the simple process of abstraction, we have
freed ourselves from many errors in our plans of inquiry, a still
clearer view of the nature and limits of all the intellectual processes
concerned in the discovery of truth, may lead to still juster views of
philosophizing.
Even at present, I cannot but think that we may trace, in no
inconsiderable degree, the influence of false notions, as to some of
the phenomena of the mind, in misdirecting the spirit of our general
philosophy. I allude in particular, to one very important intellectual
process,--that by which we acquire our knowledge of the relation on
which all physics may be said to be founded. He must have paid little
attention to the history of philosophy, and even to the philosophy of
his own time, who does not perceive, how much the vague and obscure
notions entertained of that intermediate tie, which is supposed to
connect phenomena with each other, have tended to favour the invention
and ready admission of physical hypotheses, which otherwise could not
have been entertained for a moment;--hypotheses, which attempt to
explain what is known by the introduction of what is unknown; as if
successions of phenomena were rendered easier to be understood merely
by being rendered more complicated. This very unphilosophic passion
for complexity, (which, unphilosophic as it is, is yet the passion of
many philosophers,) seems, to me, to arise, in a great measure, from a
mysterious and false view of causation; as involving always, in every
series of changes, the intervention of something unobserved, between
the observed antecedent and the observed effect;--a view which may very
naturally be supposed to lead the mind, when it has observed no actual
intervention, to imagine any thing which is not absolutely absurd, that
it may flatter itself with the pleasure of having discovered a cause.
It is unnecessary, however, to enlarge at present on this subject, as
it must again come before us; when you will perhaps see more clearly,
how much the general diffusion of juster views, as to the nature and
origin of our notion of the connection of events, would tend to the
simplification, not of our theories of mind only, but, in a still
higher degree, of our theories of matter.
The observations already made, I trust, have shown how important, to
the perfection of every science, is an accurate acquaintance with
that intellectual medium, through which alone the objects of every
science become known to us, and with those intellectual instruments,
by which, alike in every science, truth is to be detected and evolved.
On this influence, which the philosophy of mind must always exercise
on general philosophy, I have dwelt the longer, because, important as
the relation is, it is one which we are peculiarly apt to forget; and
the more apt to forget it, on account of that very excellence of the
physical sciences, to which it has itself essentially contributed. The
discoveries, which reward our inquiry into the properties of matter, as
now carried on, on principles better suited to the nature and limits of
our powers of investigation, are too splendid to allow us to look back
to the circumstances which prepared them at a distance; and we avail
ourselves of rules, that are the result of logical analysis, without
reflecting, and almost without knowing, that they are the result of
any analysis whatever. We are, in this respect, like navigators on the
great ocean, who perform their voyage successfully by the results of
observations, of which they are altogether ignorant; who look, with
perfect confidence, to their compass and chart, and think of the stars
as useful only in those early ages, when the pilot, if he ventured
from shore, had no other directors of his course. It is only some more
skilful mariner who is still aware of their guidance; and who knows,
how much he is indebted to the satellites of Jupiter for the accuracy
of that very chart, by which the crowds around him are mechanically
directing their course.
The chief reason, however, for my dwelling so long on this central
and governing relation, which the philosophy of intellect bears to
all other philosophy, is, that I am anxious to impress their relation
strongly on your minds; not so much with a view to the importance
which it may seem to give to the particular science that is to engage
us together, as with a view to those other sciences in which you may
already have been engaged, or which may yet await you in the course
of your studies. The consideration of mind, as universally present
and presiding,--at once the medium of all the knowledge which can be
acquired, and the subject of all the truths of which that knowledge
consists,--gives, by its own unity, a sort of unity and additional
dignity to the sciences, of which their scattered experiments and
observations would otherwise be unsusceptible. It is an unfortunate
effect of physical inquiry, when exclusively devoted to the properties
of external things, to render the mind, in our imagination, subordinate
to the objects on which it is directed; the faculties are nothing,
the objects every thing. The very nature of such inquiry leads us
perpetually without to observe and arrange, and nothing brings us back
to the observer and arranger within; or, if we do occasionally cast an
inquisitive glance on the phenomena of our thought, we bring back with
us what Bacon, in his strong language, calls “the smoke and tarnish
of the furnace;”--the mind seems, to us, to be broken down to the
littleness of the objects which it has, been habitually contemplating;
and we regard the faculties that measure earth and heaven, and that
add infinity to infinity, with a curiosity of no greater interest,
than that with which we inquire into the angles of a crystal, or
the fructification of a moss. “Ludit istis animus,” says one of the
most eloquent of the ancients,--“Ludit istis animus, non proficit;
et philosophiam a fastigio deducit in planum.” To rest in researches
of this minute kind, indeed, if we were absolutely to REST in them,
without any higher and profounder views, would truly be, as he says,
to drag down philosophy from that pure eminence on which she sits, to
the very dust of the plain on which we tread. To the inquirer, however,
whose mind has been previously embued with this first philosophy,
and who has learned to trace, in the wonders of every science, the
wonders of his own intellectual frame, there is no physical research,
however minute its object, which does not at once elevate the mind, and
derive elevation from it. Nothing is truly humble, which can exercise
faculties that are themselves sublime.
----Search, undismayed the dark profound,
Where Nature works in secret; view the beds
Of mineral treasure, and the eternal vault
That bounds the hoary ocean; trace the forms
Of atoms, moving with incessant change,
Their elemental round; behold the seeds
Of being, and the energy of life,
Kindling the mass with ever active flame;
Then to the secrets of the working mind
Attentive turn; from dim oblivion call
Her fleet ideal band; and bid them go
Break through time's barrier, and o'ertake the hour
That saw the heavens created; then declare,
If ought were found in these external scenes
To move thy wonder now.[6]
In the physics of the material universe, there is, it must be owned,
much that is truly worthy of our philosophic admiration, and of the
sublimest exertions of philosophic genius. But even that material world
will appear more admirable, to him who contemplates it, as it were,
from the height of his own mind, and who measures its infinity with the
range of his own limited but aspiring faculties. He is unquestionably
the philosopher most worthy of the name, who unites to the most
accurate knowledge of mind, the most accurate knowledge of all the
physical objects amid which he is placed; who makes each science, to
each, reciprocally a source of additional illumination; and who learns,
from both, the noblest of all the lessons which they can give,--the
knowledge and adoration of that divine Being, who has alike created,
and adapted to each other, with an order so harmonious, the universe of
matter, and the universe of thought.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] Thomson's Poem on the Death of Sir Isaac Newton.
[6] Akenside's Pleasures of Imagination, Book I. v. 512-526.
LECTURE III.
RELATION OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF MIND TO THE SCIENCES AND ARTS MORE
STRICTLY INTELLECTUAL.
In my last Lecture, Gentlemen, I illustrated, at great length, the
relation which the Philosophy of Mind bears to all the other sciences,
as the common centre of each. These sciences I represented, as,
in their relation to the powers of discovery, that are exercised
in them, truly arts, in all the various intellectual processes of
which, the artist is the same, and the instruments the same; and as
to the perfection of any of the mechanical arts, it is essential,
that we know the powers of the instruments employed in it, so, in
the inventive processes of science of every kind, it seems essential
to the perfection of the process, that we should know, as exactly as
possible, the powers and the limits of these intellectual instruments,
which are exercised alike in all,--that we may not waste our industry,
in attempting to accomplish with them what is impossible to be
accomplished, and at the same time may not despair of achieving with
them any of the wonders to which they are truly adequate, if skilfully
and perseveringly exerted; though we should have to overcome many of
those difficulties which present themselves, as obstacles to every
great effort, but which are insurmountable, only to those who despair
of surmounting them.
It was to a consideration of this kind, as to the primary importance
of knowing the questions to which our faculties are competent, that we
are indebted for one of the most valuable works in our science, a work,
which none can read even now, without being impressed with reverence
for the great talents of its author; but of which it is impossible
to feel the whole value, without an acquaintance with the verbal
trifling, and barren controversies, that still perplexed and obscured
intellectual science at the period when it was written.
The work to which I allude is the _Essay on the Human Understanding_,
to the composition of which Mr Locke, in his preface, states himself
to have been led by an accidental conversation with some friends who
had met at his chamber. In the course of a discussion, which had no
immediate relation to the subject of the Essay, they found themselves
unexpectedly embarrassed by difficulties that appeared to rise on every
side, when after many vain attempts to extricate themselves from the
doubts which perplexed them, it occurred to Mr Locke, that they had
taken a wrong course,--that the inquiry in which they were engaged
was probably one which was beyond the reach of human faculties, and,
that their _first_ inquiry should have been, into the nature of the
understanding itself, to ascertain what subjects it was fit to explore
and comprehend.
“When we know our own strength,” he remarks, “we shall the better know
what to undertake with hopes of success: and when we have well surveyed
the powers of our own minds, and made some estimate what we may expect
from them, we shall not be inclined either to sit still, and not set
our thoughts on work at all, in despair of knowing anything; or, on
the other side, question every thing, and disclaim all knowledge,
because some things are not to be understood. It is of great use to
the sailor, to know the length of his line, though he cannot with it
fathom all the depths of the ocean. It is well he knows, that it is
long enough to reach the bottom, at such places as are necessary to
direct his voyage, and caution him against running upon shoals that
may ruin him.--This was that which gave the first rise to this essay
concerning the understanding. For I thought, that the first step
towards satisfying several inquiries, the mind of man was very apt
to run into, was to take a survey of our own understandings, examine
our own powers, and see to what things they were adapted. Till that
was done, I suspected we began at the wrong end, and in vain sought
for satisfaction in a quiet and sure possession of truths that most
concerned us, while we let loose our thoughts into the vast ocean of
being, as if all that boundless extent were the natural and undoubted
possession of our understandings.--Thus men, extending their inquiries
beyond their capacities, and letting their thoughts wander into those
depths, where they can find no sure footing, it is no wonder that they
raise questions and multiply disputes, which, never coming to any clear
resolution, are proper only to continue and increase their doubts, and
to confirm them, at last, in perfect scepticism; whereas, were the
capacities of our understanding well considered, the extent of our
knowledge once discovered, and the horizon found, which sets the bounds
between the enlightened and dark parts of things, between what is and
what is not comprehensible by us, men would perhaps, with less scruple,
acquiesce in the avowed ignorance of the one, and employ their thoughts
and discourse, with more advantage and satisfaction in the other.”[7]
These observations of Mr Locke illustrate, very happily, the importance
of a right view of the limits of our understanding, for directing our
inquiries to the objects that are truly within our reach. It is not the
waste of intellect, as it lies torpid in the great multitude of our
race, that is alone to be regretted in relation to science, which in
better circumstances, it might improve and adorn. It is in many cases,
the very industry of intellect, busily exerted, but exerted in labours
that must be profitless, because the objects, to which the labour is
directed, are beyond the reach of man. If half the zeal, and, I may
add, even half the genius, which, during so many ages, were employed
in attempting things impossible, had been given to investigations, on
which the transcendental inquirers of those times would certainly have
looked down with contempt, there are many names that are now mentioned
only with ridicule or pity, for which we should certainly have felt the
same deep veneration, which our hearts so readily offer to the names of
Bacon and Newton; or perhaps even the great names of Bacon and Newton
might, in comparison with them, have been only of secondary dignity. It
was not by idleness that this high rank of instructors and benefactors
of the world was lost, but by a blind activity more hurtful than
idleness itself. To those who never could have thought of numbering the
population of our own little globe, it seemed an easy matter to number,
with precise arithmetical accuracy, the tribes of angels, and to assign
to each order of spiritual beings its separate duties, and separate
dignities, with the exactness of some heraldic pomp; and, amid all
those visible demonstrations of the Divinity which surround us wherever
we turn our view, there were minds that could think in relation to
him, of every thing but his wisdom and goodness; as if He who created
us, and placed around us this magnificent system of things, were an
object scarcely worthy of our reverence, till we had fixed his precise
station in our logical categories, and had determined, not the majestic
relations which he bears to the universe, as created and sustained by
his bounty, but all the frivolous relations which he can be imagined to
bear to impossibilities and nonentities.
O, son of earth! attempt ye still to rise,
By mountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies!
Heaven still, with laughter, the vain toil surveys,
And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.[8]
It is, indeed, then, to borrow Mr Locke's metaphor, of no slight
importance to know the length of our line, though we cannot, with it,
fathom all the depths of the ocean. With the knowledge, that, to a
certain depth at least, we may safely confide in it, we shall not be
corrupted, by our fear, to coast along the shore, with such cautious
timidity as to lose all the treasures which might be obtained by a
more adventurous voyage; nor tempted in the rashness of ignorance or
despair, to trust ourselves wildly to every wind, though our course
should be amidst rocks and quicksands.