_identity_; since, if it be manifest, that there is an universal,
immediate, and irresistible impression of our identity,--an impression,
which cannot be traced to any law of thought more simple,--its truth
is established by a species of evidence, which must be allowed to
be valid, before the very objections can be put, in which it is
professedly denied;--every objection, however sceptical, involving, as
we have seen, and necessarily involving, the assertion of some such
intuitive proposition, from which alone its authority, if it have any
authority, is derived. In endeavouring to move the whole world of truth
with his lever, there must still be some little spot at least, on which
the sceptic must be content to rest his foot as firmly as others. Δὸς
ποῦ στῶ, he must still be condemned to say with Archimedes; and if we
allow no resting-place to his foot,--or, even allowing him this, if
we allow no fulcrum for the instrument which he uses, he may contract
or lengthen his lever at pleasure; but all the efforts, which in such
circumstances, he can make, will exhibit nothing so striking to those
by whom the efforts are witnessed, as the laborious impotence of him
who employs them. To deny any first principles of intuitive belief,
that are not themselves to stand in need of a demonstration,--which, as
a demonstration, or series of consecutive propositions, can be founded,
in its primary evidence, only on some principle of the same kind,--is,
indeed, for such a sceptical mechanic, to set his foot upon air, rather
than on the ground, on which all around him are standing, and to throw
away the single fulcrum on which his lever rests, and from which alone
all its power is derived.
The belief of our mental identity, then, we may safely conclude,
is founded on an essential principle of our constitution,--in
consequence of which, it is _impossible_ for us to consider our
_successive_ feelings, without regarding them as truly _our_ successive
feelings--states, or affections of one thinking substance. But though
the belief of the identity of the substance which thinks, is thus
established on the firmest of all grounds, the very ground, as we
have seen, on which demonstration itself is founded,--even though no
particular fallacy could be traced in the objections brought against
it, which I detailed in my last Lecture,--it is still an interesting
inquiry, in what the fallacy of the objections consists; and the
inquiry is the more interesting, as it will lead us to some remarks and
distinctions, which, I flatter myself, will throw some light on the
philosophy of all the changes, material as well as mental, that are
every moment taking place in the universe.
The objections brought against the identity of the mind, from a
supposed incompatibility of its _diversities_ of state with _sameness_
of substance, appear to me to depend on the assumption of a test of
identity, transferred, without sufficient reason, from the obvious
appearances of matter to mind, and which, if _matter_ be accurately
considered, is equally false, too, as applied to _it_. The cause of
the transference, however, from the obvious material appearances, is
a very natural one,--the same, which has included so many analogies,
from external things, in the language, which we employ to express
the intellectual functions. It is with the changes of the material
substances around us, that all our operations, which leave any fixed
and permanent marks of our agency, are immediately concerned. It is
indeed only through them, that our communication with other minds
can be at all carried on; and it is not wonderful, therefore, that,
in considering the nature of _change_, of every kind, our philosophy
should be strongly tainted with prejudices, derived from the material
world, the _scene_ of all the immediate and lasting changes, which
it is in our power to produce. How much the mere materialism of our
language has itself operated, in darkening our conceptions of the
nature of the mind, and of its various phenomena, is a question,
which is obviously beyond our power to solve; since the solution of
it would imply, that the mind of the solver was itself free from the
influence which he traced and described. But of this, at least, we may
be sure, that it is almost impossible for us to estimate the influence
too highly; for we must not think, that its effect has been confined
to the works of philosophers. It has acted, much more powerfully, in
the familiar discourse, and silent reflections of multitudes, that
have never had the vanity to rank themselves as philosophers,--thus
incorporating itself, as it were, with the very essence of human
thought. In that rude state of social life, in which languages had
their origin, the inventor of a word probably thought of little more,
than the temporary facility, which it might give to himself and his
companions, in communicating their mutual wants, and concerting their
mutual schemes of co-operation. He was not aware, that, with this
faint and perishing sound, which a slight difference of breathing
produced, he was creating that which was afterwards to constitute
one of the most imperishable of things, and to form, in the minds
of millions, during every future age, a part of the complex lesson
of their intellectual existence,--giving rise to lasting systems of
opinions, which, perhaps, but for the invention of this single word,
never could have prevailed for a moment, and modifying sciences, the
very elements of which had not then begun to exist. The inventor of
the most barbarous term may thus have had an influence on mankind,
more important, than all which the most illustrious conqueror could
effect, by a long life of fatigue, and anxiety, and peril, and guilt.
Of the generalship of Alexander, and the valour of his armies,--of all
which he suffered, and planned, and executed, what permanent vestiges
remain, but in the writings of historians! In a very few years, after
the termination of his dazzling career, every thing on the earth was
almost as if he had never been. A few phrases of Aristotle achieved a
much more extensive and lasting conquest, and are, perhaps, even at
this moment, exercising no small sway on the very minds which smile at
them with scorn, and which, in tracing the extent of their melancholy
influence on the progress of science, in centuries that are past, are
unconscious that they are describing and lamenting prejudices, of which
they are themselves still, in a great measure, the slaves. How many
truths are there, of which we are ignorant, merely because one man
lived!
To return, however, to the objections, which we are to consider.
Diversity of any kind, it is said, is inconsistent with absolute
identity, in any case, and in the _mind_, which is by supposition
_indivisible_, nothing can be added to it or taken away, and no
internal change can take place, in the relative positions and
affinities of parts which it has not. Joy and sorrow are _different_
in themselves; that which is joyful, therefore, and that which is
sorrowful, cannot be _precisely_ the same, or diversity of any
kind might be consistent with absolute identity. That the joyful
and sorrowful mind are precisely the same, is not asserted, if the
sameness be meant to imply sameness of state; for it is admitted,
that the _state_ of the mind is different in joy and sorrow! and the
only question is, whether this difference, to which we give the name
of difference of state, be incompatible with complete and absolute
sameness of substance.
The true key to the sophistry is, as I have already said, that it
assumes a false test of identity, borrowed, indeed, from the obvious
appearances of the material world, but from these obvious appearances
only. Because diversity of any kind seems, in these familiar cases, to
be inconsistent with absolute identity, we draw hastily the _universal_
conclusion, that it is inconsistent with absolute identity in any case.
Paradoxical as the assertion may appear, however, we may yet safely
assert, that, not in mind only, but, as we shall find, in matter also;
some sort of diversity is so far from being inconsistent with absolute
identity, that there is scarcely a single moment, if, indeed, there be
a single moment, in which every atom in the universe is not constantly
changing the tendencies that form its physical character, without
the slightest alteration of its own absolute identity; so that the
variety of states or tendencies of the same identical mind, in joy and
sorrow, ignorance and knowledge, instead of being opposed, as you might
think, by the general analogy of nature, is in exact harmony with that
general analogy. It is from our view of _matter_, unquestionably, as
implying, in all its visible changes of state, some loss of identity,
some addition or subtraction of particles, or change of their form of
combination, that the objection, with respect to the identity of the
_mind_, during its momentary or lasting changes of state, is derived;
and yet we shall find, that it is only when we consider even matter
itself superficially and slightly, that we ascribe the changes which
take place in it, to circumstances that affect its identity. To view it
more profoundly and accurately, is to observe, even in matter, constant
changes of state, where the identity has continued entire, and changes
as opposite, as those of the mind itself, when, at different periods,
it presents itself in different aspects, as sad and cheerful, ignorant
and wise, cruel and benevolent.
The apparent mystery of the continued identity of one simple and
indivisible mind, in all the variety of states, of which it is
susceptible, is thus in a great measure, solved, when we find this
union of variety and sameness to be the result of a law that is not
limited to our spiritual being, but extends to the whole universe,
or at least to every thing which we know in the universe. It can no
longer appear to us peculiarly wonderful, that the mind should exist at
different moments in opposite states, and yet be the same in its own
absolute nature, when we shall find that this compatibility is true of
every atom around us, as much as of the mind itself.
LECTURE XIV.
CONTINUATION OF THE ANSWER TO OBJECTIONS AGAINST THE DOCTRINE OF MENTAL
IDENTITY.
My Lecture yesterday was, in a great measure, employed in illustrating
the primary evidence of those principles of _intuitive assent_, to
which we traced our belief of the identity of the mind as one and
permanent, in all the variety of its ever-changing affections. I
explained to you, particularly with a view to that vague and not very
luminous controversy, in which Dr Priestley was engaged with some
philosophers of this part of the Island, in what manner the truth of
these intuitive propositions must be assumed or admitted by all who
reason, even by the wildest sceptic who professes to question them;
pointing out to you, at the same time, the danger to which two of
the strongest principles of our constitution, our indolence and our
love of knowledge, alike expose us--the danger of believing too soon
that we have arrived at truths which are susceptible of any minuter
analysis. In conformity, therefore, with the caution which this danger
renders necessary, we examined the belief of our continued identity;
and we found it to possess the distinguishing marks, which I ventured
to lay down as the three great characters of intuition, that it is
_universal_, _immediate_, and _irresistible_;--so universal, that even
the very maniac, who conceives that he was yesterday emperor of the
Moon, believes that he is to-day the very person who had yesterday that
empire--so immediate, that we cannot consider any two feelings, of our
mind as successive, without instantly considering them as feelings of
our mind, that is to say, as states of one permanent substance, and so
irresistible that even to doubt of our identity, if it were possible
for us truly to doubt of it, would be to believe, that our mind, which
doubts, is that very mind which has reflected and reasoned on the
subject.
Having thus stated the _positive_ ground of belief, in our spiritual
identity, I proceeded to consider the _negative_ evidence which
might arise from the confutation of the objections urged against
it,--objections drawn from the supposed incompatibility of the changes
of our mental affections, with that strict absolute identity of
substance, to which nothing can have been added, and from which nothing
can have been taken away. The test of identity, which this supposed
incompatibility implies, I stated to be a very false one, transferred
from matter to mind, and borrowed, not from a philosophical, but from a
very superficial view even of matter itself. If it appear, on a closer
inquiry, that matter itself, without the slightest loss of identity,
exists at different moments, in states which are not merely different
but opposite, and exists in almost infinite variety of such states, it
cannot surely seem wonderful, that the mind also should, without the
slightest loss of its identity, exist at different moments, in states
that are different and opposite.
That a superficial view of matter, as it presents itself to our mere
organs of sense, should lead us to form a different opinion, is,
however, what might readily be supposed, because the analogies, which
that superficial view presents, are of a kind that seem to mark a loss
of identity whenever the state itself is altered.
In experimental philosophy, and in the obvious natural phenomena of
the material world, whenever a body changes its state, some addition
or separation has previously taken place. Thus, water becomes steam
by the addition, and it becomes ice by the loss, of a portion of that
matter of heat which is termed by chemists _caloric_; which loss and
addition are, of course, inconsistent with the notion of absolute
numerical identity of the corpuscles, in the three states of water as
a solid, a liquid, and a gaseous vapour. _Perception_, by which the
mind is metaphorically said to acquire knowledge, and _forgetfulness_,
by which it is metaphorically said to lose knowledge, have, it must be
confessed, a very striking analogy to these processes of corpuscular
loss and gain; and, since absolute identity _seems_ to be inconsistent
with a change of state in the one set of phenomena, with which we are
constantly familiar, we find difficulty in persuading ourselves, that
it is not inconsistent with a change of state in the other set also.
It is a difficulty of the same kind as that which every one must
have felt, when he learned, for the first time, the simple physical
law, that matter is indifferent as to the states of motion and rest,
and that it requires, therefore, as much force to destroy completely
the motion of a body, as to give it that motion when at rest. We have
not been accustomed to take into account the effects of _friction_,
and of atmospherical resistance, in gradually destroying, without the
interference of any visible force, the motion of a ball, which we are
conscious of effort in rolling from our hand; and we think, therefore,
that rest is the natural state of a body, and that it is the very
nature of motion to cease spontaneously. “Dediscet animus sero, quod
dedicit diu.” It is a very just saying of a French writer, that “it is
not easy to persuade men to put their _reason_ in the place of their
_eyes_; and that when, for example, after a thousand proofs, they are
reasonable enough to do their best to believe, that the planets are so
many opaque, solid, habitable orbs, like our earth, they do not believe
it in the same manner as they would have done if they had never looked
upon them in another light. There still comes back upon their belief
something of the first notion which they had, that clings to them with
an obstinacy, which it requires a continual effort to shake off.”[49]
It is, then, because some substantial loss or gain does truly take
place in the changing phenomena of the bodies immediately around us,
to which we are accustomed to pay our principal attention, that we
learn to regard a change of state in matter as significant of loss
of identity, and to feel, therefore, some hesitation in admitting
the mental changes of state to be consistent with absolute sameness
of substance. Had our observation of the _material_ phenomena been
different, there would have been a corresponding difference in our view
of the changes of the phenomena of the mind.
If, for example, instead of previously gaining or losing caloric,--as
in the constitution of things of which we have our present
experience,--the particles of the water had suddenly assumed the
state of _vapour_ on the sounding of a trumpet at a distance, and the
state of _ice_ immediately on the rising of the sun,---in short, if
the different changes of state in bodies, by which their physical
character for the time seems, in many cases, to be wholly altered, had
occurred without any apparent loss or gain of substance, we should
then no longer have found the same difficulty in admitting the changes
of state in mind as consistent with its identity; and the sentient
substance, which previously existed in a different state, might then,
on the sounding of a trumpet, have been conceived by us to begin to
exist, in the state which constitutes that particular sensation of
hearing, or, on the rising of the sun, to exist in that different
state which constitutes the sun's change of colour as readily as the
material substance, previously existing in the form of water, to begin
at the same moment, without any essential or numerical change, and
consequently with perfect identity, to exist in the new state of steam,
or in the state of a chrystalline mass, as solid as the rock from which
it hangs as an icicle, or that glitters with its gemmy covering.
But it may be said, that the very supposition which we now make is an
absurd one; that the mere presence of the sun in the firmament, at a
distance from the water, cannot be supposed to convert it into ice,
unless the water gain or lose something, and consequently cease to
have absolute identity; and that the case, therefore, is of no value,
as illustrating the compatibility of change of state in our various
sensations, with unaltered identity of the sentient mind. To this I
might answer, that although the presence of the sun certainly does not
operate in the manner supposed,--as the sequences of events are now
arranged in the great system of nature,--it is only by experience, and
not by intuition or reasoning, we know, that the presence of the sun
has not the very effect which the separation of caloric now produces,
and that there is nothing absolutely more wonderful in the one case
than in the other. If our experience had been the reverse of this,--if
the change of place of a few particles of caloric had not, as now,
converted the liquid water into that solid congeries of crystals
which we call ice,--we should then have found as little difficulty
in conceiving that it should not have this effect, as we now find in
adapting our belief to the particular series of events which constitute
our present experience.
It is not necessary, however, to have recourse to suppositions
of this kind; since the system of nature, even according to our
present experience of it, furnishes sufficient proof of changes as
wonderful in the state of bodies produced obviously at a distance,
and, therefore, without any loss or addition which can affect their
identity. For sufficient evidence of this, I need appeal only to the
agency of the celestial _gravitation_; that gigantic energy of nature
which fills the universe, like the immediate presence of the Deity
himself,--to which, in the immensity of its influence, the distances,
not from planets to planets merely, but from suns to suns, are like
those invisible spaces between the elements of the bodies around us,
that seem actual contact to our eyes,--and in comparison with which,
the powers, that play their feeble part in the physical changes on the
surface of our earth, are as inconsiderable as the atoms, on which they
exercise their little dominion, are to the massy orbs which _it_ wields
and directs at will,--
“Those bright millions of the heavens,
Of which the least full Godhead had proclaim'd,
And thrown the gazer on his knee.”--“Admire
The tumult untumultuous! All on wing,
in motion all; yet what profound repose!
What fervid action, yet no noise!--as aw'd
To silence by the presence of their Lord.”
The action of these great planetary bodies on each other,--it surely
cannot be denied,--leaves them separate identities, precisely as
before; and it is a species of agency, so essential to the magnificent
harmony of the system, that we cannot conceive it to have been
interrupted, for a single moment, since the universe itself was formed.
An action, therefore, has been constantly taking place on all the
bodies in the universe,--and consequently a difference of some sort
produced,--which yet leaves their identities unaffected. But, though
the identity of the substance of the separate orbs is not affected
by their mutual attractions, the _state_, or temporary physical
character, of these orbs,--considered individually as one great
whole,--_must_ be affected,--or it would be absurd to speak of their
mutual agency at all; for action implies the sequence of a change of
some sort, and there can be no action, therefore, where the substances
continue precisely the same, and their state also precisely the same,
as before the action. Accordingly, we find, on our own globe, that
great changes of state, such as form the most striking of its regular
visible phenomena, are produced by this distant operation. The waters
of our ocean, for example, rise and fall,--and, therefore, must have
altered states, or physical tendencies, in consequence of which they
rise and fall, as there is no corresponding addition or subtraction of
matter,--at regular intervals,--which it is in our power to predict
with infallible accuracy,--not because we can divine any loss of
identity in the fluid mass,--any internal change in its elementary
composition, or the nature and varieties of the winds, which are to
sweep along its surface,--but because we know well, at what hours, and
in what relative situation, a certain great body, at the distance of
some hundreds of thousands of miles, is to be passing along the heavens.
If, then, the mere position of a distant heavenly body can cause
the particles of our ocean to arrange themselves in a different
configuration,--from that in which they would otherwise have existed,
and, therefore, must have produced in the particles that change of
state, which forces them, as it were, into this altered form,--without
addition to them of any thing, or subtraction of any thing,--in short,
leaving in them the same absolute numerical or corpuscular identity as
before,--there surely can be no greater difficulty, in supposing, as
in the case before imagined, that a certain position of the sun might
have immediately caused the particles of a distant liquid, to arrange
themselves in the particular configuration, that constitutes the solid
ice,--which, though perhaps a more striking change of state, would
not have been more truly a change of state, than that, which it now
unquestionably produces, in modifying the rise or fall of our tides.
And, if a distant body can produce in _matter_ a change of state,
without affecting its identity, by any addition or subtraction, we may
surely admit, that the presence of an external body, as in perception,
may, in _mind_ also, produce a change of state, without affecting its
identity; unless indeed, (which is not impossible, because nothing
is impossible to human folly,) we should be inclined to reverse our
prejudices, and maintain, that matter may be easily conceived to change
the affinities or tendencies that form its physical character, in the
particular circumstances observed, without any addition or subtraction
of substance, but that some positive addition or subtraction of
substance is, notwithstanding, essential to the simple changes or
affections of the mind.