[1] It is certain, then, that a part of our notion of a body consists of
the notion of a number of sensations of our own, or of other sentient
beings, habitually occuring simultaneously. My conception of the table
at which I am writing is compounded of its visible form and size, which
are complex sensations of sight; its tangible form and size, which are
complex sensations of our organs of touch and of our muscles; its
weight, which is also a sensation of touch and of the muscles; its
colour, which is a sensation of sight; its hardness, which is a
sensation of the muscles; its composition, which is another word for all
the varieties of sensation which we receive under various circumstances
from the wood of which it is made; and so forth. All or most of these
various sensations frequently are, and, as we learn by experience,
always might be experienced simultaneously, or in many different orders
of succession, at our own choice: and hence the thought of any one of
them makes us think of the others, and the whole becomes mentally
amalgamated into one mixed state of consciousness, which, in the
language of the school of Locke and Hartley, is termed a complex idea.
[2] For, as our conception of a body is that of an unknown exciting
cause of sensations, so our conception of a mind is that of an unknown
recipient, or percipient, of them; and not of them alone, but of all our
other feelings. As body is the mysterious something which excites the
mind to feel, so mind is the mysterious something which feels and
thinks. It is unnecessary to give in the case of mind, as we gave in the
case of matter, a particular statement of the sceptical system by which
its existence as a Thing in itself, distinct from the series of what are
denominated its states, is called in question. But it is necessary to
remark, that on the inmost nature of the thinking principle, as well as
on the inmost nature of matter, we are, and with our faculties must
always remain entirely in the dark. All which we are aware of, even in
our own minds, is (in the words of Mr. Mill) a certain "thread of
consciousness"; a series of feelings, that is, of sensations, thoughts,
emotions, and volitions, more or less numerous and complicated.
[3] "Feelings, states of consciousness."
[4] Every attribute of a mind consists either in being itself affected
in a certain way, or affecting other minds in a certain way. Considered
in itself, we can predicate nothing of it but the series of its own
feelings. When we say of any mind, that it is devout, or superstitions,
or meditative, or cheerful, we mean that the ideas, emotions, or
volitions implied in those words, form a frequently recurring part of
the series of feelings, or states of consciousness, which fill up the
sentient existence of that mind.
In addition, however, to those attributes of a mind which are grounded
on its own states of feeling, attributes may also be ascribed to it, in
the same manner as to a body, grounded on the feelings which it excites
in other minds. A mind does not, indeed, like a body, excite sensations,
but it may excite thoughts or emotions. The most important example of
attributes ascribed on this ground, is the employment of terms
expressive of approbation of blame. When, for example, we say of any
character, or (in other words) of any mind, that it is admirable, we
mean that the contemplation of it excites the sentiment of admiration;
and indeed somewhat more, for the word implies that we not only feel
admiration, but approve that sentiment in ourselves. In some cases,
under the semblance of a single attribute, two are really predicated:
one of them, a state of the mind itself, the other, a state with which
other minds are affected by thinking of it. As when we say of any one
that he is generous, the word generosity expresses a certain state of
mind, but being a term of praise, it also expresses that this state of
mind excites in us another mental state, called approbation. The
assertion made, therefore, is twofold, and of the following purport:
Certain feelings form habitually a part of this person's sentient
existence; and the idea of those feelings of his excites the sentiment
of approbation in ourselves or others.
[5] Take the following example: A generous person is worthy of honour.
Who would expect to recognize here a case of coexistence between
phenomena? But so it is. The attribute which causes a person to be
termed generous, is ascribed to him on the ground of states of his mind,
and particulars of his conduct: both are phenomena; the former are facts
of internal consciousness, the latter, so far as distinct from the
former, are physical facts, or perceptions of the senses. Worthy of
honour, admits a similar analysis. Honour, as here used, means a state
of approving and admiring emotion, followed on occasion by corresponding
outward acts. "Worthy of honour" connotes all this, together with our
approval of the act of showing honour. All these are phenomena, states
of internal consciousness, accompanied or followed by physical facts.
When we say, A generous person is worthy of honour, we affirm
coexistence between the two complicated phenomena connoted by the two
terms respectively. We affirm, that wherever and whenever the inward
feelings and outward facts implied in the word generosity have place,
then and there the existence and manifestation of an inward feeling,
honour, would be followed in our minds by another inward feeling,
approval.
[6] Selon les logiciens idéalistes, on démêle cet être en consultant
cette notion, et l'idée décomposée met l'essence à nu. Selon les
logiciens classificateurs, on atteint cet être en logeant l'objet dans
son groupe, et l'on définit cette notion en nommant le genre voisin et
la différence propre. Les uns et les autres s'accordent à croire que
nous pouvons saisir l'essence.
[7] An essential proposition, then, is one which is purely verbal; which
asserts of a thing under a particular name only what is asserted of it
in the fact of calling it by that name; and which therefore either gives
no information, or gives it respecting the name, not the thing.
Non-essential, or accidental propositions, on the contrary, may be
called Real Propositions, in opposition to Verbal. They predicate of a
thing some fact not involved in the signification of the name by which
the proposition speaks of it; some attribute not connoted by that name.
[8] The definition, they say; unfolds the nature of the thing: but no
definition can unfold its whole nature; and every proposition in which
any quality whatever is predicated of the thing, unfolds some part of
its nature. The true state of the case we take to be this. All
definitions are of names, and of names only; but, in some definitions,
it is clearly apparent, that nothing is intended except to explain the
meaning of the word; while in others, besides explaining the meaning of
the word, it is intended to be implied that there exists a thing,
corresponding to the word.
[9] The definition above given of a triangle, obviously comprises not
one, but two propositions, perfectly distinguishable. The one is, "There
may exist a figure bounded by three straight lines;" the other, "And
this figure may be termed a triangle". The former of these propositions
is not a definition at all; the latter is a mere nominal defition, or
explanation of the use and application of a term. The first is
susceptible of truth or falsehood, and may therefore be made the
foundation of a train of reasoning. The latter can neither be true nor
false; the only character it is susceptible of is that of conformity to
the ordinary usage of language.
[10] The mortality of John, Thomas and company is, after all, the whole
evidence we have for the mortality of the duke of Wellington. Not one
iota is added to the proof by interpolating a general proposition. Since
the individual cases are all the evidence we can possess, evidence which
no logical form into which we choose to throw it can make greater than
it is; and since that evidence is either sufficient in itself, or, if
insufficient for the one purpose, cannot be sufficient for the other; I
am unable to see why we should be forbidden to take the shortest cut
from these sufficient premisses to the conclusion, and constrained to
travel the "high priori road", by the arbitrary fiat of logicians.
[11] All inference is from particulars to particulars: General
propositions are merely registers of such inferences already made, and
short formulae for making more: The major premiss of a syllogism,
consequently, is a formula of this description: and the conclusion is
not an inference drawn _from_ the formula, but an inference drawn
_according_ to the formula: the real logical antecedent, or premisses,
being the particular facts from which the general proposition was
collected by induction. Those facts, and the individual instances which
supplied them, may have been forgotten; but a record remains, not indeed
descriptive of the facts themselves, but showing how those cases may be
distinguished respecting which the facts, when known, were considered to
warrant a given inference. According to the indications of this record
we draw our conclusion, which is, to ail intents and purposes, a
conclusion from the forgotten facts. For this it is essential that we
should read the record correctly: and the rules of the syllogism are a
set of precautions to ensure our doing so.
[12] If we had sufficiently capacious memories, and a sufficient power
of maintaining order among a huge masse of details, the reasoning could
go on without any general propositions; they are mere formulae for
inferring particulars from particulars.
[13] For though, in order actually to see that two given lines never
meet, it would be necessary to follow them to infinity; yet without
doing so, we may know that if they ever do meet, or if, after diverging
from one another, they begin again to approach, this must take place not
at an infinite, but at a finite distance. Supposing, therefore, such to
be the case, we can transport ourselves thither in imagination, and can
frame a mental image of the appearance which one or both of the lines
must present at that point, which we may rely on as being precisely
similar to the reality. Now, whether we fix our contemplation upon this
imaginary picture, or call to mind the generalizations we have had
occasion to make from former ocular observation, we learn by the
evidence of experience, that a line which, after diverging from another
straight line, begins to approach to it, produces the impression on our
senses which we describe by the expression "a bent line", not by the
expression, "a straight line".
[14] 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.
[15] We must first observe, that there is a principe implied in the very
statement of what Induction is; an assumption with regard to the course
of nature and the order of universe: namely, that there are such things
in nature as parallel cases; that what happens once, will, under a
sufficient degree of similarity of circumstances, happen again, and not
only again, but as often as the same circumstances recur. This, I say,
is an assumption, involved in every case of induction. And, if we
consult the actual course of nature, we find that the assumption is
warranted. The universe, we find, is so constitued, that whatever is
true in any one case, is true at all cases of a certain description; the
only difficulty is, to find _what_ description.
[16] Why it is that, with exactly the same amount of evidence, both
negative and positive, we did not reject the assertion that there are
black swans while we should refuse credence to any testimony which
asserted there were men wearing their heads underneath their shoulders.
The first assertion was more credible than the latter. But why more
credible? So long as neither phenomenon had been actually witnessed,
what reason was there for finding the one harder to be believed than the
other? Apparently, because there is less constancy in the colours of
animals, than in the generai structure of their internal anatomy. But
how do we know this? Doubtless, from experience. It appears, then, that
we need experience to inform us in what degree, and in what cases, or
sorts of cases, experience is to be relied on. Experience must be
consulted in order to learn from it under what circumstances arguments
from it will be valid. We have no ulterior test to which we subject
experience in general; but we make experience its own test. Experience
testifies that among the uniformities which it exhibits or seems to
exhibit, some are more to be relied on than others; and uniformity,
therefore, may be presumed, from any given number of instances, with a
greater degree of assurance, in proportion as the case belongs to a
class in which the uniformities have hitherto been found more uniform.
[17] Tome I, p. 338, 340, 341, 345, 351.
[18] The only notion of a cause, which the theory of induction requires,
is such a notion as can be gained from experience. The Law of Causation,
the recognition of which is the main pillar of inductive science, is but
the familiar truth, that invariability of succession is found by
observation to obtain between every fact in nature and some other fact
which has preceded it; independently of all consideration respecting the
ultimate mode of production of phenomena, and of every other question
regarding the nature of "Things in themselves ".
[19] The real Cause, is the whole of these antecedents.
[20] The cause, then, philosophically speaking, is the sum total of the
conditions, positive and negative, taken together; the whole of the
contingencies of every description, which being realized, the consequent
invariably follows.
[21] If there be any meaning which confessedly belongs to the term
necessity, it is _unconditionalness_. That which is necessary, that
which _must_ be, means that which will be, whatever supposition we may
make in regard to all other things.
[22] 1° Prenons cinquante creusets de matière fondue qu'on laisse
refroidir, et cinquante dissolutions qu'on laisse évaporer; toutes
cristallisent. Soufre, sucre, alun, chlorure de sodium, les substances,
les températures, les circonstances sont aussi différentes que possible.
Nous y trouvons un fait commun et un seul, le passage de l'état liquide
à l'état solide; nous concluons que ce passage est l'antécédent
invariable de la cristallisation. Voilà un exemple de la méthode de
concordance: sa règle fondamentale est que «si deux ou plusieurs cas du
phénomène en question n'ont qu'une circonstance commune, celte
circonstance en est la cause ou l'effet» (tome Ier, p. 396).
[23] Prenons un oiseau qui est dans l'air et respire; plongeons-le dans
l'acide carbonique, il cesse de respirer. La suffocation se rencontre
dans le second cas, elle ne se rencontre pas dans le premier; du reste
les deux cas sont aussi semblables que possible, puisqu'il s'agit dans
tous les deux du même oiseau et presque au même instant; ils ne
diffèrent que par une circonstance, l'immersion dans l'acide carbonique
substituée à l'immersion dans l'air. On en conclut que cette
circonstance est un des antécédents invariables de la suffocation. Voilà
un exemple de la méthode de différence; sa règle fondamentale est que
«si un cas où le phénomène en question se rencontre et un cas où il ne
se rencontre pas ont toutes leurs circonstances communes, sauf une, le
phénomène a cette circonstance pour cause ou pour effet.»
[24] Prenons deux groupes, l'un d'antécédents, l'autre de conséquents.
On a lié tous les antécédents, moins un, à leurs conséquents, et tous
les conséquents, moins un, à leurs antécédents. Ou peut conclure que
l'antécédent qui reste est lié au conséquent qui reste. Par exemple, les
physiciens, ayant calculé, d'après les lois de la propagation des ondes
sonores, quelle doit être la vitesse du son, trouvèrent qu'en fait les
sons vont plus vite que le calcul ne semble l'indiquer. Ce surplus ou
résidu de vitesse est un conséquent et suppose un antécédent; Laplace
trouva l'antécédent dans la chaleur que développe la condensation de
chaque onde sonore, et cet élément nouveau introduit dans le calcul le
rendit parfaitement exact. Voilà un exemple de la méthode des résidus.
Sa règle est que «si l'on retranche d'un phénomène la partie qui est
l'effet de certains antécédents, le résidu du phénomène est l'effet des
antécédents qui restent.»
[25] Prenons deux faits: la présence de la terre et l'oscillation du
pendule, ou bien encore la présence de la lune et le mouvement des
marées. Pour joindre directement ces deux phénomènes l'un à l'autre, il
faudrait pouvoir supprimer le premier, et vérifier si cette suppression
entraînerait l'absence du second. Or cette suppression est, dans l'un et
l'autre de ces cas, matériellement impossible. Alors nous employons une
voie indirecte pour joindre les deux phénomènes. Nous remarquons que
toutes les variations de l'un correspondent à certaines variations de
l'autre; que toutes les oscillations du pendule correspondent aux
diverses positions de la terre; que toutes les circonstances des marées
correspondent aux positions de la lune. Nous en concluons que le second
fait est l'antécédent du premier. Voilà un exemple de la méthode des
variations concomitantes: sa règle fondamentale est que «si un phénomène
varie d'une façon quelconque toutes les fois qu'un autre phénomène varie
d'une certaine façon, le premier est une cause ou un effet direct ou
indirect du second.»
[26] «La méthode de différence, dit Mill, a pour fondement, que tout ce
qui ne saurait être éliminé est lié au phénomène par une loi. La méthode
de concordance a pour fondement, que tout ce qui peut être éliminé n'est
point lié au phénomène par une loi.» La méthode des résidus est un cas
de la méthode de différence; la méthode des variations concomitantes en
est un autre cas, avec cette distinction qu'elle opère, non sur les deux
phénomènes, mais sur leurs variations.
[27] "We must separate dew from rain, and the moisture of fogs, and
limite the application of the term to what is really meant, which is,
the spontaneous appearance of moisture on substances exposed in the open
air when no rain or _visible_ wet is falling."
[28] "Now, here we have analogous phenomena in the moisture which bedews
a cold metal or stone when we breathe upon it; that which appears on a
glass of water fresh from the well in hot weather; that which appears on
the inside of windows when sudden rain or hail chills the external air;
that which runs down our walls when, after a long frost, a warm moist
thaw comes on." Comparing these cases, we find that they all contain the
phenomenon which was proposed as the subject of investigation. Now "all
these instances agree in one point, the coldness of the object dewed, in
comparison with the air in contact with it." But there still remains the
most important case of ail, that of nocturnal dew: does the same
circumstance exist in this case?" Is it a fact that the object dewed
_is_ colder than the air? Certainly not, one would at first be inclined
to say; for what is to make it so? But ... the experiment is easy; we
have only to lay a thermometer in contact with the dewed substance, and
hang one at a little distance above it, out of reach of its influence.
The experiment has been therefore made; the question has been asked, and
the answer has been invariably in the affirmative. Whenever an object
contracts dew, it _is_ colder than the air."
[29] Here then is a complete application of the Method of Agreement,
establishing the fact of an invariable connexion between the deposition
of dew on a surface, and the coldness of that surface compared with the
external air. But which of these is cause, and which effect? or are they
both effects of something else? On this subject the Method of Agreement
can afford us no light: we must call in a more potent method. We must
collect more facts, or, which comes to the same thing, vary the
circumstances; since every instance in which the circumstances differ is
a fresh fact: and especially, we must note the contrary or negatives
cases, i.e., where no dew is produced: for a comparison between
instances of dew and instances of no dew is the condition necessary to
bring the Method of Difference into play.
[30] "Now, first, no dew is produced on the surface of polished metals,
but it _is_ very copiously on glass, both exposed with their faces
upwards, and in some cases the under side of a horizontal plate of glass
is also dewed." Here is an instance in which the effect is produced, and
another instance in which it is not produced; but we cannot yet
pronounce, as the canon of the Method of Difference requires, that the
latter instance agrees with the former in all its circumstances except
in one; for the differences between glass and polished metals are
manifold, and the only thing we can as yet be sure of, is, that the
cause of dew will be found among the circumstances by which the former
substance is distinguished from the latter.
[31] "In the cases of polished metal and polished glass, the contrast
shows evidently that the _substance_ has much to do with the phenomenon;
therefore let the substance _alone_ be diversified as much as possible,
by exposing polished surfaces of various kinds. This done, a _scale of
intensity_ becomes obvious. Those polished substances are found to be
most strongly dewed which conduct heat worst, while those which conduct
well, resist dew most effectually."
[32] The conclusion obtained is, that, _caeteris paribus_, the
deposition of dew is in some proportion to the power winch the body
possesses of resisting the passage of heat; and that this, therefore (or
something connected with this), must be at least one of the causes which
assist in producing the deposition of dew on the surface.
"But if we expose rough surfaces instead of polished, we sometimes find
this law interfered with. Thus, roughened iron, especially if painted
over or blackened, becomes dewed sooner than varnished paper: the kind
of _surface,_ therefore, has a great influence. Expose, then, the _same_
material in very diversified states as to surface" (that is, employ the
Method of Difference to ascertain concomitance of variations), "and
another scale of intensity becomes at once apparent; those _surfaces_
which _part with their heat_ most readily by radiation, are found to
contract dew most copiously."
[33] The conclusion obtained by this new application of the method is,
that, _caeteris paribus_, the deposition of dew is also in some
proportion to the power of radiating heat; and that the quality of doing
this abundantly (or some cause on which that quality dépends) is another
of the causes which promote the deposition of dew on the substance.
"Again, the influence ascertained to exist of _substance_ and _surface_
leads us to consider that of _texture_: and hère, again, we are
presented on trial with remarkable differences, and with a third scale
of intensity, pointing out substances of a close firm texture, such as
stones, metals, etc., as unfavourable, but those of a loose one, as
cloth, velvet, wool, eiderdown, cotton, etc., as eminently favourable to
the contraction of dew. The Method of concomitant Variations is here,
for the third time, had recourse to; and, as before, from necessity,
since the texture of no substance is absolutely firm or absolutely
loose. Looseness of texture, therefore, or something which is the cause
of that quality, is another circumstance which promotes the deposition
of dew; but this third cause resolves itself into the first, viz. the
quality of resisting the passage of heat: for substances of loose
texture are precisely those which are best adapted for clothing or for
impeding the free passage of heat from the skin into the air, so as to
allow their outer surfaces to be very cold, while they remain warm
within."
[34] It thus appears that the instances in which much dew is deposited,
which are very various, agree in this, and, so far as we are able to
observe, in this only, that they either radiate heat rapidly or conduct
it slowly: qualities between which there is no other circumstance of
agreement, than that by virtue of either, the body tends to lose heat
from the surface more rapidly than it can be restored from within. The
instances, on the contrary, in which no dew, or but a small quantity of
it, is formed, and which are also extremely various, agree (so far as we
can observe) in nothing, except in _not_ having this same property.
This doubt we are not able to resolve. We have found that, in every such
instance, the substance must be one which, by its own properties or
laws, would, if exposed in the night, become colder than the surrounding
air. The coldness therefore, being accounted for independently of the
dew, while it is proved that there is a connexion between the two, it
must be the dew which depends on the coldness; or in other words, the
coldness is the cause of the dew.
[35] The law of causation, already so amply established, admits,
howewer, of efficient additional corroboration in no less than three
ways. First, by deduction from the known laws of aqueous vapour when
diffused through air or any other gas; and though we have not yet come
to the Deductive Method, we will not omit what is necessary to render
the speculation complete. It is known by direct experiment that only a
limited quantity of water can remain suspended in the state of vapour at
each degree of temperature, and that this maximum grows less and less as
the temperature diminishes. From this it follows, deductively, that if
there is already as much vapour suspended as the air will contain at its
existing temperature, any lowering of that temperature will cause a
portion of the vapour to be condensed, and become water. But, again, we
know deductively, from the laws of heat, that the contact of the air
with a body colder than itself, will necessary lower the temperature of
the stratum of air immediately applied to its surface; and will
therefore cause it to part with a portion of its water, which
accordingly will, by the ordinary laws of gravitation or cohesion,
attach itself to the surface of the body, thereby constituting dew. This
deductive proof, it will have been seen, has the advantage of proving at
once causation as well as coexistence; and it has the additional
advantage that it also accounts for the _exceptions_ to the occurrence
of the phenomenon, the cases in which, although the body is colder than
the air, yet no dew is deposited; by shewing that this will necessarily
be the case when the air is so under-supplied with aqueous vapour,
comparatively to its temperature, that even when somewhat cooled by the
contact of the colder body, it can still continue to hold in suspension
all the vapour which was previously suspended in it: thus in a very dry
summer there are no dews, in a very dry winter no hoar frost.
[36] The second corroboration of the theory is by direct experiment,
according to the canon of the Method of Difference. We can, by cooling
the surface of any body, find in all cases some temperature (more or
less inferior to that of the surrounding air, according to its
hygrometric condition), at which dew will begin to be deposited. Here,
too, therefore the causation is directly proved. We can, it is true,
accomplish this only on a small scale; but we have ample reason to
conclude that the same operation, if conducted in Nature's great
laboratory, would equally produce the effect.
And, finally, even on that great scale we are able to verify the result.
The case is one of those rare cases, as we have shown them to be, in
which nature works the experiment for us in the same manner in which we
ourselves perform it; introducing into the previous state of things a
single and perfectly definite new circumstance, and manifesting the
effect so rapidly, that there is not time for any other material change
in the pre-existing circumstances. It is observed that dew is never
copiously deposited in situations much screened from the open sky, and
not at all in a cloudy night, but _if the clouds withdraw even for a few
minutes, and leave a clear opening, a deposition of dew presently
begins_, and goes on increasing.... Dew formed in clear intervals will
often even evaporate again, when the sky becomes thickly overcast. The
proof, therefore, is complete that the presence or absence of an
uninterrupted communication with the sky causes the deposition or
non-deposition of dew. Now, since a clear sky is nothing but the absence
of clouds, and it is a known property of clouds, as of all other bodies
between which and any given object nothing intervenes but an elastic
fluid, that they tend to raise or keep up the superficial temperature of
the object by radiating heat to it, we see at once that the
disappearance of clouds will cause the surface to cool; so that Nature,
in this case, produces a change in the antecedent by definite and known
means, and the consequent follows accordingly: a natural experiment
which satisfies the requisitions of the Method of Difference.
[37] Tome I, page 500.
[38] Tome II, liv. vi, ch. 9. Tome I, p. 487. Explication, d'après
Liebig, de la décomposition, de la respiration, de l'empoisonnement,
etc. Il y a un livre entier sur la méthode des sciences morales; je ne
connais pas de meilleur traité sur ce sujet.
[39] Tome II, page 4.
[40] There exist in nature a number of permanent causes, which have
subsisted ever since the human race has been in existence, and for an
indefinite and probably an enormous length of time previous. The sun,
the earth, and planets, with their varions constituents, air, water, and
the other distinguishable substances, whether simple or compound, of
which nature is made up, are such Permanent Causes. They have existed,
and the effects or consequences which they were fitted to produce have
taken place (as often as the other conditions of the production met),
from the very beginning of our experience. But we can give no account of
the origine of the Permanent Causes themselves.
[41] The resolution of the laws of the heavenly motions, established the
previously unknown ultimate property of a mutual attraction between the
bodies: the resolution, so far as it has yet proceeded, of the laws of
crystallization, or chemical composition, electricity, magnetism, etc.,
points to various polarities, ultimately inherent in the particles of
which bodies are composed; the comparative atomic weights of different
kinds of bodies were ascertained by resolving, into more generai laws,
the uniformities observed in the proportions in which substances combine
with one another; and so forth. Thus although every resolution of a
complex uniformity into simpler and more elementary laws has an apparent
tendency to diminish the number of the ultimate properties, and really
does remove many properties from the list; yet (since the result of this
simplifying process is to trace up an ever greater variety of differents
effects to the same agents), the further we advance in this direction,
the greater number of distinct properties we are forced to recognise in
one and the same object: the coexistences of which properties must
accordingly be ranked among the ultimate generalities of nature.
[42] Why these particular natural agents existed originally and no
others, or why they are commingled in such and such proportions, and
distributed in such a manner throughout space, is a question we cannot
answer. More than this: we can discover nothing regular in the
distribution itself; we can reduce it to no uniformity, to no law. There
are no means by which, from the distribution of these causes or agents
in one part of space, we could conjecture whether a similar distribution
prevails in another.
[43] I am convinced that any one accustomed to abstraction and analysis,
who will fairly exert his faculties for the purpose, will, when his
imagination has once learnt to entertain the notion, find no difficulty
in conceiving that in some one for instance of the many firmaments into
which sidereal astronomy now divides the universe, events may succeed
one another at random, without any fixed law; nor can anything in our
experience, or in our mental nature, constitute a sufficient, or indeed
any reason for believing that this is nowhere the case. The grounds,
therefore, which warrant us in rejecting such a supposition with respect
to any of the phenomena of which we have experience, must be sought
elsewhere than in any supposed necessity of our intellectual faculties.
[44] In distant parts of the stellar regions, where the phenomena may be
entirely unlike those with which we are acquainted, it would be folly to
affirm confidently that this general law prevails, any more than those
special ones which we have found to hold universally on our own planet.
The uniformity in the succession of events, otherwise called the law of
causation, must be received not as a law of the universe, but of that
portion of it only which is within the range of our means of sure
observation, with a reasonable degree of extension to adjacent cases. To
extend it further is to make a supposition without evidence, and to
which, in the absence of any ground from experience for estimating its
degree of probability, it would be idle to attempt to assign any.
[45] Voyez les seconds analytiques, si supérieurs aux premiers: [Greek:
hoi aitioon kai protiroon]
[46] «Un fait, me disait un physicien éminent, est une superposition de
lois.»
[47] Die aufgehobene quantität.
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TABLE DES MATIÈRES