LXXXVI. So that we see, our philosophy, from what we call first
principles, down to our ultimate conclusions, is nothing but a
fabrication, or weaving together of fallible conjectures; and that
even these conjectures, terminate in nothing more than certain general
notions; for the nature of all the specific things, and the greatest part
of the causes respecting the lowest species, are so far removed from our
penetration, that we can hardly arrive at attaining a doubtful idea of
them. If we hit upon a truth, we owe the knowledge of it to experience,
and this cannot be called scientific knowledge; for it is derived from
self-evident principles, which may be comprehended by the most stupid of
mankind; between whose manner of explaining the matter, if they attempt
doing it, and ours, there is only this difference, that we define it in
terms of art, and they in ordinary and common ones, which are better than
the others, because they are more intelligible. This made the learned
Jesuit Claudius Franciscus Dechales say, that our physics consisted of
nothing but a particular idiom, which conveyed no certain knowledge of
any thing. (Tom. I. tract. de Progressu Matheseos).
LXXXVII. It is much to be lamented, that those who are called professors
in the schools, do not know more of the nature of things than the
vulgar. But what would you think, if I was to say now, they know even
less? It would seem, as if I was advancing an extravagant paradox; but
notwithstanding this, I assert that the proposition is a most true one,
and may be easily proved; for as experience is the only channel, through
which a knowledge of nature can be conveyed; they must have the best
experimental knowledge of natural things, who in various mechanical
occupations, work up various natural entities; and not those who amuse
themselves with speculations, and live retired in schools. A fisherman,
knows something of the properties of fish; a pilot, of the winds and
the tides; a sportsman, of birds and wild animals; and a husbandman, of
the generation and increase of plants. But what does the philosopher
know? why, he knows how to raise doubts about every thing, and that is
all. Thus the school of physics is a theatre, where people are taught to
doubt without end. I say without end, because it is scarce possible the
period should ever arrive, when they will be able to pass from doubt to
certainty. This may be clearly inferred, by their disputing at this day
with the same obstinacy, the same questions they disputed two hundred
years ago. If any elucidation, or certain knowledge, has been acquired
with respect to here and there a physical theorem, we are not indebted
for it to the schools, but owe it to the benefit of experience, which
comes from the world at large. We may thank the experiments of Torriceli,
Monsieur Pascal, Otho Guerricus, and Boyle, for our knowledge that the
air is ponderous. If we are certain, that the blood circulates from the
heart through the arteries, and is returned by the veins, we owe the
discovery to the anatomical observations of Peter Paul Sarpi and William
Harvey. If we are clear, that the chyle is not conveyed to the liver, but
to the heart; what ascertained this truth, but the diligent and practical
scrutinies of John Paqueto, Thomas Bartolino, and the Englishman Lowther?
Experience has been the only arbitrator, which has settled some disputes,
and banished certain errors from the schools; and wherever matters have
been left to speculation and reasoning, the suit still remains depending
and undetermined. One age and another passes away, and the world during
the whole time, has been accustomed to hear the same vociferations, the
same arguments, and the same distinctions; and has seen the obstinacy
of the contending parties, transferred, as if it were by hereditary
succession, from professor to professor, without the least prospect,
either of victory or reconciliation.