· prefac e the aim o f this volume is to trace the chief stages in the development o f e n glish...

The Channel: of Englislz LiteratureEdited by OLI PHANT SMEATON, M .A.

ENGLISH EPIC AND HEROIC POETRY.

By Pro fessorW. MACNE ILL D IXON , M .A. .

Univers ity of Glasgow.

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ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS AND SCHOOLSOF PHILOSOPHY.

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By Pro fessor HUGHWALKER , LL.D . , S t.

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By Pro fessor J. W. H . ATKINS , UniversityC o llege o fWales .

J. M. DENT 67° SONS , LTD.

ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

AND

SCHOOLS OF PHILO SOPHY

jAMES SETH ,M .A.

PROFESSOR OF MORAL PH ILOSOPHY IN THE

UNIVERS ITY OF EDINBURGH

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THIS STUDY IS GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED

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PREFACE

THE aim o f this volume is to trace the chief stagesin the development o f English philosophy, through a studyo f its leading represen tatives in their relation to one anotherand to the general movement o f English philosophicalthought. Such an exhaustive account o f the subj ect as willbe found

,so far as the seventeenth cen tury is concerned,

in Charles de Rémusat’

s Histoire de la Pbilosophie en Angle

terre depuis Bacon jusqu’a‘

Locke,or in Professor So rley

’s

admirable chapters in The Cambridge History of EnglishLiterature

,lies entirely beyond the scope o f the present

work. The same may be said o f such a treatment as

Green’s in h is well-known Introduction to Hume’sTreatise

,or Professor Forsyth ’s in his recent careful and

suggestive study o f the ‘ method and general development ’

o f English Philosophy.

l My effort has been toconcentrate attention on the epoch-making philosophersrather than on the less importan t figures in the movement

,

and on the actual thought o f the indiv idual phi losophersrather than on the logical sequence o f English philosophy as a chapter in the development o f ideas. Moreo ver, in accordance with the plan o f the Series, as well asin accordance with the facts o f the case

,English philo

Sophy has been regarded as a form o f Engl ish literature .A t the same time the term ‘ philosophy ’

has been in

Englislz P/u'

losoplzy a S tudy of its Alet/zoa’and General Develop

m en t , by Thomas M . ForsythV I ]

238240

viii PREFACE

terpreted i n a strict sense, which excludes such writers asCarlyle or Matthew Arnold from the study here undertaken .

I have to make gratefiil acknowledgment o f the helpwhich has been ungrudgingly rendered by my friend andcolleague

,Mr. Henry Barker, Lecturer in Moral Phi lo

So phy in this University, who has carefully read the

entire work both in manuscript and in proof,and whose

advice has been o f great value at many points. I havealso to thank Mr. John Handyside, Lecturer in PhiloSo phy in the University o f Liverpool

,Mr. John Laird,

Assistant in Moral Philosophy in the University o f St.Andrews

,and Mr. John Baill ie, Assistant in Logic

and Metaphysics in th is University,fo r their kindness

in revising the proofs, and fo r a number o f importantsuggestions.

JAMES SETH .

February , 1 9 1 2.

CONTENT S

INTRODUCTIONPAGE

ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY As LITERATURE . ITS GENERAL CHARACTERI ST ICs : I . EXPERIENTIAL ;2 . EPI STOMOLOGICAL ; 3. PRACTICAL. ITs

BEGINNINGS IN THE THIRTEENTH ANDFOURTEENTH CENTURIES ROGER BACONWILLIAM OF OCKHAM

PART I

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURYCHAP.

I . BACON : PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENTIFIC METHOD

II . HOBBES : MATERIALISM AND POLITICAL PH ILOSOPHY

III . THE IDEALISTIC REACTION : CAMBRIDGEPLATONISM AND RATIONALISM

IV . LOCKE : THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGEix

x CONTENTS

PART II

THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURYCHAP.

I . BERKELEY : THE NEW IDEALISM

II . HUME : EMPIRICISM AND SCEPTICISM

THE MORALISTS I . THE MORAL SENSESCHOOL— SHAFTESBURY

,HUTCHESON

,AND

BUTLER ; 2 . ASSOCIATION AND SYMPATHYAs EXPLANATIONS OF THE MORAL SENSEHARTLEY AND ADAM SMITH ; 3. THE

EARLY UTILITARIANS - TUCKER AND PALEY

IV THE REVIVAL OF RATIONALISM : PRICE ANDREID

PART III

THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

I . THE ENGLISH DEVELOPMENT OF HUME ’

S

EMPIRICISM : I . UTILITARIANISM ANDASSOCIATION ISM—BENTHAM

, JAMES MILL,JOHN STUART MILL

, BAIN ; 2 . EVOLU

T IONISM—HERBERT SPENCER

PAGE

CONTENTS x1

CRA P PAGE

THE DEVELOPMENT AND CONSEQ UENCES OFTHE SCOTT ISH PHILOSOPHY OF COMMONSENSE : I . NATURAL REALISM AND THEPHILOSOPHY OF THE CONDITIONED—HAMILTON AND MANSEL ; 2 . AGNOSTICISMSPENCER AND HUXLEY ; 3. RETURN To

THE CHARACTERISTIC POINT OF V IEW OFSCOTTISH PHILOSOPHY—CALDERWOOD

,MAR

TINEAU, FRASER

THE IDEALISTIC ANSWER To HUMESPIRITUAL PHILOSOPHY COLERIDGE ANDNEWMAN ; 2 . ABSOLUTE IDEALISM—EARLIERVERSION : FBREIER AND GROTE ; 3. AB

SOLUTE IDEALISM—LATER VERSION : STIR

LING, CAIRD, GREEN, BRADLEY

CONCLUS ION

PRESENT TENDENCIES IN ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY 358

INDEx

ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS AND

SCHOOLS OF PHILOSOPHY

INTRODUCTION

ENGLISH philosophy is enti tled to be called l iterature ina sense in which the philosophy o f perhaps no other nationhas the same right to the name. Whether we thinko f Bacon and Hobbes in the seventeenth century, o f

Berkeley and Hume in the eighteenth,or o f Coleridge

and Ferrier in the nineteenth,we cannot but recognise

qualities o f style which entitle the writer to rank amongthe masters o f Engl ish prose o f the expository and controversial type with the best essayists o f our country.

Even if we take a philosopher o f lower l iterary m erit,

l ike Locke or Reid, we find that in comparison with thephilosophers o f the Continent

,and especially o f Germany

,

the style is characterised by the absence o f severi ty andtechn icali ty ; and while this may lead to a certain loss o fprecision which causes d iffi culty in the in terpretation o f

the philosophy,the fact that the works are written in

the vernacular adds to their l iterary value. The un

techn ical,as Well as the literary

,quality o f the style o f

English philosophy is doubtless in some measure due tothe fact that its chief representatives were no t

,like the

great German idealists, universi ty professors, but meno f affairs

,in close contact with the life o f the nation .

This is true, more o r less,o f Bacon

,Locke

,Berkeley

,

Hume, and the Utilitarians ; and even Hobbes tells us

A

2 ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

that his chief works were the fruit o f the stirringevents o f his time. We cannot but note a certain deterio ratio n o f style as the consequence o f the increasinglyacademic character o f our national ph ilosophy. Inthe seventeenth century the Cambridge Platonists area group o f academic thinkers

,whose style is marred

by technicalities and spoiled by over-quotation ; whileHutcheson and Adam Smith

,Reid

,Hamilton

,and other

leaders o f the Scottish school,as well as the repre

sentatives o f Absolute Idealism in the nineteenth century,

are academic teachers . With the exception o f AdamSmith

,Reid

,and Ferrier

,these later writers are either

without literary gifts,o r tend to a style to o technical and

academic.

A distinguished authority o n the subj ect has remarked onthe unity o f type which is characteristic o f English philoSo phy from first to last. Speaking o f the five dominatingnames—Bacon

,Hobbes, Locke, Berkeley, and Hume

Croom Robertson says that Whatever their d ifference o findiv idual character and aims,

’ these philosophers display agreater general similarit o f intellectual v ision than can

be matched,fo r such a succession o f first-rate minds, from

the history o f any other modern people.’ In the varioussystems o f German thought, o n the contrary, in spite o f

their apparent uniformity,

‘ upon a closer v iew the distance is seen to be enormous from the dogmatism o f

Leibn itz to the critical spirit o f Kan t,or again from

Kant’s sober reserve to the stupendous confidence o f

Hegel ; while after the lapse o f 1 50 years from thetime o f Leibnitz

,a general Change o f face may be said to

have been made at last.’ 1 While this contrast is, on thewhole

,a real one

,yet it must not be over-estimated . A

closer inspection discovers not only fundamental difl'

erences

between the philosophical ideas o f Bacon and those o f

Hobbes,but between Bacon and his later successors

,Locke

,

Berkeley,and Hume ; while in the philosophy o f each o f

1 Pfiilosopltical Remains , p. 40 .

INTRODUCTION 3

these writers there is a diversity o f philosophical tendency,and if we take account o f writers who

,though o f in

ferio rmerit,are yet o f much significance—the Cambridge

Platonists, the ‘ moral sense ’ school o f moral ists, the

Scottish intuitionists, and the advocates o fabsolute ideal ism—we discover a contrariety o f doctrine which suggests av igour and independence in the English philosophicalm ind which is hardly less remarkable than the characteristic stream o f tendency which is generally identifiedw i th it.Yet there is such a characteristic stream o f tendency .

T hree main features can hardly fail to arrest the atten tiono f the student o f English phi losophy, features whichdifl

'

erentiate i t from the philosophy o f the Continent.T hese are ( I ) i ts experiential and inductive method, asdist inguished from the rational istic and deductive methodo fContinental philosophy ; (2 ) the epistemological charactero f the former

, in contrast with the ontological CharacterO f the latter and (3) the practical or ethical interest whichdominates the English

,as contrasted with the metaphysi

cal and speculative interest which dominates the Continen tal philosophy.( I ) Bacon shares with Descartes the honour o f inau

gurating the modern period o f philosophy . Bacon ’sp rotest against the principle o f authority

,a princ iple

which had been accepted with more o r less unhesitatingloyalty by the Scholastic philosophers

,is no less vigorous

than that o f Descartes. Both al ike are eager to substitutefo r faith and tradition the independent effort o f the indiv idual mind in the pursuit o f truth . Bacon extends hisp rotest to antiquity i tself (for is no t antiquity the youth o fthe world and to the chief phi losopher o f Greek antiquity who was also ‘ the philosopher ’

o f the MiddleAges. He repudiates the method o f the Aristotel ianlogic which had ruled the Scholastic philosophy in its

per iod o f maturity—the syllogistic or deductive method—and would substitute fo r it the inductive method o f

mo dern science. Descartes insists upon Clear anddistinct ideas ’

as the method o f phi losophical thought ;


fo r Bacon the on ly fruitful metho d is a first-hand studyor observation o f the facts o f experience. Desca rtes isthe founder o f the great speculative movement whichproceeds through Spinoz a to Leibnitz and Kant andHegel ; Bacon is the founder o f the English experientialand inductive movement represented by Locke

,Berkeley

and Hume,Hartley, the Mills, and Spencer. The

characteristic works o f the Cartesian movement are theEtfzica more geometrico demoustrata o f Spinoz a and the Logico f Hegel ; those o f the Baconian are the Essay o f Locke

,

which follows the ‘ historical,plain method

,

’ and theTreatise o f Hume, ‘ an attempt to introduce the experi

mental method o f reasoning into moral subjects. ’

T he

ambition o f the former movement is the attainment o fsystematic completeness, the vision o f all things in theirultimate and perfect un ity, or in God ; such a philosophyrightly describes the subj ect-matter o f its investigation

,

as well as the point o f View from which it seeks to solveall its problems, in the words, De Deo. The ideal o f thelatter is to keep close to real i ty, to verify all its conclusionsby reference to the facts o f experience ; i t is alwayswill ing to sacrifice system and symmetry fo r faithfulnessto the data o f Cxperience, speculative completeness fo rscientific correctness and empirical truth. The one efl

'

o rt

i s inspired by a passion fo r system,the other by a passion

fo r actuality ; the temper o f the one is ideal istic, that o fthe other realistic .Though English philosophy begins

,in Bacon

,with an

ambitious attempt to construct,at least in outl ine

,the

encyclopae dia o f the sciences,the basis o f the entire

Structure being ‘ natural history,’

o r a collection o f al lthe facts

,i t was not long before it narrowed its scope to

the more specific problems o f philosophy,and the experi

en tial became the psychological or in trospective method,

the method o f inner observation,which fixes attention

upon the inner Side o f experience, or upon experience assuch . This is the method common to Locke

,Berkeley

,

and Hume,to the associationists and the Scottish intu i

tio nists.

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ledge,and are preoccupied with metaphysical con struc

tion rather than with the problem o f knowledge o r

method "Locke . is the first English philosopher to substitutethe problem o f knowledge fo r that o f reality, holding,l ike Kant in his proposed ‘ cri ticism ’

o f human knowledge

,that this is the previous question which must be

answered before the metaphysical question o f the natureo f reali ty can be attempted with any hope o f success .In his own memorable words

,

‘ It is ambition enoughto be employed as an under- labourer in clearing theground a little

,and removing some o f the rubbish that

l ies in the way to knowledge.’ 2 H is main difficultyis to show how knowledge can be at once general andreal ; and his conclusion is that it is either general andunreal

,or real but merely particular. Our deficiency o f

certain knowledge is suppl ied,he holds

,by that Opinion

,

’

‘ faith,

’ or ‘ assent ’ which is based upon probability,a

conclusion which may be compared with that o f the laterKantian criticism . While Locke had protested against‘ innate ideas

,

’ Berkeley’s protest was directed against‘ abstract ideas ’

; and his nominalistic interpretation o f

the significance o f general terms,as reducibile to the

particular ideas which they represent,is closely connected

with his reduction o f the cm o f the material world to i tspercipi. His theory o f knowledge yields immediatelya corresponding theory o f reali ty . All that was left fo rHume to do , to reach his sceptical d issolution o f knowledge

,was to extend the Berkeleyan nominalism from

matter to mind,and to identify the connexions between

impressions and ideas with the customary associationwhich Berkeley had already recognised under the nameo f ‘ Suggestion.’ Thus the result o f the sustained effort

1 Hobbes , like Bacon, lays the basis o f his system in a theory o f

knowledge ; but his interest is rather in the materialistic system whichhe pro ceeds to construct o n this basis than in the security o f the basisitself. The Cambridge Plato nists and o ther rationalistic critics o fHo bb es in the seventeenth cen tury similarly pro po se a theory o f knowledge which carries With it a co rrespo nding theo ry o f reality.

Essay concern ing Human Understanding, Epistle to the Reader.

INTRODUCTION 7

o f Engl ish phi losophy during its best period to solve theproblem o f knowledge is the sceptical dissolution o f knowledge in to opin ion

,o f certainty into probability

,o f rational

connexion into customary association . And while therefutation o f this scepticism is attempted independentlyby the Scottish intui tion ists and, under the inspiration o fKant and his successors

,by the idealists o f the nineteenth

c entury,the doctrine o f associationism is developed by

Hartley and the Mills, and Spencer invokes the aid o f

the new principles o f evolution and heredity to reinforcethe same view.

It may be said,therefore

,without qualification that

,

since Locke’s epoch-making substitut ion o f the episte

mo logical for the ontological problem, the basis o f

Engl ish metaphysical theory has always been sought in atheory o f knowledge. To take two notable examplesfrom opposite schools o f thought, section i . o f Fet rier’sInstitutes of M etaphysic is devoted to

‘ the epistemology,

o r theory o f knowing,

’ section i i . to ‘ the agnoiology, ortheory o f ignorance

,

’ section i i i. to ‘ the ontology, o r

theory Of being ’

; part i . Of Spencer’s First Principles to

‘ the unknowable,

’ part i i . to‘ the knowable . ’ Before

proceeding to the exposition o f his system, the formerwriter thinks it necessary to prove that i t is possible toknow real ity and to distinguish knowledge from ignor

ance the latter to prove that we cannot know reali ty orthe absolute

,but only the relative and phenomenal.

Gnosticism and agnosticism alike rest upon a theory o f

knowledge. Although,in the light o f the Kantian

‘ criticism,

’ this View o f the relation o f the ontologicalto the epistemological problem came home to these laterthinkers with a new clearness and conviction

,i t was a

lesson which they might have learned from the indepen

dent movement o fEnglish philosophy.(3) It is important to observe the precise sense inwhich English philosophy may be said to be dominatedby the practical or ethical interest, as contrasted withthe Speculative or m etaphysical interest which is theinsp i ration o f Continental philosophy. It cannot be


rightly said that the English estimate o f knowledge isutilitarian

,although Bacon ’s insistence upon the util ity

o f knowledge in his famous dicta that knowledge ispower ’ and that its end is ‘ the improvement o f man ’sestate, certainly suggest such an estimate. It is ratherthat the intellectual interest

, as such, is subordinated tothe moral

,the theoretical to the practical ; that the

supreme interest is the conduct o f l ife rather than whatLocke calls the conduct o f the understanding.

’

Perhapsthe actual state o f the case may be best brought out bycomparing the English with the Greek estimate o f thecomparative values o f theory and practice

,o f the life o f

thought and that o f action. The Greeks always saw inphilosophy the true way o f l ife

,

’ and the Socratic iden tificatio n o f virtue with knowledge was only the explicitstatement o f the conviction

,which inspired all their philo

sophical activity,that without theoretic understanding

the practice o f virtue must be bl ind and uncertain . Butthe Greek adm i ration o f theory went further than thisinterpretation o f virtue as the expression o f knowledge.For Plato the life o f ideal v irtue is that o f philosophic

,

as contrasted with civ ic excellence, and fo r Aristotle theentire life o f practical activ ity and moral excellence isinstrumental to the higher l ife o f theoretic activity andintellectual excellence. The English mind is practicalin the sense that fo r i t the supremely important thingis action and not only does it place action above thought

,

but it is apt to depreciate the practical importance o f

knowledge, and to conclude that the limitations o f humanknowledge poin t to practice rather than speculation as

the real destiny o f man, and that fo r the practical conducto f life

,faith is a better guide than rational insight

,and

probability serves where certainty is not to be reached .

The atti tude thus described is n o t,o f course

,peculiar to

English philosophy. It is the Characteristic attitude o f

Kant,who in this as in other respects may be said to

combine the qualities o f English with those o f Continental philosophy. AS he refuses to leave the solid groundo f experience

,and repudiates the ‘ rational dogmatism ’

INTRODUCTION 9

o f his predecessors ; as he substitutes epistemology orthe ‘ crit ic ism ’

o f knowledge fo r the o ld ontology and

metaphysics,so he finds the ultimate clue to the nature

Of reality in the practical rather than in the Speculativereason

,in the ethical rather than in the intellectual inte

rest . Even fo r Spinoz a,with all his intellectualism,

themoral and practical interest may be said to be supreme,since the great service which the intellectual v ision o f

all things in the l ight o f their divine unity and necess i tyrenders to man is to free him from ‘ the bondage o f thepassions ’

; fo r Spinoz a, as fo r Socrates, virtue is knowledge

,and the supreme value o f knowledge

,in his eyes

,

is that it makes virtue possible . The peculiarity o f theEnglish v iew is that

,depreciating the moral value o f

knowledge,at least o f the Speculative type

,and insisting

upon the necessity o f supplementing the defects o f knowledge by a faith or practical certainty which satisfies theneeds o f the moral life

,i t tends to diminish the ardour o f

the pursuit o f truth,and is even apt to lead to the appeal

to the ordinary practical understanding or the ‘ commonsense o f mankind fo r the solution o f purely Speculativeproblems.It is not surprising that the English contribution toeth ical and political philosophy Should be considerableboth in amount and in importance . The course o f

pol itical and constitutional history stimulated reflectionupon the nature and functions o f the State and thetheoretic basis o f that l iberty o f the subject which asserteditselfmore and more as the ideal o f the national aspiration .

The treatises o f Hobbes and Locke,the one maintaining

the absolute and inal ienable character o f the authorityo f the sovereign

,the other insisting that government is

a trust fo r the faithful discharge o f which the holder mayrightfully be called to account by the people who havecommitted it to him ,

are o f epoch-making importancefo rpolit ical theory . The importance o fHobbes’s Leviathanis n o t less for ethics than fo r politics. Proclaiming as itdoes the radical individualism

,the inherent selfishness o f

human nature, it stimulated a succession o f moral ists to

I O ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

the effort to establish the Opposite view ; the early intuitio n ists and the advocates o f a ‘ moral sen se united ina common protest against what they regarded as the

travesty o f human nature ofl'

ered by Hobbes. The mostnotable result o f this effort is found in Butler’s Sermonson Human Nature

,which is, all in all, probably the most

important contribution o f the English mind to the

theory o f ethics. The union o f the eth ical and the

political interest which is characteristic o f Hobbes,but

which falls into the background in his successors,again

becomes prominent in the util itarians o f the nineteenthcentury.

The real beginning o f English philosophy is to bedated from Bacon ’s break with Scholasticism. TheScholastic philosophy was n o t national ; i t represents thecommon intellectual effort o f Christian Europe . AS

Professor Sorley says,

‘The English language may besaid to have become fo r the first time the vehicle o f

philosophical literature by the publication o f Bacon ’sAdvancement of Learning, in 1 605 National characteristics are never so strongly marked in science andphilosophy as in other branches o f l iterature

,and their

influence takes longer in making itself felt. The Englishbirth or residence o f a mediae val philosopher is o f l i ttlemore than biographical interest : it would be vain totrace its influence o n the ideas or style o f his work.

With the Latin language went community o f audience,

o f culture and o f topics. This traditional commonwealtho f thought was weakened by the forces which issued inthe renascence ; and

,among these forces

,the increased

consciousness o f nationality led, gradually, to greaterdifferentiation in national types o f culture and to theuse o f the national language even fo r subjects whichappealed chiefly

,or only, to the commun ity o f learned

men . However much he may have preferred the Latintongue as the vehicle o f his philosophy

,Bacon’s own

action made him a leader o f this movement ; and it sohappened that the type o f thought which he expounded

INTRODUCTION I I

had affinities with the practical and positive achievementso f the English mind. ’ 1

On the other hand,i t has been suggested by Croom

Robertso n that the beginnings o f English philosophy areto be sought within the Scholastic period . ‘ No nationhas kept more steadily to i ts l ine o f thought but,also

,non e perhaps has thought so persistently. We seem

to have had a l ine before any other modern people .In gauging

,historically

,the philosophical performance o f

the English mind,those who rate it low and those who

rate it high err alike,as it seems to me, in contracting

the vision to o much . Always it is presumed that the firstn ote was Struck by the famous Chancellor less than threecenturies ago that before Bacon there was n o philosophical thought in England

, or none at least that couldbe called English.

’ It is forgotten ‘ how actively theEnglish or Bri tish intellect was at work in an age longbefore Bacon and towards a result which he and hisfollowers are commonly thought to have been the firstto conceive . ’ ‘ Men o f our race played a part o f quitesingular prominence in the general intellectual movemento f Europe. Almost might one say that as long as themovement

,from taking place within the fold o f the

universal Church,was in the strict sense a collectively

European one,the start at every new Stage o f the course

was due to the in it iative o f a British schoolman .

’ 2 Inproof o f his contention

, Robertson cites the names o f

John Scotus Erigena in the ninth century, John o f

Salisbury in the twelfth, Alexander o f Hales and RogerBacon in the th irteenth, and Duns Scotus and Williamo f Ockham in the fourteenth . O f these names, however,the only ones which can be said really to represent thec haracteristic trend o f later English philosophy are thoseo f Roger Bacon and Wi ll iam o f Ockham,

the eXperien

tialism o f the former and the nominalism o f the latterheralding the dawn o fmodern philosophy, and anticipating,

1 The Beginnings o f English Philo so phy,’ Cambridge History ofE ng/risk Literature, vo l. iv. , ch. xiv . p. 268.

Pl u’

losopltitalRemains , p. 28 ff.

I 2 ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

along one o f i ts main lines, the tendency o f later Engl ishthought.

‘ It is more than probable,

’ says the late ProfessorAdamson

,‘ that in all fairness

,when we speak o f the

Baconian reform o f sc ience, we should refer to the fo rgotten monk o f the thirteenth century rather than to

the brill iant and famous Chancellor o f the seventeenth.”‘ He had the same thought

,the same ambition ; he con

ceived the same enterprise with the same courage and lessglory,

’says Remusat .z That enterprise was the reform o f

philosophy by the subst itution o f the appeal to experiencefor the method o f argumentation from premises acceptedo n authority. L ike the later Bacon, he begins his pleafor reform by an enumeration o f the chief causes o f error,or oflindicula. O f such pestiferae causae he distinguishesfour kinds—authority

,custom

,the opin ion o f the unskilled

many,and the concealment o f real ignorance with the

show or pretence o f knowledge. O f these the first andthe last are the obj ects o f his Special denunciation, and hefinds them combined in the attitude o fScholastic philosophyto its sources . Apart even from its roots in authority,however, he condemns the Scholastic method o f argumen

tatio n as a medium o f truth . Experience alone certifiesor verifies the results o f argument . ‘ If we wish to havecomplete and thoroughly verified knowledge

, we mustproceed by the methods o f experimental science . ’ Thislast is ‘ the mistress o f all the sciences and the end o f allSpeculation ’

(domina omnium scientiarum et finis totias

speculationis) . But while he thus regards experience as

the indispensable verification o f truth reached by deductivereaso n ing, Bacon insists upon the value o f the lattermethod in its own place. In particular he emphas ises theimportance o f mathematics

,which he calls ‘

the alphabeto f philosophy.

’ ‘ Physicists ought to know that the i rscience is powerless unless they call in the aid o f mathematics.’ In this recognition o f the necessity o f combining

1 Roger Bacon t/temumps) , of S cience in Me Middle Ages , p. 7.Histoire dc 1a P/tilosopltie en Angleterre, i. 43.

x4 ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

excelled Francis Bacon in his interpretation o f scientificmethod .

O f W i lliam o f Ockham it has been said by a carefulstudent o f h is works that ‘ he was the great Englishschoolman

,and his nationality appears everywhere in

his writings and actions, distinguishing him from the

other leaders o f mediaeval thought. We see inWilliam o f Ockham some o f the best features o f theEngl ish Character.’ 1 Hauréau, the historian o f Scholasticphilosophy

,affirms that ‘ i t is in real ity upon the so i l so

well prepared by the prince o f nominal ists that Franc isBacon built h is eternal monument.’ He carries further,in the fourteenth century, that divergence from the

essential principles o f Scholasticism which Roger Baconhad inaugurated in the thirteenth . He so widens thebreach between faith and knowledge as to constitute anirreconcilable dualism between these two spheres ; and

by his critic ism o f real ism he undermines the Scholasticmethod o f abstract reason ing, and prepares the way fo rthe modern scientific method—the inductive investigationo f the concrete facts o f experience.Going further than any preceding Scholastic philosopherin separating the spheres o f theological and philosophicaltruth

,Ockham maintains that none o f the truths o f

theology can be proved philosophically, that in seekingto prove even the existence o f God we are involved in insoluble contrad iction . It is d ifficult to determine whetherh is z eal in thus separating the things o f faith from the

things o f knowledge was the result o f his concern forreligious or fo r scientific truth The probability is thathe Shared the tendene to religIous mysticism which wascharacteristic o f the ranciscan Order, o f which he wasa z ealous member, and that his depreciation o f theologyas a science is intended as an indirect defence o f practicalreligion. The actual result o f his teaching, however, wasin the main destructive, lending force to the growing

1 T. M. Lindsay, Britt'

s/t Quarterly Review, vo l. lvi. p. 3.

Histoire de la Pk ilosophie Scolastique, ii. 474.

INTRODUCTION 1 5

tendency to adopt the doctrine o f a twofold truthwhich was fatal to the presupposition o f Scholastic phi loSophy—the essential identity o f the content o f faith andthat o f knowledge. No r can i t be doubted that a part atleast o f Ockham ’s own interest in the distinction was thefreedom o f scientific inquiry which i t promised and whichconstituted its positive significance for his successors inEngl ish philosophy. The later Bacon and Hobbes drawthe same sharp and absolute line o f d istinction betweenthe spheres o f faith and knowledge

,the only d ifference

between these philosophers and Will iam o f Ockhambeing that the religious interest in the distinction whichwas apparently primary fo r him is in them entirely subordinated to the scientific interest in intellectual freedom .

Probably it was the union in Ockham o f these twointerests, no less than his struggle against the papalauthority, that appealed so powerfully to Luther, whospoke o fWilliam as

‘mein lieber Meister Ockham .

’

But it is as the renewer o f nominal ism that Ockhamis best known in the history o f philosophy . The do ctrine o f realism, variously modified, had finally establisheditself as the orthodox doctrine o f Scholastic philosophy.

The victory o f nominalism which marked the close o f

the Scholastic age was the result o f the persistence withwhich Ockham urged the claims o f a theory o fknowledgeand real ity which lay nearer to experience than thatwhich underlay the doctrine o f real ism

,and at the same

time recogn ised and reinterpreted the truth which thatdoctrine contained but had never succeeded in expressing.The knowledge o f existence is always

,Ockham contends

,

intuitive,never abstract or conceptual ; the real is always

individual,never un iversal . The realists have abstracted

the universal or common element from the individualthings in which alone it really exists ; they have hypostatised these abstract universals, and attributed to thema h igher degree o f reality than that possessed by theindiv idual things whose properties they are . Ockham ’sfundamen tal principle is that ‘ plurali ty is no t to bepredicated without necessi ty (Non est ponendo pluralitas


sine necessitate), that ‘ entities are no t to be unnecessaril

multipl ied (Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessi

tatem) . To predicate the independen t or substan tiveexistence o f the universal o r conceptual is to postu lateplurali ty without necess ity. The concept is n o t aliquid,but quoddam

‘ fifictum the universal is only a ‘ term ’o r

‘ Sign,

’ not a ‘ thing ’

; its ‘ existence ’ is on ly In the mind .On the other hand

,the new nominalism (or terminism)

differs from the old in recognising the importance o f theconcept

,and is therefore indistinguishable from the

doctrine o f conceptual ism . The name o r term is notwithout meaning or real significance ; i t is a

‘ sign ’

o f

reality,and has its warrant in the nature o f real i ty .

There are real likenesses or agreements between the

individual things ; they are no t mere individuals. As

Hauréau says, ‘ The universal notion has a real basis inthe nature o f things.” The concept signifies severalind ividuals

,whose natural resemblance makes i t

,

though in itself particular, representative o f them all .The discovery o f these real lIkenesseS

,the investigat ion

o f the actual warrant in the nature o f things fo r therepresentative function o f the universal concept

,is the

work o f science in the modern sense . It is in this sensethat Ockham is

,like Roger Bacon

,a founder o f English

eXperien tialism . Instead o f reason ing down from un iversals

,accepted o n authority

,he insists upon the necessity

o f generalising from experience,o f such a Study o f the

language o f nature as shall discover to us the really significant universals or those which are truly representative o fthe actual nature o f things. It is a doctrine which wefind restated in somewhat modified forms by Hobbes andBerkeley

,as well as by Bacon ; but none o f these later

statements o f the doctrine is equal to that o f Ockham inadequacy and discrim ination .

1 0p . cit. 11. 467.

PART I

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY

THE first task o f philosophy In the seventeenth centurywas to differentiate itself from theology, to assert thefreedom o f the scientific intellect from the bondage o f

authority,and to determine the proper method o f this

independent investigation o f the nature o f reali ty.‘Modern

philosophy originates in a chan e o f the centre o f interestfrom God and the supernatural to nature and the interestso f the secular life . Preoccupiedwith the problem o f thedifferentiation o f Science from theology

,philosophy 15 less

interested in the question o f its own differentiation fromthe Sciences. It conceives i ts function as the determ inationo f scientific method and the construction o f the systemo f the sciences

,rather than as the solution o f a problem

peculiar to itself andl ing beyond the scope o f the scienceseven in their sum . t is Locke who first Clearly differentiates and defines the peculiar problem o f philosophy asthe investigation o f the nature and extent o f humanknowledge

,the prev ious question left unanswered by all

the special sc iences. Bacon and Hobbes propose twovery different answers to the question o f sc ientific methodand whi le the former never really gets beyond the questiono f method

,the latter proceeds to the construction o f a

general metaphysical theory which,like his theory o f

ethics,proved to be o f great importance in stimulating

others,within his own century as well as later

,to

speculation o n the possibilities o f a more adequatesolution o f the problem . Bacon contended fo r thesubst itution o f an inductive and experiential fo r the

I 7 B


deductive and d ialectical method o f Scholastic philosophy.

In his eyes a ‘ natural history ’ or a complete inductiono f the facts was the only suflicien t basis o f true scientificexplanation and

,in spite o f his strenuous polemic against

Scholasticism, he was enough o f a Scholastic to believein the existence o f a fixed number o f fundamental formso r Species

,and to regard the function o f science as the

discovery o f these forms.’ Hobbes,on the other hand

,

held that the essential feature o f scientific explanationwas rational demonstration, and found himself forced toconclude

,as the result o f such demonstration

,that matter

alone was real . The Cambridge Platonists, who soughtto refute the materialism o f Hobbes

,were even more

consistently rationalistic in their method than Hobbesh imself

,and endeavoured to demonstrate

,after Plato

,the

Spiritual constitution o f reality .

Locke followed Bacon in insisting upon the necessityo f adopting what he called the h istorical plain method

,

’

which,as applied to the facts o f the human understanding

,

i s the psychological or introspective method . His chiefsign ificance lies, however, as already pointed out, in hisnew statement o f the problem o f philosophy as that o fthe nature and extent o f human knowledge and thedifference between knowledge and opinion or belief.Both Bacon and Hobbes had aflirmed the distinctio n , inthe interest rather o f scientific freedom than in that o frevealed religion ; but nei ther had offered a reasonedaccount o f its nature and validi ty. Locke’s supremeconcern is fo r the interests o f the moral and religious life

,

and the exigencies o f his theory o f knowledge lead directlyto the formulation o f the distinction in question ourknowledge being Short

,we want something else . ’ The

significance o f Locke’s new question is n o t l imited to hisown century o r to English philosophy ; henceforth i tsparamount importance is matter o f common acknowledgment.The necessity o f differentiating ethics, as well as scienceand metaphysics

,from theology was forced upon the

modern mind by the dissolution o f the pol itico-ecclesi

THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 1 9

astical system o f the Middle Ages. The assertion o f

the independent authority o f the State raised the questiono f the basis o f its authority and the grounds o f poli ticalobedience

,and recourse was had to the S toic conception

o f a ‘ law o f nature ’ which had been adopted by theRoman jurists. The interpretation o f th is conceptionoccupied the energies o f the moral and political philosophyo f the seventeenth century . The anxieties o f the politicalSi tuation in England

,the rising tide o f anarchy and

revolution,forced upon Hobbes the question o f the nature

and seat o f sovereign authority ; and in his eagerness tosecure the stability o f the State he could see no alternativeto polit ical absolutism,

a doctrine which Locke set himselfto refute . Hobbes laid the foundation o f th is poli ticaltheory in a doctrine o f ethical relativ ism and egoismwhich shocked the moral sense o f his contemporaries,and led to the effort o f the ethical rationalists to sub

stitute fo r i t the doctrine o f the absoluteness o f morallaws as expressions o f the rational constitution o f theun iverse and obligatory upon all men as rational beings .Thus the alternative between a virtually util itarian and

an intuitional theory o f ethics is clearly Stated, and theissue between the two views fairly joined, before theclose o f the century .

CHAPTER I

BACON : PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENTIFIC

METHOD

IN n o other case in the history o f philosophy is it so

difficult,as perhaps in no other case is i t more important

,

to determine the relation between the phi losopher andthe man . To most o f his biographers the character o fBacon has presented a hopeless paradox and dualism

,

which has served as a text to point the familiar moralthat the highest gifts may be turned to the basest usesand the best insight blinded by worldliness and selfishnesso f motive, that the corruption o f the best is the worst .The most superficial interpretation o f the tragedy o f his

career is that offered by Macaulay in his famous essay.To him it is simply the exhibition, on a great scale, o f

the disparateness o f intellectual and moral greatness,o f

the falseness o f the Socratic maxim that virtue is knowledge . Bacon, that is to say, l ived two totally disconnectedl ives, the intellectual and the moral the temptationswhich beset him in the latter could not possibly arisein the former, nor could the high ideals o f the philosopheravai l the pol itician or the man . Such a dual ism betweenthe intellectual and the practical l ife is repudiated byKuno Fischer, who was the first to insist o n the un i tyo f Bacon’s character in the two spheres. But KunoFischer himself reasserts the antithesis in a new form.

According to his v iew,i t is to the extreme intellectual ism

o f Bacon ’s temperament, to his lack o f emotional depth,

his poverty o f natural human affection, the dispassionateness o f his nature, that we must trace at once his splendidintellectual achievement and the defects o f his moral and

20

2 2 ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

conceived his vocation to lie no less in the Sphere o f

Statesmanship than in that o f philosophy. It would havebeen inconsistent with h is practical and utilitarian estimate o f knowledge to depreciate the work o f the statesman

,as he conceived it. I f he regarded himself, in his

study o f nature, as the servant o f mankind, as the discoverer o f Nature’s laws that he might subdue her activities to the uses o f mankind and ‘ the relief o f man ’sestate

,

’ in h is pol itical activ ity he no less regarded himselfas the servant o f his country

,discovering the path o f her

true and permanent well-being, and persuading, if hemight

,the king and parliament to follow that path. As

Nichol says,

‘ There is no more flagrant freak o f erit icism than to treat his public l ife as that o f o ne playingtruant from his Academy or Porch. However he mayhave deceived himself

,half o f Bacon’s heart was set on

politics. ’ 1 H is heart was as much set on establish ing ona basis o f slowly broadening rights the foundations o f theGreater B ritain o f his dreams as o n reading the riddleso f the earth and sky.

’ 2 There is no warrant fo rascribinghis interest in poli tics to the gratification o f selfish ambition ; his aim was as essentially d isinterested in thepol itical as in the intellectual l ife nor was his abil i ty lessconspicuous in the one case than in the other. ‘ Thoseabil i ties

,

’ says Wi ll iam Rawley,

‘ which go single inother men were all conjoined and met in him.

’ Inhim theoretic insight and practical sagacity were Singularly combined ; so far as the union o f knowledge withability to rule is concerned

,he is the most remarkable

case, at least in English history, o f the realisation o fPlato’s

dream o f the philosopher-statesman . He realises at thesame time his own ideal o f the true philosopher o f themodern type

,who differs from his ancien t and mediae val

prototypes in being no t a recluse,whether o f the academic

or o f the monastic sort, but a man o f affairs, an activeci tiz en .Nor is there historic warrant fo r the und iscriminating

1 Bacon , in Philo sophical Clas sics ,’ vol. i. p. 3.

1 [bid i. 68.

BACON 23

con demnation which has so often been passed upon Bacon’scareer as a statesman . As Gardiner has said

,

‘ No o ne

to whom the history o f that half-century [the halfcentury following the period o f Bacon ’s poli tical activity]is present can agree with those numerous writers whoSpeak o fBacon ’s poli tical work as inferior to his scientific.’ 1

The primary cause o f his failure as a statesman is to besought rather in the conditions which beset his politicalactiv ity than in essential defects e ither o f insight or o f

character. ‘ An intellectual unity,

’ says the same writer,

‘ pervades the whole o f the adv ice which he gave. Hemay sometimes have held his tongue when he knewthat h is counsel would be disregarded

,but he never

prophesied smooth things to suit the wishes o f those bywhom his counsel was required .

’ The truth is that hewas too much in advance o f his time on all the deeperquestions o f Statesmanship to get the ear either o f thesovere ign or o f parliament

,o r even to convince his

colleagues in authority o f the wisdom o f his measures.Without fit instruments it is impossible for the ablest toach ieve poli tical success

,and no Statesman can command

the instruments . Even the worse than questionablemethods to which he had recourse in his endeavours tocompass his political ends were

,to a considerable extent

,

dictated to him by the conditions o f his activi ty. AS

Gardiner has pointed out, ‘ Bacon must look to achievea statesman ’s ends by the means o f a courtier.’ Andwhen we remember that the Court was that o f El iz abethand o f James

,we shall not be so ready to blame Bacon

for the subserviency o f his language or fo r the Mach iavellism o f his policy as those have been who have forgottento make allowance fo r this l imiting condition . Muchwhich we should not tolerate in a statesman o f our ownday was practically inevi table in that age. Doubtless thelower tendencies o f Bacon ’s moral nature

,as they are

revealed to us in the Essays, and still more nakedly in theCommentarius Solutus, to which he seems to have confided

1 Art. Bacon ,

’

Diet. of Nat. Biog.


his inmost thoughts and purposes,made it only too easy

fo r him to fall in with the prevail ing usages o f public l ife .

But,on the whole

,his failure as a statesman must be se t

down rather to his lack o f Opportun ity than to h is unworthy use o f the opportunity which he had .

Even the most damaging incident in his political career,his treatment o f Essex, assumes a somewhat differen taspect in the light o f the dominant purpose o f Bacon ’s lifeas a statesman . He himself tells us that his interest inEssex from the first was political rather than personal i twas his anticipation fo r him o f a great public career thatattached Bacon to Essex and, on Bacon

’s side at least,

formed the basis o f their friendship. ‘ I held at that timemy lord to be the fittest instrument to do good to theS tate and therefore I applied myself to him in a mannerwhich I think happeneth rarely among men .

’ In acknowledging the Earl ’s gift o f land

,he thus carefully l imits the

extent o f the obligation under which he considers himselfto have come My lord

,I see I must be your homager

and hold land o f your gift ; but do you know the mannero f doing homage in law ? Always i t is with a sav ing o f

the faith to the king and his other lords ; and therefore,my lord

,I can be n o more yours than I was

,and it must be

with the ancient sav ings. I reckon myselfas a common—and as much as is lawful to be enclosed o f a common

,

so much your lordship shall be sure to have. I confessI love some things much better than I love your lordship

,

as the queen ’s service,her quiet and contentment, her

honour,her favour

,the good o f my country

,and the like.’

There could have been no clearer intimation that,if

the personal interests o f friendship should ever conflictwith the h igher claims o f country and devotion to theCrown

,the former must yield without reserve to the latter

claims . That Bacon didhis best to avert the fat al coll isionbetween Essex and Eliz abeth by that ‘ faithful counsel ’

in which '

he saw one o f the best fruits o f a true friendship,

is unquestionable. That, after the failure o f his best efforts,he should subordinate what he regarded as the lower towhat he regarded as the h igher Obligation

,and Should

BACON 25

remind his friend o f ‘ the ancient savings,’ was the only

course consisten t with his ideal o f publ ic duty.His conduct in his jud icial capacity is more d ifficult toexplain o r excuse. But the exten t o f his shortcomingshere is to be carefully noted. The evidence seems to Showthat

,while he fell in with the prevail ing custom o f receiv

ing presents from suitors, both while their sui ts werepending and afterwards

,and allowed himself to be influenced

by the constantly reiterated sol ic itations o f Buckingham ,

he never del iberately sold justice,or accepted a bribe .

This is Gardiner’s conclusion,even in View o f the

argument o f Abbott and the special investigation o f

the S ingle doubtful case by Heath . Why, then, i t maybe asked

,did he plead guilty to the charges brought

against him ? The answer is to be found in the factthat ‘ he knew that a trial o f th is kind was a trial onlyin n ame . ’ 1 Bacon himself saw in the accusation theexpression o f a higher ideal o f j ustice than that whichhad guided previous judicial practice

,and there seems no

goo d reason for refusing to accept his own characterisationo f i t ‘ I was the justest j udge that was in England thesefi fty years ; but it was the justest censure in parliamentthat was these two hundred years. ’

Yet in Bacon’s conduct as a judge,as well as in his

treatment o fEssex,there is revealed that poverty o fmoral

feel ing,’ as Gardiner describes it, which is, in part at

least,the secret o f the tragedy o f his public life, and in

which we must find the explanation o f his moral failure.How otherwise are we to explain his incapacity to realisethe gravity o f the sen tence

,the finality of his degradation

in the eyes o f his fellow-countrymen How otherwise canwe understand the apparent absence o f regret

,or even o f

reluctance,in his prosecution o f Essex, nay, his superfluous

eagerness to bring about the ruin o f his friend It is herethat Kuno Fischer’s insistence upon Bacon’s lack o f warmhuman affection

,what Gardiner calls the extrao rdin

arily un emotional character o f Bacon’s mind

,

’o rwhat we

1 Church, Bacon , in English Men o fLetters,’ p. 147.


may perhaps describe as his moral superficiality, becom esimportant as a factor in the explanation o f his conduct.The whole passion o f his nature seems to have exhausteditself in the pursui t o f knowledge, on the one hand, and o fthe good o f his country, on the other. To these two greatends all more personal ends and i nterests were ruthlesslysubordinated

,and the subordination does not appear to

have cost him any struggle . It was, o f course, only in thepursuit o f the latter or political end that any real confli ctwas liable to occur

,and in his devotion to this end Bacon

seems to have been unscrupulous in the choice o f mean s.Pol itical failure was his lot, even on these terms ; but i thad been better to have failed by reason o f a greater regardfo r moral considerations than to have purchased the possibility o f political success at such a moral sacrifice. H ismoral superficiality, his lack o f moral sensitiveness, affectseven his intellectual life and seriously narrows his v ision o f

truth . He tells us that ‘ the human understanding is nodry light

,but receives an infusion from the will and affec

tions but his own defect seems rather to have been a lacko f emotion and affection which made him incapable o f

appreciating the significance o f these elements in humanlife . How otherw ise are we to explain his lack o f interestin the metaphysical problems raised by the religious life

,

the merely conven tional Character o f h is own religion,i ts

lack o f real Significance for his l ife, his conception o f poetryas merely feigned history

,

’ or the mean prudentialism o f

so many o f his maxims o f conduct in the Essays But ifh is moral superficiality affects his intellectual as well as hispractical l ife

,i t at the same time enables us to understand

how he is greater in the former than in the latter sphere.And it is with his intellectual achievement that we arehere concerned .

Whatever may have been the nature and the limits o fhis political ambition

,Bacon ’s intellectual ambition was

simply l imitless . ‘ I have taken all knowledge fo r myprovince

,

’ was an exaggerated statement o f his functionand vocation in the intellectual field, but a l iteral defini

BACON 27

tion o f that function and vocation as he himself conceivedit. He regarded himself as the inaugurator o f a new erain philo sophy

,the founder o f a new philosophy, destined

to supersede that o f Aristotle,which had dominated the

thought o f the Middle Ages. He trusted the judgmento f posterity to authenticate a claim too proud to beacceptable to the men o f his own age. Nor was hisconfidence misplaced . The judgment o f history has

awarded to Bacon,along with Descartes, the position o f

founder o f modern philosophy. I f i t has no t confirmedhis condemnation o f Aristotle and o f ancient Greekphilosophy

,but has rather seen in the new philosophy a

return to the point o f v iew o f the old, a revival o f theGreek Spirit o f free and independent inquiry, i t has yetrecogn ised in the fearless repudiation o f authority which iscommon to Bacon and Descartes the decisive break withScholast icism andMedia valism

,and in Bacon ’s proclama

tion o f experience as the only source, and o f Induction as

the only fruitful method o f knowledge, the watchword o fmodern science and philosophy

, as d istinguished fromGreek Speculation

, o n the one hand, and from Scholasticdogmatism and disputation, o n the other.The new departure o f Bacon in phi losophy thus takesi ts place in the wider movement o f the Renaissance i t isthe intellectual expression o f that movement. The earlierRenaissance

, o f the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries,had been human istic ; its interest was in l iterature andart . The later Renaissance, o f the sixteenth century, o fwhich Bacon is the immediate product and expositor, wasnaturalistic ; i ts predominan t in terest was in science, orthe interpretation o f nature . The results o f th is newdirection o f attent ion, especially in astronomy, were o f

the most remarkable character. The Copernican theorychanged the centre o f man ’s world from his own planetto the sun round which it revolved. The discovery o f

America,which resulted from the scientific study o f the

earth and the appl ication o f science to navigation,ex

tended the horiz on o f English enterprise. Magnetic investigatio ns suggested new possibilities in physical science,

‘Q


while Harvey’s discovery o f the circulation o f the bloodwas epoch-making fo r the sc ience o f physiology and the arto f medicine.What chiefly impressed Bacon was the fruitfulness o fthe new knowledge in its appl ications to human life. No

less than a revolution in the conditions o f l ife,he feels,

has been brought about by the scientific activities o f thetime ; man is rapidly becoming the master and ruler o fnature. The splendid fruits o f the new knowledgeStimulated h im to the great ambition o f universalising th isdomin ion o f man over nature. He felt that it would beunworthy o f the new age in which he was l iving to b econ tent with anything short o fman ’s complete sovereignty .

‘ For th is great building o f the world has been in our

age wonderfully open ed and thorough-l ighted inrespect o f our sea-voyages

,by which the whole globe o f

the earth has, after the manner o f the heavenly bodies,been many times compassed and circumnavigated .And this proficiency in navigation and discovery mayplant also great expectation o f the further proficien ce andaugmentation o f the sciences For so the prophe tDaniel

,in speaking o f the latter times, foretells that many

shall go to and fro o n the earth, and knowledge shall beincreased

,

” as if the Open ing and thorough passage o f theworld

,and the increase o f knowledge, were appointed to

be in the same age. ’ 1 Why should we not ‘ make themind o f man by help o f art a match fo r the nature o f

things ? ’ The true phi losophy is the Ars inveniendi,the method at once o f discovery and inven tion, a scienceo f Nature which shall teach man how to master Natureand compel her to serve his purposes. For the secret o fth is mastery is that obed ience which is i tself the result o fknowledge. ‘ Nature is not conquered except by obedience .’ Man must be the servant o f Nature if he wouldbe her lord . Art is but nature understood, and uti l isedfo r human ends. Human knowledge and human powermeet in o ne.

’ What the antiquated ‘Magic ’

o f the

1 D e Aug. S ci., Bk . 11. ch. x.

3o ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

casting beams o f heat and light upon society,assuredly

divin i ty knows it not.’ 1 It is in i ts practical util ity thathe finds the value o f knowledge. Learn ing ‘ is no t l ikea lark

,which can mount and sing and please i tself and

nothing else ; i t rather partakes o f the nature o f a

hawk,which can soar aloft

,and can also descend and strike

upon its prey at pleasure. ’ 2 At the same time he distinguishes carefully between the superficial utilitarian ismwhich is impatient fo r the fruits o f knowledge and the

patient temper which seeks primarily for l ight or insight,

and is content to wait fo r the harvest o f works to appearin its due season .

‘ For though it be true that I am

principally in pursuit o f works and the active departmen to f the sciences

,yet I wait fo r harvest- time

,and do not

attempt to mow the moss or to reap the green corn . Fo r

I well know that axioms once rightly discovered willcarry whole troops o fworks along wi th them

,and produce

them,not here and there one

,but in clusters. And that

unreasonable and puerile hurry to snatch by way o f

earnest at the first works which come within reach, Iutterly condemn and reject

,as an Atalan ta’

s apple thathinders the race . ’ 3 He accordingly signalises the superiorimportance o f ‘ l ight-giving ’

(lucifera) to‘ fruit-bearing ’

( fructifi ra) experiments, o n the ground that the interestso f the larger uti l ity are better secured by the former thanby the latter. It is only in a high and ultimate Sense, asthe instrument o f man’s sovereignty over nature

,that a

util itarian estimate o f knowledge can justly be attributedto Bacon.

“ Nay, while he cannot separate its practicalfruits from knowledge

,or conceive o f a knowledge which

should be without such fruits,whi le he regards content

ment with the satisfaction o f our intellectual curiosi ty asessentially Selfish

,he yet seems in the end to agree with

the Aristotel ian estimate o f pure knowledge . ‘ And yet(to speak the whole truth), as the uses o f l ight are infin i te,in enabling us to walk

,to ply our arts

,to read

,to recognise

1 De Aug. Sci, , Bk . V I I. ch . i. 1 I bid , Bk . viii. ch. I I.3 Nov. Org .

, Plan o f the Wo rk, p. 29 .

1 Cf: Windelband’

s Gesclticnte der neueren Pltilosopk ie, vo l. i. p. I 32 .

BACON 3I

o ne another ; and nevertheless the very beholding o f the

light is i tself a more excellent and a fairer thing than allthe uses o f i t —So assuredly the very contemplation o f

things,as they are

,WIthout superstition or imposture,

e rror or confu sion, is in i tself more worthy than all thefrui t o f inventions. ’ 1 ‘ I am build ing in the humanunderstanding a true model o f the world, such as it is infact

,not such as a man ’s own reason would have it to be.Truth therefore and utili ty are here the very same

things ; and works themselves are o f greater value aspledges o f truth than as contributing to the comforts o fl ife . ’ 2 And in the famous Essay on Truth he says :Howsoever these things are thus in men ’s depravedaffections, yet truth , which only doth judge itself, teacheththat the inquiry o f truth, which is the love-making orwooing o f i t ; the knowledge o f truth

,which is the

presence o f i t ; and the belief o f truth, which is theenjoying o f i t

,is the sovereign good o f human nature.’

Bacon represents his dissent from Aristotle regard ingthe method gf knowledge as more radical than thatregar Ing its

fl

end. For the deductive method o f Aristotlehe would substitute the inductive method ; fo r theconceptual he would Substitute the experiential

,o bser

vatio nal, and experimental method . The syllogism,he

holds,is ‘ no match fo r the subtlety o f nature.’ 3 ‘The

syllogism consists o f propositions, propositions consist o fwords

,words are symbols o f notions. Therefore if the

notions themselves (which is the root o f the matter)are confused and over-hasti ly abstracted from the facts

,

there can be no firmness in the superstructure. Our onlyhope therefore lies in a true induction .

“ 1 ‘Men mustforce themselves fo r awhile to lay their notions by andbegin to familiarise themselves with facts. ’ 5 For ‘ thereis no soundness in our notions, whether logical orphysical. All are fantastical and ill-defined"1 The

1 Nov. Org. , Bk . i. Aph. 1 29 . f Bk . i. Aph. 1 24.

3 lbid , Bk . i. Aph. 1 3. Bk . i. Aph. 14.

I ota. Bk . i. Aph. 36 . Josef, Bk . i. Aph. 1 5.


only valid notions are those which are derived from acareful study o f the facts themselves. ‘ We must n o t

‘ anticipate ’ nature by reading our own preconceptionsinto the facts ; we must be content to ‘ interpret ’

nature,we must allow her to d ictate to us the conceptions

which shall truly represent the facts. ‘There are andcan be only two ways o f searching into and discoveringtruth . The one flies from the senses and particulars tothe most general axioms

,and from these principles

,the

truth o f which i t takes fo r settled and immovable,proceeds

to judgment and to the discovery o f middle axioms. Andthis way is now in fashion . The other derives axiomsfrom the senses and particulars

,rising by a gradual and

unbroken ascent,so that it arrives at the most general

axioms last o f all . This is the true way,but as yet

untried .

’ 1 The former is the method o f disputation allthat i t secures is consistency with the prem isses. Thelatter is the method o f d iscovery if we would ascertainthe actual nature o f things

,we must investigate the truth

o f the premisses,or rather we must patiently travel to

the true principles or axioms by an unprejudiced studyo f the facts. Instead o f attempting to reason out thenature o f th ings

,we must be content to ‘ elic it reason

from the facts by a just and methodical process ’

o f

i nterpretation . The futile and verbal disputation wh ichresults from the employment o f the deductive method isillustrated by the ‘ degenerate learning ’

o f the Schoolmen

,who , having strong and sharp wits, and abundance

o f leisure, and small variety o f reading but their wits beingshut up in the cells o f a few authors (chiefly Aristotletheir dictator) as their persons were shut up in the cellso f monasteries and colleges ; and knowing little h istory,either o f nature or time ; d id out o f n o great quanti tyo f matter, and infin ite agitation o f wit

,Spin out unto us

those laborious webs o f learn ing which are extant in theirbooks. For the wit and m ind o f man

,if i t work upon

matter,which is the contemplation o f the creatures o f

1 Non . o rg. , Bk . i. Aph. 1 9 .

BACON 33

God, worketh according to the stuff, and is l imited therebybut if i t work upon itself

,as the spider worketh his web

,

then it is endless,and brings forth indeed

.

cobwebs o f

learn ing, adm irable fo r the fineness o f thread and work,but o f no substance o r profit . ’ 1

Bacon is no t to be understood,o f course

,as accusing

ei ther the Schoolmen or their master o f following thepurely deductive method

,or evolving a philosophy o f

nature o ut o f their own m inds. What he does accusethem o f is rash generalisation

,hasty and unwarranted

induction . They are too easily satisfied as to the trutho f their prem isses or axioms ; their chief, though nottheir sole

,interest is in the deduction o f the consequences

o f these hasti ly accepted principles. It is n o t that theold phi losophy was not based upon observation o f thefacts, but that the observation was not wide enough orvaried enough

,and that it was not supplemented by

experiment . Nature must be examined and crossexam ined ; the interrogation must proceed by ‘ torture

,

’

if it is to be successful . The true induction proceedsslowly and gradually in its generalisations. ‘Then

,and

then only,may we hope well o f the sciences

,when in a

just scale o f ascent,and by successive Steps n o t interrupted

or broken,we rise from particulars to lesser axiom s ; and

then to middle axioms,one above the other ; and last o f

all to the most general . For the lowest axioms differ butsl ightly from bare experience

,while the h ighest and most

general (which we now have) are notional and abstractand without solidity . But the middle are the true andsolid and l iv ing axioms

,on which depend the affairs and

fortunes o f men . The understanding must n o t

therefore be supplied with wings,but rather hung with

weights,to keep it from leaping and flying. ’ 2

In their haste to arrive at general or ‘ first principles,

the Aristotelians have fallen into the error wi th whichBacon specially charges the opposite school

,namely

,the

empirics,’ that o f an uncritical induction which proceeds1 Advancement of Learn ing, Works , iii. 285, 286.

N ov . 0rg. , Bk . i. Aph. 104.


by ‘ simple enumeration o f the instances which appearto favour the conception o r theory adopted

,and fails to

take account o f the negative instances,

’ or those which,

if they had been attended to , would have led to itsrej ection . For this ‘ childish type o f induction Baconsubstitutes a critical induction which is on the outlookfo r cases which contradict the theory suggested by asuperficial acquaintance with the facts. ‘ The inductionwhich is to be available fo r the discovery and demonstration o f sciences and arts

,must analyse nature by proper

rejections and exclusions ; and then , after a suflicien t

number o f negatives,come to a conclusion on the aflirma

tive instances.’ 1 It is only to such a careful scrutiny o fthe facts that experience will yield the secret o f thenature o f things. If the men o f dogmas or reasoners‘ resemble spiders

, who make cobwebs out o f their ownsubstance

,

’ the ‘ men o f experiment ’ are ‘ l ike the antthey only collect and use .

’ Bacon finds the analogue o fthe true method in the example o f the bee, which takesa middle course ; i t gathers its material from the flowerso f the garden and o f the field

,but transforms and digests

i t by a power o f its own . No t unlike this is the truebusiness o f philosophy ; fo r i t nei ther relies solely orchiefly on the powers o f the mind

,nor does i t take the

matter which it gathers from natural history and mechani

cal experiments and lay it up in the memory whole, as i tfinds it but lays i t up in the understanding altered anddigested. Therefore from a closer and purer leaguebetween these two faculties

,the experimental and the

rational (such as has never yet been made), much may behoped .

’ 1 This reconcil iation between a true rationalismand a true empiricism was clearly Bacon ’

S ambition fromthe first, and the source o f pecul iar satisfaction when hefinally accomplished i t. In a letter to Burghley In 1 592

he wri tes : If I could purge i t [knowledge] o f two sortso f rovers, whereof the one with frivolous disputations,confutations

,and verbosi ties

,the other with blind experi

1 Nov. o rg. , Bk . i. Aph. 1 0 5.1 I bid., Bk . i. Aph. 95.

BACON 5

ments and auricular traditions and impostures, hath committed so many spo i ls, I hope I should bring in industriousobservations and profi table inventions and discoveries— the

best state o f that province.’ And in the Preface to the

Nassau: Organum he says I suppose that I have establishedfo r ever a true and lawful marriage between the empiricaland the rational faculty

,the unkind and ill- starred divorce

o fwhich has thrown into confusion all the affairs o f thehuman family.

’

The true method o f knowledge is the Interpretation,the false method is the Anticipation o f nature . We mustderive our notions from the facts o f experience

,n o t deduce

the facts from our preconceived notions. We must cometo nature with an open mind

,with the docility o f the

little chi ld for the kingdom o f knowledge,l ike the

kingdom o f heaven,is entered only sub persona infantis.

Instead o f seeing in things the reflection o f ourselves,

and interpret ing the world after the analogy o f man,we

must be content to let our minds reflect the nature o f

things,and to interpret them after the analogy o f the

un iverse . Bacon’s conception o f knowledge is that it isthe copy or reproduction o f real ity the mind— the senseand the intellect—is

,or may become

,a true mirror o f

th ings. The error, the distortion o f reali ty,results from

our refusal to observe with sufficient care,and to be

content with the discovery o f the order o f things as thatorder is revealed to careful observation and experiment .‘ All depends on keeping the eye steadily fixed on thefacts o f nature and so receiving their images simply as

they are. For God forbid that we should give o ut adream o f our own imagination fo r a pattern o f the worldrather may He graciously grant to us to write an apocalypseor true Vision o f the footsteps o f the Creator imprinted onH i s creatures.’ 1

But there are certain defects in the mind as a mirroro f the world, defects partly innate, partly adventi tious.

1 Nov. org., Plan o f theWork , pp. 32 , 33.


The human understanding is like a false mirror, which,receiv ing rays i rregularly, distorts and discolours thenature o f things by mingling its own nature with it .

’ 1

As an uneven mirror distorts the rays o f obj ects according to i ts own figure and section, so the mind, when itreceives impress ions o f objects through the sense

,cannot

be trusted to report them truly,but in form ing its notions

mixes up its own nature with the nature o f things.” 1

These false images,reflections o f the m ind itself

,which

,

coming between the mind and reali ty,vitiate knowledge

,

Bacon calls ‘ Idols ’ and he distinguishes fourchief classes o f them. First there are the Idols o f theTribe (Idola Tribus), which have their foundation inhuman nature itself

,and in the tribe or race o f men

,

’ as,

fo r example, the tendency to observe the instances favourable to any opinion we have adopted and to ignore thosewhich are unfavourable to it

,a tendency which explains

the hold o f supersti tions upon the human mind as well asthe unwarranted inductions o f the Aristotel ian philosophers ; o r the tendency to believe that th ings are as

we wish them to be,rather than as they are. Secondly

,

there are the Idols o f the Cave (Ida/a Specus), which taketheir rise in the pecul iar constitution , mental o r bodily, o feach ind ividual

,and also in education

,habit

,and acciden t.’

For example,

‘ Some m inds are stronger and apter to markthe differences o f things, others to mark thei r resemblances ’ some are dominated by the love o f antiquity,others by the love o f novelty the bias o f a Special scienceor speculation affects its devotees. Thirdly

,the Idols o f

the Market-place ( Idola Fori) are the most troublesome o fall idols which have crept into the understanding throughthe all iances o f words and names

,

’ and are so called because they are formed by the intercourse and associationo f men with each other,

’ and which cause that acceptanceo f verbal fictions and confused notions which is characteristic o f the vulgar understanding. Finally there are theIdols o f the Theatre (Ida/a Theatri) which, l ike the Idols

1 Nov. org., Bk . i. Aph. 41 .2 1m" Plan o f the Work, p. 27.


phenomenal,the latter the real and essen tial aspect o f the

case. The Form is what differentiates one thing fromothers

,that which makes it what it is

,its essential and

characteristic being.

‘The Form o f a thing ’ he says,‘ is the very thing itself

,and the thing differs from the

form no otherwise than as the apparent differs from the

real,o r the external from the internal

,or the thing in

reference to man from the thing in reference to theuniverse . ’ 1 In this Form o f the thing he sees the clue tothe secret o f its production . On a given body to gen erateand superinduce a new nature or new natures

,is the work

and aim o f human power.’ 2 Bacon warns us,however,

no t to confuse these ultimate ‘ forms ’ with the moreobvious qual ities which we are apt to regard as primary oressential. ‘When I assign so prominent a part to Forms,I cannot to o often warn and admon ish men against applying what I say to those forms to which their thoughts andcontemplations have h itherto been accustomed .

’ 3 TheForm o f Heat

,fo r example

,is found in something appa

ren tly quite differen t from Heat i tself, namely, certa inmodes o f motion . These Forms constitute the alphabeto f nature

,out o f the manifold combinations o f whose

letters all the variety o f its phenomena may be explained .

Bacon ’s ultimate category,i t thus appears

,is not cause

but substance. He conceives the world as a staticalcombination o f elements rather than as a development o feffects from causes. The Natural H istory which investigates the causal sequence o f the phenomena is only thepreparation fo r the Natural Phi losophy which traces thecomplexities o f the apparent quali ties to the few S impleForms or real d ifferences which belong to the substanceo f things. Bacon’s point o f View is that o f Scholasticrealism

,rather than that o f modern science. We are

not to be misled by his identification o f the Form withthe Law o f the thing

, as when he says that ‘ the Formo f Heat or the Form o f Light is the same thing as theLaw o f Heat o r the Law o f Light,

’ 4 or when he speaks1 Nov . Org , Bk . I I . Aph. I3.

1 I bid. , Bk . II . Aph . I .

8 laid , Bk . ii. Aph. 17.4 I ota, Bk . ii. Aph. 1 7.

BACON 39

o f nature’s ‘ fundamental and universal laws which co n

stitute Forms,

’ or says that ‘ though in nature nothingreally exists beside indiv idual bodies

,perform ing pure

individual acts according to a fixed law, yet in philosophythis very law

,and the investigation

,discovery

,and ex

planation o f it,is the foundation as well o f knowledge as

o f Operation . And it is this law,with its clauses

,that I

mean when I speak o f Forms.’ 1 Law

’

is clearly used,

in these passages,n o t in the modern scientific sense o f a

un iformity o f causal sequence between phenomena oroccurrences

,but in the sense o f a perman ent and iden

tical essence which is to be found beneath the apparentvariety

,a real simplic ity beneath the apparent complexity

o f nature ; the ‘ law ’

o f the thing is the dictation o f i tsform or essence to i ts properties and accidents.Bacon comes nearer to the point o f View o f modernscience in his doctr ines o f ‘ latent schematism and ‘ latentprocess,

’ i n which he recognises the continui ty o f all

phenomena and the molecular consti tution o fmatter . Bythe ‘ latent schematism ’ he means the subtle and suprasensible structu re or configuration o f the material particlesby the ‘ latent process

,

’ the no less subtle steps by whichthe movement o f those particles

,or natures

,

’ takes place .The chief interest o f these conceptions lies in the re

cognition which they imply o f the dynam ical aspect o fnature

,so far as concrete th ings are concerned . They

appear, however, almost like an interlude in the expositiono f Bacon ’s serious doctrine his real interest

,it is clear

,is

in the abstract and formal aspect o f reali ty, in the problemo f substance rather than in that o f cause.

It is in h is elaboration o f the methods o f reducing theapparent complexity o f nature to the simplic ity o f i tsfundamental Forms that Bacon mak es his great contribution to the logic o f induction . AS Fowler says,‘ Inductive Logic

,that is

,the systematic analysis and

arrangement o f inductive evidence,as d istinct from the

1 Nov. org. , Bk . I I . Aph. 2 .


natural induction which all men practise,is almost as much

the invention o f Bacon as Deductive Logic is that o fAristotle .’ 1 Thefilum labyrinthi is found in the selectiono f instan ces according to a principle ; without this cluewe shall never succeed in d ifferentiating the essential fromthe unessential elements. The first step is the preparationo f a ‘ Natural and Experimental H istory

,suflicien t and

good . ’ We must next construct ‘Tables and Arrangements o f Instances

,in such a method and order that the

understanding may be able to deal with them ’

; andfinally we must interpret these instances by ‘ true andlegitimate induction

,which is the very key o f interpreta

tion .

’ 1

Bacon formulates three inductive methods or, as he callsthem

,

‘Tables o f Presentation ’

: the Table o f Essenceand Presence

,the Table o f Deviation or o f Absen ce in

Proximity,and the Table o fDegrees or the Table o fCom

parison. They correspond closely with Mill’s Methodso f Agreement

,o f Difference

,and o f Concomitant Varia

tion s. The Table o f Essence and Presence consists ina muster or presentation before the understanding o f allknown instances which agree in the same nature

,though

in substance the most unlike,

’

fo r example,the heat o f the

rays o f the sun,o f flame

,and o f animal bodies. The

Table o f Dev iation,or o f Absence in Proxim i ty

,consists

o f ‘ a presentation to the understanding o f instances inwhich the given nature is wanting ; because the Form

ought no less to be absent when the given nature isabsent

,than present when it is present . But to note all

these would be endless. The negatives should’

therefo re

be subjoined to the aflirmatives, and the absence o f thegiven nature inquired o f in those subj ects only that aremost akin to the Others in which it is present and forthcoming.

’

O f this Table Bacon gives as examples therays o f the moon and o f stars and comets

,which ‘ are

found n o t to be hot to the touch .

’ In the Table o f

Degrees or o f Comparison ‘we must make a presentation1 Bacon , in English Philo so phers , ’ p. 9 1 .

1 Nov. org., Bk . ii. Aph. I o .

BACON 41

to the understanding o f instances in which the natureunder inquiry is found in different degrees, more o r less ;which must be done by making a comparison either o f i tsincrease and decrease in the same subject

,or o f its amount

in different subj ects,as compared one with another . For

no nature can be taken as the true form, unless i talways decrease when the nature in question decreases,and in l ike manner always increase when the nature inquestion increases.’ One o f Bacon ’s examples o f thisTable is that ‘ the less the mass o f a body, the sooner isi t heated by the approach o f a hot body ; which Showsthat all heat o f which we have experience is in some sortopposed to tangible matter. ’ In the use o f these methodsthe common prerequisi te is the adoption o f a negative andcr itical attitude. ‘ If the mind attempt this aflirmativelyfrom the first

,as when left to i tself i t is always wont to do

,

the result will be fanc ies and guesses and notions ill defined,and axioms that must be mended every day T o God

,

truly,the Giver and Architect o f Forms, and it may be to

the angels and higher intelligences,i t belongs to have an

aflirmative knowledge o f form s immediately,and from the

first contemplation . But this assuredly 15 more than mancan do

, to whom i t is granted only to proceed at first bynegatives

,and at last to end In aflirmatives

,after exclusion

has been exhausted .

’ 1 This insistence upon the importance o f taking account o f the ‘ negative instances

,

’the

substi tution o f a cri tical induction fo r the uncritical procedure by simple enumeration o f earl ier scientific theoryand practice

,is,as we have seen

,the distinctive and

original feature o f the Bacon ian method.I t is in this method that

,as he himself knew, Bacon

’sreal contribution to knowledge consists

,and if we are to

judge fairly o f his work as a thinker,i t is necessary to

keep in m ind this limitation o f his intellectual amb ition .

Rémusat quotes Lapo

lace’s criticism that Bacon hasgiven fo r the investigation o f truth precept but notexample. ’ Such a criticism

,supported as it is by the

1 Nov . org., Bk . II . Aph. 15.


many instances o f scientific error to be found in Bacon’sworks, is essentially unjust. AS Kuno Fischer has said,‘ According to the judgment o f De Maistre, Bacon wasno t a scientific genius. Why ? Because he made nodiscoveries himself

,but only wrote on the art o f making

d iscoveries ; because he was a theorist with respect tothis art. We may as well reproach the wri ter o n e sthe

tics fo r not being himself an artist.’ 1 Bacon’s ownprofessions anticipate and answer all such critic ism .

‘ Iam but a trumpeter

,n o t a combatant.’ The endeavours

and industry o f a private man can be but as an imagein a crossway

,that may point at the way, but cannot

go it.’ ‘ I have provided the machine,but the Stufi

'

mustbe gathered from the facts o f nature.’ 1 Even as regardsthe finality o f his method o r

‘ machine,

’ his claim s are

not extreme. ‘ No r do I mean to say that no improvement can be made upon these [rules o f in terpretation].On the contrary

,I that regard the mind not only in its

own faculties,but in i ts connection with things

,mus t

needs hold that the art o f discovery may advance as disco veries advance.’ 3

Still i t is not to be questioned that Bacon made greatclaims fo r his method

,and that he regarded it as in its

essential features the final method o f sc ientific investigatio n . He ev idently thought that, by putting into men

’

s

hands this invaluable instrument,he had not only ensured

the progress o f man ’s knowledge,and therefore o f his

domin ion over nature,but had once fo r all reduced men’s

intellectual abili ties to a common level. What hadhitherto depended upon the superior wit o f the individualwould depend henceforth only upon the patient andaccurate use o f an instrument which was equally availablefo r all. ‘ The course I propose fo r the discovery o f

sciences is such as leaves but l ittle to the acuteness andstrength o f wits

,but places all wits and understandings

nearly o n a level .’ 4 What are we to make o f this tremendons claim The only possible answer is that, apart1 Bacon , Eng. transl. , p. 337 ( I st 1 Nov. Org.

, Dedicatio n .

3 I bid. , Bk . i. Aph. 130 .

1 laid , Bk . i. Aph. 6 1 .

BACON 43

altogether from the merits or demerits o f his method,Bacon ’s enterprise was fundamentally mistaken and foredoomed to failure. It is futile to attempt to reduce theprocedure o f the scientific intellect to rules by followingwhich every investigator will be practically o n the samelevel. The facts do no t suggest their own interpretationthe in itiative always lies with the observ ing mind. Baconhimself accentuates the idea o f ‘ in terrogation

,

’ as distinguished from anticipation o f nature ; but he did n o treal ise that our success in compelling nature to give usi lluminating answers depends mainly upon our skill inframing the questions

,that a good question is more than

half the answer. Hypotheses non fingo was the great maximo f Bacon

,no less than o f Newton . But, as Mill

’s moreadequate analysis o f the method o f scientific discovery hasclearly shown

,and as the h istory o f science on every page

confirms,i t is in the framing and testing o f l ikely hypo

theses,and n o t in the accumulation o f facts, that the work

o f science really consists. We must,in th is sense

,an tic i

pate nature if we are ever to arrive at i ts true interpretatio n . The only explanation o f Bacon’s failure to

see this,to us so obv ious

,element in scientific procedure

is to be found in his preoccupation w ith the idea o f themind as the passive reflection o f reality

,in his revolt

against the a priori or deductive and conceptual methodo f the Schoolmen

,and in his determ ination to substitute

for th is a thoroughly empirical and inductive method,

as well as in his horror o f the unrestrained use o f theimagination which characterised the nature- phi losophieso f the Ital ian Renaissance . It is these historical co n

ditio n s o f his thought,rather than any essential one-sided

ness o f Bacon as a thinker,that must be held respon sible

fo r the limitations which make his philosophy o f scienceso unsatisfactory to us .

Bacon himself seems to have recognised the n ecessityo f supplementing the use o f his methods by some suchactivi ty o f the scientific intellect as that which we call theemployment o f Hypothesis. While he protests againstthe futil ity o f the procedure o f the Intellectus sihipermissus,


he yet concedes the legitimacy o f this independent activity,

as l ikely to result i n truth as well as error. S ince truthwill sooner come out from error than from confusion, Ith ink it expedient that the understanding should havepermission (arfiat permissio intellectus), after the threeTables o f First Presentation have been made andweighed

,to mak e an essay o f the Interpretation o f Nature

in the affirmative way . Which kind o f tentativeprocess I call the Indulgence o f the Understanding (permissionem intellectus), or the Incomplete Interpretat ion(interpretationem inchoatam), or the First V intage.’ 1

S imilarly,in the De Augmentis, he Speaks o f ‘ learned

experience,

’ ‘ which is rather a sagacity and a kind o f

hunting by scent,than a science. ’ 1 Moreover

,he co n

stantly makes use o f the method o f Analogy, and, as KunoFischer remarks

,

‘ in truth every analogy is an anticipatiomentis.

’ It has even been thought by some that Baconlost confidence in his own methods as time passed, and heobserved their failure to yield results ; and there is astriking passage in one o f his latest writings (the Prodromi)which seems to favour this v iew . He there admits thepossibil ity o f sc ientific discovery without the use o f hisOrganum

,or Rule o f Interpretation, so long as we rej ect

the Idols and apply ourselves to the first-hand interpretation o f nature. 1 It is also significant that the fifth parto f the great Instauration was to consist o f such thingsas I have myself discovered

,proved

,or added—no t

,how

ever,according to the true rules and methods o f interpreta

tion,but by the ordinary use o f the understanding in

inquiring and discovering.

’ These truths,he remarks

,

‘ will serve in the meantime fo r wayside inns, in whichthe m ind may rest and refresh i tself on its j ourney to

more certain conclusions. ’ ‘1 Had he perceived the organicconnection between these ten tatively accepted truths andthe methods o f establishing sc ientific truth as such, Baconwould have succeeded in formulating the complete methodo f the interpretation o f nature.1 Nov. Org. , Bk . I I . Aph. 20 .

1 De Aug , Bk . v. chap. I I .1 Works , ii. 69 1 .

1 Nov. Org. , Plan o f the Work , pp. 31 , 32.


says Abbott, ‘ appears to increase in proportion to hisdistrust o f the New Induction.

’ 1 In the Dedicationo f the Phenomena of the Universe

,published in 1 62 2,

he tells us that a small and well-ordered Natural Historyis the key o f all knowledge ’

; and in the Preface to thethird part o f the I nstauratio M agna he says : It comestherefore to this, that my Organum,

even if i t werecompleted

,would not without the NaturalHistory much

advance the Instauration o f the sciences,whereas the

Natural History without the Organum would advance itnot a l ittle.’ But a collection o f facts which is notinformed by some anticipation o f the ir theoretic signi

ficance can have l ittle, if any, scientific value ; here, aselsewhere

,deductive and inductive reason ing

,hypothesis

and verification,must go together. If a true natural

philosophy presupposes a wide and careful natural h istory,

i t is no less true that a natural h istory which is to serveas the basis o f a natural philosophy itself presupposes aprovisional natural philosophy or theory o f the facts. Anatural history which is not inspired by such a theoreticinterest in the facts collected will prove a waste o f labour

,

because i ts results will be irrelevan t to the inquiry inquestion. In Bacon ’s own language

,i t is not in the

‘ mere enumeration ’o f facts

,but in the discrimination o f

the relevan t o rsign ificant from the irrelevant and,therefore

,

insign ificant facts that the value o f the natural history lies.It is no t the mere number o f the facts

,but the selection

o f them, that determines their scientific value. Bacon’s

over-co nfidence in Natural H istory is only an added proofo f the inadequacy o f his conception o f the method o f

science .In two other notable respects Bacon showed a defectiveunderstand ing o f the scientific work which was actuallybeing done in his own time—in his depreciation o f themathematical method and o f special isation in science.Gal ileo and Kepler were applying mathematics to the

theory o f astronomy ; but Bacon , in his love for theexperimental method and his Suspicion o f deductive

1 Francis Bacon , p. 400 .

BACON 47

reasoning, regards such an application o f mathematics asa mere ‘ Supplement ’ to the true science o f astronomy.He Speaks o f Special isat ion like that o f Gilbert (almost theo nly o n e o f his contemporaries whom he mentions) as ifi t implied such a narrowness o f outlook as disqualifiedthose who practised it from taking a philosophical v iew o f

things,and he thinks Gilbert in danger o f ‘ becoming a

magnet .’ In both these respects the subsequent courseo f scientific discovery has justified his contemporaries

,and

condemned Bacon.The truth is, as we have already seen, that Baconbelonged as much to the Scholastic as to the modern age.H is place is that o f a transition- thinker

,and this constitutes

the importance o f his work,while it at the same tim e l im i ts

the possibilities o f his achievement . The terms which heconstantly uses in Speaking o f material phenomena arespecial ly significant o f this intermediate position . HeSpeaks o f the ‘ appeti tes ’ and ‘ desires ’

o f th ings,o f

‘ appetites which aim at a private good ’ and ‘ appetiteswhich aim at a more public good

,

’

o f ‘ bodies delightingin motion,

’o f ‘ spiri ts ’ where we Should speak o f

‘ forces.’ With all his impatience o f the ‘ superstitions ’

o f the Schoolmen , he is himself too much o f a Schoolmanto abandon their characteristic modes o f thought and

speech . With all his scientific ardour,he is the author

rather o f an impressive statement,or series o f statements

,

o f the scientific ideal o f his age than o f the method o f

real ising that ideal . The influence which he exerted onthe scientific thought o f his own and o f succeed ing ageswas that rather o f a prophet than o f a teacher ; he gaveart iculate expression to their own ideal

,he did not really

direct them in the realisation o f that ideal . How great thatinfluence was may be gathered from the fact that

,as

Fowler says,

‘ the foundation o f the Royal Society inEngland

,and possibly also that o f Similar societies on the

Continent, was due to the impulse given by Bacon to the

Study o f experimental science and the plans which hedevised fo r its prosecution,

’ 1 and that in the words o f

1 Introd. to Nov. Org. , p. 1 16.


Lord Morley, the French Encyclope dia was the d irectfruit o f Bacon ’s magn ificent conceptions. ’ 1

Bacon ’s own interest was Clearly more in NaturalPhilosophy

,or physical science

,than in Ph ilosophy

,as

d istinguished from Science— in the natural,as d istin

guished from the human sciences ; yet his influence uponthe actual progress o f the human o r philosophical sc ien ceshas been undoubtedly greater and more lasting than h isinfluence upon natural science . His significance fo rthe empirical movement o f philosophical thought in h isown country is especially remarkable. While the influ

ence o f Descartes is seen in the entire movement o f

Continental speculation , giving all the great thinkers aprevail ingly rationalistic tendency

,the influen ce o f Bacon

is no less clearly visible i n the entire movement o f Englishempiricism from Locke to Spencer. The spi rit o f themovement is the Baconian spirit o f observation and experimen t

,o f distrust in con ceptions and ‘ innate ideas

,

’

o f a supreme regard fo r ‘ matters o f fact,

’

o f con cern fo rthe practical as well as the theoretic aspects o f truth

,and

o f comparative unconcern fo r, if no t agnostic ind ifferenceto,the attainment o f an ultimate metaphysical or theo

logical synthesis. I t is here,rather than even in the great

impulse which he gave to the movement o f modernscience

,that Bacon ’s work is really most important. It is

here,even more defin itely than in the Sphere o f physical

sc ience,that he is the inaugurator o f a new era o f human

thought, in which the break with Scholasticism is mostcomplete .Bacon ’s interest in the ultimate questions o f Metaphysics and Theology is rather to Show that n o answerto these questions can be reached by the unaided intellect o f man

,than to attempt either a Metaphysic or a

Natural Theology in the usual sense o f these term s. The‘ key o f his opposition to Descartes

,who ge ts at Nature

through God,and n o t at God through Nature

,

’ is, as

1 D iderot, vo l. i. p. 1 16, quo ted by Fowler, p. 77.

BACON 49

N i chol says,

1 his View that Nature presents itself to ourunderstand ing, as it were, by a direct ray o f light

,while

God is revealed to us only by a reflected one.’ Wemust not

,however

,press this figure

,as if i t meant that

nature is the image or reflection o f God,so that our

knowledge o f nature will be at the same time a knowledge o f God.

‘ If any man Shall think,by View and

inquiry into these sensible and material things, to attainto any light fo r the revealing o f the nature or will o fGod

,he Shall dangerously abuse himself. It is true that

the contemplation o f the creatures o f God hath fo r end(as to the nature o f the creatures themselves) knowledge,but as to the nature o f God

,n o knowledge

,but wonder ;

which is nothing else but contemplation broken o ff orlosing itself. ’ 2 Even o f the nature o fman we can knownothing . The doctrine concerning the substance o f therational soul must be handed over to religion to bedetermined and defined . Fo r since the substance o fthe soul in its creation was n o t extracted or producedo ut o f the mass o f heaven and earth, but was immediatelyinspired from God ; and since the laws o f heaven andearth are the proper subj ects o f philosophy ; how can

we expect to obtain from philosophy the knowledge o f

the substance o f the rational soul ? It must be drawnfrom the same div ine inspiration

,from which that sub

stance first proceeded .

’ 3

Bacon ’s criterion o f knowledge being sensible verifica

tion,i t follows that the reality or substance o f nothing

-human,cosm ic

,or divin e— is knowable. H is ‘ forms ’

are,after all

,material qualities ; and the investigation o f

these forms is the limit o f human knowledge. Beyondthe sphere o f knowledge

,in all spheres alike

,l ies that o f

faith . The very inadequacy o f scientific knowledgedemonstrates the necessity o f fai th . While Natural

1 Bacon , in Philo sophical Classics ,’ vo l. I I . p . 1 28.

1 Wo rks , iii. 2 18. Cf .Wo rks , iii. 267 The co ntemplatio n o f God’

s

creatures and works produceth (having regard to the work s and creatures

themselves ) knowledge but having regard to God, no perfect knowledge , but wo nder, which is b roken knowledge .

’

3 De Aug. , Bk . iv. ch. iii. , Wo rks , iv . 397, 398.


Philosophy is cortissima superstitionis medicina, i t is at thesame time religionis fidissima ancilla .

’ 1 ‘ It is an assuredtruth and a conclusion o f experien ce

,that a l ittle or

superficial knowledge o f philosophy may incline the mindo f man to atheism , but a further proceeding thereindoth bring the m ind back again to religion ; fo r in theentrance o f philosophy

,when the second causes

,which

are next un to the sen ses,do offer themselves to the

mind o f man,if i t dwell and Stay there

,it may induce

some oblivion o f the highest cause ; but when a manpasseth on farther, and seeth the dependence o f causesand the works o f Prov idence ; then, according to theallegory o f the poets

,he will easily believe that the

highest link o f Nature’s chain must needs be tied to thefoot o f Jupiter’s chair. ’ 2 I f we would attain to thatDivin ity or Inspired Theology which is ‘ the haven andsabbath o f all man ’s con templations

,

’ we must ‘ Stepo ut o f the bark o f human reason and enter into the sh ipo f the Church which is only able by the divi ne compassto rightly direct its course . Neither will the stars o f

philosophy,which have hitherto SO nobly shone upon us

,

any longer supply the ir l ight so that o n th is subject alsoit will be as well to keep si lence . ’ 3 ‘The articles andprinciples o f rel igion are placed and exempted from examination o f reason .

" ‘The “ placets ”o f God are re

moved from question .

’ Although Natural and RevealedTheology

,as the sciences ’

o f God, are placed alongsidePhysics and Metaphysics, as the sciences o f Nature, theformer are not strictly entitled

,he holds

, to the name o f

science. ‘ AS for perfection or completeness in divin ity,

it is not to be sought which makes th is course o f artificialdiv in ity the more suspect. Fo r he that will reduce aknowledge into an art

,will make it round and uniform ;

but in divinity many things must be left abrupt.”j The

1 Nov. Org . , Bk . i. Aph. 89 .

2 Advan cemen t of Learn ing , Bk . i., Wo rks , iii. 267, 268.

3 D e Aug ., Bk . ix . ch. i.

1 Advancemen t qf Learn ing, Bk . II. , Works , iii. 480.5 I bid. , Works , Iii. 484.

BACON 51

dual ism between faith and reason is made as sharp andabsolute as possible. ‘The prerogative o fGod comprehendsthe whole man

,extending to the reason as well as to the

will ; that man may deny himself entirely, and draw nearunto God. Wherefore as we are bound to obey thediv ine law though we find a reluctation in our will, so

are we to bel ieve His word,though we find a reluctation

in o ur reason . For if we believe on ly that which isagreeable to our sense, we give consent to the matterand not to the author

,which is no more than we would

do to a suspected witness . The more d iscordanttherefore and incredible the D IV Ine mystery is, the morehonour is shown to God in bel ieving it, and the nobler isthe victory o f faith .

’ 1

While the roots o f this dualism and agnostic ism aredeep in his theory o f knowledge, we cannot but feelthat the enthusiasm with which Bacon proclaims theduty o f man to submit his reason to the ‘ placets ’

o f

God,as interpreted by the Church

,is due not so much

to his concern fo r the truths o f religion as to his z ealfo r the independence o f scien ce. L imited though its

province is,yet within that province science is to be free

from the bondage o f ecclesiastical authority. H is doctrineo f the dual ism o f faith and reason is part o f Bacon ’s generalprotest against the Scholastic confusion o f theology andphilosophy. He is more interested in assign ing to reasonthe things o f reason than in assigning to faith the thingso f faith . That this is the true interpretation o f hisposition becomes still more C lear when we take accounto f his comparatively slight interest in the ultimate questionso f philosophy

,the intensity o f his interest in scientific

truth,his hostil ity to ‘ Superstition

,

’ more especially thatwhich he found in the Church o f Rome, and his desireto l imi t rather than extend the c iv i l power o f the Church .

Bacon is less concerned fo r the independence o f moralscience

,and qui te content that i t should be but a hand

maid to religion,

’ ‘ admitted into the train o f theology,

1 De Aug , Bk . ix. ch. i.,Wo rks , v. 1 1 1 , 1 12 .


as a wise servant and faithful handmaid to be ready ather beck to min ister to her serv ice and requirements.

’ 1

T he duty o f accepting without question the div inemysteries holds not only in those great mysteries whichconcern the Deity

,the Creation

,and the Redemption ;

but it pertains likewise to a more perfect interpretationo f the moral law

,

’ Since ‘ i t must be confessed that agreat part o f the moral law is higher than the light o f naturecan aspire to .

’ 1 It Was left to Hobbes to complete theBaconian revolt against the Scholastic principle o f authority

,

by extending it to the Sphere o f ethics as well as to thato f metaphysics, and to attempt fo r the first t ime toconstruct an independent philoso phy alike o f nature ando f man .

The impression which Bacon made upon h is contempo raries is that which he Sti ll makes upon ourselves, o f

remarkable versatil i ty combined with an equal ly remarkablegift o f li terary expression—‘

a man so rare in knowledge,

o f so many several kinds,endowed with the facility and

felicity o f expressing it all in so elegant,S ignificant

,so

abundant,and yet so choice and ravish ing ‘a way o f

words,o f metaphors, o f allusions as perhaps the world

hath not seen Since i t was a world .

’ 1 He ‘ fulfilledall numbers

,

’ says Ben Jonson and ‘ Stood as the markand data?) o f our language .’ When we come to theAdvancement of Learning,

’ says Church,

‘ We come to abook which is one o f the landmarks o fwhat high thoughtand rich imagination have made o f the English language.It is the first book in English prose o f secular interest ;the first book which can claim a place beside the Laws

of Ecclesiastical Polity.

"1 The literary Side o f Bacon’sachievement is the more remarkable when we remember

,

on the one hand,his own lack o f faith in the future o f

the language o f Chaucer and Spenser and Shakespeare,

and, on the other, his Strict subordination o f the form tothe matter o f his writing.

‘These modern languages,

’

1 Works , v. 20 .

1 Works , v. 1 1 2 , 1 1 3.

1 SirToby Matthew1 Bacon , in English Men o f Letters ,

’ p. 2 17.


language) may last as long as books last .’ Though they

do not belong to Philosophy in the technical sense,they

contain many philosophical reflections,as their Latin title

indicates,Faithful Discourses

,or the Inwards o f Things. ’

They are the ripe fruit o f Bacon ’s observation o f men ,and o f his own varied experience ; and, as Spedding remarks,he was ‘ deeper read in the phenomena o f the humanbreast than in those o f the material world .

’ 1 The styleo f this famous work is apt at first to disappoint the modernreader. The essays read more l ike notes or memorandaon their subjects than l ike finished discourses. ‘ Nothing,

’

says Church,

can be more loose than the Structure o f theessays. There is no art

,no style

,almost

,except in the

political ones,no order ; thoughts are put down and left

unsupported,unproved

,undeveloped . ’ 1 They are ‘ l ike

chapters in Aristotle’s Ethics andRhetoric on virtues andcharacters. ’ Yet they are full o f memorable sayingswhich have become current coin in the world o f laterculture . The very brevity o f the statement and thesharpness o f antithesis— the absence o f elaboration—lenda piquancy to observations wh ich in themselves areneither strikingly profound nor original. At every turnwe are surprised by some happy analogy, some quaintillustration

,some illum inating allusion, which Springs

from Bacon ’s ‘ incorrigible imaginativeness,

’from the

rare wealth o f a fancy and wit that are classical ratherthan modern in their peculiar quality.

The ethical con tent o f the Essays is apt to disappointus n o less than their Style . They consist mainly o f

maxims fo r the conduct o f l ife ; but these maxims are,fo r the most part

,rules by obeying which a man may

become the ‘ architect o f his fortune ’ or secure h isadvancement in l ife

,they inculcate a prudential rather

than an ideal morality. As Bacon puts i t in anotherplace

,

3 ‘We must strive with all possible endeavour torender the m ind obedient to occasions and opportunities

,

1 Pref. to New Atlantis , Wo rks, iii. 1 22 .

2Bacon , in English Men o f Letters ,

’ p. 2 1 5.

1 De Aug .,Bk . viii. ch. ii., Wo rks , v. 70 , 71 .

BACON 55

and to be noways obstinate and refractory towards them .

Nothing is more politic than to make the wheels o f them ind concentric and voluble with the wheels o f fortune . ’

The great occasions and opportun ities are those offeredby the characters and actions o f our fellow-men ; andhuman nature

,l ike nature itself

,is not conquered except

by obedience. We must therefore Study and watch ourfellows

,with the patience and perseverance o f the Natural

Ph ilosopher,and with the same end in view

,that o f

obtaining power and advan tage,in the o n e case as in the

other. The result is a Machiavell ian policy ‘ whatMachiavelli m eant for princes Bacon transfers to individuals. ’ In the higher teaching o f the ethical books o fthe De Augmentis, however, Bacon insists that we mustnot make use o f ‘ evil arts. ’ ‘Men ought to be so farremoved from devoting themselves to wicked arts o f thisnature, that rather they ought to set before their eyesnot on ly that general map o f the world

,

“ that all thingsare vanity and vexation o f Spirit,

” but also that moreparticular chart

,namely

,

“ that being without well- beingis a curse, and the greater being the greater curse, and“ that all virtue is most rewarded, and all wickednessmost pun ished in The entire tone and spi ri to f the teaching o f this work is o n a d ifferent level fromthat o f the Essays, and it must be remembered that in it,and no t in the Essays, we have Bacon

’s complete statement o f his ethical views. ‘ Men ought so to procureserenity

,as they destroy not magnanim ity.

’ 1 ‘ Seek yefirst the good things o f the mind

,and the rest will either

be supplied,or their loss will not b e felt .’ 3 We hear

again this h igher note,which is not unheard in the Essays

themselves,in the beautiful fragment o f the New Atlantis

,

e tten in the last years o f his life,in wh ich he describes

in language o f tender admiration the life and manners o fthe d istant city o f his dreams

,where they are ‘ in God ’s

bosom,a land unknown .

’

1 Bk . viii. ch. II . , Wo rks , v. 76 .

1 Bk . vii. ch. ii., Wo rks , v. 14.

1 Bk . viii. ch. ii. , Works , v. 78.

CHAPTER II

HOBBES : MATERIALISM AND POLITICAL

PHILOSOPHY

WHILE Hobbes may be regarded,from some points o f

view,as the successor o f Bacon

,he IS

,no less than Bacon

himself,an independent and original thinker. His works

bear no traces o f Bacon ’s influence,and in fundamental

points o f philosophical theory he is directly opposed to theteach ing o f Bacon . The statement o f the chief points o fagreement and difference will bring us at once to thecharacteristic features o f Hobbes’s philosophy.

In the first place,Hobbes is in full agreement with

Bacon as to the practical value o f knowledge ; it isindeed to him, rather than to Bacon , that we owe thedictum that ‘ knowledge is power. ’ ‘The end o f knowledge is power ; and t he use o f theorems (which, amonggeometricians

,serve fo r the finding out o f properties) is

fo r the con struction o f problem s ; and, lastly, the scope o fall speculation is the performance o f some action, or th ingto be done . ’ 1 This practical or util itarian interest in

k nowledge is the dominating motive o f Hobbes’s Wholeenterprise in philosophy. That enterprise embraces theentire field o f human knowledge

,so that he m ight well

have said,with Bacon

,that he had taken all knowledge fo r

his province . But the end to which all else is a means isthat scientific understanding o f the eth ical and pol itical l ifeo f man in which Bacon to o had seen the culmination o f

his scientific ambition,and the practical value o f which

seems to Hobbes least open to question . While the

1 Wo rks , i. 7.

56

HOBBES 57

util ity o f natural philosophy and geometry is measured bythe arts which they make possible and the benefits whichcom e to men through their possession‘

,the uti lity o f

moral and civi l philosophy is to be estimated,not so much

by the commodities we have by knowing these sciencesas by the calamities we receive from no t knowing them.

The greatest o f calam i ties,or rather the cause o f all avoid

able calamity,is war

,and the cause o f war is not perversity

o f will,but in tellectual blindness

,ignorance o f the rules o f

civil l ife,o r o f ‘ those duties which unite and keep men

in peace .’ 1

Hobbes is,l ike Bacon

,a herald o f the new era, he is

fi lled with the new spirit o f Naturalism . For him,as fo r

Bacon,the theological and supernatural world o f the

Scholastic philosophy has lost interest ; nature and man,rather than God

,are the objects o f his inquiry. With

regard to the knowledge o f God he is as frankly agnost icas his predecessor. Curiosi ty

,o r love o f the knowledge

o f causes,draws a man from the consideration o f the

effect,to seek the cause and again

,the cause o f that

cause till o f necessity he must come to this thought atlast

,that there 13 some cause, whereof there is no former

cause,but is eternal ; which Is it men call God . So that

i t is impossible to make any profound inquiry into naturalcauses

,without being inclin ed thereby to bel ieve there is

one God eternal ; though they cannot have any idea o f

him in their minds,an swerable to h is nature. Fo r as a

man that is born bl ind,hearing men talk o f warming

themselves by the fire,and being brought to warm him

self by the same,may easily con ceive

,and assure himself

,

there is somewhat there,which men call fire

,and is the

cause o f the heat he feels ; but cannot imagine what i t islike nor have an idea o f i t in his mind

,such as they have

that see it so also by the v isible things in this world, andtheir admirable order

,a man may conceive there is a cause

o f them, which men call God ; and yet n o t have an idea,or image o f him In his mind .

’ 1

1 Wo rks, i. 8.1 Leviathan , pt. i. ch. xi.


Here,however

,Hobbes’s quarrel with Scholasticism

ends ; i t concerns the subject-matter, not the method, o fthat philosophy. He does not join in Bacon ’s protestagainst the Scholastic habit o f anticipating nature

,o f

deducing facts from theories ; he has no thought o f sub

stituting a sc ien tific induction fo r the deductive rationalism o f Scholastic philosophy. So far as the question of

method is concerned,he is the Oppon ent rather o f Bacon

than o f the Schoolmen ; fo r him science, as such, isrational istic o r deductive

,not empirical and inductive.

Rational insight,not empirical knowledge

,is his scientific

ideal . That ‘ history ’

o f which Bacon had made somuch

,he excludes from philosophy properly so called

,

‘ because such knowledge is but Cxperience,or aut o rity,

and not ratiocination .

’ 1 On the other hand,Hobbes sees

in the method o f geometry which Bacon has so inadequately appreciated the characteristic method o f all trulyscientific knowledge ; and it is, therefore, in his, ratherthan in Bacon ’s

,accoun t o f the method o f science that we

find the formulation o f the actual procedure o f modernScience. In this faith in the method o f mathematicaldemonstration Hobbes also reflects

,far more truly than

Bacon,the spirit o f the century to which both belong

,

that spirit o f which the Ethica o f Spinoz a,more geometrico

demonstrata,is the most important philosophical product.

In that ‘ experience ’ in which Bacon had seen thefoun tain o f all knowledge he sees no true source o f knowledge at all . ‘ Experience co n cludeth nothing universally.

’ 1 ‘They that study natural ph ilosophy study invain

,except they begin at geometry.’ 1

Hobbes accord ingly defines Philosophy as ‘ Such knowledge o f effects or appearances as we acquire by trueratioc ination from the knowledge we have first o f theircauses or gen eration and again, o f such causes or generations as may be from knowing first their effects."1 Hed istinguishes, therefore, two forms o f ratiocination or

1 Wo rk s , i. 10 , 1 1 .

1 Wo rks , iv. 18.

1 Works , i. 73.

1 Wo rks , i. 3.

HOBBES 59

computation .

‘ T o com pute,is either to collect the sum

o f many things that are added together,o r to know what

remains when one thing is taken out o f another. Ratiocinatio n

,therefore

,is the same w ith addition and sub

traction .

’ 1 These two methods are called by .h im thesynthetical and the analytical

,and correspon d to the

deductive and the inductive method respectively. Thesuperiority o f the deductive or synthetic to the inductiveo r analytic method follows from the nature o f demonstratio n

,is resting upon first principles embodied in

definitions. While the particulars o f sense are first fo rus

,the universals are first in nature

,and it is in the

knowledge o f these un iversals that all knowledge o f causesmust ultimately rest .1A definition is explained by Hobbes to be the statement

o f the meaning o f a name or term . A name is ‘ a wordtaken at pleasure to serve for a mark, which may raise inour mind a thought like to some thought we had before,and which being pronounced to others

,may be to them

a S ign o f what thought the speaker had,or had not

before in his mind . ’ 1 From the stress which Hobbeslays upon the importance o f language

,primari ly fo r our

se lves,as securing permanence fo r the results o f previous

thought and,therefore

,economy in the actual process o f

th inking, and more especially from the stress he lays uponthe arbi trariness o f language, i t has been inferred that hedenies

,impl icitly at least

,the obj ective val idity o f scien tific

explanation,and reduces all philosophy to mere verbalism.

But the arbitrariness o f words or names does not implythe arbitrariness or subjectivity o f the system o f propositIo n S o f which they are the elements. The mark o r S ign

,

o nce chosen,is the symbol o f the thing or o f its qualities

and while, as Hobbes insists, in itial agreement as to the

use o f such names is the condition o f in tellectual in tercourse

,the common use o f the accepted symbols does

not preclude those who use them from the apprehensiono f real relations

,or o f things as they are in themselves.

1 Loc. cit. 1 Ct: Works , i. 70 , 81 . 1 Works, i. 16.


While he emphasises the necessity o f sensation as prov id ingthe mind with the materials o f knowledge

,he is equally

clear that knowledge itself is impossible without theconstructive activ ity o f the knowing mind . ‘ Reason isno t, as sense and memory, born with us ; nor gotten byexperience only

,as prudence is but attained by industry.

And whereas sense and memory are but knowledgeo f fact

,which is a thing past and irrevocable ; science is the

knowledge o f consequences, and dependence o f o ne factupon another. ’ 1

A further proof o f the extreme view attributed to Hobbesas to the part played by words in our so-called knowledgeis sometimes found in what Professo r Taylor has called his‘ ultra-nominal ist position in logic . ’ There is no foundation

,however

,fo r such an interpretation o f his position .

We find no denial,explic it o r implicit

,o f the reality o f

the common element which en titles the several indiv idualsto be called by the same name ; on the contrary, thiscommunity o f nature is implied in what he says as to theapplicability o f the name

,and especially in his account o f

the office o f the Copula in the proposit ion . The copulamakes us think o f the cause fo r which those names wereimposed on that thing. AS

,fo r example

,when we say a

body is movable,though we conceive the same thing to be

designed by both these names,yet our mind rests no t there,

but searches farther what i t is to be a body,o r to be

movable, that is, wherein consists the difference betweenthese and other things

,fo rwhich these are so called , others

not so called . They,therefore

,that seek what it is to be

anything, as to be movable, to be ho t, etc ., seek in thingsthe causes o f thei r names.’ 1

It may appear a more fundamental obj ection to Hobbes’saccount o f the first principles o f human knowledge thatdefinition

,o r the clear formulation o f the ultimate principles

alike o f knowledge and o f real i ty,is rather the goal than

the starting-point o f scientific inquiry . But what Hobbesis really describ ing is not so much the actual starting-po int

1 Lev. , pt. i. ch. v.

1 Wo rks, i. 31 .


States o f consciousness, hav ing no existence outside the

m ind itself. ‘ Light and colour, and heat and sound, andother qualities which are commonly called sensible, arenot objects

,but phantasms in the sentients. ’ 1 It follows

that the object o f sense- percept ion is purely subj ective,

and totally unlike the real object,which is the cause o f

the sense-appearance . This real obj ect,or cause o f the

sense-appearance,is in every case motion . All sensible

qualities are, ‘ in the object,that causeth them

,but so

many several motions o f the matter,by which it presseth

o ur organs diversely . Neither in us that are pressed,

are they anything else but d ivers motions : fo r motionproduceth nothing but motion .

’ 1 Hobbes s theory o f

knowledge,or ‘ logic

,

’ as he calls it,thus results in the

acceptance o f motion,or matter in motion

,as the sole

reali ty ; and this becomes the fundamental principle o f

his philosophy,which

,so far as it conforms to his own

ideal o f synthetic or strictly ratioc inative explanation,is

Simply the result o f the application o f the principles o fthe new science o f the time

,the science o f Kepler and

Galileo and Harvey,to the whole o f real ity. Phi lo

sophy or metaphysics is only physical science universal ised.The only real causes are mechanical ; formal and finalcauses are fictions o f the Scholast ic imagination . Wesee the same influence o f the current scientific co ncept ions and methods in the great Continental philosophieso f the period

,those o f Descartes and Spinoz a. The

difference in the case o f Hobbes is that the mechanicaland material istic point o f v iew excludes the opposite, thato f m ind or spirit ; fo r him mind is matter, thought ismotion . Any other interpretation o f real i ty or cause isfo r him simply inconceivable

,because it is not scientific .

‘ The causes o f universal things (o f those, at least, thathave any cause) are manifest o f themselves, or (as theysay commonly) known to nature ; so that they need no

method at all ; fo r they have all but o ne universal cause,which is motion . For though many cannot under

1 Works, i. 39 1 , 392 .1 Lev. , pt. i. oh. i.

HOBBES 63

stand ti l l i t be in some sort demonstrated to them,that all

mutation consists in motion ; yet this happens not fromany obscurity in the thing itself (fo r it is not intelligiblethat an yth ing can depart either from rest

,or from the

motion it has,except by motion), but either by having

their natural discourse corrupted with former opin ionsreceived from their masters

,or else fo r this

,that they

do not at all bend their mind to the enquiring outo f truth .

’ 1

All real ity being conceived as material,Hobbes’s scheme

o f phi losophy falls into two main branches,Natural and

C iv i l Philosophy,dealing respectively with natural and

civi l or artificial bodies. Civ i l Philosophy,again

,consists

o f two parts,Ethics and Pol itics

,the first deal ing with

man as the material o f the State,the second with the

S tate itself. Nature or Body as such,Man— the most

important o f bodies,especially as the nucleus o f the State

,

—and the Citiz en : these are the three great topicsembraced in the universal scheme ; and Hobbes

’s planwas to treat them in three successive works

,De Corporc,

De Homine,and De Cive. The exigencies o f the poli tical

situation,however

,as well as his own really predominating

interest in the ethical and pol itical parts o f the inquiry,

prec ipitated the writing and publication o f the second andthird parts before the completion o f the first and fundamental d iv ision o f his philosophy. It was not till 1 655that the De Corpore was published, while the De Cive

was privately printed in 1 642 , as Elementorum PhilosophiaeSectio Tertia the Human Nature

,published in 1 650 , had

already been written in 1 640 , along with the De CorporePolitico

,and en titled The Elements of Law,

Natural and

Politique and The Leviathan or the M atter,Form

,and

Power of a Commonwealth,Ecclesiastical and Civil

,appeared

in 1 651 . The De Homine,published in 1 658, is the

nominal completion o f the scheme,but is really superfluous

after the Human Nature,and is devoted rather to Physics

than to Psychology .

1 Wo rks , i. 69 , 70 .


It is not a mere accident o f the order in which theworks were composed that the psychological and ethico

political treatises contain rather an independent and empirical account o f the nature o f man and the State thana deduction o f the consequences o f Hobbes’s generalphilosophical principles when applied to the problems o fpsycho log ethics

,and pol itics. Even in the De Corpore

itself he nds i t necessary,when he reaches

,in Part iv .

the subject o f ‘ Physics,o r the Phenomena o f Nature

,

to abandon the synthetic o r deductive method which hehad employed

,more or less consistently

,in the preceding

parts. For the ‘ knowledge o f effects acquired b trueratioc ination ’ he now substitutes the method o f ‘ findingo ut by the appearances or effects o f nature which weknow by sense

,some ways and means by which they may

be,I do not say they are

,generated .

’ 1 It is stil l moreobv ious that

,in the case o f psychology and eth ics, the

immediate bases o f civil o r political philosophy,we must

exchange the synthetic fo r the analytic method,and

Hobbes is n o less explicit in his admissions here. ‘ Thecauses o f the motions o f the mind are known

, no t

only by ratiocination,but also by the experience o f

every man that takes the pains to observe those motionswithin himself. ’ It follows that even those who ‘ havenot learned the first part o f philosophy

,namely

,geometry

and physics,may, notwithstanding, attain the principles o f

civ il philosophy,by the analytical method .

’ 1

Hobbes’s psychology is l imited in its scope and,we

feel,to some extent biassed in its results, by the interest

in which it is undertaken,namely

,

‘ the finding outthe first and most simple elements wherein the compositions o f politic rules and laws are lastly resolved .

’ 1 Itsmain obj ect is to establi sh the opposite v iew o f humannature

,and o f the motives which guide its activ ities

,to

that which Aristotle had held and Grotius had recentlyrestated in his De Jure Belli et P acis. According to thelatter v iew

,man is naturally a social and political being

,

1 Works , i. 873. Works , i. 73.

1 Human Nature, ch. xiii.

HOBBES 65

recogn ising the claims o f others upon him and finding hisown goo d in that o f the community. Against this v iewHobbes contends that man is by nature a mere individual,concerned on ly with his own good, which he is ready todefend against the competing claims o f all other indiv iduals.At the same time there is a great deal o f sound psychological observation

, especially in the Human Nature, which

has li ttle, if any, bearing upon th is underlying polemicalmotive. The fundamental characteristic, al ike o f Natureand o f man

,Hobbes finds to be ‘Endeavour,

’o r the

tendency o f a being to persist in its present condition,either o f rest o r o f motion . Conscious endeavour is eitherappetite fo r that which helps

,or avers ion from that which

hinders,

‘ the v ital motion .

’ The objects which helpvital i ty are called pleasant, those which hinder it, painful.While some appetites and aversions are congenital, allthose whose obj ects are particular things are the product o f experience. In both cases good and ev il aresimply general names for the objects o f desire and aversionrespectively.

‘ Every man,fo r his own part, calleth that

which pleaseth,and is delightful to himself, good ; and

that ev il which displeaseth him : insomuch that whileevery man differeth from another in constitution, theyd iffer also from one another concern ing the commond istinction o f good and evil.’ 1 There is nothing simplyand absolutely so ; nor any common rule o f good and

ev il, to be taken from the nature o f the objects themselves .’ 1The actions o f man are always in the line o f his own

apparent good,or determined by the prevailing appetite o r

desire. In an act o f will Hobbes recognises a furtherimportant element

,that o f deliberation, or the ‘ alternate

succession o f appetite and fear during all the time theaction is in our power to do or no t to do.’ But willitself is only ‘ the last appetite in deliberating.’ 3 Itfollows

,no t only that will is no t specifically different from

an imal appetite,but that no act o f will is free in the sense

1 Human Nature, ch. v11.1 Lev., ch. vi. 1 c ., ch. vi.

E


o f not being determined by necessary causes, or in anysense in which the animal is not equally free.1The extremes to which Hobbes is prepared to carry

his view o f the utter selfishness o f human nature are i l lustrated in his account o f the passions . We may take as

examples the cases o f pity,laughter

,and charity. Pity

is imagination o r fiction o f future calamity to ourselves,proceeding from the sense o f another man ’s calamity.’

‘ The passion o f laughter ’ is ‘ nothing else but suddenglory arising from some sudden conception o f some emin ence in ourselves

,by comparison with the infirmity o f

others,or with our own formerly.’ 2 Even charity, love,

or goodwill is ruthlessly traced to the same selfish source .There can be n o greater argument to a man

,o f his own

power,than to find himself able not only to accomplish

his own desires,but also to assist other men in theirs

and this is that conception wherein consisteth charity.

’ 3

H is own happiness,then

,is the one object o f each

man ’s pursuit . But since ‘ the felici ty o f this life consisteth no t in the repose o f a mind satisfied

,

’ but is ‘ acontinual progress o f the desire from one object to another,the attain ing o f the former being still but the way to thelatter,

’ i t follows that the value which man cannot butput upon the continuance o f his happiness

,that is, o f the

Opportunity o f satisfying his ever new desires in the future,

leads to a further ‘ general inclination o f all mankind, aperpetual and restless desire o f power after power, thatceaseth only in death .

’ The chief cause o f th is restlessness is the insecurity o f our happiness without increase o four powers or opportun ities o f future satisfaction . AndS ince riches

,honour

,and other forms o f power are subj ects

o f competition,the result is contention

,enmity

,and war

because the way o f one competitor to the attain ing o f hisdesire is to kill

,subdue

,supplant

,or repel the other."1

‘ So that in the nature o f man,we find three principal

causes o f quarrel. First, competition ; secondly, diffiden ccth irdly

,glory. The first maketh men invade fo r gain ;

1 Cf:Works , i. 409 .

1 Human Nature, Ch. ix . cf. Lev ., ch . vi,1 Human Nature , ch. ix.

1 Lev., pt. i. ch. xi

HOBBES 67

the second,for safety ; the third, fo r reputation .

Hereby it is man ifest,that during the time men l ive

without a common power to keep them all in awe,they

are in that condition which is called war and such a war,

as is o f every man,against every man . For war consisteth

not in battle only,o r the act o f fighting but in a tract o f

time,wherein the will to contend by battle is sufficiently

known . For as the nature o f foul weather l ieth n o t

in a shower or two o f rain but in an inclination theretoo f many days together : so the nature o f war consistethn o t in actual fighting

,but in the known disposition thereto

,

during all the time there is no assurance to the contrary.

All other time is peace .’ 1 That the ‘ state o f nature ’

is o ne o f universal war is proved,Hobbes contends

,by our

conduct as indiv iduals and as nations. Do we not, whenwe travel

,arm ourselves with weapons o f defence do we

no t lock our doors and chests when we stay at home ?Does no t the man who thus protects himself against h isfellows ‘ as much accuse mankind by his actions

,as I do

by my words ? ’ And are not nations ‘ in the state andposture o f gladiators ; having their weapons pointing, andtheir eyes fixed on one another ; that is, their forts,garrisons

,and guns upon the frontiers o f their kingdoms ;

and continual spies upon their neighbours ; which is aposture o f war ? ’ 1

In this ‘ State o f nature ’ there is n o distinctionbetween justice and injustice ; might is the only ruleo f right. To this war o f every man

,against every man,

this also is consequent ; that nothing can be unjust.The notions o f right and wrong

,justice and injustice

,

have there no place. Where there is no common power,there is no law : where n o law

,no injustice. Force,

and fraud,are in war the two cardinal v irtues.

It is consequent also to the same condition,that there

can be no propriety,no dom in ion

,no mine and thine

distinct ; but only that to be every man’s,that he can

get ; and fo r so long, as he can keep it.’ 1 The in to ler

1 Lev. pt. i. ch. xiii. 1 Loc. cit. 1 Loc. cit.


able misery o f such a condition is graphically described.Whatsoever therefore is consequent to a time o f war

,

where every man is enemy to every man ; the same isconsequent to the time

,wherein men live without other

security,than what their own strength

,and their own

invention shall furn ish them withal . In such condition,

there is no place fo r industry ; because the fruit thereofis uncertain : and consequently no culture o f the earth ;no nav igation

,nor use o f the commodities that may be

imported by sea ; no commodious build ing ; no instruments o f moving

,and remov ing

,such things as require

much force ; no knowledge o f the face o f the earth ;no account o f time ; no arts ; no letters ; no society ;and which is worst o f all

,continual fear

,and danger

o f violent death ; and the l ife o f man solitary,poor

,

nasty,brutish

,and short.” The contrast is more

succinctly stated in another work.

‘ The natural statehath the same proportion to the civ i l (I mean, liberty tosubj ection), which passion hath to reason, o r a beast toa man .

’ 1 ‘ Justice and charity,the twin sisters o f

peace,

’ and all the other v irtues,are the fruit o f that

settled order fo r which man is compelled,if he would

l ive at all,to exchange his natural right to all things.

The deliverance from this state o f nature,

’ the meanso f transition from war to peace

,is found partly in the

passions or natural d ispositions o f man,partly in his

reason .

‘ The passions that incl ine men to peace,are

fear o f death ; desire o f such things as are necessary tocommodious l iv ing ; and a hope by their industry toobtain them .

’ And ‘ reason suggesteth convenien tarticles o f peace

,upon which men may be drawn to

agreement. ’ 1 These articles o f peace are those ‘ Lawso f Nature by which a man is forbidden to do that whichis destructive o f his l ife

,or taketh away the means o f

preserving the same ; and to omit that, by which hethinketh it may be best preserved."1 They are im

mutable and eternal, since ‘ it can never be that war1 Lev., pt. i. ch. xiii. 1 Wo rks, 11. 1 07.

1 Lev., pt. i. ch. xiii. 1 1bid. , pt. i. ch. xiv.

70 ENGL1SH PHILOSOPHERS

that may reduce all their wills,by plural i ty o f voices,

unto o ne will which is as much as to say, to appoin t o n eman, or assembly o f men, to bear their perso n . Thisis more than consent

,or concord ; i t is a real un ity o f

them all,in o ne and the same person

,made by covenan t

o f every man with every man,in such manner

,as if every

man should say to every man,

“ I authorise and giveup my right o f governing myself

,to this man

,or to this

assembly o f men,on this condition

,that thou give up thy

right to him,and authorise all h is actions in like manner.”

This done,the multitude so united in one person

,is

called a commonwealth .

’ A commonwealth may therefore be defined as ‘

o ne person,o f whose acts a great

multitude,by mutual covenants o ne with another, have

made themselves the author,to the end he may use the

strength and means o f them all,as he shall think ex

pedien t, fo r their peace and common defence.’ 1 This

common or representative person,whether a man o r an

assembly, is sovereign ; and the power o f the sovereignis,by its very nature

,absolute and inal ienable . The

sovereign cannot be deposed the subjects cannot transfertheir person from him that beareth it

,to another man

,

o r other assembly o f men .

’

Nor can the sovereign powerbe forfeited by breach o f contract ; fo r the covenant towhich it owes its existence is only between the subjects

,

not between the subjects and the sovereign,and covenan ts

are bind ing only by the compulsion o f the sovereignpower itself. Finally

,the sovereign power is o ne and

ind ivisible : a divided sovereignty,as,fo r example, between

King and Parliament,is a contradiction In terms.

The central feature o f this theory o f the State, theso -called ‘ social contract

,

’has been constantly misunder

stood, as implying that the State owes its historical origin

to such a contract . I t is quite clear that what Hobbesis really giv ing is a logical analysis o f the implications orpresuppositions

,no t a historical accoun t o f the genesis,

o f the State and political obligation . He distinguishes,

1 Lev., pt. i. ch.

HOBBES 71

moreover, between two modes in which the sovere ign

power and, w ith it, the commo nwealth itself, may be

es tablished,namely, by ‘ institution and by ‘ acquisi

tion ’

; and he calls the latter the ‘ natural ’ form o f

political so ciety. This type o f State is exemplified n o t

only in all cases o f dominion by conquest,but also in

the family and in the relation o f master and servant. In

calling this kind o f society natural,as Croom Ro bertso n

remarks,

‘ he not obscurely suggests that the institutiveis first only in the logical

,n o t the historical

,order.

The State o f nature,if it ever actually existed

,must have

been put an end to by the superior might o f some menrather than by the del iberate consent o f all ; but howcould it ever have existed in fact

,when there never was a

time that there were no mas ters,or at least fathers ? ’ 1 I t

has often been asked, How could the original contractever have taken place

,see ing that the parties to it must

have known that it was not binding in the state o f naturefrom which it was yet the only deliverance ? If

,however

,

we think o f i t as the logical presupposition o f the State,

such a question becomes unmeaning.To understand the theory

,i t is necessary to take

account o f the pol itical c ircumstances out o f which itarose

,and which explain the practical

,as well as the

theoretical,interest o f the argument fo r Hobbes himself.

He speaks o f ‘ my discourse o f Civil and EcclesiasticalGovernment ’ as ‘ occasioned by the disorders o f thepresent time

,

’ and in the Preface to the PhilosophicalRudiments concerning Governments and Society he thus explains the appearance o f this treatise before the first andsecond parts o f his system :

‘Whilst I contrive, order,pensively and slowly compose these matters i t sohappened in the interim

,that my country

,some few

years before the civ i l wars did rage,was boiling ho t with

questions concerning the rights o f dominion and theobedience due from subj ects

,the true forerunners o f an

approaching war ; and was the cause which, all those

1 Hobbes , in Philo so phical Classics ,’ pp. 145- 6.


other matters deferred,ripened and plucked from me this

third part. Yet I have not made it out o f a desire o f

praise but for your sakes,readers

,who I persuaded

myself,when you should rightly apprehend and thoroughly

understand this doctrine I here present you with,would

rather choose to brook with patience some inconveniencesunder government (because human affairs cannot possiblybe without some), than self-opin ionatedly to disturb thequiet o f the public . ’ 1 The question raised by the civ ilwar and the revolution is, in the eyes o f Hobbes, the sameas that which had chiefly perplexed the Statesmanship o f

Bacon,the question o f the seat o f sovereignty in the

English State and Hobbes agrees with Bacon in holdingnot only that sovereignty cannot be divided between Kingand Parliament

,but that its seat is in the Monarch .

What was fo r Bacon merely a problem o f practical Statesmanship seemed to Hobbes

,who had neither the responsi

bility nor the opportunity o f the statesman , a problem o f

which the only satisfactory solution could be found in atheory o f the essential nature o f sovereignty and o f thefunctions and rights o f the sovereign . In the fate o f thesovereign was involved the fate o f the State itself ; theattack upon the sovereign was in reali ty an attack uponthe State. Hobbes professes to be ind ifferent to the alternatives o f monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy. Butwhether the sovereignty be vested in o ne man or in an

assembly,large or small, it must reside in a single authority,

i t must not be div ided between King and Parliament : amixed monarchy is a radically unsound form o f poli ticalconstitution . And i t is sti ll more evident to him that arevolution

,as such

,means the dissolution o f the State, the

substitution o f anarchy fo r the settled order o f polit icalexIstence .

What Hobbes is concerned, therefore, above all th ings toestablish is the absoluteness and legal irresponsibility o f thesovereign power in the State. But since he is conv incedthat

,in defending the sovereign

,he is defending the pre

1 Wo rks , II . pp. xx - xxn.

HOBBES 73

supposition o f the very existence o f the S tate, he finds i tnecessary to raise the previous question o f the value o f

the State itself to man as an indiv idual. And in spite o f

the phrase ‘ State o f nature,’ which has unfortunately

drawn the attention o f his critics away from the centralpoint o f his answer to this question

,there can be no doubt

that his main purpose was to Show how deeply naturalthe State is

,how i t is nature’s (or reason

’s) own way o f

deliverance from the untold misery o f unpolitical existenceor anarchy. The end which, in his judgment, justifiesthe State and

,therefore

,absolute sovereignty, is the

common goo d . It is better,incomparably better, fo r the

individual to render unquestion ing obedience to thesovereign power

,and thus to secure all the bless ings o f

l ife in an ordered society,than to purchase liberty at the

price o f anarchy. IAS Professor Taylor points out, whathe is defending is no t the doctrine o f the ‘ div ine right ’

o f the monarch : h is v iew is thoroughly democratic, andit was with a true insight that the later Utilitarians recognised its essential identity with their own .

‘ThoughHobbes’s argument amounts to a defence o f absolutism,the defence is throughout based on rational istic and, co nsequently

,democratic grounds There is much more

commun i ty o f spirit between obbes and Locke or S idney,o r even Ro usseau

,than between Hobbes and Filmer.’ 1

There was ever present to the mind o f Hobbes a secondand quite d ifferent menace to the integrity o f the State,the rival claim o f the Church to dominion over the indiv idual ; and though he makes no discrimination betweenthe churches

,Roman

,Anglican

,or Presbyterian, so far

as this claim is concerned,it is clearly the power o f the

Papacy that he chiefly fears. The Church o f Rome,as such, claims to override the allegiance o f the subjectto h is earthly sovere ign ; it would set up ‘ supremacyagainst sovereignty ; canons against laws ; and a ghostlyauthority against the civ il .’ Against the political andtemporal sanctions o f conduct, i t brings to bear upon man

1 Hobbes , in Constab le’

s Philo sophies Ancient andModern,’ pp. 9 1- 2.


the supernatural and eternal sanctions o f rel igion . Byplaying upon that ‘ superstitious fear o f Spirits,

’ that fearo f things inv isible

,

’ which is the natural seed o f religionand o f superstition alike

,it has succeeded in establish ing

itself in the place o f the Roman empire, and threatensman with a more ignoble bondage. ‘ If a man considerthe original o f th is great ecclesiastical dominion, he willeasily perceive

,that the Papacy is no other than the

ghost o f the deceased Roman empire,sitting crowned

upon the grave thereof. For so did the Papacy start upo n a sudden o ut o f the ruins o f that heathen power. ’ 1 Theacceptance o f this claim means either a dualism betweenthe temporal and the Spiritual power which negates thesovereignty o f the S tate

,o r the absorption o f the S tate

in the Church,which contrad icts no less v iolently the

idea o f the S tate. Hobbes’s solution o f the problem is

to reverse the subordination,and to make the Church

the servant o f the S tate . It is to the State,he holds, that

we owe the fundamental d istinction between true rel igionand vain supersti tion it is from the State

,therefore, that

the Church derives her authority.

‘ Religion is notphilosophy

,but law.

’ We know nothing,as we have

seen,about God and the supernatural in these questions,

as much as in questions o f ordinary conduct, we mustbe guided by the authority o f the S tate. The only wayto save the integrity o f the State is to absorb the Churchin it

,and thus make the latter the organ and instrument

o f the former. Church and State are a single society,‘ which is called a civ il State

,fo r that the subj ects o f i t

are men,and a Church

,fo r that the subjects thereof are

Christians. ’

In Spite o f the democratic purpose which really inspireshis political theory

,the outcome o f Hobbes’s speculations

is thus seen to be the justification o f the complete subjectio n o f the indiv idual to the State

,the v ind ication

o f a practically unqualified political despotism . Theessentially true doctrine o f sovereignty becomes, in his

Lev. p t. iv. ch. xl I.

HOBBES 75

hands,the false and pern icious doctrine that the despotic

type o f government is the true and on ly possible constitutio n o f the State . This disappointing result is duepartly to the political circumstances which were theoccasion o f the whole inquiry

,partly to fundamental

defects in Hobbes’s own philosophy . So far as the firsto f these causes is concerned

,i t is only fair to Hobbes

to remember that to him the only alternatives couldhardly fai l to appear to be despotism and anarchy. Itwould be unreasonable to expect him to have foreseenthe actual solution o f the problem o f sovereignty in aconstitutional monarchy

,in a more truly democratic and

representative form o f government in which the seato f sovereignty is found rather in Parliament than in theKing. A theory more nearly answering to these factso f the growing political l ife o f England we shall find inthe important development and revision o f the ‘ SocialContract ’ theory o f the State which we owe to LockeThe deeper explanation o f the inadequacies o f Hobbes

’spoli tical theory is to be found in h is egoistic View o f

human nature. If we are to derive the State from humannature

,as we must

,i t must be from such a nature as

Aristotle or Grotius ascribed to man,rational in a deeper

sense than Hobbes adm i ts,and social in a sense which

he denies. An indiv idual who cannot recognise acommon good

,o r any good at all except his own preser

vation ’ and ‘ delectation,

’ can never be a ci tiz en ; suchindividuals are incapable o f any real ‘ social contract . ’ Itwas reserved fo r Rousseau to develop the fuller truth o f

“

a pol itical theory which, in its author’s hands

,remained

inev itably incomplete and misleading.

Even in Hobbes’s own statement o f it,however

,there

are suggestions o f this later development . Insistent as he isupon the absoluteness and irresponsibili ty o f the sovereignpower

,he recognises the existence o f certain limits to its

legitimate exercise. The essential lim i t is found in theend fo r the realisation o f which the State exists

,namely

,

the preservation o f the l ife o f the individual. ‘ I f the

so vere ign command a man, though justly condemned, to


kill,wound

,o rmaim himself ; o r not to resist those that

assault him ; or to abstain from the use o f food, air,medicine

,or any other thing

,without which he cannot

live ; yet hath that man the liberty to d isobey. When,therefore, our refusal to obey frustrates the end fo rwhichthe sovereignty was ordained then there is no l iberty torefuse : otherwise there is .

’ 1 S imilarly,he argues, the

val id ity o f the commands o f the sovereign is conditionedby his abil ity to discharge the office o f sovereign, that is,to protect his subj ects. ‘The obligation o f subj ects tothe sovereign is understood to last as long

,and no longer

,

than the power lasteth,by which he is able to protect

them . For the right men have by nature to protectthemselves

,when none else can protect them,

can by nocovenant be relinquished . The sovereignty is the soul o fthe commonwealth which once departed from the body,the members do no more receive their motion from it.The end o f obedience is protection which, wheresoevera man seeth it

,either in his own

,or in another’s sword,

nature applieth his obedience to it, and his endeavour tomaintain it . ’ 1 And though

,in the Leviathan

,he speaks o f

the ‘ office,

’ rather than o f the ‘ duty ’

o f the sovereign,even in that treatise he recogn ises that the sovereign isresponsible to God

,if not to his subjects

,and in the De

Corpore Politico he says that the duty o f a sovereign consisteth in the good government o f the people. Andalthough the acts o f sovereign power be no injuries to thesub

'

ects who have consented to the same by their implic itwills

,yet when they tend to the hurt o f the people in

general,they be breaches o f the law o f nature

,and o f the

d iv ine law ; and consequently, the contrary acts are theduties o f sovereigns

,and required at their hands to the

utmost o f their endeavour,by God Almighty, under the

pain o f eternal death .

’ 3

Whatever may be the merits or the demerits o f thephilosophy o f Hobbes

,there can be only one Opin ion as to

1 Lev., pt. iv. ch. xxi. 1 Works, 11 . 178.

3 Works , iv. 2 13. Cf. Works , iv. 2 1 3, 2 14.


desire o f praise which is bred in human nature, is to themwho excel in such- like faculties

,and seem to themselves

to exceed others,the most del ightful o f all th ings. But

in a monarchy,this same way to obtain praise and honour

is shut up to the greatest part o f subjects ; and what is a

grievance if this be none ? I will tell you : to see hisopinion, whom we scorn, preferred before ours ; to haveour wisdom undervalued before our own faces ; by anuncertain trial o f a l ittle vain glory

,to undergo most

certain enmities (fo r this cannot be avoided, whether wehave the better or the worse) to hate and to be hated

,by

reason o f the disagreement o f opinions ; to lay open oursecret councils and advices to all

,to no purpose and with

out any benefit ; to neglect the affairs o f our own fam i lythese

,I say, are grievances. But to be absent from a

trial o f wits,although those trials are pleasant to the

eloquent,is not therefore a grievance to them ; unless

we will say, that it is a grievance to valiant men to berestrained from fighting

,because they delight in it. ’ 1

The other passage is a brief paragraph which,accord

ing to Professor Sorley,

‘ may be taken as having Startedthe l ine o f thought which issued in the theory o f association

,fo r a long time dominant in English psychology ’ 1

‘ And yet in this wild ranging o f the mind, a manmay o ft-times perceive the way o f i t, and the dependenceo f one thought upon another . For in a discourse o f ourpresent civ il war, what could seem more impertinent, thanto ask (as one did) what was the value o f a Roman pennyyet the coherence to me was manifest enough . For thethought o f the war introduced the thought o f the delivering up the king to his enemies ; the thought o f thatbrought in the thought o f the delivering up o f Christ ;and that again the thought o f the thirty pence, whichwas the price o f that treason and thence easily followedthat malic ious question ; and all this in a moment o ftime fo r thought is quick .

’ 1

1 Wo rks , 11 . 136.

Cambridge History of English Literature, vo l. VII . ch. x11.1 Lev ., pt. i. ch. iii.

CHAPTER III

THE IDEALISTIC REACTION : CAMBRIDGE

PLATONISM AND RATIONALISM

IT was inevitable that the radical speculation o f Hobbes,

alike in the spheres o f metaphysics and o f po l i tics,Should

provoke a reaction, and should rally to the defence o f thehigher Spiritual interests o f human life those to whomthese interests seemed to be bound up with a spiritualinterpretation o f the universe and a social interpretationo f human nature. Hobbes had indeed professed to be adefender o f the Christian faith but it was l ittle wonderthat this new Epicurism should seem to rel igious th inkersbut atheism under a mask

,

’ and that the unmasking o f

this hidden and,therefore

,all the more dangerous

,atheism

Should seem the appointed task o f the devout thinker.The fundamental error o f Hobbes

,as well as o f Bacon

,

seemed to such men to be the absolute d istinction andseparation o f the Spheres o f faith and reason

,o f theology

and philosophy. Such a separation meant the ultimatedenial o f the reasonableness o f rel igion

,the obl iteration

o f the distinction between rel igion and supersti tion . Theaim o f the Cambridge Platonists was the reun ion o f thesetwo Spheres

,the vindication o f the rational character o f

rel igion .

Apart,however

,from the polemical motive supplied by

the effort to refute the v iews o f Hobbes,these thinkers

,

who were all Churchmen as well as academic teachers,

were conscious o f another danger to religion within theChurch itself. It is a notable fact that

,with the excep

tion o f More, the leading members o f the school weretrained in Emmanuel College, the great Puritan founda

79


tion ; and they were inspired by the common ideal o femancipation from the narrowness and intolerance o f

Puritan dogmatism,they revolted with one consent

against the subj ection o f reason to faith which wasdemanded by the Protestant no less really than by theCathol ic theology. From Puritan dogmatism and in to lerance

,n o less than from Prelatical formal ism,

they appealedto l ife and conduct as the true measure o f religion . Theyare among the earliest defenders o f the principle o f toleration . Subordinating doctrine to life

, and regarding thegreater part o f the doctrine o f the Protestant Confessionsas mere matter o f Opinion

,they came to be known as the

Latitudinarians,

’ and were eyed askan ce by the orthodoxo f both theological parties. Their constant effort was toextricate the essential truth o f Christianity from theaccidents which had gathered round it in the course o f

the centuries,and this essential core o f truth was, in

their eyes,identical with goodness o f life and, therefore,

accessible to all rational beings. If they did not denythe distinction between natural and revealed truth

,the

burden o f their teaching was that all essential truth cameto men by ‘ the light o f nature

,

’ that ‘ the Spiri t o f aMan is the Candle o f the Lord

,l ighted by God

,and l ight

ing us to God.

’ 1

Sti ll another influence must be mentioned as determin

ing the spirit and attitude o f the Cambridge Platonists,namely

,that o f Descartes. This influence is primarily

negative. Ignoring the spir itual side o f the Cartesianphilosophy, they are repelled by its dualism o f thoughtand extension

,its separation o f the Spheres o f matter and

mind,and its authentication o f the mechanical method

and point o f v iew so far as the material world is concerned. In its exclusion o f the action o f spiri t from thelatter sphere

,and in its substitution o f mechanical fo r

final causes,they see the same menace to the interests

o f a Spiritual or idealistic interpretation o f reali ty asthey discover in the materialism o f Hobbes. The Car

1 Whichco te , Apho risms , Campagnac’

s Cambridge Platon is ts , p. 70 .

THE IDEALISTIC REACTION 81

tesian s,says Cudworth

,have an undiscerned tang o f the

mechan ic Atheism hanging about them .

’ In oppositionto both Hobbes and Descartes

,therefore

,the Cambridge

idealists proclaim the Spiritual constitution o f the so -calledmaterial world . No t only are there

,as Descartes adm it ted

,

spiritual as well as material substances,but spiritual sub

stance alone truly is. Matter,truly understood

,is Spiri t.

Only from the spiritual constitution o f the universe can adiv ine or un iversal Spiri t be inferred. On the other hand

,

there can be n o doubt that the Cambridge Platonists wereinfluenced positively

,as well as negatively

,by the Car

tesian philosophy,o f which More especially was in his

youth an enthusiastic adm irer . The great questionswith which they are concerned are the same as thosewhich had preoccupied Descartes—the existence o f Godand the relation o f matter to Spirit. And their aim is thesame as his—to Show the rational basis o f faith, to reduceits content to clear and distinct ideas.’ 1

While the only names that have become widely knownare those o f Cudworth and More

,three other names are

to o important to be altogether overlooked . The movement owes its origin to the remarkable influence

,as a

teacher and preacher,if not as a writer

, o f Benjam inWhichco te, an influence which was extended by thesimilar activ it ies o f John Smith and Nathaniel Culverwel

,

although the latter,according to Professor Sorley

,

‘ canhardly be counted as belonging to the group. ’ It is to thetreatises o f Ralph Cudworth on The True Intellectual

System of the Universe and on Eternal and Immutable

M orality that we must look fo r a systematic accounto f the philosophy o f the school . Henry More, whosechief philosophical work is the Encheiridion Ethicum

,

‘re

presents,

’

as Tulloch says,more than any other member

o f the school,the mystical and theosophic side o f the

Cambridge movement. ’ 1 He is n o t the least interesting

1 Cf . Tullo ch, Rational Theology in England in the S even teen th

Century , ii. 1 7- 20 .

1 Ency . Brit. , gth cd., art. Henry Mo re .

’


o r impo rtant in a group o f singularly impressive andinfluential personalities.I f i t was in More that the mystical tendency reached itsculm ination

,i t is not to be denied that such a tendency

was present in the movement from the first . In its otherrepresentative members

,however

,this tendency was kept

well subordinated to the rational ism which was even morecharacteristic o f the movement as a whole. It is truethat none o f the so -called Cambridge Platonists clearlydistinguished between the original teaching o f Platohimself and that o f the Neo -Platonists. AS Tulloch says

,

‘The suspicion that Plot inus and Proclus, while buildingupon the Platonic basis

,may have had little or none o f the

Spiri t o f the master-builder,never disturbed them . Plato

nism was to them a vast mass o f transcendental Thought,

dating from Pythagoras and even Moses, and stretchingdownwards through Alexandrian and medie val Jewishschools ; and it was this Platonism o f tradition— o f thesuccessive Spiritualistic schools which had contended fo ra super-sensual philosophy

,and peopled the world o f faith

with many fantastic reveries—which ruled their spiritsand insp ired their philosophic ambit ion . In this sensealone can they be called Platon ists.’ 1 On the other hand

,

it is an exaggeration to say, with Coleridge, that they were‘ more truly Plotin ists ’ than Platonists

,

2 or to attributeto them ‘ a corrupt

,mystical

,theurgical

,pseudo-Plato

n ism,which infected the rarest minds under the Stuart

dynasty.

’ 1 It is true that they Shared many o f the superstitio us ideas o f their age

,and that their attitude to earl ier

thinkers was uncri tical ; that, in Tullo ch’

s words,

‘ theyleant to o fondly o n the past

,and made too much o f

ancient wisdom .

" 1 But the main lines o f their thoughtare clearly derived from Plato h imself

,and from such

dialectical dialogues as the Theaetetus and the Parmenides

hardly less than from the more poetical and mystical d ialogues. In Cudworth this return to the original and moredialect ical teaching o f Plato is especial ly characteristic .1 Rational Theology , 11. 481 .

1 Notes on English Divines , i. 351 .1 I bid. , i. 130 .

1 Rational Theology , ii. 1 37.


Their undue dependence upon the past shows its ev ilinfluence not less in the style o r manner than in thematter o f their writing. Their style is scholastic andpedantic to a degree almost intolerable to the modernreader. The quotations with which they fill their pagesfatally interrupt the continuity o f the argument

,and

would be intolerable even as foot-notes in a book o f thepresent day. It is as if they had n o t really mastered andassimilated the thought o f the past to which they are soanxious to serve themselves heirs. They seem to feel i tnecessary to dress out their own ideas in the borrowedfeathers o f illustrious names afraid to trust to the inherentweight o f their argument

,they seek some more sure

support fo r i t in the wisdom o f the ancients. ‘Theycrowd their books with Specimens o f all the intellectualfurniture which they have gathered in the course o f theirStudies .

’ 1 It is a remarkable testimony to the real powero f their thinking

,as well as to their real gift o f expression,

that in Spite o f these defects their writings are studdedwith so many fine and memorable sayings which themselves bear well the ordeal o f quotation . O f the foundero f the school Westcott says

,There are few prose

writers o f any time from whom one could gather more“ j ewels five-words long than from Whichco te .

’ 1

The philosophy o f the Cambridge Platonists centres inthree main positions ( 1 ) the unity o f faith and reason, o freligion and life ; ( 2 ) the Spiritual constitution o f theuniverse ; and (3) the reasonableness, as opposed to thearbitrariness o f morali ty

,its foundation in reason rather

than in mere will,and hence its absolute

,as opposed to

i ts merely relative validity.

( I ) The essential identity o f the content o ffaith w i th thato f reason is a favourite topic with all the writers o f thisschool it is indeed the Starting-poin t o f their entire intellectual effort ‘Truth is the Soul ’s Health and Strength

,

natural and true Perfection . No sooner doth the1 Tulloch, Rational Theology , 11 . 477.

1 Religious Thought in the West, p. 371 .


Truth o f God come to our Soul’s S ight,but our Soul

knows her,as her first and o ld Acquaintance : which,

though they have been by some Accident unhappily parteda great while ; yet hav ing now, through the Div ineProv idence

,happily met

,they greet one another

, and

renew their Acquaintance, as those that were first andancient Friends .’ 1 That which is the Height and Excellency o f Humane Nature, viz . our Reason, is n o t laid asidenor discharged

,much less is i t confounded by any o f

the Materials o f Rel igion ; but awakened, excited, employed, directed, and improved by it.

’ ‘ In all things o f

weight,in the great Points o f Consc ience

,in the great

Materials o f Religion,there is a Reason in the Things

,

that doth enforce them ,and enjoin them upon us

,and

requi re them o f us .’ ‘This is the peculiarity o f HumaneNature

,that through the Reason o f his Mind

,he may

come to understand the Reason o f Things and this is thatyo u are to do ; and there is no coming to Religion butthis way.

’ 1 Very S imilar is the language o f Sm i th in thediscourse on The Excellency and Nobleness of True Religion .

‘ I t’

s a fond imagination that Religion Should extinguishReason ; whenas Religion makes it more illustrious andvigorous ; and they that l ive most in the exercise o f

Religion, shall find their Reason most enlarged.

’

Un

reasonableness or the smothering and extinguishing the

Candle o f the Lord within us is no piece o f Religion,nor

advantageous to it that certainly will n o t raise men upto God

,which sinks them below men .

’

The intimate connection o f such rel igious insight orknowledge with l ife and conduct is no less emphaticallyasserted . ‘True piety and a Godlike pattern o f purity ’

is the best way to thrive in all spiritual understandinga holy life is the best and most compendious way to ar ight belief. ’ ‘ If we would indeed have our Knowledgethrive and flourish we must water the tender plants o fit with Holiness. The reason why

,notwithstanding

all our acute reasons and subti le disputes, Truth prevails1 Whichco te , Evidence of D ivine Truth, Campagnac , 3, 4.

2 Whichco te, Warh of Reas on , Campagnac, 51 , 53.


o f a superior Nature. Moreover, that which judges thatthe Appearances o fall the Senses have somethingFan tastical

in them,cannot possibly be itself Fantastical

,but it must

be something which hath a Power o f judging what Reallyand Absolutely is or is not. This being not a Relative,but an Absolute Truth, that Sensible Appearances havesomething Fantastical in them .

’ 1 ‘Wherefore thoughMen are commonly said to know things when they see andfeel them

,yet in truth by their bodily Senses they perceive

nothing but their Outsides and External Induments. Justas when a Man looking down out o f a Window into theStreets

,is said to see Men walking in the Streets

,when

indeed he perceives nothing but Hats and Cloaths, underwhich

,fo r ought he knows, there may be De dalean

Statues mov ing up and down .

’ 1 By its very naturesense can reveal to the percipient only appearance

,or the

phantastical and relative.’

Reality,as distinguished from appearance, is constituted

by those intell igible forms or ideas which are the expression o f the rational constitution o f the knowing m indi tself. Knowledge is not a Passion from anything withoutthe Mind

,but an Active Exertion o f the Inward Strength

,

V igour and Power o f the Mind, displaying i t self fromwithin and the Intell igible Forms by which Things areUnderstood or Known , are not Stamps or Impressionspassively printed upon the Soul from without, but Ideasvi tally protended or actively exerted from with in it Self. AThing which IS merely Passive from without, and doth onlyreceive Foreign and Adventitious Forms, cannot possiblyKnow

,Understand or Judge o f that which it receives

,

but must needs be a Stranger to it, having nothing withinit self to know it by. The Mind cannot know any th ing

,

but by something o f its own,that is Native, Domestic

and Familiar to it .’ 3 Thus it is to the knowing intellectthat we owe the apprehension o f the unity o f the parts ina total object intellect alone can ‘ comprehend the FormalReason o f It, as a Whole made up o f several Parts, according

1 Eternal and Immutable Morality , Bk . 11. ch. vi. Bk . iii. ch. iv.

1 lbi .d , Bk . iii. ch. iii. 1 I bid. , Bk . iv. ch. i.


to several Relations and Proportions contributing thereto.’

The idea o f this whole was never stamped or impressedupon the Soul from without

,but upon occasion o f the

Sensible Idea was excited and exerted from the inwardActive and Comprehensive Power o f the Intellect itself. ’ 1

It follows that the Mind or Intellect may well be called(though in another Sense than Protagoras meant it) TheM easure of all Things.

’ 1

From the rational constitution o f knowledge Cudworthinfers the existence first o f the rational self and, secondly,o f God . For tho’ i t should be supposed that our Sensesdid deceive us in all their Representations, and that therewere no Sun

,n o Moon

,n o Earth , that we had n o

Hands,n o Feet, no Body, as by Sense we seem to have,

yet Reason tells us that o f Necessity That must be something, to whom these things seem to be, because nothingcan Seem to that that is not. ’ 1 On the other hand

,the

constancy o f the existence o f things,independen t o f their

being actually ideas in ‘ our part icular created m inds,

’ theeternity and immutabil i ty o f real existence

,implies a

d iv ine Mind or un iversal Intell igence. Geometrical truthdoes n o t depend fo r its reality upon the apprehension o f

the geometric ian,or change with his advancing know

ledge . It follows that ‘ there is an Eternal Wisdom andKnowledge in the World

,necessarily existing

,which was

never made,and can never cease to be or be destroyed ;

or, which is all one, that there is an Infinite, Eternal Mindnecessari ly existing

,that actually comprehends himself

,

the Possibility o f all Things,and the Verities C linging to

them . In a word,that there is a God

,o r an Omnipotent

and Omniscient Being,necessarily existing, who therefore

cannot destroy his own Being or Nature, that is, hisInfinite Power and Wisdom .

’ 1

(3) The real interest o f the metaphysical argumen t l ies,fo r these thinkers

,in its ethical and religious consequences.

They find in reason the only secure basis fo r the absolute1 Eternal and Immutable Morality , Bk . iv. ch. 11.

1 I hid , Bk . iv. ch. i. 1 Bk . ii. ch. vi. 1 I bid., Bk . iv. ch. iv.


obl igatoriness o f moral i ty : i t is not mere law, the

expression o f arbitrary will,but the expression o f the

nature o f things,o f the rational constitution o f the un i

verse. No t even the div ine Will is fo r them the ultimatesource o f moral laws ; the div ine Will is guided by thedivine Reaso n

,o r by regard to the essential nature o f

things. This ethical deduction,which is only briefly

suggested by Cudwo rth,receives the Chief emphasis in

Whichco te ’

s discourses. Moral truths,he says

,

‘ have adeeper Foundation

,greater Ground fo r them,

than thatGod gave the Law on Mount S inai or that he did afteringrave it o n Tables o f Stone ; o r that we find the TenCommandments in the Bible. For God made Man to

them,and did write them upon the Heart o f Man

,before

he did declare them upon Mount Sinai,before he ingraved

them upon the Tables o f Stone,or before they were writ

in our Bibles ; Godmade man to them,and wrought His

Law upon Men’s Hearts ; and, as it were, interwove itinto the Principles o f our Reason and the things thereofare the very Sense o f Man ’s Soul

,and the Image o f his

Mind : so that a Man doth undo his own being,departs

from himself,and unmakes himself

,confounds his own

Principles,when he is d isobedient and unconformable to

them ; and must necessarily be self-condemned .

’ 1 It isno less Characteristic o f man ’s nature to act conformablyto these rational principles than it is natural fo r a no n

rational being to be guided by Sense and impulse. ‘ Bywhich you may see the Degeneracy o f us Mortals ; inthat the State below us remains in the same Principle i twas created in ; but we Men do neither find out theReasons o f th ings, nor comply with them. Our Deformityis more because our Perfection is more and the Order o four Being is higher and we use to say, the Fault isgreater in him that is In a higher State. ’ 1

Outside the school o f Cambridge Platonism the movement o f ideal istic or rationalistic philosophy in England in

1 Evidence of D ivine Truth, Campagnac, 5.

1 Christian Religion , Campagnac, 37.


rel igion,

’ namely, the ex istence o fGod,the duty o fworship,

the identity o f worship and virtue, the duty o f repentance,and future reward and punishment . This natural core o frel igion has been overlaid by subsequent accretions o f

supersti tion and dogma ; in the case o f Christianity,as

well as the other historical religions,priestcraft and gui le

have obscured the simplicity o f natural religion . But theauthor himself seems more interested in the positive thanin the negative Side o f his argument ; his work is rather aplea fo r rel igion

,as fundamentally rational in its nature

and source,than a criticism o f actual religion and theology,

or an exposure o f their i rrationality .

Richard Cumberland is a contemporary o f the Cambridge Platonists, and has the same polemical purpose as

Cudworth,namely

,the refutation o f the views o f Hobbes.

On the title-page o f his De Legibus Naturae,published in

16 2,he professes to ‘ consider and refute ’ ‘ the elements

o f r . Hobbes’s Philosophy,as well Moral as Civil. ’ He

is n o Platonist,and attacks the theory o f Innate Ideas as a

Platonic error. ‘ The Platonists,indeed

,clear up th is

Difficulty in an easier manner,by the Supposition o f innate

Ideas,as well o f the Laws o f Nature themselves

,as o f

those Matters about which they are conservant ; but,truly

,I have not been so happy as to learn the Laws o f

Nature in so short a way. No r seems it to me welladvised

,to build the Doctrine o f natural Religion and

M orality upon an Hypothesis, which has been rejected bythe generality of Philosophers, as well Heathen as Christian,and can never be proved against the Epicureans

,with whom

is our chief Controversy.’ 1 Unlike his predecessors,he

limits the inquiry to ethics,and seeks to prove the

‘ naturalness ’

o f moral laws. Laws o f Nature, in thisethical reference

,are defined by him as ‘ propositions o f

unchangeable Truth,which direct our voluntary Actions

about choosing Good and Evil ; and impose an Obligation to external actions even without Civil Laws

,and

laying aside all Considerations o f those Compacts whichconstitute Civil Government.’ 1 He defines ‘ Good ’

as

1 Introd., sect. v.1 Ch. i. p. 39 .

THE IDEALISTIC REACTION 9 1

‘ that which preserves,or enlarges and perfects, the

Faculties o f any o ne Thing, or o f several.’ 1 It follows

that the Law o f Nature prescri bes those actions which‘ will chiefly promote the common Good

,and by which

only the entire Happiness o f particular Persons can beobtained .’ 1 From these statements it seems clear that,while he accepts Hobbes’s term preservation

,

’ he includesboth happiness and perfection

,or development o f faculty,

as inseparable elements in the Good . He is more co n

cerned with the determination o f the form o f conductwhich will lead to the attainment o f this end ; and hisconclusion is that the best method o f securing it is that o fbenevolence

,or regard fo r the common good

,as opposed

to selfish preoccupation wi th o ur own indiv idual interests.The greatest Benevolence o fevery rational Agent towardsall

,forms the happiest State o f every

,and o f all the

Benevolent,as far as is in their Power and is necessarily

requisite to the happiest State which they can attain,and

therefore the common Good is the supreme Law .

’ 3 Thisendeavour to promote the common good ‘ includes ourLove o f God

,and o f all Mankind

,who are the Parts o f

this System. God,indeed

,is the principal Part Men the

subordinate : A benevolence toward both includes Pietyand Humanity

,that is

,both Tables o f the Law o f

Nature." 1 He repeatedly points out that the commongood includes our own

,as one o f i ts parts ; but it must

be sought only as a part,in subordination to the whole.

Cumberland’s confidence in the perfect coincidence o f

v i rtue,o r benevolence

,and indiv idual happiness ultimately

depends upon his doctrine o f the divine sanctions o f theLaws o f Nature. But his main interest in the ethicalquestion is to insist

,against Hobbes

,upon the naturalness

o f the law o f benevolence and the inherent unreasonableness o f separating the individual and his good from thesystem o f rational beings o f which he is in reality only apart, and with whose good his own is inseparably bound up .

1 Ch. I p. 165.1 Ch. v . p. 189 .

1 Ch. i. 1 Introd. , sect. xv. p. 20 .

CHAPTER IV

LOCKE : THE PROBLEM OF KNOWLEDGE

IT was not the study o f either Bacon or Hobbes that firstawakened Locke’s interest in philosophy or determinedthe d irection o f his own philosophical development .Although there is much in his writings which we canhardly but interpret as aimed against the views o f thesethinkers

,there is practically n o mention o f them in his

works. AS an undergraduate at Oxford,he was compelled

to read the Scholastic philosophy,and was trained in the

art o f disputation and his entire philosophical activ ity maybe regarded as a protest against the settlement o f in tellectualquestions by verbal disputation and submission to authority.

Following up his undergraduate course with professionalmedical study, he came into contact with the Bacon ianSpirit o f experimental investigation which was alreadymoving the life o f the University.

‘ It might be interesting

,

’ says Professor Campbell Fraser,to speculate upon

the consequences to philosophy,in England and in Europe,

ifLocke had spent his academical life at Cambridge insteado f Oxford

,and had breathed its atmosphere o f Platonism,

instead o f pursuing physical experiments at Oxford,when

Oxford was giving birth to its Royal Society .

’ 1 Butwhile we must trace the spirit o f intellectual freedom

, and

the faith in experience,which are so characteristic o f

Locke, to the influence, negative and positive, o f his

academ ic env ironment,there can be no doubt that the

real influence which first set h im thinking about theproblems o f philosophy

,and which determined the specific

1 Introd. to Essay , p. xxxiv.

92


itself ; how far it extends,and where the l ine must be

drawn between certain knowledge and probable opin ion .

While Bacon sought to formulate the methods o f scientificknowledge

,or to construct a system o f inductive logic

,

Locke comes,in the end

,to the conclusion that n o

science o f bodies,

’ or certain knowledge o f the real world,

is poss i ble,and that the needs o f practice are sufficiently

met by the probab i lities o f opinion,or bel ief.

So far as English philosophy is concerned,Locke is the

first to state the problem in this form ; his is the firstcriticism o f human knowledge

,or epistemology.

1 HisStatement o f the problem is o f epoch-making importancefo r the subsequent development o f philosophy in Englandand on the Continent

,in the hands especially o f Hume

and Kant . Locke himself seems to have been led to hisstatement o f i t by his experience o f the difficulties inwhich the discussion o f moral and religious questionsinvolves the human mind . We learn from his commonplace books that he was in“ his early life much interestedin such questions

,and in the ‘ Epistle to the Reader ’ he

tells us : Were it fit to trouble thee with the history o fth is Essay, I Should tell thee, that five or six friends meeting at my chamber

,and discoursing on a subj ect very

remote from this,found themselves quickly at a stand

,by

the difficulties that rose on every side . After we hadawhile puz z led ourselves

,without coming any nearer a

resolution o f those doubts which perplexed us, i t cameinto my thoughts that we took a wrong course ; andthat, before we set ourselves upon inquiries o f thatnature

,i t was necessary to examine our own abil it ies

,and

see what objects our understandings were, or were no t,

fitted to deal with .

’T he discovery o f the boundary line

that separates certainty from probabil ity,knowledge from

opinion,will guide us in the profitable use o f o ur under

standings : ‘ we Shall then use our understandings right,when we entertain all obj ects in that way and proportion

1 Unless Herbert o f Cherbury’s De Veritate is to b e regarded as a

critical inquiry into the relatio ns o f knowledge and reality, as Pro fessor

S o rley urges (Mind, N .S ., Iii. 49 1

LOCKE 95

that they are suited to our faculties,

’

and upon thosegrounds they are capable o f being proposed to us ; andnot peremptorily or intemperately require demonstration,and demand certainty

,where probabi lity on ly is to be had

,

and which is sufficient to govern all our concernments. ’ 1

O f the practical sufficiency o f our knowledge Locke neverhas any doubt.

‘ For though the comprehen sion o f

o ur understandings comes exceedingly Short o f the vastextent o f th ings

,yet we shall have cause enough to

magnify the bountiful Author o f our being fo r thatportion and degree o f knowledge he has bestowed on us

,

so far above all the rest o f the inhabitants o f this ourmansion . We shall not have much reason to complain o f the narrowness o f our minds, if we will butemploy them about what may be o f use to us ; fo r o f

that they are ve ry capable. And it will be an unpardonable

,as well as childish peevishness

,if we undervalue the

advantages o f our knowledge,and neglect to improve i t

to the ends fo rwhich it was given us,because there are

som e th ings that are set out o f the reach o f i t. It will beno excuse to an idle and untoward servant

, who would no tattend his busin ess by candle l ight

,to plead that he had

not bright sunshine. The Candle that is set up in ussh ines bright enough for all our purposes.’ 1

At the very threshold o f such an exam ination o f

knowledge and opin ion,however

,Locke is met by the

objection that there is a part o f human knowledge whose

va idity is beyond question, that we have a set o f ideaswhich are not

,l ike the rest

,acquired, but ‘ innate

,

’the

immediate and indubitable expression o f reason i tself.‘When men have found some general propositions thatcould not be doubted o f as soon as understood

,i t was, I

know,a short and easy way to conclude them innate. This

being once received,it eased the laz y from the pains o f

search, and stopped the inquiry o f the doubtful concern ingall that was once styled innate. And it was o f n o smalladvantage to those who affected to be masters and

1 In trod., sect. 5.

1 Loc. cit.


teachers,to makI: th is the principle o f principles— that

principles must not be questioned.

’ 1 The first Book o f theEssay i s accordingly devoted to the refutation o f the doctrine o f Innate Ideas

,in the sense just explained

,or to

the refutation o f the claim o f any elements in our socalled knowledge to exemption from the criticism whichhe is about to undertake . All the parts o f our knowledge,he insists

,have the same rank and the same history.

It is diflicult to determine against whom the argument isdirected

,or to find any philosopher

,then o r since

,who

would deny what Locke maintains.’ 1 But when we n oteLocke’s polemical in terest in the question, and rememberthe significance fo r him o f the empirical origin o f all theelements o f human knowledge

,we can afford to disregard

the doubtful relevancy o f the argumen t,and be content

to see in it an earnest protest against the pr inciple o f

authority,a vindication o f our right to examine critically

all the so -called principles ’

o f human knowledge.

The elements, data, or materials o f knowledge arecalled by Locke ‘ ideas

,

’ an idea being defined by him aswhatsoever is the object o f the understanding when a manthinks. ’ In one sense at least

,therefore

,the measure o four

knowledge will be found in the extent and clearness o f ourideas. What we actually know, we must have an idea o fthat o f which we have no idea

,or only an obscure and

inadequate idea,we cannot know

,or can know only inade

quately. The l imitation o f our knowledge will be foundin the limitation o f our ideas. Hence ‘ the greater parto f a book treating o f the understanding will be taken upin considering ideas.’ The earl ier Books o f the Essay aredevoted to this ‘ consideration ’

o f ideas, seeking, in ah istorical plain method

,

’ to give an ‘ account o f theways whereby our understandings come to attain thosenotions o f things we have ’

; inquiring into ‘ the originalo f those ideas

,notions

,or whatever else you please to call

them,which a man observes

,and is conscious to himself

1 I . iii. 25.

1 Fraser, Loche, in Philo sophical Classics , ’ p. 1 17.


assumes the existence o f external th ings o n the o ne hand,

and o f the mind o n the other,and the ‘ operation o f the

former upon the latter. How motion in the obj ect and inthe sense-organ can produce ideas in the understanding

,he

does no t attempt to explain he is content to describe theway in which our understandings conceive the relation inquestion

,to accept the facts as they repo rt themselves

in the human understanding. Q uestions o f physiologicalpsychology and o f metaphysical theory are equally remotefrom his purpose, at least In the second Book, where he Issimply giving an account o f the genesis o f our ideas and

,

according to his historical plain method,

’ keeping consisten tlywithin the limits o f these ideas themselves. What,he v irtually asks, are o ur ideas in their simplest form,

andwhat do these ideas tell us about the understanding onthe o ne hand and about things on the other The q uest ion o f the valid ity or inval idity o f that report— the realquestion o f the Essay—is reserved fo r the fourth Book.

The common source o f our ideas is found by Locke inexperience

,in one or other o f i ts two form s

,sensation and

reflection,or external and internal sense. T o i llustrate

the indebtedness o f the understanding to experience fo r itsideas

,he uses two analogies : that o f a sheet o f white

paper,and that o f a dark room. Let us then suppose the

mind to be,as we say

,white paper, void o f all characters,

without any ideas —How comes i t to be furn ishedWhence comes i t by that vast store which the busy andboundless fancy o f man has painted on it with an almostendless variety Whence has it all the materials o f reasonand knowledge ? To this I answer

,i n o ne word

,from

EXPERIENCE . In that all our knowledge is foundedand from that it ultimately derives itself. Our observation

,

employed ei ther about external sensible obj ects,or about

the internal operations o f our minds perceived and re

flected on by ourselves,Is that which suppl ies our under

standings with all the materials o f th inking. These twoare the fountains o f knowledge, from whence all theideas we have

,or can naturally have, do spring.

’ 1

1 11. i. z .

LOCKE 99‘ External and internal sensation are the only passagesthat I can find o f knowledge to the understanding. Thesealone

,as far as I can discover

,are the windows by which

light is let into this dark room. For, methinks, the understanding is not much unl ike a closet wholly shut fromlight

,with only some little openings left

,to let in external

visible resemblances,o r ideas o f things without : would

the pictures coming into such a dark room but stay there,

and lie so orderly as to be found upon occasion,i t would

very much resemble the understanding o f a man,in

reference to all obj ects o f sight,and the ideas o f them .

’ 1

Taking these two sources o f ideas in turn,Locke finds

that ‘o ur senses

,conversant about particular sensible

objects,do convey into the mind several d istin ct percep

tions o f things,accord ing to those various ways wherein

those objects do affect them . And thus we come bythose ideas we have o f yellow,

white,heat

,cold

,soft, hard,

bitter,sweet

,and all those which we call sensible qualities

which when I say the senses convey in to the mind, Imean

,they from external objects convey into the mind

what produces there those perceptions. This great sourceo f most o f the ideas we have

,depending wholly upon

our senses,and derived by them to the understanding

,I

call SENSATION .

’ 2 ‘ Secondly,the other fountain

,from

which experience furnisheth the understanding with ideas,

— is the perception o f the operations o f our own mindwithin us, as it is employed about the ideas it has gotwhich operations

,when the soul comes to reflect o n and

consider,do furn ish the understanding with another set o f

ideas,which could not be had from things without . And

such are perception,thinking, doubting, believing, reasoning,

knowing, willing, and al l the different actings o f our ownminds —which we being conscious o f

,and observ ing in

ourselves,do from these receive into our understandings

as distinct ideas as we do from bodies affecting our senses.This source o f ideas every man has wholly in himself ;and though it be not sen se

,as hav ing nothing to do with

external obj ects,yet it is very like it

,and might properly

1 I I . xi. x7.8 I I . i. 3.

I o o ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

enough be called internal sense. But as I call the otherSensation

,so I call this REFLECTION

,the ideas i t affords

being such only as the mind gets by reflecting o n its own

operations within i tself. By reflection,then

,I would

be understood to mean,that notice which the mind takes

o f its own operations,and the manner o f them

,by reason

whereof there come to be ideas o f these Operations in theunderstanding. ’ 1

It is to the consideration o f the ideas o f sensation thatthe inqui ry is chiefly devoted . The simple ideas o f

reflection are div ided into two classes : Perception, orThinking ; and Volition, o r Willing

,and referred to

the two ‘ powers,abilities

,o r faculties

,

’ called Understanding ( in the narrower sense) and Will respectively.

The account o f the simple ideas o f sensation is muchmore complicated . In this case the idea is always theidea o f a quality, which is referred by the mind to a thing.The classification o f the ideas is therefore based upon thedist inction between the two kinds o f qualities o f whichour ideas inform us

,primary and secondary. The primary

qual ities are extension,figure, sol idi ty, motion or rest,

andnumber ; all others are secondary. The former are alsocalled ‘ real ’ qualit ies

,since they actually belong to the

thing,whether it is perceived or not ; while the secondary

are called ‘ imputed ’ qual ities,since they do not really

belong to the thing,but depend fo r their real ity upon our

perception o f them.

‘What I have said concern ingcolours and smells may be understood also o f tastes andsounds

,and other the l ike sensible qualities ; which ,

whatever real ity we by mistake attribute to them,are in

truth nothing in the obj ects themselves,but powers to

produce various sensations in us ; and depend on thoseprimary qual ities

,viz . bulk, figure

,texture, and m otion

o f parts.’ 2 It follows that the ideas o f the primaryqualities resemble these qualities as they really exist in theobj ect

,

‘ and their patterns do really exist in the bodiesthemselves ’

; while in the case o f the secondary qualit ies

1 I I . i. 4.2 I I . viii. I4.

1 0 2 ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

suppose some substratum wherein they do subs ist, and fromwhich they do result ; which therefore we call substance.

So that if any one will exam ine himse lf concern ing h isnotion o f pure substance in general

,be will find he has

no other idea o f i t at all, but only a suppo s ition o f heknows not what support o f such qualities which are capableo f producing simple ideas in us ; which qual i ties arecommonly called accidents. If any o ne should be ask ed

,

what is the subject wherein colour or weight inheres,

he would have nothing to say, but the sol id extendedparts ; and if he were demanded

,what is it that

solidity and extension inhere in, he would not be in amuch better case than the Indian before mentioned who,saying that the world was supported by a great elephant

,

was asked what the elephant rested on ; to which hisanswer was

,a great tortoise : but being again pressed

to know what gave support to the broad-backed tortoise,

replied— something, he knew not what.’ 1 The obscure and

relative idea o f substance in general,’ therefore

,is nothing

but the suppo sed but unknown,support o f those qualities

we find existing.

This idea o f substan ce in general l ies at the basis o f o urideas o f particular substances

,which we acquire by col

leeting such combinations o f simple ideas as are,by ex

perience and observation o f men ’s senses, taken notice o f

to exist together and are therefore supposed to flow fromthe particular internal constitution, o r unknown essenceo f that substance .”1 We can never be certain, however

,that we have discovered the real collection o f qual ities

which constitutes the particular substan ce ’ in question,

fo r two reasons : first,because we can never know the

general substance o r support o f the primary qualitiesand

,secondly

,because the primary qualities themselves

,

upon which the co -existence o f the secondary qualitiesdepends

,as well as the connexion o f the former with the

latter qualities,remain in every case beyond our know

ledge. The first o f these reasons has been sufficiently

1 I I . xxiii. x, z .

2 I I . xxiii. 3.

LOCKE 1 03

explained the second is stated in the account o f the distinction between the real ’ and the ‘ nominal ’ essence inBook III . The former is ‘ the real internal

,but gener

ally (in substances) unknown constitution o f things,

whereon their discoverable qualities depend’ 1 the latter

is ‘ the artificial con stitution o f genus and species.’ There

must be some real constitution, o n which any collee

t ion o f simple ideas depends,— ‘

a real,but unknown

,

constitution o f their insensible parts ; from which Howthose sensible qualities which serve us to distinguish themfrom one another

,accord ing as we have occasion to rank

them into sorts,under common den ominations. ’ 2 Our

div isions into genera and species are,therefore

,artificial

and,so far

,unreal ; there is a real foundation for these

distinctions and classifications,but we do not know it

,or

know it only imperfectly. ‘The sorting o f things by us,or the making o f determ inate species

,being in order to

naming and comprehending them under general terms,

I canno t see how i t can be properly said,that Nature sets

the boundaries o f the Species o f things ; o r,if i t be so

,our

boundaries o f species are not exactly conformable to thosein nature . For we

,hav ing need o f general names fo r

present use,stay not fo r a perfect discovery o f all those

qualities which would best show us their most materialdifferences and agreements but we ourselves divide them

,

by certain obvious appearances,into species. ’ 3 Our col

lection o f ideas (the nominal essence) is n o t identical withthe real collection ( the real essence) . If we knew theinner constitution o f things

,our idea o f any particular

substance ‘ would be as far different from what i t nowis,as is his who knows all the springs and wheels and

other contrivances within o f the famous clock at Strasburg,from that which a gaz ing countryman has o f i t

,who

barely sees the motion o f the hand,and hears the clock

strike,and observes only some o f the outward appear

ances"

Our idea o f spiritual substance is o f precisely the same2 II I. iii. 17.

I I I . vi 3.

1 04. ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

kind as that o f material substance—a something, differentfrom material substance

,since i t is the support o f different

qualities,namely

,

‘ the operations o f the mind,

’ but equallyunknown . So en tirely ignorant are we o f the nature o fboth material and spiri tual substance that we cannot tellwhether they are really the same or different . ‘We havethe ideas o f matter and thinking, but possibly shall neverbe able to know whether any mere material being thinkso r no ; i t being impossible fo r us, by the contemplationo f our own ideas

,without revelation

,to discover whether

Omnipotency has n o t given to some systems o f matter,

fitly disposed, a power to perceive and think, or else j oinedand fixed to matter

,so disposed

,a thinking immaterial

substance it being,in respect o f our notion s

,n o t much

more remote from o ur comprehension to conceive thatGOD can

,if he pleases

,superadd to matter a faculty of

thinking, than that he should superadd to i t another substancewith a faculty of thinking.

’ 1

The idea o f cause o r power is,l ike that o f substance

,

traced by Locke to experience. We get it both from ourideas o f sen sation and from reflecting on what passeswithin the mind itself ; in both cases we observe changeand

,by considering the possibil ity o f change

,we come by

the idea o f power . He thinks,however

,that we get a

clearer and more distinct idea o f active power from reflec

tion o n the operations o f our own m inds than fromsensible observation o f bodies. ‘ It seems to me we have

,

from the observation o f the operation o f bodies by oursenses

,but a very imperfect

,obscure idea o f activ e power

since they afford us not any idea in themselves o f thepower to begin any action, either motion or thought .

’ 2

The ‘ crucial instance ’

o f Locke’s hypothesis o f theempirical origin o f all our ideas is the idea o f Infinity.

All those sublime thoughts which tower above the clouds,

and reach as high as heaven itself,take thei r rise and

footing here : in all that great extent wherein the mindwanders

,in those remote speculations it may seem to

1 IV . ill, 6.

2 I I . xxi. 4.

I o 6 ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

conscious, is a certificate o f our own existence,as the

subj ect o f that experience,the self that is conscious o f that

idea. ‘ As fo r our own existence,we perceive it so plain ly

and so certainly,that it neither needs no r is capable o f

any proof. For nothing can be more ev ident to us thanour own existence . I think, I reason, I feel pleasure andpain can any o f these be more evident to me than myown existence ? If I doubt o f all other things

,that very

doubt makes me perceive my own existence,and will not

suffer me to doubt o f that. For if I know I feel pain, itis ev ident I have as certain perception o f my own exis

tence, as o f the pain I feel o r if I know I doubt, I haveas certain perception o f the existence o f the th ing doubting,as o f that thought which I calldoubt. In every act o fsensation

,reasoning

,or thinking

,we are conscious to our

selves o f our own being ; and, in this matter, come notshort o f the highest degree o f certainty.

’ 1

From the certainty o f our own existence that o f theexistence o f God immediately follows. This is, accordingto Locke

,the most obvious truth that reason discovers

its ev idence is ‘ equal to mathematical certa inty.

’ Manknows intuitively that he is ‘

something that actually exists.

’

In the next place,man knows

,by an intuit ive certainty,

that bare nothing can no more produce any real being, than it

can be equal to two right angles.’ It is, therefore, an

ev ident demonstration,that from eternity there has been

something.

’ And since all the powers o f all beings mustbe traced to this eternal Being

,i t follows that i t is the

most powerful,as well as the most knowing, that is, God .

Eternal Mind alone can produce ‘ thinking,perceiv ing

beings, such as we find ourselves to be.”Below the rank o f knowledge proper, intuitive anddemonstrative

,Locke recognises a third degree o f know

ledge, n o t strictly entitled to the name—our sensitiveapprehension o f external things, or o f real objects otherthan ourselves and God.

‘These two, viz . intuitionand demonstration

, are the degrees o f our knowledge ,

1 IV. ix. 3.2 IV. x.

LOCKE I o7

whatever comes short o f one o f these, with whatassurance soever embraced, is but faith or opinion, butno t knowledge

,at least in all general truths. There is,

indeed,another perception o f the mind, employed about

the particular existence of finite beings without us,which

,

going beyond bare probabil i ty,and yet not reaching

perfectly to either o f the foregoing degrees o f certainty,

passes under the name o fknowledge. There can be nothingmore certain than that the idea we receive from anexternal object is in our minds this is intuitive knowledge.But whether there be anything more than barely thatidea in our m inds ; whether we can thence certainlyinfer the existence o f anything without us

,which corre

spo nds to that idea, is that whereof some men th ink theremay be a question made ; because men may have suchideas in their m inds

,when no such thing exists, no such

object affects their senses. ’ 1 The difficulty is put elsewherein a more philosophical form :

‘ It is evident the m indknows n o t things immediately

,but only by the inter

ven tio n o f the ideas it has o f them . Our knowledge,therefore

, is real, only So far as there is a conformitybetween our ideas and the real ity o f things. But whatshall be here the cri terion How shall the mind, when itperceives nothing but its own ideas

,know that they agree

with things themselves Does no t the very definitiono f knowledge

,as the perception o f the agreement or dis

agreement o f ideas with one another,preclude the percep

tion o f the agreement o f ideas with non- ideal realityLocke’s argument fo r the objective validity o f sensitive

knowledge consists o f several considerations. In the firstplace

,he urges

,our ideas o f sensation differ from those o f

memory and imagination,that is from mere ideas, in being

produced in us without any action o f our own,and there

fore ‘ must necessarily be the product o f things operatingon the mind

,in a natural way

,and producing therein

those perceptions which by the W isdom and Will o f ourMaker they are ordained and adapted to.’ They ‘ carry

1 IV . I I. I4.

2 IV. iv. 3.

I 0 8 ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

with them all the conformity which is intended or whichour state requires : fo r they represent to us things underthose appearances which they are fitted to produce in uswhereby we are enabled to distinguish the sorts o f particular substances

,to discern the states they are in, and

so to take them fo r our necessit ies,and apply them to

our uses.’ 1 [Secondly, pleasure or pain often accompan iesthe sensation, and is absent from the idea as it recurs inmemory or imagination and this certainty is as great asour happiness o rmisery

,beyond which we have no con

cernmen t to know or to be.’ 2 Thirdly, our several sensesassist one another’s testimony

,and thus enable us to

predict our sensational experience. On these groundsLocke concludes that ‘ the certainty o f things existingin rerum natura when we have the testimony o f oursenses fo r it is not only as great as our frame can attainto

,but as our condi tion needs. For, our faculties being

suited n o t to the full extent o f being, nor to a perfect,clear, comprehensive knowledge o f things free from alldoubt and scruple but to the preservation o f us

,in whom

they are and accommodated to the use o f l ife they serveto our purpose well enough

,if they w i l l but give us certain

notice o f those things,which are conven ien t o r inco n

ven ien t to us. ’ 3 The certainty which Locke attributes tosensitive knowledge is thus seen to be practical

,rather than

theoretical ; and it is impossible to distinguish this degreeo f knowledge from the bel ief or opin ion which resultsfrom a balance o f probabil it ies rather than from certainperception .

But even granting that our sensitive apprehension o f

external reality possesses the certainty which is the characteristic o f knowledge

,as d istinguished from mere opinion,

we must observe within how very narrow limits it is co nfined .

‘When our senses do actually convey into ourunderstandings any idea

,we cannot but be satisfied that

there doth something at that time really exist without us,

which doth affect our senses,and by them give notice o f

1 IV. iv. 4.2 IV. I I . 14.

3 IV. xi. 8.


far soever human industry may advance useful and experimen tal philosophy in physical things

,scientifical will

st i ll be o ut o f our reach . Certainty and demonstrationare things we must not

,in these matters

,pretend to .

’ 1

‘ And therefore we shall do no injury to our knowledge,when we modestly think with ourselves

,that we are so

far from being able to comprehend the whole nature o f

the universe,and all things contained in it

,that we are

no t capable o f a philosophical knowledge o f the bodies thatare about us

,and make a part o f us : concern ing their

secondary qualities, powers, and operations, we can haveno universal certainty. In these we can go no furtherthan particular experience informs us o fmatter o f fact

,and

by analogy to guess what effects the like bodies are,upon

other trials,l ike to produce . But as to a perfect science o f

natural bodies, (n o t to mention Spiritual beings), we are, I

think,so far from being capable o f any such thing, that

I conclude it lost labour to seek after it.

’ 2 In that‘ experience and history ’ to which Bacon had looked as

merely the preparation fo rsc ientific insight into the formso f things

,and which Hobbes had Sti ll more disparaged

,

Locke accordingly sees the only legitimate occupation o f

physical inqui ry.

‘This way o f getting and improvingour knowledge in substances only by experience and history,which is all that the weakness o f our faculties in thisstate o f mediocrity which we are in in this world canattain to

,makes me suspect that natural philosophy is not

capable of being made a science. We are able,I imagine

,

to reach very little general knowledge concern ing theSpecies o f bodies

,and their several properties. Experi

ments and historical observations we may have, fromwhich we may draw advantages o f ease and health, andthereby increase our stock o f conveniences fo r this l ife ;but beyond this I fear our talents reach not

,nor are our

faculties, as I guess, able to advance.’ 3

If we cannot attain to a science o f bodies, still less canwe expect scien tifical understanding o f spiri ts. Spiritual

1 IV . iii. 26. 2 IV. iii. 29 .

3 IV. xu. I o .

LOCKE I I I

substance is,as we have seen

,as unknown as material

substance ; and Locke finds additional reasons fo r l imitingour knowledge in this sphere . ‘ If we are at a loss inrespect o f the powers and operations o f bodies

,I think it

is easy to conclude we are much more in the dark inreference to spirits ; whereof we naturally have no ideasbut what we draw from that o f our own

,by reflecting on

the operations o f our own souls within us,as far as they

come within our observation . But how inconsiderable arank the spirits that inhabit our bodies hold amongstthose various and possibly innumerable kinds o f noblerbeings ; and how far short they come o f the endowments and perfections o f cherubim and seraphim

,and

infinite sorts o f spirits above us,is what by a tran

sient hint in another place I have offered to my reader’sconsideration .

’ 1

Our knowledge o f ‘ sensible matters o f facts,

’or o f the

coexistence o f the ideas which represent the qualities o fsubstances

,being thus confined to the particulars o f ex

perience, we must look elsewhere fo r that knowledgewhich is at once general and real . It is found in thosecomplex ideas other than those o f substances

,which

,

‘ being archetypes o f the mind’s own making, n o t in

tended to be the copies o f anything,nor referred to the

existence o f anything, as to their originals, cannot wantany conformity necessary to real knowledge. ’ 2 Here wehave to do not with the relations o f ideas to reality or tomatters o f fact, but simply with the relations o f ideas toone another. O f this kind o f knowledge Locke regardsmathematics as the type. ‘ I doubt not but i t will beeasily granted that the knowledge we have o f mathematical truths is not only certain

,but real knowledge and

not the bare empty vision o f vain, insign ificant chimeraso f the brain : and yet, if we will consider, we shall findthat it is only o f our own ideas. ’ 3 It is with idealfigures and quantities

,not with actual th ings

,that the

1 IV . iii. I 7.2 IV. ivo 5.

8 IV. iv. 6.

I I 2 ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

mathematician is concerned . Locke holds,however

,that

such general,yet certain knowledge is found in all similar

relations o f ideas,in all similarly ideal sciences

,and more

particularly,in ethics

,

‘ our moral ideas,as well as mathe

matical, being archetypes themselves, and so adequateand complete ideas. ’ 1 ‘The idea o f a supreme Being

,

infinite in power,goodness, and wisdom ,

whose workmanship we are

,and on whom we depend ; and the

idea o f ourselves,as understanding

,rational creatures

,

being such as are clear in us,would

,I suppose

,if duly

considered and pursued,afford such foundations o f our

duty and rules o f action as might place morality amongstthe sciences capable of demonstration wherein I doubt notbut from self-ev ident propositions

,by necessary co n

sequences,as incontestable as those in mathematics

,the

measures o f r ight and wrong might be made out to anyone that will apply himself with the same indifferencyand attention to the one as he does to the other o f thesesciences 2

The Essay closes, as i t began,with the note o f the

practical and the useful. The Sharp limitation o f humanknowledge Should teach the lesson o f contentment withprobability

,where certainty is unattainable . ‘ The

understanding faculties being given to man,no t barely fo r

speculation,but also fo r the conduct o f his l ife

,man would

be at a great loss if he had nothing to d irect him butwhat has the certainty o f true knowledge. Fo r that beingvery Short and scanty

,as we have seen

,he would he often

utterly in the dark,and in most o f the actions o f his life

perfectly at a stand,had he nothing to gu ide him in the

absence o f clear and certain knowledge. He that willn o t eat till he has demonstration that i t will nourish himhe that will no t stir t ill he infallibly knows that thebusiness he goes about will succeed

,w i l l have little else to

do but to sit still and perish . Therefore, as God has setsome things in broad dayl ight ; as he has given us some

1 IV. iv. 7.

2 IV. iii. 18.


reason (and syllogism), o n faith and reason,on ‘

en thu

Siasm,

’ and on wrong assent,or error. The treatment

o f Judgment, that is to say, is l imited to general consideratio ns regarding the function o f faith and the relationso f faith and reason as guides o f the human m ind .What is Specially significant here is Locke’s refusal tooppose faith and reason in the fashion o f Bacon andHobbes

,his refusal to accept any authority which cannot

v indicate itself at the bar o f reason . Even in his insistence upon the necessi ty o f supplementing o ur knowledge by faith

,Locke remains a rationalist . ‘ Faith is

nothing but a firm assent o f the mind : which,if i t be

regulated,as is our duty

,cannot be afforded to anything

but upon good reason ; and so cannot be opposi te to i t .He that believes without hav ing any reason fo r believ ing

,

may be in love with his own fancies ; but neither seekstruth as he ought

,no r pays the obedience due to his

Maker,who would have h im use those discerning facult ies

he has given him,to keep him out o f m istake and

error. He governs his assent right,and places i t

as he should, who, in any case or matter whatsoever,believes or disbelieves according as reason d irects him .

He that doth otherw ise,transgresses against his own light

,

and m isuses those faculties which were given him to noother end

,but to search and follow the clearer ev idence

and greater probabil ity .

’ 1 Locke is at one with therationalist theologians o f his century in their antagon ismto an enthusiasm which would substitute fo r the insighto f reason and o f rational faith the so -called ‘ revelation ’

o f private experience. He Speaks o f ‘a third ground of

assent,which with some men has the same authority

,and

is as confidently relied o n as either faith o r reason ; Imean enthusiasm : which

,laying by reason

,would set up

revelation without it . Whereby in effect it takes awayboth reason and revelation

,and substitutes in the room

o f them the ungrounded fancies o f a man’s own brain,

and assumes them fo r a foundation both o f Opinion and

1 IV . xv u. 24.

LOCKE I I 5

conduct.’ 1 As against such a v iew,he insists upon

the necessity o f j udging revelation by reason .

‘ He,

therefore,that will not give himself up to all the extrava

gances o f delusion and error must bring this guide o f his

light within to the trial . Godwhen he makes the prophetdoes not unmake the man . He leaves all his facultiesin the natural state

,to enable him to judge o f his inspira

tions,whether they be o f divine original or no. When

he illum inates the mind with supernatural l ight,he does

not extinguish that which is natural . If he would haveus assent to the truth o f any proposition , he either evidences that truth by the usual methods o f natural reason,or else makes it known to be a truth which he wouldhave us assent to by his authori ty

,and conv inces us that

it is from him,by some marks which reason cannot be

mistaken in . Reason must be our last judge and guide in

everything.

’ 2

Yet reason clearly limits the field o f its own insight ;it is only reasonable to believe where we cannot knowand yet must act. We have seen that it was the difficultiesconcerning morality and revealed religion that were theoccasion o f the Inquiry concern ing human understanding .

The result o f that inquiry is that the human understanding is no t commensurate with real ity

,that our l ine

is too short to sound the depths o f the vast ocean o f being,

that the interests o f morality and religion cannot be compassed by the reason o f man

,and that knowledge must be

supplemented by faith if man is to fulfil his div ine destiny .

This is the point o f view,no t only o f the closing chapters

o f the Essay , but o f the treatise on the Reasonableness ofChristianity, published five years later. The aim o f thistreatise was to recall men from the contentions o f thetheological schools to the simplicity o f the gospel as therule o f human life ‘ The writers and wranglers inreligion fill i t with n icetIeS

,and dress it up with notions,

which they make necessary and fundamental parts o f itas if there were no way into the church

,but through the

1 IV. xix. 3.1 IV . xix. I4.


academy or lyceiim . The greatest part o f mankind haveno t leisure fo r learn ing and logic

,and superfine distinctions

o f the schools. ’ 1 What men need is not intellectualinsight o r theological dogma

,but practical guidance . Locke

seems less confident than he was in the Essay o f thepossibil ity o f a rational science o f morals. ‘ It shouldseem

,by the little that has hitherto been done in it

,that

i t is too hard a task fo r unassisted reason to establishmoral ity

,in all its parts, upon its true foundation, with a

clear and conv incing l ight . It is plain,in fact

,that

human reason unassisted failed men in its great and properbusiness o f moral ity. It never from unquestionableprinciples

,by clear deductions

,made out an entire body o f

the “ law o f nature .” And he that Shall collect all themoral rules o f the philosophers

,and compare them with

those contained in the new testament,will find them to

come Short o f the morality delivered by our Sav iour,and

taught by his apostles ; a college made up, for the mostpart

,o f ignorant, but inspired fishermen .

’ 2

Though Locke never himself attempted the constructiono f such a rational science o f ethics as he had foreshadowedin the Essay, he did, in the second o f the two Treatises ofGovernment, attempt the formulation o f a theory o f

political obl igation . The immediate object o f these politicaltreatises was to disprove the theory o f the d ivine andabsolute right o f the Monarch, as it had been formulatedin Filmer

’

s Patriarcha,and to establish o n theoretical

grounds the righteousness o f the Revolution to establishthe throne o f o ur great restorer

,our present king

W ill iam to make good his title in the consent o f thepeople and to justify to the world the people o f

England, whose love o f their just and natural rights, withtheir resolution to preserve them

,saved the nation when

it was o n the very brink o f slavery and ruin .

’ 3 Inshowing

,in the second o f these treatises

,the true original,

extent,and end o f civi l government

,

’

Locke bases his1 Wo rks , 8th ed.

, iii. 98, 939 .

P f

2 Works , iii. 87, 88.

re ace.


deputy acts well,and accord ing to the trust reposed in

him,but he who deputes him, and must, by having

deputed him, have still a power to discard him,when he

fails in his trust ? ’ 1

An all- important part o f that civ il l iberty o f whichLocke was so ardent an advocate is religious liberty

,o r

liberty o f conscience. This,he thinks

,has not yet been

sufficiently vindicated,and he is in full sympathy with

the plea fo r toleration which had been so earnestly madeby such theologians as Chillingwo rth and Jeremy Taylor,as well as by the Cambridge Platon ists

,whose aversion to

dogmatic in tolerance he fully shares. We have need o f

more generous remedies than what have et been madeuse o f in our distemper . It is neither fieclaratio ns o f

Indulgence nor Acts o f Comprehension,such as yet have

been practised or proj ected amongst us,that can do the

work . The first will but pall iate, the second increase ourev il . ’ 2 What is needed is ‘ equal and impartial l iberty

,

’

and this can be secured only by the absolute separation o f

the Sphere o f the Church from that o f the State. TheState has properly to do only with the temporal well-beingo f the individual ; his spiritual and eternal welfare is theconcern o f the Church alone. So long as the Churchkeeps within its own province

,there can be no confl ict

between ecclesiastical and civil authority. It is onlywhen the Church usurps the place o f the State

,and inter

feres with the individual ’s civil allegiance,as in the case

o f the Church o f Rome, that the State is compelled toassert its authority. Here Locke finds the l imit o f theprinciple o f toleration, as well as in the case o f any churchwhich is itself i ntolerant and in that o f the atheistic dissolution o f the social order itself. In all other cases theprinciple o f toleration is absolu tely valid . The oppositeprinciple inevitably defeats i ts own purpose

,since no t

only has the individual an indefeasible right to religiousfreedom

,but he cannot really be constrained in his

rel igious life . The S tate is able by its coercion to pro

1 S ect. 240 .

1 To the Reader.’

LOCKE I I 9

duce hypocrites ; i t cannot dictate to the free spiri t o f theindiv idual in that inner conduct o f his Spiritual life whichis alone rightly called religion .

It is usual with literary critics to condemn Locke as awriter devoid o f style. Mr. Gosse, for example, speakso f the Essay as

‘ a work particularly unengaging in i tsmere style and del ivery

,

" 1 and o f i ts author as ‘ the mostinnocent o f Style ’

o f all English philosophers. ‘ As amere writer he may be said to exhib it the pro se o f theRestoration in i ts most humdrum form . H i s style isprolix

,dull

,and without elevation ; he expresses himse lf

w ith perfect clearness indeed,but without variety or

charm o f any kind . He seems to have a contempt forall the arts o f li terature

,and passes on from sentence to

sentence like a man talking aloud in his Study, and intentonly on making the matter in hand perfectly clear tohimse lf.” M r. Gosse acknowledges that this is not theuniversal v iew

,

’ and that ‘ i t is usual to Speak o f the homespun style o f Locke as

“ forcible,

” “ incisive,and even

“ ingenious.” That it possesses at least these qualitiesmust

,I th ink

,have been proved to the reader by the

quotations made in the course o f this chapter. But Ishould be inclined to claim more than this ; fo r whileLocke is certainly careless as to the literary form o f hisargument, and often dull and tedious through his habitualreiterativeness

,his Style has an ind ividuality, and even a

distinction,which are appreciated only through long

familiarity with his writing ; and that he can on occasionrise to real beauty and eloquence o f l iterary expression isshown by such a passage as the following The memoryo f some men

,it is true

,is very tenacious, even to a miracle.

But yet there seems to be a constant decay o f all ourideas

,even o f those which are stuck deepest, and in minds

the most retentive ; so that if they be not sometimesrenewed

,by repeated exercise o f the senses, or reflection

on those kinds o f objects which at first occasioned them,

1 E ighteen th Century Literature, p. 73. I bid., p. 96.


not-self,is but a complex o f ideas or states o f conscious

ness. For Hume,moreover

,as already in part fo r

Berkeley,the problem o f knowledge changes its aspect

from the problem o f substance to that o f cause. Berkeleyinsists upon the impotence o f matter

,even more than

upon its mind-dependent character ; but he is n o lessconfident than Locke himself that in spirit

,whether

human or div ine,we find the true fountain o f causal

energy or power. Hume finds no greater valid ity inspiritual than in material causes ; in both cases alike thefact o f experience is constant or uniform succession, andthe necessary connexion which we attribute to the relationo f cause and effect is discovered to be merely a subj ectivehab it or custom which results from the tendency to

associate events constantly conjoined in our experience,.not an objective characteristic o f reality. The result o fthe further investigation o f the problem o f knowledge

,on

the empirical l ines suggested by Locke himself,is thus the

sceptical reduction o f knowledge and certain ty to mereopin ion and probabil ity : n o science or certain knowledge

,whether o f minds or bodies

,is attainable by man .

This sceptical result o f the Lockian empiric ism recallsattention to the rational constitution o f knowledge, whichLocke had rather assumed than proved ; and we findReid

,the founder o f the Scottish philosophy o f Common

Sense,insisting upon the rational elements which are

presupposed in all knowledge and in human experienceas we have it. At the end as at the beginning o f thecentury the all- important problem o f phi losophy is theproblem o f knowledge.In the ethical Sphere

,the problem is really set by

Hobbes,the unmitigated egoism o f whose theory is o p

posed by the ‘ moral sense ’ school,whose teaching

,as

developed by Hume, occasions the attempts o f Hartleyand Adam Smith to explain the moral sense by associationand sympathy

,o f Tucker and Paley to reduce virtue to

uti l ity,and o f Price to establ ish morality on a rational

basis.


not-self,is but a complex o f ideas or States o f conscious

ness. Fo r Hume,moreover

,as already in part fo r

Berkeley,the problem o f knowledge changes its aspect

from the problem o f substance to that o f cause. Berkeleyinsists upon the impotence o f matter

,even more than

upon its mind-dependent character ; but he is no lessconfident than Locke himself that in spirit

,whether

human or divine,we find the true fountain o f causal

energy or power. Hume finds no greater valid ity inspiritual than in material causes ; in both cases al ike thefact o f experience is constant or uniform succession

,and

the necessary connexion which we attribute to the relationo f cause and effect is discovered to be merely a subj ect ivehab it or custom which results from the tendency to

associate events constantly conjoined in our experience,.not an objective characteristic o f reality. The result o fthe further investigation o f the problem o f knowledge

,on

the empirical l ines suggested by Locke h imself,is thus the

sceptical reduction o f knowledge and certainty to mereopinion and probability : no science or certain knowledge

,whether o f m i nds or bodies

,i s attainable by man .

This sceptical result o f the Lockian empiricism recallsattention to the rational constitution o f knowledge, whichLocke had rather assumed than proved ; and we findReid

,the founder o f the Scottish philosophy o f Common

Sense,insisting upon the rational elements which are

presupposed in all knowledge and in human experienceas we have it. At the end as at the beginning o f thecentury the all- important problem o f philosophy is theproblem o f knowledge.In the ethical sphere

,the problem is really set by

Hobbes,the unmitigated egoism o f whose theory is o p

posed by the ‘ moral sense ’ school, whose teaching, as

developed by Hume,occasions the attempts o f Hartley

and Adam Sm ith to explain the moral sense by associationand sympathy

,o f Tucker and Paley to reduce virtue to

util ity,and o f Price to establ ish moral ity on a rational

basis.

CHAPTER I

BERKELEY : THE NEW IDEALISM

THE pre- eminent meri ts o f Berkeley as a phi losophicalwriter are acknowledged by all competent judges. Itwill be sufficient here to mention a single cri tic

,Mr.

Gosse,who designates him as perhaps the most exquisite

wri ter o f English in his generation,

’ and ‘o ne o f the

most exquisite writers o f English prose . ’ Among thewriters o f that t ime

,

‘ i t may perhaps be said that thereis not one who is quite his equal in style his prose is distinguished as well fo r dignity and fulness o f phrase

,as fo r

Splendour and del icacy o f diction,without effeminacy.

’ 1

Fo r grace as well as lucidity o f expression,Berkeley is un

rivalled among English philosophers. He is,moreover

,a

master o f that most difficult form o f prose writing, thed ialogue. In the dramatic movement or ‘ action ’

o f thed ialogue

,and in the characterisation o f the interlocutors,

his d ialogues,especially the dlciphron series, remind us

forcibly o f Plato.

It is not so easy to determine his real Sign ificance as aphilosopher. H is writings are dominated throughout bya frankly confessed religious or theological purpose

,which

becomes only more pronounced and engrossing as wepass from his earl ier to his later works. H is great foes,from first to last

,are ‘ Scepticism

,

’ ‘ Atheism,

’ and thatMaterial ism i n which he sees their common philosophicalbasis. O f the Essay towards a New Theory of Vision , hisfirst-publ ished work

,we find him writing (to S i r John

1 History of E zghteenth Cen tury Literature, pp. 96, 203.1 23


Percival) ‘ In a l ittle time I hope to make what is therelaid down appear subservient to the ends o f moral ityand rel igion .

’ In the Treatise concerning the Principles ofHuman Knowledge, published in the following year, thereader is told

,on the ti tle-page

,that ‘ the chief causes

o f Er ror and Difliculty in the Sciences, with the groundso f Scepticism

,Atheism

,and Irrel igion

,are inquired into .

’

The Three Dialogues between Hylas and Phi/onous areintended to show

,among other things

,

‘ the ImmediateProvidence o f a Deity

,in opposition to Sceptics and

Atheists. ’ The writings o f the second period,that o f

middle l ife,are more exclusively dominated by this theo

logical purpose. Alciphron or the M inute Philosopher isentitled ‘ an Apology fo r the Christian Rel igion, again stthose who are called Free- thinkers. ’ In Siris

,the latest

product o f Berkeley’s reflection,the religious

,if not the

theological,interest is supreme . The mood is often more

mystical than philosoph ical,and his sympathies have been

greatly widened,but he is as much concerned as ever

to determine what,in philosophical thought

,is and is not

‘ Atheism .

’ It cannot be denied,moreover

,that he be

trays,especially in his prolonged controversy with the

deists o f his t ime, a real unfairness which leads h imseriously to m isrepresent the aims and arguments o f hisopponents. This biassed and un sympathetic attitude isapparent even in his discussion o f Locke’s doctrine o f‘ abstract ideas ’ in the Introduction to the Principles,and is to o characteristic to be ascribed, as i t is to o

generously by Professor Campbell Fraser,to his natural

‘ impetuosity ’ in controversy. It is a serious flaw in thepolemics o f an author whose aims are so worthy andwhose abili ty as a controversialist ought to have savedh im from any such temptation .

It is a strange irony o f fate that a philosophy whosechief aim was the refutation o f scepticism Should itselfhave come to be regarded as simply a link in the chain o fsceptical reason ing connecting Locke with Hume

,so that

Berkeley is simply an incomplete Hume,and Hume

simply a Berkeley who has learned the implications o f his


subord inate, is comparatively ineffective. His dogg ine o f

the ‘no tiou i djsfingmshed02? with.anything

longedt o his develo pment.

selves

doctrine rests rather upon common sense or rel igious faiththan upon a reasoned philosophy . The years o fmiddle agewere too busy with practical and philan thropic activ itiesto permit o f any resumption o f the strenuous philosophicaleffort o f his youth ; their absorbing intellectual in terestwas the defence o f the faith from the attacks o f deistsand free-th inkers.’ And when at last he comes

,in Siris

,

to gather up the final results o f his philosophical Reflexio n sand Inquiries

,

’ pursued in the quiet closing years at C loyne,

what he gives us is rather an eclectic philosophy culledfrom the ancient writers

,especially Plato and the Neo

Platonists, someth ing between a metaphysical idealism o f

the Platonic type and a mysticism o f the Neo -Platon icsort

,than a systematic development o f his earlier immateri

alism into a Spiritual realism or rational idealism .

Yet,though the philosophy o f Berkeley may justly be

regarded as only a splendid fragment,rather than a com

pletely developed system o f thought, we must not minimise its real importance

,which is much greater than such

a representation would suggest. Professor Fraser hastruly said o f ‘ the new conception o f matter presentedby Berkeley ’ that ‘ its consequences justify us in regarding it as o ne o f the conceptions that mark epochs, and

become springs o f spiritual progress ’ 1 His phi losoph icgenius may be said to have Spent i tself in a single flasho f insight, in the clear apprehension o f one great truthabout external reality and man’s knowledge o f i t ; but sobri lliant is this one achievement, so epoch-making is itsimportance

,no t only for the sceptical reduction o f Lockian

1 S electionsfrom Berkeley , Introd. p . xiii.

BERKELEY : THE NEW IDEALISM m7

principles in Hume,but fo r the subsequent movement o f

philosophical reconstruction in Kan t and h is successors,

that it is not too much to say that Berkeley is the foundero f modern idealism

,and that the ability to appreciate and

to assim i late his conception o f external reality may betaken as a touchstone o f metaphysical sagacity .

’ For itwas Berkeley who first discovered the alternative o f aspiritual mon ism to the dualism alike o f the Lockianand o f the Cartesian philosophy who first ventured theaffirmation that the esse o f material and extended things ispercipi

,that the primary reali ty is spiri tual and the real ity

o f the material world mindfl mndent ; that matter andextension are neither substantial nor attributes

,co -ordi

nate with thought,o f one ultimate substance, but In their

very nature subordinate to thought and the thinking m ind .

And ifLocke had already hinted that true agency is to befound only in the spiritual sphere

,i t was Berkeley who first

clearly apprehended the essentially passive and impotentcharacter o f material ‘ forces

,

’ and pointed persistently tomind or will as the one true cause . It was Berkeley whofi rst Inmodern philo so phyclisco vercd the

subject forknowledge ; “who first clearly saw that, so farfromits being the function o f the knowing mind to reproduce anobject presented to i t from without

,the obj ect is de

pendent fo r its very existence upon the knowing subject.This discovery . .of tM HLW M SM -ifi

idealism , o f“

theqfi g

m of Kant and Hegel “ distina

Htifiiilst' ofi nAnd if,in the

light o f later reflection and deeper insight,Bei'keley

’

s

account o f reality appears naive and fragmentary,i t is yet

n o t difficult to recognise in his simple words the essentialmessage o f later idealism . Some truths there are so nearand obvious to the mind that a man need only open hiseyes to see them . Such I take this important one to be,viz . that all the choir o f heaven and furniture o f the earth,in a word all those bodies which compose the mightyframe o f the world

,have not any subsistence without a

mind ; that their being is to be perceived or known ;


that consequently so long as they are not actually perceived by me, or do no t exist in my mind

,or that o f any

other created spirit,they must either have no existence at

all,or else subsist in the mind o f some Eternal Spirit : i t

being perfectly unintelligible,and involv ing all the ah

surdity o f abstraction, to attribute to any single part o fthem an existence independen t o f a Spirit.’ 1

We learn from Berkeley’s Commonplace Boo k,written

from time to time during his undergraduate years atTrin ity College

,Dublin , that the great formative influ

ence o f his youth was Locke’s Essay which, through theinfluence o fMolyneux, had been prescribed as a text- bookat Dubl in, and appears to have excited this studen t atany rate to independent critical activity. To appreciateBerkeley’s crItICIsm

,It Is Important to recall just how far

Locke himself had gone in the direction o f idealisingreali ty

,how far he had himself followed out his new way

o f ideas . He had proclaimed that our knowledge o f realityconsists o f ideas and is, therefore, mind-dependent. Buthe had at the same time recogn ised a no n - ideal and independen t aspect o f reality

,and distinguished the secondary

quali ties,as merely ideal, from the primary

,as hav ing both

an ideal and a real, o r independent,existence . The

secondary qualities, he had insisted , are reducible to theprimary

,however mysterious the connexion between the

former and the latter may be. Finally, he had postulatedtwo kinds o f substance as the substrata o f the ideas o fsensation and the ideas o f reflection respectively

,and held

that,in some to us unintell igible way

,the material sub

stance operates upon the spiritual,and produces in it those

ideas which correspond to the real qualities o f materialthin s.Niw Berkeley argues that this Lockian theory o f amerely partial equivalence between the ideal and the realobj ect

,th is postulation o f a non- ideal and

,in its substantial

reality,unknowable obj ect, is not merely superfluous but

1 Principles Of Human Knowledge, sect. 6.


fo r the support and pleasure o f l ife, and not to penetrateinto the inward essence and constitution o f th ings.But

,perhaps

,we may be to o partial to ourselves in placing

the fault originally In o ur faculties, and not rather in thewrong use we make o f them . Upon the whole

,I am

inclined to think that the far greater part, if not all, o fthose difficulties which have hitherto amused philosophers,and blocked up the way to knowledge, are entirely owingto ourselves. We have first raised a dust, and thencomplain we cannot see. ’ 1 The great obstacle to knowledge is found by Berkeley

,as it was found by Locke,

is ‘ the mist and veil o f words that has chieflyobscured from us the true nature o f real ity. All ourideas are really part icular and concrete ; it is only because we have been content to accept words in place o fideas that we have imagined the possibil ity o f abstractgeneral ideas. Locke himself has been the v ictim o f suchverbalism and abstraction ; fo r what else is his materialsubstance ’

but an abstract idea,or a mere word which

represents no idea at allThe discussion o f abstract ideas

,to which Berkeley

devotes the Introduction to the Principles,is calculated to

produce a wrong impression both o fLocke’s v iews and o fhis0

Fo rLocke an idea iswhatsoever is the object o f the understanding when aman thinks ’

: hence he uses it ‘to express whatever is

mean t by phantasm,notion

,species

,or whatever it is which

the mind can be employed about in th inking.” ForBerkeley ‘ idea means

,as Professor Fraser says

,

‘ obj ectpresented to the senses

,or represented in imagination .

”

n o difi cultxw ;m

to an abstract image. It is impossible to imagine colour1 Principles , Introd. , sects . 2 , 3.

1 Essay , Introd., sect. 8.

3 Selections , sth ed., p. I I , no te 2 .

BERKELEY : THE NEW IDEALISM

in general,or a triangle which is neither equi lateral

,

isosceles,nor scal

erkeley, in his

that there is a great differencebetween considering length without breadth, and havingan idea

,or imagining length without breadth .

’ 1 Andwhile it has often been inferred from his argument againstabstract ideas that Berkeley was a strict nominalist

,and

denied the val idity o funiversals or concepts, the truth is thathe expl icitly affirms h is belief in the possib ili ty o f general

,

as d istinguished from abstract ideas,and in doing so parts

company with strict nominalism and,in h is doctrine o f

conceptualism,leaves open the possibil ity

,if indeed he

does not imply the necessity,o f realism in the only

sense in which such a doctrine is now held . While allideas are

,in themselves

,particular

,any idea may acquire

generality by being used to represent other particular ideasor the element common to a number o f particular ideas.‘ It is

,I know

,a point much insisted on

,that all know

ledge and demonstration are about universal notions,to

which I fully agree . But then it does not a car to methat those notions are

signified or represenmd .bya; .hymm m m mfitI demons supposed

that I have in v iew the universal idea o f a triangle whichought no t to be understood as if I could frame an idea o f

a triangle which was ne ither equilateral,nor scalenon, nor

equicrural but only that the particular triangle I consider,whether o f this or that sort it matters not, doth equally standfo rand represent all rectil ineal triangles whatsoever, and is

1 Works , i. 78.


in that sense universal . All which seems very plain and notto include any difliculty in it.

’ 1 ‘ It must be acknowledgedthat a man may consider a figure merely as triangular ;without attending to the particular qualities o f the angles,or relations o f the sides. So far he may abstract. Inlike manner we may consider Peter so far forth as man , o rso far forth as an imal, without framing the aforementionedabstract idea, ei ther o f man or o f an imal inasmuch as allthat i s perceived is not considered .

’ 2 It does not belong toBerkeley’s polemical purpose in the discussion to developthe realistic implications o f his position

,or to Show how

it is that an idea,in itself particular

,is qualified to represent

other particular ideas o f the same class. The abstractterms which he is concerned to inval idate are merelygeneral . O f these the great example is Locke’s abstrac t‘Matter

,

’

from which all particular,and therefore all

general,qualities have been removed . Against such an

abstract idea ’ as this h is critic ism is completely cogent .If,then

,we are not to content ourselves with mere

meaningless words,if the word ‘Matter ’ is to stand fo r

an idea or to have a meaning,we must translate it in to

the particular ideas o f our experience. Abstract from anyo f the concrete objects o f o ur sense-perception all theparticular qualities o f which we become aware only inperception

,and which are therefore dependent fo r their

existence upon perc ipient m ind and what remain s is notthe general or abstract idea o f Matter

,but simply nothing

at all . The reali ty o f all external things consists in theparticular sensations from which they derive their names,and by which they are distinguished from one another ;th ink away these particular ideas

,and the idea o f the

thing vanishes with them . And if i t be obj ected thatMatter must still be postulated as the substratum or supporto f the qual ities

,that the thing ’

is no t to be resolved intothe ‘ qual ities ’ which belong to it, Berkeley retorts withthe question , What can be the support o f ideas or sensations but percipient mind ? The thing is nothing but

1 Principles , Introd., sect. I 5.

1 I bid. , sect. 1 6 (2nd

: 34 ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

and the Principles o f his youth,or in the Alciphron o f his

middle age, or even in the Siris o f his later years, is o necontinued protest . The sceptical tendency was thecharacteristic ev il o f the Lockian philosophy ; the tendeney to material ism and atheism was the characterist icvice o f the age itself. If the interes ts o f the spiritual l ifewere to be secured, if spiri t was not to be reduced to

terms of matter, matter must be reduced to terms o f

Sp IrIt.

With its substantiality,matter loses at the same time

its causal power. If matter consists in ideas , i t isclearly passive

,and the sole agent is seen to be mind o r

spirit. One idea cannot be the cause o f another idea ; i tcan on ly be i ts Sign or symbol

,suggesting it as a word

suggests its meaning to those who have learned what i trepresents. The business o f science is simply the interpretatio n o f these natural sign s

,the study o f this language

o f nature . This new interpretation o f natural causationwhich

,by conv icting the material world o f impoten ce, at

the same time discovers in it the revelation o f the divineSpirit speaking to the spiri t o f man in the language o f

natural signs,is most fully unfolded in Berkeley’s earl iest

work,the Essay towards a New Theory of Vision . The

immediate object o f the treatise was to give a preliminary,and intentionally incomplete

,account o f the do ctrine o f

Immatenalism,which Berkeley

"

had already formulatedifihis own mind

,and o f which he gave a complete exposition

in the Principles,published in the followingyear . Its main

thesis accordingly is that.

the obj ect o f vision is merelycolour or coloured extension and

,since this is obviously

an idea,that the obj ect o f vision is mind-dependent.

The v iew commonly held was that we see much morethan this

,namely

,external obj ects o r distance outward

from the eye . But distance,Berkeley contends, cannot

strictly be seen ; we see on ly coloured points or theends o f the rays o f l ight which reach the eye, not therays themselves . Outness or space is a mere abstractidea ; reduce i t to its concrete particulars, and i t becomes

BERKELEY : THE NEW IDEALISM : 35

the tactual sen sations which are suggested by the visualsensations

,because they have been constantly connected

with the latter in our experience . We do not see distantobjects

,we foresee or expect them ; and ‘ they ’ are not

so much future objects o f vision as future objects o f touch .

‘ In treating o f Vision,

’ he tells us in the later V indicationo f the theory

,

‘ it was my purpose to consider the efi cts

and appearances,the obj ects perceived by my senses, the

ideas o f sight as connected with those o f touch to inquirehow one idea comes to suggest another belonging to adifferent sense

,how th ings visible suggest things tangible,

how present things suggest things more remote and future,whether by likeness

,by necessary connexion

,by geo

metrical inference,o r by arbitrary institution .

’ 1

So far as the problem o f the mere psychology o f visionis concerned

,Locke had suggested and

,to a certain extent,

anticipated Berkeley’s solution in a well-known passage.‘ The ideas we receive by sensation are often

,in grown

people,altered by the judgment

,without our taking

notice o f i t. When we set before our eyes a roundglobe o f any uniform colour

,e.g. gold, alabaster, or j et,

it is certain that the idea thereby imprinted on ourm ind is o f a flat circle

,variously shadowed

,with several

degrees o f light and brightness coming to our eyes.But we having

,by use

,been accustomed to perceive what

kind o f appearance convex bodies are wont to make inus ; what alterations are made in the reflections o f lightby the difference o f the sensible figures o f bodies — thejudgment presently

,by an habitual custom

,alters the

appearances into thei r causes. So that from that whichis truly variety o f Shadow or colour

,collecting the figure,

i t makes i t pass fo r a mark o f figure,and fram es to itself

the perception o f a convex figure and an uniform colour ;when the idea we receive from thence is only a planevariously coloured

,as is evident in painting.

” Berkeleycarries the psychological investigation further than Locke

1 The Theory of Visual Language Vindicated and Exp lained,sect. I4.

1 Essay , I I . ix. 8.


had done ; but his own interes t in his theory o f visio n isphi loso phical rather than psychological, and its philoso phical interest fo r us

,if no t fo r his first readers, lies

no t so much in its main thes is o f the mind-depen dentcharacter o f the obj ects o f vision

,in the st rict sense , as

in its formulation,with special reference to vision

,o f

the theo ry o f sense-symbolism . T he data o f sight are

the sign s o f the data o f touch ; and the connexion between the sign and the thing sign ified is as arbitrary as

the connexion between a word and its meaning. Thatthis was Berkeley’s own chief interest in the problemo f vision is ev ident from the following statement : ‘ Howcomes i t to pass that we apprehend by the ideas o f sightcertain other ideas

,which neither resemble them

,no r

cause them,nor are caused by them

,nor have any necessa ry

connexion with them —The solution o f this problem,in

its full extent,doth comprehend the whole Theory o f

Vision . This Stating o f the matter place th it on a newfoot

,and in a different light from all preceding theories .

T o which the proper answer is —That this is done in virtue

ifan arbitrary connexion , institutedby the duthor of Nature.

’ 1

n the Principles this interpretation o f natural causation isgeneralised . ‘The connexion o f ideas does not imply therelation o f cause andefi ct

,but only o f amark or sign w i th

the thing signified. The fire which I see is not the causeo f the pain I suffer upon my approach ing it

,but the mark

that forewarns me o f i t. In like manner the noise that Ihear is not the effect o f this or that motion or coll ision o f

the ambient bodies,but the Sign thereof. Hence

,i t

is evident that those th ings which,under the notion o f a

cause co -operating or concurring to the production o f

effects,are altogether inexplicable and run us into great

absurdities,may be very naturally explained, and have a

proper and obvious use assigned to them,when they are

considered only as marks or signs fo r our information .

And it is the searching after and endeavouring to understand this Language (if I may so call it) o f the Author o f

1 The Theory of Visual Language Vindicated and Explained, sects .

i38 ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

extended to signify everything we know or have anynodon o £

’ 1

In the Third Dialogue between Hylas and Philonous

Berkeley has anticipated Hume’s criticism that the sameobjections which Berkeley has urged against the existenceo f material substance are applicable to his own co n ception o f Spiritual substance. You acknowledge you have,properly speaking

,no idea o f your own soul . You even

affi rm that spirits are a sort o f beings altogether differentfrom ideas. Consequently that no idea can be l ike aspirit. We have therefore no idea o f any spiri t. Youadm i t nevertheless that there is a spiritual Substance,although you have no idea o f i t ; while you deny therecan be such a thing as material Substance, because youhave no notion o r idea o f i t. IS th is fair dealing ? T o

act consistently,you must either admit Matter o r rej ect

Spirit. What say you to this ?’ Berkeley’s answer is that

the cases differ in two all- important respects. First, thenotion o f matter

,as the unthinking support o f ideas, is

‘ repugnant ’ or self-contradictory,whereas ‘ it is no

repugnancy to say that a perceiving thing Should be thesubject o f ideas

,or an active thing the cause o f them .

’

Secondly,while ‘ I have no reason fo r believing the

existence o f Matter,

’ ‘ the being o f my Self,that is

,my

own soul,mind

,o r th inking principle

,I evidently know

by reflexio n .

’ Hylas still obj ects : ‘ Notwithstand ing allyou have said

,to me it seems that

,according to your

own way o f th inking, and in consequence o f your ownprinciples

,i t should follow that you are only a system o f

floating ideas,without any substance to support them .

Wo rds,are not to be used without a mean ing. And, as

there is no more meaning in spiritual Substance than inmaterial Substance

,the one is to be exploded as well as

the other . ’ Berkeley’s reply,in the person o f Philo nous,

is as follows : ‘ How often must I repeat,that I know

o r am conscious o f my own being ; and that I myself amnot my ideas

,but somewhat else, a thinking, active

1 Princip les , sect. 89.

BERKELEY : THE NEW IDEALISM 1 39

principle that perceives,knows

,wills

,and operates about

ideas . I know that I,o ne and the same self, perceive

both colours and sounds : that a colour cannot perceivea sound

,nor a sound a colour : that I am therefore one

individual principle,distinct from colour and sound and,

fo r the same reason,from all other sensible things and

inert ideas. But,I am not in like manner conscious

e ither o f the existence or essence o f Matter. On thecontrary

,I know that nothing inconsistent can exist

,and

that the existence o f matter implies an inconsistency .

Farther,I know what I mean when I affirm that there

is a spiritual substance or support o f ideas, that is, thata Spirit knows and perceives ideas. But

,I do not know

what is meant when it is said that an unperceiv ing sub

stance hath inheren t in i t and supports either ideas orthe archetypes o f ideas. There is therefore upon thewhole no parity o f case between Spirit and Matter.

’ 1

In the second place,Berkeley finds in Spirit the only

real cause or power. In this case also we have no‘ idea,

’

but a ‘ notion .

’ ‘ Such is the nature o f Spiri t,or that

which acts,that i t cannot be o f i tself perceived

,but only

by the effects which i t produceth. So far as I cansee

,the words

,will

,understanding, mind, soul

,spirit

,do

not stand fo r d ifferent ideas,or

,in truth

,fo r any idea

at all,but fo r something which is very different from

ideas,and which

,being an agent

,cannot be l ike unto

,

o r represented by, any idea whatsoever. Though it mustbe owned at the same time that we have some notion o f

soul, Spiri t, and the operations o f the mind,such as

will ing,loving

,hating— inasmuch as we know or under

stand the meaning o f these words. I find I can exciteideas in my mind at pleasure

,and vary and shift the scene

as o ft as I think fit. It is no more than willing, andstraightway this or that idea arises in my fancy ; and bythe same power it is obli terated and makes way fo ranother. This making and unmaking o f ideas doth veryproperly denominate the mind active . Thus much is

1 Wo rks , i. -

451 .


certain and grounded on experience : but when we talko f unthinking agents

,or o f exciting ideas exclusive o f

volition,we only amuse ourselves with words.’ 1 S im i larly

,

the existence o f other finite Spiri ts is at least a probableinference

,

‘ if we see signs and effects indicating distinctfinite agents l ike ourselves

,and see n o S ign or symptom

whatever that leads to a rational belief o fMatter.’ 1 Themost convincing ground o f belief in the existence o f our

fellow-men is their Speaking to us, and we have thesame ground fo r bel iev ing in the existence o f God

,who

Speaks to us in the universal sense- symbolism o f Nature.The test o f reality is external ity

,in the sense that the

ideas are produced in our minds by no activity o f our

own,but by another Spiri t

,and produced in such a

constant and uniform manner that,arbitrary as the

connexion between them is,we learn to predict what

will actually happen,and find that we are l iving in a

world that is identical with,in the sense o f Similar to ,

that o f our fellow-men . The significant and interpretablecharacter o f the ideas presented to us in sense-experiencepoints to reason, as well as will, in its Author. Thepermanence and continuity that characterise our changingexperience find their explanation in the reasonable constancy o f the div ine Will which is actively present in i tall . The world is a constant creation ; the infiniteSpirit is ever speaking to the Spirits o fmen .

Such,in brief outline

,is Berkeley’s bold and brill iant

youthful speculation as to the nature o f the material worldand its relation to man and God . The rel igious interestwhich i spired it finds i ts complete satisfaction in theresult. 7The great obstacle which had prevented man ’sapprehe

’

nsion o f God was independent Matter. Thatremoved

,sense is no veil that obscures the vision o f God

,

but rather the transparent medium o f the div ine selfrevelation .

‘ Spirit with spirit can meet,

’ God can speakwith man face to face. W i th this satisfying result

1 Principles , sects . 27, 28.

1 Works, i. 450 .


myself concerned,as well as I am able

,to defend and

explain it,at a time wherein Atheism hath made a greater

progress than some are will ing to own or others tobelieve .’ 1 The theory offers

,he says

,a new argu

ment o f a singular nature in proof o f the immediateCare and Prov idence o f a God

,present to our minds

,and

directing our actions.”The Third D ialogue is devoted to the question o f

the nature o f V i rtue,and is directed against Shaftes

bury’s theory. While the discussion is v itiated bym isrepresentation o f his opponent’s position

,i t suppl ies

some interesting suggestions as to its author’s ethicalviews. It has been said that there is no real connexionbetween these and his metaphysical position .

‘ B ishopBerkeley

,

’ says Mr. Selby-Bigge,

‘ was a most metaphysical person with very interesting v iews o n the relationo f human and divine reason

,which at once suggest to us

consequences o f the most vital importance fo r morals, butthe ethical portions o f his writings might

,to all appear

ance,have been written by Paley.

” But Berkeley hashimself suggested that his war against abstractions mighthave been carr ied into the sphere o f eth ics as well as intothat o f natural philosophy and o f metaphysics. ‘Whatit is fo r a man to be happy

,or an obj ect good, every

one may th ink he knows. But to frame an abstractidea o f happiness

,prescinded from all particular pleasure

,

or o f goodness from everything that is good,this is what

few can pretend to . So likewise a man may be justand virtuous without having precise ideas o f justice andvirtue . The opin ion that those and the l ike words standfo r general notions, abstracted from all particular personsand actions

,seems to have rendered morality difficult

and the study thereof o f less use to mankind . Andin effect one may make a great progress in school- ethicswithout ever being the wiser or better man fo r i t

,or

know ing how to behave himself in the affairs o f l ifemore to the advantage o f himself or his neighbours than

1 Wo rks , 11 . 379 , 380 .1 Works , I I . 385

1 British Moralists , Introd. , p. xx.

BERKELEY : THE NEW IDEALISM 143

he did before.’ 1 Although he never carried out thehint here conveyed o f a reform o f the science o f ethicson his own lines o f thought about external real ity,he did

,in the discourse on Passive Obedience

,directed

apparently against Locke’s views o f Sovereignty in hisTreatise of Civil Government, investigate the relation o f

th is duty to ‘ the principles o f the Law o f Nature,’

developing the analogy between moral law and the lawso f the divine government o f Nature in a striking andsuggestive way.

The impressive and beautiful words wi th whichBerkeley closes his last philosophical work are singularlyapplicable to h im self. ‘ Truth is the cry o f all

,but the

game o f a few . Certainly,where it is the chief passion ,

i t doth not give way to vulgar cares and v iews ; nor is itconten ted with a little ardour in the early time o f life ;active

,perhaps

,to pursue

,but not so fi t to weigh and

rev ise. He that would make a real progress in knowledgemust dedicate his age as well as youth

,the later growth

as well as first fruits,at the altar o f Truth .

” In thecomparative quiet and seclusion o f his later years atC loyne he found time and opportunity to

‘ weigh andrev ise ’ the results o f his earlier thinking in the l ight o fpast thought

,the records o f which he seems to have

studied with unabated ardour. The union in him o f thepractical with the Speculative interest

, as well as theintensity o f his consciousness o f the religious significanceo f every element and incident o f human life, is curiouslyillustrated in this final work

,published in 1744, thirty-five

years after the Essay on Vision . It is entitled ‘ S i ris : aChain o f Philosophical Reflexio ns and Inquiries concerning the V i rtues o f Tar-water and divers other subj ectsconnected together and arising one from another .’ I ts

primary concern is with the body and its ills, but itsultimate concern is with the soul . ‘ I f the lute be notwell tuned

,the musician fails o f his harmony. And

,in

1 S iris , sect. 368


our present condition,the operations o f the m ind so far

depend o n the right to ne or goo d condi tion o f its instrument

,that anything which greatly contributes to preserve

or recover the health o f the Body is well worth the

attention o f the Mind . These considerations have movedme to communicate to the public

,the salutary virtues o f

Tar-water ; to which I thought myself indispensablyobliged by the duty every man owes to mankind . And,as effects are linked with their causes

,my thoughts on

this low but useful theme led to farther inquiries, andthose o n to others ; remote perhaps and speculative, butI hope not altogether useless or unentertaining.

’

Living,

he says,

‘ in a remote corner among poor neighbours ,who fo r want o f a regular physician have often recourseto me

,I have had frequent opportunities o f trial

’

; andthe result o f these trials o f i ts v irtues was the convict ionthat he had found in this simple drug the panacea for allthe bod ily ills o f men . The purpose o f the book is atonce to describe the nature o f this panacea and to developthe metaphysical and religious reflections which are suggested by the marvellous properties o f a thing apparently,and in i tself

,so Simple and so ‘ low .

’

Professor Fraser calls Siris ‘ the most curious and profound o f Berkeley’s works.’ 1 It is the most profound inthe sense that it raises questions which had no t occurredto his m ind in the earlier works ; but, as the same writerremarks

,

‘ the gold has to be separated from the dross. ’ 1

As the title suggests,the work is rather a series o f reflex

ions and inquiries’ than a systematic treatise . It is more

like a series o f unconnected notes, such as we find in theyouthful Commonplace Book, than a sustained philo so phical argument

,and it is as difficult as in the case o f the

Cambridge Platonists to extricate the author’s own viewsfrom the mass o f quotation and allusion to older writerswith which its pages are crowded . I f it were not fo r theoccasional occurren ce o f a passage which only Berkeleycould have written we should be apt to question the

1 Wo rks , III. 1 I 7.

1 Berkeley , in Philo so phical Classics,’ p. 198.


the senses and a new exaltation o f purely intellectualinsight. Sense is only the first and lowest step in theascent o f the soul from the world to God

,the meanest

l ink in the Golden Chain that unites the finite to theinfinite Spirit. ‘ The perceptions o f sense are gross ;but even in the senses there is a difference . Thoughharmony and proportion are n o t obj ects o f sense, yet theeye and the car are organs which offer to the m ind suchmaterials by means whereof she may apprehend both theone and the other . By experiments o f sense we becomeacquainted with the lower faculties o f the soul and fromthem, whether by a gradual evolution or ascent, wearrive at the highest. Sense supplies images to memory.

These become subj ects fo r fancy to work upon . Reasonconsiders and judges o f the imaginations. And these actso f reason become new objects to the understanding. Inthis scale

,each lower faculty is a step that leads to one

above i t. And the uppermost naturally leads to theDeity ; which is rather the obj ect o f intellectual knowledge than even o f the discursive faculty

,not to mention

the sensitive. There runs a Chain throughout the wholesystem o f beings. In this Chain o ne l ink drags another.The meanest things are connected with the highest.’ 1

The extreme links o f this Chain are the grossly sensibleand the ‘ purely intell igible .’ The earlier d istinctionbetween the idea and the notion is n ow developed intothe contrast between phenomena ’ or ‘ appearances ’

on the one hand and Ideas ( in the Platonic sense) o r

Real ity o n the other . The senses, instead o f beingregarded as the medium o f the self-reve lation o f thed ivine Spiri t to the human

,are condemned as ve i l ing the

div ine Real ity from o ur Spiri ts. The mind is ‘ depressedby the heaviness o f the an imal nature to which i t ischained ’

; we are ‘ oppressed and overwhelmed by thesenses

,

’ the world o f which is a ‘ region o f darkness anddreams.’ ‘ Sense at first besets and overbears the mind .The sensible appearances are all in all : our reasonings

1 S iris , sect. 303.

BERKELEY : THE NEW IDEALISM 1 47

are employed about them : our desires terminate inthem : we look no farther fo r reali ties or causes ; tillIntellect begins to dawn

,and cast a ray on this shadowy

scene. We then perceive the true principle o f unity,

ident i ty,and existence. Those th ings that before seemed

to constitute the whole o f Being,upon taking an intel

lectual v iew o f th ings, prove to be but fleeting phantoms.’ 1

While Berkeley’s earlier view o f reality, so far at leastas the external world is concerned

,was expressed in the

statement that the esse o f things is percipi,

’ the v iew whichwe find in Siris might rather be expressed in the statement that ‘ the esse o f th ings is concipi.

’Reali ty

,being

rationally constituted,can be apprehended only by

intellect or reason . We know a thing when we understand it ; and we understand it when we can interpret o rtell what it signifies. Str ictly, the sense knows nothing.

We perceive indeed sounds by hearing,and characters by

sight. But we are not therefore said to understand them .

’ 1

As understanding perceiveth not,that is

,doth not hear

,

o r see,or feel

,so sense knoweth not : and although

the m ind may use both sense and fancy,as means

whereby to arrive at knowledge,yet sense or soul

,

so far forth as sensitive, knoweth nothing.” In suchsentences as these we see how Berkeley’s centre o f

speculative interest has changed from the world o f thesenses to that o f intellect o r reason, and et how closelyhis later Idealism is related to his earlier doctrine o f

Immaterialism how the one is rather a development thana negation o f the other. Even in the Principles he hadinsisted upon the interpretability o f the data o f sensation

,

upon their symbolic or sign ificant character,as the feature

which makes science,on the one hand

,and the practical

conduct o f l ife, on the other, possible fo r man . Even inthe Principles he had insisted upon the necessity o f supplemen ting the ‘ idea by the ‘ notion

,

’ the perceptual by theconceptual apprehension o f reality

,holding that only

through such notions can we apprehend relations or

1 S iris , sect. 294.

1 I bid. , sect. 2 53.

1 I bid. , sect. 305.


penetrate to spiritual substance and true causes. But hisearly doctrine o f Immaterial ism

,or o f the sensational

character o f external reality,has lost in terest fo r him

,i n

view o f the higher truth,which now preoccupies him

,

o f the rational constitution o f the universe. In a newand deeper sense he now holds that God Speaks to man

,

not merely in the simple language o f V ision and o f Sense,

but in the deeper and more intimate communion o f thedivine w i th the human Reason .


dictum o f Dr. Johnson,that ‘ his style is not English ;

the structure o f his sentences is French .

’ It can hardlybe doubted that his residence in France during the threeyears o f youth while he was writing the Treatise, andhis resulting fam iliarity with t he French language andl iterature

,had some influence upon his English Style,

and that this influence was one o f the chief factors in hiseducation as a writer.

Perhaps the most competent German historian o f philosophy has characterised Hume as

‘ without doubt theclearest and most unprejudicedas well as the most com prehensive and philosophically the best equipped thinker whomthe English nation has produced . ’ 1 It is in v irtue o f therelentless faithfulness with which he follows out the logicalconsequences o f the empirical poin t o f view that we arecompelled to adm it that in the Treatise of Human Nature

the logic o f empiricism works itself out to i ts inevi tableconclusions. It would be unjust to both Locke and Berkeleyto say that they stopped short o f these con clusions fromtheological or other prejudices. The truth is that empiricismwas only a part o f their philosophy

,the other part being,

as we have seen,o f a rationalistic or ideal istic type ; so

that we cannot describe the sceptical philosophy o f Humeas the complete logical development o f the Lockian andBerkeleyan philosophy

,but only as the logical completion

o f the empirical element in the philosophy o f his predecesso rs. That which had fo r them been a part becomesfo r Hume the whole : he is an empiric ist pure and simple,and he Shows us with singular insight the ultimate meaning and consequences o f pure empiricism . Locke’s empiricism had been limited to the solution o f the problemo f the origin o f the materials or elements o f knowledge ;i t had never occurred to him to give a purely empiricalaccount o f knowledge itself, except in so far as he

thought that the question o f the ‘ original ’

o f knowledge had more than a merely psychological and genetic

1 Windelband, Geschichte der neueren Philosophie, i. 326.

HUME I 5I

significance. Hume disallows the dist inction betweenknowledge and its materials

,and seeks to give an

empirical derivation and explanation o f knowledge itself,

alike on its material and on i ts formal side . Berkeleyhad traced the content o f our knowledge o f the materialworld to its origin in ideas or sensations

,and had denied

the reality o f material substance and o f material cause ;but it had n o t occurred to him to give an empiricalaccoun t o f the principles o f substance and cause . Without a ‘ notional ’ apprehension o f these latter principles

,

knowledge seemed to him impossible, and it was in vindication o f the validity o f their true application that hesought to disprove their applicabili ty to the relations o fthe data o f o ur sensational experience to one another.S imilarly we have seen that neither Locke nor Berkeleywas a me re nom inalist : nom inal ism was only a part o ftheir theory o f knowledge and o f reality. For HumeBerkeley’s doctrine o f the inval idity o f ‘ abstract ideasis ‘ one o f the greatest and most valuable discoveries thathas been made o f late years in the republic o f letters.’ 1 Itis fo r him the whole truth

,and again he shows what are its

full consequences . Once more,the experimental o r psycho

logical method had been the method only o f the SecondBook o f Locke’s Essay it was not the method o f Book IV .

,

to which all that precedes is really introductory andsubsidiary

,and in which alone the solution o f his real

problem o f the nature and lim its o f human knowledge isattempted . Sim i larly fo r Berkeley the experimental orpsychological method seems appropriate to the solution o f

the problem o f the nature o f that experience which wedescribe in abstract terms as knowledge o f the materialworld but he regards that method as inadequate to thesolution o f the deeper problem o f the nature o f thatspiritual reality

,divine and human

,to which he has

found himself experimentally forced to reduce materialreality. Fo r Hume the experimental or psychologicalm e tho d is equally applicable to all questions o f reality or

1 Treatise,bk . i. pt. i. sect. 7.


matters o f fact,

’ the psychological explanation is the onlypossible explanation : the sub - t itle o f the Treatise is ‘ anattempt to introduce the experimental Method o f Reasoning into Moral Subj ects .’

The lim ited scope assigned to the principle o f empiri

cism or sensational ism by Locke and Berkeley,as contrasted

with the unlimited scope assigned to that principle byHume

,may be summarised in the Statement that while

his predecessors had no thought o f reducing reason to

terms o f sensation and experience,but always

,implic itly

and explicitly,assumed the distinction between these to

be ultimate,Hume is a thorough-going empiric ist

,in the

sense that he seeks to give an em pirical account or explanation o f all our so -called ‘ rational ’ judgments

,to

show that these judgments are simply im pressions andideas associated by custom

,expectations developed in us

by experience . The result is that while his predecessorsassume the distinction between the certainties o f knowledge and the probabil ities o f experience

,and devote

themselves to the investigation o f the nature and extento f human knowledge

,Hume sees in our so -called ‘ know

ledge ’ only a fiction to be accounted fo r in terms o f thatexperience which is fo r him the only source o f human‘ understanding

,

’ the only basis o f that probability whichsupersedes o ur imagined knowledge and certainty. Lockeand Berkeley had successively narrowed the range o f

knowledge. Locke had found that there is ‘n o science

o f bodies ’

; that, in the strict Sense, we have no ‘ knowledge o f external real ity that our knowledge is either realand part icular or general and without real significance . Butthat we do know or apprehend truth with certainty, thatintui tion and demonstration are valid forms o f such certainknowledge

,he had never questioned ; these are essential

features in his theory o f knowledge. Berkeley had insisted

,more strenuously than Locke

,upon reducing our

abstract and general knowledge to concrete and particularterms

,o r

,in h is own terminology

,to

‘ ideas ’

; he hadfurther reduced causality

,so far as the external world is

concerned,to sense-symbolism

,and insisted upon the


There are not many references to other writers inHume’s works ; but from the few such references whichdo ‘occur

,as well as from the entire train o f thought, i t is

clear that he finds h is point o f departure in the writingso f his English predecessors. Although the Treatise waswritten during his residence in France

,there are

,in the

metaphysical part o f that work,few traces o f the influence

o f French philosophy,even that o f Descartes. The plan

o f the first Book is modelled on that o f Locke’s Essay , thefour parts being entitled ‘ O f Ideas,

’ ‘ O f the Ideas o f

Space and Time,

’ ‘ O f Knowledge and Probability,’ ‘ O f

the Sceptical and other Systems o f Philosophy.

’ Hume’sobject clearly is to complete

,by correcting and systematis

ing,the philosophy o f Locke and Berkeley. Speaking o f

Locke’s d iscussion o f innate ideas,he says : A like ambiguity

and ci rcumlocution seem to run through that philosopher’sreasonings on this as well as most other subjects. ’ 1 In thesame work he says o f Berkeley Most o f the writings o fthat very ingenious author form the best lesson s o f scepticism

,which are to be found either among the ancient or

modern philosophers,Bayle not excepted . He professes,

however,in his ti tle-page (and undoubtedly with great

truth) to have composed his book against the sceptics aswell as against the atheists and free-thinkers. But thatall his arguments

,though otherwise intended

,are, in real ity,

merely sceptical,appears from this

,that they admit of no

answer and produce no conviction . Their only effect is tocause that momentary amaz ement and irresolution andconfusion

,which is the result o f scepticism .

” ThatHume was fully conscious o f the novel and revolutionarycharacter o f his own views, as substituting sceptic ism ,

the resul t o f a thorough-going empiricism,fo r the

m ixture o f empiric ism and rationalism which he foundin Locke and Berkeley

, is evident from a letter, written afortnight after the publication o f the Treatise

,when he

was waiting impatiently to learn its fate, in which hesays : ‘ Those who are accustomed to reflect on such

1 Enquiry concern ing Human Understanding , sect. ii no te .

1 I bid., sect. xii. pt. i. , no te.

HUME I 55

abstract subjects,are commonly full o f prejudices ; and

those who are unprej udiced are unacquainted with metaphysical reasonings. My principles are so remote fromall the vulgar sentiments on the subject, that were they totake place

,they would produce almost a total alteration

in philosophy and you know,revolution s o f this kind are

not easily brought about. ’ 1

The determination o f Hume’s precise position in philoSophy is rendered much more difficult by the fact that hehas presented his views in two

,considerably divergent,

fo rms first in the Treatise,and later in the two Enquiries.

In an ‘ advertisement ’ prefixed to the posthumous edit iono f the collected Essays, he repudiates the Treatise as a‘ juvenile work

,which the Author never acknowledged

,

’

and desires that henceforth the following Pieces mayalone be regarded as containing his philosophical sentim ents and principles.’ In th is work

,he says

,some negli

gences in his former reasoning and more in the expression,are

,he hopes

,corrected .

’ In a letter to Gilbert Elliot hesays : ‘ I believe the Philosophical Essays contain everything o f consequence relating to the understanding, whichyou would meet with in the Treatise and I give you myadvice against reading the latter. By shorten ing andsim pl ifying the questions

,I really render them much

more complete. Adda dum minuo . The philosophicalprinciples are the same in both ; but I was carried awayby the heat o f youth and invention to publish to o precipitately . So vast an undertaking, planned before I waso n c-and- twenty

,and com posed before twenty-five, must

necessarily be very defective . I have repented my haste ahundred

,and a hundred times.” I n another letter he

confesses ‘ a very great mistake in conduct,viz . my

publishing at all the “ Treatise o f Human Nature,” a

book which pretended to innovate in all the subl imestpaths o f philosophy

,and which I composed before I was

five-and- twenty above all,the positive ai r which prevails

1 Burton’

s Life of Hume, i. 1 05.

1 I bid., i. 337.


in that book,and which may be imputed to the ardour

o f youth,so much displeases me

,that I have not patience

to rev iew it . But what success the same doctrines, betteri llustrated and expressed

,may meet w i th

,adhuc sub judice

lis est.’ 1

While no one will hesi tate to accept Hume’s estimateo f the l iterary superiority o f the Enquiries, it is impossibleto follow his adv ice

,and to substitute the Enquiries fo r the

Treatise. The ‘ corrections ’ which the author himselfacknowledges he has made affect the doctrine to o vitally,at several points

,to warrant us in accepting the later as the

equivalent o f the earlier work. Mr . Selby-Bigge Speakso f ‘ the lower philosophic standard ’

o f the first Enquiry,and attributes this to the avoidance o f difliculties whichwould disturb unnecessarily the confidence o f ordinaryopinion

,and especially to the avoidance o f ‘ the general

question o f the relation o f knowledge and real ity .

’ In thesecond Enquiry, in particular, he detects a very remarkable change o f tone or temper

,which

,even more than

particular statements,leads him to suppose that the system

o fMorals in the Enquiry is really and essentially differentfrom that in the Treatise .” But I cannot help agreeingwith Grimm 1 that

,even in the first Enquiry, the modifica

tions o f view are o f essential importance,and with Pro

fesso r Campbell Fraser that while in the Treatise we haveHume’s statement o f scepticism as the inev itable co n sequence o f the empirical principles which he has adopted,i n the Enquiry we have his

‘ sceptical solution o f scepticaldoubts 4 While the Treatise is undoubtedly the more important work

,and to ignore it would be

,as Mr. Selby

B igge says,

‘ to deprive Hume o f his place among thegreat th inkers o f Europe,

’ to ignore the Enquiry would beto neglect the modifications which later reflection

,and not

mere considerations o f literary effect o r o f popularity,in

duced Hume to make upon the earlier statement o f his

1 Burto n’

s Life, i. 98.

1 In trod. to editio n o f Enquiries , p . xxiii.1 "ur Geschichte des Erkenn tn issproblems , pp. 57 1 - 596.

4 Introd. to Lo cke’

s E ssay , p. cxxxviii.


The philosophical significance o f this thesis is developedin the sequel o f the argument

,both in the Treatise and

in the Enquiry, and is thus summarised in the latterwork : ‘ Here

,therefore

,is a proposit ion

,which not

only seem s,in itself

,Simple and intelligible ; but, if a

proper use were made o f it,might render every d ispute

equally intelligible,and banish all that jargon

,which has

so long taken possession o f metaphysical reasonings,and

drawn disgrace upon them . When we entertain,

therefore,any suspicion that a philosophical term is

employed without any meaning or idea (as is but to ofrequent) , we need but enquire, from what impression is

that supposed idea derived? And if it be impossible to

assign any,this will serve to confirm our suspicion . By

bringing ideas into so clear a light we may reasonablyhope to remove all dispute

,which may arise, concerning

their nature and reality.

’ 1

In the Treatise Hume further distinguishes impressionso f sensation from those o f reflexio n

,and points out an

important difference in their origins, which leads to amodification o f the general thesis as to the relation o f

ideas to impress ions. ‘The first kind,

’ he says,

‘ arisesin the soul originally

,from unknown causes. The second

is derived in a great measure from our ideas,and that

in the fo llowing order. An impression first strikes uponthe senses

,and makes us perceive heat or cold, th irst o r

hunger,pleasure or pain o f some kind or other . O f this

impression there is a copy taken by the m ind,which

remains after the impression ceases ; and this we call anidea. This idea o f pleasure or pain

,when it returns

upon the soul,produces the new impressions o f desi re and

aversion,hope and fear

,which may properly be called im

pressions o f reflexio n,because derived from it. So

that the impressions o f reflexio n are only antecedent to theircorrespondent ideas but posterior to those o f sensation

,and

derived from them .

’ 1 These ‘ impressions o f reflexio n heotherwise describes as passions

,desires

,and emotions.’

1 Enquiry , sect. ii.1 Treatise, bk . i. pt. i. sect. 2 .

HUME I 59

He also d ist inguishes ideas o f memory from those o f

imagination . In the case o f memory, the idea ‘ retains aconsiderable degree o f its first v ivacity [as an impression],and is somewhat intermediate between an im pression andan idea ’

; in the case o f imagination,

‘ it entirely losesthat v ivacity

,and is a perfect idea. ’ Moreover, ‘ the

imagination is not restrained to the same order and formwith the original impressions ; while the m emory is in amanner tied down in that respect

,without any power o f

variation,

’ its peculiar function being ‘ not to preservethe simple ideas

,but their order and position .

’ 1 Thefreedom o f the imagination in the separation and com

bination o f ideas is,however

,limited

,and a certain

uniformity secured,by a ‘ uniting principle ’

o r‘ bond

o f union ’ among ideas— ‘a gentle force, which com

m o n ly prevails,’ and is the substitute in the imagination

fo r ‘ that inseparable connexion,by which they are

united in our m emory.

’ Here is a kind o f ATTRACT ION,

which in the mental world will be found to have as extraordinary effects as in the natural, and to Show itself in asmany and as various forms. ’ The ‘ principles o f association he finds to be Resemblance

,Contiguity in t ime or

place,and Causation ; and these principles o f association

become fo r him the chief factors in the explanation o f

our so -called knowledge o f reali ty .

Ideas may be related to one another either naturally,’

according to the principles o f association just named,or

‘

philOSOphically,’ that is

,scientifically

,accord ing to the

different ways in which we see fi t to compare them .

These philosophical relations are seven in number,

nam ely,resemblance

,identity

,Space and time

,quantity

o r number,degrees in quality

,contrariety (existence and

n o n -existence), and causation . O f four o f these relations,namely

,resemblance

,contrariety

,degrees in quality, and

proportions in quantity or number, we have certainknowledge ; the other three, namely, identity, situationsin time and place, and causation, are cases o f mere

1 Treatise, bk . i. pt. i. sect. 3.


probabili ty. In the former,the relation depends solely

upon ideas,

’ and accordingly is ‘ the foundation o f

science ’

; in the latter it ‘ depends not upon the idea,and may be absent or present even while that remains thesame.’ In the Enquiry this dist inction is stated as o nebetween relations o f ideas and matters o f fact .’ 1

Hume’s problem is,l ike Locke’s

,to determ ine the

nature and val idity o f our reason ings about matters o ffact

,or

,in his own language, the relation between ideas

and impressions. What,he asks

,is the validity o f any

‘ conclusion beyond the impressions o f our senses ? ’

What is the nature o f that evidence which assures us o fany real existence and matter o f fact, beyond the presenttestimony o f our senses

,or the records o f our memory 1" 1

Strictly,it is only In the case o f causation that we can be

said to ‘ reason ’ about matters o f fact,since only in that

case does the mind ‘ go beyond what is immediatelypresent to the senses

,either to discover the real existence

or the relations o f obj ects. ’O ur pred ication o f the

invariableness o f the relation o f identity or o f the situation o f the obj ect in space or time will be found to bereally based on the relation o f cause and effect . What,then

,is the nature o f the causal inference ?

That it is not an ‘ inference ’ in the strict sense o f aconclusion fo r which we can give rational grounds

,is

brought out more clearly in the Enquiry 1 than in theTreatise. In the first place

,he argues that ‘ the know

ledge o f this relation is not,in any instance

,attained by

reasonings a priori,but arises entirely from experience

,

’

since ‘ no object ever discovers,by the qual ities which

appear to the senses,ei ther the causes which produced it,

or the effects which will arise from it.’ ‘ The m ind can

never possibly find the effect in the supposed cause,by the

most accurate scrutiny and examination . Fo r the effectis totally different from the cause

,and consequently can

never be discovered in it. ’ As Berkeley had argued,the

1 Sect. iv. pt. i.1 Enquiry , sect. iv. pt. i.

1 I bid., sect. iv.


When the mind, therefore, passes from the idea or im

pression o f one obj ect to the idea or belief o f another,

i t is not determined by reason,but by certain principles

,

which associate together the ideas o f these obj ects, and

un ite them in the imagination . Had ideas no more un ionin the fancy than obj ects seem to have to the understanding

,we could never draw any inference from causes to

effects,no r repose bel ief i n any matter o f fact. The

inference,therefore

,depends solely on the union o f

ideas. Thus tho’ causation be a philosophical relation,

as implying contiguity, succession, and constant co njunction

,yet ’tis o nly so far as it is a natural relation

,and

produces an un ion among our ideas,that we are able to

reason upon it, or draw any inference from it .

’ 1

While the repetition o f the same impressions in thesame relation to one another does not, in a sense, addanything to our experience

,and would no t afford the

basis o f a rational inference which is not already affordedby the first instance o f the related impressions

,yet Hume

finds that the repetit ion does produce a new impression,

and by that means the idea,which I at present exam ine.

Fo r after a frequent repetition, I find,that upon the

appearance o f one o f the obj ects, the mind is determinedby custom to consider its usual attendant

,and to consider

i t in a stronger light upon account o f i ts relation to thefirst obj ect. ’Tis this impression

,then

,or determination,

which affords me the idea o f necessity.’ The seat o f

necessity is in the mind,not in the obj ect. ‘ Either we

have no idea o f necessity, or necessity is nothing butthat determination o f the thought to pass from causes toeffects

,and from effects to causes

,according to their

experienced union .

’ The distribution o f the obj ectiveand subj ective factors in the process is admirablymarised in the statement that obj ects bear to each otherthe relations o f contiguity and succession ; that like o h

jects may be o bserv’

d in several instances to have l ikerelations ; and that all this is independent o f, and ante

1 Treatise, bk . i. pt. iii. sect. 6.

HUME 63

cedent to the Operations o f the understanding. But ifwe go any farther

,and ascribe a power or necessary co n

nexio n to these obj ects ; this is what we can neverobserve in them

,but must draw the idea o f i t from what

we feel internally in contemplating them .

’ 1

The resulting belief differs from other ideas simply inthe manner in which it is conceived ; i t is only ‘ anadditional force and vivacity ’ that ‘ distinguishes the ideaso f the judgment from the fictions o f the imagination .

’ Abelief may therefore be defined as a lively idea related toor associated with a present impression ’

; and it derivesits additional force and v ivacity from the impression withwhich it is associated . Resemblance or contiguity maylend an added Strength to the associat ion education orpassion may have the same influence as constant co njunction . But

,in any case

,belief is a matter o f feel ing

,not

o f rational insight . ‘ Thus all probable reasoning is

nothing but a Species o f sensation .

’

T is no t solely inpoetry and music

,we must follow our taste and sentiment

,

but likewise in philosophy. When I am convinced o f

any principle,

’tis only an idea

,which strikes more

strongly upon me. When I give the preference to oneset o f arguments above another

,I do nothing but decide

from my feel ing concern ing the superiority o f theirinfluence. Obj ects have no discoverable connexiontogether ; n o r is i t from any other principle but customoperating upon the imagination, that we can draw anyinference from the appearance o f one to the existence o fanother.” ‘ T o consider the matter aright

,reason is

nothing but a wonderful and unintelligible instinct in oursouls

,which carries us along a certain train o f ideas

,and

endows them with particular qual ities,accord ing to their

particular si tuations and relations.’ 1

Hume concludes his account o f causation by offeringa few general ‘ rules by which to judge o f causes andeffects. ’ In these rules b e anticipates, in a ratherremarkable way

,the later methods o f inductive reason

1 Treatise, b k . i. pt. iii. sect. 14.1 I bid. , bk . 1. pt. iii. sect. 8.

1 I bid., bk . i. pt. iii. sect. I 6.


ing, as formulated by Mill and others, but he states

them in the most summary fashion,concluding : Here

is all the LOGIC I think proper to employ in my reasoning ; and perhaps even this was not very necessary, butmight have been supply

’

d by the natural principles o f

our understanding. Our scholastic headpieces and logicians Show no such superiority above the mere vulgar intheir reason and abi l ity

,as to give us any inclination to

imitate them in delivering a long system o f rules andprecepts to direct our j udgment

,in ph ilosophy . All the

rules o f this nature are very easy in their invention,but

extremely difficult in their appl ication ; and even experimen tal philosophy, which seems the most natural andsimple o f any

,requires the utmost stretch o f human

judgment.’ 1

The problem o f Substance is fo r Hume,as we have

seen,a minor one

,as compared with the central problem

o fCausation and is dealt with only in the Treatise.

1 Butthe discussion is no less subtle than the more elaboratetreatment o f Causation . First, as regards material substance

,o r the existence o f body

,

’ the question is not,he

says,Whether there be body or not ? ’ but What causes

i nduce us to bel ieve in the existence o f body ? ’ Thisquestion breaks up into two : ‘Why we attribute acontinued existence to obj ects

,even when they are not

present to the senses ; and why we suppose them to havean existence distinct from the mind and perception .

’

These two questions are so intimately connected that‘ the decision o f the one question decides the other ’

: if

the obj ects o f perception have a continued existence,they have also an independent existence

,and conversely .

Hume agrees wi th Berkeley that neither in perception norin reason do we find any grounds for belief i n the co n

tinuous or independent existence o f mater ial things : forus their esse is percipi. That belief, therefore, he concludes,must be the product o f the imagination. The imagination

1 Treatise, bk . i. pt. iii. sect. 15.1 Bk . i. pt. iv. sect. 2 .


instead o f substituting a sounder v iew, is a relapse intothe old contradiction

,which Berkeley has exposed, o f

distinguishi the object as existent from the object o fperceptI

The o phicaldogma o f Spiri tual substance is, Humefinds

,equally indefensible with that o f material substance .

His challenge to those who ‘ imagine we are every momentintimately conscious o f what we call our SELF is

,as usual

,

that they point out the impression from which this idea isderived . But self or person is n o t any one impression,but that to which our several impressions and ideas are

supposed to have reference. If any impression gives riseto the idea o f self, that impression must continue invariablythe same

,thro’ the whole course o f our l ives ; since self is

supposed to exist after that manner. But there is no impression constant and invariable.’ All that we find ino ur conscious experience is a succession o f particular, everchanging perceptions

,— impressions and ideas. ‘ For my

part,when I enter most intimately into what I call myself,

I always Stum ble on some particular perception or other,o f heat or cold

,l ight or shade

,love or hatred

,pain or

pleasure. I never can catch myself at any time without aperception

,and never can observe anyth ing but the per

ception .

’ Men may call themselves persons,but in

real ity ‘ they are nothing but a bundle or collection o f

different perceptions,which succeed each other with an

inconceivable rapidi ty,and are in a perpetual flux and

movement . The mind is a kind o f theatre,where

several perceptions successively make their appearance ;pass

,re-pass

,glide away

,and mingle in an infinite variety

o f postures and Si tuations. There is properly no simplicityin it at one time

,nor identity in different ; whatever

natural propension we may have to imagine that Simplic i tyand identity. The comparison o f the theatre must n o tmislead us. They are the successive perceptions only

,

that constitute the mind ; nor have we the most distantnotion o f the place, where these scenes are represented,or o f the materials

,o f which it is composed .

’ Theexplanation o f the i llusion o f personal identity is the same

HUME 1 67

as in the case o f that o f material substance. In the o necase as in the other

,a variable and interrupted existence

is m istaken by the imagination fo r an invariable and uninterrupted existence ; related obj ects are mistaken,because related

,fo r identical objects. Identity is nothing

really belonging to these different perceptions,and uniting

them together ; but is merely a quali ty, which we attribute to them

,because o f the un ion o f their ideas in the

imagination,when we reflect upon them . Our notions

o f personal identi ty proceed entirely from the smooth anduninterrupted progress o f the thought along a train o f

connected ideas. ’ 1

The difficulty immediately suggested by this account o fthe genesis o f the idea o f personal identity is

,How can a

series o f perceptions thus remember the preceding andrelate them causally to the present perceptions ? Theinadequacy o f the constructive part o f his theory, whethero n this or some other ground

,seems to have forced itself

upon Hume himself,fo r in the Appendix

,which he added

in the following year to the third volume o f the Treatise, hesays : ‘ Upon a more Strict review o f the section co n

cern ing personal identity, I find myself involved in such alabyrinth

,that

,I must confess

,I neither know how to

correct my former Opinions, nor how to render them consistent. ’

So far as the negative part o f his argument isconcerned

,he is still satisfied with it. ‘ But hav ing thus

loosened all our particular perceptions,when I proceed to

explain Ithe principle o f connexion,which binds them

together,and makes us attribute to them a real Simplicity

and identity ; I am sensible,that my account is very

defective,and that nothing but the seeming evidence o f

the precedent reasonings could have induced me to receiveit . All my hopes vanish

,when I come to explain

the principles,that unite our successive perceptions in our

thought or consciousness. I cannot discover any theory,which gives me satisfaction on this head. Fo r mypart

,I must plead the priv ilege o f a sceptic, and confess,

that this d ifficulty is too hard fo r my understanding. I1 Treatise, b k . i. pt. iv . sect. 6.


pretend no t, however, to pronounce it absolutely insuperable . O thers

,perhaps

,o r myself

,upon more mature

reflections,may discover some hypothesis, that will reco n

ci le those contradictions . ’ That Hume did not discoverany such hypothesis

,and that his sense o f the difficulty

had meanwhile rather increased than diminished,appears

from the absence o f the entire discussion from the Enquiry,published eight years later.That

,in th is theory o f the self

,we have the logical

i ssue o f the nominalistic and empirical tendency so

prominent in the philosophy o f Hume’s English predecessors, Locke and Berkeley, is ev ident from a Sign ifican tStatement in the Appendix from which I have just quotedWe can conceive a thinking being to have either manyor few perceptions. Suppose the mind to be reduced evenbelow the l ife o f an oyster. Suppose it to have only o n eperception

,as o f thirst or hunger. Consider it in that

Si tuation . Do you conceive anything but merely thatperception ? Have you any notion o f self or substance ?If not

,the addition o f other perceptions can never give

you that notion .

’ It does not occur to him that a Singleor wholly unrelated perception would be as good as none

,

or that the conception o f self is necessitated by the veryplurality o f perceptions

,

’ not the mere ‘ addition of otherperceptions ’

but their combination or relation—the factthat the plurality o f perceptions is experienced as a unity

,

o r i n one consciousness,which is what we mean by self.

Thus, so far as reality or matters o f fact are concerned,Locke’s d istinction between knowledge and belief

,between

certainty and probabil ity,is inval idated by Hume. What

we had supposed to be knowledge is seen to be onlybelief ; what had seemed to be certainty is seen to beonly probabil ity.

‘ All knowledge resolves itself intopro babilit and becomes at last o f the same nature withthat eviciiznce, which we employ in common life.’ 1

What we had supposed to be reasoning turns out to be

1 Treatise, bk . i. pt. iv. sect I .


return to these speculations, they appear so cold,and

strained,and ridiculous

,that I cannot find in my heart to

enter into them any farther . ’ 1 In surrendering himse lfto this natural tendency to belief

,the ph ilosophical scep tic

consistently maintains his scepticism . I may,nay I must

yield to the current o f nature,in submitting to my senses

and understand ing ; and in this bl ind submiss ion I Showmost perfectly my sceptical disposition and principles .

’

Indolently to resign oneself to ‘ the current o f nature ’

i s the very perfection o f sceptic ism. In all the incidentso f life we ought st ill to preserve our scepticism . If we

bel ieve,that fire warms

,o r water refreshes

,

’tis onlybecause it costs us to o much pains to think otherwise.Nay if we are philoso phers

,i t ought only to be upon

sceptical principles,and from an incl ination

,which we

feel to the employing ourselves after that manner.’ ‘ Atrue sceptic will be difliden t o f his philoso phical doubts,as well as o f his philosophical conv iction ; and will neverrefuse any innocent sa t isfaction, which ofi

'

ers itself, uponaccount o f either o f them.

’ 1

In the Enquiry Hume strikes a more positive note, andattempts the ‘ sceptical solution ’

o f his sceptical doubts.He insists upon the merely theoretical Sign ificance o f hisscepticism. We need not fear ‘ that this phi losophy,while it endeavours to limit our enquiries to common life,Should ever undermine the reasonings o f common life, andcarry its doubts so far as to destroy all act ion, as well asspeculation .

’ ‘ Custom is the great guide o f human life.It is that principle alone which renders our experienceuseful to us

,and makes us expect

,fo r the future, a Similar

train o f events with those which have appeared in the

past.’ In the fact that our expectations are determined bythe constant conjunctions o f our past experience he evenfinds assurance o f the real Significance o f our reasoningsabout matters o f fact. ‘ Here

,then

,is a kind o f pre

established harmony between the course o f nature andthe succession o f our ideas ; and though the powers and

Treatise, bk . i. pt. iv . sect. 7.

1 Loc. cit.

HUME I 7I

forces,by which the former is governed, be wholly un

known to us yet our thoughts and conceptions have still,we find

,gone on in the same train wi th the other works

o f nature . Custom is that principle,by which this corre

spo ndence has been affected ; so necessary to the subsistence o f our species

,and the regulation o f our conduct,

i n every circumstance and occurrence o f human l ife.Had not the presence o f an object instantly excited theidea o f those objects

,commonly conjoined with it

,all our

knowledge must have been limited to the narrow Sphereo f our memory and senses ; and we should never havebeen able to adjust means to ends

,or employ our natural

powers,either to the producing o f good, or avoiding o f

evil . ’ 1 And the lesson which he draws from our inevitable ignorance o f the ‘ nature o f things is the samelesson as Locke had drawn from the narrow limitso f human knowledge

,namely

,

‘ the limitation o f ourenquiries to such subj ects as are best adapted to thenarrow capacity o f human understanding. A correctj udgement, avoiding all distant and high enquiries,confines itself to common life

,and to such subj ects as fall

under daily practice and experience ; leaving the moresublime topics to the embe llishment o f poets and orators,or to the arts o f priests and politicians. T o bring us to sosalutary a determ ination

,nothing can be more serv iceable,

than to be once thoroughly convinced o f the force o f thePyrrhonian doubt

,and o f the impossib ili ty, that anything,

but the Strong power o f natural instinct, could free us

from it. While we cannot give a satisfactory reason,why we believe

,after a thousand experiments, that a

stone will fall,or fire burn can we ever satisfy ourselves

concern ing any determination,which we may form, with

regard to the origin o f worlds,and the situation o f nature,

from,and to eternity ?”

The entire sceptical argument has reference, i t will beremembered

,only to our reasonings about matters o f fact,

1 Enquiry concern ing Human Understanding , sect. v. pt. I I .2I bid. , sect. xii. pt. iii.


and does not affect our knowledge o f the relations o f ideas.Hume holds

,with Locke, that while certain general pro

positions are merely verbal o r‘ trifl ing

,

’ consisting inidentical Statements or definitions o f term s

,certain others

are instructive,in Spite o f their general ity . O f th is type

are the propositions which constitute ‘ the sc iences o f

Geometry,Algebra

,and Arithmetic. ’

Propositions o f thiskind are discoverable by the mere Operation o f thought,W ithout dependence on what is anywhere existent in theun iverse . Though there never were a circle or triangle innature, the truths demonstrated by Eucl id would fo rever retain their certaintyand evidence . ’ 1 While the Treatise closeswithout explic it reference to the exclusion o f the abstractsciences ’

from the scope o f the sceptical conclusions o fthat work

,the Enquiry contains an explici t Statement on

the subject,which is in keeping with its more positive

spirit . ‘ It seems to me,that the only obj ects o f the

abstract Sciences or o f demonstration are quantity andnumber

,and that all attempts to extend this more perfect

Species o f reasoning beyond these bounds are meresophistry and illusion . AS the component parts o f

quantity and number are entirely Similar, their relationsbecome intricate and involved ; and nothing can be morecurious

,as well as useful

,than to trace

,by a variety o f

mediums,their equality or inequality, through their

different appearances. But as all other ideas are clearlydistinct and different from each other

,we can never

advance farther,by our utmost scrutiny

,than to observe

this d iversity,and

,by an obvious reflection

,pronounce

one thing not to be another . It is the same casewith all those pretended syllogistical reasonings

,which

may be found in every other branch o f learning, exceptthe sciences o f quantity and number ; and these maysafely

,I think

,be pronounced the only proper objects o f

knowledge and demonstration .

’ 1

In the Treatise,however

,i t is clear that Hume dis

allows the exactitude o f geometrical truth . He there

1 Enquiry , sect. iv. pt. i. 2 I bid., sect. xII . pt. iii.


in which we can carry on a chain o f reasoning to anydegree o f intricacy

,and yet preserve a perfect exactness

and certainty.

’ 1 Even in the case o f geometry, however,Hume holds that its mistakes can never be o f any co nsequence.

’ ‘ And this,

’ he says,

‘ is the nature and use o f

geometry,to run us up to such appearances

,as,by reason

o f their simplici ty,cannot lead us into any considerable

error .”

Hume devotes the two remaining Books o f the Treatiseto that ‘ Human Nature ’ which ‘ is the only science o f

man,and yet has been hitherto the most neglected .

’

Book II . is concerned with the anatomy o f the Passions,

Book III . with Morals. The former is full o f psychological interest

,and distinguished by its i lluminat ing re

marks o n the subtler play o f the elemental passion s o f

our nature,but is not so directly the basis o f the ethical

theory offered in Book III. as to make any detailed accounto f i t necessary to the understanding o f the latter. In

making the two leading principles Pride and Humility,

on the one hand,and Love and Hatred o n the other

,

Hume foreshadows the two govern ing principles o f hisethical theory

,self-regard and benevolence. In the im

portance he attaches to sympathy and in his reduc

tion o f the confl ict between reason and passion to a

confl ict between the calm and the violent passions,he at

once applies the principles o f Book I . and anticipates theethical teaching o f Book III . The latter point is arguedwith no l ittle insight. ‘We Speak not strictly and philosophically when we talk o f the combat o f passion and o f

reason . A passion must be accompan ied with somefalse judgment, in order to i ts being unreasonable ; andeven then ’tis not the passion

,properly speaking

,which

is unreasonable,but the judgment. The consequences are

ev ident . S ince a passion can never, in any sense, be calledunreasonable, but when founded on a false suppos i tion, orwhen it chuses means insufficient fo r the designed end

,

1 Treatise, bk . i. pt. iii. sect. I .1 Loc. cit.

HUME I 75’tis impossible that reason and passion can ever opposeeach other

,o r dispute fo r the government o f the will and

actions. The moment we perceive the falsehood o f anysupposi tion

,or the insufficiency o f any means, our passions

yield to our reason without any opposition .

’ 1 Finally heseeks to Show the truth o f the doctrine o f Book I. 1 thatthere is but one kind o f necessity, as there is but one kindo f cause

,and that the common distinction between moral

and physical necessity is without any foundation in nature,’

arguing that the‘ l iberty attr ibuted to moral agents is the

same thing as chance,’ which simply means that the

cause is unknown . The same argument is repeated inthe Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, where it isconnected immediately with the general account o f causat ion

,and the attempt is made to Show that such a view

is compatible,as the doctrine o f L iberty is not

,with our

ordinary judgments about human conduct and our ordinaryconceptions o f moral responsibil ity.

1

The connexion o f the general psychology o f the passionswith the ethical theory becomes more clear when wetake account o f Hume’s Opposi tion to the view

,common

to Locke and Cudworth,that ethics is a purely rational

sc ience,l ike mathematics. ‘There has been an opinion

very industriously propagated by certain philosophers, thatmorality is susceptible o f demonstration and tho ’ no onehas ever been able to advance a Single Step in those dem o nstratio ns ; yet

’

tis taken fo r granted,that th is sc ience

may be brought to an equal certainty with geometry oralgebra."1 Against ‘ the system which establ ishes eternalrational measures o f right and wrong ’ he urges that the \d istinction is one o f sensibil ity

,not o f reason ; that its

’

basis is to be found,not in the obj ect

,but in the subject .

‘ The vice entirely escapes you,as long as you consider

the obj ect. You never can find it,til l you turn your

reflexio n into your own breast,and find a sentiment o f

d isapprobation,which arises in you

,towards this action .

1 Treatise, bk . 11 . pt. iii. sect. 3.

1 Pt. iii. sect. 14.

1 Enquiry , sect. i i. 1 Treatise, bk . iii. pt. i. sect. I .


Here is a matter o f fact ; but’tis the obj ect o f feeling

,

not o f reason . It l ies in yourself,not in the obj ect. So

that when you pronounce any action or character to bevicious

,you mean nothing

,but that from the constitution

o f your nature you have a feel ing or sentiment o f blamefrom the contemplation o f it.

’ 1 The ‘ ought ’ can neverbe deduced from the ‘ i s

,

’ the ‘ ought not ’from the ‘ i s

not.’ All that reason tells us is what is the tendency o factions

,beneficial or hurtful

,to ourselves or to others ;

i t enables us to decide between ‘ obscure or oppositeuti lities. ’

Sen timent, or a preference o f feeling,alone

can decide in favour o f the end,— the happiness

,as diS

tinguished from the m isery, whether o f ourselves o r o f

others. ‘Morality, therefore, is more properly felt thanjudged o f

’

; i t appeals to a ‘ moral sense ’ or disin terestedpreference o f good to evil . ‘ As virtue is an end

,and is

desirable on its own account,without fee and reward

,

merely fo r the immediate satisfaction which i t conveys ;i t is requisite that there Should be some sentiment whichit touches

,some internal taste or feeling

,o rwhatever you

may please to call i t,which distinguishes moral good and

evil,and which embraces the one and rejects the other.”While Hume appears

,in the Enquiry, to accept the

‘ moral sense ’

v iew,as already formulated by Hutcheson

,

and objects to a to o systematic explanation o f our moraljudgments

,he seeks

,in the Treatise

,to reduce the sentiment

o f moral approval and disapproval to terms o f regard forour own happiness

,explain ing it as a sympathetic appro

priatio n o f the consequences o f our actions fo r the happiness o f others

,and insisting that we ought to aim at

‘ simplicity in moral as in natural philosophy, and not toinvent new principles where old ones are suffic ient.Accordingly we find that while

,in the Treatise

,justice

is regarded as the one great social v irtue,in the Enquiry

benevolence takes precedence o f justice,and is explained

as a general regard fo r the interests o f humanity,as such

the principles o f sympathy and association are no longer

1 Treatise, bk . iii. pt. i. sect. I .

1 Enquiry , App . I .


them Laws qf Nature; if by natural we understand whatis common to any Species

,or even if we confine it to

mean what is inseparable from the species. ’ 1

In the Enquiry, the virtue o f justice is subordinated tothat o f benevolence

,o r disinterested regard fo r the general

happiness,which is accepted as the supreme end on ‘ the

blind,but sure testimony o f taste and sentiment. ’ This

is the result,it is contended

,o f ‘ a natural, unforced

interpretation o f the phenomena o f human life.’ While,in the Treatise

,i t was maintained that ‘ the publ ic

good is indifieren t to us,except so far as sympathy in

terests us i n it,

’ the doctrine o f the Enquiry is that‘ the

voice o f nature and experience seems plainly to opposethe selfish theory.

’ ‘We must renounce the theory,

which accounts fo r every moral sentiment by the principleo f self-love. We must adopt a more pulflic affection,and allow

,that the in terests o f society are no t even o n

their own account,entirely indifferent to us. Every

thing,which contributes to the happiness o f society

,

recommends itself directly to our approbation and goodwill . ’ ‘ It is needless to push our researches so far asto ask

,why we have humanity or a fellow-feeling with

others. It is sufficient, that this is experienced to be aprinciple in human nature . We must stop somewherein o ur exam ination o f causes ; and there are, in everyscience

,some general principles

,beyond which we cannot

hope to find any principle more general . ’ 2

In the second Appendix to the Enquiry Hume baseshis theory o f the disinterestedness o f our regard fo r thehappiness o f others upon a new psychology o f the passions

,which follows very closely Butler’s account o f

the object o f desire and its relation to self-love . Inthe Treatise he had m aintained that ’tis from the prospect o f pain or pleasure that the aversion or propensityarises towards any object.’ 3 He now distinguishes between the original passion, which ‘ points immediately tothe obj ect

,and constitutes it our good or happiness ’ and

1 Treatise, bk . iii. pt. 11. sect. I .

1 Enquiry , sect. v. pt. 11.3 Bk . ii. pt. iii. sect. 3.

HUME 1 79

other secondary passions which afterwards arise and

pursue it as a part o f our happiness.’ Were there noappetite o f any kind antecedent to self- love, that propensity could scarcely ever exert itself ; because weshould

,in that case

,have felt few and slender pains or

pleasures,and have little misery or happiness to avoid

or to pursue . Now where is the difficulty in co nceiv

ing,that this may likewise be the case with benevolence

and friendship,and that

,from the original frame o f our

temper,we may feel a desire o f another’s happiness or

good,which

,by means o f that affection

,becom es our

own good,and is afterwards pursued

,from the combined

motives o f benevolence and self-enjoyments ? Who seesnot that vengeance

,from the force alone o f passion

,may

be so eagerly pursued,as to make us knowingly neglect

every consideration o f ease,interest

,or safety ; and, l ike

some v indictive animals,infuse our very souls into the

wounds we give an enemy ; and what a malignant philosophy must i t be

,that will n o t allow to humanity and

friendship the same priv ileges which are undisputablygranted to the darker passions o f enmity and resentment ;such a philosophy is more like a satyr than a true delineation o r description o f human nature ; and may be a goodfoundation fo r paradoxical wit and raillery

,but is a very

bad o ne fo r serious argument or reasoning.

’

But while the principle o f benevolence or social uti lityis ‘ the sole source o f that high regard paid to justice,fidelity

,honour

,allegiance

,and chastity

,

’ and is insepar

able from all the other social v irtues,humanity

,generosity

,

charity,affabil i ty

,len ity

,mercy

,and moderation

,

’ and istherefore a foundation o f the chief part o f morals, whichhas a refe rence to mankind and our fellow-creatures

,

’ i t isnot fo r Hume

,as fo r Hutcheson

,the all- inclusive ethical

principle ; virtue and benevolence are not convertibleterms. Q ualities o f action and o f character useful o rimmediately agreeable to ourselves are no less praiseworthythan those which are useful or immediately agreeableto others. Happiness is the only ultimate end, but i t maybe either our own or that o f others ; and Hume does n o t


doubt the harmony o f these two ends. And when hecomes

,in the concluding section o f the Enquiry,1 to the

consideration o f obligation,he speaks o f it as ‘ interested

,

’

and identifies the question o f obligation with the question‘ whether every man

,who has any regard to his own

happiness and welfare, will not best find his account inthe practice o f every moral duty.

’ ‘What theory o f

morals can ever serve any useful purpose,unless i t can

show,by a particular detail

,that all the duties which it

recommends,are also the true interest o f each individual

In proof o f the truth o f his own theory he points to theattractive picture o f virtue which it offers, representingher ‘ in all her genuine and most engaging charms

,

’ andmaking us

‘ approach her with ease,familiarity

,and

affection? The sole trouble which she demands,is that

o f just calculation, and a steady preference o f the greaterhappiness. ’

A true psychology o f human passion or propen sity shows that there is no more opposition betweenselfishness and benevolence than between selfishness andany other natural propensi ty,and that the presupposition o fatrue self-love is disinterested interest in the objects o f thesenatural propensities. The only case in which a doubtis possible regarding the coincidence o f v irtue and selfinterest is that o f justice . But in all ingenuous natures

,

the antipathy to treachery and roguery is too strong to becounterbalanced by any v iews o f profit or pecuniaryadvantage. ’ Such natures will indeed ‘ find their accountin v irtue. ‘ Inward peace o f mind

,consciousness o f

integrity,a satisfactory review o f our past conduct ; these

are circumstances very requisite to happiness, and will becherished and cultivated by every honest man

,who feels

the importance o f them .

’

To the restatement o f his philosophical views in thefirst Enquiry Hume added two essays in which he appl iesh is general principles to the solution o f the prob lems o fMiracles

,a Particular Providence and a Future State. It

1 Sect. ix. pt.


draws from the inev itableness o f the process o f degene ration and corruption in religion, from the impossibil ity o f

maintaining the distinction between genuine religion,the

true ally o f morality, and mere supersti tion, its enemy orat best its uncertain friend

,is that o f philosophical in

differentism .

‘ T he whole is a riddle, an e nigma,an

inexplicable mystery . Doubt, uncertainty, suspense o f

j udgment appear the only result o f our most accuratescrutiny concern ing this subj ect. But such is the frail tyo f human reason, and such the i rresistible contagion o f

opin ion,that even this deliberate doubt could scarcely be

upheld ; did we n o t enlarge our view,and opposing o ne

species o f superstit ion to another,set them a quarrell ing ;

while we ourselves, during their fury and contention,happily make our escape into the calm

,though obscure

,

regions o f philosophy.’ 1

The relation o f the two essays, which were added to thefirst Enquiry, to the central phi losophical positions o f thatwork is really much closer than we might at first suppose .

The argument against miracles is based upon the view o f

causation as identical with constant conjunction : amiracle is a contradiction o f the uniformity o f nature towhich all our experience testifies, and is therefore incredible

,no matter what the testimony in its favour may

be. At the same time men ’s tendency to believe in themiraculous is explained in terms o f that human naturewhich is

,accord ing to Hume

,the ultimate term in all

explanation . The argument fo r a particular Providenceand future rewards and punishments rests

,it is argued

,

upon a false v iew o f causation, refusing as i t does tointerpret the cause in the l ight o f the effect and addingcausal factors fo r which we have no warrant in correspo nding effects. It at the same time repudiates theempirical measure o f reality which has been shown to bethe only human measure o f it .In this essay we have, on a smaller scale, Hume

’s v iewso n Natural Theology which are developed more fully in

1 Nat. Hist. qf Religion, sect. xv.

HUME 1 83

the Dialogues on Natural Religion . The position commonto both is neither that o f mere scepticism o r atheism

,on

the one hand,nor that o f theism

,on the other

,but that

o f agnostic deism or,as Professor Campbell Fraser calls

i t,

‘ attenuated theism .

’ The view which is controvertedis that o f a dogmatic and imaginative theism

,based upon

unwarranted anthropomorphism and resulting fromenthusiasm

,

’—z eal uncontrolled by reason or experience.Huxley calls the view advocated in the Dialogues a‘ shadowy and inconsistent theism

,

’ and sees in it ‘ theexpression o f his desire to rest in a state o f mind

,which

distinctly excluded negation,while i t included as l ittle as

possible o f affi rmation,respecting a problem which he

felt to be hopelessly insoluble. ’ 1

The three interlocutors in the Dialogues are suffic ientlycharacterised by Hume himself

,who contrasts ‘ the

accurate philosophical turn o f Cleanthes ’ with ‘the

careless scepticism o f Philo ’ and both with ‘ the rigidinflexib le orthodoxy o f Demea.

’ The aflin it o f the

scepticism o f Philo with the mysticism o f emea isemphasised in the course o f the discussion

,in which

Philo accepts the term ‘ mystic ’ as their common designation ; and so far as these two speakers are concerned,Hume’s intention clearly is to reduce mysticism to seepticism

,or unconscious to conscious scepticism

,and thus

to leave the issue between Phi lo and Cleanthes. Hemakes the narrator o f the conversation say at the close‘ I confess

,that

,upon a serious review o f the whole

,I

cannot but think that Philo’s principles are more probablethan Demea

’

s ; but that those o f Cleanthes approach stillnearer to the truth .

’ In a letter to Gilbert Elliot,already

q uoted, Hume says : You would observe by the sampleI have given you

,that I make Cleanthes the hero o f the

dialogue whatever you can think o f,to strengthen that

side o f the argument,will be most acceptable to me.

Any propensity you imagine I have to the other side,crept in upon me against my will.’ The pos i tion o f

1 Hume, in English Men o f Letters ,’ p. 157.


Cleanthes is that o f a phi losophical theism which infersthe div ine intell igence and goodness from the marks o fpurpose in the world o f our experience. ‘ I could wish,

’

he continues in this letter,Cleanthes’ argument could be

so analysed,as to be rendered quite formal and regular.

The propensity o f the mind towards it,—unless thatpropensity were as strong and universal as that to bel ievein our senses and experience

,—will still

,I am afraid,

be esteemed a suspicious foundation .

’

T is here I wishfo ryour assistance we must endeavour to prove that th ispropensi ty is somewhat different from our inclination tofind our own figures in the clouds

,our faces in the moon ,

our passions and sentiments even in inanimate matter.Such an inclination may

,and ought to be controlled, and

can never be a legit imate ground o f assent. ’ 1 He alsospeaks o f the confusion in which I represent the sceptic,

’

and in a letter to Strahan,wri tten shortly before his death ,

he says,

‘ I there introduce a Sceptic,who is indeed

refuted,and at last gives up the Argument, nay confesses

that he was only amusing himself by all his Cavi ls ; yetbefore he is silenced

,he advances several Topics, which

will give Umbrage,and will be deemed very bold and

free,as well as much out o f the common Road .

”1 In thecourse o f the argument

,however

,i t will be found that

,

as we should expect,Philo’s criticisms are made to tell

heavily upon the positions o f his opponent, which areseriously modified in consequence. The ‘ confusion ’

o f

Cleanthes is no less real than that o f Philo ; indeed, thelatter succeeds in his argument

,so far as it is seriously

intended,and is not a mere argumentum ad hominem.

The question o f the Dialogues is not that o f the

existence,but that o f the nature o f God .

‘ Surely,’ says

Ph ilo, ‘ where reasonable men treat these subjects,the

question can never be concerning the Being, but only theNature o f the Deity. The former truth, as you wellobserve

,is unquestionable and self- evident. Nothing

exists without a cause ; and the original cause o f th is

1 Burton’s Life, i. 331- 3.

2 Letters to S trahan ,p. 330 .


butes which it implies in God—is concerned, Philo is made

ultimately to assent,in a sense

,to the inference to the

div ine intelligence. If we make i t a question, whether,o n account o f these analogies

,we can properly call h im

a mind or intelligence, notwithstanding the vast difference

,which may reasonably be supposed between him

and human minds ; what is this but a mere verbal controversy ? No man can deny the analogies between theeffects : to restrain ourselves from enquiring concern ingthe causes is scarcely possible : from this enquiry, thelegit imate conclusion is

,that the causes have also an

analogy : and if we are not contented with call ing thefirst and supreme cause a God or Deity

,but desire to

vary the expression ; what can we call him but Mind orThought

,to which he is justly supposed to bear a co n

siderable resemblance ? ’ 1 It is the moral part o f theinference that proves intractable. The m isery o f theworld

,and especially o f human life

,may possibly be

compatible with the goodness o f God, but it certainlycannot form the ground o f an inference to his goodness .Why is there any misery at all in the world ? No t bychance surely. From some cause then . Is i t from theintention o f the Deity ? But he is perfectly benevolent .Is i t contrary to his intention ? But he is almighty .

Nothing can shake the solidity o f this reasoning, so short,so clear

,so decisive except we assert

,that these subj ects

exceed all human capacity,and that our common measures

o f truth and falsehood are not applicable to them a topicwhich I have all along insisted on

,but which you have

,

from the beginning,rejected with scorn and indignation .

Here,Cleanthes

,I find myself at ease in my argu

ment . Here I triumph . There is no view o f humanlife o r o f the condition o f mankind

,from which

,without

the greatest violence,we can infer the moral attributes

,or

learn that infinite benevolence,conjoined with infinite

power and infin ite wisdom,which we must discover by

the eyes o f faith alone.”1 ‘The true conclusion is, that

1 Loo. t it. 3 fl irt , pt. x.

HUME 1 87

the original source o f all th ings is entirely indifferent to allthese principles

,and has no more regard to good above

ill than to heat above cold,or to drought above moisture,

o r to light above heavy.

’ I

1pt.

CHAPTER III

THE MORAL I S T S

1 . The M oral Sense School Shaftesbury, Hutcheson,Butler

LIKE the rationalists o f the seventeenth century, thesemoralists o f the eighteenth were stimulated to ethicalinquiry by Opposition to the v iews o f Hobbes. In Lo cke ’sv iew o f moral obligation

,however

,they saw a restatement

o f Hobbes,which was all the more dangerous since it

was less paradoxical and fell in more naturally with thecurrent theological ideas. Locke

,l ike Hobbes, had found

the basis o f moral obligation,though not the explanation o f

morality,in will

,rather than i n reaso n

,but in the will o f

God rather than in that o f the earthly sovereign . Locke,l ike Hobbes

,had found the motive and sanction o f virtue

in self-interest,but in div ine rather than in political te

wards and punishments. The stress o f the later po lemicis rather upon the altruism than upon the rationality o r

absoluteness o f morali ty. It is to be remembered thatHutcheson and Butler have in view the coarser vers io n o f

egoism formulated by Mandev ille in the Fable of the Bees,or Private 1/ices Public Benefits, and it cannot be doubtedthat i t was this extreme and repulsive development o f theimplications o f Hobbian and Lockian egoism that rousedthese moralists to the defence o f the altruistic e lement invirtue .In Shaftesbury we find all the characteristic pos i tions orthe school— generally known as the moral sense ’

school—already formulated

,though it required the more elaborate

and systematic restatements o f his successors to mak eclear the full significance o f these po sitions. T he o nlyreal difference o f opinion between them co ncerns the

1 88


Shaftesbury,on the other hand, is no less co ncerned

about the form than about the substance o f his

philo sophical work. Of all things he abhors what hecalls the ‘ pedantry ’ and ‘ scholast ic ism ’

o f the averageand professional philosopher ; in place o f th is he strivesafter ‘ wit ’

and ‘ good humour ’ An enemy o f ‘en

thusiasm,

’ he cultivates the art o f satire or ‘rid icule,

’

which he regards as the touchstone o f truth. Deeply imbued with the classical philosophy, he attempts to revivethe dialogue as a form o f philoso phical discussion . T he

result,however

,is by no means entirely successful . H is

writing strikes the modern reader as too conscious, and

not without a pedantry o f its own . It is not only diffuse,rei terative

,and unmethodical

,but

,as Fowler says, ‘ stilted

,

’

marked by‘ affectation and ‘ a falsetto note.’ Charles

Lamb describes his style as ‘ lordly ’ and ‘ inflated ‘ he

seems to have written with his coronet on, and his earl’s

mantle before him .

’ Lesl ie Stephen Speaks not unjustly o fShaftesbury

’

s rather turbid eloquence ’ 1 and Mackintoshhappi ly characterises the long and ambitious dialogue, TheM oralists

,as a modern antique.” When compared no t

only with the dialogues o f Plato,after which i t was

modelled,but with those o f Berkeley

,this work is fe lt

to be almost entirely lacking in characterisation anddramatic movement.

new answer to Ho s finds its key in a newt o f human nature, in psychological interpref the V irtue is the ex

o f the natural sociability or benevolence o f

than o f the universal ‘ nature o f th ings .

’

The psychological method is explicitly substituted fo rthe rationalistic method o f the earlier opponents o f Hobbes .

Shaftesbury,no less clearly than Butler, finds the clue

to the nature o f virtue in the economy ’

o r constitutiono f human nature. It is not merely that in that nature

1 English Thought in the Eighteenth Century , 11. 57.

Dissertation , p. 162 .

THE MORALISTS 1 9 1

there are social as well as self-regard ing impulses oraffections

,but that the system o f human nature as a

whole points to the subordination o f the self- regardingto the social affections as the essential feature o f thenatural ’ or virtuous life

,because the means to the good

o f man,const ituted as he is and placed in a network o f

relations to his fellow-men . The parts and proportions o fthe mind

,their mutual relat ion and dependency

,the con

nexio n and frame o f those passions which constitute thesoul or temper

,may easily be understood by any o ne who

thinks it worth his while to study this inward anatomy .

’ 1

It is because man is a rational being,capable o f form

ing general notions o f things,

’ that he has the capacityn o t merely o f o odness,

’ but o f ‘ virtue ’ or ‘ merit .’ Hecan form such ge notions o f "

actio ns and—Effe

—etions

,

as well as o f obj ects,

‘ so that,by means o f this reflected

sense,there arises another kind o f affection towards those

very affections themselves which have been already felt,

and are now become the subject o f a new liking ordisl ike. ’ 2 This ‘ moral sense ’ apprehends the beauty ordefgrmity, the pro po rt1o n or disproportion

,of actions and

affections. ‘ It feels the soft and harsh,the agreeable and

disagreeable, in the affections ; and finds a foul and fair,

a harmonious and a dissonant,as really and truly here

,as

in any musical numbers,or in the outward forms or

epresen tatio n s o f sensible things. No r can it withholdits admiration and extasy

,its aversion and scorn

,any more

in what relates to one than to the other o f these subj ects. ’

The guiding notion or standard o f virtue is that o f ‘ apublic interest ’

it is only from the point o f view o f

so cial welfare that we discover ‘ the eternal measures,and

immutable independent nature o f worth and virtue." T o

deserve the name o f good or v irtuous,a creature must

have all his incl inations and affections,his dispositions o f

m ind and temper,sui table

,and agreeing with the good o f

his kind, o r o f that system in which he is included,and

o f which he constitutes a part. T o stand thus well affected,

1 Characten'

stz'

cs , 11. 83.

3 I bid. , 11 . 28.

1 I bid.,11. 29 .


and to have one’s affections right and entire,no t only in

respect o f one’s self,but o f society and the publ ic th is is

rectitude, integri ty, o r virtue. And to be wanting in anyo f these

,or to have their contraries

,is depravity, corrup

tion,and vice .’ 1 V i rtue impl ies

,therefore

,the subord ina

tion o f the self- regarding to the social or public affections.There being allowed in a creature such affections as thesetowards the common Nature

,or System o f the Kind, to

gether with those other which regard the private Nature,

o r Self-system it will appear that in following the first o fthese affections, the creature must on many occasions,contradict and go against the latter . How else shouldthe species be preserved Truly understood, however,virtue consists rather in the harmony o f the self- regard ingwith the social affections than in the triumph o f the latterover the former . The lesser whole o f the ind ividual’sown good is included in the larger whole or system o f thesocial good . The Self-affections

,which lead only to the

Good o f the Private,

’ are no less natural than those wh ich‘ lead to the Good o f the Public . ’ From both al ikeShaftesbury distinguishes the unnatural affections,

’ whichtend neither to public nor to private good . The viciousness o f the natural affections consists in their excessive o rdefective strength and he recognises that as in particularcases

,public affection

,on the one hand

,may be too high

so private affection may,on the other hand

,be too weak.

For if a creature be self-neglectful,and insensible o f

danger ; or if he want such a degree o f passion in anykind

,as is useful to preserve

,sustain

,or defend himself ;

this must certainly be esteemed v icious,in regard o f the

design and end o f nature.’ 3 ‘ There are two thingswhich to a rational creature must be horridly offensiveand grievous ; viz . To have the reflection in his mindo f any unjust action or behaviour

,which he knows to be

naturally odious and ill-deserving : or,o f any fool ish

action or behaviour,which he knows to be prejudicial

to his own interest or Here we have the1 Characteristics , 11. 77.

1 I bid. ,11. 78.

3 ii. 89. ii. 1 19 .


reas on to embrace it,’ to maintain the complete co inci

dence between virtue and self- interest,or that to be well

affected towards the Public Interest and one’s own , is notonly con sistent

,but inseparable and that Mo ral Recti

tude, or V i rtue, must accordingly be the advantage,and

V ice the injury and d isadvan tage o f eve creature .

’ 1

He argues That to have the naturIl: kindly, or

generous aEectio ns strong and powerful towards the goodo f the public

,i s to have the chief means and power o f

self-enjoyment,and that to want them

,is certain mise ry

and ill ; That to have the private o r se lf-afl'

ectio ns

to o strong,or beyond their degree o f subo rd inacy to the

kindly and natural,is also miserable ( i i i .) That to have

the unnatural affections is to be miserable in the

highest degree .’ 1 It is impossible to read his im

pressive and subtle argument without feeling how muchButler must have been indebted to Shaftesbury in his

better-known plea fo r the superior wisdom o f a ratio nalself- love to that excessive preoccupation with our own

interest to which a blind selfishness would prompt us,

if not also in his theory o f the obj ective or disin terestedcharacter o f desire.In Spite o f his insistence upon the harmony o f virtue

and self-interest,o r o f the self- regarding with the so c ial

affections, Shaftesbury is convinced that the good is n o t

pleasure . When Will and Pleasure are synonymouswhen everything which pleases us is called pleasure, andwe never chuse or prefer but as we please

,

’tis tr ifling tosay

,Pleasure is our Good . For this has as little meaning

as to say,We chuse what we think el igible and

,We

are pleased with what del ights or pleases us. The qution is

,Whether we are rightly pleased

,and chuse as

we should do. ’ 1 The good is not mere satisfaction or

pleasure,but that which satisfies man as man . Shaftes

bury clearly states the alternative between a subjective orhedonistic and an obj ective or idealistic interpretation o fGood . ‘Ei ther that is every man’s good which he fancies,

1 Characteristics , 11. 81 .

111. 98.

1 Hid , 11. 226, 227.

THE MORALISTS 1 95

and because he fancies it,and is n o t content without it :

or otherwise,there is that in which the nature o f man is

satisfied ; and which alone must be his good . If that inwhich the nature o f man is satisfied

,and can rest co n

tented,be alone his good then he is a fool who follows

that with earnestness,as his good

,which a man can be

without,and yet be satisfied and contented .

’ 1

Hutcheson,while in essential agreement with Shaftes

bury,differs from him in the prominence assigned to the

moral sense and in the emphasis p lacedupm hm evo lence

as the sum o f virtue . His principal design,’ he tell us in

the Preface to the Inquiry into the Original o f our Ideaso fBeauty and V i rtue

,

’

is to show that Human Nature wasn o t left indifferent in the affair o f V irtue, to form to itselfobservations concerning the advantage

, o rdisadvantage, o factions

, and accordingly to regulate its conduct . TheAuthor o f Nature has much better furn ished us fo r avirtuous conduct

,than our moralists seem to imagine, by

almost as quick and powerful instructions, as we have fo rthe preservation o f our bod ies. He has given us strongaffections to be the springs o f each v irtuous action ; andmade V irtue a lovely Form

,that we might easily d istin

guish it from its con trary,and be made happy by the

pursuit o f i t. ’ We have a moral sense o f beauty inactions and affections

,

’ a relish fo r a beauty in character,

in manners.’ The ae sthetic aspect of .moral ity, alreadyprom inent in Shaftesbury

’

s theory, becomes thereforestill more prominent in that o fHutcheson, who is speciallyconcern ed to Show that v irtue is not austere and ungain ly,

’

but beautiful and attractive . S haftesbury had emphasisedthe rat ional ity

,as well as the beauty o f v irtue ; fo r

Hutcheson its quality is purely aesthetic . While hecarefully distinguishes the doctrine o f the ‘ moral sen se ’

from that o f ‘ innate ideas,

’ the former being simply thatwe have a natural susceptibi lity to moral distinctions whichis developed and educated by moral experience

,he finds

1 Characteristics , u. 436.


in this susceptibility the great ev idence o f the naturalness o f virtue

,as answering to ‘ the very frame o f o ur

‘

nature .’

Hutcheso n is n o t satisfied with the affirmation o f the

jdisin terestedness o f the moral sen se,’ or approval o f v irtue

1and disapproval o f v ice. He maintains that the contento fvirtue is benevolen ce

,or regard fo r the general happi

lness. If we examine all the actions which are countedamiable anywhere

,and inquire into the grounds upon

which they are approved,we shall find that in the Opin ion

o f the person who approves them,they always appear as

benevolent, o r flowing from good -will to Others,and a

study o f thei r happiness. ’ 1 As that_actio n is best whichpro cures the greatest happiness fo r the greatest nurfihers,

’ 1

so is that agent most v irtuous the purity o f whose intention to m in ister to the greatest general happiness isleast corrupted by thoughts o f self-seeking.

It would seem to follow that the life o f ideal virtue excludes regard fo r o ur own good o r happiness. Hutchesonholds

,however

,that actions proceeding from self- love are

strictly o f n eutral moral quality, innocent rather thanvicious . ‘The actions which flow solely from self- love

,

and yet ev idence no want o f benevolence,having no hurt

ful effects upon others,seem perfectly indifferent in a

moral sense,and neither raise the love or hatred o f the

observer . ’ 1 They belong to the sphere o f natural,

rather than to that o f moral good . But the one spheremay easily overlap the other, and natural good maybecome moral . ‘ He who pursues his own private goodwith an intention also to concur with that constitutionwhich tends to the good o f the whole ; and much morehe who promotes h is own good

,with a direct v iew o f

making himself more capable o f serv ing God,or doing

good to mankind,acts n o t only innocently

,but also

honourably and virtuously : fo r in both these cases benevo lence concurs with self- love to excite him to theaction . And thus a neglect o f our own good may be

1 I nquiry ,p. 166.

1 I biai , p. 181 .3 1 bid.

, p. 175.

f


o f injustice,adultery

,murder

,perjury

,andeven o f persecu

tion,may

,in many supposable cases

,not have the appear

ance o f being likely to produce an overbalance o f miseryin the present state ; perhaps sometimes may have the

contrary appearance . The happiness o f the world isthe concern o f H im

,Who is the Lord and the Proprietor

o f it : nor do we know what we are about, when we

endeavour to promote the good o f mankind in any ways,but those which He has directed ; that is indeed in all

ways not con trary to veraci ty and justice . Andthough it is our business and o ur duty to endeavour

,

within the bounds o f veracity and justice,to contribute to

the ease,convenience, and even cheerfulness and d iversion

o f our fellow-creatures ; yet, from o ur short v iews,i t is

greatly uncertain,whether this endeavour will in particular

instances produce an overbalance o f happiness upon thewhole since so many and distant things must come intothe account .’

In place o f such a utilitarian estimate o f v irtue Butleraflirm s an intuitional theory.

‘ The fact appears to be,

that we are con stituted so as to condemn falsehood,

provoked violence,injustice

,and to approve o f benevolence

to some preferably to others, abstracted from all consideration

,which conduct is l ikeliest to produce an overbalance

o f happiness o rmisery.

’

V irtue, thus understo od, i ncludesbenevolence, but is no t synonymous with it. In thePrefacfe to the second edi tion o f the Sermons

,published

in 1 729, four years after the appearance o f Hutcheson’sInquiry, he says :

‘ Everyth ing is what it is, and no t

another th ing. The goodness o r badness o f actions doesnot arise from hence

,that the epithet

,interested or dis

interested,may be applied to them,

any more than anyother indifferent epithet

,suppose inquisitive o r jealous

,

may or may not be applied to them ; no t from theirbeing attended with present o r future pleasure o r pain ;but from their being what they are ; namely, whatbecomes such creatures as we are

,what the state o f the

case requires, o r the contrary. O r, in other words,we may judge and determine

,that an action is goo d or

THE MORALISTS 1 99

evil,before we so much as consider

,whether it be in

terested o r d isinterested .

’ 1

Butler is not content with the denial o f the identityo f ben evolence and virtue ; he insists upon the equalclaims o f self- love or self- in terest as a principle o f v irtuousaction . Self- love in its due degree is as just and morallygood as any affection whatever . ’ 2 The cause o f vice isto be sought rather in the undue strength o f ‘

the particular passions ’ than in self- love. ‘ Upon the whole

,

if the generality o f mankind were to cultivate withinthemselves the principle o f self- love ; if they were toaccustom them selves often to set down and consider whatwas the greatest happin ess they were capable o f attain ingfo r themselves in this l ife

,and if self- love were so strong

and prevalen t,as that they would uniformly pursue this

their supposed chief temporal good,without being diverted

from it by any particular passion,it would manifestly pre

vent numberless foll ies and vices. This was in a greatmeasure the Epicurean system o f philosophy. It is indeedby no mean s the religious or even moral institution o f

life . Yet, with all the m istakes men would fall intoabout interest

,i t would be less mischievous than the

extravagances o f mere appetite,will

,and pleasure ; fo r

certainly self-love, though confined to the interest o f thislife

,is,o f the two

,a much better guide than passion

,

which has absolutely no bound o r measure,but what is

set to it by this self- love,or moral considerations. ’ 1

Again,in the Dissertation

,he says : ‘ It should seem

that a due concern about o ur own interest or happiness,

and a reasonable endeavour to secure and promote i t,which is

,I think

,very much the meaning o f the word

prudence,in our language ; i t should seem that this is

v irtue,and the contrary behav iour faulty and blamable ;

since,in the calmest way o f reflection

,we approve o f

the first,and condemn the other conduct

,both in our

selves and others. ’ Hence he concludes that ‘ prudenceis a species o f v irtue, and folly o f vice meaning by folly

1 S ermon s, Preface , sect. 39 (Bernard’

s1 Loc. cit.

1 S ermon s, Preface , sects . 39-

41 .


somewhat quite different from mere incapaci ty,a thought

less want o f that regard and atten tion to our own happiness

,which we had capacity fo r.

’ ‘ The faculty w ith inus, which is the judge o f actions, approves o f prudentactions

,and disapproves imprudent ones.’

Self- love and benevolence,then

,o r the consideration

o f our own happiness and that o f others, as such, arefo r Butler two equally rational principles o f action , whoseoffice is to regulate the particular passions and affections.‘ As human nature is not o ne simple un iform thing

,but a

composition o f various parts,body

,spiri t

,appetites

,par

ticular passions,and affections ; fo r each o f which reason

able self- love would lead men to have due regard,and

make suitable provision : so society consists o f variousparts

, to which we stand in different respects and re lations ; and just benevolence would as surely lead us tohave due regard to each o f these

,and behave as the

respective relations require .

’ 1 Action in accordance withthese principles is natural in another sense than that inwhich action in accordance with a particular appeti te o r

affection is natural : i t is action in accordance with theconstitution o f human nature as a whole

,no t merely

in accordance with present impulse . In the case o f

benevolence,as well as in that o f self-love, it is necessary

to distinguish the rational from the ‘ passionate ’ principle .‘When benevolence is said to be the sum o f v irtue

,i t

is no t spoken o f as a bl ind propen sion,but as a principle

in reasonable creatures,and so to be directed by their

reason : fo r reaso n . and reflection comes into our not iono f a moral agent. And that will lead us to consider distant co nsequences, as well as the immediate tendency o f

an action it will teach us that the care o f some persons,

suppo se children and families,is particularly committed to

our charge by Nature and Prov idence ; as also that thereare other c ircumstances

,suppose friendship or former obliga

tions,which require that we do good to some, preferably

to others. Thus,upon supposition that i t were in

1 S ermon x11. sect. 29 .


distinct consideration o f the positive sanctions o f thatlaw ; the rewards and pun ishments which we feel, and

those which from the light o f reason we have ground to

believe are annexed to i t. The question then carries itsown answer along with it. Your obligation to obey thislaw

,is its being the law o f your nature. That your

conscience approves o f and attests to such a course o f

action,is itself alone an obligation . Conscience does

no t only offer itse lf to show us the way we should walkin

,but it likewise carries its own authority with it, that

i t is our natural guide ; the guide assigned us by theAuthor o f our nature : i t therefore belongs to our co ndition o f being, i t is o ur duty to walk in that path, andfollow this guide

,without looking about to see whether

we may not possibly forsake them with impun ity .

’ 1 It

is here that Butler finds the theory o f Shaftesbury inadeuquate that writer has failed to follow out the implicationo f his own view that v irtue is determined by the co nstitution o f human nature . ‘ The very constitution o f

our nature requires, that we bring our whole conductbefore this superior faculty ; wait its determination ;enforce upon ourselves its authority

,and make i t the

business o f our lives,as it is absolutely the whole bus iness

o f a moral agent,to conform ourselves to it.

’ 1 Even ifthe obligations o f conscience should confl ict with thoseo f self- love

,the latter must yield unquestion ingly to

the former. We are no t,in such a case, ‘ under two

contrary obl igations,i.e. under none at all .’ The obl iga

tion o n the side o f interest really does not remain . Fo r

the natural authority o f the principle o f reflection is anobligation the most near and intimate

,the most certain

and known ; whereas the contrary obligation can at the

utmost appear no more than probable ; since no man can

be certain i n any circumstances that vice is his in terest inthe present world

,much less can he be certain against

another ; and thus the certain obligation would entire lysupersede and destroy the uncertain o ne .

’ ‘ The greatest

1 S ermon iii. sect. 5.

1 S ermons , Preface, sect. 25.

THE MORALISTS 203

degree o f scepticism will st ill leave men under thestrictest moral obligations

,whatever their opin ion be co n

cerning the happiness o f v irtue. ’ 1

Yet Butler finds it necessary to aflirm ‘ the happytendency o f v i rtue.’ He is especially anxious to Show thecomplete coincidence o f benevolence and self- love : thatthough benevolence and self- love are different ; thoughthe former tends most d irectly to public good, and thelatter to private, yet they are so perfectly coin cident, thatthe greatest satisfactions to ourselves depend upon ourhaving benevolence in a due degree ; and that self- love isone ch ief securi ty o f our right behav iour towards society .

’ 1

H is ch ief contribution here l ies in his demonstration o f

the d isinterested character o f all desire,directed as i t is,

not to our own pleasure or satisfaction,but to the

attainment o f its own appropriate obj ect. O therwise hedoes little more than repeat the arguments o f Shaftes

bury and Hutcheson about the happiness o f benevolent,as compared with that o f self- seeking

,activ ity. It is to be

remembered that Butler’s aim in thus seeking to reconcilebenevolence

,and virtue generally

,with the apparently

opposing claims Of self- in terest,as well as in emphasising

the principle o f self- love,is,as he himself says, to obviate

that scorn which one sees rising upon the faces o f peoplewho are said to know the world

,when mention is made

o f a disinterested,generous o r public-spirited action .

’ 1

Butler’s purpose in the Sermons was rather practical thanpurely theoretical ; and in his case as in others, ‘ thedoctrine o f moral consequences was had recourse to bythe d iv ines and moralists as the most l ikely remedy o f

the prevailing l icentiousness .’ ‘1

The coincidence o f virtue and happiness,the harmony

o f conscience and self-love,is however

,at best

,uncertain ,

so far as the present world is concerned . ‘ It must beowned a thing o f difficulty to weigh and balance pleasuresand uneasinesses, each amongst themselves, and alsoagainst each other

, so as to make an estimate with any1 S ermons , Pref., sects . 26, 27.

1 S ermo ni. sect. 6.

1 S ermon s , Pref. , sect. 38.1 Mark Pattiso n, Essay s , 11. 1 14.


exactness,o f the overplus o f happiness o n the side o f

v irtue. And it is no t impossible that,amidst the infin ite

disorders o f the world,there may be exceptions to the

happiness o f virtue. ’ 1 ‘ V i rtue,to borrow the Christian

allusion,is militant here ; and various untoward accidents

contribute to its being often overborne : but i t maycombat with greater advantage hereafter

,and prevai l

completely,and enjoy its con sequent rewards, in some

future States. ’ 1 Nay, i t follows from the moral perfectio n o f God ‘ that v i rtue must be the happiness

,and

v ice the misery,o f every creature ; and that regularity

and order and right cannot but prevail finally in a

universe under His government 3 As against the superficial optim ism o f the deists

,andmore especially o f Shaftes

bury,Butler emphasises the ‘ difficulties

’ which beseto ur interpretation o f the moral order

,and insists that

,

since the system o f nature is to be traced to the sameAuthor as the system o f religion

,natural and revealed

,

the same kind o f difficulties are to be expected in

the latter as in the former sphere. The exhibition o f

th is ‘analogy

’

is the aim o f his great apology for the

Christian faith . The defence rests upon the inevi tablel imitations o f human knowledge

,which imply that such

‘ difliculties’

must always exist fo r us . His aim is n o t toprove the rationality o f Christianity o r i ts certain truth

,

but merely its cred ibili ty,its probabil ity.

Probabil ity,not certainty

,he maintains

,is the gu ide

\ o f human life . He recalls to a dogmatic and rationalisticage Locke ’s lesson o f the deficiency o f man’s knowledgeand o f the indispensable part which opinion

,

’ more o r lessprobable

,must play in the l ife o f such a being as man .

‘ Probable evidence, in its very nature,affords but an

imperfect kind o f information ; and is to be consideredas relative only to beings o f limited capacities. Fornothing which is the possible obj ect o f knowledge

,whether

past,presen t

,o r future

,can be probable to an infinite

Intelligence ; since it cannot but be discerned absolutely1 Analogy , pt. i. ch. iii. sect. 5 (Bernard) .1 1 bi .

,a’

pt. i. ch. iii. sect. 20.

1 Introd., sect. 10 .

“I,


fo r as to causes, they are as entirely in the dark as the

most ignorant. What are the laws by which matte r actsupo n matter, but certain efl

'

ects ; which some, havingobserved to be frequently repeated, have reduced to

general rules ? ’ 1

In such sentences Butler seems to antici pate the

thorough-going empiricism o f Hume . But it n everoccurs to him to deduce Hume’s sceptical conclus ionfrom the merely empirical character o f human knowledge.

The conclusion he draws is rather Locke ’s than Hume’s.After all

,the same account is to be given, why we were

placed in these circumstances o f ignorance, as why naturehas no t furn ished us with wings ; namely, that we weredesigned to be inhabitants o f this earth . I am afraidwe th ink to o h ighly o f ourselves ; o f our rank in the

creation, and o f what is due to us. What sphere o f

action,what business is assigned to man, that he has no t

capacities and knowledge fully equal to ? If toacquire knowledge were our proper end, we should indeedbe but poorly prov ided : but if somewhat else be our

business and duty, we may, notwithstanding our igno rance

,be well enough furn ished fo r i t ; and the observation

o f our ignorance may be o f assistance to us in the discharge o f it.

’ 1 ‘ S ince the constitution o f nature, and

the methods and designs o f Providence in the governmen to f the world, are above our comprehension

,we Should

acquiesce in,and rest satisfied with

,our ignorance, turn

our thoughts from that which is above and beyond us, andapply ourselves to that wh ich is level to our capacities

,and

which is our real business and concern . Knowledge isnot our proper happiness .’ 1 Like Bacon and Lo c

Butler finds the measure o f the value o f knowledge in Its

practical uti li ty,in its significance fo r action .

‘Men o f

deep research and curious inquiry Should just be put inmind

,no t to mistake what they are doing. If their

d iscoveries serve the cause o f virtue and rel igion,in the

way o f proof,motive to practice

,or assistance in i t ; or if

1 Sermon xv. sect. 5.

1 I bid., sect. 10.1 1M ” sect. 16,

THE MORALISTS 1 9 7

they tend to render l ife less unhappy,and promote its

satisfactions ; then they are most usefully employed butbringing things to l ight

,alone and o f i tself

,i s o f no

manner o f use,any otherwise than as an entertainmen t or

diversion . Neither is this at all amiss, if i t does no t takeup the time which should be employed in better work.

But it is evident that there is another mark set up for usto aim at another end appointed us to direct our lives toan end

,which the most knowing may fail o f, and the most

ignorant arrive at. The only knowledge,which i s

o f any avai l to us, is that which teaches us our duty, o rassists us in the discharge o f i t . Our prov ince is v irtueand religion

,l ife and manners ; the science o f improv ing

the temper,and making the heart better. This is the

field assign ed us to cultivate. He who Should find

out o n e rule to assist us in this work,would deserve

infinitely better o fmankind,than all the improvers o f other

knowledge put together. ’ 1

The argument o f the Analogy belongs rather to theprovince o f Christian apologetics than to that o f philosophy proper . It is concerned, moreover, with a n ow

antiquated controversy ; as an argumentum ad hominem to

the deists o f the eighteenth century,i t has lost most o f its

interest for us. AS Matthew Arnold finely expressed it,

It has the effect upon me,as I contemplate it

,o f a stately

and severe fortress,with thick and high walls

,built o f o ld

to control the kingdom o f ev il —but the gates are open;and the guards gone .’ 1 It is unfair and beside the pointto critic ise it as a metaphysical argument

,and to remark

Butler’s ‘ feebleness in dealing with purely metaphysicalquestions.’ 1 He never deals with purely metaphysicalquestion s. It is true that ‘ he has taken fo r grantedthe answers to the most v ital questions o f philosophybut he has done so deliberately

,because on ‘ these vi tal

questions o f philosophy— the questions o f the existence o f

1 S ermon xv . sect. 16.

1 Las t Essay s on Church and Religion , p. 140 .

1 Leslie S tephen , English Thought in the Eighteenth Century , i. 298.

I o£d. , i. 304.


God as not only the C reator but the moral Governor o fthe world

,the freedom o f man as a moral agent

,his per

so nality, and the future life o f the indiv idual—there was n odifference o f opinion between himself and his opponents .

H i s only difference with them was o n the question o f

the credibility o f a Revelation,and therefore o f Christ i

amity as a religious system ; and Butler’s whole cfl

'

o rt i sdirected to convince them that

,if they are to be co n

sistent with the views o f God,o f nature, and o fman which

they share with him,they must admit the credib il i ty o f

,the Christian Revelation

,and therefore the reasonableness

o f acting on the hypothesis o f its truth .

2 . Association and Sympathy as Explanations of the M oral

Sense Hartley and Jdam Smith

The doctrine o f the ultimateness and simplic ity o f

the ‘ moral sense,

’ common to Shaftesbury,Hutcheso n

,

and Butler,is repudiated by Hartley and Adam Smith

,

the former explaining i t in terms o f Association,the

latter in terms o f Sympathy . In the Preface to theObservations on M an

,published in 1 749, Hartley ac

knowledges his indebtedness to an earlier writer, the

Rev . John Gay,who

,in a Dissertation concerning the

Principle and Criterion o f V i rtue and the O rigin o f

the Passions,

’ prefixed to Law’s translation o f King’sOrigin of Evil had ‘ asserted the poss ib i l ityo f deducing all our intellectual pleasures and pains fromassociation .

’ ‘This put me upon con sidering the powero f association From enquiring into the power o f

association I was led to exam ine both its consequences,in respect o f morali ty and religion

,and its phys ical

cause . ’ Gay’s li ttle work is really o f great importan cefo r the doctrines both o f Association ism and o f Utilitarian ism . The ‘ moral sense ’ and ‘ public affections,

’

to which Hutcheson had so confidently appealed, aren o t

,he argues

,original instin cts. To regard them as

such is,he thinks

,rather cutting the knot than unty ing

it .’ The ultimate end to which both point is ‘our


to which it was reduced by Priestley and ErasmusDarwin. It is perhaps no t going to o far to say, withStephen

,that his system clearly renders a soul a super

fluity, if no t an anomaly,

’ that ‘ the will,the thoughts

,

and the emotions,no t only result from

,but

,as i t would

seem,are “ vibratiuncles ” ’

;1 and while he insists upo n

the disparateness o f the psychical and the physicalphenomena, b e frank] accepts, as the logical consequenceo f ‘ the doctrines o f

17

association and mechanism,

’

the

necessity o f human actions, the argument fo r which hasnever been better stated . But it is impossible to reconcilehis undiscriminating acceptance o f theological dogma withhis scientific method ; he is truly described by his so n

,

1

as‘ a partiz an fo r the Christian religion .

’

It is no t in the statement o f the principle o f Association

,but in its application

,that the chief interest o f

Hartley’s treatment o f the subject lies. So far as theprinciple itself is concerned

,his view o f i t practically antic i

pates the view o f present psychology,reducing assoc iation

to the single principle o f contiguity,o r the tendency o f

ideas which have occurred together,or in immediate suc

cession,to recur together or to recall o ne another It is in

the application o f th is principle to the entire mental life,

and especially to the feelings and to the moral sense,’ that

his originality consists. In the use o f i t as explaining thegenesis o f conscience

,moreover

,he recogn ises two truths

o f the greatest significance first,that the product o f the

association o f old ideas may be an idea quite new,in the

sense o f being different from the mere sum o f its com

ponent factors ; secondly, that that which is prior in theorder o f nature is always less perfect and principal thanthat which is posterior.’ H is aim

,accordingly

,is to

trace the gradual evolution o f the higher pleasures out o fthe lower, o f the later out o f the earlier—the progressfrom the pleasures o f sensation and self- interest to thoseo f ‘ perfect self-annih ilation and the pure love o f God .’

1 Leslie S tephen , English Thought in the E ighteen th Century , 11. 65.

In the Life prefixed to the‘ No tes and Additio ns

’by Pis torius ,

which fo rms the third vo lume o f the Observation s .

THE MORALISTS 2 1 1

And thus we may perceive,that all the pleasures and

pains o f sensation,imagination

,ambition

,self- interest

,

sympathy,and theopathy

,as far as they are consistent

with one another,with the frame o f our natures, and

with the course o f the world,beget in us a moral sense

,

and lead us to the love and approbation o f vi rtue, and tothe fear

,hatred

,and abhorrence o f vice. This moral

sense, therefore, carries its own author ity with it,inasmuch

as it is the sum total o f all the rest,and the ultimate result

from them ; and employs the force and authority o f thew hole nature o f man against any particular part o f i t

,

that rebels against the determ inations and commands o fthe co nscience or moral judgment. It appears also thatthe moral sense carr ies us perpetually to the pure love o f

G od,as our highest and ultimate perfection

,our end

,

centre,and only resting-place

,to which we can never

attain .

’ 1 Yet he holds that ‘ the love o f God affords apleasure which is superior in kind and degree to all therest, o f which our natures are capable,

’ 2 and that thisfollows from ‘ the frame o f our nature, and particularlyits subjection to the power o f association or the tendencyto connect Godwith each [pleasure] as its sole cause.

’ 1

In the ethical psychology o f Hartley,as well as in that

o f Hutcheson and o f Hume,sympathy occupied a place o f

much importance,but the point o f v iew was still essen

tially indiv idualistic. It was left to Adam Smith to at

tempt fo r the first time the explanation o f the ind ividualconscience from the social point o f v iew

,and to make

sympathy the central princ iple o f ethical psychology.

This account o f the place o f sympathy in the moral consciousness is offered as a substitute at once for the v iew o f

Hutcheson,that the moral sense is an original and simple

faculty,and fo r the view o f Hume

,that util ity, as such, is

m orally approved . While adm i tting the general co incidence o f propriety with uti l ity

,Smith distinguishes the

sense o f propriety from ‘ the perception o f utili ty,’ but

1 Observations, i. 497.1 I bid., 11. 31 1 .

111 . 313.


insists,at the same time

,that the sense o f propriety is

always,in its -origin

,and po tentially if not actually, a

sympathetic sense . It is in its emphasis on the so c ialaspect o f consc ience

,and in its careful analysis o f the

ethical function o f sympathy,that the originali ty o f the

Theory of M oral Sentiments consists.T o approve or disapprove o f the affections o f others,that is, to judge o f their propriety o r impro prieg

,is to

sympathise o r n o t to sympathise with these a ectio ns.

The effort o f the spectator to sympathise with the sentiments o f the person principally concerned is the source o f

the amiable v irtues ’ or virtues o f humanity the efl’

ort

o f the perso n principally concerned to‘ bring down his

emotions to what the spectator can go along with,’ i s the

source o f the great,the awful and respectable

, the virtueso f self-denial

,o f self-government .’ ‘ Hence it is that to

feel much fo rothers and little fo rourselves,that to restrain

our selfish,and to indulge o ur benevolent affections

,co n

stitutes the perfection o f human nature .’ 1 While the

sense o f propriety is the result o f a simple and directsympathy with the affections or motives o f others

,the

sense o f merit and demerit is the result o f a compoundsympathy, direct and indirect : in the one case, a direc tsympathy with the sentiments o f the agent and an in

direct sympathy wi th the gratitude o f those affected byhis action ; in the other, a direct antipathy to the sen t iments o f the agent and an indirect sympathy with the

resentment o f those who suffer from his action .

As we judge o f the propriety and merit o f the actionso f others by putting ourselves in their place and lookin gat their motives and actions with their own eyes o r fromtheir own point o f view

,by sympathetically identifying

ourselves with the agent and with those affected by hisactions

,so we judge the propriety and merit o f our own

actions,and o f the affections o f which they are the

expression, by looking at them with the eyes o f others, byseeing them with the eyes o f the spectator

,and sharing

1 Theory cy'

Moral S entimen ts, pp. 43, 44.


solution o f the proper problem o f e thics,that o f the

criterion o f moral value or o f the basis o f moral distinctio ns. It is the culmination o f the psychologicaltendency which is characteristic o f the ‘ moral sen se ’

schoo l o f moral ists ; and the author’s own consciousness

o f this l imitation o f the inquiry comes out in variousways. For example

,as regards util i ty

,the question

which he discusses is no t the relation o f utility to propriety, but whether we are conscious o f the util i ty o r o f

the propriety no t whether the true aim o f pun ishment isthe preservation o f soc iety

,but whether this

,or resent

ment,is the actual motive o f punishment. He is no t

attempting to account fo r, or to explain, the moral elemen tin our moral sentiments by reduc ing it to sympathy.Hence the irrelevancy o f the objection o f ThomasBrown

,repeated by others

,that the feelings with which

we sympathise are themselves moral feel ings or sen t iments o r if they are not moral feelings, the reflection o f

them from a thousand breasts cannot alter the ir nature ;1

and that ‘ in either case i t is equally evident,that sympathy

cannot be the source o f any additional knowledge,

’ 1s ince

the echo o f our own feelings in those o f others can

only repeat the original feeling,—the ‘ moral mirror ’

can

only reflect the original moral j udgment o f the indiv idual.Smith himself does not hesitate to speak o f ‘ natural propriety,

’o f ourmoral faculties

,our natural sense o f merit

and propriety.

’ 1 What he is concerned to show is simplythe part which sympathy plays in the moral consciousnesso f the ind iv idual

,the essentially social nature o f the

individual conscience ; that without society we could notattain moral insight

,n o t that moral insight is poss ible

without moral facul ties,or even a moral sense.’

The only direct ethical significance o f the theory is,therefore

,the essentially social nature o f moral ity

,the

inference that ‘ man,who can subsist only in society,

was fitted by nature to that situation fo r which he wasmade

,

"1 that in sympathy is found the real secur i ty for1 Philosophy of the Human Mind, lect. 80 .

1 I bid. , lect. 81 .

1 Theory of Moral S en timents , p. 266.

1 I biri , p. 188.

THE MORALISTS 1 1 5

the stability o f the great,the immense fabric o f human

society,that fabric which to raise and to support seems

in this world,if I may say so

, to have been the peculiar and darling care o f nature .’ 1 In the Theory ofM oral Sentiments

,as in the Wealth of Nations

,he recog

n ises another bond,o f great strength and value, in the

economic interests o f the ind iv idual. ‘Tho’ among the

different members o f the society there should be nomutual love and affection

,the society

,tho

’ less happyand agreeable

,will n o t necessarily be d issolved . Society

may subsist among different men , as among differentmerchants

,from a sense o f i ts uti lity

,without any mutual

love or affection ; and tho’ no man in i t should owe

any obligation,or be bound in gratitude to any other

,

it may still be upheld by a mercenary exchange o f goodoffices according to an agreed valuation .

’ 1 This prudential motive

,however

,is here ass igned its true ethical

place,in subordination to the sympathetic appreciation

o f the social value o f our conduct. The ethical functiono f sympathy is to substitute fo r the part ial ity o f theagent’s self- love the impartial ity o f the spectator, thatis,o f society

,actual or ideal. The moral valid ity o f our

motives depends,as Kant would say, upon the possibili ty

o f universalising them— upon their approval,no t by the

agent,but by the impartial Spectator.

It is no t to be den ied,however

,that Smith at

times forgets the l imitations o f his inquiry, as abovedescribed

,and indulges in general ethical observations

which have no real relation to it. S idgwick has justlynoted the ‘ inferiority o f his work when he passes frompsychological analysis to ethical construction .

’ 1 Thisis seen

,fo r example

,in his hasty identification o f the

‘ general rules ’

o f conduct with the ‘ laws o f God,’ and

in his easy-going theological optimism . It is impossible,’

says Leslie Stephen,

‘ to resist the impress ion,whilst we

read his fluent rhetoric,and observe his easy acceptance

o f theological principles already exposed by his master1 Theo ry qfMoral S entimen ts , p. 190 .

1 I biti , p. 189.1 History of Ethics , p. 223.


Hume,that we are no t l istening to a th inker really

grappling with a d ifficult problem,so much as to an

ambitious professor who has found an excellent o ppo rtunity fo r displaying his command o f language, andmaking bri ll iant lectures. The whole tone savours o fthat complacent optimism o f the time which retainedtheological phrases to round a paragraph, and to savethe trouble o f genuine thought.’ 1 But it is necessaryto remember that these discussions are really subsid iaryto the main argument ; and it Shows a singular lack o f

discernment to say that ‘ Smith ’s main propo sition washardly original

,though he has worked i t out in detai l, and

it is rather calculated to lead us dexterously round difficul tquestions than to supply us with ' a genuine answer.’ 1

Smith’s ‘ command o f lan guage ’ must strike everyreader o f this work

,as well as o f the Wealth of Nations .

His style,though perhaps a trifle to o fluent, is very

nearly up to the highest level o f English philosophy,and it has been justly remarked that ‘ the charm o f the

Theory of M oral Sentiments l ies n o t so much in its

principal thesis,as in its inc idental d iscussions and i llus

tratio n s. In these the absent-minded scholar shows awide and subtle knowledge o f human nature, and neverwas a moralist more free from platitudes.’ 1 One o f

these illustrations may be quoted to show the qual ityo f Sm ith’s style at its best

,the passage in which he

explains how i t is that youth,the season o f gaiety,

so easily engages our affections.’ ‘ That propensity to

j oy which seems even to animate the bloom,and to

sparkle from the eyes o f youth and beauty, tho’ in

a person o f the same sex, exalts even the aged to amore joyous mood than ordinary . They forget, fo r atime

,their infirm ities

,and abandon themselves to those

agreeable ideas and emotions to which they have longbeen strangers

,but which

,when the presence o f so

much happ iness recalls them to their breast,take their

place there,like Old acquaintance, from whom they are

1 English Thought in the Eighteen th Cen tury , 11. 77.

1 Loc. cit.1 H . Laurie , S cottish Philosophy ,

p. 1 22 .


Locke,whose experimental metho d he professe s to

apply to moral questions. ‘Whatever I may be ableto do

,I stand indebted to Mr . Locke for

,hav ing learned

from him which way to direct my observation,and how

to make use o f what I observe.’ 1 He sets h imself toshow that ‘ we derive our incl inations and moral sensesthrough the same channel as our knowledge

,without

having them interwoven originally into our constitution,

’ 1

and in the doctrine o f the ‘ moral sense ’ he sees theethical version o f the doctrine o f ‘ innate ideas ’ whichLocke had so successfully exploded in its intellectualapplications. Like Hartley

,he seeks to account fo r the

moral sense ’ by the principle o f Association,which he

calls Translation .

’

Tucker is equally convinced that the ‘ ultimate good ’

is the general happiness,and that the only motive which

can ultimately actuate the individual is regard to his own

happiness. ‘The fundamental article I have aimed atestablishing is that o f universal charity, unreserved benevo lence o r public spirit

,not confined to o ur own country

alone,but extended to every member o f the universe

,

whereof we all are cit iz ens. ’ 1 ‘ The grand fundamental rule o f conduct

,

’ he holds,is that o f ‘ labouring

constantly to increase the common stock [o f good o r

happiness] by any beneficial serv ice or prevention o f

damage among our fellow-creatures wherever we can,

preferring always the greater discoverable good and goodo f the greater number, before the less.

’ 1 On the otherhand he tells us

,

‘ I have examined human nature andfound that Satisfaction

,every man’s own satisfaction

,is

the spring that actuates all his motions."1 T o provethe obligatoriness o f virtuous or altruistic conduct, it isnecessary, therefore, to show the complete coincidence o fsuch conduct with that dictated by true or enlightenedself- interest.As to the general coincidence o f prudential and virtuousor benevolent conduct

,Tucker has no doubts ; and the

1 Light of Nature Pursued, Introd.

1 1bid. , i. 151 (3rd1 ii. 677.

1 I bid. , 11. 670.1 I bid., i. 6 14.

THE MORALISTS 1 1 9

solution o f the psychological difficulty o f reconcil ingdisinterested or genuine benevolence with self-interest orthat regard fo r our own satisfaction, o r pleasure on thewhole

,which he takes to be the dominating motive o f

all human action,is found by him in the principle o f

‘ Translation or Association . Through it he is ableto explain how the means acquire fo r us the importanceo f the end

,how vi rtue thus becomes an end in itself

and ‘ general rules ’o f conduct take the place o f the

ultimate good,

’ which is fo r the ind iv idual always hisown happiness. Yet the coincidence remains incomplete : the highest acts o f virtue, where the self-sacrificeseems absolute

,have not been reduced to terms o f

prudence. ‘We have found no reason to imaginea wise man would ever die fo r his country or suffermartyrdom in the cause o f v i rtue

,how strong propensity

soever he might feel in himself to maintain her interests.For he would never act upon impulse no r do anythingw ithout knowing why : he would cultivate a disposit ionto justice

,benevolence

,and public spirit

,because he

would see it must lead him into actions most conduciveto his happiness

,and would place such confidence in

his rules as to presume they carried that tendency inparticular instances wherein i t d id not immediately appear.But it is o ne thing no t to see directly that measureshave such a tendency

,and another to discern clearly

that they have a contrary ; and when they take awayall capacity o f further enjoyment

,this is so manifest

a proof o f their inexpedience as no presumption whatevercan withstand . Therefore he will never let his loveo f virtue grow to such an extravagant fondness as tooverthrow the very purposes fo r which he entertainedir.

’ 1

Tucker thus finds himself forced,fo r the complete

solution o f the ethical problem,beyond the field o f ethics

into that o f metaphysics or theology. So far, he hasproceeded ‘ solely upon the v iew o f human nature, with

1 Light of Nature l‘

ursued, i. 272.


out any consideration o f Religion or another world,

’

and in the very incompleteness o f the solution reachedfrom the former point o f v iew he finds the proof o f the

necessity o f the latter. From the benevolence and equityo f God it follows that ‘ the accounts o f all are to beset even

,

’ or that the shares o f all in that happinesswhich is the ultimate good shall be made equal inthe long run . The loss or sacrifice o f happiness whichvirtue seems to call fo r on the part o f the indiv idualcan therefore be only apparent or temporary

,as the

gain o f wrong-doing also is. In the 1 Bank o f the un iverse

,

’ whose transactions are much more exact andsecure than those o f the Bank o f England, all the goo da man does

,stands placed to his account

,to be repaid

him in full value when it will be most useful to h imso that whoever works for another

,works for himself ;

and by working fo r numbers,earns more than he could

possibly do by working for himself alone l ike a

thrifty merchant,who scruples no t to advance consider

able sums,and even to exhaust his coffers, fo r gain ing

a large profit to the common stock in partnersh ip. ’ 1

This idea o f a partnership o f mankind in a commonstock o f happiness

,by any addition to which gain must

accrue,in the future if n o t in the present l ife, to

the indiv idual who makes it,is Tucker’s grand solut ion

o f the apparent contradiction between virtue and selfinterest. The conv iction that, as Butler puts it, a man

will ‘ find his account in virtue, though not the consciousmotive o f all virtuous actions

,yet seems to Tucker the

on ly possible justification o f virtue to the reflective mind.‘ It is exclusively as a psychologist and as a moral ist,

’

says Lesl ie Stephen,

‘ that Tucker has any great speculative merit ’

;1 and

,l ike the other morali sts o f his

age,with the exception o f Butler and Hume

,i t is in

psychology rather than in ethics that he excels. T o usehis own figure

,he is an adept in the use o f ‘ the micro

scope ’o f psychological analysis

,but only a tyro in that

1 Light Qf Nature Pursuea'

, i. 666.

1 English Thought in the Eighteenth Century , 11. 1 1 2 .


boo k is,as he himself acknowledges, more l ike ‘ a tissue

o f separate essays ’ than an organ ic whole : ‘ in th is 111

i nvestigation o f that wilderness,the human mind

have no preconcerted plan and though not withoutsome general idea o f the end to which my inquir ieswill lead me, yet have I no r a full prospect o f the trackthey wi ll take.’ He is n o t really writ ing fo r the readerso much as fo r himself ; ‘ I am no t to be considered as

a professor instructing others in the sc ience he is completely master o f, but as a learner seeking afte r an

improvement o f my own knowledge.’ 1 He will leavenothing unsaid ; as Stephen remarks

,

‘ he utterly igno resthe principle that the secret o f being tedious is to sayeverything.

’ 1 His lack o f instinct fo r system leads himinto endless irrelevancies

,and although these i rrelevancies

are frequently delightful, in their cumulat ive effect theyadd greatly to the weariness o f the already much- triedreader. It was in these defects o f Tucker’s exposit ion

,

otherwise so adm i rable,that Paley saw his opportun ity .

Paley’

s reputation in the fields o f natural theologyand Christ ian apologetics is at least equal to his importance as a moralist, and he himself regarded his works inthese d ifferent fields as constituting a system

,consisting of

‘ the evidences o f Natural Religion,the evidences o f

Revealed Religion, and an account o f the duties thatresult from both .

’ 1 His experience as a Cambridge tutordoubtless stimulated and educated his natural gifts as aclear and conv incing writer o n such subjects ; he alwayswrites as ‘ a professor instructing others

,

’ and his bo okswere at once adopted as text-books in the universi ties andlong held their place among the recognised fountain s o f

knowledge in these subj ects. O f their style it is hardlyan exaggeration to say, with Mackintosh, that if inevitablydidactic and without any special grace

,i t is ‘

as near

perfection in its kind as any in our language.’

1 Light ofNature Pursued, i. 143—4.

1 English Thought in the E ighteen th Century , 11. 1 1 1

1 Natural Theology , Dedicatio n.

THE MORALISTS 2 23

Alike in his natural theology and in his eth icsPaley represents

,as Stephen says

,the commonplace

English mind,

’ 1 and, it may be added, the commo nplaCe

eighteenth-century m ind . H is conception o f the relationo f God to the world is that which is common to theorthodox writers and their deistic opponents

,that o f an

external and mechan ical ‘ First Cause ’

; and his onecontribution to the argument is contained in his famousargument from the ev idences o f design in the phenomenao f nature

,and especially o f the an imal organism,

to adiv ine Designer o r Contriver. This single idea is i llustrated at great length

,especially from the case o f the

human organism ; and the opposing alternatives o f impersonal law or order and o f the development o f organsadapted by use to the demands o f the external conditionso f their life are controverted with great v igour and no

l i ttle acuteness and argumentative skill . The impressionleft upon the mindo f the reader is rather that o fa clever andlawyer- like mind

,as Mackintosh says

,than that o f any

real or original metaphysical insight. In any case the entireargument rests

,l ike that o f Butler in the Analogy, upon

presuppositions,readi ly accepted in the writer’s own age

,

which the progress o f scientific as well as o f metaphysicalthought has rendered no longer tenable . It belongs tothe pre-evolutionary epoch .

The Principles of M oralandPoliticalPhilosophy is a worko f more permanent interest and value . Though its mainideas are confessedly derived from Tucker

,they are

develo ped and applied by Paley to ‘ the situations whicharise in the life o f an inhabitant o f this country in thesetimes

,

’ 1 and to the solution o f many casuistical difficultieswi th a skill

,sagacity

,and knowledge o f l ife which give

them a new value and significance . Like his master,

Tucker,he is unusually successful in avoid ing the common

place and in resisting the temptation to write fo r edification . The key-note o f the work is to be found in asentence o f Dr. Johnson ’s

,quoted in the Preface

,

‘When1 English Thought in the Eighteenth Cen tury ,

1. 409 .

1 Princip les , Preface


the obligations o f moral ity are taught,let the sanctions o f

Christian ity never be forgotten .

’

Paley’s aim is to develop

the system o f ethics from the Christian standpoint ; buthe holds that what is pecul iar to Christian ity is no t the

substance o f Christian moral ity,but the sanctions by

which that morality is enforced,the new motive which

is invoked . The principle o f morality,he agrees wi th

Tucker,is Util ity V i rtue is the doing good to mankind.

’

Christian v irtue is ‘ the doing good to mankind,in obed i

ence to the will o f God, and for the sake o f everlastinghappiness 1 The motive is

,as with Tucker

,self- in terest

,

but the larger self- interest which is appealed Tim-the

Christian idea o f God as, i n His benevolence, willi ngthe happiness o f His creatures. V i rtue thus implies ob l igatio n ; and ‘ a man is said to be obliged when he is .

urged by a violent motive resulting from the command o f

another.’ 1 There is no obligation except from thecommand o f a superior

,who offers a sufficient induce

ment fo r o ur obedience . ‘ And from this account o f

obligation it follows,that we can be obl iged to nothing,

but what we ourselves are to gain or lose something by ;fo r nothing else can be a “ v iolent motive to us. As we

should n o t be obliged to obey the laws, o r the magistrate,unless rewards o r punishments

,pleasure or pain, somehow

or other,depended upon our obedience so neither should

we,without the same reason

,be obl iged to do what is

r ight,to practise v irtue

,or to obey the commands o f

God .

’ 3 In proof o f these div ine sanctions o f v irtueand vice he appeals alike to Scripture and

,as in the

Natural Theology, to the evidences o f benevolent designin the works o f God as revealed in nature . S ince thedesign o f God is the general happiness, we may infer thecongruity or incongruity o f our actions w i th H i s will, theirv irtuous o r v icious character

,by considering their couse

quences, in pleasure or pain, fo r mankind ; and it is toth is secondary o r util itarian criterion, rather than to theultimate rule o f the will o f God, that Paley generally

1 Principles, bk . 1. ch. vu.1 I bid., bk . 11. ch. 11.

1 Loc. cit.


o f duty,the general rule n o t being different in its o r igin

from the rule o f particular uti lity,but representing the

larger util i ty,with which the narrower is always liable to

confl ict. Finally, he so fully recogn ises the util i tarianvalue o f character

,o r o f formed habits o f virtuous actio n

,

and the practical necessity o f allowing this all- importantmeans to take the place o f the end

,as to approximate

very closely to the acknowledgment o f i ts intrinsic and

ultimate value. This is especially true o f the doctrin eo f probation

,in the Natural Theology, which is practically

identical with that o f Butler,in the Analogy. O f the

purpose or design ‘ for which the state in which we areplaced is fitted

,and which it is made to serve

,

’ he says‘ the most probable supposition is ‘

. that it is a State o f

moral probation,and that many things in it suit with

this hypothesis,which suit no other. It is n o t a state

o f unm ixed happiness,or o f happiness Simply ; it is not a

state o f designed misery, or o f misery Simply ; i t is not astate o f retribution ; it is n o t a state o f punishment. Itsuits with none o f these suppositions. It accords muchbetter with the idea o f i ts being a condition calculatedfo r the production

,exercise

,and improvement o f moral

qualities,with a view to a future state

,in which these

qual ities,after being so produced

,exercised

,and improved

,

may,by a new and more favouring constitution o f th ings

,

receive their reward,or become their own .

’

V irtue perhaps is the greatest o f all ends. ’ 1

1 Nat. Theol., ch. xxvi.

CHAPTER IV

THE REVIVAL OF RATIONALISM

PRICE AND REID

THOUGH Reid,as the founder o f the Scottish Philosophy

o f Common Sense, as well as in v irtue o f the larger scaleo f his philosoph ical work

,is decidedly the more important

thinker,yet Price has an importance o f his own

,as the

earl ier writer,and on account o f the remarkable way in

which,in the ethical field

,he anticipates some o f the lead

ing positions o f Kant. The originality o f the Review ofthe Principal Questions in M orals, published in 1 757, is

considerably diminished by the extent to which Price isindebted to Cudworth and C larke, o n the one hand, andto Butler

,on the other . The latter ‘ incomparable

writer is the special object o f Price’s admiration,and he

accepts,so far as they go

,Butler’s v iews o fconscience

,self

love,and benevolence

,agreeing with him especially in his

antagonism to Hutcheson’s doctrines o f the moral senseand o f benevolence as the whole o f virtue, against whichhis own wo rk is one sustained polemic . His chief aim is toshow

,as against Hume’s development o f the doctrine

o f the ‘ moral sense,

’ the absolute and immutable natureo f moral distinctions. The original source o f Hume’sempiricism and scepticism

,in the in tellectual as well as

in the ethical sphere,he finds in Locke’s initial error o f

deriv ing all ‘ sim ple ideas ’

from sensation and reflection .

The under standing,he holds

,gives us not merely know

ledge, but also new simple ideas. ’

Locke’s denial o f th isis the result o f his confusion o f understanding with imagination .

‘ It is a capital error,into which those persons

run who confound the understanding with the imagination


and deny real ity and possibili ty to everyth ing the lattercannot conceive

,however clear and certain to the former.

The powers o f the imagination are very narrow andwe rethe understanding confined to the same limits

,no th in g

could be known,and the very faculty itself would be

annihi lated . Nothing is plainer than that o n e o f theseoften perceives where the other is bl ind ; is surroundedwith l ight where the other finds all darkness ; and, innumberless instances

,knows things to exist o f which the

other can frame no idea.’ 1 While sen se and imaginationhave to do only with particulars, the understanding has todo with universals. Understanding

,as a so urce o f self

evident ideas,must also be d istinguished from reasoning

,

or the investigation o f relations between obj ects, ideas o fwhich we already possess. If any o ne denies the selfevidence o f such original ideas o f the understanding

,we

can only refer him to common sense . If he cannot findthere the perceptio n I have mentioned, he is not fartherto be argued with

,fo r the subj ect will not admit o f argu

ment ; there being nothing clearer than the point i tselfdisputed to be brought to confirm it.’ 1

Among the self-evident ideas apprehended by theunderstanding are those o f right and wrong. The ultimatemoral distinctions belong to the nature o f things

,the im

mutable order o f the universe,and are no more capable o f

proof than ultimate intellectual relations . ‘ There are,undoubtedly

,some actions that are ultimately approved, and

fo r justifying which no reason can be assigned ; as thereare some ends

,which are ultimately desired

,and fo r

choosing which no reason can be given . Were not thistrue

,there would be an infinite progression o f reason s and

ends,and therefore nothing could be at all approved o r

desired .

’ 1 The obligation o f such actions rests upontheir intrinsic nature ; they are obl igatory upon arational being

,apart altogether from reward o r punish

m ent . A rational being,as such

,ought to act no t

from instinct,passion

,or appetite

,n o t even from self- love

1 Review, ch. i. sect. 2 .

1 Loc. cit.1 [bzd. , ch. i. sect. 3.


infinitely ; and that, o n the contrary, by a carelfi illspent life we can get nothing, o r at best (happen what

will ) next to nothing, but may lose infinitely.

” Even

in the present l ife virtue is,in a real sense

,its own

reward ; genuine v irtue and happiness are inseparab le,and the delight which a man takes in v irtuous ac t io nis a sure criterion o f the real ity o f his v irtue. ‘What

our hearts are most set upon will make the principalpart o f o ur happiness. Well therefore may he

suspect his character,who finds that virtuous exerc ises,

the duties o f piety, and the various offices o f love and

goodness to which he may be called,are d istasteful

and i rksome to him . V i rtue is the object o f the chiefcomplacency o f every virtuous man ; the exerc ise o f it

is his chief del ight ; and the consciousness o f it giveshim his highest joy .

’ 1

Thomas Reid is the founder o f the Scottish Philosophyo f Common Sense. H is appeal to Common Sen se con

stitutes a new departure in English philosophy : i t is hisanswer to Hume

,his method o f vind icating the rationality

o f Belief from Hume’s sceptical attack . His essen tialthesis is that the scepticism o f Hume is the reductio ad

absurdum o f the ‘ doctrine o f ideas ’ which is common to

Locke and Descartes. While accepting the experientialand psychological method o f Locke, he dissents from thisCartesian o r

‘ ideal theory,

’ which l imits our knowledgeto ideas and their relations. In this theory he finds thein itial and fatal error which leads to the scepticism o f

Hume . I t was Hume who wo_k_e_Reid l ike Kant, froml1i

_s__dogmat1c v

—vfid

'

fifS—f compelled h1m to quest1on

the philosophical tradi tion in which he had grown up.

I shall always avow myself your disciple in metaphys ics,’

he writes to the great sceptic ; ‘ I have learn ed morefrom your writings in this kind than from all others puttogether . Your system appears to me not only coheren tin all its parts, but l ikewise justly deduced from principles commonly received among philosophers ; princip les

1 Review, Conclusion.

1 I bid., ch. ix.

THE REVIVAL OF RATIONALISM 1 31

which I never thought o f call ing in question unti l theconclusions you drew from them in the “ Treatise o f

Human Nature made me suspect them.

’ 1

The inevitableness o f the sceptical developmen t o f theideal theory is rapidly sketched by Reid in the followingcharacteristic passage. ‘ Ideas seem to have something intheir nature unfriendly to other existences. They werefirst introduced into philosophy in the humble charactero f images o r representatives o f things ; and in this character they seemed no t only to be inoffensive, but to serveadm irably well fo r explaining the operations o f the humanunde rstanding. But

,since men began to reason clearly

and distinctly about them,they have by degrees supplanted

their constituents,and undermined the existence o f every

thing but themselves. First,they discarded all secondary

qualities o f bodies ; and it was found out by their meansthat fire is not hot

,nor snow cold

,no r honey sweet and

,

i n a word,that heat and cold

,sound

,colour

,taste, and

smell,are nothing but ideas or impressions. Bishop

Berkeley advanced them a step higher,and found out, by

j ust reasoning from the same principles, that extension,solidity

,space

,figure and body

,are ideas

,and that there is

nothing in nature but ideas and spiri ts. But the triumpho f ideas was completed by the “ Treatise on HumanNature

,

” which discards spirits also,and leaves ideas and

impressions as the sole existences in the universe.These ideas are as free and independent as the birds o fthe air, or as Epicurus

’s atoms when they pursue theirj ourney in the vast inane . They make the wholefurn iture o f the universe ; starting into existence, orout o f i t

,without any cause ; combin ing into parcels,

which the vulgar call minds ; and succeeding one anotherby fixed laws

,without time

,place

,or author o f those

laws. ’ 2

The in itial error o f Locke was, according to Reid, hispostulating ‘ simple ideas ’

o r‘ simple apprehension as the

elementary datum or material o f knowledge. Hume’s

1 Hill Burton , Life of Hume, 11. 1 55.

1 Works. £ 109 .


sceptical disintegration o f knowledge into unrelated sensations is the inev itable result o f such a start. ‘ S im pleapprehension

,though it be the simplest

,is not the first

operation o f the understanding ; and, instead o f sayingthat the more complex Operations o f the m ind are formedby compounding simple apprehensions

,we ought rather

to say, that simple apprehensions are got by analysingmore complex operations. ’ 1 T he elementary feature o f

knowledge is judgment or belief. We do not first havethe several ideas, and then proceed to compare and relatethem ; every idea ‘ suggests ’ its relation at once to asubj ect and to an obj ect. The mere isolated sensationis the product o f abstraction ; in actual perception thesensation always ‘ suggests

,

’ or carries with it the beliefin a corresponding quality as belonging to the object.In the case o f the secondary qualities, all that is suggestedis some q uality, quite unlike the sensation ; in the case o fthe primary qualities

,we know the qual ity

,though it is

still unlike the sensation .

1

These original and fundamental judgments Reid calls‘ judgments o f nature ’ or ‘

natural suggestions,’ as d is

tinguished from judgments and suggestions which are theresult o f experience

,on the one hand

,or o f reasoning

,o n

the other : they belong to our constitution,’ and are the

presupposition o f all other knowledge. The attempt toprove them is

,therefore

,foredoomed to failure. They

are the ‘ first principles ’ upon which all reasoning rests.O f them ‘ we can give no other account but that theynecessarily result from the constitution o f our facultiesthey are ‘

n o t grounded upon any antecedent reason ing,

but upon the consti tution o f the mind i tself.’ 1 Theybelong to the Common Sense and Reason o f mankind .‘ The power o f judging in self-ev ident proposition sis purely natural

,and therefore common to the learn ed

and the unlearned,to the trained and the untrained. It

requires only ripeness o f understanding,and freedom from

prejudice,but nothing else . ’ 5 ‘ In such controversies

,

1 Wo rks , i. 376.

1 Wo rks , i. 313 ff. 1 Wo rks , i. 455.

1 Wo rks , 1 . 452 .

1 Wo rks , 1. 434.

234. ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

must have penetrated deeply into the nature o f the

Reason,in so far as it is occupied solely with pure

thought,a thing which was inconvenient fo r them. They

invented therefore a more convenient means,by. which,

without any insight,they might defy him

,namely

,the

appeal to the common sense o f mankind . It is indeed agreat natural gift to possess

,straightforward (o r, as it has

been called,plain) common sense. But i t must be proved

by deeds,by the thoughtfulness and rationali ty o f what

o ne thinks and says,and n o t by appealing to it as an

oracle, when one has nothing wise to adduce in o ne’sjustification . When insight and science are at a low ebb,then and not before to appeal to common sense is o n e o f

the subtle inventions o f modern times,by which the

emptiest talker may coolly confront the profoundestth inker and hold out against him . But so long as thereis a small remnant o f insight left, one will be cautiouso f clutching at this straw . And seen in its true l ight, theargument is nothing better than an appeal to the verdicto f the multitude a clamour before which the phi losopherblushes

,and the popular witling scornfully triumphs.

But I should think that Hume can make as good claim to

the possession o f common sense as Beattie, and in addi t ion ,to something the latter certainly did not possess, namely,a critical Reason

,to hold common sense within bounds

in order not to let i t overreach itself in speculations.Chisel and hammer are quite sufficient to shape a p i eceo f deal

,but fo r copper-engraving an etching-needle is

necessary.

’ 1

The fact that Kant couples the philosophy o f Reidwith that o f Oswald and Beattie

,and includes all three

in a common condemnation with their critic, Priestley,suggests that his knowledge o f the Scottish Philosophywas derived from Beattie’s work

,if not from Pr iestley’

s

cri ticism,and amounts to a serious injustice to the foun der

o f the school . Nei ther Beattie, whom S idgwick well describes as

‘a man o f real, but chiefly li terary abil i ty, a

1 Prolegomena, Introd. , Belfo rt Bax’

s trans ., pp . 4—6 .

THE REVIVAL OF RATIONALISM 1 35

poet by choice and a philosopher from a sense o f duty,

’

nor O swald,whom the same writer calls ‘ a theological

pamphleteer,

’ is to be compared with Reid in philosophical power ; and nei ther discriminates, as he does,between the popular and the philosophical meaning o f

the term Common Sense. There are ways o f reasoning,with regard to first principles

,

’ he says,

‘ by which thosethat are truly such may be distinguished from vulgarerrors or prej udices.’ 1 Such principles can be provedindirectly

,if not directly, by showing the absurd and

self-contradictory consequences to which their denialleads. Their ev idence is found in ‘ what is common inthe structure o f all languages

,

’ which represent thecommon and natural judgments o f mankind . His appealis not to

‘ the first man you meet,

’ but to the idealman ; the common basis o f truth can be reached

,he

holds,only by the process o f crit ical reflection . H is first

principles ’ are the presuppositions o f all reasoning,and

the insight into their originali ty and ultimateness,as such

,

is itself the result o f persistent philosophical reflection .

T o j udge o f first principles,requires no more than a

so und mind free from prejudice,and a distinct conception

o f the question but it implies these rare qual ifications .‘ It requires only ripeness o f understan ding

,and freedom

from prejudice,but nothing else. ’ And when we follow

Reid ’s argument in refutation o f the sceptic ism o f Hume,as i t has been sketched above

,we find that it consists

in a philosophical demonstration o f the connexion betweenHume’s conclusions and the premises

,common to his

reaso ning and that o f Locke and Berkeley,not to speak

o f Descartes and sti ll earlier philosophers, the scepticalresult being taken to imply the unsatisfactory charactero f the premises from which it is the logical conclusion .

In sho rt,we find Reid

,l ike Kant

,endeavouring to escape

Hume’s conclusion by rej ecting Hume’s premises which,in the eyes o f both philosophers

,seem to have disproved

themselves by the un thinkableness o f their consequences.

1 Works , 1. 441 .


It must be admitted,however

,that there is an other

Reid who is fitly coupled with Beattie and Oswald, as

the deeper Reid whose method we have descri bed iscoupled with the names o f Adam Ferguson and Duga ldStewart

,who did li ttle else than express in better l iterary

form the thoughts o f their more original predecessor.There is the Reid who does not hesitate to make playfo r the unin itiated with the results o f the ‘ theory o f

ideas ’

; who asserts against Hume the necessity o f thatpractical belief o f which Hume himself had procla imedthe inevitableness ; who betrays fatal inabil ity to understand the significance o f the Berkeleyan idealism,

o r to

distinguish the speculative from the practical aspect o f

philosophical questions. Even at his best, he is apt to

attribute a doctrine o f Representation ism to philosophe rsin whose theories there is n o such tendency whatever, toconfuse the psychological with the philosophical question,and to relapse into that very doctrine o f Representation ismagainst which he so earnestly contends. It is, therefore,greatly to the credit o f the French philosophers o f theearlierhalf o f the nineteen th century that they discoveredthe deeper elements in the Scottish Philosophy, as fo rmulated by its founder— i ts true feeling fo r the ethical andpractical interests

,its enthusiastic acceptance o f the ex

perimen tal method,its preference o f factual observation

to abstract speculation and systematic completeness. In

consequen ce o f these characteristics the philosophy o f

the Scottish school became the official philosophy o f

France,and was taught in i ts colleges, from 181 6 to 1 870 .

In America,to o

,this philosophy acquired an equal influ

ence,and it is to a Scottish president o f an American

university that we owe the most careful account o f itsdetailed development.1

1 J . M ‘Co sh, The S cottish Philosophy


pupil . Even when i t accepts the lesson o f Germanideal ism,

i t insists upon the necess i ty o f a restatemen t o f

that lesson in its own terms, upon the ass imilatio n o f

the foreign to the national type o f phi losophy. And

if i t must be adm itted that the importance o f Englishphiloso phy fo r European thought is not so great as

in the earl ier centuries,that the centre o f interest has

changed from England to Germany,i t is to be remembered

that it was the philoso phy o f Hume that first, accordingto his own well-known admission

,awoke Kant from his

dogmatic slumber,that the Kantian philosophy is a new

departure necessitated by the issue in Hume’s scep ticismo f that empiricism which was o ne o f the characteristicelements i n English philoso phy .

A second new influence which is to be noted,especially

in the development o fEnglish empiric ism in the n ine teen thcentury

,is that o f Natural Science. There is an earlier

phase o f the movement which is strictly a continuationo f the empiricism and associationism o f the eighteen thcentury

,represented by the names o f Bentham

,the two

Mills,and Bain . I ts later phase, identified with the

name o f Spencer, is an elaborate effort to formulate a‘ scientific o r evolutionary philosophy, al ike in the metaphysical and in the ethical field . The agnostic ism o f

Spencer and Huxley is also,in part

,the result o f an

identification o f the scientific with the philoso phicalview o f the un iverse, or o f the limitation o f knowledge tothe phenomenal standpoint o f the natural sciences.

In the movement o f English philosophy in the centurythree main streams o f thought may be distinguished.First

,there is the English developmen t o f Hume’s

empiricism into util i tarianism, association ism,and evo lu

tio nism,the chief names being Bentham

,James M ill

,

J . S . Mill, Bain, and Spencer. Secondly, there i s thedevelopment o f the Scottish Philosophy o f Common Senseby Hamilton into the doctrines o f Natural Real ism and

Relativism its issues in the dual ism o f faith and reason, as

proclaimed by Hamilton and Mansel,and in the agno sticism

o f Spencer and Huxley ; and the return to its charac

THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 1 39

teristic poin t o f view in Calderwood, Martineau, andFraser . Thirdly

,there is the ideal istic answer to Hume

as formulated in the Spiritual philosophy o f Coleridgeand Newman, in the absolute idealism o f Fet rier

,and in

the Neo-Hegelian philosophy o f the later decades o f thecentury, associated with the names o f Stirl ing

,Caird

,

Green,and Bradley .

CHAPTER I

THE ENGLI SH DEVELOPMENT OF HUME’

S

EMPIRICISM : UTILITARIANISM (WITH AS

SOCIATIONISM ) AND EVOLUTIONISM

1 . Utilitarianism andAssociationism Bentham,

James M ill,J. S. M ill

,Bain

FOR the Utilitarians o r Benthamites,as they were called

after the founder o f the school,philosophy was only a

means to social and political reform. They were n o t so

much a philosophical school as a political party,and are

bette r described as‘ philosophical radicals. ’ Thei r Uti li

tarianism was rather a political ideal than an eth icalprinciple

,while their common empiricism and associa

tio n ism were sti ll more subordinate to the practicalpurposes which united them in a common soc ial effort .As we advance from Bentham to James Mill

,and

from the latter to J. S . Mill, we see the theoreticalelement in the U til itarian creed becoming more prom inent. Bentham’s interest is purely practical ; he

preaches U til itarianism as an ideal o f social and pol iticalconduct . James Mill is the psychologist o f the school.As Hoffding says, ‘ his philosophical importance consistsmainly in the fact that he attempted to supply the

psychological bas is which was lacking in Bentham ’

s

ethics,

’ 1 but he extends the application o f the pr inciple o fAssociation to the whole field o f human knowledge .J . S . Mill is the philosopher o f the school : he aloneattempts the ‘ proof ’

o f the principle o f utility,he alone

1 Hist. qf Modern Phil., 11 . 369 (Eng. trans ) .


equal distribution o f happiness,

‘ the greatest happiness o fthe greatest number

,

’ ‘ each to count fo r o ne and no o ne

fo r more than one.’

Nor is it permissible to l imit ourconsideration to the members o f our own community

,o f

our own country the complete expression o f the princ ipleo f Utility is a humanitarian ism which recognises the claimo f every human being to equal consideration .

The standard,then

,alike o f public and private conduct

is the general happiness,and the moral quality o f any action

is determined by its pleasant or painful consequences, sofar as these en ter into the intention o f the agen t . Themotive, o n the other hand

,has nothing to do with the

morality o f the action,and is in all cases self- interest.

Bentham, that is to say, agrees with Tucker and Paley intaking an altruistic view o f the end o r criterion

,and an

egoistic v iew o f the motive,o f virtuous conduct. H is

real interest is in making the appeal to the self- interesto f the indiv idual sufficiently strong to induce him to

subord inate his own to the general happiness ; in otherwords

,in making the ‘ sanctions ’

o f altruistic conductadequate . Besides the legal, he recogn i ses the popular,the social

,and the religious sanctions as it is the function

o f the legislator to make the former adequate, i t i s thefunction o f a true education to see to the effi ciency o f thelatter . The only addition made by Bentham to prev iousstatements o f hedon istic ethics is his insistence upon the

necessity o f an exact calculation o f the consequences o four action as the only sufficient guide to right conduct

,

and his construction o f a ‘ hedonistic calculus ’

fo r th isend . We must take account, no t only o f the inten si tyand duration o f each pleasure

,but also o f i ts certain ty

,

propinquity, fecundity or fruitfulness in further pleasures,and its purity or barrenness in painful consequences. T he

entire calculation is,o f course, in terms o f quantity the

end is the production o f the maximum o f possible pleasureand the minimum o f possible pain .

The chief importance o f James Mill’s Analysis of the

Phenomena of the Human M ind is psychological,but i t is i n

THE UTILITARIANS 1 43

an ethical interest that the psychological investigation isundertaken . Bentham had been satisfied with a crudedoctrine o f psychological hedon ism

,which he rightly

identified with egoism ; and his reconciliation o f psychological egoism with ethical altruism had been equally hastyand ill-considered . Mill ’s obj ect is to Show

,by the em

ployment o f the principle o f Association,the psychological

possibility o f altruistic o r disinterested conduct on the parto f the egoistic o r pleasure-seeking individual . He doesthis by developing the doctrine o f Association in two

directions : first,by insisting upon the growth o f ‘ in

separab le associations ’ which transform what had at firstbeen merely means into ends which are sought fo r theirown sake o r disinterestedly

,and secondly

,by interpreting

the result o f association after the analogy o f a chem icalproduct which is different from the sum o f its elements

,

rather than as a mechan ical combination o f these elements .This analysis o f what had seemed to be simple and ultimatein to a complex o f simpler elements is at the same timeintended as a refutation o f the intuitional o r moral sen seinterpretation o f conscience

,and as a demonstration o f the

empirical and utilitarian,as against a rational istic and in

tuitional account o f the nature o f morality. This ethicals ignificance o f the whole inquiry is made more clear inthe Fragment on M achintosh, in which Mill bitterly attacksa ‘ theory o f the moral sentiments ’ which

,refusing to

fo llow o ut the doctrine o f Association,as he thinks

,to

its full logical consequences, accepts the ult imateness o ft he moral

,as distinguished from the util itarian, element

in the judgments o f conscience .But the scope and interest o f the Analysis are far frombeing lim i ted to ethics ; indeed, as we read it, we areapt to lose sight o f its underlying ethical purpose . It isw ith justice that J . S . Mill describes his father as ‘ therev ive r and second founder o f the Association psycholo gy ’

;1 fo r in his hands that psychology becomes the

basis n o t merely o f an ethical theory but o f a theory o f

1 Preface to ed. o fAnaly sis , p. x11.


knowledge and reality. The result is a restatemen t o f theHumian view o f the world and the self

,and o f the Humian

reduction o f our so -called knowledge to customary bel ief.T he basis o f the theo ry is laid in an extreme nominal

ism . All terms alike are simply the express ion o f the

mean ing o f names,and the only real ity corresponding to

the name is some particular sensation o r idea. Generalterms are the names o f classes

,and these classes cons ist o f

ind iv iduals. ‘ The business o f classification is merely a

process o f naming,and is all resolvable into association .

’ 1

‘M en were led to class solely fo r the purpose o f

economising in the use o fnames. 1 He en tirely Ignores theunderlying connotation which accounts for the denotationo f the general term . As J . S . Mill says, ‘ The onlym eaning o f pred icating a quality at all

,is to affi rm a

resemblance.’ 1 James Mill h imself has to admit thatthe particular principle o f association concerned in

classification is resemblance, which, though he suggeststhat it might possibly be reduced to the principle o f

con tiguity (since l ike particulars occur, and thereforerecur

,together), he finally accepts as an indepen den t

principle.The resulting theory o f predication

,as J . 8. Mill points

o ut,ignores the element o f bel ief involved in i t. ‘ The

characteristic d ifference between a predication and anyother form o f speech

,i s,that i t does not merely bring to

mind a certain obj ect (which is the on ly function o f a

mark,merely as such) , it asserts something respecting

i t . Whatever v iew we adopt o f the psychologicalnature o f Belief

,i t is necessary to d ist ingu ish between the

mere suggestion to the mind o f a certain order amongsensations or ideas— such as takes place when we thinko f the alphabet

,or the numeration table—and the indica

tion that this order is an actual fact,which is occurring,

or which has occurred once o r oftener, o r which,in

certain definite circumstances,always occurs ; which are

the th ings indicated as true by an affi rmative predication,

1 Analysis, 1. 269 .

1 I bid , i. 260 .

1 I bid.,1. 26 1 , no te.


thereby explained .

‘ This succession o f feelings, whichI call my memory o f the past

,is that by which I dis

tinguish my Self. Myself is the person who had thatseries o f feelings

,and I know noth ing o f myself, by direc t

knowledge,except that I had them. But there is a bo n d

o f some sort among all theparts o f the series

,which makes

me say that they were fee ings o f a person who was the

sam e person throughout,and a different person from tho se

who had any o f the parallel successions o f feel ings ; andthis bond, to me, constitutes my Ego . Here

,I think

,the

question must rest,until some psychologist succeeds better

than any o ne has yet done in shewing a mode in which theanalysis can be carried further. ’ 1

The general criticism which J . S . Mill makes upon hisfather’s work is o ne with which there will be generalagreement . ‘ It is ch iefly in leading him to identifytwo ultimate facts with o ne another

,that his love o f

simplification,in itself a feel ing highly worthy o f a

philosopher,seems to mislead h im .

’ 2 On the otherhand

,we must admit

,with the same kindly though

candid cri tic,that the Analysis abounds in ‘ specimens o f

clear and vigorous statement, going straight to the hearto f the matter

,and dwelling o n i t just long enough and n o

longer than necessary. ’ 3 And if we must also agree withLeslie Stephen, that James Mill was ‘ at most a man o f

remarkable talent and the driest and sternest o f logician s,

’ ‘1

and with Macaulay that his style is ‘ as dry as that o fEuclid’s Elements,

’ we must remember that, as the former

writer says,

‘Mill,as a publicist

,a historian

,and a busy

oflicial, had not had much time to spare fo r purely ph ilosophic reading . He was no t a professor in wan t o f a

system,but an energetic man o f business

,wish ing to

strike at the root o f the superstitions to which his pol iticalopponen ts appealed fo r support .’ 5

One reason fo r the inadequate appreciation o f James

Mill by his contemporaries was, in the judgment o f his1 Analy sis , 11. 175.

1 16121 , 11. 380 .1 M , i. 133.

4 Englisk Utilitarians , 11. 38.1

6122, ii. 288.

JOHN STUART MILL 247

so n,that he was not thoroughly in sympathy with the

spiri t o f his own age . As Brutus was called the last o fthe Romans

,so was he the last o f the eighteenth

century ; he cont inued its tone o f thought and sentiment into the nineteen th ( though not unmodified norunimproved ), partaking neither in the good no r in thebad influences o f the reaction against the eighteen thcentury

,which was the great characteristic o f the first

half of the nineteenth .

’ 1 John Stuart Mill himself belongsto the new age ; but the influence o f Bentham and hisfather remained with him to the last, and the result is acurious mingling o f the spirit o f the two centuries. Thek ey at once to the importance and to the defects o f hisphilosophy is to be found in the peculiarity o f his positionas the thinker o f an age o f transition in the fact that herepresents two points o f view

,which he considers h imself

to have reconciled,but whose mutual o ppo sit1o n he never

sufficiently grasped to effect their reconciliation,—the

points o f view o f the eighteenth and o f the nineteenthcentury . It was with deliberate purpose that he undertook the task o f reconciliation .

‘Though,at o n e period

o f my progress, I fo r some time undervalued that greatcentury [the eighteenth], I never joined in the reactionagain st it

,but kept as firm hold o f o ne side o f the truth as

I took o f the other. The fight between the nineteenthcentury and the eighteenth always reminded me o f thebattle about the shield

,o ne side o f which was white and

the other black. I marvelled at the blind rage with whichthe com batants rushed against o ne another. I applied tothem

,and to Coleridge himself

,many o f Coleridge’s

sayings about half truths ; and Goethe’s device

,

“ manyS 1dedness

,

”was o ne which I would most will ingly

,at this

period,have taken fo r mine . ’ 2 ‘The besetting danger

,

’

he remarks in his essay on Coleridge,

‘ is not so mucho f em bracing falsehood fo r truth

,as o f mistaking part o f

the truth fo r the whole .

’ 3 In the Germano-Coleridgiandoctrine ’ he sees ‘ the revolt o f the human mind against

1 p . 204.

1 laid , p. 162 .

1 D zsser/atwn s,i. 399 .


the philosophy o f the eighteenth century.’ ‘ It is o n tological

,because that was experimental ; conservative,

because that was innovative ; religious, because so much

o f that was infidel ; concrete and historical, because that

was matter-o f-fact and mosaic.” He regards Ben thamand Coleridge as the two great seminal minds o fEnglandin their age . ’ 2 ‘Whoever could master the premisesand combine the methods o f both

,would possess the en tire

English philosophy o f his age . Coleridge used to say thatevery one is born either a Platonist or an Aristotelian it

may be similarly affi rmed,that every Englishman o f the

present day is by implication either a Bentham ite o r a

Coleridgian ; holds views o f human afl'

airs which can

only be proved true o n the principles either o f Ben thamo r o f Coleridge. ’ 1 He is convinced o f ‘

the importance,in the present imperfect state o f mental and soc ial sc ien ce,o f antagonist modes o f thought : which, i t will one daybe felt, are as necessary to o ne another in speculation,as mutually checking powers are in the political con

stitution.

’ 4

It is in this deliberate effort to combine two antago n ist icbut, as he believes, complementary points o f view, ratherthan in any defect o f philosophic strenuousness and persistence

,that the explanation o fMill’s ‘ inconsistenc ies ’

is

to be found. It is doubtless true that by the characteristictemper o f his mind

,as well as by reason o f his po sition in

the h istory o f thought,he was incapable o f resting in any

o ne posit ion as finally satisfying ; that, as Lord M orleyhas said, he never desisted, or stood still,

’ but was o f theSocratic household

,

’ in that his mind was always Open tothe apprehension o f new truth

,always ready to listen to

the voice o f the argument and to accept its conclusions,however disturbing to his previous convictions. He him

self speaks o f ‘ my great readiness and eagerness to learnfrom everybody, and to make room in my opinions fo revery new acquisition by adjusting the old and the

new to o n e another. ’ 5 As Professor MacCunn has said,1 D issertation s , i. 403.

1 I bid , i. 331 .

1 i. 397.

1 I bid.,1. 399 .

1 Autobiography , p. 252 .


Iaissez faire doctrine o f the Util itarian s o r ‘ Philo so phicalRadicals,

’ he came later under the influence o f Fren chsocialism ; yet, after making remarkable concess ions tothe latter theory in his Political Economy, he wrote thatessay o n Li berty which has been regarded ever since asthe classical statement o f indiv idualism. Finally

,so far

as the theory o f knowledge and reali ty is concerned, inspite o f the lessons which he learned from German idealismas conveyed to the English m ind by Coleridge and Carlyle,he never saw his way to the surrender o f that doctrine o fAsso ciationism which he had been taught by his father toregard as the final solution o f all metaphysical problems.

The reading o f Bentham’s work, in Dumont’s transla

tion,was

,Mill tells us in the Autobiography, an epoch in

my life one o f the turning-points in my mental h istory.My previous educatio n had been

,in a certain sen se,

already a course o f Benthamism . The Bentham itestandard o f the greatest happiness was that which I hadalways been taught to apply. Yet in the first pages o fBentham i t burst upon me with all the force o f novelty.’

What chiefly impressed him was Bentham’s exposure o fthe concealed dogmatism o f other ethical theories . ‘ Ithad n o t struck me before, that Bentham

’s principle putan end to all this. The feeling rushed upon me, that allprev ious moral ists were superseded

,and that here indeed

was the commencement o f a new era in thought. ’ Thisimpression was confirmed by the scientific form o f

Bentham ’s reasoning,by the method o f detail ’ which he

employed . To the theoretical satisfaction were addedthe most inspiring prospects o f practical improvement inhuman affairs ’ ‘ at every page he seemed to open aclearer and broader conception o f what human opin ionsand insti tutions ought to be

,how they m ight be made

what they ought to be,and how far removed from

i t they now are . When I laid down the first volumeo f the Traité, I had become a different being. Theprinciple o f util ity

,understood as Bentham understood

it,and applied in the manner in which he applied it

JOHN STUART M ILL 25 I

fell exactly into its place as the keystone which heldtogether the detached and fragmentary parts o f myknowledge and beliefs. It gave unity to my conception so f things . I now had opin ions ; a creed, a doctrine, aphi losophy ; in one among the best senses o f the word,a religion ; the inculcation and d iffusion o f which couldbe made the principal outward purpose o f a life . And Ihad a grand conception laid before me o f changes tobe effected in the condition o f mankind through thatdoctrine . ’ 1 Though he afterwards became conscious o f

the serious lim i tations o f Bentham ’s philosophical outlook,

and found it necessary to incorporate in the theory manyelements o f crucial importance which its author hadignored

,Mill's early enthusiasm for the ‘ principle o f

utility ’ never really waned . In the essay on Whewell ’smoral ph ilosophy ( 1852 ) he says :

‘ It is by his methodch iefly that Bentham

,as we think

,justly earn ed a position

in moral science analogous to that o f Bacon in physical .It is because he was the first to enter into the right modeo f working ethical problems

,though he worked many o f

them , as Bacon did physical, o n insufficient data. ’ 2 Itis necessary

,he ins ists in the Utilitarianism

,to re

duce our various moral principles,accepted by the in

tuitio nists as equally ultimate, to ‘o ne first principle

,o r

common ground o f obligation .

’ ‘The n on-existence o f

an acknowledged first principle has made ethics not so

much a guide as a consecration o f men ’s actual sentiments. ’ And he agrees with Bentham that ‘ the fundamental principle o f morality

,and the source o f moral

obligat ion ’is to be found in the principle o f util i ty

,o r

the influence o f actions o n happiness. ’ 3

Perhaps the main factor in effecting the transition fromBenthamism to a more idealistic version o f the Util i tariantheory was the mental crisis through which Mill passedin 1 826

,and from which he found deliverance in the

study o f Wordsworth . The almost complete loss o f

happiness,which was the result o f a to o introspective

1 Antooiog. , pp. 64—66.

1 Dissertations , 11. 462 .

1 Utilit. , ch. 1.


pursu it o f it,taught him the truth o f what at that time I

certain ly had never heard o f,the anti-se lf-co nsciousnas

theory o f Carlyle. I never,indeed

,wavered in the co n

victio n that happin ess is the test o f all rules o f conduct,and the end o f l ife. But I now thought that this endwasonly to be attained by n o t mak ing it the direct end.

Those on ly are happy (I thought) who have their m indsfixed o n some obj ect other than their own happiness o n

the happiness o f others, o n the improvement o f mankind,even o n some art or pursuit

,followed not as a means

,but

as i tself an ideal end . Aiming thus at something else,they findhappiness by the way. Ask yourse lfwhetheryou are happy, and you cease to be so . The on ly chan ceis to treat

,n o t happiness

,but some end external to i t, as

the purpose o f life. This theory now became thebasis o f my ph ilosophy o f life .’ 1 This altered emphasiswas further encouraged by his friendship with Carlyle

,

Maurice,and Sterling

,as well as by the s tudy of the

wri tings o f Coleridge and the acquaintance which hethus acquired with German idealism .

H is close association with the leaders o f the movementcalled Philosophical Radicalism ,

’ and especially h is regardfo r his father’s feelings

,restrained Mill from the expression

o f a dissent which he had gradually learned to en tertainfrom the theory o f U tilitarianism,

as formulated byBentham and accepted by his followers . But two yearsafter the death o f his father

,he publ ished in the London

and Westminster Review ( 1832 ) an essay o n Benthamwhich clearly shows how far he had travelled from orthodoxBenthamism . While still emphasising Bentham’s meritsas a practical reformer

,Mill in this essay depreciates in the

most serious way his qualities as a moral ist. H is fataldefect is his narrowness o f moral v ision, his l imitat ion o f

view ; and this, in turn, is the result o f his defect o f

sympathy and imagination . Bentham’s disregard o f all

previous theories,as vague generalities

,

’ has blinded him to

much that is essential in the moral nature o f man these

1 Autooiograpfiy , p. 142 .


probity andbeneficence . It will enable a society whichhas attained a certain state o f spiritual developmen t, andthe main tenance o f which in that state is otherw iseprovided fo r

,to prescribe the rules by which it may

protect i ts material interests. It will do nothingfo r the spiritual interests o f society .

’ 1 If the princ ipleo f utility is to be justly interpreted

,i t must be applied to

all the facts o f our moral experience. In particular, itmust explain

,n o t ignore or explain away

,the co nscien

tious feel ings o f mankind ; i t must take account o f, andinterpret

,the ideal interests o f human life. In the essay

o n Liberty,published in 1 859, but

‘ first plann ed andwritten as a Short essay in he says : ‘ I regardutil i ty as the ultimate appeal o n all eth ical questions ; butit must be utili ty in the largest sense

,grounded on the

permanent interests o f man as a progressive being .

’ 2

He adopts as the motto o f the essay the words o f V o n

Humboldt ‘The grand,leading principle

,towards which

every argument unfolded in these pages directly converges,

is the absolute and essential importance o fhuman development in i ts richest diversity.

’ He quotes with approvalthe same author’s doctrine that the end o f man

,or that

which is prescribed by the eternal or immutable dictateso f reason

,and n o t suggested by vague and transient

desires,is the highest and most harmonious development

o f his powers to a complete and consistent whole,

’ andthat, therefore, the obj ect ‘ towards which every humanbeing must ceaselessly direct h is efforts

,and on which

especially those who design to influence their fellow-men

must ever keep their eyes,is the individuality o f power

and development . ’ 3 T o‘ ind ividuali ty as one o f the

elements o f well-being ’ he devotes perhaps the mostimportant chapter o f the work.

It is n o t surprising,therefore

,to findMill

,in the essay

on Utilitarianism,

first published as a series o f articlesin Fraser

’

s M agaz ine in 1 861 , announcing his greatinnovation upon all previous versions o f the hedonistic

1 D issertations , i. 363- 5.

1 Liberty , Introd.1 I bid., ch. iii.

JOHN STUART M ILL 2 55

theory o f morals—the doctrine that pleasures differ inkind or quality

,as well as in quantity or degree ; that

mental are superior to bodily pleasures,not only

,as

previous hedonists have insisted, i n their ‘ circumstantialadvantages

,

’ but in their ‘ intrinsic nature.’ ‘ It is quitecompatib le with the principle o f util ity to recognisethe fact that some kinds o f pleasure are more desirableand more valuable than others. It would be absurdthat while

,i n estimating all other th ings

,quality is

cons idered as well as quantity, the estimation o f pleasures should be supposed to depend on quantity alone.’

‘ A be ing o f higher faculties requires more to makehim happy

,is capable probably o f more acute suffering

,

and certainly accessible to it at more points,than one

o f an in ferIOr type ; but in Spite o f these liabil ities,he

can never really wish to sink in to what he feels to

be a lower grade o f existence .’ This unwillingnessis due to ‘ a sense o f dignity

,which all human beings

possess in one form or another, and in some, thoughby no means in exact

,proportion to their h igher faculties

,

and which is so essential a part o f the happiness o f thosein whom it is strong that nothing which confl icts withit could be

,otherwise than momentarily

,an obj ect o f

desire to them .

’ 1

S imilarly he recognises the sense o f duty or ‘ the conscien tious feelings o fmankind,

’

as the ‘ internal sanction o f

right conduct,which he adds to the ‘ external sanctions ’

o f Bentham .

‘ Its binding force consists in the existence o f a mass o f feeling which must be broken throughin order to do what violates our standard o f right

,and which

,

if we do nevertheless violate that standard,will probably

have to be encountered afterwards in the form o f remorse.Whatever theory we have o f the nature o r origin o f

conscience,this is what essentially constitutes it .’ It

does n o t follow that, because the ‘ moral feelings ’ arenot innate but acquired, they are the less natural : ‘ themoral faculty

,if no t a part o f our nature

,is a natural

Utilit. , ch. 11 .


outgrowth from it.’ There is ‘ a natural basis o f sentiment fo r uti li tarian moral ity

,

’ in which its real strengthis found. ‘ This firm foundation is that o f the socialfeelings o f mankind ; the desire to be in un ity witho ur fellow creatures . This feel ing in most individualsis much inferior in strength to their selfish feelings

,and

is often wanting altogether. But to those who haveit, i t possesses all the characters o f a natural feeling.

It does not present itself to their minds as a supersti t iono f education

,or a law despotically imposed by the power

o f society,but as an attribute which it would no t be

well fo r them to be without. This conviction is the ultimate sanction o f the greatest happiness morality.

’ 1

Although Hume had recognised the existence o f

sympathy or disinterested regard fo r the general happiness,Bentham, l ike Paley, had insisted upon self- interest as theonly possible motive o f human conduct. Mill affi rmsthe possibility o f altruism in the motive

,as well as in

the end or criterion,o f right action .

‘ Let utili tariansnever cease to claim the morality o f self-devotion as apossession which belongs by as good a right to themas either to the Stoic or to the Transcendental ist. Theutilitarian morality does recognise in human beings thepower '

o f sacrificing thei r own greatest good for the goodo f others. It only refuses to admit that the sacrifice isitself a good . AS between his own happiness and thato f others

,utilitarianism requires him [the indiv idual] to

be as strictly impartial as a disinterested and benevolentspectator. In the golden rule o f Jesus o f Naz areth weread the complete Spiri t o f the ethics o f uti lity . T o doas you would be done by

,and to love your neighbour

as yourself,constitute the ideal perfection o f util i tar ian

morali ty. If the impugners o f the util itar ian moralityrepresented it to their minds in this its true character

,

I know not what recommendation possessed by any othermorality they could possib ly affirm to be wanting to it ;what more beautiful or more exalted developments o f

1 I bid , ch. iii.


o f social and political reform,and that the pr inciple o f

individual li berty was more important,in his eyes as well

as in theirs,than that o f util ity.

‘ It is plain,

’

says Professo r Dicey

,that it is the doctrine o f laissez faire which

has really governed Benthamite legislation .

’ 1 ‘ Thoughlaissez faire i s not an essential part o f utilitarianism i twas practically the most vital part o f Bentham’s legislativedoctrine

,and in England gave to the movement fo r the

reform o f the law,both its powers and i ts character.’ 1

The intensity o f the ind iv idualism o f the Utilitarianswas chiefly due to their conviction that the greatsocial evi l was the predominance o f class- interests o vernational interests in determining the action o f Government . The constant object o f their attack was that sinisterinterest ’ which

,in one form or another, was always

asserting itself as the rival o f the true interest o f soc ietyand

,therefore

,o f the ind iv idual . It was because the only

government they knew was a government v itiated by selfinterest

,because in their experience

‘ a political trust washabitually confounded with private property

,

’ 1 that theyfound it necessary to defend the individual from governmental interference with his in terests. The representativeand democratic form o f government does not save it fromthis ev i l in some ways

, as Mill argues, i t only intensifiesthe ev il . Mill’s essay on Liberty is the philosophicalstatement o f this U til i tarian v iew o f the relation o f

society to the ind ividual. Professor Dicey says that i t‘ appeared

,to thousands o f admiring disc iples

,to provide

the final and conclusive demonstration o f the absolutetruth o f indiv idual ism

,and to establish on firm ground

the doctrin e that the protection o f freedom was the o ne

great obj ect o f wise law and sound policy .

"1 ‘ Suchphrases as “ self-government ” and “ the power o f thepeople over Mill argues

,

‘ do no t expressthe true state o f the case.’

Even in a democracy it is

1 Law and Opinion in England, p. 145, no te .

1 [bid. , p . 146.

3 Leslie S tephen , English Utilitarians , 11. 90 ,

1 Law and Opin ion in E ngland, p. 182.

JOHN STUART M ILL 259

only a part o f the people,the majority

,that really

governs ; and the ‘ tyranny o f the majori ty ’ is no t lessreal than that o f the indiv idual despot ; i t may well be aneven more oppressive form o f tyranny

,since it is social

as well as political, ‘ penetrating much more deeply intothe details o f life

,and enslaving the soul itself.’ The

inev i table result o f th is oppression o f the individual bysociety is the encouragement o fmediocrity, the d iscouragement o f distinction .

‘Those whose opinions go by thename o f public opinion are not always the same sort o fpublic . But they are always a mass

,that is to say,

collective medio crit

What,then

,Mill asks, is the proper lim i t o f govern

mental interference with the liberty o f the indiv idual ?‘ The sole end

,

’ he repl ies,

‘ fo r which mankind arewarranted

,individually or collectively

,in interfering with

the lIberty o faction o f any o f their number, is self-proteot ion The only purpose fo r which power can berightfully exercised over any member o f a civ il ised community

,against his will

,is to prevent harm to others.

His own good,either physical or moral

,is not a sufficient

warrant. The only part o f the conduct o f any one,fo r which he is amenab le to society, is that which concerns others. In the part which merely concerns himself,h is independence is

,o f right, absolute. Over h imself,

o ver his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign .

The only freedom which deserves the name, is thato f pursuing our own good in our own way, so long as wedo not attempt to deprive others o f theirs, or impede theire fforts to obtain it. ’ This principle follows

,Mill argues

,

from that o f U til ity in the largest sense, grounded o n the

permanent interests o fman as a progressive being.

’ Mankind are greater gainers by suffering each other to l ive asseems good to themselves, than by compelling each to

live as seems good to the rest.’ 1 The individual, ashe has the most intimate knowledge o f his own good,is also the best judge o f the means which lead to i t.

1 Liberty , Introd.


Moreo ver, ‘ i t is des irable that in things which do no t

primari ly concern o thers, individuality should assert itself.Where

, no t the person's own character, but the traditio ns

or customs o f other people,are the rules o f conduct, there

is wanting one o f the chief ingredients o f human happiness, and quite the chief ingredient o f in div idual and

social progress .

’ 1 It is des irable,in the interests o f the

general well-being,that there should be as many and as

varied experimen ts in liv ing as possib le ; even eccen tricityi s better than the dull and dead uniformity o f type whichis encouraged by social and poli tical control o f the individual . Finally

,every addition to the funct ions o f go vern

ment consti tutes a new step in the direction o f bureaucracy,and bureaucracy is the grave o f indiv iduality.

On the other hand,i t is to be noted that there is

nothing in Mill’s theory o f indiv idual liberty to inval idatethe increasing interference o f the State with the industriall iberty o f the individual ; and we know, from his treatiseo n Poli tical Economy (especially the chapter ‘ On theProbable Futuri ty o f the Labouring as well asfrom his Autobiography, how far he was willing to goin the direction o f Social ism and how carefully hesought to co -ordinate economic with ethical well-being.

Even in the essay on Li berty he protests against ‘ misapplied notions o f liberty

,

’ as ‘ a real obstacle to the fulfilment by the State o f i ts duties

,

’ and affirms that ‘ theState

,while it respects the l iberty o f each in what specially

regards himself,is bound to maintain a v igilant control

over his exerc ise o f any power which it allows him to

possess over others.’As regards the State’s interference

with the industrial life,in particular

,he insists upon

the distinction between econom ic and moral freedom.

Restrictions on trade, or o n production fo r purposes o ftrade

,are indeed restraints and all restraint

, qud restraint,is an ev i l : but the restraints in question affect only thatpart o fconduct which society is competent to restrainAs the principle o f ind iv idual l iberty is not involved in the

1 Liberty , ch. iii. 1 Polit. Econ . bk . iv. ch. v11.


faculties —that which derives all knowledge from experience, and all moral and intellectual qualit ies principallyfrom the direction given to the asso ciations. The

notion that truths external to the mind may be known byintuition or consciousness

,independently o f observation

and experience,is,I am persuaded

,in these t imes, the

great intellectual support o f false doctrines and bad institutio n s. By the aid o f this theory

,every inveterate

belief and every intense feeling,o fwhich the origin is not

remembered,is enabled to dispense with the obligation o f

justifying itself by reason, and is erected into its own allsufficient voucher and justification. There never wassuch an instrument devised fo r consecrating all deepseated prejudices.’ 1

Empiricism is ‘ the doctrine o f the school o f Locke and

o f Bentham,

’

as opposed to that o fGerman T ranscenden

talism and Scottish Intuitionism ; and Mill is convin cedthat the truth l ies with the former type o f ph ilosoph icaltheory. We see no ground fo r believ ing that anythingcan be the object o f our knowledge except our experience

,

and what can be inferred from our experience by the

analogies o f experience itself ; nor that there is any idea,feeling

,or power in the human mind

,which

,in order to

account fo r i t,requires that its origin should be referred

to any other source.’ 1 Yet the Transcendental ists haveperformed the important service o f compelling that‘ entire renovation o f which the Lockian doctrine stoodin need . ‘ It perhaps required all the violence o f theassaults made by Reid and the German school uponLocke’s system

, to recall men’s minds to Hartley’sprinciples

,as alone adequate to the solution, upon that

system,o f the peculiar difficulties which those assailan ts

pressed upon men ’s attention as altogether insoluble byi t . ’ 1 The repudiation o f the shallow doctrine o f FrenchIdeology

,that corrupt version o f the Lockian trad ition

,

was ‘ the first sign that the age o f real psychologywas about to commence."1 In his Autobiography Mill

1 Autobiogq p . 225.1 I bid. , 1. 41 2 .

1 I bid. , 1. 41 1 .

JOHN STUART MILL 63

speaks o f ‘ analytic psychology ’ as ‘ that most important branch o f speculation

,on which all the moral

and pol itical sciences ultimately rest .’ 1 As h is aim inethics is to develop the implications o f the principle o f

U ti l i ty, his purpose in the discussion o f the widerquestions o f general philosophy is to develop and app lythe principle o f Association

,the principle o f Hartley

,as

modified by his father in the Analysis. The result isseen in the System of Logic and the Examination of Sir

William Hamilton’s Philosophy, the former published in

1 843, the latter in 1 865.

The Logic i s Mill’s only systematic treatise in philo

sophy ; and apart from its speculative interest,i t is a

work o f epoch-making impo rtance in logical theory . Hoffding’s estimate is hardly exaggerated when he says that‘ it is not easy to find a parallel to this work unless we goback to Aristotle ; what the latter did fo r the syllogismand fo r deductive logic, Mill has done fo r induction

,

fo r the logic o f experimental science. ’ 2 As Aristotlereduced to rule the procedure o f the Socratic and Platon icdialectic

,Mill has formulated the methods underlying

and regulating the procedure o f modern science.As the Aristotelian logic states the methods o f argumentation

,Mill’s logic states the methods o f experi

mentation . The great merit o f Mill,as compared with

Bacon,his only important predecessor in this field

,is that

he appreciates the value o f the deductive method as anindispensable element in the complete method o f science.While he insists

,no less emphatically than Bacon

,upon

the inductive basis o f all scientific explanation,he sees

the limitation o f an induction which is not supplementedby deduction . If Bacon ’s repudiation o f the deductive method was necessary as a protest against theempty argumentation o f Scholastic philosophy

,the lesson

needed by the modern scientific mind is that thecomplete sc ientific method is deductive as well as induct 1ve, and that the ideal o f scientific explanation is the

1 Autobiog. , p . 204.

1 Ein leitung in die englische Philosophie unserer "eit, p. 33.


combination o f induction and deduction, o f analys is and

synthesis.The aim o f all scientific investigation being the dis

covery o f the causal relations o f phenomena,and the cause

be ing the unconditional anteceden t— that cond ition, orsum o f conditions

,whose presence is followed by the

presence o f the consequent and whose absence is followedby the absence o f the consequent

,what is needed is some

clear guide to the detection o f these causal relations.Mill formulates five such guiding methods— the metho d o fagreement

,that o f difference, the joint or double method

o f agreement and difference,the method o f residues

,and

that o f concomitan t variations. The common feature ofthese methods— the one real method o f Scientific inquiry—is

,as Taine points out

,that o f el imination .

1 All theother methods are thus subordinate to the method of

difference. Here we have a case o f the occurrence o f thephenomenon under investigation and a case o f i ts nonoccurrence, these cases hav ing every c ircumstance incommon save o ne

,that one occurring on ly in the former ;

and we are warran ted in concluding that this ci rcumstance,

in which alone the two cases diEer, i s ei ther the cause ora necessary part o f the cause o f the phenomenon .

It is only in the simpler cases o f causal connexion,how

ever,that we can apply these direct methods o f observation

and experiment. In the more complex cases we have toemploy the ‘ deductive method,

’ which consists o f threeoperations— induction, ratiocination or deduction, andverification .

‘ To the Deductive Method,thus charac

terised in i ts three constituent parts—Induction, Ratiocinatio n

,and Verificatio n— the human mind is indebted

fo r its most conspicuous triumphs in the investigation o f

nature . To it we owe all the theories by which vast andcomplicated phenomena are embraced under a few simplelaws

,which

,considered as the laws o f those great pheno

mena,could never have been detected by their direct

study.

’ 1 We deduce the law o r cause o f a complex effect1 Lepositivisme anglais , Eng. trans . , p. 58.

1 Logic, bk . iii. ch. xi. sect. 3.


sequence, had previously become fam i liar. The mo reobvious o f the particular uniformities suggest, and giveev idence o f

,the general uniformity

,and the gen eral

uniformity,once established

,enables us to prove the

remainder o f the particular uniformities o f which it i smade up.

’ 1 These early inductions,which result in

the law o f universal causation,cannot belong to the same

type as those rigorous inductions which conform to the

canon s o f scientific induction and presuppose the law o f

universal causation ; they belong to ‘ the loose and

uncertain mode o f induction per enumerationem simplicem.

’

How,then

,can a process whose basis is thus loose and

uncertain have any certain validity ? Mill’s answer isthat induction by simple enumeration

,or ‘ generalisat ion

o f an observed fact from the mere absence o f any knowninstance to the contrary

,

’as contrasted with the crit ical

induction o f science,is a valid

,though a fallible process,

which must precede the less fallible form s o f the inductiveprocess

,and that ‘ the precariousness o f the method o f

simple enumeration is in an inverse ratio to the largenesso f the generalisation .

’ ‘ As the sphere widens,this un

scientific method becomes less and less liable to mislead ;and the most universal class o f truths

,the law o f causation

,

fo r instance,and the principles o f number and geometry

,

are duly and satisfactorily proved by that method alone,

no r are they susceptible o f any other proof.’ 1

The universali ty o f the law o f causation,as it is an

induction from our experience,does not extend to circum

stances unknown to us,and beyond the possible range o f

our experience .’ In distan t parts o f the stellar regions,where the phenomena may be entirely unlike those withwhich we are acquainted

,i t would be folly to affi rm co n

fiden tly that this general law prevails, any more than thosespecial ones which we have found to hold universally onour own planet. The uniformity in the succession o f

events,otherwise called the law o f causation

,must be

received,no t as a law o f the universe

,but o f that portion o f

1 Logic, I I I . xxi. 2 .

2 I bid. , I I I . xxi. 3.


i t only which is within the range o f our means o f sureobservation

,with a reasonable degree o f extension to

adjacent cases. T o extend it further is to make a supposit ion without evidence

,and to which

,in the absence o f

any ground from experience fo r estimating its degree o f

probabil ity,i t would be idle to attempt to assign any .

’ 1

There is no difficulty in conceiving ‘ that in someone

,fo r i nstance

,o f the many firmamen ts in to which

sidereal astronomy now divides the universe,events may

succeed one another at random without any fixed law ;

nor can anything in o ur experience,or in our mental

nature, constitute a sufficient, or indeed any, reason fo rbelieving that this is nowhere the case . ’ 1

The appearance o f paradox in the v iew that the law o f

causation is at once the presupposition and the result o finduction disappears

,according to Mill

,with ‘ the o ld

theory o f reasoning,which supposes the universal truth

,

or major prem ise,in a ratiocination

,to be the real proof

o f the particular t ruths which are ostensibly inferredfrom it.

’ 3 His own view is that ‘ the major premiseis not the proof o f the conclusion

,but is i tself proved

along with the conclusion,from the same evidence .

The old theory implies that the syllogism is a petitioprincipii

,S ince the conclusion which is supposed to be

proved is already contained in the major premise ; if weknow that ‘ all men are mortal

,

’ we know,and do not

require to prove,that Socrates is mortal .’

No reasoningfrom generals to particulars can

,as such

,prove anything

,

since from a general principle we cannot infer anyparticulars

,but those which the principle itself assumes

as known .

"1 The only use o f the syllogism is to co n

v ict your opponent o f inconsistency ; i t cannot lead usfrom the known to the unknown. In reali ty the majorprem ise is a register o f prev ious inductions and a shortformula fo r making more. ‘The conclusion is not aninference drawnfrom the formula, but an inference drawnaccording to the formula ; the real logical antecedent

1 Logic, 122114 1114 2 1. 1 .

2 1254 , I I I . xxi. 4.1 I bzd , 11 . iii. 2 .


or premise being the particular facts from which the

general propos ition was collected by induction .

’ 1 The

major premise is merely a shorthand note, to assist thememory.

‘The inference is finished when we have asserted that all men are mortal . What remains to be performed afterwards is merely deciphering our own notes.’

The mistake o f the trad itional view is that o f referring ape rson to h is own notes fo r the origin o f his knowledge.If a person is asked a question

,and is at the moment

unable to answer i t,he may refresh his memory by turning

to a memorandum which he carries about with him . Butif he were asked

,how the fact came to his knowledge,

he would scarcely answer,because it was set down in

his notebook : unless the book was written, l ike theKoran

,with a quill from the wing o f the angel Gabriel. ’ 1

All inference is from particulars to particulars ; thesyllogistic process is only an interpretation o f our noteso f previous inferences. ‘ If we had sufficiently capaciousmemories

,and a sufficient power o f maintaining order

among a huge mass o f details,the reason ing could go o n

ithout any general proposition s they are mere formulafo r inferring particulars from particulars. ’ 8

Syllogistic reasoning is thus a circuitous way o f reach inga conclusion which might have been reached directly,like going up a hi ll and down again when we mighthave travelled along the level road . There is n o reasonwhy we should be compelled to take the ‘ high prioriroad ’ except ‘ the arbitrary fiat o f logicians. ’

No t onlymay we reason from particulars to particulars withoutpassing through generals

,but we perpetually do so

reason . All our earl iest inferences are o f this nature.’ 4

Mill,however

,acknowledges ‘ the immense advantage,

in point o f securi ty fo r correctness,which is gained by

interposing this step between the real ev idence and theconclusion

,

’ the importance o f ‘ the appeal to formerexperience in the major premise o f the syllogism.

"5

When we say that Socrates is mortal,because he is a

1 Logic, I I . iii. 4.

2 [bid. , 3.

2 l bicl. , I I I . iv. 3.

1 1224 , I I . iii. 3.

5 1224 , 6.


geometry ‘ is built on hypotheses ; that i t owes to thisalo ne the peculiar certainty suppo sed to distinguish it ;and that in any science whatever, by reaso ning froma set o f hypotheses

,we may obtain a body o f conclus ions

as certain as those o f geometry,that is, as strictly in

accordance with the hypotheses,and as irresistibly com

pelling assent,

on condition that those hypotheses aretrue . ’ 1 As fo r the axioms which, together with : the

definitions, form the basis o f geometrical reasoning, theyare in real ity experimental truths

,general isations from

obse rvation .

’ The great argument fo r their a prioricharacter is that their oppos ites are inconceivable. Butconceivabil ity ‘ has very li ttle to do with the possibi li tyo f the thing in itself, but is in truth very much anaffair o f accident

,and depends o n the past history and

habits o f our own minds.’ 1 It is the effect o f habitualassoc iation

,i tself the result o f our earliest and most

widely based inductions from experience ; i t is an ac

quired incapacity which can hardly but be mistaken fo r anatural o ne

,an eXperimental truth which can hardly but

be mistaken fo ra necessary one.It is i n the application o f the inductive and psychologicalmethod to social and political problems that Mill seesthe crowning achievement o f scientific investigation .

This application has yet to be made ; the GermanoColeridgian school ’ were ‘ the first (except a soli tarythinker here and there) who inqui red with any comprehensiveness o r depth, into the inductive laws o f theexistence and growth o f human society.

’ 1 To the co nsideration o f this new sc ience o f ‘ Ethology,

’ or theStudy o f the causes influencing the formation o f nationalcharacter

,the final book o f the Logic is devoted . In

thus seeking to inaugurate a sc ientific Sociology, Millwas undoubtedly influenced by Comte, but he was alsoproceed ing o n the familiar lines o f the Utilitarian s

,

who always regarded character as the product o f circumstances

,and looked to education to effect the transit ion

1 Logic, I I . v. 1 .1 I bid., I I . v. 6.

1 Dissertations , i. 425,


from the present unsatisfactory State o f things to o ne

more in accordance with their social ideal. The indefinite modifiability o f human nature by circumstancesis the working hypothesis o f the school all that Mill addsis the demand that social life be conducted o n scientificprinciples. It is Sign ificant that Mill finally abandonedthe intention to construct the scheme o f Such a science,and devoted his energies to the wri ting o f h is PoliticalEconomy, publ ished five years after the Logic, in 1 848. Itwould be d ifficult to reconcile the v iew o f the growtho f character implied in the desiderated ‘ Ethology ’ withhis ins istence upon the importance o f indiv iduality

,and

his protest against the interference o f society with theliberty o f the individual, in the essay o n Liberty, publishedin 1 859.

Mill ’s only other work in general philosophy is theExamination of Sir William Hamilton

’

s Philosophy, published in 1 865.

‘ I mean in th is book,

’ he wri tes toBain

,to do what the nature and scope o f the “ Logic

forbade me to do there,to face the ultimate meta

physical difficulties o f every question o n which I touch .

’ 1

The discussion o f Hamilton ’s philosophy was intended,

as we learn from the Autobiography, to be made theoccasion o f a thorough-going examination o f the rivalphilosophies o f Intuition ism and Empiricism,

the co n

troversy between which had, in Mill’s eyes

,as we

have already seen,the utmost practical and social signifi

cance. ‘The difference between these two schools o f

philo sophy,that o f Intuit ion, and that o f Experience

and Associat ion, is not a mere matter o f abstract Speculation ; i t is full o f practical consequences, and lies atthe foundation o f all the greatest differences o f practicalOpinion in an age o f progress. The practical reformerhas con tinually to demand that changes he made inthings which are supported by powerful andwidely-spreadfeelings

,or to question the apparent necessity and inde

1 Letters , i. 271 .


feasibleness o f es tablished facts ; and it is o ften an indispensable part o f his argument to Show how those powerfulfeelings had thei r origin

,and how those facts came

to seem necessary and indefeas ible . There is thereforea natural hostility between him and a philosophy whichdiscourages the explanation o f feelings and moral factsby circumstances and association

,and prefers to treat

them as ultimate elements o f human nature a philosophywhich is addicted to holding up favourite doctrines as

intuitive truths,and deems intuition to be the vo ice

o f Nature and o f God, speaking with an authority higherthan that o f our reason . In particular

,I have long

felt that the prevailing tendency to regard all the markeddistinctions o f human character as innate

,and in the

main indelible,and to ignore the irresistible proofs that

by far the greater part o f those differences,whether

between individuals,races

,or sexes

,are such as no t

only might but naturally would be produced by differencesin circumstances

,is o ne o f the ch ief hindrances to the

rational treatment o f great social questions, and o ne o f

the greatest Stumbling,blocks to human improvement. ’

It was necessary,therefore

, to determine the issue betweenthese two philosophies. The pretensions o f Intuition ismhad received a series o f salutary checks by the publ icationo f the elder Mill’s Analysis, o f Mill

’s own Logic, and o f

Professor Bain ’s great treatise . ’ ‘ But I had fo r sometime felt that the mere contrast o f the two philosophieswas n o t enough

,that there ought to be a hand-to-hand

fight between them,that controversial as well as expository

writings were needed,and that the time was come when

such controversy would be useful . Considering thenthe writings and fame o f S i r W. Hamilton as the greatfortress o f the intui tional ph ilosophy in this country, afortress the more formidable from the imposing character,and the in many respects great personal merits and mentalendowments

,o f the man

,I thought i t might be a real

service to philosophy to attempt a thorough examinationo f all his most important doctrines, and an estimateo f his general claims to eminence as ‘

a philosopher.’ This


inexplicable tie,o r law

,the organic union (as Pro fesso r

Masso n calls it) which connects the present consc iousnesswith the past o ne, o f which it reminds me

,is as near as I

think we can get to a posi tive conception o f the Self.That there is something real In this tie

,real as the sensa

tions themse lves,and n o t a mere product o f the laws o f

thought without any fact corresponding to i t,I hold to be

indubitable. This original element, which has no

community o f nature with any o f the th ings answering toour nam es

,and to which we cannot give any name but

i ts own peculiar one without implying some false o r

unguarded theory,is the Ego , o r Self. As such, I ascribe

a reality to the Ego— to my own Mind—different fromthat real existence as a Permanent Possibili ty, which isthe only real ity I acknowledge in Matter : and by fairexperiential inference from that one Ego , I ascribe thesame reality to other Ego es, or Minds. We are forcedto apprehend every part o f the series as l inked with the

other parts by something in common,which is no t the

feelings themselves,any more than the succession o f the

feelings is the feelings themselves : and as that which isthe same in the first as in the second

,in the second as in

the third,in the third as in the fourth

,and so on

,must

be the same in the first and in the fiftieth,this common

element is a permanent element.’ 1

The posthumously published volume o fEssays on Religion

contains three essays—o n Nature,the Util i ty o f Rel igio n,

and Theism. The first and second were written between1 850 and 1 858, that is, during the same period as theessays o n Utilitarian ism and on Liberty, while the th irdbelongs to a much later time

,hav ing been written between

1 868 and 1870 , and is thus ‘ the last considerable wo rkwhich he completed

,

’ and ‘ shows the latest state o f the

Author’s mind,the carefully balanced result o f the

deliberations o f a l ifetime . ’ 2

The first essay is a protest against the view that the ideal

1 Examination , pp. 262 , 263.

1 Essay s on Religion, Preface.


o f human conduct is found in conformity to Nature. Itreminds us o f Huxley’s later condemnation In his famousRomanes lecture on Evolution and Eth ics, o f the cosm icprocess from the ethical point o f v iew .

‘ In sober truth,

nearly all the things which men are hanged or imprisonedfo r doing to o n e another

,are nature’s every day perform

anecs.’ 1 It is a protest rather against naturalistic ethicsthan against Natural Theology

,but the latter is included

in the same condemnation with the former type o f theory.

The Author o f Nature cannot be at once good andomnipotent .The main argument o f the essay on the Utility o f

Religion,which

,l ike that on Nature

,is a fine specimen

o f Mill’s philosophical style,is the sufficiency o f the

Religion o f Humanity and its superiority to all but thebest o f the supernatural religions. Let i t be rememberedthat if indiv idual l ife is short

,the life o f the human species

is not short ; i ts indefinite duration is practically equiva

lent to endlessness ; and being combined with indefinitecapabi l ity o f improvement, i t offers to the imagination andsympathies a large enough obj ect to satisfy any reasonable demand fo r grandeur o f aspiration .

’ 1 ‘The essenceo f rel igion is the strong and earnest direction o f theemotions and desires towards an ideal obj ect

,recogniz ed as

o f the highest excellence,and as rightfully paramount over

all selfish objects o f desire . This condition is fulfilled bythe Religion o f Humanity in as eminent a degree

,and in

as high a sense,as by the supernatural religions even in

their best manifestations,and far more so than in any

o f their others . ’ 1 The characteristic tenden cy o f supernaturalism is to arrest the development no t only o f theintellectual but also o f the moral nature . Its appeal is toself- interest rather than to disinterested and ideal motives ;and l ike the intuitional theory o f ethics

,i t Stereotypes

morality. The Special appeal o f supernatural rel igion isto our sense o f the mystery which circumscribes our littleknowledge ; but the same appeal is made, and the same

1 Essay s on Religion , p . 28.1 I bid. , p. 106.

1 I bid., p. 109.


service to the imaginatio n rendered, by Po etry. Re ligionand poetry address themselves, at least in o ne o f the iraspects

,to the same part o f the human constitutio n they

both supply the same want,that o f ideal concep tio ns

grander and more beautiful than we see real iz ed in the

prose o f human life. ’ 1 The idealiz ation o f our earthlylife

,the cultivation o f a high conception o f what it

may be made,’

is ‘ capable o f supplying a poetry, and, inthe best sense o f the word

,a rehgio n , equally fi tted to

exalt the feelings,and (with the same aid from education)

sti ll better calculated to ennoble the conduct, than any

belief respecting the unseen powers.’ 1 Yet he to

whom ideal good,and the progress o f the world towards

i t,are already a religion ’

may find consolation and en

couragemen t in the belief that he is ‘ a fellow-labourerwith the H ighest

,2 fellow-combatant in the great strife ;

contributing his l ittle,which by the aggregation o f many

l ike himself becomes much,towards that progress ive

ascendancy,and ultimately complete triumph o f goo d

over ev il,which history points to

,and which this doctrine

teaches us to regard as planned by the Being to whom weowe all the benevolent contrivance we behold in Nature.Against the moral tendency o f this creed no poss ible o bjection can lie : i t can produce o n whoever can succeed inbelieving it

,n o other than an ennobling effect.’ 1

The essay on Theism bears ev idence,in the imper

fectio n o f its construction and the inferiority o f its style,to its lack o f the author’s final rev ision. T he argumentfo r a First Cause is condemned, o n the ground that thereis a permanent element in nature itself ; ‘

as far asanything can be concluded from human experience,Force has all the attributes o f a th ing eternal and un

created .’ 1 The argumen t from Design is found to be lessunsatisfactory. The principle o f the survival o f the fittes t

,

while no t inconsistent with Creation,

‘ would greatlyattenuate the evidence fo r i t. ’ But ‘ leaving th is remarkable speculation to whatever fate the progress o f discovery

1 E ssay s on Religion , p. 103.

1 I bid. , p. 105.1 [bzd. , p . 1 17.

1 I bid. , p. 147.


conception o f a morally perfect being, and o f his appro

batio n,is an inspiration fo r the mo ral l ife which would be

sorely missed,and Christian i ty has provided us with an

‘ ideal representative and guide o f human i ty’

; no r, even

n ow,would it be easy, even fo r an unbeliever, to find a

better translation o f the rule o f virtue from the abs tractin to the concrete

,than to endeavour so to l ive that C hrist

would approve our life.’ 1 The feeling o f helping God

in the Struggle with ev i l is ‘ excellently fitted to aid and

fortify that real,though purely human religion

,which some

times calls itself the Religion o f Humanity and some timesthat o f Duty

,

’ and which ‘ is destined,with o r witho ut

supernatural sanctions,to be the rel igion o f the Future.

’

Bain ’s two great psychological treatises, The Senses andthe Intellect ( 1855) and The Emotions and the Willform the connecting link between the Assoc iationism o f

the Mills and the scientific and evolutionary philoso phy o fHerbert Spencer. Their importance is fully acknowledgedboth by J. S . Mill and by Spencer. Mill, referring to

a statement by M ‘Cosh that Bain had ‘ elaborated into a

minute system the general statements scattered throughoutMr. Mill’s Logic,

’ says : ‘Mr. Bain did n o t stand in needo f any predecessor except our common precursors, and hastaught much more to me

,on these subj ects

,than there is

any reasonable probability that I can have taught to him .

’ 1

‘ Estimated as a means to higher results,

’ says Spencer,‘Mr. Bain ’s work is o f great value. We repeat,that as a natural h istory o f the mind, we believe itto be the best yet produced. It is a most valuablecollection o f carefully elaborated materials. Perhaps we

cannot better express our sense o f its worth than bysaying that to those who hereafter give to th is brancho f psychology a thoroughly scientific organisation, Mr.

Bain ’s book will be indispensable.’ 11 When we compare

1 E ssay s on Religion ,p. 255.

1 Examination of Hamilton , p. 274, no te.

1 E

;say s , ed. 1863, i. 1 2 1 (quo ted by Ribo t, English Psycholog ,

p. 250

ALEXANDER BAIN 279

these treatises with the earlier works o f the Scottishphilosophers

,and even with that o f James Mill, we cannot

help remarking that they are scientific in a sense in whichthose were not. It is not merely that Bain is the first touse effectively the physiological method

,referring psycho

logical phenomena to their correlates in nerve and brain,

but that he adopts throughout the genetic,if no t the

evolutionary method,tracing the complex to the simple

and the later to the earlier,and thus explaining

,where

his predecessors had been content to do little more thandescribe

,the phenomena o f the mental l ife. When we add

to th is scientific purpose,resolutely held to throughout

the investigation,his remarkable gift o f lucid exposition

and o f apposite and tell ing illustration,we can under

stand the immense influence which Bain exerted as ateacher upon his pupils and as a writer upon his successorsin this field o f sc ientific inquiry . At the same time

,i t i s

to be remarked that it is rather in the Sphere o f scientificpsychology than in that o f speculative philosophy that h isinfluence is to be traced . In ethics, o n the other hand,the importance o f his contribut ion to the Utilitarian theoryis not to be underestimated .

In psychology Bain is a convinced Associationist,and

he applies himself with all the ardour o f the Mills totrace to thei r common source in experience and association all those ideas which others have held to be intuitive

,

and have attributed to some original faculty o f the mind.His statement and illustration o f the laws o f association isnot merely much fuller than those given by his predecesso rs

,and applied to the emotional and volitional as

carefully as to the intellectual l ife i t also shows a clearerapprehension o f the nature o f the process. H is definitedifferentiation o f S imilarity from Contiguity, as an independent and equally importan t principle o f Association,adds materially to the value o f Association as a psychological principle

,while his sense o f the l imitations o f i ts

validity saves him from the errors into which its earlieradvocates had been betrayed . Apart from the doctrine o fAssociation

,his chief contributions to psychology are his


differentiation o f the muscular and organic senses from the

trad it ional five senses o f earlier psychology ; his insistenceupon the Law o fRelativ ity,

’ or the presence o f discrimin ation

,o r the apprehension o f d ifference

,as well as similarity,

and o f retentiveness as the condition o f both, i n the mostrudimentary forms o f knowledge his recognition o f spo ntaneity, or ‘ random movement

,

’ as the basis o f the laterpurposive movements which are the elementary form o f

Will ; his doctrine o f the instinctive origin o f all thehigher forms o f mentali ty and his explanation o f Bel ief

,

not in terms o f Association,but in its relation to action

and emotion .

The account o f Belief is hardly less important from ametaphysical than from a psychological poin t o f v iew .

The crucial point is the bearing o f action upon bel ief.Preparedness to act upon what we affirm is admitted on allhands to be the sole

,the genuine

,the unmistakab le criterion

o f bel ief. ’ 1 We believe in an order o f nature,

’

o ra courseo f things as a series o f means to ends

,which we proceed to

real ise by our choice o f the means. The first germ andperennial substance o f the state,

’ however,is ‘ primitive

credulity,

’ or an innate tendency to believe everythingindiscriminate ly

,which Bain contrasts with that ‘ acquired

scepticism which is the result o f the shock o f contradiction,

the thwarting o f our expectations, by experience o f theactual order o f nature. We start with ‘ an overween ingbelief in the uniform i ty o f nature

,

’ which is graduallychecked and educated by our growing experience . T he

great lesson o f experience is that the warrant o f belief ord isbelief is to be found n o t in the mere frequency o r rarityo f the uniformities

, but in their comparative frequency.’

The function o f experience and repetition is not to originate, but to confirm or correct the original tendency tobelief

,strengthening o r weaken ing it according to the

number and the nature o f the agreements and co n tradictions respectively . We are thus enabled to correct theerror o f the Associationist explanation . When JamesM i ll

1 Emo tion s and Will, 3rd ed., p. 505.


our notion o f externali ty is the feeling o f res istance, themixed state

,produced through reacting upon a sensa tio n

o f touch by a muscular exertion .

’ This feel ing o f tesis

tance,o r expended muscular energy,

’is the o bjective

side o f consc iousness,as sensation wholly pass ive is its

subjective side. ‘ The doctrine o f an external and in dependent world is a generalisation or abstractio n groundedo n our particular experiences

,summing up the past,

and predicting the future . ’ 1 The doctrine o f NaturalRealism is a species o f that metaphysical Realism whichattributes real ity to the abstract universals, rather than to

the concrete particulars o f our experience from whichthey are derived .

While accepting the general standpoint o fUtilitarian ismi n ethics

,Bain works out the theory

,in several po ints,

much more carefully and cons istently than J . S. M i ll.He definitely rej ects the v iew that the only poss i blemotive o f action is desire o f our own pleasure. It seemsto me that we must face the seeming paradox—that thereare

,in the human mind

,motives that pull again st our

happiness. ’ 2 Disinterested and purely altruistic ac t ion ,he holds

,is not merely possible but normal, and virtue

in its h ighest form is always disinterested . He is thusenabled to explain that ‘ conscience ’ which had for Millremained inexplicable. Distinguishing the dutiful o r

obligatory from the virtuous o r Optional, he explains the

former in te rms o f social penalties, the latter in terms o fsocial rewards. The powers that impose the o bligatorysanction are Law and Society, o r the community ac tingthrough the Government by public judicial acts, and

,

apart from the Government,by the unofficial expressions

o f disapprobation and the exclusion from social goodcflices.

’ 3 The result o f this social pressure is no t

merely the enforcement o f the type o f conduct soc iallyapproved

,but the development

,in the mind o f the indi

v idual who is subj ected to it, o f the sense o f duty, orconscience

,which adds its own pressure to that which

1 S enses and I ntellect , p. 382. Emotions and Will, p. 296.3 I bid. , p. 264.

ALEXANDER BAIN 283

comes from without. Conscience is thus ‘ an ideal resemblance o f public authority

,growing up in the indiv idual

mind,and working to the same end,

’ 1 ‘ an imitation within ourselves o f the government without us. ’ 2

The sentiment o f fear is gradually supplemented andsuperseded by ‘ a sentiment o f love or respect towardsthe person o f the superior

,

’ unti l ‘ the young m ind isable to take notice o f the use and meaning o f the prohibitio ns imposed upon it

,and to approve o f the end

intended by them.

’ ‘ All that we understand by theauthority o f conscience

,the sentiment o f obligation

,the

feel ing o f right,the sting o f remorse—can be noth ing else

than so many modes o f expressing the acquired aversionand dread towards certain actions associated in the mindwith the consequences now stated . .The dread o f antic ipated evil Operating to restrain before the fact, and the

pain realiz ed after the act has been performed,are per

fectly intelligible products o f the education o f the mindunder a system o f authority, and o f experience o f thegood and evil consequences o f actions. ’ 3 Out o f the‘ slav ish conscience ’

o f the child is thus developed the‘ citiz en consc ience ’

o f the adult,which has regard to

‘ the in tent and meaning o f the law,and not to the mere

fact o f its being prescribed by some power ’

;4 the

indiv idual conscience becomes independent o f socialrewards and punishments. ‘We may by rewards andpunishments make men perform their social duties ; butsuch performance is by that fact rendered self-regarding.To obtain v irtue in its highest purity

,its noblest hue

,we

have to abstain from the mention o f both punishmentand reward .

’ This is true even o f the theologicalsanctions : ‘ in the thunders o f eternal reward and punishment

,there cannot be heard the still small voice o f a

purely disinterested motive.’ 5

1 Emotion s and Will, p. 264. I bicl. , p. 285. I bici , p. 286.

lord , p. 288.

5 I bid. , p. 297.


2 . Evolutionism Herbert Spencer

It remained fo r a th inker more ambitious thanBain

,and more profoundly impressed with the philo

sophical significance o f the principle o f Evolution,to

develop a philosophy o f evolution,to attempt the co n

struction o f a system o f the sciences,or the complete

unification o f knowledge, by the d iscovery in each o f the

Special sciences o f a single identical phenomenon,that o f

Evolution . This task was attempted by Spencer,whose

philosophy,in Spite o f its agnostic bas is

,is therefore

systematic in a sense in which that o f none o f h is Englishpredecessors

,with the possible exceptio n o f Hobbes

,can

be so described. He alone,

’ says Lewes,

‘o f all Bri tish

thinkers has organised a system o f phi losophy.

’ He

attempts to construct that system o f the sciences wh ichBacon did li ttle more than Sketch as an ideal to be realisedthrough the labours o f his successors . His philosophy issystematic in a sense in which hardly any other ph ilosophycan be so described . As Professor Dewey has said

,

‘Theother systems are such after all more o r less ex post facto.In themselves they have the unity o f the developmen t o f

a single mind,rather than o f a predestined planned

achievement. They are systems somewhat in and throughretrospect. Their completeness owes something to themind o f the onlooker gathering together parts whichhave grown up more or less separately and in responseto felt occasions

,to particular problems. But Spencer’s

system was a system from the very start . It was asystem in conception

,no t merely in issue .’ 1 Spencer

h imself Speaks o f the operation in him o f ‘ the architectonic instinct

,the love o f system-building

,as it would

be called in less complimentary language. During thesethirty years it has been a source o f frequent elation to

see each division,and each part o f a div ision

,working

out into congruity with the rest—to see each com

1 Phil. Ream, xiii. 160 .


further.’ 1 He adds that whenever,in later years, I have

taken up Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason,I have s imilarly

Stopped short after rejecting its primary propos ition .

’

In March,1 860 , Spencer issued his prospectus o f the

Synthetic Philosophy,under the title ‘ A System o f Phi lo

sophy,

’ to consist o f the following parts : ( 1 ) Firs tPrinciples

,contain ing the statement o f the fundamental

principles o f the system,and giving the system itself i n

outline and in all its generality ; (2 ) passing over theapplication o f these First Pr inciples to Inorganic Nature,as being o f less immediate importance and making the

scheme impracticably extensive,the Principles o f Biology ;

(3) the Principles o f Psychology ; (4) the Principles o fSociology ; (5) the Principles o f Morality, the con ten tso f which had been in part anticipated in Social Statics.Ambitious as the programme is

,i t was fully carried out

,

the First Principles appearing in 1 862 , and the last volumeo f the Principles of Sociology in 1 896.

Tracing the genesis o f our ‘ ultimate scientific ideas,

’

Spencer finds the universal form o f thought in Relationit is because to think is to relate

,that we cannot know

Absolute Reali ty . Time and space are derived by abstraction from the two kinds o f relation, sequence and co

existence. The abstract o f all sequences is Time. Theabstract o f all co -existences is Space. Time and Spaceare generated

,as other abstracts are generated from Other

concretes the only difference being, that the organisationo f experiences has

,in these cases

,been going o n through

out the entire evolution o f intelligence. ’ 2 The conceptio n o f Matter has a similarly empirical origin .

‘ Ourconception o f Matter

,reduced to its simplest shape

,is

that o f co -existen t positions that offer resistance as co n

trasted with our conception o f Space,in which the co

existent positions offer no resistance As consistingOf co -existing positions

,Matter is also extended ; but ‘

o f

these two inseparable elements,the resistance is primary

,J

1 Autobiog ” i. 252 .

1 First Principles, p. 164.

HERBERT SPENCER 2 87

and the extension secondary. Occupied extension, orBody

,being distinguished in consciousness from un

occupied extension,o r Space

,by its resistance

,th is attri

bute must clearly have precedence in the genesis o f

the idea.’ 1 The , idea o f Motion is derived from ourearl iest experiences o f force . Out o f th is primitive conceptio n o f Motion

,the adult conception o f i t is developed

simultaneously with the development o f the conceptionsOf Space and Time all three being evolved from the moremultiplied and varied impressions o f muscular tension andObj ective resistance . Motion

,as we know it

,is thus

traceable,in common with the other ultimate scientific

ideas,to experiences o f force. ’ 2

Force is thus seen to be the ultimate o f ultimates . ’

‘ Though Space,Time

,Matter

,and Motion

,are ap

paren tly all necessary data o f intell igence,yet a psycho

logical analysis shows us that these are either builtup o f

,or abstracted from

,experiences o f Force. ’ 3 As

to the relation o f ‘ this undecomposable mode o f co n

sc iousness ’

to‘ the Power manifested to us through

phenomena,

’ Spencer does n o t seem clear . ‘ Force,as

we know it,

’ he says,‘can be regarded only as a certain

conditioned effect o f the Uncondi tioned Cause—as therelative reality indicating to us an Absolute Real i ty bywhich i t is immediately produced .’ The doctrine to

which we are brought is neither realism n o r idealism,

but tran sfigured realism.

’ ‘ Getting rid o f all complications

,and contemplating pure Force

,we are irresistibly

compelled by the relativ ity Of our thought,to vaguely

conceive some unknown force as the correlative o f theknown force . Noumenon and phenomenon are herepresented in their primordial relation as two sides o f thesame change

,o f which we are obl iged to regard the

last as no less real than the first " But at the endo f the chapter on ‘ the persistence o f force ’ he saysThe force o f which we assert persistence is that AbsoluteForce o f which we are indefinitely conscious as the neces

1 First Principles , p. 166 . I bid. , p. 168.

1 I lzid. , p. 169 . 1m , p. 170 .


sary correlate Of the force we know . By the Pers istenceOf Force we really mean the persistence o f some Causewhich transcends our knowledge and conception . Inasserting i t we assert an Uncondit ioned Real ity

,without

beginning o r end . The sole truth wh ich transcendsexperience by underlying it

,is thus the Persistence o f

Force. This being the bas is o f experience, must be thebasis o f any scien tific organisation o f experiences. T o

this an ultimate analysis brings us down ; and on this arational syn thesis must build up. ’ 1

From the persistence Of force follows the persistence o frelations among forces

,o r the uniformity o f law. The

general conclusion that there exist constant connexion samong phenomena

,ordinarily regarded as an inductive

conclusion only,is really a conclusion deducible from the

ultimate datum o f consciousness [the persistence o f force].2A further consequence is the ,

transformation and equivalence o f all forces . This holds

,according to Spencer

,

o f the relation o f physical to mental forces, n o less than inthe case o f merely physical forces. ‘The law o f metamorphosis

,which holds among the physical forces

,holds

equally between them and the mental forces. Thosemodes o f the Unknowable which we call motion

,heat

,

l ight,chemical affinity

,etc .

,are alike transformable into

each other,and into those modes o f the Unknowable

which we distinguish as sensation,emotion

,thought

these, in their turns, being directly o r indirectly te

transformable into the original shapes.’ 3 Finally thedirection Of motion is ‘ that o f the greatest force,

’ or thato f the least resistance and the rhythm o f motion , o r thedoctrine o f the alternate action and reaction o f forces

,

follows from the co -existence everywhere o f antagon isticforces.’

We have n o t yet,however

,reached the synthesis or

complete un ification o f knowledge in which philosophyconsists ; we have no t yet formulated the law o f the

cosmic process as a whole. All these are analytical

1 First Principles , p. 192 .

1 I bid., p. 195.

1 Mid ,p. 2 17.


motion ; during which the matter passes from an indefin ite

,incoherent homogeneity to a definite, coherent

heterogenei ty ; and during which the retained mo tionundergoes a parallel transformation.’ 1

Is i t possible to exhibit the law o f Evolution,thus

inductively established,as a result Of deductive demon

stratio n ; to show that ‘ the red istribution o f matter andmot ion must everywhere take place in those ways

,and

produce those traits,which celestial bodies

,organisms,

societies,alike display ’ 1 Can we deduce the pheno

mena o f evolution from the Persistence o f Force ? In thefirst place

,Spencer replies

,the transition from the homo

gen eo us to the heterogeneous is an Obvious consequenceo f the instability o f the homogeneous.’

S econdly,

‘ act ionand re-action being equal and opposite

,i t follows that in

d ifferentiating the parts o n which it falls in unl ike ways,the incident force must itself be correspondingly differentiated. Instead o f being

,as before

,a uniform force

,

i t must thereafter be a multiform force— a group o f

dissimilar forces. ’ 3 This he calls the law Of ‘ themultiplication o f effects

,

’ or ‘ the production o f manychanges by o ne cause.’ Wh ile these two laws explain thenature o f Evolution as a movement from homogeneity toheterogeneity

,they do n o t explain it as a movement from

the incoherent to the coherent,from the indefinite to the

definite . But in the case o f any aggregate o f unlikeun its, o r groups o f un i ts, these are, by the indiscriminateaction o f any force upon them

,

‘ Separated from eachOther—segregated into minor aggregates

,each consisting

Of units that are severally l ike each other and unlike thoseo f the other minor aggregates." And ‘ Other th ingsbeing equal

,the definiten ess o f the separation is in pro

portion to the definiteness o f the difference between theun its.’ 5The tendency Of Evolution being to equilibrium,

theattainment o f this state constitutes its ‘ impassable l imit.’

‘ The te-distr ibutions o f matter that go on around us1 First Principles , p. 396.

1 I biah, p. 398. 3 I bial , p. 431 .I bid

,p. 46 1 .

5 I hid , p. 463.

HERBERT SPENCER 2 9 1

are ever being'brought to conclusions by the dissipationo f the motions which effect them.

’ 1 The un iversal coexistence Of antagon istic forces results not merely inthe rhythmic decomposition o f every force into divergentforces

,but also in the ‘ ultimate establishment o f a

balance.’ ‘ Every motion being motion under resistanceis continually suffering deductions ; and these unceasingdeductions finally result in the cessation o f the motion .

’ 2

Dissolution is thus the inev itable complement o f Evolutio n .

"When Evolution has run its course— whenthe aggregate has at length parted with its excesso f motion

,and habi tually receives as much from its

env ironment as i t habitually loses—when it has reachedthat equil ibrium in which its changes end ; i t thereafterremains subject to all actions in its env ironment whichmay increase the quantity o f motion it contains, andwhich

,in the lapse o f time

,are sure

,either slowly o r

suddenly,to give its parts such excess o f motion as

will cause disintegration .

’ 3 This rhythmic law holdso f ‘ the entire process o f things

,as displayed in the

aggregate o f the v isible universe,

’as well as o f each

smaller aggregate. ‘And thus there is suggested theconception o f a past during which there have beensuccessive Evolutions analogous to that which is nowgoing on ; and a future during which successive othersuch Evolutions may go o n— ever the same in principlebut never the same in concrete result . ’ ‘1

Spencer’s ultimate interest in the systematic treatmento f all problems from the point o f view o f Evolutionwas

,according to his own account

,practical rather than

1 First Principles , p. 483.

1 I hid ,p. 484.

3 I hid , p. 519 .

I hid. , p . 537. The extreme vagueness and unintelligib ility o f the

ab o ve S tatement o f Spencer’

s views is no t to be set down to the

exigencies o f co ndensatio n ; it is inherent in the ‘ System .

’

The

s erio us student canno t but feel, with Riehl, that S pencer’

s‘ law o f

develo pment is merely a play with analogies , o r at b est a mere

schematic fo rmula, which do es no t come in contact with phenomenato explain them, but only describes a superficial similarity b etweendifferen t kinds o f natural processes (S cience and Metaphy sics , Eng.

trans ,p.


theoretical. ‘The whole system,

’ he says in the Autobiography,1

‘ was at the outse t,and has ever continued

to be a basis for a right rule o f l ife,ind iv idual and

so cial. In the Preface to the Data of Ethics,he

says : ‘ This last part o f the task [the Principles o f

Moral ity] i t is, to which I regard all the precedingparts as subsidiary . Written as far back as 1 842 , myfirst essay

,consisting o f letters on The Proper Sphere of

Government,vaguely indicated what I conceived to be

certain general principles o f right and wrong in poli ticalconduct ; and from that time onwards my ultimatepurpose

,ly ing behind all proximate purposes

,has been

that o f finding fo r the principles o f right and wrongin conduct at large

,a scientific basis.’

H is earliest work,Social Statics

,was devoted to the

fundamental questions o f ethics and politics ; and theonly essential d ifference between i t and the later Principlesof Ethics is that in the former he accepts, in a som ewhatrestricted form

,the doctrine o f a ‘ moral sense

,

’ whichhe definitely repudiates in the latter .2 In the earlierwork he condemns the doctrine o f Expediency on accounto f its empirical and unscientific character. In the laterhe i nsists that empirical util i tarianism is but a tran sit ionalform to be passed through on the way to rationalutil itarian ism that ‘ the util itarian ism which recogn isesonly the principles o f conduct reached by induction isbut preparatory to the utilitarian ism which deduces theseprinciples from the processes o f life as carried on underestablished condition s o f existence . ’ 3 O r

, as he putsit in his letter to Mill, partly republished in the chapterreferred to

,The view fo rwhich I contend is

,that Morality

properly so -called—the sc ience o f right conduct—has fo r its

object to determine how and why certain modes o f conductare detr imental

,and certain other modes beneficial. These

good and bad results cannot be accidental, but mustbe necessary consequences o f the constitution o f things ;and I conceive it to be the business o f Moral Science

1:Autohiog . , 11 . 314.

1 Principles of Ethics, pt. 11. sect. 1 9 1 .

3 Data of Ethics , ch. iv.


is to serve as a standard fo r our guidance in solv ing,as well as we can

,the problems o f real conduct. ’ 1

Such a deductive or rational ethics must be a systemdeveloped from a first principle. This first princ iple is,in both works

,identified with Justice

,i n the sense o f

the equal right o f every individual to act as he likes, so longas he does n o t interfere with the same liberty on the parto f other individuals ; and this principle is regarded, in SocialStatics

,as an intuition o r

‘ instinct o f personal rights.’

Although Spencer endeavours,in the Principles

,to derive

this from ‘ animal justice,

’ i t is in reality,as Professor

Albee points o ut,the antithesis o f the latter

,and is a

deduction from the eighteenth-century indiv idualism inwhich Spencer so devoutly believed rather than fromEvolutionism .

2 As fo rthe other two principles,—Prudence

,

and Beneficen ce,negative and positive, Spencer accepts the

‘ empirical utili tarian account in both works,and in the

Preface, subsequently withdrawn, to the Part o f thePrinciples which treats o f them he confesses that ‘ theDoctrine o f Evolution has not furnished gu idance to theextent I had hoped. Most o f the conclusions, drawnempirically, are such as right feel ings, enlightened bycultivated intelligence

,have already sufficed to establ ish .

’

On the other hand,we find in the Data of Ethics an

interesting attempt to exhibit the biological significanceo f pleasure and the conciliation which the evolution o f

human conduct gradually effects between egoism andaltruism ; to give an evolutionary interpretation o f thesense o f duty as the survival in consciousness o f thevarious pre-moral controls

,political

,religious

,and social,

which gradually gives place to the sense o f the in trinsicauthoritativeness o f the h igher

,or more developed feelings

over the lower,o r simpler and less developed, as guides o f

conduct ; and finally to reconcile intuition ism and em

piricism,in ethics as i n metaphysics

,by the distinction

between the individual and the racial point o f view .

This last position is clearly stated in the following1 Data of Ethics , p. 275.

History of English Utilitan'

anism, pp. 342 , 356.

HERBERT SPENCER 295

passage from Spencer’s letter to Mill . 1 ‘ Correspondingto the fundamen tal propositions o f a developed MoralScience

,there have been

,and still are

,developing in the

race certain fundamental moral intuitions ; andthough these moral intuitions are the results o f ac

cumulated experiences o f U tility, gradually organ isedand inherited

,they have come to be quite independent

o f conscious experience . Just in the same way thatI believe the intuition o f space

,possessed by any liv ing

individual,to have arisen from organised and consol idated

experiences o f all antecedent indiv iduals who bequeathedto him their slowly-developed nervous organisationsj ust as I believe that this intuition

,requiring only to

be made definite and completed by personal experiences,

has practically become a form o f thought,apparently

quite independent o f experience so do I believe that theexperiences o f utility organised and consolidated throughall past generations o f the human race, have been producing corresponding nervous modifications, which, bycontinued transmission and accumulation

,have become in

uS certain faculties o f moral intuition—certain emotionsresponding to right and wrong conduct

,which have no

apparent basis in the indiv idual Cxperiences o f util ity.

’

The individualism which underl ies his account o f

Justice becomes explic it enough when Spencer comes todeal with the problem o f the State . In spite o f his beliefin the solidarity o f the interests o f the indiv idual andthose o f society

,and his pers istent use o f the term social

organism ’ in Social Statics,the antithesis between the

State and the individual is fo r him absolute. H is j ealousyo f State- interference with the l iberty o f the individual isgreater even than Mill’s. The State

,he holds

,is not the

creator o f rights these are natural,

’ and the State’s onlylegitimate function is to protect them . It is i tself anecessary ev i l

,incidental to the transitional stage which

we have now reached on o urway to that complete harmonyo f ind iv idual and social interests which will supersede i t.

1Q uo ted in Data of Ethics , p . 123.


We are ‘ advancing from the o ne extreme, i n which the

State is everything and the indiv idual nothing,to the

other extreme,in which the indiv idual is everything and

the State nothing,

’ 1 from the completely mili tary to

the completely industrial type o f social organ isatio n .

T he State is indispensable ‘ during man ’

s appren ticeship to the social state ’

; and, here as elsewhere, fi tnessfo r one function implies unfitness fo r others. But notonly is the S tate unfit fo r any other function than thato f protection

,i ts attempt to do more is an interference

with nature and an invasion o f the sacred rights o f theindividual . On these grounds Spencer condemn s thePoor-Law and National Education

,as well as all inter

ferences with religion and commerce. That he did n o t

abate the rigour o f these v iews in later life is seen inthe essays republished from the Contemporary Review

under the ti tle The M an versus the State

Sufficient quotations have been given to enable the

reader to judge o f the merits and defects Of Spencer’sstyle. Its o ne merit is i ts clearness and precision to thisall other qualities are deliberately sacrificed . It is hard,technical

,dry

,entirely lacking in d istinction and indi

viduality . When he becomes impassioned,as he no t

seldom does when deal ing with a practical quest ion,he

lapses into mere popular declamation,and the efl

’

ect isdecidedly incongruous . H is own characterisation Of hisstyle is very just . ‘ I have always felt a wish to makeboth the greater arguments, and the smaller argumentscomposing them , finished and symmetrical. In so far as

giving coherence and completeness is concern ed,I have

generally satisfied my ambition ; but I have fallen shorto f i t in respect o f li terary form . The ae sthetic sense hasin this always kept before me an ideal which I couldnever reach. Though my style is lucid, i t has, as

compared with some styles,a monotony that displeases

me. There is a lack o f variety in its verbal forms and

1 S ocial S tatics , p. 435.

CHAPTER II

THE DEVELOPMENT AND CONSEQUENCES OF

THE SCOTTISH PHILOSOPHY OF COMMON

SENSE

1 . NaturalRealism and the Relativity of KnowledgeHamilton andM ansel

IT is difficult fo r us to understand the extraord inaryand

,we cannot but j udge, exaggerated reputation which

Hamilton achieved among his con temporaries and im

mediate successors. That reputation has been finallyd iscredited fo r us by Mill ’s relen tless Examination andHutchison Stirl ing’s still more caustic Analysis Of theHam i lton ian philosophy . But apart from these critic isms

,

the actual con tribution o f Ham ilton to philosophy is soslight that it fails to impress the present-day reader . I tconsists o f two series o f class lectures, hastily preparedduring the first years o f his tenure o f the chair o f logicand metaphysics in the University o f Edinburgh

, and

te-delivered year after year without revision ; o f a fewarticles contributed to .the Rev iews , and o f an editiono f Reid with elaborate notes and excursus. SO far as thesubstance o f his phi losophy can be gathered from thesescattered sources

,all that he really added to the accepted

teaching o f the Scottish school was the doctrin e o f theRelat ivity o f Human Knowledge ; and it is doubtless tohis enunciation o f th is doctrine and the subsequentdevelopment o f i t by other thinkers that Hamilton ’sreputation is chiefly due . But the impression whichhe produced upon his contemporaries must also in no

small measure be attributed to his reputation fo r philo298

SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON 2 99

sophical erudition . With the single exception o f Bacon,no English philosopher before h is time had producedth is impression o f learn ing ; with the single exceptiono f Reid

,none had investigated the questions o f philosophy

in the light o f the history o f their prev ious d iscussion .

M lll indeed finds in ‘ the enormous amount o f t ime andm ental vigour which he expended o n mere philosophicalerudit ion

,leaving

,i t may be said, only the remains o f his

mind fo r the real business o f thinking,’ part o f the ex

planation o f Ham ilton ’s failure to contribute moreeffectively to the solution o f philosophical problems.1 Yeteven his erudition has been to some extent d iscredi ted.Apart from errors in points o f detail

,he often fails entirely

to grasp the system or to appreciate the point o f view o f

the several philosophers to whom he refers he allows himself to quote isolated statements, apart from their contextin the system as a whole . Mill th inks that Hamiltonwas better fitted fo r the task o f the historian o f philosophythan fo r that o f philosophy itself ; but he also points outthat the gift which his actual work in this field displaysis rather that o f the philosophic annalist than that o f thehistorian proper . Still we can understand that Hamilton ’sextensive and m inute acquaintance with the history o f

philosophical opinion was calculated to make a muchgreater impression upon his contemporaries, to whom itwas something new

,than upon those who have been

taught a higher standard o f scholarship in philosophy.

Something is also doubtless to be set down to his abil ityin the presentation o f his v iews

,especially in a polem ical

interest . What strength and nerve in his style,’ remarks

Masson . It is true that his style is much more technicalthan that o f prev ious English philosophers ; but thisvery qual ity may well have helped to impress his contemporaries with the scien tific accuracy o f his methods.Whatever be the explanation

,the fact remains that

Ham ilton gave a new and a strong impulse to the studyo f philosophy in England and it is rather as the originator

1 Examination of Hamilton , p. 637.


o f such an impulse than in v i rtue o f the im portan ce o f

his own contributions to the solution o f its problems thathis significance is to be found.Hamilton ’s quarrel is not merely, l ike Reid

’s,with the

sceptic ism o f Hume and the ‘ ideal ’

o r‘ representative ’

theory o f knowledge,o f which it is the consequence

,

but also with the opposite type o f philosophy, thatabsolute idealism or

‘ omniscience ’ which the Germansuccessors o f Kant have developed out o f the Kantiantranscendentalism. To this he opposes the doctrine o fphenomenalism o r relativ ism which he regards as the

true development o f the ‘ critical ’ philosophy. But heat the same time reasserts Reid’s doctrine o f NaturalRealism or Dualism

,in opposition to what he calls

Cosmothetic Idealism o r Hypothetical Realism . L ikeReid

,he insists upon the distinction between the primary

and the secondary qualities,regarding the former as

objectively real and the latter as subjective modificationsl ike Reid

,he appeals to our ‘ common sense

,

’ or immedi

ate consciousness ’ both o f the ego and o f the non-ego ;l ike Reid

,he signalises the d istinction between sensation

and perception . So far as this side o f his ph ilosophy isconcerned

,we have only to note the greater clearness

w i th which he conceives the relation o f philosophy to

common sen se and his indebtedness, even in this part o fthe argument

,to Kant. ‘ Common Sense,

’ he says,

‘ isl ike Common Law . Each may be laid down as thegeneral rule o f decision ; but in the o ne case it mustbe left to the jurist

,in the other to the ph ilosopher, to

ascertain what are the contents o f the rule ; and thoughin both instances the common man may be c ited as awitness

,fo r the custom or the fact

,in neither can he be

allowed to o fliciate as advocate or as judge .

’ l This isvery different from the appeal

,so frequent in Reid, from

the philosophers to the vulgar. The general position o f

Reid is further greatly modified by the adoption o f theKan tian v iew o f space and time as forms o f perception 2

1 Reid’

s Wo rks , 11. 752 .

1 Hamilton calls them inaccurately fo rms o f thought.’


not so much the l imitation o f our faculties as the natureo f knowledge itself. ‘Were the number o f our facultiescoextensive with the modes o f being—had we fo r eacho f these thousand modes a separate organ competent tomake it known to us—still would our whole knowledgehe

,as it is at present

,only o f the relative . O f existence

absolutely and in itself,we should then be as ignorant

as we are now.

’ 1

Mill and others find in this doctrine o f Agnostic ismthe contradiction o f Hamilton’

s own theory o f NaturalRealism ; but though Hamilton

’s statements can easilybe made to contradict one another

,Masson ’s surmise is

doubtless the true one,namely

,that the theory o f Natural

Realism refers only to phenomenal or cosmological ’ reality,and is not therefore contradicted by the doctrine o f theunknowableness o f ultimate o r ontological real ity. Thereal difficulty in the latter theory lies in the underlyingconception o f ultimate real ity as the unconditioned, orunrelated

,a conception which Ham i lton develops with

great explici tness in the article o n The Philosophy o f theUnconditioned .

’ S ince to think is to condi tion, we cannot,he argues

,know the Unconditioned . Whenever we make

the attempt,we find that we have to choose between two

contradictory propositions,both inconceivable

,o f which

,

according to the principle o f excluded middle,one must be

true. T he unconditioned is ei ther the Absolute or theInfinite

,the uncondi tionally lim i ted or the unconditionally

unl imi ted . Which o f these contradictories is true, weare in certain cases able

,in other cases unable

,to deter

m ine. In any case, fo r Ham i lton as fo r Kant, the groundo f decision between the contradictory alternatives is amoral o ne . Fo r example, the fact o f moral responsib ili tycompels us to decide in favour o f a first cause or absolutebeginning o f ourown actio n s

,andagainst an infin ite series o f

causes. The absence o f such grounds o f decision betweenthe rival interpretations o f God

, as the Unconditioned,

condemns us to complete ignorance o f the divine nature.

1 Lectures on Metaphy sics , i. 153.

HENRY MANSEL 39 3

Hamilton concludes,with Kant

,that where knowledge is

unattainable,belief is both possible and necessary but

instead o f constructing, l ike Kant, a moral theology or am etaphysic o f ethics, he trusts to Common Sense andIntuition

,aided by supernatural Revelation

,to assure us o f

those truths which l ie beyond the sphere o f knowledge.

The title o fMan sel’

s famous Bampton LecturesThe Lim its o f Rel igious Thought

,

’ indicates the leadinginterest o f the author in the Hamiltonian ‘

philosophyo f the conditioned

,

’ namely,its theological impl ications.

He sets himself to underm ine the rational istic critic ismo f revealed theology by showing that the philosophyo f the Infin ite

,o n which it rests

,is unattainable by

man, whose knowledge is, by i ts very nature, l imited

to the finite . The true theology,he argues

,is merely

regulative and practical,

no t Speculative or scientific .Religious intuit ion o r instinct

,bel ief as distinguished

from knowledge,is the organ by which we apprehend

God and our relation to Him . Our feeling o f dependencesuggests to us the power

,our conv iction o f moral obliga

tion the goodness,o f God . Thus we form ‘ regulative

ideas o f the Deity,which are sufficient to guide our

practice, but not to satisfy our intellect ; which tell us,not what God is in Himself

,but how He wills that

we should think o f Him .

’ 1 Mansel follows Butler inhis contention that the divine government o f the world isa scheme imperfectly comprehended

,

’ and argues that wemust be content with the apprehension o f the analogyo f the divine nature to our own , where knowledge inthe strict sense is beyond our reach . We must restsatisfied with ‘ the convictions forced upon us by our

religious and moral instincts. ’ 2 These convictions areat once incapable o f rational justification and superiorto It.Mansel

’

s argument fo r the lim i tation o f human knowledge to the finite is essentially the same as that o f Hamil

l Limits of Religious Thought, p. 84. Metaphy sics , p. 375.


ton,but it is more clearly stated and somewhat expanded.

He abandons Hamilton ’s v iew o f the opposition o f the

absolute and the infinite, and finds the idea o f the absoluteto be no t only inconceivable but self-contradictory.

‘ In

my language absolute is not opposed to incomplete,but

to relative, and means knowledge o f an object as itis in itself

,apart from its relation to human faculties. ’ 1

Hence ‘ a conception o f the Deity,in H is absolute

existence,appears to involve a self-con tradiction ; fo r

conception i tself is a l im i tation,and a conception o f the

absolute Deity is a l im itation o f the i ll imitable . ’ 2 Conceptio n or consciousness implies no t merely, as Hamiltonhad argued

,the relation o f subj ect and obj ect

,but the

d istinction o f one obj ect from another,the succession

and duration o f these obj ects in time,and the attribution

o f Spiritual qualities to a common subject o r person .

In all these respects a conception o f the infini te is acontradiction in terms. Even the moral consc iousnessis l imited to the relative, and acquaints us only withappearance

,no t with real ity.

‘ I f the standard o f perfectand immutable moral i ty is to be found on ly in the eternalnature o f God

, i t fo llows that those conditions whichprevent man from attaining to a knowledge o f the infin i te

,

as such, must also prevent him from attain ing to morethan a relative and phenomenal conception o f morality.

”1

What that Absolute Morali ty is,we are as unable

to fix in any human concept ion, as we are to definethe other attributes o f the same Divine Nature " Itfollows that such a criticism o f Revelation from the

ethical point o f view as we find in Kant,implying as

i t does the Kantian view o f the absolute sign ificanceo f our human morali ty

,is entirely without warran t

,

and that we must accept without question the ‘ moralmiracles ’

o f Revelation . Elsewhere, however, Manselseems to substitute fo r th is strictly relativistic v iew o f

human morality an interpretation o f ethical knowledge

1 Limits of Religious Knowledge (Pref. to 4th p. xxx,no te.

2 Metaphy sics , p. 298.3 16132 , p 386.

4 Limits of Religious Thought, p. 135.


o f reconcil iation which he is seeking. ‘ If Religio n and

Science are to be reco nciled,the bas is o f reco nciliation

must be this deepest,widest

,and most certain o f all

facts—that the Power which the Universe man ifests to

us is utterly inscrutable. ’ 1 The ultimate consequenceo f our sc ientific

,no less than o f our rel igious thought,

is se lf-contradiction and the sense o f utter mystery.Suppo se the work o f science completed

,suppose the

appearances,properties, and movements o f things to have

been resolved into ‘ manifestations o f Force in Space andTime

,

’ i t would still remain that ‘ Force,Space

,and

Time pass all understanding.

’ Thus the scientific thinker‘ learns at once the greatness and the littleness o f the

human in tellect—its power in deal ing with all thatcomes within the range o f experience ; i ts impotence indealing with all that tran scends experience

,He real ises

with a special viv idness the utter incomprehensiblenesso f the simplest fact

,considered in i tse lf. He, more

than any other,truly knows that in i ts ultimate essence

nothing can be known .

’ 2 The inevitable inferencefrom this un iversal failure to th ink out our conceptions,whether religious or sc ient ific

,is the merely symbolic

value o f our so -called ‘ knowledge .’ Ultimate religiousideas and ultimate scientific ideas

,al ike turn out to be

m erely symbols o f the actual,no t cognitions Of it .’ 3

But while the only defensible philosophy is that whichconfines itself to the investigation o f the laws or unifo rmities which characterise the phenomena to whicho ur knowledge is l imited

,while philosophy difl

'

ers

from scien ce merely as completely un ified from partiallyunified knowledge o f phenomena

,and transcendental

notions have no role to play in philosophic thought, thereremains

,as the basis o f religious emotion

,the indefin ite

consciousness,rather than the thought or idea

,o f the

unknowable Reality which lies beh ind the phenomenao f our experience

,

‘ an indefinite consciousness o f the

unformed and unlim ited," a compelling sense o f the

1 First Principles , p. 46. I bid. , pp. 66, 67.

3lbid., p . 68.

‘1 16id. , p. 94.

AGNOSTICISM 307

ultimate mysteriousness o f the un iverse in which we find

ourselves .

Huxley,to whom we owe the invention o f the nam e

‘ agnosticism ’

as the antithesis o f ‘ gnostic ism,

’ finds thedoctrine itself alike in Hume and Kant

,though he learned

it first from Hamilton .

1 ‘The aim o f the Kritik der

reinen Vernunft is essentially the same as that o f theTreatise of Human Nature

,by which indeed Kant was

led to develop that “ cri tical philosophy with which hisnam e and fame are indisputably bound up : and, if thedetails o f Kant’s criticism differ from those o f Hume, theycoincide with them in their main result

,which is the

lim i tation o f all knowledge o f reali ty to the world o f

phenomena revealed to us by experience." But it is inthe ‘ m it igated scepticism ’

o r‘ academ ical philosophy ’

o f

that prince o f agnostics,David Hume

,

’ rather even thanin the Critical Philosophy o f Kant

,that he finds the

C lassical statement o f agnosticism ; and this interpretationdeterm ines the entire presentation o f Hume ’s philosophyin the notable volume which he contributed to theEnglish Men o f Letters series.While the name ‘

agnosticism ’

is a novelty o f then ineteenth century

,and the doctrine o f nescience which

it signifies is based by its advocates upon the results o f

Hum ian and Kantian speculation,as interpreted by

Ham i lton and Mansel,the doctrine itself i s no novelty

o f the century . It is that doctrine o f inverted empi r icismwith which we have already becom e familiar in the pageso f Locke ’s Essay and with which Huxley explicitly co nn ects his own teaching. S ince experience is the onlysource from which the data o f knowledge can be derived, it seems to Locke, as to Kant

,to follow that we

cannot know that which transcends experience,and there

fore that we cannot know ultimate real ity. Locke’sunknown and unknowable ‘ substance ’ corresponds to

1 S ee Essay o n Agno sticism’in Essay s on S ome Controverted

Question s , p. 352.

1 Hume , in English Men o f Letters ,’ p. 60 .


Kant’s unknown and unknowable ‘ thing-in- itself.’ AsKant says that we know only phenomena or appearances

,

Locke says that we know only qualities’ essential and

substantial being we cannot know. Fo r us reali ty,whether in Nature or in ourselves

,must remain a mere

‘ something, we know not what .’ All that was left for

the agnostics o f the nineteenth century to do was toextend this v iew o f the inscrutableness o f real ity to ourknowledge o f God

,that is

,to deduce the theological

consequences which Locke had failed to draw fromthe general view o f human knowledge which he had so

emphatically stated .

3. Return to the Characteristic Point of View of ScottishPhilosophy Calderwooa

'

,M artineau

,Fraser

It was doubtless the development o f Hamilton’s doctrineo f Relativ ity by Mansel and Spencer that revealed to h isablest pupils the perilous inadequacies o f the Philosophyo f the Conditioned, and stimulated them to attempt therevision and correction o f their master’s theory o f knowledge. The first Sign o f revolt was the publication o f

The Philosophy of the Infinite,by Henry Calderwood

,

afterwards p rofessor o f moral philosophy at Edinburghand a strenuous defender o f intuitional ethics . In th iswork he contended that a ‘ negative notion ’

was ‘n o

notion at all,

’ but a ‘ mental impossibi lity,

’ and that theremoval o f l imitations does no t annihilate the object o fknowledge, though it may make it indefin ite. Hamilton

’s‘ Infinite ’ is ‘ a mere abstraction fo rwhich no o ne pleadsei ther in existence o r in thought. ’ We may have a fin iteo r incomplete, yet real, knowledge o f an infinite Object.No r is it possible to believe in that which we cannotconceive

,that is

,in some measure know . As to Hamilton’s

charge o f imbecil ity against our faculties o f knowledge,

Calderwood asks,in the Spirit o f Ferriet

,

‘ Does i t proveweakness o f mind that we cannot think nothing What apower o f mind it would be to be able to thinh nothing

—to

think and yet not to think I

31 o ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS

than Fraser the traditional l ines o f the Scottish School ;he is d istinctly the less original and speculative thinker .This is true both o f his metaphysical and o f his ethicaltheory. In the former he reproduces the NaturalRealism o rNaturalDualism o fReid and Hamilton in thelatter he restates the Intuition ism o f the schoo l, with aninte resting modification . Fraser, on the other hand, hasbeen to o profoundly influenced by that ‘ ideal theory ’

which was the bite noire o f Reid, to attach much impo rtance to the question o f the independent real ity o f the

material world ; his interest is in ‘ spi ri tual real ism ’

rather than in ‘ natural realism.

’ The con sequence isthat

,whi le Martineau finds speculative satisfaction in a

theory which shares the defects o f the o ld mechan icaland deistic theology o f the eighteenth century, Fraser,under the combined influences o f Coleridge and Berkeley,finds himself compelled to recognise the element o f

truth in the pantheistic theory,and to admit the im

manence o f God in the un iverse,in nature as well as in

man . While both alike find pantheism finally unsatis

factory,and on the same ethical grounds, Martineau

’

s

ph ilosophy is simply a revised version o f the NaturalRealism and the Natural Theology o f the earlier Scottishphilosophers

,Fraser’s is a moral ideal ism,

a new philoSophy o f theism which has shaped fo r i tself a via media

between the deism o f the eighteenth century and the

pantheism o f the nineteenth .

In two early essays,o n

‘ S i r W. Hamilton’s Philosophy ’ and on ‘ Mansel

’

s L imits o f ReligiousThought ( I 8 Martineau clearly expressed his d issentfrom the doctrine o f Nescience as held by both Hamiltonand Mansel . O f Hamilton ’s ‘ law o f the cond itioned,

’

he says : ‘What is this but the morbid lament o f scepti

cism ? Fai th in the veracity o f our faculties,if i t means

anything,requires us to believe that things are as they

appear— that is,appear to the mind in the last and h ighest

resort ; and to deal with the fact that they only appear as

if it constituted an eternal exile from their reality is to

JAMES MARTINEAU 3I I

attr i bute lunacy to universal reason .

" To Mansel’

s

view,again

,he pertinently objects, If intelligence consists

in distinguishing,how can distinguishing be an in compe

teney to understand ? " Man sel’

s theory o f knowledgecuts away the only supports o n which religious thought

can rest or move ; and noth ing short o f an unqualifiedontological scepticism is in agreement with his prem isses. ’ 8

Martineau reached his own po sition in philosophy byway o f reaction from the sensationalism and association ismin which

,in its extrem e Priestleyan form

,he had been

educated . Though he at first accepted this v iew withoutquestion , and even taught it fo r some years, further t eflectio n convinced him that it was invalidated by the factso f o ur moral experience and by the principle o f causal ity,truly understood . Moral responsibility implies freedom

,

as opposed to the necessity o f Priestley ; conscience implies the obligatoriness o f right conduct and

,therefore

,

the existence o f a righteous Will to impose this obligationupon us. Further

,causation is n o t synonymous with

necessary succession ; the only cause we know is will,

or moral agency . It follows that God, as the ultimateor first Cause

,is Will . This conception o f God as

supreme Will,at once the Creator o f the world and

the sovere ign Law-giver,was more Sharply accentuated

by Martin eau’

s later opposition to absolute idealism,which

he identifi ed with pantheism and in which he saw amenace to the ethical life n o less serious than the sensatio nalism and determinism which in his youth had

chiefly threatened its interests. The citadel o f moralityhe finds in the freedom o f the human w ill ; and this seem sto him to imply the falsi ty not only o f the identificationo f the self with the character

,but also o f a doctrine o f

the immanence o f God in man and in nature which excludes His transcendence . In the ethical field itself thedoctrine o f Utilitarianism seems to him to explain away,rather than to explain

,the central fact o f moral obl igation

1 E ssay s , iii. 481 .2 ] bid. , iii. 135.

3 iii. 133.


and his own ethical theory difl'

ers from the OldIntui tion ismsimply in the stress which it lays upon the motive o r

‘ Spring,

’ as distinguished from the action, and upo n the

preferab i l ity o f a higher to a lower spring, as d istinguished from the tightness o r wrongness o f any singleaction or motive, in i tself, and as such.We may well doubt

,with R. H . Hutton

,his pupi l and

friend,

‘ whether the h istorian o f the English thought o four time will credit Martineau with any distinct modification o f the theological o r philosophical opin ions o f th isage. ’ His teaching

,Hutton adds

,was ‘

something thatwent below opinion ; i t was a revelation o f spiri tualcharacter and power. That was the impress ive thing inJames Martineau .

’ 1 It is this that impresses his readers, asit impressed his pupils— the perso nalit o f the wri ter ratherthan the substance o f his thought. t is in his rel igiousrather than in his philosophical writings, we must aga inagree with Hutton

,that the real Mart ineau, the Spiri tual

teacher who will endure,has accomplished his greatest

and finest work.

’ H is influence and popularity must beattri buted

,in no small measure

,to his gift o f style .

Hutton calls it ‘ a singularly noble and remarkable pro sestyle. ’ But it is more appropriate to the sermon thanto the philosophical treatise ; it is much too ornate

,

figurative,and rhetorical fo r the latter . Its wealth o f

imagery,i ts very brilliance

,are apt to pall ; even its

dignity is sometimes Oppressive ; and it is fatally diffuse.Yet it is characteristic

,and a revelation o f a nature

touched to fine issues,o f an eloquent preacher rather than

an original thinker.

The influences which have chiefly determined the

philosophy o f Fraser are the v iews o f Locke and Berkeleyrather than those o f the Scottish School . H is sympathiesare with the Baconian and Lockian Spirit o f faithfulness, atall costs

,to the concrete facts o f human experience rather

than with the Continental ambition to construct a com

1 Spectator, Jan . 27, 1 900 .


orderly antecedence and consequence gradually gave r iseto a mood o f universal uncertainty . The very tie whichmakes the universe a un iverse seemed to be loosed.

Through Brown ’s d issolv ing v iew o f causation, I seemedbound to surrender to the total doubt o f Hume

,and the

last chapter o f Hume’s Treatise described the situation .

"

It was in Berkeley’s conception o f causation o r power as,in the strict sense

,Spiritual o r the expression o f will, that

Fraser found deliverance from the scepticism which hadresulted from an exclusive cons ideration o f i ts physical andscientific aspects . Berkeley taught him that physical causeswere really but signs

,and that real causes or powers w ere

Spi ritual,the expression o f Spiritual purpose . The further

problem raised by the necessity o f presupposing un iformityin the world o f natural events remained for later so lutionin connexion with the question raised fo r him by Hamilton,that o f the nature and limits o f human knowledge. Butthe substitution o f the Berkeleyan fo r the Humian con

ceptio n o f causation rendered conceivable the div ine imman ence in the world o f natural phenomena, or the‘ supernatural ’ character o f ‘ nature ’

; and the mere Immaterial ism which was all that hadhitherto been discoveredin Berkeley became clearly subordinate in importance tothe spiritual realism which his account o f causation wasseen to imply.

Fraser’s central and ever-recurring question , discussedtentatively in the Introductions and Notes to Berkeley andLocke, as well as in the volumes devoted to the l ife andthought o f these phi losophers

,and finally in the Gifl

'

o rd

lectures o n ‘ The Philosophy o f Thesim,

’ is the Ham i lto nian question o f the nature and limi ts o f knowledge,deepened and widened as seen in the light o f the scepticismo fHume . In an essay o n The Insoluble Problem,

’ in theNorth British Review he pondered over thissupreme part o f Ham ilton ’s philosophy.

’ The art icle expressed a somewhat critical attitude towards the Phi loso phyo f the Conditioned . ‘ An exhaustive explanation o f the

1 Biographia Philosophica, p. 51 .

CAMPBELL FRASER 325

myste ries in the Divine Real i ty seemed possible only inOmniscience ; but man is not and cannot become om

n iscien t . Yet this intellectual helplessness was no t inco n

Sistent with a pro gressive human knowledge o f the ActiveReason that is (so far) revealed in all the facts and laws o fthe physical and Spiritual un iverse .

" ‘ So -called humanknowledge

,be ing at last necessarily incomplete and in

completable,may be called knowledge o r ignorance,

according to the way in which it is looked at,and the

m ean ing associated with these two terms .’ 2 In anotherearly essay, o n

‘ Scottish Me taphysics,

’ we find Frasersuggesting the value o f some more precise and availablecanon o f concil iatory cri ticism

,than the mere proclamation

o fhuman ignorance concern ing all which transcends contempo raneous and successive nature . How can faith be maintained amid an absolute negation o f knowledge

,which

im plies a total suspense o f judgment 3

We must,then

,assume the valid ity o f o ur knowledge

as far as i t goes,incomplete as it is andmust ever remain

but its valid ity is an assumption o r postulate which wecan never prove . It is a postulate to be found at theheart o f all knowledge

,scientific as well as moral and

religious ; and Fraser’s challenge to the sc ientific Agnosticis to abandon this postulate without at the same timerendering his own scientific procedure unreasonable andcontradictory. A truly co nsistent agnosticism ,

he argues,

is synonymous with universal nescience o r absolute scepticism .

‘ Hume sees that this agnosticism,when fully

thought out, involves total nescience, n o t merely theological ignorance . In truth the negative revolution whichwas proposed by Hume

,in his juven i le “ Treatise o f

Human Nature,is more bold and thorough than the

scientific agnosticism o f Huxley,which C laims him as ist

parent : it involves the complete dissolution o f commonknowledge and science

,not o f theology alone . All

assertion about what is outside present feeling must beun proved assertion . Intellect can at the most only have

1 Biographia Philosophica ,p. 148.

1 I bid., p. 1 56.

1 E ssay s in Philosophy ,pp. 1 94, 19 5.


strength enough to extingu ish itself." The sc ien tificinterpretability o f nature is the presuppo s i tio n o f its scien

tific interpretation ; sc ience, as well as action, assumesthe orderliness o r uniformity o f nature. But is n o t this

interpretability o f nature another name fo r its innate

div in ity— its final supernaturalness ’ 1 ‘ Faith in the

laws o f nature is unconscious faith in God omnipresent in nature. It is in this moral reliance o n the

surroundings amidst which we live and move and have

o ur be ing that men are able to transcen d their momentary perceptions

,and to bring into a large o r sc ien tific

experience what is no t actually present to their sen ses.”Thus the incoherent agnosticism that retains phys icalscience is no t really a protest against faith ; it is on lyan arrest o f faith at the po int at which faith advancesfrom a narrower to a larger interpretation Of l ife and theuniverse."But it is no t only in its beginnings

,but also in its

ultimate issues,that our knowledge necessitates faith in

that which transcends knowledge. If he does no t, likeHam i lton

,insist upon the ultimate self-contradictoriness o f

human knowledge,Fraser does insist, with no less em

phasis,upon its ultimate mysteriousness . Whenever we

attempt to complete it,i t loses itself in mystery. This

is especially true o f space,time and causality, the three

categories o f physical science. ‘The understanding,measuring by sense and imagination, tries to transcenditself

,and in doing so is always lost at las t in the Infinite

Reality. How to reconcile finite places with the Immensityin which place seems lost

,o r fin ite times with the Etern ity

in which duration seems to disappear,—the placed with

the placeless,the timed o r dated with the timeless,—is the

mystery o f an experience which,like ours

,is condi tioned

by place andtime,in a way that must always leave thought

at the last under a sense o f intellectual incomple tenessand dissatisfaction .

’ 5 The lesson o f this final incompleteness o f human knowledge is the necessity o f faith

1 Philosophy of Theism , z ud ed. , pp. 1 12 , 1 13.

9 I bid. , p. 1 16.

1 p . 1 1 5. ] bid., p. 1 20.

5 I bid. , pp. 96 , 97.


the be lief in the perfect goodness o f the ultimate Power.‘ T he great enigma o f theistic faith ’ is the fact o f moralev il. The alternative which it compels us to face is‘ a universe

,o f n o n-moral things

,

’ in which ev i l cannotexist because good is equally imposs ible— a no n -moraluniverse o n the o ne hand

,or a universe which includes

‘ persons, who , as persons, must have an abso lute powerto make themselves bad —a moral universe which

,as

moral,implies the possibility o f immoral actions, o n the

other a universe o f things o r a universe in which thingsserve the purposes and are the instruments o f the moraleducation o f persons ; a universe which is neither goodnor ev il

,or a universe which

,because i t is not wholly

good,but contains within it the possibil ity o f both good

and evil,may progressively become better. ‘ Is n o t a

world that includes persons better than a wholly n o n

moral world,from which persons are excluded—say on

account o f the risk o f the entrance into existence o f whatought no t to exist

,through the personal power to act ill

implied in morally responsible indiv idual agency 1 ’ Aperson who is no t free to do what he ought no t to dois no t a person

,and God cannot make actual what in

volves express contradiction—namely,the existence o f a

person who is n o t a person ; fo r indiv idual personalityinvolves responsible freedom to act ill . If this seems tolim it omnipotence

,or make God finite

,the alternative

supposit ion— that the existence o f beings who are morallyresponsible fo r their acts is impossible fo r God in aperfectly constituted universe

,is surely n o t less a l imita

tion o f omnipotence . It is a limitation,to o

,that is im

posed only o n the ground o f a residuum o f incomplete o rmysterious conception implied in the idea o f indiv idual orfinite personality whilst the obstacle to a being existing

,

who is at once a respons ible person,and yet unable to act

freely,lies not in its mysteriousness

,but in its ev ident

absurdity .

’ 1,

1 Philo sophy of Theism, p. 268.

CHAPTER III

THE IDEALISTIC ANSWER TO HUME

SPIRITUAL PH ILOSOPHY AND ABSO

LUTE IDEALISM

1 . Spiritual Philosophy—Coleridge andNewman

THE earliest,and in some ways the most influential

,re

presentative o f German Transcendental Phi losophy inEngland is the poet-philosopher, Coleridge. As we haveseen

,Mill regarded him as divid ing with Bentham the

allegiance o f the thoughtful youth o f the time,and Leslie

S tephen agrees that he was undoubtedly the most co nspicuous representative o f the tendencies opposed to utilitarianism .

’ ‘The most remarkable thing,

’ says the latterw riter

,is the apparent d isproportion between Coleridge’s

definite serv ices to philosophy and the effect which hecertainly produced upon some o f his ablest contemporaries.’

His writings are a heap o f fragments,

’ they consist o f‘ random and discursive hints.’ ‘ H is most coherent expos ition [in the Biographia Literaria] is simply appropriatedfrom Schell ing

,though he ascribes the identity to a gen ial

coincidence o f It is a striking testimony toColeridge’s real speculative power that

,in spite Of these

obv ious shortcom ings in the form o f its presentation,his

philosophical teaching Should have made such a deep impression upon the readers o f his books

,as well as upon

those who came under the spell o f his conversationalpowers . The unfortunate and ominous literary plagiarismto which Leslie Stephen gives such prom inence by no

means cancels the fact o f Coleridge’s originality as a

1 English Utilitarians 11. 373—4, 380 .

31 9


that he began to reconstruct a philosophy o f his own o n

more posi tive and conservative l ines. Mr. Shawcro ss, inhis invaluable introduction to the Oxford ed ition o f the

Biographia Literaria, mak es it clear that he had reached hischaracteristic po sitions before he made the acquain tan ceo f Kant, and later o f Schelling, that in the main he usedwhat knowledge he acquired o f these philo sophers i n theinterests o f the v iews which he had thus independentlyreached

,and that he never attempted the accurate o r

complete reproduction o f philosophical systems with whichhe only partially sympathised .

Coleridge’s two leading doctrines,which he never

developed into a philosophical system,though he often

promised to do so , were the distinct ion between maginatio nand Fancy

,and that between Reason and Understanding.

T he former, which was partly worked out in conversations with Wordsworth and in reference to that poet

’

s

views as formulated in his well-known Preface to thePoems

,is found in the Biographia Literaria the

latter in the Aids to Reflection

The question o f the nature o f Imagination,and how it

differs from Fancy,arose primarily

,fo r Coleridge as fo r

Wordsworth,with reference to the nature o f poetry

,and

in the interests o f a sound poetical criticism ; but fo rColeridge it ultimately expanded into the larger ques tiono f the function and validity o f the Imagination i n the

search fo r truth . It was in listening to a po em o fWordsworth’s that the question first arose in his mind.

‘ Inpoems, equally as in philosophic disquisitions, gen ius produces the strongest impressions o f novelty

,while i t rescues

the most admitted truths from the impotence caused bythe very circumstance o f their universal admission .This excellence

,which in all Mr. Wordsworth’

s writingsis more o r less predominant

,and which constitutes the

Character o f his mind, I no sooner felt, than I sought tounderstand. Repeated meditations ledme first to suspect(and a more intimate analysis o f the human faculties, theirappropriate marks

,functions

,and effects

,maturedmy con

jecture into full conviction) , that fancy and imagination


that he began to reconst ruct a philo so phy o f his own onmore positive and conservative l ines. Mr. Shawcro ss, inhis invaluable introduction to the Oxford edition o f the

Biographia Literaria, makes it clear that he had reached hisCharac teristic po s itions before he made the acquaintan ceo f Kant

,and later o f Schelling, that in the main he used

what knowledge he acquired o f these philoso phers in theinterests o f the v iews which he had thus independen tlyreached

,and that he never attempted the accurate or

complete reproduction o f philosophical systems with whichhe only partially sympathised .Coleridge’s two leading doctrines

,which he never

developed into a philosophical system,though he often

promised to do so,were the distinction between maginatio n

and Fancy,and that between Reason and Understand ing.

T he former, which was partly worked out in conversat ions with Wordsworth and in reference to that poet

’

s

v iews as formulated in his well-known Preface to thePoems

,is found in the Biographia Literaria the

latter in the Aids to Reflection

The question o f the nature o f Imagination,and how it

differs from Fancy,arose primarily

,fo r Coleridge as fo r

Wordsworth,with reference to the nature o f poetry

,and

in the interests o f a sound poetical critic ism ; but fo rColeridge it ultimately expanded into the larger questiono f the function and validity o f the Imagination in the

search fo r truth. It was in listening to a poem o fWo rdsworth’s that the question first arose in his mind. ‘ Inpoems

,equally as in philosophic disquisitions

,gen ius pro

duces the strongest impressions o f novelty,while it rescues

the most admitted truths from the impotence caused bythe very circumstance o f their universal admission .This excellence

,which in all Mr. Wordsworth’s writings

is more o r less predominant,and which constitutes the

character o f his mind,I no sooner felt

,than I sought to

understand. Repeated meditations led me first to suspect(and a more intimate analysis o f the human faculties, theirappropriate marks

,functions

,and effects

,maturedmy co n

jecture into full conviction) , that fancy and imagination

COLERIDGE 323

were two dist inct and widely difl'

ei'en t faculties, instead o fbeing, according to the general belief

,either two names

with o ne meaning,o r

,at furthest

,the lower and higher

degree o f one and the sam e power." T he essentiald ifference is that while Fancy is determined by mereaccidental and subj ective association o f ideas, Imaginationworks under the dom in ion o f obj ective law and the trutho f things ; while the former is merely reproductive, thelatter is truly creative. Imagination is the ‘ shaping andmodifying power

,

’ Fancy the aggregative and associativepower." Coleridge therefore calls the former the ‘ esemplastic power

,

’

and distinguishes two forms o r degrees o fit , the primary and the secondary. By the primary imagination he seems to mean the power by which the mind o fman weaves the web o f its experience out o f the datao f sensation by the secondary

,that higher degree o f the

same power,by which the poet and the philosopher seiz e

the essential mean ing o f this common experience . It isthis Shaping sp irit o f Imagination that is the real sourceo f the beauty o f Nature .

0 Lady we receive but what we give,And in our life alo ne do th Nature live

Ours is herwedding-

garmen t, o urs her shro ud

The distinction between Imagination and Fancy,to

which so much importance is attached in the BiographiaLiteraria

,gives place, in the Aids to Reflection

,to the

d istinction between Reason and Understanding. Thisdist inction

,in the form in which i t is stated

,is borrowed

from Kant,with whose philosophy Coleridge made

acquaintance in 1 80 1 .

‘ To Kant,

’ says Mr. Shawcross,

his obligations (as he was never tired o f asserting) werefar greater than to any other o f Kant’s countrymen : tohim alone could he be said to assume in any degree theattitude o f pupil to master. Yet even to Kant his debtseems on the whole to have been more formal thanmaterial— to have resided rather in the sc ientific state

1 Biog. Phil. 1 60 .1 I bid., i. 193.


ment o f convictions previously attained than in the

acquisition o f new truths. In nothing does th isappear more clearly than in the distinction o f Reason andUnderstanding. This distinction

,as elaborated by Kant

,

must have been hailed by Coleridge with especial joy ;fo r i t gave a rational basis to a presentiment o f muchearlier date ." He accepts Leighton’s definition o f the

Understanding as ‘ the faculty judging according tosense. ’ ‘ Hence we add the epithet human

,without

tautology : and speak o f the human understanding,in

disjunction from that o f beings higher or lower than man .

But there is,in this sense

,no human reason .

’ His own

definition o f Understand ing is The faculty by which we

reflect and generalise .’ It follows that Understanding inits highest form o f experience remains commensurate withthe experimental notices o f the senses from which it isgeneralised . Reason

,o n the other hand, either prede

termines experience,or avails i tself Of a past experience

to supersede its necessity in all future time ; and affi rmstruths which no sense could perceive, nor experimentverify

,n o r experience confirm . Yea, this is the test and

character o f a truth so affirmed, that in its own properform it is inconceivable. For to conceive is a function o f theUnderstanding

,which can be exercised only on subj ects

subordinate thereto . And yet to the forms o f the Understanding all truth must be reduced, that is to be fixed as

an object o f reflection and to be rendered expressible.

"

The appropriate sphere o f the Understanding is thenatural

,not the Spiritual world . It is limited to the

objects o f sense and o f possible experience . ‘Whereverthe forms o f reasoning appropriate only to the natural

world are applied to spiritual reali ties,i t may be truly

said,that the more strictly logical the reason ing is in all

its parts, the more irrational is it as a whole.’ 3

Though Coleridge does no t distinguish clearly be

tween the speculat ive and the practical reason,it is

the latter rather than the former that he regards as1 Biog . Phil , Introd., p . xli. 2 Aids to Reflection , underAph. vin.

3 I bid. , Introd. to Aph. x .


is the term in which we comprehend all things thatare representable in the forms o f time and Space, andsubj ected to the relations o f cause and effect : and the

cause o f the existence o f which, therefore, is to be soughtfo r perpetually in something antecedent. It fol lows

,

therefore,that whatever originates its own acts

,o r in any

sense contains in itself the cause o f its own state, must bespiritual

,and consequently supernatural : yet no t o n that

account necessari ly miraculous. And such must theresponsible WILL in us be

,if i t be at all."

The distinction between Reason and Understandinggives the clue to the difference between true Moralityand mere Prudence. Morality arising o ut o f the Reasonand Conscience o f Men

,and Prudence

,which in like

manner flows out o f the Understanding and the naturalWan ts and Desires o f the Indiv idual

,are two distinct

things." A writerwho,l ike Paley

,reduces morality to

prudence,is not en titled to be called a moralist. Schemes

o f conduct,grounded o n calculations o f self- interest ; o r

o n the average consequences o f actions, supposing themgeneral ; form a branch o f Political Economy, to whichlet . all due honour be given . Their utility is not herequestioned . But however estimable with in thei r own

Sphere,such schemes

,o r any one o f them in particular

,

may be,they do not belong to Moral Science

,to which

,

both in kind and purpose,they are in all cases foreign ,

and,when substituted fo r it

,hostile.

’ 3 An action is good,

not in respect o f its external consequences, but as anexpression o f the unity o f the human with the div inewill . ‘Whatever seeks to separate itself from the DivinePrinciple

,and proceeds from a false centre in the agent’s

particular will,is ev il— a work o f darkness and co n tradic

tion . It is S in,and essential falsehood.’ 1 Morality con

sists in the identity o f the will with the practical reason .

Conscience is a witness respecting the ident ity o f the willand the reason effected by the self- subo rd ination o f the

1 Aids to Reflection , Introd. to Aph. x.

1 I hid,underAph. vii.

1 I bid , Aph. xii. 4 Loc. cit.

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN 327

will, o r self, to the reason, as equal to , o r representing,the will o f God .

’ 1

The reader cannot fail to be disappointed with the styleo f the Aids to Reflection i t is certainly not to its l iteraryquali ty that its influence is to be traced . As Traillsays

,i t possesses ‘ less charm o f thought, less beauty o f

style,less even o f Coleridge’s seldom-failing force o f

effective Statement ’ than almost any o f his writings.1The Biographia Literaria is written more in the author

’sown manner

,

‘ the manner o f the great pulpit orators o fthe seventeenth century

,

’ whose spirit and style he hadcaught from sympathetic study o f their works . But thereal interest and value o f both books l ies in thei r substance and Spiri t

,in the thought and criticism which

they contain,in the moral earnestness which inspires

them,and communicates itself to the reader.

In an article written in 1 839, quoted in the Apologia,John Henry Newman connects Coleridge with Scott

,

So uthey,and Wordsworth

,as a representative o f the need

which was felt both by the heart and the intellect o f thenation fo r a deeper philosophy.

’ ‘While history in proseand verse was thus made the instrument o f Church feelingsand opinions

,a philosophical bas is fo r the same was laid

in England by a very original thinker, who , while heindulged a liberty o f speculation, which no Christiancan tolerate

,and advocated conclusions which were

Often heathen rather than Christian,yet after all in

stalled a higher philosophy into inquiring minds, thanthey had hitherto been accustomed to accept. In thisway he made trial o f his age, and succeeded in in teresting its genius in the cause o f Catholic truth .

’ 3 Newmanhimself

,in his Grammar of Assent attempts to

determine the true method o f thought o n the ultimatequestions. The work is o f great philosophical, as well asrel igious S ign ificance

,and is a remarkable example o f that

1 Essay on Faith.

1 Coleridge, in English Men o f Letters ,’ p. 1 79 .

3 Apologia, p. 9 7.


Style,so characteristic o f its autho r yet so impossib le to

describe,which combines perfect lucid ity and the to tal

absence o f strain ing after effect with a beauty and dign ityall its own

,the utmost simplicity with an undefinable

distinction .

Newman,l ike Coleridge

,is the enemy o f rationalism,

o r the attempt,which he regards as foredoomed to

fai lure,to reduce faith to terms o f logic. The ultimate ly

decisive element in Assent is,he holds

,the personal

element . Certitude is a subj ective feeling; varying withthe indiv idual

,rather than a unanimity determined by

reference to a common standard .

‘We need the interposition o f a Power

,greater than human teaching and

human argument,to make our beliefs true and our

minds one . ’ 1 We apprehend the ultimate Real ity in thesame way as we apprehend ordinary matters o f fact ; inboth cases alike Assent is implic itly rational

,though it

transcends the lim i ts o f explic it proof. The faith whichis present in all our so -called knowledge is

,we must

believe,entirely rational ; but it is vain to attempt to

rationalise it. T he certainties o f bel ief are themselvesthe final resultant o f a mass o f probabili ties ; the ‘ proofswhich determine our Assent are n o t logical proofs

,and

the attempt to establish the val id ity o f these beliefs o n

logical grounds can only result in incurable scepticism .

The entire argument rests upon the distinction betweenthe notional ’ and the real

,

’ the abstract and the concrete,

al ike in apprehension and in assent. The notional hasto do with the abstractions o f thought

,the real with

the actual things, the matters o f fact o f our experience.Real assent

,o r belief, since i t depends upon experience

is always personal,

‘ the accident o f this or that man .

It is always complete ; we cannot rightly Speak o f

degrees o f assent,’ varying from probability to certainty

according to the evidence that determ ines i t. Assentis never merely ‘ the echo o f an inference

,

’ it is always‘ a substantive act." We must further distinguish

1 Grammar of Assent, p. 375.

1 [bid.,p. 1 66 .


The real method by which we attain to concretecertainties

,by which conditional inference leads to nu

conditional assent,i s rather the intuitive judgmen t o r

perception which seiz es the conclusion as a result Of

a mass o f converging probabilities, the tact o f the trainedintellect which cannot analyse the reaso ns that haveappealed to i t, o r formulate the hin ts and suggest ionsthat have led to i ts decision .

‘ It is the cumulation o f

probabilities,independent o f each other

,aris ing out o f

the nature and circumstances o f the particular case whichis un der review probabilities too fine to avail separately,to o subtle and circuitous to be convertible into syllo gisms,to o numerous and various fo r such conversio n, evenwere they converti ble ." In such a real inference wefeel the momentum o f the mass o f probabil ities, co n

firm ing and correcting o ne another,and the conclusion

is ‘ an unwri tten summ ing-up’

; the mind is ‘ swayedand determined by a body o f pro o f

,which it recog

n ises only as a body,and no t in its consti tuent parts."

Or,more accurately stated

,the decisive factor in the

entire procedure is ‘ the liv ing mind ’

o f the indiv idual.The impression which the body o f proof makes uponthe individual m ind varies with the indiv idual ; for i tis n o t strictly an impression

,but the result o f the re

action o f the m ind itself. ‘ It follows that what to o ne

intellect is a proof is not so to another,and that the

certainty o f a proposition does properly cons ist in the

certitude o f the mind that contemplates it."The ultimate principle

,then

,in belief

,is a kind o f

instinct o r feeling fo r truth, what Newman calls ‘ theIllative Sense

,

’

o r right judgment in ratioc ination ’

; and‘ such a liv ing organon is a personal gift, and n o t a meremethod o r calculus." The ultimate premis es o r firstprinciples o f o ur reasoning are always personal. ‘ Evenwhen we agree together

,it is no t perhaps that we learn

o ne from another,o r fall under any law o f agreement,

but that our separate id iosyncrasies happen to concur.

"

1 Grammar of Assent p. 288.

1 I bid.,p. 29 2 .

1 I bid., p. 293.

1 I bid. , p. 316 .

5 I bsd. , p 373

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN 332

W hat guarantee have we,then

,fo r the obj ectivity

o f truth,if there is no common measure to which we

can appeal,if the only standard is the subj ective feeling o f

the ind iv idual ? The only answer is that we must trusto ur faculties ; the ultimate sanction o f truth is ‘ thetrustworth iness o f the Illative Sense." ‘ There is no

ultimate test o f truth besides the testimony borne to

truth by the mind itself." It is ‘ unmeaning ’ to‘ critic ise o r find fault with our own nature

,which is

n othing else than we ourselves,instead o f using it

according to the use o f which it ordinarily admits.’ Ourc ri ticism

,our very scepticism

,is an exercise o f that

n ature,and impl ies that it is accepted as trustworthy.

We need not hope,by ‘ antecedent reason ing

,

’

to provethis trustworthiness o r to escape the personal equationin o ur apprehension o f truth .

‘What is left to us butto take things as they are, and to resign ourselves towhat we find What is left to us but to accept ournature, in its intellectual as well as its moral faculties, asthe expression o f the will o f God ? Our trust in o ur

own nature is really trust in God,o urMaker.

The difliculty i tself, however, like Hume’s sceptical

doubt which also finds its practical solution in trust inhuman nature

,

’ arises from the failure to discriminate,

with in that nature,the common o r universal from the

merely ind ividual and idiosyncratic element. While itis obv iously unmeaning to attempt to transcend humannature and to find outside i t a standard o f truth to whichit must conform

,and while the language o f even such

a transcendental ist as Kant may well suggest such animpossible procedure

,it remains to ask whether, within

human nature,the rational and universal cannot be

discrim inated from the subjective and individual. New

man ’s own central v iew o f the implicit rational i ty o f

true bel ief suggests the possib i l ity o f i ts indefiniterationalisation. It does n o t follow that

,because the

ind ividual does not himself make the analysis o f the

1 Grammar of Assent, p. 359 .

1 I bid. p. 350 .


rational grounds o f his bel ief,his bel ief is incapable o f

such analysis and justification . It was the ambition o f

the Absolute Ideal ists to demonstrate the rational ity and

obj ectiv i ty o f that Assent the grounds o f which remainedfo r Newman inscrutable to reaso n .

2 . Absolute Idealism Earlier Version—Ferrier and Grate

The earliest, and in some ways the most impress ive,statement o f absolute idealism in English philosophy isthat o f J. F. Ferrier, professor o f moral ph ilosophy atS t. Andrews from 1845 to 1864. No less interested thanColeridge and Newman in the aflirmation o f a spiritualview o f the universe, he holds that it is po ss i ble todemonstrate the truth o f such a view . In any case heis convinced that it is the function o f Philoso phy to

demonstrate truth ; b e defines it as ‘ a body o f reaso nedtruth

,

’ ‘ the attainment o f truth by the way of reason .

’

I ts method is the ‘ speculative method,which means

nothing more than that we should expend upon the investigatio n the uttermost toil and application o f thought ;and that we should estimate the truths wh ich we arriveat

,not by the scale o f their importance

,but by the

scale o f their d ifficulty o f attainment, -o f their cost o f

production . Labour,we repeat it

,is the standard which

measures the value o f truth,as well as the value of

wealth .

" He has no patience,therefore

,with the pre

tensions o f the ‘ Philosophy o f Common Sense .

’

Of

Ham i lton,whom he knew intimately

,he says

,

‘ I havelearned more from him than from all other philosophersput together ; more, both as regards what I assented toand what I dissented from ’

; but he regarded the timespent by Ham ilton in editing Reid’s works as little betterthan wasted . So far from Common Sense being thecriterion o f philosophical truth

,he holds that ‘

the con

ciliation o f ordinary thinking,or common sense

,

”as it is

sometimes rather abusively called,and ph ilosophy

, can be

1 Philosophical Remains , 11. 431 .


feel much obliged to any o ne who would point th is out,

and make it clear. In o ther respects, my method isdiametrically Opposed to his ; he begins with the co n

s ideration o f Being my whole design compels me to beginwith the consideration o fKnowing.

’ 1 In the Institutes i tselfhe speaks o f Hegel as ‘ impenetrable, almost throughout,as a mountain o f adamant,

’ 1and exclaims

,Hegel

,—but

who has ever yet uttered o n e intelligible word aboutHegel ? No t any o f his countrymen, - no t any foreigner

,

—seldom even himself. ’ 3 Internal evidence confirmswhat these words suggest, that Ferrier worked his wayindependently to his conclusions by correcting and develo ping the idealism o f Berkeley, which seems to haveformed the real starting- poin t o f his own thinking, and

in which,as thus corrected and developed, he found the

substitute fo r the misleading views o f Reid and Hamilton .

It was probably no t so much the substance as the formo f Ferrier’s system,

d ifferent as the latter really is fromthat o f Hegel

,that suggested the author’s indebtedness to

the great German idealist. In the I nstitutes of M etaphysicthe argument is stated in a series o f propositions,

each o f which is demonstrated and made the bas is o f thosewhich follow

,after the manner o f Euclid or Spinoz a,

rather than that o f Hegel . On reading the bo ok, Millwrote : H is fabric o f speculation is so effectively co n

structed,and imposing

,that it almost ranks as a work

o f art. It is the romance o f logic ." In some ways,

however,the form m il itates against the effectiveness o f

the argument,giving it an air o f artificiality, dimin ish

ing its cumulative force and,in spite o f the d irectness,

lucid ity, and strength o f the style, seriously detracting fromthe li terary quality o f the work . In li terary qual i ty, aswell as in freshness and spontaneity and in breadth andrichness o f treatment

,the Introduction to the Philosophy of

Consciousness,originally published as a series o f articles in

Blachwood in 1838—39, must be placed higher ; no r can

it be said that the later statement adds anything o fmaterial1 Remain s , i. 486.

1

1 I bid. , p. 9 1 .

1

FERRIER 335

value to the earl ier argument. In both works there isa certain tendency to iteration and over-elaboration, inpart the result o f the author’s facil ity o f expression andtendency to rhetorical exaggeration . But the notableabsence o f pedantry and technicali ty and the generalsmoothness and crispness o f the statement atone in greatm easure fo r any such defects ; and the writer neverforgets his undertaking to make clear the successive stepsin the logical process o f the argument .In an essay on ‘ Berkeley and Ideal ism,

’ published in1 842 , perhaps Ferrier

’

s most perfect piece o f philosophicalwriting

,he signalises both the essential truth and the

essential defect in a theory which was at the time muchless understood than it is now . Berkeley

,he says

,

certainly was the first to stamp the indelible impress o fh is powerful understanding on those pr incip les o f our

n ature,which

,Since his time

,have brightened in to im

perishable truths in the light o f genuine Speculation .

H is genius was the first to swell the current o f that mightystream o f tendency towards which all modern meditationflows

,the great gulf- stream o f Absolute Idealism .

’ Theelement o fpeculiar value in Berkeley’s speculation is i ts concre teness

,i ts faithfulness to reality. The peculiar endow

ment by which Berkeley was distinguished,far beyond his

predecessors and contemporaries,and far beyond almost

every philosopher who has succeeded him,was the eye

he had for facts, and the singular pertinacity with whichhe refused to be dislodged from his hold upon them.

No man ever delighted less to expatiate in the regions o fthe occult

,the abstract

,the impalpable

,the fanciful

,and

the unknown . H is heart and soul clung with inseparabletenacity to the concrete realties o f the universe ; and withan eye un influen ced by spurious theories

,and unperverted

by false knowledge,he saw d irectly into the very life o f

things .

’ 1 H is theory needs only to be widened,and thus

corrected,to provide the true explanation o f which phil

Osophy is in search . How this is to be done,is more

1 Remains , 11. 293—4.


clearly stated in the Institutes. ‘He saw that somethingsubjective was a necessary and inseparable part o f everyobj ect o f cognition . But instead

.

Of maintain ing thatit was the ego o r oneself which clove inseparably to all

that could be known, and that this element must bethought o f along with all that is thought o f

,he rather

held that i t was the senses, o r our perceptive modes o f

cogn ition, which clove inseparably to all that could beknown, and that these required to be thought o f alon gwith all that could be thought o f. These

,j ust as much

as the ego , were held by him to be the subjective parto f the total synthesis o f cognition which could no t by anypossibil ity be discounted. Hence the unsatisfactory character o f his ontology, which, when tried by the test o fa rigorous logic

,will be found to invest the Deity—the

supreme mind, the infinite ego, which the terms o f hissystem necessarily compel him to place in synthesis withall th ings—with human modes o f apprehen sion

,with

such senses as belong to man—and to invest H im withthese

,not as a matter o f contingency

,but as a matter

o f necessity . Our only safety l ies in the considerationa consideration which is a sound

,indeed inevi table logical

inference—that o ur sensitive modes o f apprehension are

mere contingent elements and conditions o f cognition ;and that the ego or subject alone enters, o f necess ity, intothe composition o f everything which any intell igence can

know.

"

Although there are occasional references to Kan t inFerrier’s works, he develops his theory through a co n

tinuous critic ism o fReid,on the o n e hand, and o fHam i lton,

o n the other. Reid is,fo r him

,the representative o f

Psychology or the ‘ science o f the human mind,’ and

therefore,despite his own protestations to the con trary

,

o f Representationism .

’ Hamilton is the representativeo f Agnosticism, o r the doctrine o f the unknowablenesso f the Absolute Reality. Against the former v iew

,he

argues that we have a direct knowledge o f Real ity,both

1 I n stitutes , pp. 389 , 390.


Now we have seen that subj ect and object, o r mindand matter

, per se,are both alike unknowable in this

sense ; sin ce they are never presented in consc iousnessalone but always together, i t follows that they cannotbe represented or thought in separation from one another .It is o f such an inconceivable o r un intelligible real i tythat Hamilton proclaims that ignorance is inevitable ; hemight as well proclaim the unknowableness o f Noth ing

,

o r o f Nonsense. It is the glory, rather than the hum i l iation

,o f intelligence to repudiate the un in tell igible or

se lf- contradictory.On the bas is o f this ‘ epistemology ’ and ‘ agnoiologyFerrier proceeds to construct his ontology.’ Self-consciousmind

,the ultimate element in knowledge, is also the

ultimate element in existence . Repudiating the errorso f subjective idealism

,he finds himself compelled to accept

absolute o r objective idealism . The indiv idual ego , alongwith the universe o f his thought, is no t independen t.‘ The only independent universe which any mind or

ego can think o f i s the universe in synthesis with someother mind o r ego." And since one such other mind issufficient to account for the universe o f our experience

,

we are warranted in inferring that there is only o ne.

Ferrier thus summarises the argument which yields ‘ th istheistic conclusion ‘ Speculation shows us that theun iverse

,by itself

,is the contradictory ; that it is ih

capable Of self-subsistency,that it can exist only cum alio

,

that all true and cogitable and no n-contradictory existence is a synthesis o f the subj ective and the obj ective ;and then we are compelled

,by the most stringent neces

sity o f thinking,to conceive a supreme intelligence as

the ground and essence o f the Universal Whole. Thusthe postulation o f the Deity is no t only permissible, iti s unavoidable. Every mind thinks, and must th ink o f

God (however li ttle conscious it may be o f the operation which i t is performing), whenever i t thinks o f

anything as lying beyond all human observation, o r as

1 I nstitutes, Pt. i. Pro p. xiii.

JOHN GROTE 339

subsisting in the absence o r annihilation o f all finite intelligences .

’ 1

The ethical implications o f such an idealism are strikingly suggested in the Philosophy of Consciousness, wherethe parallelism between the functions o f self-consciousness in the intellectual and In the moral spheres is madeclear

,and it is shown that ‘ just as all perception origin

ates in the antagonism between consciousness and our

sensations,so all morality originates in the antagon ism

between consciousness and the passions,desires

,or inclina

tions o f the natural man .

" It is in this refusal to acceptthe guidance o f the natural passions and incl inations, th is‘ direct antithesis ’

o f the ‘ I ’

to the ‘ natural man,

’ thatour moral ‘ freedom consists. What is this supreme act

by which man asserts h is supremacy over nature, withinand without h imself ? ‘What is it but the act o f consciousn ess, the act o f becom ing “ I

,

” the act o f placingourselves in the room which sensation and passion havebeen made to vacate ? This act may be obscure in theextreme

,but still i t is an act o f the most practical kind

,

both in itself and in its results. Fo r what act can

be more vitally practical than the act by which we realiseour existence as free personal beings ? and what act canbe attended by a more practical result than the act bywhich we look our passions in the face, and, in the veryact o f looking at them

,looh them down

1

An interesting Statement o f an essentially idealistic viewis worked out with great independence by another Englishthinker

,John Grote

,Kn ightbridge professor o f moral

philosophy,In succession to Whewell, at Cambridge from

1 855 to 1 866, in his Exploratio Philosophica, the first parto f which was published in 1 865, the year before theauthor’s death . Grote called the work, modestly buttruthfully

,

‘ rough notes,

’ and its unfinished li terary formis doubtless largely responsible fo r the neglect which hasbeen its fate . It contains, however, much vigorous and

1 I nstitutes, p. 51 2 .

1 Remains, 11. 208.

1 I bid , 11. 20 1 .


suggestive thinking,and leaves the impression o f distinct

speculative power . The author’s own positions are develo ped by the discussion o f the v iews o f such Englishwriters as Ferrier

,Hamilton

,Mill

,and Whewell . His

point o f v iew is clearly idealistic,and closely akin to that

o f Ferrier. Speaking o f his own theory o f knowledge,he says

,

‘ I think Mr. Ferrier, with a manner o f ex

pression o f his own,and a more ambitious

,perhaps

a better,method

,does n o t in its great features differ

from it .’ 1 He thus states the great alternative o f metaphysical thought as it has been formulated in the movement o f English philosophy

,and leaves us in no doubt as

to his own decision .

‘The difference as to philoso phicalview which is a real and fundamental one, whereas almostall d ifferences which cannot be resolved into this have inthem more o r less o f vagueness and mutual misunderstanding, is that . between what I have called positiv ismo n the one side

,and o n the other a view contrasted with

this,which has no single name

,though in appl ication to

ethics I should call it “ idealism .

” The point o f the

d ifference is that in the former we look upon what wecan find out by physical research as ultimate fact, so faras we are concerned

,and upon conformity with it as the

test o f truth ; so that nothing is admitted as true exceptso far as i t follows by some process o f inference from this.In opposition to this

,the contrasted v iew is to the effect,

that for philosophy,for o ur entire judgment about things,

we must go beyond this, or rather go further back thanit, the ultimate fact really (however for the purposes o fphysical science we may assume the former) fo r us

the basis upon which all rests—being no t that th ingsexist

,but that we know them

,i.e. think o f them as ex

isting. In the former v iew,knowledge about things is

looked upon as a possibly superven ing accident to them o r

o f them in the latter view,their knowableness is a part,

and the most important part,o f their reality or essen tial

being. In the former v iew,mind is supposed to follow

,

1 Exploratio, pt. i. , p. 56.


an art icle in the Fortnightly Review for October 1867 (republished in the volume Jerrold

,Tennyson, and M acaulay)

the author passes a ruthless condemnation upon theSpurious reputation for a knowledge o f German ideal ismwhich had attached itself to the name o f Coleridge, as

well as,in a minor degree

,to that o f De Q uincey, and

fastens especially upon Coleridge’s ‘ dreamy misapprehensions ’ and ‘ strange m isrepresentations ’

o f the Kantianphi losophy. H imself profoundly convinced o f the trutho f the Hegelian system

,he set himself, in the Secret, to

explain and defend that system. Stirl ing undoubtedlypossessed ‘ the temperament o f genius,

’ and was a mano f remarkable speculative insight ; but his style, thoughoften striking

,is so marked by the influence o f Carlyle,

and he so resolutely declines to conform to ordinarystandards o f systematic exposition, that his work is almostas diflicult as the original which it is intended to illuminate. Yet its importan ce, and i ts influence at the timeo f its appearance

,are not to be underestimated ; it

certainly called the attention o f the English- Speaking worldto the significance o f a system which even Ferrier hadpronounced unintell igi ble

,and brought home to the

English mind the necessity o f coming to term s,no t only

with Hegel,but with his predecessors

,Kant

,Fichte, and

Schelling. Fo r Stirl ing insisted upon going back to theorigins o f Hegelianism in these earl ier systems, and in1 881 he followed up the Secret of Hegel with the Textbooh to Kant

,in which the defects o f the earlier work

were less apparent and in which he supported a one

sided interpretation o f the Kantian philosophy, as re

presented by the first two div isions o f the Critique ofPure Reason

,with great learning and wi th remarkable

ab il ity. H is translation o f Schwegler’

sHistory of Philosophy,published in 1867, which passed through many editionsand was used by many generations o f students, con tainsa series o f i lluminating ‘ annotations ’ which rival ininterest and value the substance o f the History itself. Alittle volume o f lectures o n The Philosophy of Law ( 1 873)and the Gifford lectures on Philosophy and Theology

EDWARD CAIRD 343

1 890 ) complete the list o f Stirl ing’s more importantcontributions to philosophy. The standpoint is alwaysthe same— that o f the Hegelian idealism ,

which Stirl ingis inclined to interpret in a theistic rather than in apantheistic sense.The Secret was followed by a long series o f worksdevoted to the same purpose o f acquainting the insularEnglish mind with the meaning o f the German idealisticsystems. O f these the most notable, as expositions o fKantand Hegel

,were Edward Caird ’s Philosophy of Kant ( 1878)

and The Critical Philosophy of Immanuel KantWilliam Wallace’s translations

,with Prolegomena

,o f

Hegel’s Logic ( 1 874) and o f the Philosophy of M ind

and Caird ’s l ittle volume o n Hegel in Blackwood’s Philo

sophical C lassics ’Caird ’s works o n Kant are

,

however, by no means merely expository they are criticalin the sense o f correcting the Kantian philosophy in thel ight o f what the writer regards as its deeper principles

,

which were only imperfectly grasped by Kant himself,

and the comprehension o f which delivers us from thel im itations o f the Kantian philosophy. While, especiallyin the second and larger work, Caird bestowed immensepains upon the investigation o f the actual text o f the

Critiques, as well as o f the gradual development o f Kant’s

thought, as shown in earlier works, his ulterior purpose, in

both books,is to use Kant as a stepping-stone to what he

regards as the more adequate system o f Hegel. In hislectures from the chair o f moral philosophy in the University o f Glasgow from 1 866 to 1 893, and afterwards asMaster o f Balliol College

,Oxford

,as well as in his Gifford

lectures on The Evolution of Religion ( 189 2 ) and The

Ev olution of Theology in the Greeh Philosophers heused Hegelianism with great effectiveness as a point o fv iew from which to interpret the movement o f philo so phical and rel igious thought, and as a weapon with which towithstand the material istic and agnostic tendenc ies o f thetime . Discarding the techn ical details o f the system, andavailing himself o f its essential method, he sought to

substitute concrete fo r abstract thinking and to reconcile

344 ENGLI SH PHILOSOPHERS

the contradictions o f the sc ientific understanding in thehigher synthesis o f the speculative reason . It was thesame work whi ch Ferrier had attempted with less ade

quate historical outfit ; and while the inspiration alwaysobv iously came from Hegel, Caird

’s own words are true o fhimself : ‘ The literal importation o f Kan t and Hegelinto another country and time would no t be poss ible if i twere desirable

,o r desirable if it were poss ible. The mere

change o f time and place, if there were nothing mo re,implies new questions and a new attitude o f mind in thosewhom the writer addresses, which would make a barereproduction unmeaning. Moreover, this change o f themental atmosphere and environment is i tself part o f adevelopment which must affect the do ctrine also

,if i t is no

mere dead tradi tion,but a seed o f new intellectual l ife.

Any one who writes about philoso phy must have his workjudged

,n o t by its relation to the intellectual wan ts o f a

past generation,but by its power to meet the wants o f the

present time— wants which arise out o f the advance o fscience

,and the new currents o f influence which are

transform ing man ’s social and religious l ife ." Judged bysuch a standard, Caird

’s contribution to the Engl ishphilosophical thought o f his time must be accorded greatvalue and importance .

In Caird ’s own judgment, however, as expressed in thesame place

,Thomas H i l l Green

,to whose memory the

volume is dedicated, was ‘ an author who,perhaps more

than any recent writer o n philosophy,has shown that i t

is possible to combine a thorough apprbpriatio n o f the

results o f past speculation with the freshness and spontan eity o f an original mind .

’

His philosophy is no merereproduction o f German idealism

,even in the sense in

which Caird ’s work mus t be so described . While his ‘who lework was devoted

,

’ as the latter writer says, ‘to the

development o f the results o f the Kan tian cri tic ism o f

knowledge and morals,’ he can not justly be described as a

1 Preface to E ssay s in Philosophical Criticism, edited by A. Seth andR3 Ba Haldane


Although Green did no t himself ‘ do i t all over again,’

he did make a serious effort so to restate the idealisticposition as to free it from the difficulties suggested inthe above critic ism : and we have the result in the

Prolegomena to Ethics,published posthumously in 1 883.

The presuppos ition o f a theory o f ethics is,he holds

,the

demonstration o f the spiritual nature o f man ; a ‘ naturalscience o f man,

’ such as that from which Spencer hadrecently attempted to deduce the ‘ data o f ethics,

’

seemedto Green to contradict the very idea o f ethics . Accordingly he devotes the first book o f his treatise to the

investigation o f the metaphysics o f knowledge,’ his object

being to show that there is a ‘ spiritual principle ’ inknowledge

,and therefore in nature. Like Ferrier

,he

insists upon the necessity o f postulating a self-consciousand self-differentiating subject at the heart o f knowledge,showing that Reality, as known, is a ‘ system o f relationswhich presupposes the synthetic activ ity o f the self. The

finite subj ect Of knowledge, whose function i t is to relateo r think the data o f sensation

,and thus to consti tute out

o f them objects o f knowledge,and a world o f such obj ects

,

is the reproduction in time o f that Eternal Consciousnesswhich alone can account at once fo r theintelligib ili of

nature and fo r our intellectual hesignificance o f such a view is pointedly suggested in thereview from which I have already quoted. T o assume

,

because all reali ty requires thought to conceive i t,that

therefore thought is the condition o f i ts ex istence,is,

indeed,unwarrantable. But it is another matter if

,when

we come to examine the constituents o f that which weaccount real—the determinations o f things—we find thatthey all imply some synthetic action which we only knowas exercised by o ur own spirit . IS it no t true o f all o f

them that they have their being in relations ; and whatother medium do we know o f but a thinking consc iousness in and through which the separate can be un i ted inthat way which constitutes relation ? We be lieve thatthese questions cannot be worked out without leading tothe conclusion that the real world is essentially a Spiritual

T . H . GREEN 347

world,which forms one inter- related whole because related

throughout to a single subj ect. But when we havesatisfied ourse lves that the world in its truth or full realityis Spiritual

,because on n o other supposition is its unity

explicable,we may still have to confess that a knowledge

o f i t in its spiri tual reality— such a knowledge o f it aswould be a knowledge o f God— is impossible to us. T o

know God we must be God . The unifying principle o fthe world is indeed in us ; i t is our self. But, as in us, iti s so conditioned by a particular animal nature that, whilei t yields that idea o f the world as one which regulates allour knowledge

,our actual knowledge remains a piece

m eal process . We Spell out the relations o f th ings o neby one ; we pass from condition to condition, from effectto effect but, as o ne fragment o f truth is grasped, anotherhas escaped us

,and we never reach that totality o f ap

prehension through which alone we could know the

world as i t is and God in it. This is the infirmity o f ourdiscursive understanding. I f in one sense it reveals God

,

in another i t h ides him . Language which seems to implyits identification with God

,or with the world in its

sp iritual reality,can lead to nothing but confusion .

’ Onthe other hand

,

‘ that there is one sp i ritual self-consciousbeing

,o f which all that is real is the activity or expres

sion that we are related to this Spiritual being,not merely

as parts o f the world which is i ts expression , but as partakers in some inchoate measure o f the self-consciousnessthrough which it at once constitutes and distinguishesitself from the world that this partic ipation is the sourceo f morality and religion ; this we take to be the vitaltruth which Hegel had to teach.

"

As the self transforms impressions o f sense into objectso f knowledge

,so it transforms mere animal wants into

motives o f action . A motive is an idea o f personal good,constituted by the identification o f the self with somesolicitation o f sensibil ity

,this activ ity o f the self establish

ing man ’s freedom in the moral as well as in the in tellec

1 Works , iii., 145—6.

348 ENGLI SH PHILOSOPHERS

tual life. The activ ity is in bo th cases alike Spiritual,activity o f thought, speculative and practieal, by which inthe one case we ideal ise the real and in the other real isethe ideal . The good

,the idea o f which is the mo tive o f

all virtuous action,i s a common or social, whi le it is at

the same time a personal good. Soc ial l ife is tom n

ali ty what language is to thoughm n, as a social

being, is his own end .

‘ I t is only in himse lf as he maybecome, in a complete real isation o f what he has it inhim to be in his perfect Character

,that he can find

satisfaction . What th is perfection is in detail we knowon ly accord ing to the measure o f what we have so far

done or are doing fo r its attainment. And this is to sa ythat we have n o knowledge o f the perfection o f man as

the uncond itional go od,but that which we have o f his

goodness o r the goo d will, in the form which it hasassumed as a means to

,o r in the cEo rt after, the unco n

ditio nal good ; a good which is no t an o bject o f Speculative knowledge to man

,but o f which the idea—the

conviction o f there be ing such a thing— is the influencethrough which his life is directed to its attainment. ’ 1

The inevitable correlate o f the moral as o f the in tellectual life is God. The moral ideal implies ‘ the eternalrealisation fo r

,or in

,the eternal mind o f the capac ities

gradually realised in time . A state o f life or consciousness no t yet attained by a subject capab le o f it, in

relation to that subject we say actually is not ; but if therewere no consciousness fo r which it existed

,there would

be no sense in saying that in p ossibility it is,for it would

simply be nothing at all.’ It follows that there must beeternally such a subject which is all that the self-conscious subject

,as developed in time

,has the possibility o f

becom ing ; in which the idea o f the human spirit, o r all

that it has in itself to become,is completel realised.

This consideration may suggest the true no tIon o f the

spiritual relation in which we stand to God ; that He isnot merely a Being who has made us, in the sense that we

1 Prolegomena to Ethics , sect. 183.1 I bid" sect. 195.


sophical express ion . H is atti tude to Hegel is certainly no tless independent than that o f Green . In the Preface toThe Principles of Logic ( 1883) he says : For Hegel himself,assuredly I think him a great philosopher

,but I never could

have called myself an Hegelian,partly because I canno t say

that I have mastered his system,and partly because I could

not accept what seems his main principle,o r at least part

o f that principle . ’ In his earliest work,Ethical Studies

a book which,he tells us in Appearance and

eality,‘ in the main still expresses my opinions

,

’ hisallegiance to the Hegelian philosophy is much moremarked . But at the close o f the Logic he thus explicitlyproclaims his abandonment o f the view

,common to Hegel

and Green,that ‘ the real is the rational

,

’ that thoughtand reality are identical . ‘ Unless thought stands forsomething that falls beyondmere intelligence

,if think

ing ” is n o t used with some strange implication that n everwas part o f the meaning o f the word

,a lingering scruple

still forbids us to believe that reality can ever be purelyrational . It may come from a failure in my metaphysics,o r from a weakness o f the flesh which continues to blindme

,but the notion that existence could be the same as

understanding Strikes as cold and ghost- like as the dreariest .

materialism . That the glory o f this world in the end isappearance ,

leaves the world more glorious,if we feel it

is a Show o f some fuller Splendour ; but the sensuouscurtain is a deception and a cheat

,if it h ides some colour

less movement o f atoms, some spectral woof o f impalpableabstractions

,or unearthly ballet o f bloodless categories.

Though dragged to such conclusions,we cannot embrace

them . Our principles may be true, but they are notreali ty. They no more make that Whole which com

mands our devotion,than some shredded d issection o f

human tatters is that warm and breathing beauty o f fleshwhich our hearts found delightful . ’ 1

Mr. Bradley calls his chiefwork a sceptical study o ffirstprinciples

,

’ 1 and its result is to establish the ultimate1 Principles of Logic, p. 533.

1 Appearance andReality , Pref. , p. x11.

F . H . BRADLEY 351

inadequacy o f all our so -called knowledge. The contrad ictions o f thought

,he argues

, prove our ignorance o f

real ity. S ince our ideas contradict existence,as well as

one another,the world o f thought is shown to be a world

o fmere appearance . In its very nature,thought is vitiated

by a fatal flaw it is discursive or relational,and relations

never express reality or existence . The very act o f

j udgment is fallacious. To judge is to predicate one ideaor concept o f another, o r rather o f reality as already so

far conceived in the subj ect- concept ; but the two co n

cepts are fo r ever different from one another. Wenever succeed in solv ing ‘ the old puz z le

,how to justify

the attributing to a subj ect something other than itself,

and which the subject is not . ’ 1 ‘ The problem o f

reco nciling intelligibly the diversity with the unityso far has shown itself intractable ." This holds o f theself, as well as o f the not-self ; ‘ in whatever way the selfis taken

,i t will prove to be appearance. ’ 1 It follows that

we are lim ited to the apprehension o f mere appearances.Only the self-consistent is real

,and our real ity is never

self-co nsistent. ‘ Our failure so far l ies in th is, that wehave not found the way in which appearances can belongto reality.

’ ‘1

On the other hand,we must admit the reality o f the

appearances,although not as they appear . S ince they

belong to,or are owned by reali ty

,the appearances must

be harmonious or self-consistent and to be harmonious,

they must subm it to the modification which renders themcapable o f such existence. We may say that everything

,

which appears,is somehow real in such a way as to be self

consistent . The character o f the real is to po ssess everything phenomenal in a harmo n ious form . Appearancemust belong to reality

,and it must therefore be conco r

dant and other than it seems. The bewildering mass o fphenomenal d iversity must hence somehow be at un i tyand self-consistent ; fo r i t cannot be elsewhere than inreality

,and reality excludes discord .’ 5 The clue to the

1 Appearance and Reality , p . 57.1 I bid. , p. 58.

3 I bid. , p. 1 1 9 .

1 I bid.,p. 132 .

1 I bid. , p. 140 .


nature o f Reali ty o r the Absolute is found in the un i ty o fthat immediate experience

,sentience o r

‘ feel ing,

’ whichconceptual or discursive thought breaks up into distinctobjects and subjects

,and which such thought is itself

unable to restore. The lower or infra-relational unity o ffeel ing suggests dimly to us the nature o f the higher orsupra-relational un i ty in which the differences o f the fin iteor phenomenal world are overcome and fused in a singleall- inclusive andharmonious Whole. The same term,

experience

,

’ covers both— the unity which is below and thatwhich is above thought. The Absolute is a single

,all

inclusive,and perfectly harmonious experience. That

there is such a perfect experience,v ictorious over all the

difliculties which beset the human understanding,we

must assume ; but its nature we can apprehend only indim outline and by analogy with its lower prototype o f

mere animal feeling. Its detailed content—how the con

tradictio ns are overcome— is beyond our grasp . All thatwe can say is that ‘ somehow —we know not howthese contradictions are overcome

,and the Whole is

experienced as such.

While no finite obj ect,or obj ect o f thought, survives

unchanged,or as such

,in the Absolute

,but all alike

suffer tran smutation when resolved into the ultimateReal ity

,yet this change may partake more o f the nature

o f supplementation o r more o f that o f negation and

suppression . The Absolute,we may say in general

, has

no assets beyond appearances and again,with appearances

alone to its credit, the Absolute would be bankrupt. Allo f these are worthless alike apart from transmutation .

But,on the other hand once more

,Since the amount o f

change is different in each case,appearances diEer wide ly

in their degrees o f truth and reali ty. There are predicates which

,in comparison with others

,are false and

unreal .’ 1 ‘The more an appearance,in being corrected

,

is transmuted and destroyed, the less reality can such an

appearance contain ; or, to put it otherwise, the less

1 Appearance andReality ,p. 489.


should find more o f the first character with less o f thesecond. The ideal o f spirit, we may say, i s d irectlyopposite to mechanism . Spirit is a unity o f the man ifoldin which the externality o f the manifold has utterlyceased . The universal here is immanent in the parts, andits system does not l ie somewhere outside and in therelations between them . It is above the relational formand has absorbed it in a higher un ity

,a whole in which

there is no div ision between elements and laws.’ 1

Yet even in Spirit we have n o t apprehended the

Absolute ; even it must be transmuted and absorbed inthat higher unity and totality . Pure spirit is n o t realisedexcept in the Absolute . It can never appear as such andwith its full character in the scale o f existence . Per;fectio n and indiv iduality belong only to that Whole inwhich all degrees alike are at once present and absorbed .’ 1

The interpretation o f Reality as Spirit is the highest truthwe can reach about it ; but even Truth itself is not real.Reality is concrete, while the truest truth must stil l bemore or less abstract.’ 3 It must be admitted that

,in the

end,no possible truth is quite true . It is a partial and

inadequate translation o f that which it professes to givebodily . And this internal discrepancy belongs irremo v

ably to truth’s proper character ." We must indeedinsist upon the difference between ‘ absolute and finite ’

truth . The former is not ‘ intellectually corrigible.’

‘ There is no intellectual alteration which could possibly,

as general truth,bring i t neare r to ultimate Reality.

Absolute truth is corrected only by passing outside the

intellect . It Is modified only by taking In the remain ingaspects o f experience . But in this passage the propernature o f truth is, o f course, transformed and perishes .

Truth is one aspect o f experience,and is therefore made

imperfect and lim ited by what i t fails to include " We

can know the universe only in its general character,no t

in its details. It is not known,and it never

,as a whole,

can be known,in such a sense that knowledge would be

1 Appearance and Reality , p. 49 8. I bid., p. 4991 I bid. , p . 397.

1 I bid.,p. 544.

1 I bid., p. 545.

F. H. BRADLEY 355

the same as experience o r real ity. For knowledge andtruth— if we suppose them to possess that identity—wouldhave been

,therewith

,absorbed and transmuted .

’ 1 Truthis conditional

,but it cannot be intellectually transcended .

To fi l l in its conditions would be to pass into a wholebeyond mere intellect.’ 1

It does not follow,however, that the Absolute is an

unknowable Thing-in- i tself. Mr. Bradley tells us thathis aim has been to avoid this error o f the sheer transcendence o f the Absolute

,no less than the opposite one

,

that o f its complete and indiscrim inate immanence in allappearances alike . ‘ It costs l ittle to find that in the endReality is inscrutable. It is a simple matter to conclude further

,perhaps

,that the Real sits apart, that it keeps

s tate by i tse lf and does no t descend into phenomena. O ri t is as cheap

,again

,to take up another side o f the same

e rror. The Reality is v iewed perhaps as immanent inall i ts appearances

,in such a way that i t is

,al ike and

equally,present in all. Everything is so worthless on o ne

hand, so divine on the other, that nothing can be vileror can be more sublime than anyth ing else. It is againstboth sides o f th is mistake

,it is against this empty tran

scendence and this shallow Pantheism,that our pages may

be called one sustained polemic." ‘ Real ity appears ini ts appearances

,and they are its revelation and otherwise

they also could be nothing whatever. The Reali ty comesinto knowledge

,and

,the more we know o f anything

,the

more in one way is Reality present with us. The Realityis o ur criterion o f worse and better

,o f. ugliness andbeauty,

o f true and false,and o f real and unreal. It in brief

decides between,and gives a general meaning to

,higher

and lower. It is because o f this criterion that appearancesd iffer in worth ; and

,without it

,lowest and highest

would, fo r all we know, count the same in the universe.And Reality is one Experience, self-pervading and superiorto mere relations. Its character is the opposite o f thatfabled extreme which is barely mechan ical, and it is, in

1 Appearance and Reality , p. 545.

1 I bid. , p. 547.

1 I bid., p. 551 .


the end,the sole perfect realisation o f spiri t. We may

fairly close this work then by insisting that Reality isSpiritual . There is a great saying o f Hegel’s, a saying to owell known

,and o ne which without some explanation

I should n o t like to endorse. But I will end with some

thing not very different,something perhaps more certainly

the essential message o f Hegel. Outside o f spirit there isn o t

,and there cannot be

,any reality

,and

,the more that

anything is spiritual,so much the more is it veritably

real ."How far Mr. Bradley has travelled from the positions

o f earlier English idealists must be clear from the accoun to f his philosophy which has just been given . But wemay signalise

,in conclusion

,three important points in

which he dissents from the teaching o f Green,his mos t

importan t predecessor . The first is the ultimateness o f

personality. While Green confidently applied the con

ceptio n o f self-consciousness to God,Mr . Bradley regards

this conception,l ike all others

,as inapplicable to the

Absolute. The self being,equally with the no t-se lf,

mere appearance,and the conception o f an infin i te perso n

being self-contradictory,i t follows that the Absolute is

supra-personal. Personality is indeed a higher degree o freality than that o f impersonal things . ‘ It is better toaflirm personal ity than to call the Absolute impersonal.But neither mistake should be necessary. The Absolutestands above

,and no t below,

its internal d istinct ions."Secondly

,he dissents from Green’s doctrine o f the ulti

mateness o f morality this to o is fo r him only appearan ce,no t reality.

‘ The radical v ice o f all goodness ’is seen

in the irreconcilable dualism o f the ethical ideals o f se lfrealisation and self-sacrifice . It is the essential nature o fmy self

,as finite

,equally to assert and

,at the same time

,

to pass beyond itself ; and hence the objects o f self-sacrihee and o f self-advancement are each equally mine."This inconsistency o f goodness, i ts ‘ self-contradiction inprinciple

,

’ proves that ‘ goodness is n o t absolute o r ulti1 Appearance and Reality , 552 .

2 I bid. , p. 533.

3 I bid., p. 417.

CONCLUSION

PRESENT TENDENCIES IN ENGLISH

PH ILOSOPHY

IT is the task o f the future h istorian to determine thesignificance o f the present tendencies o f philosophicalthought in England . In philosophy, as in li terature, itis impossible to estimate the importance o f a movementbefore it has had time to develop its implications. Whatabsorbs the attention o f the present generation may sinkinto insignificance in the eyes o f a later age. St ill

,it

seems fitting to conclude this study o f English philosophywith a brief

,and necessarily tentative, indication o f

the new developments which seem to be taking place inthe present day in that philosophy

,and to suggest their

connexion with those earlier l ines o f thought which wehave endeavoured to trace .Two new features, both o fwhich date from the closingdecades o f the nineteenth century

,may be noted before

we attempt th is characterisation . The first is the con

fluence o f the two streams o f English and Americanphilosophy. There has occurred, within a quite recentperiod

,a remarkable development o f philosophical act ivity

in America,and philosophical discussion in England has

received a distinct impulse from that development. Itseems certain that, in the future, the movement o f philosophical thought in England and America will be a singlemovement

,and that English philosophy will gain, in depth

as well as in volume,by the combination . The second

impulse has come from the new scientific Spiri t in whichthe problems o f psychology have recently been investigated

,

the works which mark the inauguration o f the new epoch353

CONCLUSION 359

being Professor James Ward’s article Psychology in theninth edition o f the Encyclopasdia Britannica ( 1886) andWilliam James’s Principles of Psychology Thenew psychology has been prosecuted in America withan ardour greater even than in England ; and in bothcountries the conviction has grown that, while it isnecessary to differentiate psychology with a new sharpness from metaphysics

,as well as from logic and ethics,

full account must be taken o f its results if our theoriesin these departments o f philosophy are to be scientificallybased . English philosophy has tended in the past, as

we have seen,to adopt the psychological method . The

more adequate understanding o f the psychological problemseems to promise much new light o n the limitations o fpsychology

,as well as the correction o f certain errors

in philosophy which were the result o f an inadequatepsychology.The most striking feature o f the present situation is theabsence o f any really constructive or reconstructive metaphysical effort. On all hands we find signs o f dissatisfactionwith the results o f such efforts in the past

,o f dissatisfact ion

with idealism in particular . While the idealism o f the nineteen th century has sti ll such distinguished representativesas Mr. Bosanquet in England and Professor Royce inAmerica (to mention only the most outstanding names),there is

,even within the idealistic school

,a reaction

against the intellectual istic tendency o f that view. Thereaction against idealism takes various forms—that o f thereassertion o f empiricism

,o f a new realism,

’ and o f pragmatism . The common feature o f these reactions, overand above thei r common hostil ity to ideal ism,

is an effortto approximate philosophy to science. They all alikeare main ly concerned with questions o f the theory o f

knowledge,o f logic or methodology

,rather than with

properly metaphysical questions ; and in all o f them alikewe may see the effect, somewhat paralysing, o f the greatscientific movement o f the latter half o f the n ineteenthcentury upon the philosophical mind o f the Englishspeaking race.


It is doubtless,in part

,a consequence Of the attention

drawn by psychology to the affective and volitional aspectso f the mental l ife

,as well as in reaction from Green ’s

view o f reality as a system o f relations,that within,

as well as without the idealistic school, a protest has beenraised against ‘ intellectualism or ‘ rationalism .

’ Thepublication Of Appearance and Reality ( 1 893) marks aturning-point in this direction . In that work Mr. Bradleyseems fatally to depreciate our knowledge, in the strictsen se, o f the Absolute

,insisting

,as we have seen, upon

the inevitable inadequacy o f Truth,and the necessity

o f supplementing our intellectual apprehension o f Realityby other modes or attitudes which enable us to realisei ts other aspects. It is not surprising, therefore, to findthat

,among those who are in essential agreement with

the idealistic point o f view, a new stress has recentlybeen laid on the significance o f the life o f will or moralpersonali ty

,a tendency which is in keeping with the

ethical trend o f English phi losophy in the past and no t

unconnected with the influence o f the Scott ish school .1

Perhaps the most characteristic statement o f the

empirical reaction against idealism,as well as one o f

the most characteristic documents o f con temporaryEnglishphilosophy

,is found in Robert Adamson ’s Development of

M odern Philosophy Adamson ’s earlier works onthe philosoph ies o f Kant and Fichte and his art icle on‘ Logic in the Encylopeedia Britannica (ninth edi tion) arewritten from the standpoint o f a convinced adherent o fidealism . The volumes just mentioned

,published posthu

mously under the editorial care o f Professor Sorley, containthe substance o f his lectures as professor o f logic and metaphysics in the University o f Glasgow

,and indicate

,in a

clear though brief and tentative way,how radically his

views had changed in the later years o f his philosophicalactiv ity. The keynote is struck in the inaugural address

1 Cf. A. S eth Pringle-Pattiso n , Scottish Philosophy Hegelian

ism and Personality Man’s Place in the Cosmos G. H.

Howison , The Limits of Evolution


unequivocally.

" A reflective analysis o f experience discloses

,Mr. Hodgson holds

,the distinctness

,though in

separableness, o f consc iousness and existence, knowledge

and reality,subj ect and object. Reality

,as the content

o f experience, is the obj ect o f consciousness or knowledgebut as existent

,i t is conditioned by

,and continuous with

the entire context o f that reality which includes con sciousness no less truly than consciousness includes it. Co n

sciousness,in other words, does not account for i tself ; i t

is part o f a greater whole,in which the conditions o f its

existence must be sought. And beyond the seen, orfinite and material conditions

,li e the unseen and infinite

conditions which,though beyond the reach o f speculative

knowledge,are the postulates Of a practical faith in the

reali ty o f moral distinctions.

The real istic reactIo n,which seems to be gain ing force

both in England and in America,and which is assoc iated

in this country with the names o fMr. Bertrand Russelland Mr. George E. Moore

,is difficult to describe

,in

the absen ce o f any systematic statement o f the po si tion.It appears to be a subtler version o f Natural Realism,

a doctrine o f the distinct and independent existence Of

the obj ect,as unaffected by our knowledge o f it . In

opposition to the idealistic view o f relations as internalor organic

,constituted by the knowing mind

,i t is insisted

that relations are external, and do not affect the natureo f the things or terms related . In this view o f relationthese writers seek a way out o f the difliculties whichthe idealistic interpretation has found to be insuperable.Current statements o f the view are mainly logical andmethodological, insisting upon the necessity o f a n ew

logic as the presupposition o f a better metaphysic. As

Mr . Russell says,

‘What seems to me so far fi rmlyestablished is a logic and a method, rather than anypositive metaphysical results."

1 T. M . Fo rsyth , English Philosophy ,p. 185.

1j ournal of Philosophy , viii. 160 .

CONCLUSION 363

Perhaps the most novel,as i t is certainly the most

prominent,form o f the reaction against ideal ism is that

o f Pragmatism ,a name which suggests its affinity with

the practical and ethical trend which we have seen to

be one o f the most characteristic features o f Englishphilosophy in the past. But the new movement strikesa note unheard till now in the national philosophy .

Those who had hitherto insisted upon the supremacyo f the ethical interest and the necessities o f the practicall ife claimed fo r faith the right and the ability to answer,in its own practical way, the questions which were foundto be unanswerable in terms o f knowledge ; they affirmedthe necessity o f faith as a substitute fo rreasoned knowledge.The new contention o f Pragmatism is that knowledgeitself depends on practical considerations

,that the intellect

always and inev itably works in subordination to the willand i ts purpo ses

,that all knowledge is utilitarian

,and

that the criterion o f truth is not conformity to reality,but i ts instrum ental value

,the results which follow from

its acceptance .T he movement originated in America, and is associated in that coun try with the names o f William Jamesand Professo r John Dewey

,while its most important

English advocate is Dr. F . C . S . Schiller.

1 James,to

whose gift o f style and reputation as a psychologist thetheory owes much o f its popularity

,dedicated his Will to

Believe ( I 897) to Mr . C . S . Peirce, to whom,in Pragmatism

he attributes the origin o f the name and thetheory.

‘ In an article entitled “ How to Make OurIdeas C lear

,

” in the Popular Science M onthly fo r January1 878, Mr. Peirce

,after pointing out that our beliefs

are really rules fo r action,said that

,to develop a

thought’s mean ing,we need only determine what con

duct it is fitted to produce : that conduct“ is for us itssole significance . And the tangible fact at the root o f

all our thought-distinctions,however subtle, is that there

1 Cf . Dewey , S tudies in Logical Theoejy ( 1 903) Schiller.Humanismand S tudies zn Human ism Henry Sturt (and others ) ,

Personal Idealism


is n o one o f them so fine as to consist in anything buta possible difference o f practice. T o attain perfect clearness in o ur thoughts o f an object

,then

,we need only

consider what con ceivable effects o f a practical kindthe obj ect may involve—what sensations we are toexpect from it

,and what reactions we must prepare.

Our conception o f these effects,whether immediate or

remote,is then fo r us the whole o f our con ception o f

the obj ect,so far as that conception has positive signifi

can ce at all . This is the principle o f Peirce, the principleo f pragmatism . It lay entirely unnoticed by any o ne for

twenty years,until I

,in an address before Professor Howi

son ’s phi losophical union at the university o f California,brought i t forward again and made a Special application o fi t to rel igion .

’ 1

James’s own statement o f the method o f pragmatism ison the same lines as that o f Peirce, making the criterion o ftruth purely practical

,and interpreting knowledge as the re

action o f the intellect,in the service o f the will, to the needs

o f the practical life as these change with i ts changing c ircumstances. The pragmatic method

,

’ he tells us,is to try to

interpret each notion by tracing its respective practical consequen ces. What difference would it practically make toany one if this notion rather than that notion were trueIf no practical difference whatever can be traced

,then the

alternatives mean practically the same thing, and all disputeis idle . ’ 2 In other words

,the theoretical must be re

duced to the practical difference. The pragmatic attitudeis the attitude o f looking away from first things, principles,categories

,

” supposed n ecessities ando f looking towardslast things

,frui ts

,consequences, facts.

’ 3 In an essayo n

‘ Reflex Action and Theism ,

’ first published in 1 881 ,James offers the same interpretation o f the function of

thought in the life o f man . It is only the middle segmento f the mental curve

,andnot its termination the mediator

between sensation and action, or, better, reaction .

‘ As

the last theoretic pulse dies away, i t does not leave the1 Pragmatism, pp. 46, 47.

2 1611 , p. 45.

I bid. , p. 54.


parts o f our experience,to summarise them and get about

among them by conceptual short-cuts in stead o f following the interminable succession o f particular phenomena.Any idea upon which we can ride

,so to Speak ; any idea

that will carry us prosperously from any o ne part o f ourexperience to any other part, l inking things satisfactorily,working securely

,simplifying

,sav ing labour ; is true fo r

just so much, true in so far forth, true instrumentally.

’ 1

In the Principles of Psychology, however, James had himselfalready clearly affi rmed the teleological o r instrumentalsignificance o f conceptual thought, and had identified thisinterpretation with that which connects theory withpractice. ‘The conception with which we handle a bito f sensible experience is really nothing but a teleologicalinstrument. This whole function o f conceiving, o f fixing,and holding fast to meanings, has no significance apartfrom the fact that the conceiver is a creature with partialpurposes and private ends.’ 2

There are two main grounds o n which the Pragmatistsrest their opposition to Absolute Idealism . The first is thati t is the expression o f an abstractly theoretical, rational istic,or intellectualistic attitude

,while the right attitude is practi

cal o r voluntaristic . This has been made sufficiently clearby the account now given o f the pragmatic v iew o f truth.The second is that Absolute Idealism is a ‘ monistic ’

view o f real ity, which fails to do justice to the detailedfacts o f our experience, and especially to the facts o f themoral l ife and the indiv idual freedom o f initiative whichthese facts imply. As against such an interpretation o f

real ity as a block-universe,’ the Pragmatists maintain the

necessity o f adopting a plural istic view.

3 Such a pluralistic reaction against idealistic Monism is not, o f course,peculiar to the pragmatists ; but what distinguishes thepragmatic assertion o f this v iew is the ethical interest whichis i ts primary source

,as we see from such a characteristic

utterance as the following from James’s essay on ‘ TheDilemma o f Determin ism

,

’ first published in 1 884.

‘ The

1 Pragmatism, p . 58.

1 Principles of Psychology , i. 482 .

3 Cf. James , A Pluralistic Un iverse

CONCLUSION 367

Indeterm in ism I defend,the free-will theory o f popular

Sense based on the judgment o f regret gives us apluralistic

,restless universe

,in which no single point o f

v iew can ever take in the whole scene ; and to a mindpossessed o f the love o f unity at any cost, i t will, no doubt,remain forever inacceptable. But while I freelyadmit that the plural ism and the restlessness are repugnant and irrational in a certain way

,I find that every

alternative to them is irrational in a deeper way. Theindeterm in ism offends only the native absolutism o f

my intellect,—an absolutism which

,after all

,perhaps

,

deserves to be snubbed and kept in check. But thedeterm in ism violates my sense o f moral reality /thro ugh and through .

’ 1

1 The Will to Believe, pp. 176—7.

INDEX

ABBOTT , E. A., quo ted, 46

Adamso n , R., 360 , quo ted, 1 2

Agno sticism, 7, 305Albee , E., quo ted, 294Americ

gn and English philoso phy,

35Arno ld, Matthew, quo ted, 207Associatio nism, 208

BACON, FRANC IS , character, ao ;

statesmanship, 23 ; as judge ,25 ; relatio n to the Renais

sance , 27 attitude to Aris to tle ,29 ; inductio n , 31 methods o f

inductio n , 40 ; inter retatio n

versus anticipatio n 0 nature ,

35 ; ido ls , 35 ; fo rms. 37 ; in

fluence o n English philo sophy48 ; knowledge o f God, 49ethical views , 51 , 55 ; style ,

52 ; Essay s , 53 New Atlantis ,

55Baco n , Roger, 1 1

Bain, Alexander, Mill o n , 278

S pencer o n , 2 78; physio logicaland genetic method, 279 ; lawso f asso ciatio n , 279 ; co ntribu

tions to psycho logy, 280 ; belief, 280 ; external wo rld, 281

ethical theo ry, 282

Beattie , James , 236Bentham ,

Jeremy, as so cialrefo rmer,

24 1 principle o f utility, 241

end and mo tive , 242 sanc

tio ns , 242 hedo nistic calculus ,242

Berkeley, Geo rge , style , 1 23 theo

logical interest, 1 25 ; imma

terialism , 1 25 co nstructive

philo so phy, 1 26 ; his new

CAIRD , EDWARD , 343Caird, John, 345Calderwo od, Henry, 308

idealism,1 26 ; and Locke ,

1 28 ; abstract ideas , 130 ;matter, 1 32 ; materialism , 133;causatio n ,

134 ; theo ry o fvisio n ,

1 34 ; no tio ns , 137 ; spiritualsubstance, 137 spin tual cause ,1 39 ; Alcaohron , 141 ; virtue ,142 ; passive o bedience , 143 ;S iris , 1 43

Bo sanquet, Bernard, 359Bradley, F. H. style , 349 ; attitude

to Hegel, 351 ; thought and

reality, 350 ; appearan ce and

reality, 350 ; experience , 352 ;the Abso lute , 352 , 354 degrees

o f truth and reality, 352 ;criterion o f reality , 353; the

individual, 353 ; nature and

Spirit, 353; truth and reality,

354 ; transcendence and immanence , 355 ; spirit and

reality, 356 ; differences from

Green , 356 ; perso nality ofGod,356 ; go odness , 356 ; immortality, 357 ; referred to , 360

Bridges , J . H. , quo ted, 13rown , Thomas , 313Butler, Jo seph, style, 189 ; bene

vo lence , 198, 200 intuitionism,

1 98 ; self-love, 1 99 , 200 , 203 ;

conscience , 20 1 o b ligation,20 1 ; desire , 203; virtue and

happiness , 203 pro bability,204; experience, 205 ; knowledge and practice,Analogy , 207

37°

69 ; commonwealth defined,70 ; so vereignty , 72 ; the S tate ,73 Church and S tate , 73 ;defects o f po litical theory, 74 ;style , 76

Hodgso n , Shadworth, 361Hfifl

'

ding, H ., quo ted, 240 , 263

Hooker, Richard, 1 17Howiso n , G. H . , 360 n .

Hume , David, wo rks , 149 ; style ,149 ; logic o f empiricism , 150

nominalism , 151 psycho logicalmethod, 151 ; knowledge and

experience, 1 52 pro b lem o f

cause , 1 53 relatio n o f Treatise

and Enquiries , 1 55 ; impressio ns and ideas, 1 57 ; impressio ns o f sensatio n and reflexio n ,

158 ; ideas o f memory andimagination , 1 59 ; asso ciatio n

o f ideas , 159 ; philo sophicalrelations o f ideas , 1 59 , 162 ;relatio ns o f ideas and matters

o f fact, 160 ; the causal in

ference,

160 ; material sub

stance , 164 ; spiritual sub

stance , 166 perso nal identity ,167 ; scepticism , 168 ; mathe

maties , 1 72 ideas o f spaceand time , 173 ; the passions ,174 necessity and liberty , 1 75ethical theo ry, 175 the passionsand self-love , 1 78 benevo lence

and virtue , 179 ; o b ligatio n ,

180 ; philo so phy o f religio n ,180 Natural History of Re

ligion , 181 ; Theism, 181 , 184 ;Miracles , 182 ; pro vidence ,182 D ialogues on Natural

Religion , 183 argument fromdesign , 185 ; goodness o rbenevo lence o fGod, 186

Hutcheso n , Francis , style, 189 ;mo ral sense , 195 benevo lence,1 96 ; self-love, 196

Hutto n , R. H . , quo ted, 31 2

Huxley , T . H. , agno sticism, 307 ;

quo ted, 183

JACOBI , 325James , William, psycho logy, 359 ;pragmatism , 363

INDEXKANT , compared with English

philo sophers, 8

LAMB, CHARLES , quo ted, 190Latitudinarians, 80Laurie, H. , quo ted,

2 16

Lindsay, T. M" quo ted, 14k e, John , and Baco n, 9 2 , 93;andHobbes , 92 ;andDescartes ,

93; epistemo logy, 94 ; knowledge and practice , 95 innate

ideas , 95‘ idea

’defined, 96 ;

plan o f E ssay , 96 ; limits o f

inquiry , 97 ; experience , 98 ;ideas o f sensatio n and te

flexio n, 1 00 ; primary andsecondary qualities , 100 ; ma

terial sub stance , 10 1 particulat sub stance , 1 0 2 ; nominaland real essence , 103 s iritual

sub stance , 103; idea 0 cause

or power, 104 idea o finfinity ,1 04 ; knowledge, its nature

anddegrees , 1 05, 1 29 , 133, 135;knowledge o fourown existence,105 ; knowledge o f the exist

ence o f God, 106 ; knowledgeo f the existence o f external

things , 106 ; no‘science o f

bodies ,’109 ; no science o f

Spirits , 1 1 1 ;generalknowledge ,1 1 1 mathematical knowledge ,1 1 1 ; ethics , 1 1 2 , 1 16 ; pro

hability , 1 1 2 judgment,’ 1 13;faith and reaso n , 1 14 ;

‘en

thusiasm,

’1 14 po liticalo bliga

tio n , 1 1 6 so cial contract, 1 17to leratio n , 1 18 ; Church andS tate , 1 18 ; style , 1 19 ; andagno sticism , 307

M ‘COSH , J. , 236

MacCunn , J. , quo ted, 249Mackinto sh, Sir James , quo ted,

189 , 1 90 , 209 , 222 , 223Mandeville, Bernhard de, 188Mansel, H . L. , andHamilto n , 303

o n mo rality, 304 on the se lf,305

Martineau, ]ames , and Fraser, 309andHamilto nandMansel, 310and Priestley, 31 I freedom,

INDEX

31 1 ; ethical theory, 31 2 ;style , 31 2 ; quo ted, 249

Masso n , David, quo ted, 77Mill, James , as so ciatio n , 243 ;

nominalism, 244 ; b elief, 244 ;the self, 245 ; J . S . Mill o n ,

246

Mill, John S tuart, o n b elief, 244 ;the self, 245, 273 ; his reco n

ciling project, 247 ; on Benthamand Co leridge , 248, 320 ; his

inco nsistencies , 248 ; crisis ,251 essay o n Bentham , 252 ;do ctrine o f quality in pleasures ,255 co nscience, 255 self

sacrifice , 256 principle o f

utility, 257 desire , 257lib erty , 258 ; in tuitio nism and

empm cism , 26 1 , 271 tran

scendentalism , 262 ; Logic,263 scientific method, 263account o f causatio n , 265 ;the syllogism ,

267 mathemati

cal knowledge , 269 etho logy ,270 ; Examination ofHamilton ,

271 theo ry o f external wo rld,

273 Essay s on Religion , 274 ;nature , 274 utility o f religio n ,

275; religio n o fHumanity, 275supernaturalism, 275 ; po etry ,276 theism , 276 First Cause ,276 argument from design ,

276 ; omnipo tence and go od

ness , 275, 277 immortality ,

2 77 ; miracles , 277 imagi

natio n,277 Christianity , 278

M o o re , G. E. , 362

Mo rley , Lo rd, quo ted, 48, 248

NEWMAN , J . H ., o n Co leridge, 327;style , 328 assent, 328 no tional

and real, 328 certitude , 329logic and reality, 329 ; natureOf pro o f, 330 ; the I llative

S ense , 330

Nicho l, John , quo ted, 22 , 37, 48,

49NominalIsm , 6 , 1 5

OCKHAM , William o f, 1 1 , I4Oswald

,James , 236

371

PALEY . THOMAS , and Gay, 2 1 7 ;and Tucker, 2 17 ; style, 22 2 ;argument from design ,

virtue and o b ligation ,

happiness , 255 ,

‘

generalrules,’

225° probation ,

2 26

Pattison , A . S eth Pringle 360 n .

Pattiso n , Mark, quo ted, 203Peirce, C . S ., 363Perso nal idealism, 360Pluralism, 366Pragmatism , 363Price , Richard, and Butler, 227 ;

and Hume , 227 and Locke,227 understanding and imagi

natio n , 2 27 ; understandingand reaso ning, 228 ; Commo nS ense, 228

° ideas o f right andwro ng, 2 28 ; o bligatio n , 228 ;reason and actio n , 229

°

and

Kant, 229 self-interest, 229Psycho logical method o f English

philo so phy , 4 ; Ferrier o n ,

Psycho logy, the new,

’

358

REALI SMJ Scholastic,"15 ; new,

’

362

Reid, Thomas , philo sophy o f

Commo n Sense ,’

230 , 232 ;the ‘ ideal theo ry,

’

230 ; and

Hume , 230 ;‘simple appre

hensio n ,’231 , udgment, 232

°

‘ judgments o fJ

nature’

‘natural suggestions ,

’232

and Priestley , 233 ; Kant o n ,

233°

compared with Kant,235 ; defects , 236

Rémusat, Charles de . quo ted, 1 2Robertson, G. Croom, quo ted, 2 ,

Rousseau, 75Royce , Jo siah, 359Russell, Bertrand, 362

SCH ILLER , F. C. S . 363, 365S cho lasticism , 3, 5,Science , its influence on English

philo so hy , 2 359Sco ttish p ilo sophy, Reid the

founder o f,0

227, 230 inFrance , 236 in America, 236

· prefac e the aim o f this volume is to trace the chief stages in the development o f e n glish...

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