?*+■ ,*" . ,^ ^. o > **o« :^ " •> • aP as if to signalise its absurdity ? ridicules it in all its details, until his criticism rivals in the minuteness of its anatomy, the celebrated curse which Dr. Slop, at the request of Mr. Shandy, read aloud, to the so great horror of my uncle Toby. "We have heard (says he) that an eminent judge of the last generation was in the habit of jocosely propounding after dinner a theory, that the cause of the prevalence PREFACE. XVII of Jacobinism was the practice of bearing three names- He quoted on the one side Charles James Fox, Rich- ard Brinsley Sheridan, John Home Tooke, John Phil- pot Curran, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Theobald Wolfe Tone : These were instantiae convenientes. He then proceeded to cite instances absentiae in proxime: — William Pitt, John Scott, William Wyndham, Sam- uel Horseley, Henry Dundas, Edmund Burke. He might have gone on to instances secundum magis et minus. The practice of giving children three names, is more common in America than England. In Eng- land we have a King and a House of Lords, but the Americans are republicans. The rejectiones are ob- vious. Burke and Theobald Wolfe Tone were both Irishmen ; therefore the being an Irishman, is not the cause of Jacobinism. Horsely and Home Tooke were both Clergymen ; therefore the being a clergyman, is not the cause of Jacobinism. Fox and Wyndham were both educated at Oxford; and therefore the being educa- ted at Oxford, is not the cause of Jacobinism. Pitt and Home Tooke were both educated at Cambridge ; therefore the being educated at Cambridge is not the cause of Jacobinism. In this way our inductive phi- losopher arrives at what Bacon calls the vintage, and pronounces that the having three names is the cause of Jacobinism." ^Here is an induction corresponding with Bacon's analysis, and ending in a monstrous absurdity. In what, then does this induction differ from the induc- tion which leads us to the conclusion that the presence of the sun is the cause of our having more light by day than night ! The difference evidently is not in the ii* XVIII PREFACE. kind of instances, but in the number of instances; that is to say, the difference is not in that part of the pro- cess for which Bacon has given precise rules, but in a circumstance, for which no precise rule can possibly be given.'' Now we join issue with Mr. Macaulay and say that it is the kind of instances as well as the number of instances which constitutes the difference between the two cases which he puts. For if the in- stances of the three names had been as numerous as the whole Jacobin party, though it would have been a marvellous coincidence, yet no man in his senses would have believed that the bearing three names was the cause of the prevalence of Jacobinism ; and simply because, the instances are not of the kind from which an inductive inference can be drawn : they being the mere coincidence of chance, and not kindred facts con- joined by a law of nature. It is true that if every Ja- cobin had borne three names, it might have been in- ferred that there was some cause for such a conjunction of facts—that their parents, perhaps, from some com- mon motive gave their children three names, just as the old Puritans from a common motive, gave their children ivhole verses of scripture for names. But un- der no circumstances whatever could it be inferred that the bearing three names was the cause of the pre- valence of Jacobinism. The fact that the presence of the sun is the cause of more light by day than night is a fact in nature, and is supported as every fact in nature always is, by innumerable analogies. But is the naming children a fact in nature — a work of the Crea- tor? Is the bearing three names and the being a Ja- cobin, a relation established by the Creator of the uni- PREFACE. XIX verse? Is there any analogy in nature from which it can be inferred that the one is the cause of the other? Certainly none. It might as well be supposed that the wearing pantaloons is the cause of one person's being a man, and the wearing petticoats, the cause of another person's being a woman, as that the bearing three names is the cause of one's being a Jacobin. This then is the difference between the two kinds of instances, and "the circumstance far which a pre- cise rule can be given :" the one is the constant connection between two facts in nature, the other, the casual coincidence of two facts totally irrele- vant, and dependent on the acts of man. Their differ- ence is perceived intuitively, and therefore cannot be made plainer by illustration. Our remarks in the dis- course, on analogy, appear to us, to throw light upon the subject. Mr. Macaulay after exhausting his weapons of ridi- cule, becomes very serious, and says " that the differ- ence between a sound and unsound induction, or to use the Baconian philosophy, between the interpreta- tion of nature and the anticipation of nature, does not lie in this — that the interpreter of nature goes through the process analysed in the second book of the Novum Organon and the anticipator through a different pro- cess. They both perform the same process. But the anticipator performs it foolishly or carelessly ; the in- terpreter performs it with patience, attention and saga- city, and judgement. Now precepts can do little to- vards making men patient and attentive, and still less owards making them sagacious and judicious." Now hese sober remarks of Mr Macaulay are not entitled to XX PREFACE. one tittle more respect as exhibitions of truth than those which we have been examining. Precepts of no use ! Why ; are not precept and example the only guide of man? and is not the whole force of exam- ple in its being the expression of a precept? The mere general precept which lies at the foundation of the Baconian philosophy, //ta£ we should scrutinise with caution the phenomena of nature, before ive draw our inferences, has revolutionised philosophy ; and yet it is gravely asserted, by one of the most brilliant writ- ers, and adroit critics of the age, that precepts are use- less in philosophical investigations, and in every thing else. We readily admit, that as long as induc- tion is confined, to ascertaining what article of diet has made a man sick, or whether one side of a horse can move without the other, precepts are of very lit- tle use. But then, it must be remembered, that in- duction "resembles the tent which the fairy Paribanou gave to Prince Ahmed. Fold it, and it seemed a toy for the hand of a lady. Spread it, and the armies of powerful Sultans might repose beneath its shade.*' When it is the toy for the hand of a lady, we may use it without the aid of precepts, but when it is spread out so that the armies of powerful sultans may repose beneath its shade, we cannot manage it by our unaioS ed strength. Having thus, in the first chapter of the second part of the discourse, considered the Baconian method of investigation, in the second chapter, we consider the theory of mind assumed in that method. We show, there never has been, and that there never can be, more than two theories of mind ,• and these two theories are PREFACE. XXI the theory of innate idea?, and the theory that all our knowledge is founded ultimately in experience. We show that the theory of innate ideas is the theory as- sumed in the a priori method of investigation; and that the theory that all our knowledge is founded ultimate- ly in experience, is that assumed in the Baconian method of investigation. It is shown that Plato was the leading philosopher amongst the ancients and Des Cartes amongst the moderns, who maintained the the- ory of innate ideas ; and that both these philosophers maintained the a priori method of investigation. It is next shown that Bacon had a distinct view of the theo- ry of mind that all our knowledge is founded ultimate- ly in experience; and that this is the theory of mind which has-been developed by Locke and Reid. We show that Locke solved the great fundamental problem of this theory of mind, and showed that all our knowl- edge originates in sensation and < onsciousness. And that Reid established this theory still more firmly by developing the great psychological laws which lie at the foundation of this theory, and which govern human belief in the knowledge derived through these original sources of information. He developed the law which governs our belief in the testimony of sensation, and the law which governs our belief in the testimony of consciousness. He also developed the law which gov- erns our belief in the testimony of memory, and the law which governs our belief, that the future will be like the past, and that like causes will produce like ef- fects. This last is the fundamental law of induction. And thus we trace up the Baconian method of investi- gation through the theory of mind which it assumes? XXII PREFACE. ia every step of knowledge until we traGe the pro- cess up to the very first impressions made upon the sen- ses, and we show the psychological law for every act of the mind in the process. We have therefore in the two chapters of this part of the discourse, exhibited an outline of a complete system of logic in the largest sense of the term; and furnished in it a touchstone of philosophical criticism by which the reasonings of all philosophies may be tested. In the third part of the discourse, we apply the se- cond part by way of philosophical criticism, to Lord Brougham's Discourse of Natural Theology, and Hume's Essay on a special Providence and a future State. We show that Lord Brougham in the very outset commits a logical blunder, which vitiates much of his subsequent reasonings. And that he does not solve the problem which he has proposed to himself: but that he always dodges it, or passes it over, by a mere assertion. We show that this results from his overlooking some of the logical and psychological prin- ciples which, we have developed in the second part of our discourse. We then show how, by an applica- tion of these principles, the problem which Lord Brougham has pioposed to himself can be solved. We next show that ihe great doctrine of Lord Brougham's discourse, that Natural Theology is a branch of the in* ductive or Baconian philosophy, and is founded on the same sort of evidence as that philosophy, had been distinctly advanced by Bacon, and set forth with the most accurate discrimination ; and from the fact that "Brougham comments in his discourse upon this portion of Bacon's writings, we are at a loss to determine PRFACE. XXlti whether he could have misunderstood Bacon, or whether he wished to pervert Bacon's doctrine, in or- der that he mignt have the credit of having first shown the true place of Natural Theology amongst the sci- ences. After having examined Lord Brougham's discourse, we proceed to examine Hume's Essay on a Special Providence and a future State ; and we show by an application of the psychological and logical principles developed by us in the second part of the discourse, that the whole fallacy of Hume's doctrine consists in his confounding an intelligent Creator with a mere physical cause. And we show that this is the clue by which the sophistical labyrinths of his argument are to be traced. As soon as the distinction between an intelligent Creator and a mere physical cause is appli- ed to Hume's reasonings, his whole argument point after point, falls to the ground, as if touched by the wand of a talisman ; and we feel astonished that the essay should, by the apparent strength of its fortresses, have so long kept off the attacks of natural theologians; and should at this day be considered so formidable as to lead Lord Brougham to remark that, " we may the rather conclude that it is not very easily answered, be- cause in fact it has rarely if ever been encountered by writers on theological subjects." And it is remarkable that no writer on natural theology, as well as we can recollect, has shown the importance (in our reasonings on natural theology) of the distinction between an in- telligent Creator and a mere physical cause, and yet it is the confounding of so obvious a distinction that has caused the chief difficulty on this subject. We XXIV PHEFACE. have shown that with this distinction there is no rliffi* culty whatever in maintaining on the principles of the inductive philosophy, the truth of natural theology t but that without this distinction, natural theology must fail. We have then, in the first part of the discourse shown the nature of the Baconian philosophy ; in the second part we have shown the Baconian method of investigation, and the theory of mind assumed in that method; and in the third part we have shown how, by the application of the logical and psychological prin- ciples developed in the second part, it may be used as a touchstone of philosophical criticism. And all we ask of the reader is, that he will not read one part of the discourse without reading the whole ; as the dis- course is arranged in a sort of perspective, so that every part casts light upon the others, and it is impossible to see the full import of either part, without reading them all. ERRATA. Page 7 in the 13th line, for "discoveries," read "discovery." " 29 in the 5th line, for "id" read "in." " 29 in the 9th li.ie, tor "psylosophy" read "philosophy," " 84 leave out one entire sentence commencing on the 17th line and ending on the 23rd. " US in first line, for "this" read "the." " 130 in 10th line, for "process" read "processes." " 178 in 17th line, for "style" read "sty." PART THE FIRST. INFLUENCE OF THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. In every age of the world, since the human family has been so numerous as to be divided into separate communities, some one nation has exerted a predomi- nant influence over the rest. This appears to be the economy of civilization. The Grecian Republics, (for they all were but one nation,) and Rome, in their suc- cessive order in history, have, of all the nations of an" tiquity, exerted the most important influence on the destinies of man. Rut, in modern times a new order of civilization has arisen; and for more than two cen- turies, England has stood at the head of this new or- der of things. Enthroned upon the riches of a uni- versal commerce, enlightened by the knowledge of ev- ery science, armed with the power, and accomplished with the embellishments of every art — baptized into the spirit of Christianity, she is influencing and con- trolling the destinies of the human race towards a glo- rious consummation. In the progress of this civilization, there have been three great revolutions, the religious, the philosophical, and the political. After the human mind had thrown oS" the coercive authority of the Romish Church, the 1 & THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY moral authority of the ancient philosophers still re- mained! and what Luther did in the emancipation of the mind from the first, Bacon did in the emancipation of the mind from the last. Luther burnt the Pope's bull in 1520, and Bacon published his Novum Organ- on in 1620. The religious revolution* therefore, pre- ceded the philosophical, and both of these,, the politi- cal. Not, however, that these revolutions did not move on simultaneously; but, that in their progress, they were in advance of each other, in the order which we have indicated. Though they grew together they differed in maturity. Their crises were successive. Perhaps, the divine wisdom is displayed in this order of things — perhaps any other order is impossible in the moral econ- omy of the world: it being necessary that the restraint* upon man, should be thrown off, not all at once, but •eparately, as he advances in mental and moral improve- ment. These then, are the movements, which Europe has made in civilization. She has thrown off religious despotism, she has thrown off philosophical despotism^ Bhe has thrown off political despotism. And she ha» advanced to this position, through many a bloody ag- ony. The treasures of the industry of ages have been •pent, the chivalry of thousands of heroes, the studies by day and by night of scholars and philosophers, the genius of poets exhibiting in their compositions those actions which ennoble the soul, the patriotic and hu- mane sentiments of orators clothed in the thunders of impassioned dietion— all these have been spent in pur- chasing the civilization of modern Europe. It become* then, an important inquiry to ascertain the character ot the philosophy of that people, into whose keeping, THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. • to far as human agency is concerned, the destinies of Europe appear, in the progress of history, to have been confided by divine providence. We will, therefore, pass over the religious and poliL. ical revolutions, and even the literature of modern times, and confine ourselves entirely to the philosophi- cal revolution which originated in England, and which is exerting so important an influence over the destiniei of man, through the agency of that great people. We propose, then, to sketch the rise and progress of the most wonderful philosophical revolution, and the most glorious in its results upon the pursuits and hap- piness of man, of any within the whole history of the world. We propose to give some account of the phi- losophy of utility — the philosophy of lightning rods, of steam engines, safety lamps, spinning jennies and cotton jins — the philosophy which has covered the barren hills and the sterile rocks in verdure, and the deserts with fertility — which has clothed the naked, fed the hungry, and healed the sick — the philosophj of peace, which is converting the sword into the pru- ning hook, and the spear into the ploughshare. This i» the philosophy of which we propose to give some ac- count. It was Lord Bacon, who launched the human mind upon this new career of discovery. He is the great reformer, who stands at the head of the teachers of thig philosophy. Physical nature seemed perfectly impen- etrable to the acutest intellects of the ancients. They ■could not get over even the threshold of physical sci- ence. Indeed, they cannot be said to have had any natural philosophy at all 5 so absurd were all their doc- 4 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. trines about physical nature. Neither did the philo- sophers of the mid die ages, with all their assiduity, suc- ceed in exploring this field of knowledge. And, though the discoveries of Copernicus, Kepler, Galileo and Tycho Bralie show that Providence was preparing the way for a new era in physical science, and even the dis- coveries of Roger Bacon in the thirteenth century in- dicate the same fact, yet it remained for Lord Bacon to generalize the idea which philosophers were begin- ning to see obscurely and in single instances, and to re- veal to the philosophical world, what it had been pre- pared to comprehend: — That true philosophy must be connected with the arts, that while it satisfies the high- est faculties of the speculative intellect it may be ap" plied to the physical wants, and the general well-being of man. That living as we do in a world where gen- eral and permanent laws obtain, and under their do- minion, it is the object of natural philosophy to ascer- tain these laws, in order that we may not, in our en- deavours to promote our comforts, act against these laws, and thus attempt impossibilities; and also, that ^ c these laws are not only invincible opponents, but irre- sistible auxiliaries." Bacon wished to make every power of nature work for man, the winds, the waters^ gravity, heat and all the mighty energies, which lie like the fabled giants of old under the mountains. These, he wished to unloose from their fetters, and bring as servants under the dominion of man. Such are the grand conceptions which Bacon proclaimed tothe world. Scarcely had Bacon published his writings before they were republished upon the continent of Europe. The treatise De Augmentis was republished in France in THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 5 1624, the year after its appearance in England; and it was translated into French in 1632. Editions were al- so published in Holland in 1645, 1652 and 1662. The Novum Organon was thrice printed in Holland, in 1645, 1650 and 1660; and men of every cast in the higher walks of life on the continent of Europe were conversant with his writings. Gassendi, Des Cartes Richelieu, Voiture, and at a later period Leibnitz, Bc- erhave and Puffendorf were loud in his praise. In- deed, his fame spread beyond the bounds of his own country, more rapidly than that of any philosopher within the whole history of letters, "What an impulse, then, must the philosophy of Bacon have given direct- ly and indirectly to the progress of the human mind upon the continent of Europe! for its advances there> have been made by pursuing the Baconian method of investigation. But let us see the progress of his phi- losophy in England, and cite some examples of the lead- ing discoveries which have been made by the Anglo- Saxon race. Not long after the death of Lord Bacon, in 1626, the Royal Society of London was established for the pro- motion of the sciences, and all England resounded with his praise. The philosophers of England almost adored his genius. They felt that he had a true En- glish mind. That he was the father of English philo- sophy. That the English mind had at last given to it a method of philosophizing suited to its practical and common sense turn. And, behold the results w r ritten upon the glorious records of English philosophy ! In every department of physical science, England has made the leading discoveries; and other nations^ 1* '6 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. though their scientific labours have been so brilliant, have done little more than extend her researches and verify her theories. In physiology, the two greatest discoveries were made by philosophers of the British isle. Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood, and published his treatise Exercitatio de motu cordis, as early as 1628. He was the cotemporary and inti- mate friend of Bacon. Sir Charles Bell discovered that there are two distinct sets of nerves, those of sensa- tion and those of motion. And it is worthy of remark that both these great discoveries, so important to medi- cal science, were discovered by considerations founded upon the evidence of final causes. Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood, by reflecting on the use of those valves in the veins whose structure is such as to prevent the reflux of the blood towards the extre- mities. And Sir Charles Bell tells us in a note to his Bridgewater treatise on the hand, that the views taken of the nervous system in the chapter of that work on "Sensibility and Touch," where the uses and endowments of the different nerves are considered, guided him in his original experiments by which he established the great doctrine, that there are two sets of nerves prevading the whole animal system. Modern medicine also may be said to have arisen in England. Sydenham, who had maturely studied Bacon's writings, laid the foundation of the science of medicine by point- ing out, both by precept and example, the true method of observing the symptoms of disease, and of applying curative means according to the natural indications. Since his time, medicine has, by the aid of its auxilia- ry sciences, made rapid progress: but still his works THB BAC0NIA1C PHILOSOPHY. 7 arc of much value, even yet, on account of their pro- found general views. And John Hunter may be said to have originated the sciences of comparative anatomy and physiology, by bringing experiment into the study of these branches of knowledge, thereby showing how to lay open the great mysteries of the human organi- zation. Surgical and medical pathology, which before his time were entirely conjectural, assumed from his principles a more positive character. In chemistry too, the greatest discoveries have been made in Eng- land. The laws of chemical combination, which are of so much practical as well as scientific utility, and are perhaps the most important discoveries in physics, except the law of gravity, were discovered by Dalton. The composition of water, the knowledge of which is an element in so many chemical reasonings as to render it one of the most prolific of chemical discoveries, was discovered by Watt, and confirmed or verified by Cavendish, who burnt oxygen and hydrogen in a dry glass vessel, when a quantity of pure water was genera- ted equal in weight to that of the gases which had disappeared in the formation of the water. The doc- trine of latent heat, which is so important a chemical truth, as to be the salient point of many chemical dis- coveries, was discovered by Dr. Black of Edinburgh. The discovery of the metallic bases of the alkalies and earths was made by Sir H. Davy, who contrived an apparatus to collect and condense the galvanic electri- city, and thereby applying this powerful agent in chem- ical analysis. The first inductive generalisation ever made in electricity, was made by Grey and Wheeler of England, who discovered that some substances are con- 8; THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. ductors and others non-conductors. And the great truth that the lightning of Heaven is identical with electri- city was discovered by one speaking the English as his vernacular language. Franklin, by the beautifully simple apparatus of a kite having a key attached to the lower end of a hempen cord, and being insulated by means of a silken thread, by which it was fastened to a post, demonstrated that the electric fluid and light- ning are identical. The kite was/aised, while a heavy cloud was passing over, and after some time, the loose fibres of the hempen cord began to bristle. Franklin touched the key with his knuckle, and the electric spark was received, and thereby the identity of elec- tricity and lightning was verified. The fundamental truth of optics was also discovered in England. New- ton discovered that a beam of light, as emitted from the sun, consists of seven rays of different colours possess- ing different degrees of refrangibility. This great dis- covery was made by darkening a room and boring a hole in the window shutter, and letting a convenient quantity of the sun's light pass through a prism. The light was so refracted by its passage through the prism, as to exhibit all the different colours on the wall, form- ing an image about five times as long as it was broad; instead of forming a circular image, according to the received laws of refraction at that time, and of a white colour, according to the nature of light as then under- stood. In order to ascertain the true causes of the elongation and colours of the image, New r ton then placed a board with a small hole in it, behind the face of the prism and close to it, so that he could transmit through the hole any one of the colours, and keep back THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 9 all the rest. For example, he first let the red light pass through and fall on the wall. He then placed an- other board, with a hole in it, near the wall where the red ray fell, so as to let it pass through the hole in the second board, and then he placed a prism behind this board, and let the red light pass through it near the wall. He then turned round the first prism so as to let all the colours pass in succession through these two holes, and he marked their places on the wall, and he saw by their places, that the red rays were less refracted by the se- cond prism, than the orange; the orange, less than the yellow, and so on, all being less refracted than the vio- let. From this experiment, Newton drew the grand conclusion that light is not homogeneous, but is com- posed of rays of different colours and of different de- grees of refrangibility. But the greatest of all human discoveries, the universality of the law of gravity, the foundation of physical astronomy, was discovered in England. Copernicus had discovered the motion of the earth on its axis around the sun; Kepler, that this motion around the sun, is in an elliptical orbit, with the sun in one. of its foci; and that an imaginary line drawn from the planet in its revolution, to the sun, describes equal areas in equal times; and that the square of the time that the planet takes in moving around the sun is equal to the cube of its distance from that body. This is the starting point where the discoveries of the English be- gin. It remained to inquire into the causes of these general facts which had been discovered by Copernicus and Kepler. In the year 1686, Newton, while sitting alone in his garden and reflecting upon the nature of gravity which 10 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. causes all bodies to descend towards the centre of the earth, considering that this power suffers no sensible diminution at the greatest distances from the centre of the earth to which we can reach, being as great on the summits of the highest mountains as at the bottom o! the deepest mines, conjectured that perhaps it exten- ded further than was commonly supposed. He there- fore began to consider what would be its effects if it extended to the moon. That the motion of the moon was affected by this power, he conceived to be beyond a doubt; and further reflection led him to suppose that this body might by this power be held in its orbit around the earth. For, though gravity suffered no sen- ilble diminution at the comparatively small distance* from the centre of the earth to which we can go, yet be thought it highly probable, that it was greatly dimin- ished at the distance of the moon, and that it therefor* did not cause that body to tali to the earth. And he inferred, that if the moon be held in its orbit by the principle of gravity that the planets also must be held in their orbits by the same power, and that by com- paring the periods of the different planets with their distances from the sun, he might ascertain in what pro- portion the power by which they were held in their orbits decreased. By this process he arrived at the conclusion that it decreased in the duplicate propor- tion, or as the square of their distances from the sun. In order then to test the truth of the conclusion, that the law of the force by which the planets are drawn to the sun was that it decreased as the square of their distances from that luminary, he endavored to ascertain if such a force emanating from the earth and directed THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 11 to the moon was sufficient to retain her in her orbits- To do this, it was necessary to compare the space through which heavy bodies fall in a given time to a given distance from the centre of the earth, viz: to its surface, with the space through which the moon, as it were, falls to the earth in the same time, while revolv- ing in a circular orbit; for in all his reasonings, he sup- posed the planets to move in orbits perfectly circular* At the time Newton made this calculation, he adopted the common estimate of the diameter of the earth, as then used by geographers and navigators, which was er- roneous. Therefore his conclusions were erroneous alsOo Some years afterwards, the discovery that a projectile would move in an elliptical orbit, when acted upon bj a force varying in the inverse ratio of the square of the distance, led Newton to demonstrate that a planet acted upon by an attractive force varying inversely as the square of the distances, will describe an elliptical orbit in one of whose foci the attractive force resides* Bat though Newton had thus established an hypothesii which explained the elliptical orbits of the planets, and this hypothesis was founded upon an induction of facts made by Kepler, and demonstrated by the application of mathematics by himself, yet an indispensable con- dition of the induction had not been fulfilled. He had not yet obtained any evidence that a force varying in^ versely as the square of the distance, did actually re- side in the sun and planets; because his calculations for testing this, founded upon a comparison of the space through which heavy bodies fall in a second of time to a given distance from the centre of the earth, with the space through which the moon, as it were, falls to 12 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. the earth, in a second of time while revolving in a circular orbit, assumed an erroneous estimate of the diameter of the earth, as we have shown, and conse- quently did not test what it was intended to verify; but showed that the force which retains the moon in its orbit as deducted from the force which causes the fall of heavy bodies to the earth; is as one-sixth greater than that which is actually indicated in her circular orbit. — But M. Picard having in 1679 executed the measure- ment of a degree of the meridian, Newton afterwards deduced from it the true diameter of the earth, and trying his former calculation, he realized his expecta- tions; and found that the force of gravity which regu- lates the fall of bodies at the earth's surface, when diminished as the square of the distance of the moon from the earth, to be nearly equal to the centrifugal force of the moon as deduced from her observed distance and velocity; and he thus fulfilled the fundamental condition of the inductive method of investigation, of always ascribing a cause known to exist, to explain an effect. By this course of reasoning Newton connected the physics of the earth with the physics of the heavens, and established the universality of the law of gravita- tion. What more delightful employment can the specula- tive philosopher have than the contemplation of the grand discoveries which we have been considering! — To one who loves truth for its own sake, and feels de- light in the mere contemplation of harmonious and mutually dependent truths, the knowledge of such great truths are of sufficient value to repay him for the labour of discovery, even if they did not admit of any Ttt£ BACOKIAN PHILOSOPHY. 13 practical application. To know what it is that paints the beautiful colours of the rainbow, and covers the hills and valleys in green, and gives the delicate tints to the flowers which illuminate the fields; to know that the scathing lightnings which rush with such tre- mendous fury from the vast magazines of the heavens, is the same with the spark rubbed from the cat's back; to know that the water which we drink and which appears so simple, is composed of two gases, one of which is more combustible than gunpowder, and pro- duces instant death when inhaled, and the other is the supporter of combustion^ though the two united is the chief agent by which we extinguish fire*, to know that the planets of such vast magnitude, and moving with such velocity through such boundless space are held in their orbits by the same force which causes an apple to fall to the ground; to know the times of eclipses and the returns of comets dashing with a velocity quicker than thought over millions of miles of space and re- turning with unerring certainty to the goal whence they set out: and all other wonders which natural philosophy reveals, must forever, as mere matters of intellectual contemplation, be considered as inestimable treasures. And the mere process of investigation according to the Baconian method, is one of the noblest and most de- lightful employments. The philosopher at almost every stage of his progress, is meeting with hints of greater things still undiscovered, which cheers the mind amidst its toil, with the hope of making still further progress; and new fields of discovery are continually opening in prospect and the light of his present discove- ries throwing enough of their rays across the darkness 2 14 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. before him, to reveal as much of other new truths as will stimulate him to continued exertion for their discovery: thus curiosity is ever kept alive, and exhaust- ed energies renovated in the laborious pursuits of knowledge. How utterly insignificant as mere matters of intellec- tual contemplation, is all the physical philosophy of the ancients in comparison with these magnificent discove- ries in the different sciences! And what can form a more striking contrast than the sublime argumentation of Newton and the petty sophistry of the philosophers of the middle age! What are the eloquent reveries of Plato and the ingenious reasoning of Aristotle in comparison with the mighty mensuration by which Newton beginning with the dust on the balance mea- sures the earth, and rising in the sublime argument measures planet after planet and weighing them,balances one against the other, and not content with holding as it were, worlds in the hollow of his hands, he measures and weighs systems of worlds; and his mighty calculus still not exhausted, he balances system of worlds against system of worlds, and embraces in his argument the infinitude of the universe, until the words of the sacred poet, "he weighed the mountains in the scales and the hills in a balance," intended to describe the omnipotence of the deity, fall short in describing the power of one of his creatures. The wisdom of the Academy and the Lyceum have been overshadowed by the glory of Cambridge, and Greece yields to England in philosophical renown! \. We see then, that as a mere matter of intellectual contemplation to satisfy the speculative mind, the Ba- THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 15 conian philosophy is preeminently sublime. We will now show that it is also eminently practical; and in this particular, it differs from all the philosophy of the ancients, who thought that the only use of philosophy, was in its influence upon the mind in elevating it above the concerns of life, and thus purifying and preparing it for the philosophical beatitude of their 'heaven, into which none, but philosophers were to enter; and that the practical affairs of life belonged to those of common endowments who are fated by destiny to be mere ''hewers of stone and drawers of water.'' But far different is the spirit of the Baconian philosophy. Humbling itself before Christianity, it acknowledges it to be a revelation from heaven, pointing out the same way to future bliss, for the peasant and the philoso- pher, and that it only, has the power "to deliver man from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the sons of God;" and that though philosophy enlar- ges and elevates the mind and affords us unspeakable intellectual pleasure, yet that its chief office is to pro- mote the general well-being of man in this life, by connecting the sciences with the arts, and arming them with a power which mere empiricism can never attain. It is then the great excellence of the Baconian philosophy, that even those of its discoveries which have contributed most to the satisfaction of the specu- lative intellect and are apparently the most remote from everything like practical application to the com- forts of man, have frequently been applied to the most useful purposes of life. The discovery of the nature of light by Newton, at once led him to attempt a practi- cal application of it; and though nothing of importance 16 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. resulted from his labours, yet Hall and afterwards Dolland constructed achromatic telescopes, which could never have been done, if the fact of the different re- frangibility of the different rays of light had not been known; and this discovery, was thus applied to the arts in accordance with the utilitarian spirit of the Baconi- an philosophy. Scarcely had Franklin discovered the nature of lightning, before he Constructed an apparatus to protect our buildings on land and our ships on the sea from the ravages of the electric fluid. And thus by a discovery apparently so remote from all practical utili- ty he disarmed the spirit of the storm of his thunders, and thereby showed to the world that knowledge is power. But the most fruitful practical applications have been made of chemjstrv ? Jt has been applied to agriculture, to medicine, and to the mechanical arts. — By analyzing the nature of soils and applying the principles thereby ascertained, to the improvements of agriculture, it has made the most sterile waste so fertile, as to yield all the various fruits of the earth in the richest abundance. Where not a blade of grass grew, now the most abundant harvests gladden the sight, as they spread out in ocean waves over the fields where chemistry has shed its fertilizing dews. And by its magic power, chemistry has released the various medi- cal agents which lie embedded in the innumerable ve- getable and mineral products of nature, and handed them over to the healing art, to aid the vital powers in throwing off from the body the many diseases which prey upon man. And its application to the mechanic arts, has bestowed the richest blessings upon man. — Sir H. Davy applied its principles in the construction THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 17 of the safety lamp; by which man is enabled to walk with comparative safety in the bottoms of dark mines, with a light, amidst a gas more explosive than gunpow- der, where, without this lamp, the miner is frequently exposed to as much danger as though he were walking in a magazine of powder with a lighted torch; and thus thousands of lives and millions of money are saved by this one application of science to art. But the crown- ing invention of all, the one which constitutes the chief glory of science in its application to art, is the steam- engine. A profound chemical knowledge applied by the most exquisite mechanical skill, enabled James Watt to bring the steam-engine, which had been invented by Savery and Newcomen, to a degree of perfection which renders it the most valuable of all inventions of art. It brings under the control of man, an agent more potent than a hundred giants, swifter than the Arabian horse, and capable of assuming more forms in mechanism, than a Proteus, so as to apply itself to all kinds of work. It can pull a hundred wagons as easily as one — perform one kind of labour as easily as another. It is on the ocean, it is on the rivers, it is on the mountains, it is in the valleys, it is at the bottom of mines, it is in shops, it is every where at w r ork. It propels the ship, it rows the boat, it cuts, it pumps, it hammers, it cards, it spins, it weaves, it washes, it cooks, it prints, and releases man of nearly all bodily toil. This mighty agent is revolutionizing the world — annihilating time and space by its speed, and bringing the most remote parts of the earth togeth- er. And all this mighty power is gained by a scientific knowledge of the nature of the atmosphere which we 2* 18 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY* breathe, and the water which we drink and applying this knowledge to mechanism, so as to make these so familiar objects work for man. Here let us pause, and reflect upon the benefits conferred on England by the Baconian philosophy. — It has made her the greatest nation in the world. — It has done more to develop her wealth than all the legislation of all the statesmen who have adorned her history by their financial skill. It has given her hun- dreds of bushels of wheat, thousands of yards of cloths, and bestowed innumerable comforts, where without its instrumentality, there would have been but one. It has enabled her to extend her commerce over the whole earth, and bring into her treasury countless milli- ons of wealth. And this commerce is the source of her great power, both in war and peace, and is the means by which she is controling the destinies of the world. And though her whole policy is to extend her commerce by cultivating the arts of peace, yet it is true, that she sometimes (and we abhor the wickedness of it) pushes her commerce by the thunders of her cannon into regions where ignorance forbids its en- trance; but the people who are thus treated, will in time learn, that it is equally for their benefit, with that of England, that her trade is extended to their shores, and they will feel that peace is the true policy of the world, and that all men are mutually interested in each other's welfare and should live like members of one family. The commercial spirit of England is also the power which pioneers the way for the other great influ- ences which she is exerting upon the civilization of the world. Her sciences, her arts and her literature THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 19 are carried on the wings of her commerce over the whole earth. And the Christian religion is soon found smoothing the thorny pillow of the dying man, and pouring the balm of consolation over his drooping spirit, in every clime where British commerce has placed her foot. But the Baconian philosophy is not confined to phys- ical nature, as has been often asserted. It embraces all knowledge. Bacon expressly says that his meth- od of investigation is intended to be applied to all the sciences. '-Some may raise this question (says he) rather than objection, whether we talk of perfecting natural philosophy alone according to our method, or the other sciences also, such as logic, ethics, politics. We certainly intend to comprehend them all. And as common logic, which regulates matters by syllo- gisms, is applied not only to natural, but also to every other science, so our inductive method likewise com- prehends them all." And in his advancement of learn- ing, where he defines the boundaries of the different sciences, he has devoted as much attention to the in- tellectual and moral sciences as to the physical. But it is nevertheless true, that his labours were directed chiefly towards physical science, because, in this, there was the greater necessity for exertion; as it was prin- cipally through ignorance of this part of knowledge, that man was delayed in his career of civilization. — And many, from the fact that Bacon has said so much about physical nature, misconceiving the scope and spir- it of his philosophy, have asserted that it is confined to sense, and is utilitarian, in the gross meaning of avarice, and that it necessarily leads to a selfish moral philosophy. 20 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY^ It has happened to Bacon, as to other philosophers, who have originated a new movement of the human mind, that the errors of many of his successors who claimed, and many who did not claim to be his disci- ples, have been charged to his philosophy, as its legit- imate fruits. The doctrines of Hobbs, and Hume, and Hartly, and others in England, and of Condillac, and Helvetius and D'Holbach and the host of infidels and atheists in France, have been again and again pro- claimed as the legitimate and necessary deductions from the principles of the Baconian philosophy. The doctrines of the philosophers just mentioned, resulted from these philosophers seizing upon some one only of the great principles of the Baconian philosophy, and carrying it out to the wildest extremes, without modi- fying it by the other principles of the system, and are, therefore, at most, nothing more than the errors which necessarily result in the development of the Baconian philosophy, and are not a part of that philosophy, but merely the exuviae thrown off from it as it passes through the process of development. Cicero, in his De Oratore, has remarked the very same thing of So- < rates which we are now remarking of Bacon. "For, as they all,' says he, "arose from Socrates, whose discour- ses were so various, different, and universally diffused, that each learned somewhat that was different from the other; hence families, as it were, of philosophers were propagated, widely differing among themselves and vastly unconnected with, and unlike one another; yet all of them affected to be called, and thought them- selves the disciples of Socrates. For, in the first place, Aristotle and Xenocrates were the immediate scholars THfe BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 21 of Plato; the one of which was the founder of the Peripatetics, the other of the Academics. Then from Antisthenes, who admired chiefly the patience and ab- stemiousness of Socrates in his discourses, arose first the Cynics and then the Stoics. Next fromAristippus, who was charmed with the sensual part of Socrates? discourses, the sect of the Cyrenians flowed, whose doctrines, he and his successors maintained without any disguise of sentiment. There were also other sects of philosophers, who generally professed them- selves to be the followers of Socrates." We see then, that all the different sects of philosophers, who suc- ceeded Socrates, the morose and abstemious Stoic, and the gay and voluptuous Cyrenian, all claimed to be the true disciples of Socrates ? and that Cicero says that their errors resulted from their seizing upon one principle only of the philosophy of Socrates, and losing sight of the other principles. The Stoics seized upon patience and abstemiousness, and the Cyrenians upon sensual enjoyments, both of which, when modified by the other, are Correct principles, but when carried to extremes , each is Wrong, and will lead to false moral philosophy. Having thus indicated the source of the error which we are combating, we will now show that it is an error. The position that the Baconian philosophy leads to a selfish morality, is maintained by many on the ground that the Baconian philosophy admits but one source of ideas, viz: sensation. The argument is, that within the sphere of sensation, there is no idea of right and wrong — that pleasure and pain are the only ideas fur- nished by sensation to denote the moral qualities of hu- man actions, and that we approve of some acts, be- 22 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY- cause they give pleasure, and disapprove of others, be- cause they give pain; and that, therefore, according to this theory of the mind, utility is virtue, and self- interest the ground of moral obligation. But we shall show in the 2nd chap, of the second part of this dis- course that the Baconian philosophy admits two sour- ces of ideas, viz: sensation and consciousness; and there- fore this argument falls to the ground; because the ideas of right and wrong are developed in consciousness and it is in consciousness, that the Baconian philosophy lays the foundations of morality, and not in sensation. According to the Baconian philosophy, we must ex- amine all the facts of man's moral constitution, and es- tablish the fundamental truths of moral philosophy by psychological observation. Rejecting all innate mor= al principles or notions, it appeals to experience, to both the light of nature and revelation. It therefore leaves man perfectly free to examine all the facts of his moral constitution, and to establish whatever sys- tem of morals, a sound induction may warrant, whether the selfish or the disinterested system. When then, we look into the heart of man, Ave there find certain instinctive affections, such as love, hope, fear, anger, pity and many others which are all certainly disinter- ested in their nature; as they seek their respective ob- jects, by natural impulse or sympathy, without the mind's thinking of anything beyond, whether their sa- tisfaction or disappointment will be agreeable or disa- greeable. We also find in the mind, the power to dis- tinguish moral good and evil. It is upon these attri- butes of our spiritual nature, that the Baconian philo- sophy founds morality. But let us inquire into these THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 23 facts further, and ascertain the relation in which the affections stand, to the power in the mind to distinguish good and evil, or in other words ascertain the connec- tion between the feelings and the intellect. If a beau- tiful object be presented to the mind either through sense, memory or imagination, and occupies its atten- tion exclusively, the emotion of love, is by a great psychological law, necessarily excited in the mind, and will continue until the object is removed or for- gotten, or some other object is presented in its stead. For it is a law of our mental constitution, that every emotion whether of love or hatred is allied to some ob- ject of perception or memory or imagination, and is dependent upon it, as its antecedent or cause, and the emotion never can be excited in the mind except by its appropriate object being in the view of the mind, and never can cease to exist in the mind until the object is forgotten or removed from its view. Just as the mind sees, so the heart feels. It is thus manifest that con- siderations of self have no agency in producing our emotions whether of love or resentment, in the natural operations of the mind, and consequently the great law of the affections on which morality is based, is disin- terested, operates uninfluenced by considerations of self. But this connection between the perceptions and the affections shows that the correctness of our moral philosophy will depend upon the enlightenment of our intellect and the purity of our affections. That good- ness is goodness is hard to be perceived by the great- est minds, if the moral feelings are corrupt. This is a truth written in blood upon the pages of history. But whenever the mind perceives goodness or moral beau- 24 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. ty, the heart is necessitated by the great law of the affections just indicated, to feel the emotion proper to it, of love, and when it sees vice or moral ugliness, to feel the emotion proper to it, of aversion, and this with- out any considerations of self mingling in it. We see then by this analytical induction, that the principle of morality is disinterested; because the Creator by the great law of the affections has made it imperative on us to love virtue for its own nature, and to hate vice for its own nature, having made it natural for the mind to love virtue and hate vice by creating the relations of love and hatred between them. But as man is not under a law of necessity like mere brute matter and incapable of change, the obliquity of his mind may become such as to render him unable to see the love- liness of virtue, which is the same as not seeing vir- tue at all, for loveliness is its very essence, just as the eye may be so diseased as in jaundice, as to render him unable to see the real colours of objects, and the sin- fulness of his own heart will cast its hue over virtue, just as the jaundice of the eye will cast its hue over the objects of vision, and neither the loveliness of the one nor the colours of the other can be perceived.-^- The truth is, the perception and the emotion consti- tute the state the mind is in, when any object is pres- ent in thought, and they cannot be separated. They are not distinct acts of the mind, but are the elements which make up the act of apprehension or spiritual discernment. And it was from the fact, that Helvetius did not discern the truth, that perception and emotion are both elements of spiritual discernment, and dwelt too exclusively upon the phenomena of emotion, that THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 25 he fell into the error that all mental acts are nothing but feeling — that to think and to judge are but to feel; and that Diderot in criticising this obvious error of Helvetius, fell into the opposite one, and maintained in his essay on the origin and nature of the beautiful, that the perception of beauty by the mind is a matter of reason alone, like the perception of the truth that two and two make four. We see then, that according to the psychological facts which the Baconian philoso- phy points out as the foundation ot morality, that its principle is disinterested. Man does certainly feel the moral rightness of truth and justice, without any view at the time to their consequences, just as he feels an appetite for food without any view to its utility upon the animal economy — the one feeling terminates in virtue for its own sake and the other on food for its own sake. But God in his great benevolence has so organized the system of things, as to make that which is right, useful in such a vast majority of instances, as to induce us in cases where it is doubtful what is right, to use the relative utilities of the acts as the standard of their rightness, and it has indeed induced some to maintain that utility is the essence of right. But some contend that the Baconian philosophy leads to a selfish morality, in a different mode from that which we have just examined. That it tends to cor- rupt the moral feelings by infusing into them, the spirit of selfishness, in directing so much inquiry into the developement of the resources of physical nature; and thus making man to think continually about his physi- cal comforts, and to place too much value upon the riches of this world. That the Baconian philosophy 3 £6 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY has done more than all other philosophies put together^ to develop the resources of physical nature, and there- by to multiply the physical comforts of man, we have already shown; and so far from shunning this result, or wishing to conceal it, it has been the main purpose of this part of our discourse, to exhibit the fact in all its amplitude, and to proclaim it as the chief glory of the philosophy which we expound. If such a result makes man selfish, then is the destitution of barbarism, better fitted to produce a sound morality than the wealth of civilization. Then is man, clothed in skins, possessed of more generous sympathies, than when clothed in the comfortable fabrics of cultivated art; and his heart contracts to a narrower selfishness, when he accumulates wealth by millions, than when he saves it by miteso If these be true propositions, then, have we entirely misread human history. The fallacy of these conclusions, shows the falsity of the premises from which they are deduced. And it is evident, that the whole tendency of the Baconian philosophy is to elevate the condition of man. It enables him -to sup- ply his physical wants by a small portion of labour, and to devote his consequent leisure to the cultivation of science and art. And it dignifies and ennobles the employments which are devoted to the promotion of our physical comforts, by connecting them with the sciences. Under its influence, mechanics are no longer mere handicraftsmen, but are men of science, posses- sed of enlarged views of human advancement. — - "Watt and Fulton occupy the highest places amongst the benefactors of mankind; and are quite as fit to join that divine assembly of spirits, where Cicero, 1THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 27 in his De Senectute, rejoices that he shall meet Cato, as either of those sages of antiquity. But let us throw aside all speculation, and look to facts. Where is the nation that can boast a literature pervaded by a loftier morality than England? It is true that some of her writers maintain the selfish sys- tem of morals, and some the disinterested. But this has been the case at every era of philosophical devel- opement, in every nation of the civilized world. In morals, as in every thing else, men often bewilder themselves in the minuteness of analysis. Those who maintain the system of disinterested morals differ as to the basis of morals. One class referring our moral ideas to a special faculty, termed the moral sense,others to reason, and others to both the reason and the sensibility. And those who maintain the selfish system differ widely, also as to the basis of their prin- ciple. This is inseparable from the nature of the subject, for it is not purely a philosophical subject: but derives more of its light from revelation than from nature; and therefore, in attempting to ascertain the philosophical foundation of moral obligation, we shall often find our line too short to reach the bottom. The difficulties are inherent in the subject; and they have been more nearly overcome by the English than any other people. And not only is the literature which has grown up under the influence of the Baconian philosophy pervaded by a lofty morality, but the peo- ple who have drunk most copiously at its fountains, and whose mental habits and moral principles have been formed under its influence, are distinguished by their disinterested benevolence. They dispense milli- 29 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. ons annually in charities at home; and their benevolent societies are healing the sick, clothing the naked, and feeding the hungry, and instructing the ignorant in every clime of the earth. In examining this question, we must distinguish the commercial spirit of England, from her spirit of phi- lanthrophy. While the first toils by day and by night to accumulate wealth, the latter toils by day and by night to expend it in alleviating the sufferings of the afflicted of all nations, and kindreds, and tongues. — How superficial and ignorant then, is the opinion so often expressed, that the Baconian philosophy leads to a selfish morality! We have shown the contrary, both by philosophical analysis and historical fact, which are the only two modes of proof of which any subject is susceptible. The same class of thinkers who maintain that the Baconian philosophy is purely sensual, a mere pander to our animal comforts, maintain also, that it has no ideal, but is utterly inconsistent with all the arts of beauty. That its main object is to make money plenty in men's pockets; and that the spirit and style of its kindred poetry is exemplified in the following couplet: "A penny sav'd is tvvo-penee clear, A pin a day 's a groat a year," Let us examine the truth of this charge. The Ba- conian philosophy, as we shall show in the second chapter of the second part of this discourse, recogni- ses consciousness as fully as it does sensation, as a source of ideas, and^consequently just as fully embra- ces within its scope, the world of mind with all its subjective realities, as it does the world of matter with THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY 29 ail its objective realities. It takes therefore in its view, all the phenomena of the spiritual world, as well as of the material, and all the adaptations between these different worlds, from which the true theory of the sublime and beautiful id art, can be educed. And it teaches a grander and a nobler, because a truer style of literature, than any piylosophy which has been the source of culture to any people known to history. It takes nature for its model — the archetype which God has made, — and repudiates all that is speculative in taste, as it does all that is speculative in reasoning. — And the true theory of taste, is to imitate nature, not it is true, by a servile copy, but by exalting her — by making her beauty more beautiful, and her sublimity, more sublime — but still by letting the beauty and sublimity, be the beauty and sublimity of nature, merely exalted. For the human heart was formed to suit the natural, and the natural was formed to suit the human heart, to call forth all its powers. Some things, by a great pathological law are agreeable to the human heart, and others, disagreeable. Some things naturally excite the feelings of sublimity, and others, the feel- ings of beauty. These things are formed respectively by the Creator for the very purpose. It is an adapta- tion of the external world, to the spiritual constitution of man. The province then, of the science of taste, is to ascertain, what those things are, and the distin- guishing property which constitutes them, in both the material and spiritual worlds, which naturally? and of their own original adaptation, excite the emotion of the beautiful or the sublime, or any other emotion, which it is the object of art to call forth. For some 3* 30 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. things will excite these emotions by association, and not of their own nature; and consequently are not so well calculated to produce these emotions, as the things from which they have derived this power by associa- tion; and in fact cannot excite these emotions at all, in minds in which, they have not been associated, with the things from which they have derived this adven- titious power.' Truth or conformity to nature, then 3 is the great standard of taste. For there is a true in taste, a true in morals, as well as a true in matter; and all of them are to be ascertained by inductive obser- vation, and not by speculative conjecture. Surely then, the literature which springs up as an offshoot of that philosophy which directs all our observations to nature, and admits no criterions whether in science or art, but the natural, is most likely to approach nearest to nature in its representations of the sublime and the beautiful and all that affects the human heart. And did the speculations of the philosophers of ancient times and of the middle ages ever present such sublime and such beautiful visions before the fancy, as the Ba- conian philosophy has spread out in the vast perspec- tive of modern discoveries? The truth is, the views of nature as presented in these discoveries have a grace and a grandeur, a beauty and a sublimity far above all the visions of fancy that ever lay in the enchanting walks of speculation or poetry. Induction has in fact evolved higher standards of sublimity and beauty, than the imagination ever bodied forth in its most rapturous visions of the ideal. How then, can the Baconian philosophy lead to a mean literature, when it familiarises the mind to the most sublime and THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 31 beautiful objects of contemplation? It must have the opposite effect. It must give a loftier ideal to the ora- tor and the poet than the mere speculative philosophies ever furnished. And no writer has presented a more exalted estimate of poetry, and delineated its high behests with more accuracy than Bacon himself. "The use of poesy (says he in the advancement of learning, hath been to give some shadow of satisfaction to the mind of man in those points wherein the nature ot things doth deny it, the world being in proportion infe- rior to the soul: by reason whereof there is agreeable to the spirit of man a more ample greatness, a more exact goodness, and a more absolute variety than can be found in the nature of things. Therefore, because the acts or events of true history have not that magni- tude which satisfieth the mind of man, poesy feigneth acts and events greater and more heroical: because true history propoundeth the successes and issues of actions not so agreeable to the merits of virtue and vice, therefore poesy feigns them more just in retribution, and more according to revealed providence: because true history representeth actions and events more ordi- nary and less interchanged, therefore poesy endueth them with more rareness and more unexpected and alternative variations: so as it appeareth that poesy serveth and conferreth to magnanimity, morality and delectation. And therefore it was ever thought to have some participation of divineness, because it doth raise and erect the mind by submitting the shows of things to the desires of the mind; whereas reason doth buckle and bow the mind unto the nature of things." This admirable delineation of the objects and nature 32 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY* of poetry, sounds doubtless, in the ears of those whose opinions we are examining, more like the language of Homer or Dante or Milton discanting on their divine art, than like the language of the father of the expe- rimental philosophy. The truth is, the mighty and various and finely-fashioned mind of Bacon is as little understood by this class of thinkers as the spirit and Fcope of his philosophy. His mind was a mirror held up to nature, which reflected it, in all its vastness and all its minuteness, all its sublimity and all its beauty: revealing as much from the spiritual world as from the material— from the dark abysses of the human heart, as from the hidden depths of matter. The chief ground, on which, the opinion that the Baconian philosophy leads to a mean literature, appears to rest, as far as any thing definite can be gathered from the loose and vague generality of the language in which it is usually expressed, is that this philosophy directs the mind so exclusively to considerations of utility, that it renders it incapable of appreciating the beautiful. This is a singularly erroneous view of the matter. ffl For it is not immediate considerations of utility which prompts the Baconian philosopher to his inquiries. But it is the love of truth — the delight of viewing new truths evolved in ever varying forms of beauty from the multifarious facts which beset the path of investigation — the felt triumph of the march over the difficulties of science, as the enquirer steps from altitude to altitude on the before untrodden steeps of investigation, until he reaches a summit, from whence he can descry the goodly classifications and the harmonies of principle evolving themselves from THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 3$ the chaos of facts which lie spread out in such bound- less profusion over the vast regions of the universe. These are the considerations which prompt the Baco- nian philosopher to his inquiries. And after he has discovered some new principle, then it is, that in ac- cordance with the spirit of his philosophy, he enters upon consideratious of utility in its applications to the relief of human wants. The Baconian philosophy, though considerations of utility embrace so much of its aim, and constitute so much of its glory, does not reject the beautiful, but embraces both it and the use- ful in perfect harmony, within the universality of its doctrines. And though the physical sciences to which this philosophy has directed so much attention, are emphatically the sciences of utility, still their study, as the opinion which we are examining presupposes, does not necessarily lead the mind off from the study of the beautiful, or blunt its relish for objects of taste. The relation between the different branches of knowl- edge is much more intimate than this supposition as- sumes. Such is this intimacy, that the physical sci- ence, which of all others, appears to the superficial observer, to be the most remote from any affinity to the arts of beauty, has been applied to two of these arts with the most felicitous success. Sir Charles Bell has applied his discoveries in the nervous system to the arts of painting and sculpture. Having discovered that, besides the two great systems of nerves of sensa- tion and motion, other nerves went to the mus- cles and moved them, and that these arose from a tract of the spine separate from either of the two columns originating the other nerves, and that they went chief- 34 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. ly to those muscles which subserve the purposes of res- piration; and that as the function of respiration in man was not designed for the sole purpose of vitalising the blood in the lungs, but also, for communicating the thoughts and passions of his soul, he had the genius to perceive^ that the nerves regulating respiration, must be the nerves of expression and emotion. He there- fore under the impulse of a most exalted genius for the arts of beauty, developed this grand idea, and wrote his celebrated work, the "Philosophy of Expression," and in this way applied his discoveries of the nerves of respiration to teaching the painter and the sculp- tor, a knowledge by which he may imitate and under- stand and correctly depict the evervarying play of hu* man passion. And thus a man who spent his life in dis- secting the bodies of his fellow men and of the infe- rior animals, could pass out of this butcherly employ- ment, as those whose opinions we are examining would esteem it, and teach us how to breathe life and feeling into the canvass and the marble. And Bell himself was one of the finest painters of his day — was no less skilful with the pencil of the painter, than with the knife of the Surgeon. Though, after the battle of Waterloo, he went to the scene of slaughter and spent days and nights amidst the dead and dying, sleeping only one hour and a half out of the twenty four, for the purpose of perfecting himself in military surgery, yet at a later period of his life, we find him making a pilgrimage to Rome, to view in that imperial city the noble remains of ancient art, to enable him to put the finishing touch upon his "Philosophy of Expression/' See then! how extraordinary and mysterious, is the THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 35 connection between utility and beauty, between the anatomy of the nervous system and the arts of painting and sculpture. The same discoveries are applied to the arts of utility and the arts of beauty, to medicine and to painting and sculpture. But let us illustrate this point a little further. — Geometricians have discovered what is the curve of the greatest resistance or solidity, and have thus estab- lished a fact of the greatest utility in architecture. — Michael Angelo in forming the model of the dome of St. Peter's at Rome, gave it that oval or curve which appeared to his judgement a* an artist, to be the most beautiful as drawn on the given breadth and height. And such is the exquisite beauty of the dome that i^ fills every beholder with admiration. It is said, that a distinguished geometrician M. de la Hire being at Rome, was so struck by the elegance of this structure, that he determined to inquire into the rationale of its impression on the mind; and on examining the geom- etrical properties of the curve of its outline, he found that it was that of the greatest resistance or solidity. — And thus it is ascertained, that in this instance, what is the most solid or useful in art is also the most beau- tiful. And what an extraordinary proof does it furnish of the sublimity of the genius of Michael Angelo for t/.e beautiful in art, that in his attempts to sketch the oval outline of the greatest beauty for the dome, he should by the mere exercise of his judgement as an artist, have hit upon the exact curve with mathemati- cal precision. For the identity of the curve of the greatest beauty with that of the greatest utility could never have been ascertained, except by some sublime 36 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. genius in the felicity of his judgment, ascertaining the first 3 as it were,by an inspired intuition, and then the geometrician by the unerring calculus of his science discovering that what the artist has thus conceived to be the most beautiful oval outline, is the exact mathe- matical curve of the greatest resistance. And this, upon the doctrine of probabilities, amounts almost to a demonstration, that the curves of utility and beauty are the same. But the fact, that utility and beauty are of a very kindred nature, or rather, that the first is often an important ingredient of the last, does not need further illustration. For so frequently are they found conjoined both in art and nature, that some philosophers, though very erroneously, have been led to insist, that utility is the essence of beauty — that beauty consists in the fitness of things or the adaptation of parts; just as some philosophers have been led by a like partial view, to insist that utility is the essence of moral good, from the frequency of the union of the expedient and the right in the moral economy of the world. We can now, from the altitude to which our annaly- sis has carried us take a wide survey of the topic which we are discussing, and see by the light of sci- ence, how ignorant and groveling is that view of the Baconian philosophy, which sees in its vast range nothing but a sordid utility, while, that utility which is consistent with all that is noble in morality and sub- lime and beautiful in art, is the doctrine which it te?xhes, from the first aphorism in the Novum Organ - on, to the end of its last lesson. .But it is useless to dwell longer upon philosophical THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 37 analysis, when we have historical proof that the Ba- conian philosophy is consistent with the arts of beauty, in the noble productions of English literature; For the literature of every nation partakes of the nature of its philosophy, as the very charge which we are consid- ering assumes. Where then is there a nobler litera- ture, than that which has been cultivated in the same soil and by the same people, with the Baconian philo- sophy? Shakspeare, who was the cotemporary and friend of Bacon, and whose productions are so sig- nally marked with the common sense which, arising in the Baconian philosophy, pervades the whole of Eng- lish civilization, stands at the head of the dramatic writers of the world. As though he had borrowed the magic wand of nature herself, he creates all beings with the same ease that she does, and fixes them in their appropriate employments, and plans and executes their different offices, with an exactitude which shows that every act proceeds from its natural motive, and every destiny from a plan of coincidents in exact con- formity to the dispensations of Providence. The most dreadful passions are managed with as easy a conformity to nature, as the most gentle. Murder, with its ferocity and its relenting, its determination and its hesitancy, before it reddens its hands in blood, and its remorse, and its imaginative agony, after it has done the dark deed, is dramatized with as much perfection as if the poet had seen with his eye the naked heart of the murderer throbbing in guilt; And with equal ease, true love is presented in all its artlessness, whispering its affection in words as soft and simple and sweet, as the attic bee ever distilled upon the lips of a Grecian 4 38 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. shepherdess; or else, sitting silent, under the restrain- ing diffidence of a pure heart, "until concealment, like a worm in the bud, feeds upon her damask cheek." — And jealousy, that monster of suspicion, to whom, "trifles light as air, are confirmation strong as proofs of holy writ," is presented in all his odiousness. And avarice standing by his bond, and humour holding both his sides, and every human passion are presented in ideal perfection. The dark, and awful, and mysteri- ous abyss of the human haart is completely fathomed and the poet sees by the light of Christianity, how, fearfully and wonderfully it is made, and paints it, as with a pencil dipped in inspiration. And though Greece had her Homer, England has her Milton; and never since the angels' harps, which hailed the morn of the creation, has a nobler been strung than his. — The angels sang the joys of life, Milton the woes of death. And did a deeper melody, and fuller of the dirgelike sounds of woe, ever flow from the versifica- tion of poetry? Was the great epic of eternal death in all its horrors, ever before made a reality to the living? Catching the sublime pathos of the old poets of Judea, and the fire and finish and copiousness of Greece, and transforming and subordinating all to the type of his own mighty genius, he has made a poem worthy of the great theme of the fall of man. The contrast between paradisaical innocence and happiness and infernal wickedness and misery is presented in terrific reality. Such is the grace and beauty and loveliness of the first woman as she appears to the creative fancy of the poet, that he represents Satan, though with a bosom filled with the malice of hell* THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 39 and intent upon the destruction of man, merely because man was innocent and happy, as captivated for a mo- ment by her charms as he beheld her alone, amidst the rich shrubbery of Eden, enchanting the scene of bliss she moved in. But this exquisite sympathy of the poet for true loveliness, does not, for one moment, lead his judgement astray, so as to make him soften the character of Satan For the unconquerable maligni- ty and insatiable hate of the arch fiend, is depicted in all its dreadful deformity; and the horrors of hell are seen amidst the "darkness visible," in such horrifying import as to show that "there, hope never comes, that comes to all.'* The poet is always master of himself; is never overpowered by the sublimity, nor enchain- ed by the beauty of his conceptions: but with the self- possession of a great artist, he sets forth every thing in its proper position, and in its proper character, and in language so expressive and so suited to every topic, as to place him perhaps at the very head of the great masters of diction. And Butler, in his Hudibras, has given to the world, the great epic of ridicule. With a fancy alive to the ludicrous, he has caught its minutest shades in every action of life, and presented them in an epic poem; and thereby the majestic epic becomes ludicrous. The conceptions of the poem are ludicrous, the language is ludicrous, and even the very rhymes. The poet, it is true, shoots keen shafts at his fellow- men, but they are dipped in the unction of good-natur e , and not in the venom of malice. Such a poem furn- ishes entertainment to one of the most important fa- culties of the human soul, the sense of the ludicrous — which ministers so much to the smiles of home, the 40 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. gaieties of companionship* and by its goodly influences so often sweetens the sourness of our feelings amidst the annoyances and the ills of life, and opens the heart to the frailties of human kind, and makes us sympa- thise with the whole race, rich and poor, learned and ignorant, as we see their extravagancies through the amiable medium of a laughing heart — *and is therefore worthy a place amongst the great works of art. And Robert Burns, with his harp, whose golden touch sent forth tones so soft, and sad and tender, is heard amidst the choir of English poetry, reviving by his natural strains, the youthful freshness of human feeling, and keeping in harmony, those delicately tuned chords of the heart, which in the trials of life are so apt to lose the sweetness of their primitive melody. But, we will notjparticularise further^ for the English muse has sung of every theme in original strains; and has also proved the beauty,and strength, and copiousness and flexibility of the English language by translating into it the master- pieces of antiquity, and showed that the streams are almost as pure in these channels, as in their Grecian and Roman fountains. The prose literature of Eng- land also, is rich in its abundance of matter and excel- lence of style and the wide range of its topics. Her historians are superior to any of modern times, and perhaps equal to those of ancient. Her orators, as suited to the sphere of modern civilization, are equal to any in any period of human history. In profound views of human nature, in far insight into the policy of legislation, and in all the knowledge of statesman- ship, English oratory is far before that of antiquity. — . And in the mere art, English oratory is not easily THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 41 surpassed. In the choice of those topics, both local and general, which lead the intellect and the heart captive; and in the easy and shining fluency of narra- tive, the sparkling ripples of wit, the bold, and head- long and dashing cataracts of declamation, and the full and swelling, and sweeping and overwhelming tide of argument, and the lightning's flash of suddenly pro- voked invective which illuminates the whole flood of speech, and falls mercilessly upon its victim, it may well compare with that of any nation ancient or mod- ern. In criticism also, whether exegetical or purely rhetorical, English literature is highly distinguished. And as a specimen of historical criticism - , there is nothing so ingenious, so original, so masterly, so tri- umphant and so to be marvelled at, as Paley's "Horse Paulinae/ 7 It is a wonder of ingenuity — a miracle of logical acumen. Facts in the epistles of Paul, which separate!} send forth a mere glimmer of light, and which are apparently so unconnected as never to be at all associated in thought, by even careful readers, are selected and brought together in logical order, and the feeble lights of each are so concentrated upon the fact sought after, and the fact is so illuminated in every point, that you can no more doubt of its truth, than you can of the reality of day, when the sun ascends the meridian. In prose fiction too, what literature can compare with the English? Where else, can so unique a group of such masterly productions of their kind be found, as the Pilgrim's Progress of Bunyan, the Robinson Crusoe of De Foe, the Gulliver's Travels of Swift, and the Tristram Shandy of Sterne? And how many thousands of all cultivated nations, have been 4* 4% THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. charmed by the magic writings of Walter Scott! The young and the old, the learned and the ignorant, the wicked and the pious, have all been carried along on the enchanting tide of his narrative as it flowed from its exhaustless fountain, through the ever-varying scenes of an epitomized world, and all have been equal- ly delighted with the wonderful exhibition. Such then, is the literature, laden with so many masculine beauties, which has been cultivated in the same soil and by the same people, with the Baconian philosophy. How erroneous then is the opinion, that the Baconian philosophy has no ideal, but is confined to sense, and leads to a mean literature. While answering the charge just considered, we have admitted that the literature of every nation or epoch partakes of the nature of the philosophy of that nation or epoch; because it is a well-established histo- rical fact, and is in truth, nothing more than the exhi- bition, by a people, of the same bent of mind in litera- ture and philosophy* The common sense of the Baconian philosophy is manifested throughout every department of English literature. The characters in Shakspeare's plays are not mere personified qualities like the persons in an allegory: but are real men and women, such as we meet with in the world, actuated by the same diversity of motives and seeking the same objects. The particular passion sought to be delineated is individualised in some person, and the excellence of the delineation consists in the harmony between the passion though exhibited in all its ideal exaltation, and the character in which it is set forth. For example, jrf^rA^r o*>J a^arir.^ and jea'ousy and humor are not TH£ BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 43 exhibited each in some metaphysical creature, which has no other passion than the one exemplified, but in real characters, which can sympathise with the circum- stances of real life, and are at times under the influ- ence of all the other passions of man, as their various situations call them forth. Murder is exhibited in Macbeth, avarice in Shylock, jealousy in Othello and humour in Falstaft* who are all men full of the common sympathies of humanity. This is the greatest triumph of the dramatic art, to invest the ideal with humanity. It is true that Shakspeare also created such characters as Calaban; but this was merely a wayward freak of his genius. And the same characteristic is exhibited in the writings of Milton. His fiends and angels are not metaphysical abstractions; but are men exalted into superhuman greatness. Though Satan does not appear "less than archangel ruined," still he appears like a wicked man of superhuman powers. And the angels appear such as we may imagine good men may become in a world where all their powers are exalted. This likening of spirits to men, we are well aware has been censured by some critics as a great impropriety, and the Mephistophiles of Goethe, which is a metaphysi- cal incarnation of sin, has been reckoned a finer delin- eation of the spirit of wickedness than the Satan of Milton. But this criticism, we apprehend, is founded in a misconception of the nature of the poetic art, whose province it is to seize upon practical criterions and not upon speculative — to deal with realities, and such things as can be made so much like realities, as to awaken the common sympathies of the human heart, and not with metaphysical abstractions — to be lik© 44 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY;. Shakspeare, and not like Goethe, like Robert Burns, and not like Coleridge. But be this as it may, Milton has certainly taken a common sense view, and not a metaphysical one, of his great theme, and thereby showed the national trait of his mind. And Butler has taken a common sense view of human nature in his great poem. Hudibras, with all his ludicrous fa- naticism and solemn folly, is still a man; and so of every other character, And as to the poetry of Burns, it expresses more of natural feeling, such feeling as all men have, than that of any poet known to history^ and we cannot but consider it a favourable omen of sound taste, that his poems have lately been translated into German, though we must confess that his simple muse must cut rather an awkward figure in the coarse fabric of German diction. But it is useless to dwell upon this topic; for all the late writers upon the history of literature on the continent of Europe, have made special reference to the fact that English literature is pervad- ed by a vein of common sense. The English have even examined the evidences of Christianity according to the principles of the inductive method, or of common sense. Butler in his analogy, has drawn conclusions as to the truth of Christianity from the analogy which exists between it and the course of Providence as ex- hibited in nature; which is as strictly an inductive pro- cess, as any used in the investigation of natural philo- sophy. But there is a still graver charge brought against the Baconian philosophy. It is said to lead to materialism and atheism. DeMaistre, in his commentary on the philosophy of Bacon, says: "Every line of Bacon THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 45 conducts to materialism: but in no part has he shown himself a more skilful sophist, a more refined, pro- found and dangerous hypocrite, that in what he has written on the soul." And Schlegel, in his history of literature, says: "The philosophy of sensation which was unconsciously bequeathed to the world by Bacon, and reduced to the shape of a regular system by Locke? first displayed in France, the true immorality and destructiveness of which it is the parent, and assumed the appearance of a perfect sect of atheism. '' In the second chapter of the second part of this discourse, it will be shown, that the Baconian philosophy recogni- ses the testimony of consciousness, as fully as it does that of sensation. If this be so, how can that philos- ophy lead to materialism? Consciousness tells us that the soul is not material; for we are certainly conscious that its attributes are not those of matter. Sensation informs us of the material world, consciousness informs us of the spiritual world, and we have no right, accor- ding to any rule of evidence or logic, to predicate in the way of philosophical affirmation, any idea deriv- ed from the material world, of the objects of the spirit- ual world; because the ideas of the qualities or attri- butes of spirit, we get from consciousness, and we can- not predicate of spirit, any quality but what is ascer- tained by consciousness; and neither can we predicate ofmatter, any quality but what is ascertained bysen- sation. We have no evidence therefore, that the soul is material; because the knowledge ol its nature is de- rived from a source, from which not one idea relative to matter is derived. The Baconian philosophy, there- fore, admits the same amount of evidence in favour of 46 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHl?. the immateriality of the soul, that the most transcen* dental philosophy does; and therefore rests upon the same foundation in this particular. And so far from the Baconian philosophy being atheistical, Bacon has defined the boundaries, and pointed out the nature of the evidence upon which natural theology rests upon the principles of his phi- losophy, with admirable precision, as will be shown in the third part of this discourse. And no nation has cultivated natural theology with such assiduity and success, as the English. The more the Baconian phi- losophy has been cultivated, the more has natural the- ology advanced. It is in fact the boast of this philo- sophy, that it has revived the study of natural theolo- gy, after it had been abandoned and scouted by the philosophers of the continent of Europe, as an un* profitable study. "It gave a particular pleasure to Sir Isaac Newton," (says Maelaurin in his account of the writings of Newton,) "to see that his philosophy had contributed to promote an attention to final causes, as I have heard him observe, after Des Cartes and others had endeavoured to banish them." And where is the great work of Paley? the two first chapters of which approach as near to the certainty of mathemat- ical demonstration, as it is possible for moral reasoning to do. The evidences of natural theology pass through the achromatic mind of the author, without being dis- coloured by prejudice or passion, and paint upon his pages, their doctrines with all the life and precision of daguerreotype. And yet there never was a mind more thoroughly imbued by the philosophy of sensation, as Schlegel calls it, than Paiey's. And the Bridgewater THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 47 treatises have brought all the discoveries of the Baco- nian philosophy to prove and illustrate natural theo- logy. And Bishop Butler even in his day, considered natural theology as so well established in English phi- losophy, that he assumed its truth as the foundation of his great work on the analogy between natural and revealed religion. So we see that in English philoso* phy, revelation, natural theology and physical science, are united in perfect harmony, proclaiming with one voice that there is a God. Such then is the character of the Baconian or En- glish philosophy: it embraces every thing that is sub- lime in speculation, useful in practice, lofty in moral- ity, beautiful in art, and reverential in religion. We now feel ourselves free to declare, that Bacon has done more to advance the progress of the human mind than any uninspired roan known to history. — There are no writings in the whole of literature, which take so profound a view of human nature, and point out so exalted a destiny for man, as his. With a phi- losophical forecast unparalleled in the world, he has given anticipations of someot the greatest discoveries of modern science. Even the law of gravity is con- jectured, and its application to the explication of the tides of the ocean is distinctly stated. And his phi- losophy possesses within itself the principle of perpet- ual progress; for, it is not like the ancient philoso- phies, confined to speculative principles, from which an explanation of all things is to be deduced, and aa these principles are in time found to be incapable of explaining the phenomena of nature, the ancient phi- losophies all sink into skepticism and become extinct, 48 TIIE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. but it is commensurate with the phenomena of the uni- verse, as it deals with phenomena, and deduces its prin- ciples from them, and not them from its principles. — It is therefore, not like the ancient philosophies, a means of culture and progress for one people or epoch only, exhausting itself upon that people or epoch, but it is the means of culture and progress for all the na- tions and periods of the world. The nations whicli have been most under its influence have risen superior to all the rest of the human family, and have advanced progressively, and their speed is daily accelerated, to a degree of intellectual development, moral superiority, and political power, which seem to indicate that it is destined to form the type of the civilization of a grea- ter part, if not of all the human race. And that this progress is likely to be perpetual, is also indicated by the fact, that England, the nation which has most assiduously cultivated this philosophy stands at the head of modern civilization, and is not only the great progressive and regenerative nation of modern times, but is also eminently conservative, possessing in happy combination the elements of both progress and stability. She never loses sight of ancient landmarks in her pro* gressive movements. How often, for example, has she thrown her conservative influence over the trou- bled waters of European politics, even when the com- motion received its first impulse from the influence of her own principles of government! Scarcely has a quarter of a century elapsed, since she exerted all her power to rescue Cristendom from political and moral ruin, brought about by a revolution with which at first she sympathized strongly. And it seems,at this distance THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 49 of time from the event, that if it had not been for her, all Europe would have retrograded in civilization. — During the awful storm of the French revolution, when almost every government of Europe lay a wreck upon the tremendous tossings of the political waters, a gleam of hope still broke across the scene, as the wise men of the earth turned towards England and saw, that freighted with the best interests of humanity, secure in her strength, she was riding out the storm. We have, therefore, strong reason to hope, that the Baconian philosophy sanctified by the spirit of Christi- anity, will pour its sanative floods over all the earth, and bring back all nations from the delirious wander- ings of the transcendental philosophy, to walk in the plain and sober paths of common sense. 5 PART THE SECOND. CHAPTER 1st. THE BACONIAN METHOD OF INVESTIGATION, The object of this chapter is to exhibit the method of investigation taught by Bacon in the Novum Organ- on. As the best mode of doing this, we will first sketch an outline of the logic taught by Aristotle in his Or- ganon, and show its nature and its province, and then sketch an outline of the method of investigation taught by Bacon in his Novum Organon, and show its nature and its province, and compare the two, and point out their differences. Let us then commence with an analysis of the reasoning process, as it is of this, that the Organon of Aristotle treats. We frequently observe in the best writers upon science, a vagueness and contradiction of expression in regard to the reasoning process, that evince the greatest looseness of opinion in regard to its nature. — We frequently meet with such expressions as "the inductive process of reasoning," "the true method of reasoning, which Bacon taught," "the erroneous method of syllogistic reasoning which Aristotle invented,'' and many other such expressions, which clearly indicate that the writers suppose, that there is more than one mode of reasoning. Nothing can be more erroneous THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 51 than such a supposition. No matter what be the sub* ject upon which the mind is employed, whether in the spiritual or material world — whether in metaphysics, ethics, politics, mathematics, or in the different branches of natural philosophy, the reasoning process is always the same. The process is always from the known, or that which is assumed as known, to the unknown; and is always reducible to a syllogism. The syllogism is in fact the process of reasoning; for though every argument does not pass through the mind in the strict logical form of the syllogism, yet in every instance of reasoning, all the parts of a syllogism are contempla- ted by the mind. Some seem to entertain the notion, that the syllogism'is a peculiar kind ot reasoning — that it is not the natural process of the mind in rea- soning, but is an artificial mode invented by Aristotle. Let us test this notion, by analysing an argument presented in its common form. "The world exhibits marks of design, it therefore has an intelligent author.'' Now the process which takes place in the mind, in forming this argument, is the syllogism; as will be seen, if we attempt to refute the argument. Suppose we deny the truth of the argument, we must do it upon one of two grounds. Either upon the ground, that the world does not exhibit marks of design, or upon the ground, that even if it does, still it may not have an intelligent author. An objection upon either of these grounds is a full denial of the argument. What does this prove? Why, that the argument rests upon two assumptions. First, upon the assumption, that whatever exhibits marks of design has an intelligent author, and, secondly, that the world exhibits marks 52 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY* of design. These two assumptions are evidently the premises from which the conclusion is deduced; for it either of them be false, the conclusion must be false, and if both of them be true, the conclusion must be true. As then both of these assumptions are abso- lutely essential to the truth of the conclusion, the mind must have contemplated them in coming to the conclu- sion; for otherwise it would not be warranted in form- ing any such conclusion. Indeed, it is impossible to form such a conclusion, without considering both of these assumptions; for they are the evidence upon which it rests. Now let us look back over what we have been doing, and we shall see that, in developing the argument, we have formed it into a complete syllogism. As devel- oped, it is thus: "Whatever exhibits marks of design has an intelligent author. The world exhibits marks of design. Therefore, it has an intelligent author.'* This is a complete syllogism. The first sentence is the major premiss; the second, the minor; and the third, is the conclusion. The minor premiss was expressed in the argument as we first stated it: but the major was not. When we denied the truth of the argument, we found, that in order to sustain it, we must adduce other evidence than was expressed; and the other evidence is the major premiss of the syllogism. The mind, then, must have contemplated this major premiss; else, it came to the conclusion upon insufficient evi- dence. In fact, the major premiss is implied in the minor; as it must always be: and therefore, the mind must of necessity have contemplated it. The argu- ment as we first stated it, is the form in which we THE BACOXIAN PHILOSOPHY. 53 generally speak or write our arguments; for we never express all the evidence which pa'sses before the mind in argumentation, but use expressions which imply the truth of what is considered evident. When, there- fore, we wish to analyse and delineate the process which takes place in reasoning, we must consider every step of an argument — take hold of the attenua- ted clew, and pass along all the most winding and intricate passages of the mental labyrinth, and find out what is not usually expressed. If we do this with any argument whatever, and add to it all that is under- stood, it will then be a syllogism, or series of syllogisms. The very argument by which we have endeavoured to establish the point under consideration, may be formed into a series of syllogisms, by merely supplying what, is understood. As we have established the point, that every argu- ment, when stated in full and in logical order, is a syllogism, or a series of syllogisms, we will next ascer- tain what are the acts of the mind, w T hich take place in the syllogism, as we shall thus ascertain what are the. acts of the mind which take place in reasoning. The fundamental principles of the syllogism are; first, if two terms agree with one and the same third term, they agree with each other; secondly, if one term agrees and another disagrees with one and the same third term, these two disagree with each other. On the former of these principles, rests the validity of affirmative conclusions; on the latter, of negative. In the argument above, to prove that the world has an intelligent author, we found out a third term, with which both the subject and predicate of the propcsi* 54 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. on agree, which third term is, "whatever exhibits narks of design." Because if both the subject and the predicate of the proposition agree with this third term, they agree with each other. We see, then, that in every affirmative syllogism there are three agree- ments. The major and minor terms agree with the middle term, and they therefore agree with each other. And that in every negative syllogism, there are two disagreements. Either the major or minor term agrees with the middle term, and the other disagrees with it, and they therefore disagree with each other. Now, how are agreements and disagreements ascertained? — Why, by comparison. The acts of the mind, there- fore, which take place in the syllogism, are a compari- son of two terms, with a third, and if they agree with it, then an inference that they agree with each others and if either of them agrees, and the other disagrees With the third term, then an inference that they disagree with each other. All reasoning, therefore, proceeds by comparison. We have exhibited this point, because we frequently meet with expressions, in the best wri- ters upon logic and metaphysics, and also in the wri- tings of all classes of authors, which imply that all reasoning is not by comparison: and also because we have seen some able writers running to the opposite extreme, and confounding the simple act of compari- son with the reasoning process, which as we have shown, consists of several acts of comparison, and an inference from them. We will now for the purpose of inquiring more mi- nutely into the nature of the reasoning process,take a syl- logism to pieces, and examine its parts, so as to ascertain THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 55 their nature and their mntual relations to each other. The syllogism is composed of three propositions, two of which are the premises, and the other is the conclusion. For example, in the syllogism which we have been using all along, the proposition, "Whatever has marks of design has an intelligent author," is the major premiss; the proposition, "The world, exhib- its marks of design," is the minor premiss; and the proposition, "The world, therefore, has an intelligent author," is the conclusion. It is upon the mutual re- lations existing between these propositions, and upon the mutual relations existing between their respective parts, that all the rules of logic are founded. It is intuitively manifest, that both the minor premiss and the conclusion, are embraced in the major premiss, as parts of a whole. If the major and minor propositions be granted, the conclusion must necessarily follow: indeed the truth of the conclusion is assumed in them. When, therefore, we assert the truth of the major and minor premises, we virtually assert the truth of the conclusion also. We see, then, that in every argu- ment, the conclusion is contained or assumed in the premises, and that the conclusion is not a different truth from the premises, but is one of the truths con- tained or assumed in the major premiss, which is nothing more than a general truth, of which the con- clusion is a particular instance. When, therefore, we draw a conclusion, we do not, strictly speaking, ascer- tain a new truth, but merely develope in a particular instance, a general truth known to us before. The great general principle which governs these mutual relations existing between the premises and conclusion, 56 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. is the fundamental principle of logic, and is called the "Dictum de omni et nullo" of Aristotle. It is this: "Whatever may be predicated (affirmed or denied) universally of any class, may be predicated (affirmed or denied) in like manner of any thing comprehended in that class." The application of this principle to the major premis?, as comprehending the minor and the conclusion* is obvious: for if it can be affirmed universally of the class of things exhibiting marks of design, that they have an intelligent author, it can necessarily be so affirmed of the world, if it be one of the things comprehended in that class. This maxim may be called the formula of demonstration, a general argument, of which every other is a particular instance. And the man who violates it in argumentation, is to the eye of enlightened reason guilty of as gross an absurdity as he who attempts to raise himself over a fence by the straps of his boots. We have now given an outline of the logic taught by Aristotle in his Organon: and will next introduce to our readers the Method of Investigation taught by Bacon in his Novum Organon. From the expressions quoted at the beginning of our analysis of the reasoning process, and from many such that are found in the best writers of every class, one might suppose that Lord Bacon had taught a new mode of reasoning: and that his Novum Organon was designed to supersede altogether the Organon of Aristo- tle. This is an entire misconception of the whole subject. The design of the Novum Organon was not to teach a new mode of reasoning; but to teach a new method of investigation. The Novum Organon THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 57 has, therefore, a very different province from that of the Organon of Aristotle. The province of the latter is to analyse the process of the mind which takes place in reasoning: and to furnish a model to which sound reasoning may be reduced and by which the correctness of every argument may be tested, in its conformity to the model; and to furnish rules relative to the whole matter, as we have shown. But the Logic of Aristotle was supposed by its author and the other Greek philosophers to be an instru- ment of much more importance in the investigation of truth, than it really is, and was therefore applied to the investigation of the sciences, and is called the a priori method of investigation, and it is as a method of investigation, that the Novum Organon is designed to supersede the Organon of Aristotle, as we will now proceed to show. The Greeks were an astute and exceedingly dispu- tatious people, inordinately fond of dialectical disqui- sitions; and it was in this spirit, that the Greek philo- sophers conceived that the reasoning process was the chief process in the investigation ot the sciences, or in other words that, the a priori, was the true method of investigation. And it was at a period in the history of Greece when her philosophers were wholly given up to abstract studies, that Aristotle's Organon had its origin; and it may be considered as a systematical developement of the method of investigation pursued by the Greek philosophers, who carried the a priori method of investigation which had proved successful in mathematical inquiries to which it is adapted, into physical and metaphysical inquiries, supposing that as 58 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. in the mathematics, so in physics and metaphysics? eyery thing can be reasoned out from a few simple notions or principles. And in accordance with this opinion the Greek philosophers were always endeav- ouring to find out these simple principles in nature, which they supposed would be productive of such rich results in science. In psychology, we find some main- taining the doctrine of innate general ideas or principles from which not only all metaphysical but all physical truths also were to be reasoned out; and in physics, we find one making water, another the infinitude of things, a third, air, and at last Aristotle, making form and privation combined with matter, the principles of all things: and though Aristotle did not maintain that these simple notions or principles were an innate knowledge of _ the mind, yet he seemed to think that they might be recognised affirmatively at the first glance of contemplatic/n of an instance furnished through sensation, and that therefore, the chief process in the acquisition of truth, is in deducing conclusions from principles, and not in ascertaining principles.-— And these miserable abstractions were the clews by which the Labyrinths of nature's secret places were to be passed through, and the truths of physics and metaphysics ascertained by reasoning from them. — This misapplication of logic as a method of investiga- tion could not but lead to error. For logic does not guaranty the truth of the premises of an argument, unless they are conclusions from previous arguments, but always proceeds upon the hypothetical truth of the premises. It merely guaranties the truth of the conclu- sion, as an inference from the premises; its' province, THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 59 as we have shown, being to deduce conclusions from admitted premises. Its tendency,therefore, is to make us overlook the truth of the premises; as it furnishes no rule in regard to their truth 3 but merely in regard to the truth of the conclusion as an inference from them. And this is the very evil which it produced. This misapplication of logic as a method of investi- gation, led inevitably to the most absurd theories in physical science imaginable. As an example, we will cite Aristotle's argument in proof of the immutability and incorruptibility of the heavens, as it is exhibited by Galileo. "1st. Mutation is either generation or corruption. "2d. Generation and corruption only happen be- tween contraries. "3d. The motion of contraries is contrary. "4th. The celestial motions are circular. *'5th. Circular motions have no contraries. il Ji. Because there can be but three simple motions. "1st. To a centre. "2d. Round a centre. 4 '3d. From a centre. $ tl B. Of three things, only one can be contrary to one. "G. But a motion to a centre is manifestly the con- trary to a motion from a centre, ( D. Therefore, a motion round a centre (i. e. cir- cular motion) remains without a contrary. "6th. Therefore, celestial motions have no contra- ries; therefore, among celestial things there are no contraries; therefore, the heavens are eternal ? immutable, incorruptible, and so forth." Such is a striking example of both the method and 60 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. the results of the ancient mode of philosophising. In it are exhibited a total disregard of facts and phenomena and a pompous and conceited affectation of system, which admirably illustrates the intellectual pride and vanity of the Greek philosophers, who paid no regard to their premises, as facts founded in nature; but vainly hoped to rear up a system of natural philosophy cor- responding with the indications of nature, merely by deducing conclusions from assumed premises not ascer- tained by observing nature, but purely the fictions of their own imaginations. And to just as gross absurdi- ties were the greek philosophers led in mental philo- sophy, by their disregard of facts and phenomena, as they were in physical. We will cite as an example, the doctrine of sensation, or the mode in which the mind perceives objects as taught in the Peripatetic school. A kind of images, or sensible species as they were called, were supposed to come off from all objects and to pass to our different organs of sense, and were by them admitted to the nerves, and through them conveyed to the brain, where they were impressed as the engraving of a seal on wax, and Were then refined into intellectual species, after the mind fully appre- hended them. We might cite many other examples of like absurdity: but our object is merely to illustrate the point under consideration. The logic and philosophy of Aristotle obtained the greatest favor at Rome under the Ca2sars. At an early period however, in the Christian world, Plato had dis- placed Aristotle, and continued the most generally received philosophy until the close of the fifth century when the influence of Aristotle began to prevail again, THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 61 and though it declined a little during the sixth century at the close of the seventh, it was every where trium- phant throughout the civilized portions of Europe, Asia and Africa. Christians, Jews and Mahometans bowed before his authority. Commentaries, paraphra- ses, summaries and dissertations on his works were composed without number in both Arabic and Latin. His works were appealed to in all disputes as infalli- ble authority: and none dared dissent from the "Great Master.*? During this period, the study of" nature was still more neglected than it had been by the Greeks. Mere abstractions, figments of the mind, usurped the place of even the few facts contained in the Greek philosophy. Men's minds were in a continual ferment about occult qualities and essences — about proportion, degvee, infinity, formality, and innumerable other abstractions; and such w T as the height to which con- troversy ran about these chimeras of the mind, that it often resulted in bloodshed, and well nigh convulsed kingdoms. Every one seemed to think that, "the chief end of man, is to contradict his neighbour, and to wrangle with him forever." The different parties had their rival chiefs decked out in all the titles of phi- losophical heraldry, such, as "the invincible," "the most profound," the "angelical," the ''irrefragible doc- tor, 5 ' to lead them on to the wordy war. And now the most absurd notions were worked up into systems of philosophy. As the great master Aristotle had taught as we have shown, that a uniform circular motion was the only motion consistent with the perfection of the heavenly mechanism, this notion was worked up into* a most unwieldy and complicated theory of astronomy, 6 62 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. exhibiting the sun, moon and planets revolving in cir- cles, whose centres were carried round in other circles, and these again in others,and so on without end — "cycle upon epicycle, orb on orb," throughout the infinitude of space. But a still more absurd astronomical theory was gravely presented to the world in the sixth cen* tury by Cosmas Indopleustes, who maintained, says Maclaurin in his account of Sir Isaac Newton's phi- losophical discoveries, that "the earth was not globu- lar but an immense plane of a greater length than breadth, environed by an unpassable ocean. He placed a huge mountain towards the north, around which the sun and stars performed their diurnal revolutions; and from the conical shape which he ascribed to it, with the oblique motion of the sun, he accounted for the inequality of the days and the variation of the sea- sons. The vault of Heaven leaned upon the earth ex- tended beyond the ocean, being likewise supported by two vast columns: beneath the arch, angels conducted the stars in their various motions. Above it were the celestial waters, and above all he placed the supreme heavens." Such then was the state of knowledge produced by implicity obeying authority, and following the ancient method of philosophising, of endeavouring to deduce systems of philosophy from a few imaginary principles — of misapplying logic as a method of investi- gation. It was during this state of knowledge, though light had begun to break in upon the darkness.that Lord Ba- con was born. While yet a student at Trinity College, Cambridge, he discerned the vagueness and inutility of the existing state of knowledge; and as he advanced in THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 63 age, he saw the more clearly the utter worthlessness of all the reigning speculations of the day; for, there being no connection whatever between them and the arts,they did not minister at all to the comforts of man, or arm him with any power over nature. As this great genius meditated upon the immense growth of pernicious error which had sprung up in every province of knowl- edge, he plainly saw, that it was in a great measure the product of the extensive influence which Aristotle possessed in the schools, diverting the minds of men from the study of nature to the study of his doctrines; and that the authority of Aristotle must be overthrown, before man could be brought back into the true paths of science. For although the discoveries of Coperni- cus, Kepler and Galileo had in some degree broken the magic spell of the enchanter of Stagira, it remained for a genius of a loftier tone to show its delusion and folly by pointing out its nature; and to rouse up the minds of men from slavish obedience to authority, by pouring into them the quickening influences of his own free spirit. All this Bacon designed to accom- plish by his Instauration of the Sciences; and to lead men back into the true paths of science, from which they had so long wandered. The Instauration of the Sciences, was designed by Bacon to consist of six parts: but as he wrote but little ot the third, fourth, fifth and sixth parts, we will say nothing of them. The first part is the Advancement of Learning, in which he sketches out alljhe depart- ments of knowledge and defines their limits; and shows the degree of cultivation in each. In concluding this part of his great work, he says, "thus have I made, as 64 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY, it were, a small globe of the intellectual world as truly, and faithfully as I could discover, with a note and description of those parts, which seem to me not constantly occupate or well converted by the labour of man.' ; " The second part of the Installation of the Sciences, is the Novum Organon, which it is our object now -to illustrate. As, in the Advancement of Learning, Ba- con sketched a map of the sciences; in the Novum Organon, he develops the method by which they are to be investigated. He here proclaims the great truth', and develops it, that the knowledge of the philosopher does not differ in kind but only in degree, from that of the peasant— that the whole of philosophy is founded . on observation, and is nothing more than a classifica- tion of facts and phenomena presented in nature, rising first, from particulars, to classifications of the lowest degree of comprehension , and then from these, to those of a higher degree, and so on, until we arrive at classi- fications of the highest degree comprehending all the subordinate classifications. And that these classifica- tions are the only true general conceptions; as they are the only ones which have any thing corresponding to them in nature; and that the ideas or forms of Plato- and the empirical general conceptions of Aristotle have no counterparts in nature, but are the mere fic- tions of their own imaginations, and therefore are not a proper foundation of science. In a word, he declared that all philosophy is written in the book of nature, the material and spiritual worlds. He set forth this great truth in the very first proposition of the Novum Or- \ ganon.* "Man as the servant and interpreter of nature, THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 65 does and understands as much as his observations on the order of nature, either with regard to things or the mind, permit him, and neither knows, nor is capa- ble of more." The spirit of this philosophy is humili- ty. It teaches that in order to become philosophers truly so called, men must cast off that intellectual pride which vainly strives to find out the secrets of nature by mere reasoning, and become as children, reading in humility the simplest lessons in the book of nature. "The access to the kingdom of man which is founded on the sciences," says Bacon, "resembles that to the kingdom of Heaven, where no admission is conceded except to children.' 5 Noble and sagacious comparison ! With what philosophic forecast does it portray the spirit of true philosophy ! For as those who recognise the doctrine of humility in divine truth, have planted, upon the strongest fortresses of pagan- ism, the white banner of Christianity, with the lonely star of Bethlehem shedding its mild beams from its am- ple folds as it waves over the worshippers of the true God, so those who recognise it in human truth, have pushed their conquests into every province of nature, and even scaled the very Heavens, and planted the standard of the Baconian philosophy upon the remo- test star, demonstrating by their success that the hum- bling precept, "become as little children," is as true in philosophy as in religion. It is obedience to this precept which confers on man all his power over na- ture — gives him access to the kingdom founded on the sciences. The method of investigation, according to this view of philosophy, proposed by Bacon in his Novum Or* show that he means those notions or ideas which are developed in consciousness, and not innate ideas; and it is plain, that by the reports of the senses, he means the ideas acquired through sensation: though we do not assert that Bacon had apprehended with scientific ac- curacy those two different sources of knowledge, but merely that he had a general knowledge of them. It is manifest then, that though Bacon laid great stress upon the knowledge derived through the senses, he did not think that sensation is the only source of knowl- edge, as some of the philosophers of the continent of Europe have ignorantly alleged, but that like Locke and Reid he admitted consciousness to be a distinct and equally important. source of knowledge. We will now proceed to show that the system of psychology, maintained by Bacon, is identical with that of Locke and Reid, indicating as we proceed the points of affiliation and doctrinal identity between their system and the Baconian method of investigation, and thus demonstrate that their system is assumed in that method. In developing the doctrines of Locke and Reid, we shall not so much follow in their tracks, as pursue the train of our own thoughts: neither shall we stop short at the limits to which they have developed their doc- trines, but will give to them more scientific complete- ness than they possess as developed by themselves, by filling up, with logical concatenations, the chasms which lie between the doctrines and their correlative method of investigation, and by modifying any doc- trine which they have expressed with too much latU THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 1J3 iude or expressed imperfectly, so as to make them har- monize in a system. It was the signal glory of Locke to establish the true theory of the origin of our ideas; and thus to solve the problem which lies at the very threshold of psy- chology. The theory of innate ideas which we have already exhibited, had prevailed generally throughout the whole history of philosophy. This theory Locke overthrew, just as Bacon had done its correlative method of investigation, and showed how all our ideas originate.* In commencing his strictures upon the theory of innate Ideas he says: "It is an established opinion amongst some men, that there are in the un- derstanding certain innate principles, some primary notions, koinai ennoiai, characters as it were, stamped upon the mind of man, which the soul receives in its very first being, and brings into the world with it." — *We do not mean that Locke has shown correctly in every in- stance,howour notions have originated: but that he has shown, that they all are acquired through experience and are not an original furnimre of the mind. Can any one doubt, for example, how the notions of colours and sounds are acquired, when they consider that persons who have not the senses of sight and hearing can- not by any means whatever acquire these notions? They must see at once, that these notions are acquired through the senses of eight and hearing. Locke has shown that all other notions of the external world are acquired in a similar way; though his 'expla- nation of some instances may be erroneous. Neither does it de- tract fioin the truth of Locke's indication of the sources of these notions, that he has not chosen the most appropriate terms to ex- press them, viz. sensation and reflection. The last is the term which has been mostly considered erroneous. Consciousness has been, and we concur in the opinion, considered as indicating more exactly the source ot one class of our ideas. But this precision, though important in scientific accuracy; does not detract from the truth of the solution which Locke has given of the problem of the origin of our ideas. It is a pitiful criticism upon a great phi- losophical discovery, to dwell upon a mere inaccuracy in defini- tion; though certainly, the inaccuracy ought to be pointed out. 10* 114 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. He then selects the following propositions as "having the most allowed title to innate" principles, namely:- "whatever is, is; and it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to &e." He then argues that these prin- ciples are not so much as known to the greater part of mankind, and are therefore not innate. "For, first, it is evident, that all children and idiots have not the least apprehension or thought of them; and the want of that is enough to destroy that universal assent, which must needs be the necessary concomitant of all innate truths* it seeming to me near a contradiction to say that there are truths imprinted on the soul which it perceives not, understands not; imprinting, if it signify anything, be- ing nothing else but the making certain truths to be perceived. For to imprint anything on the mind, with- out the mind's perceiving it, seems to me hardly intel- ligible. If, therefore, children and idiots have souls, have minds with those impressions upon them, they must unavoidably perceive them, and necessarily know and assent to these truths; which, since they do not, it is evident that there are no such impressions. No proposition can be said to be in the mind, which it never yet knew, which it was never yet conscious of." To the argument which had been frequently used by the advocates of the doctrine of innate ideas, that men know these innate principles, as soon as they come to the use of reason, he replies: "But how can those men think the use of reason necessary, to discover princi- ples that are supposed innate, when reason, (if we may believe them,) is nothing else but the faculty of de- ducing unknown truths from principles or propositions, that are already known! We may as well think the THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 115 use of reason necessary to make our eyes discover vis- ible objects, or that there should be need of reason, or the exercise thereof, to make the understanding see what is originally engraven on it, and cannot be in the understanding before it is perceived by it." After showing that the fact that these propositions are assen- ted to, as soon as proposed and understood, does not prove them innate, and after deducing a variety of oth- er arguments against the doctrine of innate ideas or principles, he says: "I say next that these two gener- al propositions are not the truths that first possess the mind of children, nor are antecedent to all acquired and adventitious notions; which if they were innate, they must needs be. The child certainly knows that the nurse that feeds it, is neither the cat it plays with, nor the blackmore it is afraid of; that the wormseed or mustard it refuses, is not the apple or sugar it cries for, this it is certainly and undoubtedly assured of; but wil[ any one say, it is by virtue of this principle, that it is imposssible for the same thing to be, and not to be, that it so firmly assents to these and other parts of its knowledge? Or that the child has any notion or ap- prehension of that proposition, at any age, wherein yet it is plain, it knows a great many other truths?" By this train of reasoning, Locke has utterly overthrown the theory of innate ideas. This he does in the first book of his work on the human understanding. And in the second book, he shows the true theory of the origin of ideas or of human knowledge. "Let us," says he, <{ then suppose the mind to be as we say white paper, void of all characters, without any ideas, how comes it to be furnished? Where comes 116 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. it by that vast store which the busy and boundless fan- cy of man has painted on it with almost endless variety? Where has it all the materials of reason and knowl- edge? To this I answer, in one word, from experi- ence; in that all our knowledge is founded, and from that it ultimately derives itself. Our observation em- ployed either about external objects, or about the in- ternal operations of our minds, perceived and reflected upon by ourselves, is that which supplies our under- standing with materials of thinking. These two are the fountains of knowledge, from whence all the ideas we have or naturally can have, do spring." Such is Locke's theory of the origin of human knowledge — it is all founded on experience. Here we have arrived at the point of affiliation and doctrinal identity, between the psychology of Locke, and the methods of investigation of Bacon, namely, thai all our knowledge is founded on experience. This is the theory of mind with all its correlative doctrines, that is assumed in the Baconian method of investiga- tion. This theory of mind teaches that we begin with the knowledge of particulars and proceed to the knowl- edge of generals, as is taught throughout Locke's wri- tings; and that nothing but particulars producing" par- ocular effects have any real existence; and that gener- als are nothing more thai: the conceptions of the mind formed from the contemplation of particulars, and are not real archetypical existences as Plato thought, by which the nature of particulars are comprehended. Though Locke had, as we have shown, solved the great fundamental problem of psychology, and thus laid the foundation of mental philosophy* yet he had THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHT. 117 assumed in that solution a most erroneous theory in regard to the manner in which the mind perceives both external objects and itself. He assumed the ideal the- ory, that ideas or images of things in the mind, and not things themselves are the only objects of thought which had prevailed universally from the earliest his- tory of philosophy. Bishop Berkeley, after the time of Locke, showed that this doctrine led irresistibly to the denial of the existence of the material world; be- cause if we perceive nothing but ideas, there is no ground for inferring that any material world exists; a& there is nothing in ideas to indicate such a fact. But Berkeley held that the mind does perceive itself im- mediately, and therefore concluded that the spiritual world has a real existence. Hume, who was instiga- ted by a passion to overthrow all belief, philosophical as well as religious, in order that he might engulph all knowledge in absolute skepticism, had the acumen to pierce through the inconsistency of Berkeley's doc- trines in regard to the spiritual world, and his doc- trines in regard to the material world, and showed that Berkeley had no more right to hold that the mind per- ceived itself immediately, than he had to hold that it perceived the material world immediately; and as Hume held the ideal theory to be true, he turned the arguments which Berkeley had used against the exis- tence of the material world, against the existence of the spiritual, and showed that a denial of its existence is also a legitimate deduction from the ideal theory. — So that a Christian Bishop and an infidel philosopher had, by their joint labours, shown that a doctrine in which they both believed, and wh : ch had prevailed unu 118 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. versally in this philosophical world for several thou- sand years, proved beyond a doubt that the universe of both matter and mind is all an illusion; and that noth- ing exists but certain ideas governed by laws of con- stant succession. Thus had skepticism, by attacking English philoso- phy on a point where it had inadvertently based itself upon error, utterly overthrown it. But in the order of Providence, a champion for the truth appeared in Reid, who, imbued with the true spirit of English phi- losophy, had the sagacity to perceive that the conclu- sions of Berkeley and Hume, are a reductio ad absur- dum of the ideal theory, and at once set about to ex- amine it; for up to this time, he had believed in its truth. He showed that when applied to the sense of sight, there is something plausible in the theory, that the mind perceives the images of things and not things themselves, but that when applied to the other senses it is perfectly absurd. *' As to objects of sight," says he, "I understand what is meant by an image of the figure in the brain: but how shall we conceive an im- age of their colour, where there is absolute darkness?- Aud as to all other objects of sense, except figure and colour, 1 am unable to conceive what is meant by an image of them. Let any man say what he means by an image of heat and cold, an image of hardness or softness, and an image of sound or smell, or taste. The word image, when applied to these objects of sense has absolutely no meaning.^ By this and many other modes of reasoning, Reid showed beyond a doubt that this theory is a mere hypothesis feigned in a vain en- deavour to fathom the mystery of the union between THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. - 119 body and soul, between mind and matter. Yet he did not attempt to substitute for it any theory of bis own, of the manner in whicb the mind perceives external things; as be considered tbis beyond the sphere of phi- losophy. "How a sensation,'' says he, "should instant- ly make us conceive and believe the existence of an external thing altogether unlike to it, I do not pretend to know; and when I say that the one suggests the other, I mean not to explain the manner of their con- nexion, but to express a fact, which every one may be conscious of; namely, that by a law of our nature, such a conception and belief constantly and immediately follow the sensation." Though Reid did not attempt to show the manner in which the mind perceives ex- ternal objects, for this is impossible; yet he has solved the second great problem in psychology as Locke has solved the first. This second problem is, upon what does our knowledge of the existence of the material and spiritual worlds rest? How do I know that these are not illusions, as Hume and Berkeley have taught? We have shown how Des Cartes has answered these questions — that he based their solutions upon argu- ment — upon demonstration: which is the basis upon which the theory of innate ideas must forever found it; as that theory knows no belief independent of or an- terior to demonstration. And though Hume (for we will now take leave of Berkeley) adopted the theory of Locke, that all our knowledge is founded ultimate- ly upon experience, yet he agreed with Des Cartes, that all belief is founded upon demonstration, and thus formed an inconsistent mongrel creed, which is the hallucination of the skeptic, who seeing in his own l£0 THK BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY-. mind contradictory opinions, concludes that this is the character of truth. Reid, therefore, taking as the foundation of his inquiry, the truth of Locke's doctrine* (though it must be admitted that Reid does not always *In consequence of the skeptical conclusions which Humu de- duced from the ideal theory, Reid was led to overlook in a great measure the importance of the service rendered by Juocke to men- tal philosophy, because Locke had assumed that theory in his explication of mental phenomena. He overlooked the fact that the great aim of Locke was to solve the problem of the origin of human knowledge, and that in the solution of this problem, he had, more by inadvertence, than by deliberate consideration, as- sumed the ideal theory, and that his solution is conect whether the ideal theory be true or not. In fact all that Reid has himself done, proves that Locke's theory of the origin of human knowl- edge is true. For, while Reid is refuting the ideal theory, he in- cidentally establishes the fact that there are no innate ideas or no- tions, but that they are acquired by experience — suggested by sensation and consciousness. It is true that he says frequently in his writings that there are other ideas than those of sensation and reflection: but then, we must observe what he means by this. He does not lay it down as an abstract proposition, but confines its meaning to the ideal theory, and thus limits the meaning of the proposition. He is refuting the ideal theory, and uses this proposition as a touchstone to refute that theory. For exaraple, he says, "The conception of a mind, is neither an idea of sensa- tion nor of reflection; for it is neither like any of our sensations, nor like anything we are conscious of." Now, in this sentence, when it is taken in connexion with Reid's argument, properly, the first proposition — "The conception of a mind is neither an idea of sensation nor of reflection," is the conclusion, and the last proposition — "For it is neither like any of our sensations nor like anything we are conscious of is the proof of the premises from which the first is deduced. His object is to refute the theory that our ideas are mere images of something in sensation or conscious- ness; and in order to do this, he shows that the idea of mind is not an image of anything either in sensation or consciousness: but that it is a notion which is suggested to us by our sensations, just as the idea of hardness is not like that quality in matter, yet it is suggested to us by feeling a body which possesses that quality. But still it is evident, that Reid supposed that he himself had solved the great problem in psychology — that he supposed the problem, whether the mind perceives things or the images of things, is a greater problem than that of the origin of our ideas, and he has accordingly subordinated this last, to the other, and classed Locke and Des Cartes, as belonging to the same school of mental philosophy. And even Dugald Stewart, with all his sys- THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 121 appear to comprehend fully his relation to Locke in the development of English psychology,) that all our knowledge is founded ultimately in experience, by a most profound and accurate analysis of mental phe- nomena, proved that there is in the mind an element of belief independent of demonstration, and evolved the great fundamental laws of human belief; and thus laid open to the eye of philosophy what it had so long sighed after, and toiled for through so many thousand years — the solid foundations of absolute verity, and raised up English philosophy from the abyss into which Hume had so coldly and stealthily piloted her. As Locke had shown that the elements of knowledge are not innate,and that neither are they acquired by reason- ing, but through sensation and consciousness, Reid, true to these principles of him whom God in his prov- idence had made his forerunner and master, though as we have already said, he did not seem to comprehend the fact, strove, and successfully, to discover the psycho- logical laws which govern human belief in regard to the knowledge acquired through these original sources. — The law of belief which governs the knowledge ac- tematic and critical cast of mind, did not discern the precise re- lation which Reid held (o Locke in the development of mental philosophy: but thought that Reid had originated a new mental philosophy. And this view of the subject, has led Stewart to ex^ press in his writings, opinions of Locke somewhat contradictory; thusshowing that his uiind was rather confused on the subject. All these errors of Stewart resulted from his not viewing psychology from logic, as we have done. By looking at it Irom logic, it is at once discovered, that what is the origin of human knowledge, is the fundamental problem, and that the solution of this problem is the first step in psychology, and that all philosophers must be classed under one or the other of the two solutions which have been giv- en of it, and not under tbe solutions of a minor problem, such as tchetiur the mind perceives images or things themselves. 11 122 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY* quired through sensation, he showed to be, that suck is the constitution of human nature, that man cannot but believe in the reality of whatever is clearly attested by the senses. And he showed that the law of belief relative to the phenomena of consciousness, is, that such is the constitution of human nature, that man cannot but believe in the reality of whatever is clearly attested by consciousness. He showed these to be ultimate facts in psychology, incapable of resolution into simpler el- ements. That human intelligence cannot penetrate deeper into the mysteries of faith. That here man finds laws of imperative command to believe, and that man cannot but believe. These laws are constituent elements of the mind. The mind must be annihilated before these laws can cease to operate; for the sane mind obeys by necessity. Disobedience is impossible except in insanity, and even then, disobedience is only partial. Another fundamental law of belief Reid showed to be, that man is so constituted that he cannot but believe in whatever he distinctly remembers. This law is auxiliary to the others; for without this law, the other two would be nearly useless. But the great fundamental law of belief, upon whose broad founda- tions, all science immediately rests, the law of induc- tive belief, which is the only guide to our knowledge in the darkness of the future, the law by which the mind infers the future from the past — that like causes will produce like effects — still remained undiscovered; and the dauntless skepticism of Hume stood in the very vestibule of the temple of philosophy, boldly declaring that man cannot know any thing but what he has ac- tually seen or been conscious of; and that even this THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 123 knowledge must be verified by reasoning,as all certainty- rests upon demonstration. Reid therefore showed by a most rigid analysis of mental phenomena, that man is so constituted that he cannot but believe that like causes will produce like effects; and that the future will be like the past: and thus discovered the great funda mental law of belief which governs the mental deter- mination in the inductive process; and thereby connec. ted the whole mental theory of Locke and himself With the Baconian method of investigation; for this is the point of contact between psychology and the method of investigation, as we showed in the beginning ot this chapter. Reid has therefore solved the second great problem in psychology; and showed that, the Baconi- an method of investigation which maintains that in- duction, and not reasoning, is the paramount process in the acquisition of knowledge, and that perception, and consciousness, and induction, and not reasoning, are the ultimate foundations of verity, has assumed a correct theory of the human mind. According to English psychology then, the mind of man is developed from without inwards — sensation be- ing exerted before consciousness, consciousness before induction, and induction before reasoning. As Reid showed that in the various exertions of thought there is not in the mind, any object distinct from the mind itself, but that what philosophers had called ideas or images of things in the mind, are nothing but the thoughts or acts of the mind, the doctrine of English psychology that all our knowledge is founded ultimate- ly upon experience, means that the powers of the mind are dormant until wakened into consciousness by some 124 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY impression made upon the senses, and that as soona# this is done, the knowledge of two facts is acquired at once, that of the existence of the object of sensation, and of the person's own existence as a sentient being; and thus two orders of ideas or notions are established ,- the mind and that which is not the mind; and that the original elements of all our knowledge are suggested to the mind by some such occasions — that certain im- pressions on our organs of sense are necessary to sug- gest to the mind a knowledge of external things, and to awaken it to a consciousness of its own existence, and to give rise to the exercise of its various faculties; and that after consciousness is thus awakened, it be- comes a source of ideas or notions distinct from those of sensation— that the ideas of colours, sounds, hard- ness, extension, and all the qualities and modes of mat- ter are received through the senses; and that the ideas of memory, volition, imagination, anger, love and all the acts and affections of mind are suggested in con- sciousness; and that it is from the materials thus fur- nished in the way of experience, that the mind by com- bining, abstracting, generalising, and so forth, builds up all knowledge. This mere historical order of the development of the mind shows that particulars are known before gen- erals; and that consequently, perception is exercised before induction, and induction, before reasoning; be- cause perception informs us of particulars, induction of generals, and reasoning sets out from generals, and is therefore dependent on induction for the truth of its premises; and consequently there cannot be an a priori method of investigation. THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 126 English psychology, then, has discovered the origin of human knowledge, and the fundamental laws of belief, which govern the two original sources of this knowledge, sensation and consciousness, and also the fundamental law of belief which governs the inductive inference of a general conclusion from particular ^in- stances exhibited in sensation and consciousness, and shown that these fundamental laws of belief are ele- ments of the mind itself; and consequently ultimate facts in psychology; and thus, by strict analysis of phenomena, laid open the whole mental process of ac- quiring knowledge, and established the basis of abso- lute verity. We have then in accordance with the proposition of Bacon quoted at the beginning of this chapter, a sure foundation to tread on through the whole path of in- vestigation, from the very first perceptions of the sens- es, to the highest generalizations of induction— having the fundamental laws of belief developed by Reid, to stand on safely and confidently in admitting the infor- mation of the senses, the information of consciousness, the information of memory and the conclusions of in- ductive inference. But let us return for a moment to the ground over which we have passed, and see whether we cannot throw more light on the theory of mind that all our knowledge is founded on experience; or rather, let us look at that theory in another light. Lord Bacon, as we have already shown, teaches that the knowledge of man is derived from two sources, the light of nature, and divine revelation: "The knowl- edge of man is as the waters, some descending from n* i'4,0 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. above, and some springing from beneath; the one in- formed by the light of nature, the other inspired by divine revelation." As we have examined psychology in the light of nature, we will now inquire whether any further light is thrown upon it by divine revela- tion. It is distinctly taught in the book of Genesis, that man originally received the truth by immediate reve- lation from God; and that he conversed with superior intelligences, messengers from Heaven; and thus, by a supernatural tuition, was instructed in knowledge which he could not have acquired by his unaided in- tellect. Now, if such communications of knowledge were necessary to the education of man, in the earliest period of his history, when he had just drawn his in- tellectual life from its first source, and possessed all the mental energy, which it may be conjectured he re- ceived when his intellectual endowments were first bestowed upon him by the hands of the Creator, is it not manifest, that the knowledge of man is not innate injits elements in the mind, and is not a mere devel- opment of human reason? For, at the creation of man, his physical necessities, as well as his mental enjoy- ments, required more than at any time since, that knowledge should be innate in his mind. But we find that man was treated as an ignorant being, as in his infancy, and was instructed by superior intelligen- ces. And this same supernatural instruction in some form was continued by prophets and inspired men, un- til it was completed in the gospel of Jesus.' Has not God, then, treated man on the assumption that knowledge is not a mere development of human THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 127 reason exercised upon elements or primordial ideas in- nate in the mind? It may, perhaps, be argued that it requires time to develop knowledge from these primor- dial notions, and that therefore man was necessarily- instructed in the earliest period of his history. But we judge that this has no force. Because the faculties of the first man were created mature, and his mental eye, undimmed by sin, we may conjecture, possessed an extraordinary degree of intuition, seeing with the greatest clearness whatever can be the object of intel- lectual perception; and therefore he could have devel- oped his innate ideas into sufficient knowledge, if this had been the mode of acquiring knowledge, which the Creator had established for him. But even if the first man had received his knowledge by an instantaneous endowment, it would not have impugned our theory; because his intellectual faculties and his physical na- ture were created mature, and not left to the slow pro- cess of natural growth, and therefore such an endow- ment would have been merely in keeping with the extraordinary dealings of the Creator, above the course of nature. But it is certain that the first man and all his posterity were treated as beings incapable of ac- quiring sufficient knowledge without supernatural in- struction; and the fact that their faculties were mature and yet their knowledge deficient, forcibly corroborates our position. But the gospel makes our conclusion still more clear. The apostle Paul says: "I had not known sin, but by the law; for I had not known lust, except the law had said thou shalt not covet." What is this but asserting that there is nothing in the reason of man which could 128 THE BACONIAN PHlLOSOPtilf . have taught him sin? The law was a schoolmaster, to bring man to the gospel; and the gospel has revealed still more clearly the truth to man. So far from the most essential knowledge being in- nate in man, it has been necessary in all periods o^ the world down to the present time, that man should he instructed by others of superior knowledge: and thus in modern times, a general providence is perform- ing for man what God did in the earlier periods of the world by direct instrumentality. No nation has ever risen from barbarism in the scale of civilization by its unaided efforts. All have borrowed learning from those which have preceded them. Every devel- opment of humanity has given its light to those which have succeeded it. The Greeks did all which philo- sophy, or the unaided reason of man, can do towards the solution of the mysteries of humanity. But after all their intellectual achievements, it has been declared by divine revelation, "that man by wisdom knew not God; v and that their philosophy was wisdom falsely so called. But who can tell how much of Greek philo- sophy was a traditionary reflection of divine revela- tions? To deny, that much of it was, would be to run counter to the whole current of history, and to falsify the best established inductions of philosophy. All the philosophy of every period of the world has been en- lightened by divine revelations; and by a strange re- flex action, the light thrown back from philosophy up- on revelation, often enables man to see the truths of revelation the more clearly. Philosophy becomes a mirror, in which we can see the image of revelation, reflected by its own light, in brighter lustre often, than tHE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 129 When we look at it immediately: but still it is the light of revelation all the while revealing the truth to us. In order to apply to individual man, what is here said of nations, it is merely necessary to reflect, that what is developed in nations, is also developed in the individual man: as a nation is but an aggregate of in- dividuals. We think, that our theory is further confirmed by the fact that the same sort of errors are manifest in the theology of nations which adopt the theory of innate ideas, as in their philosophy. Those nations which adopt this theory, and that all philosophy is nothing more than a development of human reason, have fallen into error by making revelation subordinate to philo- sophy—have modified the doctrines of revlation by the teachings of reason. Whereas, those nations which have adopted the opposite doctrine, that all knowledge is acquired by experience, either from the light of na- ture, or the light of revelation, have submitted to the teachings of both these lights— have become the mere interpreters of both nature and revelation — have ad- mitted that the mind has no innate intellectual con- ceptions, or innate moral principles, by which to try the truth of the doctrines of revelation: hut have ad- mitted as the truth whatever a fair interpretation showa to be the doctrines revealed. The English^ who adopt the doctrine, that all knowledge is founded in experi- ence, have the largest mass of orthodox theology — the- ology conforming to a strict interpretation of the scrip tures^of any nation in Christendom, while the Ger^ waan3 and French,, who maintain, to a great extent, uiw $er some modification or other, the theory of innate. 130 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. ideas, and exalt the ability of human reason, have reasoned away the obvious and philological meaning of the scriptures, in explaining their doctrines by certain abstract intellectual conceptions; and thus substituted a philosophical theology in the place of divine revela- tion, thereby declaring themselves wise above what is written. We have now, in the two chapters of the second part ot this discourse, exhibited an outline of the method of investigation, the process, the. starting points, and the foundations, of the English philosophy, and contrasted them with those of the opposite system of philosophy, in order, that our readers might see, in comparison with the other, the solid foundations of that philosophy which has formed the opinions and the mental habits of the Anglo-Saxon race; and also, that they might have a touchstone of philosophical criticism, by which to test the validity of the reigning speculations of the day. For such is the increasing taste, both in this country and England, for the transcendental specula- tions of the German and French philosophy, that un- less something is done, to check its progress, our old English philosophy will be cut loose from its strong anchor of common sense, and be driven off from its ancient moorings, to be dashed and tossed, by every wind of speculation, upon the boundless ocean of skepticism, PART THE THIRD. NATURAL THEOLOGY. ITS PLACE AMONGST THE SCIENCES; AND ITS EVIDENCE. The second part of this discourse, not only teaches the true method of investigation, but it may also be employed as a touchstone of philosophical criticism, to direct and enlighten the judgement in philosophy, just as rhetoric is a touchstone of literary criticism, to di- rect and refine the taste in literature. We will there- fore, in this third part of the discourse apply the logi- cal and psychological principles developed in the sec- ond part, by way of philosophical criticism, to Lord Brougham's Discourse of Natural Theology, and Hume's Essay on a Special Providence and a Future Fate, in order to show, how the errors of both these productions may be detected by the application of these principles; and also to make it manifest, that Natural Theology is a branch of the Baconian or inductive philosophy, and is supported by every principle of that philosophy, both logical and psychological: and thus, while we show the importance of the second part of this discourse as a touchstone of philosophical criticism, at the same time put to rest the ignorant assertion which we noticed in the first part of this discourse, that the Baconian philosophy leads to atheism. 132 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. With a view then to these objects, let us enquire what is the proper place of Natural Theology amongst the sciences, and what is the nature of the evidence upon which it rests! Natural theology, is a branch of the inductive phi- losophy, and is founded upon the same sort of evidence, as that upon which natural philosophy and metaphysics are based. Lord Brougham in his "Discourse of Natural Theology," enunciates this proposition; and the whole design of his work is to establish it: but he has in the very out-set, most strangely assumed a false notion in regard to the nature of the evidences on which natural theology rests; and then endeavours by a laboured analysis, to show, that the evidences on which natural philosophy and metaphysics are based, are of the same character. He assumes that all the evidence upon which natural theology rests is deduc- tive; and then endeavours to show, that all the evi- dence is deductive also, on which natural philosophy and metaphysics repose. Nothing can be more erro- neous than these notions; and more flimsy sophistry was never employed to sustain error, than the noble au- thor has pressed into his service. A false notion in logic which runs through the whole discourse, led him into these errors. This false notion in logic, is the confound - ing the fundamental laws ot belief with reasoning; and confounding reasoning with simple comparison. In- deed, the author's logical doctrines go the full length of rejecting altogether perception and consciousness, and substituting the process of reasoning in their stead. On pages 18 — 21, he remarks: — "The careless inquirer into physical truth would certainly think he had seiz- tHE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 133 sd on a sound principle of classification, if he should divide the objects with which philosophy, natural and mental, is conversant, into two classes— those objects of which we know the existence by our senses, or our consciousness; that is, external objects which we see, touch, taste, and smell, internal ideas which we con- ceive or remember, or emotion which we feel — and those objects of which we only know the existence by a process of reasoning, founded upon something origi- nally presented by the senses or by consciousness."— The author then goes on, with a tissue of the most egregious sophistry, to refute the truth of this classifi- cation; and after citing a great many instances of truths, which are generally supposed to be ascertained by perception and consciousness, and not by reasoning, he asks: "But can we say that there is no process of reasoning even in the simplest case which we have sup- posed our reasoner to put — the existence of the three kingdoms, of nature, of the heavenly bodies, of the mind? It is certain that there is in every one of these cases a process of reasoning." Now, is it not making wild work with mental philosophy, to assert that the existence of external objects, and even the existence of the mind is ascertained by processes of reasoning? — Why, what can the author mean by reasoning? Let him answer for himself! On page 20, in arguing this very point, he says — "The very idea of diversity im- plies reasoning, for it is the result of a comparison* "- Here, he evidently confounds reasoning with simple comparison; as will appear by throwing the argument into a syllogism; because the major premis will be— ''Whatever is the result of a comparison, implies rea- 12 134 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. soning;" which is virtually asserting that comparing is reasoning.* Whereas, reasoning is a comparing of two terms with a third term, and drawing a conclusion from the comparison, that the two terms agree with each other, from the fact that they agree with the same third term, or that they disagree with each other, from the fact that one of them agrees, and the other disa- grees with the same third term. So then, in every act of reasoning there are three acts of comparison, two simple and one inferential; and therefore to say that simple comparison is reasoning, is grossly erroneous.- Now, what is the process of reasoning, by which the existence of such an object of sense as a tree, is ascer- tained? I should like to see the argument in the form of a syllogism' But the notion that the existence of the mind is ascertained by reasoning and not by con- sciousness, is the grossest absurdity in the whole dis- course. Reasoning is the deducing something un- known, from something known. Now, what is it, from which the existence of the mind is deduced, which was known before the existence of the mind was known? What is the major premis of such a con- clusion? And if every object of sense and of consci- ousness is ascertained by reasoning, is deduced from something previously known — how did we acquire the knowledge from which it is deduced? Let this ques- tion be put in infinitum; and what answer can be given to it, on Lord Brougham's theory? There must be a *Note, — As it would embarrass us by the number of notes, to notice every application of the logical and psychological prin- ciples in this criticism, we will merely direct attention to this in- stance, and leave the other instances to the reader's own obser- vation. See page 54, THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 135 beginning some where; and this rebuts the presump- tion that all our knowledge is ascertained by reasoning. The truth is, Lord Brougham's discourse is replete with logical blunders; and he contradicts himself over and over again, and evinces the greatest looseness and confusion of opinion in regard to the general doctrines of logic. For example: — on page 39, he says — "The consciousness of existence, the perpetual sense that we are thinking, and that we are performing the operation quite independently of all material objects, proves to us the existence of a being different from our bodies, with a degree of evidence higher than any we can have for the existence of those bodies themselves, or of any other part of the material world." How can this sentence be reconciled with the doctrine before ad- vanced, that the existence of our mind is ascertained by reasoning? Is it not emphatically asserted here, that its existence is ascertained by consciousness, "The perpetual sense that we are thinking?" And on page 41, in discoursing of the faculties of the mind, he says — ''Among the most remarkable of these, is the power of reasoning, or first comparing ideas and drawing con- clusions from the comparison, and then comparing to- gether these conclusions or judgements." Is not this de- finition of reasoning, altogether inconsistent with the hy- pothesis that all comparison is reasoning? which is as- sumed as the basis of all the logical doctrines advan- ced in the first section of the discourse; though we are sure it was assumed inadvertently: yet without this as- sumption, the doctrines have not even the semblance of plausibility, and even with it they are altogether untenable; because it would then be necessary to as- 136 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY, sume, that inevery act of perception and consciousness, there is comparison; which is preposterous. There are many other logical errors in the discourse, such as confounding induction with reasoning: but our limits will not permit us to make quotations in proof of this point. We think that it is now apparent, that Lord Brough- am was in error when he assumed that all the evidences of natural theology are deductive; for they are evident- ly of both kinds — some intuitive and some deductive^ just as in all other inductive sciences. In other words, some of its evidences rest upon perception and consci- ousness and some upon reasoning. It is impossible to distinguish what items of evidence or knowledge are ascertained by perception and consciousness, and what by reasoning in every instance; yet it is easy to draw a line of difference between them by general definition; for every one knows that they differ widely from each other. It is therefore impossible, and we do not think that it is desirable, (for it is the case of every other inductive science) to show what amount of the evi- dence of natural theology, is founded upon perception and consciousness, and what amount upon reasoning. All that is requisite (if it be requisite at all to consider its evidences in this division) is to show in a general way that some of its evidences are founded upon the one, and some upon the other; and this is so easily done, and we conceive it to be of so little importance, that we will not make a particular topic of it; but will merely ask the reader to bear the matter in mind as he passes over the sequel of this part of our discourse. Let us return to the proposition with which we set THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 137 out, that natural theology is a branch of the inductive philosophy; and is founded upon the same sort of evi- dence, as that upon which natural philosophy and meta- physics are based; which it is the object of this part of our discourse to establish, and which it was also the ob- ject of Lord Brougham's discourse to establish. The same error which pervades the first section, which is the portion of the discourse that we have been consid- ering, runs through all the other sections; and super- added to this, there is in the second and third sections a continual dodging of the chief difficulty which the dis- course was designed to remove — the difficulty of "ex- plaining'' as the author says on page 10,. "the nature of the evidence upon which it (natural theology) rests — of showing that it is a science the truths of which are discovered by induction, like the truths of natural and moral philosophy — that it is a branch of science partaking of the nature of each of those great di- visions of human knowledge, and not merely closely allied to them both:'' all this will appear as we proceed. We will therefore endeavor to establish the proposi- tion with which we set out, by meeting the difficulties, which our author shunned; and will at the same time, show how he has shunned them, and thus point out the defects in his discourse, while we supply them, or by pointing out in what they consist , show how they may be supplied. Natural theology branches off into two paths of in- quiry concurrently, or rather identically with natural philosophy and metaphysics; for in inquiring into the structure and relations of the physical and spiritual worlds, which are respectively, the objects of natural 12* IBB THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHT. philosophy and metaphysics, the evidences of their ori- gin and destiny which are the objects of natural theo- logy, are necessarily revealed to uf, and forced upon our attention. In our inquiries into the physical and spiritual worlds, we cannot hut observe the evidences of design displayed in them: in other words ? when we are studying natural philosophy and metaphysics,, the evidences of natural theology lie in our path at every step — we behold the footsteps of God imprinted on every pait of these domains of inquiry. "The same induction of facts," says Lord Brougham, "which leads us to a knowledge of the structure of the eye and its functions in the animal economy, leads us to the know! * edgQ of its adaptation to the properties of light. It is a truth in physics, in the strictest sense of the word ? that vision is performed by the eye refracting lights and making it converge to a focus on the retina; and that the peculiar combination of its lenses, and the dif- ferent materials they are composed of, correct the in- distinctness which would otherwise arise from the dif- ferent refrangibility of light: in other words, make the eye an achromatic instrument. But if this is not also a truth in natural theology, it is a position from which^ by the shortest possible process of reasoning,jWe arrive at a theological truth — namely, that the instrument so successfully performing a given service by means of this curious structure, must have been formed with a knowledge of the properties of light/* We have made this quotation both for the purpose of illustrating our position, and at the same time pointing out the defect, which runs through the whole discourse, of dodging the real difficulty, as is done in this quotation; for this may THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 139 be taken as a favourable sample of the instances in which the author explains the mental transition from the apprehension of a truth in natural philosophy, to the apprehension of a truth in natural theology. In no instance, has he explained it more accurately; for in many instances, he leaps the chasm which separates the truths of the two sciences, or bridges it over with a mere assertion; and thus passes by the very point to be proved. For example: he concludes the very par- agraph, which we are now considering, thus— "These things are truths in both physics and theology; they are truths taught by the selfsame process of investiga- tion, and resting upon the self-same kind of evidence." This conclusion is preceded by no analysis indicating its truth: but merely by statements of facts in natural philosophy relative to the laws of light and their adap- tation to the structure of the eye. So again, on page 51, after citing many examples of design in the psy* chological world, when he comes to prove that the the- ological doctrine inferrable from the examples, rests upon the same sort of evidence, as that upon which intellectual and natural science rests, he passes over the very point to be proved by this assertion — ''The kind of evidence is not like, but identical with, that by which we conduct all the investigations of intellectual and of natural science." But to return, from this ex- position, to the quotation above. — The proposition, "that the eye is an achromatic instrument," is certain- ly not a truth in natural theology; though it is evidence which proves a truth in natural theology — that it was made by an intelligent agent. For it is one thing to inquire into the uses of an object, and another to in- 140 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. quire into its origin — whether it was manufactured or not? One thing, to inquire into the structure of a watch, and another to inquire whether it was manu- factured or produced spontaneously — to inquire into the use of a thing, and whether it was designed and fabricated for that use. But is the proposition, ''that the eye is an achromatic instrument, a position from which by the shortest possible process of reasoning, we arrive at a theological truth"? May we not arrive at the doctrine, that the e) 7 e was made by an intelligent agent, simultaneously with the discovery that the eye is an achromatic instrument? Is not evidence of both truths revealed at the same time? Or are not both truths, different convictions produced by the same ev- idence, owing to different views of it? For example: — in inquiring into the functions of the eye on mechan- ical principles, with a view to ascertain what mechan- ical design it evinces, the only evidence of design, would be its round form, which makes it move more easily in the socket, so as to enable us to look about more readily; and the eye lids, which serve as a protection, and for the purpose of shutting up the eye, to prevent us from seeing when we desire to sleep. And these would be all the evidences of design, which optics would afford one acquainted with mechanics and ana- tomy, but ignorant of the laws of light. And thus stood the evidences of natural theology afforded by optics, until Sir Isaac Newton discovered the different refrangibility of the different rays of light. This dis- covery in natural science, now enabled us to discover the design of the other peculiar conformation of the eye — that its lenses refract light and make it converge to THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 141 a focus, and paint an image on the retina. Here, then, as optics progress, other evidences of design are reveal- ed; and natural theology keeps pace with optics. Still our knowledge of optics is imperfect. Mr. Dolland discovers another law of nature — the dispersive pow- ers of different substances; and this enables us to ascer- tain that the peculiar materials which the lenses of the eye are composed of, correct the indistinctness of vision , that would otherwise be produced by the different re- frangibility of the different rays of light: and thus an- other adaptation ot means to an end, is discovered; and the evidences of natural theology evinced by the human eye are complete. The science of optics is now investigated in reference to comparative anatomy; and it is here discovered, that the conformation of the .eye is varied to suit, the different necessities of each an- imal. If the animal prowls by night, the conformation of the eye is such as to enable him to see in the dark: if he be amphibious, his eye is formed so as to suit the vision to the mediums of both air and water: if he be ac- quatic, his eye is constructed wholly with reference to the adaptation of light to water; and this change of conformation to diversity of circumstances, is seen throughout the whole science of comparative anatomy. In this investigation, it is perfectly obvious, that the truths of natural theology were revealed to us simul- taneously with the truths in optics; for the truths of optics are the evidences of the truths of natural theo- logy. In fact, the very idea of contrivance involves the idea of a contriver; and it may be doubted, whether in the acquisition of knowledge, the idea of contri- ver or agent, is not first in chronological order: it cer* 142 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY* tainly is, if either be prior. It is also obvious, that the process of investigation is the same in optics and nat- ural theology; for truths in both sciences were discov- ered in the same investigation; just as anatomical truths, and the truth of the different refrangibility of the rays of light, and the truth of the refractive powers of dif- ferent substances, and of the dispersive powers of of substances, also, might have been discovered in the same process of investigation. All these various truths belonging to different sciences, may be discov- ered by the self-same inductive process; just as in an analysis of any complex phenomenon, truths belonging to different sciences are always discovered, in the re- solution of such a phenomenon into its several causes. The process of investigation in natural theology, is just as obviously inductive, as that in physical science. — - For example — one instance of adaptation of means to ends, is discovered, and another, and another, until the observer is forced by the laws of his mind, to believe, that so many contrivances adjusted so nicely for bring- ing about certain ends, must have been fabricated for the purpose, by some agent of knowledge competent to the task. It is manifest, then, that the evidence of natural theology is of precisely the same character, as that on which natural philosophy rests; and like all other evi- dence, produces conviction when contemplated inde- pendently of our volition. Its evidences cannot be comprehended, without our being persuaded of its truths. That some have not been persuaded of its truths, though they have understood the evidences, or perceived the designs, does not result from the fact that THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 143 the evidences had no tendency to convince them; but because preconceived opinions overruled or counterac- ted the force of these evidences: so that their opinion* do not result from any inherent defect in the testimony any more than the inefficiency of medicines in some, cases, does not result from the defect of the medicines but from the condition of the patients. The instant we discover contrivance, adaptation of means to ends, in any part of creation, whether in the physical or spiritual worlds, we are irresistibly led to infer an in- telligent artificer. Who, for instance, can read the Bridgewater Treatises, and contemplate the innumera- ble instances of contrivance, adaptations of means to ends, order, and harmony, there collected, and not be convinced that such innumerable arrangements so con- ducive to purposes, and so certainly accomplishing them, and in many instances accomplishing them by such a number and variety of means changed to suit a change of circumstances, all working to accomplish particular purposes which are important in themselves, and yet, by the harmony of their action accomplishing with unerring certainty, and in some instances, at such long and regular intervals of time, the main purpose of all the arrangements combined, must have been made by design; and that an agent exists capable of contriving the whole— of conceiving the purposes, and adapting the means, and adjusting them so nicely, for executing these purposes? A much more limited in- duction of instances of any other class, would convince any one, of any truth in physical science. The mosl cautious philosophers are continually inferring physi- cal causes from a much more limited induction of facts. 144 the Baconian Philosophy. We have, then, the same kind, if not the same degree of evidence, and we will say the same degree, for be* lieving in the existence of an intelligent first cause or agent, as we have for believing in the existence of gravity or any other physical cause. The evidence of the one is just as obvious as that of the other — shines with as bright a light from every part of creation. — Why, then, should it not strike home upon the mind, as strong a conviction of the peculiar doctrines which it teaches? Is it because we infer an invisible agent, from sensible phenomena? But may not this question return upon him, who asks it, to know whether we do not continually infer invisible physical causes from sen- sible phenomena? Will it be said that the existence of an intelligent artificer, cannot be proved by contri- vances, adaptations of means to ends, order, and har- mony, just as the existence of a physical cause, can be proved by the motions and changes around us? It cer- tainly can; and the grounds, upon which the proofs in both instances rest, will be pointed out in the sequel, in treating of causation in connection with Mr. Hume's '& Essay. We will not consider the branch of natural theology, which runs identically with metaphysics, as the re- marks upon the branch, which we have considered, can be easily applied to this branch; and as the defects in Lord Brougham's Discourse, are precisely the same in both branches, and therefore need not be pointed out in this branch. As we have now examined the nature of the evi- dence on which natural theology rests, we will next endeavour to point out its exact place among the sci- ^*AE BACONIAN PHILOSOPltt* 145 ^-aces, and its precise relations to them. And this, we think, cannot be done better, than by showing what Lord Bacon has said on the subject; especially too, as we shall thereby vindicate the opinion of this great man on this subject, from the idle censures of blunder- ing ignorance, or the wilful perversions of envious de- traction endeavouring to cover over Lord Bacon's opin- ions, in order that it may gain the credit of having first discovered the proper place of natural theology among the sciences; when, in fact, all that they have said truly on the subject, was said in a general way by Ba- con, and whenever they have refused to follow this il- lustrious guide, they have gone astray from the truth. Lord Bacon, in his Advancement of Learning, after speaking of history and poetry, says.- — -"The knowledge of man is as the waters, some descending from above, and some springing from beneath; the one informed by the light of nature, the other inspired by divine revelation. — So then according to these two differing illuminations or originals, knowledge is first of all di- vided into divinity and philosophy." xt In philosophy, the contemplations of man do either penetrate unto God, — or are circumf erred to nature, — or are reflected or reverted upon himself. Out of which several inquiries, there do arise three knowl- edges, divine philosophy, natural philosophy, and hu- man philosophy or humanity." — page 131, Basil Mon- tague's edition. "And as concerning divine philosophy or natural theology, it is that knowledge or rudiment of knowl- edge concerning God, which may be obtained by the contemplation of his creatures; which knowledge may 13 146 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. be truly termed divine, in respect of the object, and natural, in respect of the light. — For as all works do show forth the power and skill of the workman; so it is of the works of God, which do show the omnipo- tency and wisdom of the maker. Wherefore by the contemplation of nature, to induce and enforce the acknowledgment of God, and to demonstrate his pow- er, providence and goodness, is an excellent argumentf and hath been excellently handled by divers." — pages 135—6. "Natural science or theory (natural philosophy) is divided into physique and metaphysique: wherein I desire, it may be conceived that I use the word meta- physique in a differing sense from that, that is receiv- ed: and in like manner, I doubt not it will easily ap- pear to men of judgment, that in this and other partic- ulars wheresoever my conception and notion may dif- fer from the ancient, yet I am studious to keep ancient terms. To return, therefore, to the use and accepta- tion of the term metaphysique as I now understand the word. It appeareth likewise, that natural theology, which heretofore hath been handled confusedly with metaphysique, I have enclosed and bounded by itself. It is, therefore, now a question, what is left remaining for metaphysique; wherein I may without prejudice preserve thus much of the ancient of antiquity, that physique should contemplate that which is inherent in matter, and therefore transitory; and metaphysique should handle that which supposes further in nature a reason, understanding and platform — the one part which is physique, inquireth and handleth the material and efficient causes; and the other which is metapby- THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 147 sique handleth the formal and final causes." — pages 141—2. "For metaphysique, we have assigned unto it, the inquiry of formal and final causes." — page 144. Lord Bacon then proceeds to inquire into formal causes, by which he means causes of a higher degree than physi- cal causes, in his meaning of this latter term, and then proceeds to the second part of metaphysique. "The second part of metaphysique, is the inquiry of final causes, which I am moved to report not as omitted, but as misplaced; and yet if it were but a fault in-order, I would not speak of it; for order is matter of illustration, but pertaineth not to the substance of sci- ences. But this misplacing hath caused a deficience or at least a great improficience in the sciences them- selves. For the handling of final causes, mixed with the rest in physical inquiries, hath intercepted the se- vere and diligent inquiry of all real and physical causes, and given men occasion to stay upon these sat- isfactory and specious causes, to the great arrest and prejudice of further discovery. — Not because those final causes are not true, and worthy to be inquired, being kept within their own province; but because their ex- cursions into the limits of physical causes, has bred a vastness and solitude in that track. For otherwise keeping their precincts and borders, men are extreme- ly deceived, if they think there is an enmity or re- pugnancy at all between them. For the cause render- ed that the hairs about the eye-lids are for a safe- guard of the sight, doth not impugn the cause render- ed, that pilosity is incident to orifices of moisture; and go of the rest; both causes being true and compatible, 14S THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHf. the one declaring an intention, the other a consequence only."— pages 148—150. It will be seen by these extracts,, that Bacon first di- vides knowledge into divinity (revelation) and philo- sophy. He then proceeds to consider philosophy; and divides it into three parts 7 divine philosophy or natural theology ^natural philosophy and human philosophy » As- *he first in order, he then treats of natural theology, and says with great sagacity? that it C4 may be truly termed divine in respect of the object, and natural in respect of the light;" that is, the subject of which it treats, is divine, but the evidence on which it rests is natural^ or founded on the constitution of nature; the very doc- trine which Lord Brougham's whole treatise was de- signed to establish. He next proceeds to the consid- eration of natural philosophy, and divides it into phy- sique and metaphysique; and defines the province of, physique to be the inquiry into physical causes; and after treating of this branch of natural philosophy at some length, he proceeds to the other branch, which he calls metaphysique; and we bespeak the particular attention of our readers to this branch of Bacon's di- vision of natural philosophy, asking them to bear con- stantly in mind, the sense in which he uses the term, as a part of natural philosophy? and not according to its present acceptation, the science which treats of mind. Bacon defines metaphysique, to be that part of natur- al philosophy which inquires into formal and final cau- ses. After treating of formal causes, by which he means causes of a higher degree than physical causes, in hi$ sense of this latter term, he proceeds to consider final *HE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 149 causes. The term final causes, he uses in its common acceptation, the designs manifested in creation, "that the hairs about the eye-lids are for a safe-guard of the sight; that the firmness of hides is for the armor of the body against the extremities of heat or cold, declaring an intention and not a consequence only." He then, in order to do away the evils which had resulted to philosophy, from considering final causes confusedly with physical causes, "for the handling of final causes mixed with the rest in physical inquiries, had inter- cepted the severe and diligent inquiry of all real and physical causes," has divided natural philosophy into two parts, physique and metaphysique, in order to sep- arate the two kinds of causes, and to prevent final causes from being considered to the exclusion of phy- sical causes. However useless such a division may be at this advanced stage of science, it was necessary at the time Bacon wrote; for the consideration of final causes, had led men from the consideration of physical causes — "had given them occasion to stay upon these satisfactory and specious causes, to the great arrest and prejudice of further discovery. u Tosay," says Bacon "that the hairs of the eye-lids are for a quick-set and a fence about the sight; or that the firmness of the skins and hides of living creatures is to defend them from the extremities of heat or cold, is well inquired and collected in metaphysique: but in physique they are impertinent. — Not because those final causes are not true and worthy to be inquired, being kept within their own province (metaphysique); but because their excursions into the limits of physical causes hath bred a vastness and solitude in that track." Bacon there- 13* 15$ THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. fore, considered final causes as a part of the evidence on which natural philosophy rests; and very wisely too; for some great discoveries in natural philosophy have been made by the light of final causes. For ex- ample: — the discovery of the circulation of the blood was ascertained by the consideration of final causes; as also were the two sets of nerves. And indeed without the evidence of final causes, little progress would have been made in anatomy; for it is by considering the sup- posed functions of the different parts of the human system, that its exact anatomy is ascertained; as is evinced by the minute and useful anatomical researches^ the supposed functions of the liyer, the colon and other intestines are leading to, in the structure of these or- gans; while at the same time, the structure of these organs is aiding in ascertaining their functions; and all these again, conducting to a knowledge of correct pa- thology. And we find that Mr. Locke has used an argument founded upon final causes (the uses of the faculties) against the doctrine of innate ideas, thus making final causes evidences in intellectual philoso- phy. "For any one will easily grant, v says he, "that it would be impertinent to suppose the ideas of colours innate in a creature, to whom God has given sight and a power to receive them by the eyes from external ob- jects: and no less unreasonable would it be to attribute several truths to the impressions of nature and innate characters, when we may observe in ourselves faculties fit to attain as easy and certain knowledge of them, as if they were originally imprinted on the mind." 1st vol. 16 chap. 2d. b. We see then, that Bacon makes final causes evidence THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 161 in natural philosophy that part of it embraced in the division which he calls metaphjsique. Now natural theology also, rests entirely upon the evidence of final causes, the contrivances and adaptations ot means to ends manifested in creation; and therefore Lord Bacon lias with great sagacity, distinguished the use of final causes as evidence in natural philosophy, by bounding natural theology to itself. "Natural theology," says Bacon, "which heretofore hath been handled confused- ly with metaphysique (his sense of the term) I have bounded by itself." Before Bacon's time, men had, in handling final causes considered them as evidence in both natural philosophy and natural theology in one and the same treatise; thus confounding the two sciences to- gether, and retarding the progress of both. At one mo- ment they would in the same inquiry, consider the the- ological doctrine based upon final causes, and at the next moment, consider the philosophical doctrine based upon them; to the utter confusion of all connected thought and definite inquiry. Bacon then, considers final causes in two points of view — first as evidence in natural theology; and secondly, as evidence in natural philosophy. We believe that every writer on natural theology, has overlooked the fact that Bacon, has made this twofold division of the enquiry into final causes.- This oversight has arisen from the fact, that Bacon does not use the term final causes, when he speaks of natural theology; and also from the fact, that he uses the term metaphysique in a different sense from its present acceptation. And all writers who have quo- ted the concluding remarks on metaphysique, "not be- cawse those final causes are not true and worthy to be 152 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. inquired, being kept within their own province,'' have supposed that Bacon meant, natural theology, by "their own province;" whereas the whole tenor of the argu- ment shows, that he means, that part of natural philo- sophy, which he calls metaphysique. He is showing that final causes have not been kept within the prov- ince of metaphysique; but have been considered con- fusedly with physical causes— "that their excursions into the limits of physical causes, hath bred a vastness and solitude in that tract. For otherwise, keeping their precincts and borders (metaphysique) men are extremely deceived, if they think, there is an enmity or repugnancy at all between them-," that is between physical causes and final causes, both as- evidence in natural philosophy: and this is the more obvious, as Bacon never applies the term final causes to the con- trivances of nature, when considered as evidence in natural theology, but only when considered as evidence in natural philosophy; thus affording evidence of the maturity and precision of his reflections upon this point. Let any one read Bacon's writings with this, view of his doctrines in regard to fiual causes, and the occasional remarks which appear to disparage the in- quiry into final causes, can be easily reconciled with the doctrines so deliberately expressed in the Advancement of learning. It is manifest that Lord Bacon considered natural theology a branch of the inductive philosophy, based upon the same sort of evidence, as that upon which natural philosophy and metaphysics rest, "it being natural in respect of the light, though divine in respect of the objt ct" He makes it a br?nch of philosophy THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 153 because its evidence is founded in nature; not a branch of divinity, its evidence being derived from revelation. <4 The knowledge of man" says he, "is as the waters, some descending from above, and some springing from beneath; the one is informed by the light of nature, the other inspired by divine revelation. — So according to" these two different illuminations or originals (different sorts of evidence) knowledge is first of all, divided in- to divinity and philosophy." Now, has not Bacon defined the place of natural theology among the sci- ences, and pointed out its relations to them, with at least as much precision as Lord Brougham? Why, then, does Lord Brougham write his whole discourse, as though he claimed the merit of assigning to natural theology, its true place among the sciences? It is true, that one section of the discourse, is taken up with the consideration of what Bacon had said upon the subject; but after quoting detached remarks of Bacon upon final causes, which were not spoken in reference to natural theology at all; and expressing many misapprehensions of Bacon's meaning, he con- cludes, that on the whole, "when rightly examined, then, the authority of Lord Bacon appears not to op- pose the doctrine which we are seeking to illustrate." ''Appears not to oppose"!! So then all that the noble author could see, in the elaborate care, and extreme precision, with which Bacon has defined the bounda- ries of natural theology, and indicated the nature of the evidence on which it rests (for he has been as careful about natural theology, in this respect, as about any other science), is that he appears not to oppose the sci- ence of natural theology. Is this ignorance? or is it 154 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. wilful perversion, desiring to establish his own claim to the merit of discovering the place which natural theology holds among the sciences? This Olympic Jupiter of British criticism, has no right to complain of t'ne severity of our strictures; for he has been for the last twenty years continually hurling his bolts, without the least mercy, upon authors in every department of literature; and while we have pointed out the errors which more than disfigure his discourse, we here gladly acknowledge, that it throws the light of much learn- ing, upon the subject of natural theology, and contains some specimens of fine writing, that entitle its author, to stand in the very first rank of the great masters of diction. As we have shown, that natural theology is a branch of inductive philosophy, and is based upon the same sort of evidence, as that upon which natural philosophy and metaphysics repose, we will next proceed to com- bat the objections which have been urged against it, and to point out the chief source of the error of the objections; and in doing this, to extend our inquiry still further into the evidences of natural theology until we trace them up to the very origin of the main idea on which the whole science rests. Many philosophers, and amongst them, Descartes and Leibnitz, men of immense genius, and of vast at- tainments in every department of knowledge, have de- cried final causes, as unworthy to be admitted within the circle of legitimate philosophical evidence. La Place, too, one of the most illustriousnames of modern times, has rejected final causes from philosophy. "Let us run over," sats he, "the history of the progress of *HE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 155 the human mind and its errors: we shall perpetually gee final causes pushed away to the bounds of knowl- edge. The causes which Newton removed to the limits of the solar system, were long ago employed in explaining meteors. They are therefore, in the eyes of the philosopher, nothing more than the expression of the ignorance in which we are of most real causes." But so far as authority goes, it is decidedly favourable to the evidences of final causes. To say nothing of the many distinguished writers of the present day, we can point to the father of inductive philosophy, to Coperni- cus, to Kepler, and to the great genius of the human race, the man who had drunk deeper into the fountains of true philosophy, than any one who ever lived, as having borne their testimony in their favour. After Newton had passed on his sublime career, from planet to planet, and from system to system, until he had stepped from the golden ladder of geometry upon the remotest star; when he looked down and saw how far he was above the highest point to which any other philosopher had ever climbed, if he had excluded final causes from his philosophy, he would have supposed himself upon the very summit of science, and would have exclaimed, "there is no God; for if there were, here would be his dwelling place;" and this atheistic declaration would have been the conclusion of the im- mortal Principia. But in the spirit of the true philo- sophy, Newton directed his eye still upwards, and by the light of final causes, saw the heights of inductive science towering still far above him, and stretching on to the throne of an intelligent Creator; and then, with the same confidence in which he had written the other 156 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. great truths of nature, he penned his "General Scholi- um," declaring there is a God, and made it, the sub- lime conclusion of his immortal labours. We think, that much, if not all the error relative to natural theology, has originated in the use of the term, «'final causes.'' The use of this term has led to great confusion of ideas in regard to causation, and has also led men to confound an intelligent Creator s with a mere physical cause — to thrust a mere mechan- ical cause into jthe place of God. Mr. Hume in his 6t Essay on a particular Providence and a Future State," from the beginning to the end of his argument, con- founds an intelligent Creator, with a mere physical cause; and as soon as this is perceived, the fallacy of his argument becomes manifest. This argument of Mr. Hume, is the great bulwark of atheism; "and we may the rather conclude/' says Lord Brougham, "that it is not very easily answered, because, in fact, it has rarely, if ever, been encountered by writers on theo- logical subjects." We will, therefore, expose what ap- pears to be the chief error of this argument; as we be- lieve that the same error lies at the bottom of all ob- jections to natural theology. The Collocutor (who speaks Mr. Hume's senti- ments,) says — you then, who are my accusers have acknowledged, that the chief, or sole argument for a divine existence (which I never questioned,) is deriv- ed from the order of nature; where there appear such marks of intelligence and design, that you think it ex- travagant to assign for its cause, either chance, or the blind and unguided force of matter. You allow that this is an argument drawn from effects to causes. — ■ THE BACOKIAK PHILOSOPHY. 157 When we infer any particular cause from an effect, we must proportion the one to the other, and can never be allowed to ascribe to the cause any qualities but what are sufficient to produce the effect. — The same rule holds, whether the cause assigned, be brute un- conscious matter or rational intelligent being. If the cause be known only by the effect, we ought not to ascribe to it any qualities beyond what are precisely requisite to produce the effect — nor can we by any rules of just reasoning return back from the cause, and infer other effects from it, beyond those, by which alone it is known to us. No one merely from the sight of one of Zeuxis's pictures could know, that he was also a statuary or an architect, was an artist no less skilful in stone and marble than in colours. Allowing, there- fore, the Gods to be the authors of the existence or or- der of the universe; it follows that they possess that precise degree of power, intelligence, and benevolence, which appears in their workmanship; but nothing far- ther can be proved, except we call in the assistance of exaggeration and flattery, to supply the defects of arguments and reasoning.'' We perceive that in this argument, God is express- ly and designedly likened to, and confounded with any physical cause, and that the one is reasoned from to the other, and the whole argument throughout all its parts is conducted upon the supposition that there is no difference, "whether the cause assigned, be brute unconscious matter, or rational intelligent being;" and all the doctrine advanced by Mr. Hume, can be sus- tained upon this supposition only. But is it not obvi- ous to the plainest understanding, that there is a wide 14 158 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. difference between a mere physical cause, and an in- telligent Creator? What is a physical cause? It is an event or fact, which constantly precedes another in nature. For example: heat always precedes ignition in a body; and when we meet with a burnt stick, we therefore assign heat as the cause of the ignition. — What we mean then, by causation in the physical world, is nothing more, so far as our knowledge extends, than the constant conjunction or succession of two events or facts. We do not know, whether the cause, or antecedent fact, does contain an operative principle which produces the effect or sequent fact, or not; for we can readily conceive that this conjunction or suc- cession might have been otherwise — that fire might freeze, instead of burn; at least such a supposition in- volves no contradiction in thought, and therefore ap- pears to be within the limits of possibility. And in inferring a cause from an effect, we must not infer one more than adequate to produce the effect. And in the progress of science, causes are continually being re- solved into other causes, these again into causes still more remote; and as causes thus become effects, or in truth, their real character is thus ascertained to be noth- ing more than facts standing in constant conjunction or succession with other facts in the order of nature, as A stands before B, in the alphabet, and that it might have been otherwise. Such, then, is a physical cause; and that it is such, Mr. Hume is one of the most stren- uous advocates; and then of course, it must be to such an idea of a physical cause, that he likens the Creator throughout his argument. Now, to clothe the Creator with the attributes of THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 159 & physical cause; and to limit r his operations to the mere works which he has already made, as we limit a cause, to its known effects, is most preposterous. — There is no analogical or deductive connection be- tween them, upon which either an inference or an ar- gument from the one to the other, can be based. Mr, Hume has entirely misconceived the argument for the existence of a Divine being. It is not based upon the doctrine of cause and effect as exhibited in the physical world, at all (which will be more clearly shown in the sequel, when we treat of the origin of the idea of cau- sation); but is based upon the contrivances indicative of design, which appear in every part of the universe, to which the term, "final causes," has been very im- properly applied; thus extending the idea of causation, to a case in which it does not apply in its ordinary sig- nification. We can never infer the existence of an intelligent being or agent, from the mere antecedence and sequence of facts or phenomena, however constant it may be; for there is nothing in this, that evinces in- telligence. The mere fact that fire burns, or that cold freezes, can not give us the least ground for inferring the existence of an intelligent agent. But it is by ob- serving the contrivances, the adaptations of means to ends, by which certain results are brought about, dis- played in the universs, that leads us to infer the exis- tence of an intelligent agent, who designed and fabri- cated them. And why do we draw this inference? — Because contrivances, and adaptations of means to ends are marks of intelligence. But how do we know, that they are marks of intelligence? By observing the works of men. But how do we know that the works 160 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY of men evince intelligence? By a knowledge derived from consciousness of the exercise of intelligence by ourselves in conceiving designs and executing them by contrivances and adaptations of means to ends. We therefore, arrive at the knowledge of the Creator, (his existence being implied in such knowledge,) in the same manner, that we arrive at the knowledge of men — by comparing his works with our own* If we- see a watch for the first time, we know that it was made by an intelligent being, though we never saw one fab- ricated. So if we see an animal with all its admirable contrivances, we know that it must be the work of an intelligent being also; because both equally evince de- sign and intelligence; and experience, as well as an original principle of our minds compel us to ascribe both to a similar cause or agent, as they both have the appearance of a manufactured article, This is an act of ordinary induction of two facts under one class or principle. We look at the facts or phenomena in one point of view only— that of design; and this is the point we generalise. The difference in the facts, whether in the excellence of workmanship, in the ma- terial, or in the particular objects of the contrivances, cannot affect the justness of the classification; for this difference has nothing to do logically, with the point generalised. This is a well established inductive prin- ciple, upon which we are continually acting in the or- dinary affairs of life, as well as in philosophical pur- suits. We have thus by the strictest induction brought God and man under one class — that of intelligent be- ings or agents; and of course, we can reason from the one to the other, to the full extent of that classification; THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 1B1 and we will show in the sequel, that on this ground the evidences of natural theology are impregnable. "We can never return back," says Mr. Hume, "from a cause and inler other effects from it, than those by which it is already known to us." This, we appre- hend, cannot be said of man as an intelligent agent. — Could we not justly argue or inter that the artificer could make another watch, or that Zeuxis could paint another picture? It is impossible for us to think oth- erwise. The very same reasons will compel us to in- fer that God or the intelligent agent, who made the an- imal, could make another. If it be denied that Mr. Hume's argument goes to this extent, (though we as- sert that it does), yet, it cannot be denied, that it goes the extent of denying, that God can make any thing, the least variant from what he has already made. Which, according to-'the induction we have made of God and man, under one class — that of intelligent agents, is vir- tually asserting, that because a man has made an axe, we have no right to suppose, that he could make a ham- mer; or that because he has made a boot, we have no right to suppose or infer that he could make a shoe; or that because he has made a watch or a steam engine, that he could make a syringe or any the most simple uten- sil; for if an intelligent agent be like a physical cause, he must be confined to his known works; and we have no more right to infer smaller effects from a cause, than those which it is know r n to produce, than we have to infer larger. It is true, we would not be justified in inferring, Zeuxis was a statuary, from the fact that he was a painter; neither would we be justified in in- ferring that he was not a statuary; for, from the na~ X4* 162 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. ture of mind, we know that he might be, and a poet and a mathematician also; for it is the nature of mind to perform various operations, as the various works of man attest. We have proved God to be mind, or an intelligent being, and of course he must possess vari- ous powers; for a mind or intelligent being with capa- city to do one work only is incomprehensible; or at least contrary to experience and the analogies of na- ture. And does not the universe indicate the most various powers in its artificer? A perfect acquaintance with all science is evinced in its adaptations of means to ends, its laws, and its order. It is evident therefore, that it is unphilosophical, and indeed absurd, to limit the powers of God to what he has done, as we limit a cause to its known effect. Such a notion is contrary to all the analogies of mind as exhibited by men; and it is from observing the minds of men as manifested in their acts, and ultimately our own jninds, (as we have shown,) that we infer the nature of God; and not from the consideration of physical causes; to which God bears no analogy whatever, and from the contem- plation of which alone, it would be impossible ever to infer the existence of such a being. But if we push out Mr. Hume's argument a little further than he has done, (and we have a right to do it,) its erroneousness can be more clearly exhibited.— If we must infer that God can do more than he has al- ready done, we have no right to infer, that the sun will rise to-morrow, or that the world will continue anoth- er moment, or that the seasons will follow each other as they have done, or that the existence of any thing can be continued another moment; because we must THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 1(33 limit the cause to those effects, "by which alone it is known to us." In reference to this point, Mr. Hume says — "In works of human art and contrivance, it is al- lowable to advance from the effect to the cause, and re- turning back from the cause, to form new inferences concerning the effect, and examine the alterations, which it has probably undergone, or may undergo. But what is the foundation of this method of reasoning? — Plainly this; that man is a being whom we know by experience, whose notions and designs we are acquain- ted with, and whose projects and inclinations have a certain connection and coherence, according- to the laws, which nature has established for the government of such a creature." Well, cannot the same be said of God? Mr. Hume answers, no! "The Deity is known'to us, only by his productions, and is a single being in the universe not comprehended under any species or genus from whose known attributes, we can by analogy infer any attribute or quality in him." — We have shown, that we have a right to draw the very same inferences in regard to the power of God, to repeat and vary his operations, that we draw in re- gard to man; because we brought them under the same classification — the same "species or genus," and can therefore infer by analogy the attributes and qualities of God from the experienced attributes or qualities of man. We have as much right to infer, that God can create other worlds, as we have to infer that man can make another watch or other machine. The very- constitution of our minds, upon the comprehension of the evidence, necessitates] such an inference in both instances. We cannot believe otherwise if we wish- 164 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. ed to do so; for the very notion that God is an intelli- gent being forces such a conviction upon us. But does not Mr. Hume, when he admits that man can re - peat and vary his operations, virtually admit that God can do so? For it must be through the power of God upholding him, that man is enabled to do it; and this proposition Mr. Hume does not deny. Mr. Hume's argument goes the full length of destroying everything like inductive inference; and confines our knowledge to what is now present to our senses and consciousness and memory. If this narrow circle embraced all legi- timate knowledge, all our hopes would be blasted, by the most withering skepticism. From this train of reasoning, Mr. Hume, though he admits that there is a God, concludes, that we have no right to attribute, either omniscience or omnipotence to him; or suppose that he has either the power or in- clination to continue our existence in a future state; for we must limit his powers to what he has done. — We can not stop to show the fallacy of these conclu- sions; as the scope of this discourse confines us to the consideration of the evidences of natural theology, and does not permit us to consider its doctrines. It is obvious, that the great error of Mr. Hume's argument consists in confounding the Creator with a mere physical cause; and applying the doctrines of mere causation, to the creative operations of an intelli- gent agent. The same error is apparent in the quota- tion from La Place, where he says final causes are perpetually "pushed away to the boundaries of sci- ence." And the same error is the source of most, if not all, of the false doctrine relative to natural theology* THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 165 As Mi*. Hume's argument relative to a particular providence and a future state, is intimately connected with his doctrine of cause and effect; and as the portion of his doctrine of cause and effect, which relates to the origin of the idea of causation or power, is radically er- roneous, we will examine this portion of his doctrine and expose its errors. "All reasoning concerning matters of fact," says Mr. Hume, "seems to be founded on the relation of cause and effect. By reason of this relation alone, we can go beyond the evidence of our memory and senses, If we would satisfy ourselves, therefore, concerning the nature of that evidence, which assures us of matters of fact, we must inquire how we arrive at the knowledge of cause and effect. The knowledge of this relation is attained by experience, and not by reasoning a pri- ori. — The principle which determines us to form a con- clusion from the past to the future, is custom or habit. And it is certain, that we here advance a very intelli- gent proposition at least, if not a true one, when we assert that after the constant conjunction of two objects, heat and flame, for instance, weight and solidity, we are determined by custom alone, to expect the one from the appearance of the other. All inferences, therefore, from experience, are effects of custom, not oi reasoning." We will commence with Mr. Hume's last proposi- tion; and deny, that it is custom or habit, which de- termines us to draw conclusions from the past to the future, or to infer cause from effect. On the contrary, we maintain, that it is an original principle of the mind, which is exercised from earliest infancy; though 166 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. the exercise of it, like that of every other principle of the mind, is corrected by experience. This principle is a fundamental law of the mind, like the principles by which we believe in our own existence, and in the existence of external objects. It determines us to be- lieve that the future will be like the past, and that similar causes will produce 'similar effects. The in- ference is not intuitive, neither is it demonstrative, but we are compelled to draw it, by an original principle of the mind, called the fundamental law of inductive belief. This principle has been developed", since the days of Hume, by 'Dr. Reid; as we have shown in the second part of this discourse. We will here quote Mr. Hume against himself; and show that he has ad" mitted this very principle in some of his reasonings. ■■ — In a preceding chapter, where he argues that the in- ference from effect to cause, is not an argument, he says "When a child has felt the sensation of pain from touching the flame of a candle, he will be careful not to touch any candle; but will expect a similar effect, from a cause which is similar in its sensible qualities and appearances. If I be right, I pretend not to have made any great discovery. And if I be wrong, I must acknowledge myself to be indeed, a very backward scholar; since I cannot now discover an argument, which it seems was perfectly familiar to me, long before I was out of my cradle."- Mr. Hume, here says, that a child will infer that any candle will burn, because the one which he touched, did so. Now this inference surely cannot be from custom or habit; for it would be a strange sort of custom or habit, that is acquired by a child in a moment. As we do not know how old Mr. THE BA.CONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 167 Hume was before he left his cradle, we cannot deter- mine, whether there is any contradiction in his saying, that he was perfectly familiar with what he calls cus- tom or habit, long before he was out of his cradle, and shall leave this point to be determined by his nurse.— We do not care whether Mr. Hume calls the thing custom or habit or by any other name, so he admits that the child brings it into the world with it, and ex- ercises it from earliest infancy, as he does admit, if he means anything in this last quotation. In illustration of his doctrine of custom or habit, he makes a suppo- sition of a person of the strongest faculties of reason and reflection, brought suddenly into the world; and says that such a person, "would immediately observe a continual succession of objects, and oue event follow another; but would not be able to discover any thing further. Such person without mere experience could never employ his conjecture or reasoning concerning any matter of fact, or be assured of any thing beyond his senses or memory." Here Mr. Hume says, that a person of the strongest faculties of reason and reflection, could only from experience do what a child, he admits, does at once, and what he was perfectly familiar with long before he was out of his cradle. In another place, speaking of the operation, by which we infer like causes from like effects, he says, it is not "trusted to the fallacious deductions of our reason. It is more conformable to the ordinary wisdom of nature, to se- cure so necessary an act of the mind by some instinct or mechanical contrivance, which may be infallible in its operations, may discover itself at the first appear- ance of life and thought, &c." What he here calls 168 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. ''natural instinct, which discovers itself at the first ap- pearance of life and thought," he before calls custom or habit. In the first of the two last quotations, he obviously makes his person to suit his argument, and then tries to prove his argument by his person; which is reasoning in a circle. The fact is, he contradicts himself, so often, on this point, that his writings re- mind us of a wheat field, with a good deal of rye in it. At first, you cannot distinguish whether it is a field of wheat or a field of rye; but on a nearer view and a closer examination, we discover, that there is more wheat than rye, and therefore conclude, that it was in- tended for a field of wheat. The manner in which Mr. Hume has fallen into these contradiction*, is this: he first argues that the in- ference from the past to the future, or from effect to cause is founded on experience, and adduces such ar- guments to prove it, as will make this point strongest when taken alone. And in the second place, he con- tends, that it is not reasoning a priori, or a reasoning process at all; and adduces such arguments, as will make his point strongest when taken alone, losing sight of the arguments on the other point; and thus when the arguments on both points are brought into juxta position, as we have brought them, they are found in conflict and destny each other, and leave the truth in undisturbed security. In the recapitulation at the end of the essay on ne- cessary connection, between cause and effect, Mr. Hume says, "Every idea is copied from some prece- ding impression or sentiment; and when we cannot find any impresston, we may be certain that there is TKE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. H39 Igk) idea. In all single instances of the operation of bodies, or minds, there is nothing that produces any impression, nor consequently can suggest any idea of power or necessary connection. But when uniform instances appear, and the same object is always follow- ed by the same event, we then begin to entertain the notion of cause and connection. We then feel a new sentiment or impression, to wit, a customary connec- tion in the thought or imagination, between one object and its usual attendant; and this sentiment is the ori- ginal of that idea, which we seek for, For as this idea arises from a number of similar instances and not from any single instance^ it must arise from that circum* stance, in which the number of instances differ from every individual instance. But this customary con- nection, or transition of the imagination, is the only circumstance, in which they differ. In every other particular they are alike." The sentiment of customary connection, is certainly not very intelligible; and surely the idea of power is not a copy of it, according to Mr. Hume's own theory; because according to his theory, the idea differs from its impression or sentiment in vivacity only. They are, says he, in his essay on the origin of ideas, "dis- tinguished by their different degrees of force and vi- vacity." Now the impression or sentiment of con- nection is different in kind from the idea of power; does not come under the same class. The idea of pow- er must according to Mr. Hume's own theory, be a copy of the impression or sentiment of power, just as the idea of heat is a copy of the impression of heat, or the idea of a tree is a copy of the impression of a 15 170 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. tree, or the idea that any act of the mind is a copf of the sentiment of that act. They must be of the' same kind s and * 'distinguished by their different de- grees of force and vivacity." Mr. Hume means by impression, the effect produced on the mind when the object is present to the senses, or an emotion or oth- er mere mental act, as love or hatred, is actually tak» ing place, and by idea, the notion of this impression of this object or emotion when recalled by the memory. In another place, he says "that the idea of power can never be derived from the contemplation of bodies in single instances of their operation; because no bodies ever discover any power, which can be the original of this idea;" and he might have added, that a number of instances do not discover any power either, which can be the original of this idea. The only difference in the effect upon the mind, produced by a single in- stance and a number of them, is in degree of certainty. For example: — the application of heat to metal would give the impression that heat can fuse metal, and a number of instances of its application could only add certainty to our conviction: but could never suggest the idea, that heat can transmute metal into wood, or change the original impression into an idea entirely different from it. It is evident, then; that the idea of power or cause is not derived from the contemplation of a number of instances of conjunctions between the same facts or events, as Mr. Hnmcj contends. But here the question suggests itself, how can this doctrine of customary connection, be reconciled with the de- claration that the child will get the idea that any can- dle will burn, from the fact that one did so? The THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 171 child must certainly from the one instance, have de- rived tlie idea that the candle had the power to burn, or which is the same thing, was the cause of the pain, and that any other candle would produce the same ef* feet. Here, then, let us pause and look back, with a feeling of melancholy pity, at the laborious and toil- some efforts, of a great genius striving to overturn the foundations of all our religious hopes, ending at last in such gross contradictions and absurdities as would almost disgrace a child! It is evident from the foregoing considerations, that the idea of power or cause, is not derived originally from custom or habit in contemplating many instances of the conjunction orsuccession of the same phenome- na in the physical world. On the contrary, we main- tain that it is not derived from the contemplation of the phenomena of the physical world at all — the con- junction or succession of the same events, either in many or single instances; for it seems very clear that we could never derive the idea of power from merely contemplating the constant succession of two events or phenomena: but that it is derived from mental pheno- mena — from the consciousness of power in ourselves, to act or produce effects, or even make exertion; and that we transfer this idea of power or causation to what we call causes in the physical world. Suppose we had been from infancy shut up in a dark cave, with our body and limbs encrusted in plaster so that we could neither see motion in external bodies, nor be ca- pable of producing it in ourselves, and therefore could have no idea of it whatever: still we would have a com- plete idea of power or force derived from conscious- 172 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY - * Bess in ourselves of an endeavor, a nisus, an exertion, and a consequent fatigue and exhaustion. If, then, we were put into a state of insensibility by an opiate, and then removed into the light, where we could see in- animate things in motion, such as a stone rolling, we would have no idea that power or force was the cause of the motion; but if we were now freed from the plaster, and discovered that by the endeavor, the nisus, the exertion of which we were before conscious, we could move our limbs, and by their instrumentality oth- er bodies, we would begin to ascribe all the motions in the physical world, which were before inexplicable, to some hidden force; and thus transfer an idea deriv- ed exclusively from consciousness, to phenomena in the physical world. This is the history of the chron- ological order, in which every mind acquires its knowl- edge of causation in the physical world* And this is not a single instance, an anomaly, in mental phenom- ena; for the poet is continually transferring ideas deri- ved from consciousness to material things, in his per- sonifications. No one will pretend, that there is, in the physical world, any thing but motion, that can suggest the idea of force to us* and it is very certain, that this can do it, only by association in the manner which we have developed; for there is nothing in mo- tion that can suggest the idea of force to us a priori.— There is no analogy or perceptible relation between them; and force produces equilibrium as well as mo- tion. It may perhaps be asked, how does a child get the idea that a candle has the power to burn, just from a single instance ? By association in the man- ner we have shown: for power is, if not the very first* THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 173 certainly among the first things we are conscious of, in the acquisition of knowledge; for, on no other hypo- thesis, can any rational explication of psychological phenomena be given. Mr. Hume thus argues against this doctrine: ''The influence of the will over the bodily organs, is a fact, which like all natural events, can be known only by experience, and can never be foreseen from any apparent energy or power in the cause which connects it with the effect, and renders the one an infallible consequence of the other. The motion of our bodily organs follows upon the command of the will. Of this we are every moment conscious. But the means by which this is effected; the energy by which the will performs so extraordinary an opera- tion, of this we are so far from being immediately con- scious, that it must forever escape our most diligent inquiry." We certainly agree with Mr. Hume, that "the influence of the will cannot be foreseen from any apparent energy or power in the cause; because, this would be to look at the operations of the mind with the eyes. Here Mr. Hume confounds consciousness with perception; and applies language to the former, which has been formed to express the operations of the, latter, and has no meaning, when applied to the form= er. But is he not all the while proving by his own argument, that we are conscious of power over our bodily organs? And does not this give us the idea of power? No, says he, because "we are not conscious of the means by which it is effected.'' But, no one pretends to such knowledge; for it involves the nature of the union between soul and body, between spirit and matter; and if this is an objection to one instance 15* I 174 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. of knowledge derived through consciousness, it is an objection to all our knowledge derived thro' that source; for in no instance are we conscious of the modus ope- randi of mind. We are^conscious of thinking, and of controlling the current of our thoughts-, but of the means by which the operation is effected, or of the manner in which the brain is the organ of the mind, we are utterly ignorant: but will any man in his senses, pretend that we have no idea of thought, or of mind? — Such a notion would not be skepticism but consum- mate nonsense. We might just as well deny that we have any idea of perception, because we do not know the means of its operation; and thus shut up all sources of knowledge at once; for we have no more knowledge of the manner in which the mind communicates with the external world, than we have how it exercises power over our bodily organs. Throughout the whole of these objections, Mr. Hume seems to think that we cannot have an idea of any thing but what we can see and handle; that the only real ideas are those derived through the senses, for the language he apppiies t® consciousness, has no meaning except upon this sup- position. It will now appear how the doctrine of cause and effect is connected with the evidences of natural theo- logy. If the idea of power or cause is not derived from consciousness of power in ourselves, then the idea of the final cause or power is not derived ultimately from reflecting upon our own minds, and God cannot there- fore, be classed under the same genus or species with man,sothatwe can reason from the one to the other; and then all the evidences of natural theology jnust re&t THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 175 ultimately -upon the doctrine of customary conjunction. Upon this foundation the evidences of natural theology must fail; because we know of but one instance of conjunction between such a cause and effect, — the present creation; and the doctrine of customary ^con- junction, is that no one instance can suggest the idea of power, but that it requires many instances to do it. Mr. Hume, throughout his argument on a particular providence and a future state, covertly assumes this position, though he does not push it out to its ultimate conclusions; for it would go the full length of denying the existence of any God at all, which he seems to have avoided merely for the purpose of thereby better sustaining the skeptic character of never asserting any thing positively; for it is evident from his writings, that he foresaw this conclusion as resulting from his principles o£ evidence in regard to cause and effect. — His doctrine is, that cause and effect are nothiug more than the constant conjunction or succession of two f icts or phenomena; and that the antecedent fact does not produce or exercise any power over the sequent fact, and that in reality, there is no causation in such cases, but that it is the mere association of ideas aris- ing from the constant conjunction of the facts that leads us to imagine that there is an operating principle or power in the antecedent fact. We see by this mere statement, that if God be like a physical cause, he must according to Mr. Hume's doctrine be merely im- aginary, even if there were as many instances of con- junction between such a cause and its effect,as between any other cause and effect. This doctrine then leads to atheism; and does not stop short at a God of limited t 176 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. powers, as Mr. Hume has done In his essay on a Particular Providence and a Future State. But will it' make any material change in the theological doc- trine, if we consider the cause or antecedent fact as containing an operative principle which produces the effect or sequent fact?. If we liken God tc a blind a- gency in matter, such as this doctrine of cause and ef- fect teaches, we cannot upon any principle of sound induction, consider him any thing else than a mere vis forma tiva, operative through the universe, which is the doctrine of pantheism. "God," says Prof. Miche. let, a pantheist of Germany, "is the eternal movement of the universal principle constantly manifesting itself in individual existences, and which has no true object tive existence, but in these individuals which pass a- wav again into the infinite." To this notion of Go[',must the doctrine, that a physical cause contains an operas tive principle, lead, if we make causes the foundation of our inferences in regard to God. We see*, then, that upon neither doctrine of cause and effect, can God be likened to a physical cause; for the first leads to atheism, and the other to pantheism, which is in fact atheism too. But if we lay causation in conscious- ness, the evidences of natural theology are impregna- ble; because then, instead of being driven to the ne- cessity of confounding God with a mere physical cause, (bringing them under the same class) and reasoning from one to the other, we bring God under the same class (that of intelligent agents) with man, and reason from an intelligent agent to an intelligent agent. Be* cause in this view of causation, we resolve every me- chanical cause ultimately into the direct agencv of an 'THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 177 intelligent being; for the only instance of direct cau- sation of which we have any knowledge, is that of the exercise of force by ourselves and by other men, over matter. And this would perhaps be accounting for every instance of causation in the universe-, for so very large a portion of the phenomena of the universe have already been traced up to the exertion of mechanic;, 1 force, as to lead philosophers to believe, that mechani- cal force is the only cause capable of acting on material beings, and that, of course, ail other causes, when bet- ter understood, will be ascertained to be nothing more than the exercise of mechanical force. With this view then, ot causation, and basing the evidences of natural theology on the contrivances, adaptations of means to ends, the order and harmony of the universe, we have throughout the whole inquiry, — never losing sight of it for a moment — the idea that God is a per- sonal intelligent being, distinct from his creatures, both animate and inanimate, in his essence, and acts, and consciousness; and not a mere cause, of which the uni- verse is the phenomena. On this foundation, natural theology teaches the notion of such a God as we can address as "Our father who art in heaven." The argument of Mr. Hume, which we have been considering, is certainly subtle and ingenious in the ex- treme, but he views things too much through the little pin-hole of his skeptical creed, to let in u; on his mind, light from all parts of hissubject; and in presenting his partial views toothers, he gives them such bold relief" by the bright coloring of his admirable rhetoric, as to cast the other parts of his subjects, completely into the shade. In his philosophical writings, therefore, we i l J 78 THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. never see a complete picture; yet what we do see, exhibits the touches of a master; for however imper- fect the picture may be as a likeness, it has nothing of the daubing of the pretender. If what we have gleaned, from this field of evidence which has been harvested home by the master minds of the past and present century, shall contribute any thing; to the truths of natural theology, we will rejoice; for it were better that the sun were smitten from the firmament, and all creation covered in darkness, so that we could not read one word in the great book of nature, than that a false and impious philosophy should tear out the sacred chapter of final causes. If we did not know that some Christian philosophers excluded natural theology from amongst the sciences, we would have supposed such doctrine to be the mere offal of philosophy scraped up from around the style of some blasphemous infidel. What! God write a book in de- fence of atheism. It must be so 9 if nature tells nothing of him. Must creation cease to declare the glory of him who spread out the heavens, and will roll them up as a scroll? The desolate soul of the misanthrope athe- ist, may answer "yes;" but Newton has given the re- sponse of the true philosopher, THE END, 17 82 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: August 2004 PreservationTechnologies ^A A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION I 1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 f724l779-?111 ■r v^ V ^ •^