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ANALYSIS 
 
 OF THE PHENO.MENA OF THE 
 
 HUMAN MIND. 
 
6 
 AS- 
 
 I UHIVEHSIJ\ 
 \. LIBRARY . 
 
 "In order to prepare the way for a just and corapreliensive 
 system of Logic, a previous survey of our nature, considered as a 
 great wLole, is an indispensable requisite." — Fliiloso^phicallEssays 
 {^Prelim. Dissert.) p^ Isvii. h^ Dugald Stewart, ^^9i- 
 
 ""Would not Education be necessarily rendered more sys- 
 tematical and enlightened, if the powers and faculties on which 
 it operates were more scientifically examined, and better under- 
 stood ?" — Hid. p. xlviii. 
 
 [Right of Translation reserved.'] 
 
PREFACE 
 
 THE PRESENT EDITION. 
 
 In the study of Nature^ either mental or physical, the 
 aim of the scientific enquirer is to diminish as much 
 as possible the catalogue of ultimate truths. When, 
 without doing violence to facts, he is able to bring one 
 phenomenon within the laws of another ; when he can 
 shew that a fact or agency, which seemed to be original 
 and distinct, could have been produced by other known 
 facts and agencies, acting according to their own laws ; 
 the enquirer who has arrived at this result, considers 
 himself to have made an important advance in the 
 knowledge of nature, and to have brought science, in 
 that department, a step nearer to perfection. Other 
 accessions to science, however important practically, 
 are, in a scientific point of view, mere additions to the 
 materials : this is something done towards perfecting 
 the structure itself 
 
 The manner in which this scientific improvement 
 takes place is by the resolution of phenomena which 
 
VI PREFACE 
 
 are special and complex into others more general and 
 simple. Two cases of tins sort may be roughly dis- 
 tinguished, though the distinction between them will 
 not be found on accurate examination to be funda- 
 mental. In one case it is the order of the phenomena 
 that is analysed and simphfied ; in the other it is the 
 phenomena themselves. When the observed facts re- 
 lating to the weight of terrestrial objects, and those 
 relating to the motion of the heavenly bodies, were 
 found to conform to one and the same law, that of the 
 gravitation of every particle of matter to every other 
 particle with a force varying as the inverse square of 
 the distance, this was an example of the first kind. 
 The order of the phenomena was resolved into a more 
 general law. A great number of the successions which 
 take place in the material world were shewn to be parti- 
 cular cases of a law of causation pervading all Nature. 
 The other class of investigations are those which deal, 
 not with the successions of phenomena, but with the 
 complex phenomena themselves, and disclose to us that 
 the very fact which we are studying is made up of sim- 
 pler facts : as when the substance Water was found to 
 be an actual compound of two other bodies, hydrogen 
 and oxygen ; substances very unlike itself, but both 
 actually present in every one of its particles. By pro- 
 cesses like those employed in this case, all the variety 
 of substances which meet our senses and compose the 
 planet on which we Uve, have been shewn to be con- 
 
TO THE PRESENT EDITION. Vll 
 
 stituted by the intimate union, in a certain number of 
 fixed proportions, of some two or more of sixty or 
 seventy bodies, called Elements or Simple Substances, 
 by which is only meant that they have not hitherto 
 been found capable of further decomposition. This 
 last process is known by the name of chemical analysis : 
 but the first mentioned, of which the Newtonian gene- 
 ralization is the most perfect type, is no less analytical. 
 The difference is, that the one analyses substances into 
 simpler substances ; the other, laws into simpler laws. 
 The one is partly a physical operation ; the other is 
 wholly intellectual. 
 
 Both these processes are as largely apphcable, and 
 as much required, in the investigation of mental pheno- 
 mena as of material. And in the one case as in the 
 other, the advance of scientific knowledge may be 
 measured by the progress made in resolving complex 
 facts into simpler ones. 
 
 The phenomena of the Mind include multitudes of 
 facts, of an extraordinary degree of complexity. By 
 observing them one at a time with sufficient care, it 
 is possible in the mental, as it is in the material world, 
 to obtain empirical generalizations of limited compass, 
 but of great value for practice. When, however, we 
 find it possible to connect many of these detached 
 generahzations together, by discovering the more 
 general laws of which they are cases, and to the 
 operation of which in some particular sets of circum- 
 
VIU PKEFACE 
 
 stances they are due, we gain not only a scientific, but 
 a practical advantage ; for we then first learn how far 
 we can rely on the more hmited generalizations; 
 within what conditions their truth is confined ; by what 
 changes of circumstances they would be defeated or 
 modified. 
 
 Not only is the order in which the more complex 
 mental phenomena follow or accompany one another, 
 reducible, by an analysis similar in kind to the 
 Newtonian, to a comparatively small number of laws 
 of succession among simpler facts, connected as cause 
 and effect ; but the phenomena themselves can mostly 
 be shewn, by an analysis resembling those of chemis- 
 try, to be made up of simpler phenomena. '' In the 
 '^ mind of man," says Dr. Thomas Brown, in one of 
 his Introductory Lectures, " aU is in a state of con- 
 *' stant and ever- varying complexity, and a single 
 *' sentiment may be the slow result of innumerable 
 " feelings. There is not a single pleasure, or pain, or 
 " thought, or emotion, that may not, by the influence 
 '' of that associating principle which is afterwards to 
 " come under our consideration, be so connected with 
 *' other pleasures, or pains, or thoughts, or emotions 
 '' as to form with them, for ever after, an union the 
 ^' most intimate. The complex, or seemingly complex 
 ^' phenomena of thought, which result from the con- 
 " stant operation of this principle of the mind it is 
 " the labour of the intellectual inquirer to analyse as 
 
TO THE PRESENT EDITION. IX 
 
 "it is the labour of the chemist to reduce the com- 
 " pound bodies on which he operates, however close 
 *'and intimate their combination may be, to their 
 '* constituent elements. . . . From the very instant 
 " of its first existence, the mind is constantly exhibit- 
 ** ing phenomena more and more complex: sensations, 
 ' ' thoughts, emotions, all mingling together, and 
 " almost every feeling modifying, in some greater or 
 " less degree, the feelings that succeed it ; and as, in 
 "chemistry, it often happens that the qualities of 
 " the separate ingredients of a compound body are 
 "not recognizable by us in the apparently difie rent 
 " qualities of the compound itself, — so in this spon- 
 " taneous chemistry of the mind, the compound senti- 
 " ment that results from the association of former 
 " feelings has, in many cases, on first consideration, 
 ** so little resemblance to these constituents of it, as 
 " formerly existing in their elementary state, that it 
 " requires the most attentive reflection to separate, 
 "and evolve distinctly to others, the assemblages 
 " which even a few years may have produced." It is, 
 therefore, " scarcely possible to advance even a single 
 " step, in intellectual physics, without the necessity 
 "of performing some sort of analysis, by which we 
 "reduce to simpler elements some complex feeling 
 "that seems to us virtually to involve them." 
 
 These explanations define and characterize the task 
 which was proposed to himself by the author of the 
 voii. I. b 
 
PREFACE 
 
 present treatise, and which he concisely expressed by 
 naming his work an Analysis of the Phenomena of 
 the Human Mind. It is an attempt to reach the 
 simplest elements which by their combination gene- 
 rate the manifold complexity of our mental states, and 
 to assign the laws of those elements, and the elemen- 
 tary laws of their combination, from which laws, the 
 subordinate ones which govern the compound states 
 are consequences and corollaries. 
 
 The conception of the problem did not, of course, 
 originate with the author ; he merely applied to 
 mental science the idea of scientific inquiry which had 
 been matured by the successful pursuit, for many 
 generations, of the knowledge of external nature. 
 Even in the particular path by which he endeavoured 
 to reach the end, he had eminent precursors. The 
 analytic study of the facts of the human mind began 
 with Aristotle ; it was first carried to a considerable 
 height by Hobbes and Locke, who are the real 
 founders of that view of the Mind which regards the 
 greater part of its intellectual structure as having 
 been built up by Experience. These three philoso- 
 phers have all left their names identified with the 
 great fundamental law of Association of Ideas ; yet 
 none of them saw far enough to perceive that it is 
 through this law that Experience operates in mould- 
 ing our thoughts and forming our thinking powers. 
 Dr. Hartley was the man of genius who first clearly 
 
TO THE PRESENT EDITION. XI 
 
 discerned that this is the key to the explanation of 
 the more complex mental phenomena, though he, too, 
 was indebted for the original conjecture to an other- 
 wise forgotten thinker, Mr. Gay. Dr. Hartley's 
 treatise ("Observations on Man") goes over the whole 
 field of the mental phenomena, both intellectual and 
 emotional, and points out the way in which, as he 
 thinks, sensations, ideas of sensation, and association, 
 generate and account for the principal complications 
 of our mental nature. If this doctrine is destined to 
 be accepted as, in the main, the true theory of the 
 Mind, to Hartley will always belong the glory of 
 having originated it. But his book made scarcely any 
 impression upon the thought of his age. He incum- 
 bered his theory of Association with a premature 
 hypothesis respecting the physical mechanism of sen- 
 sation and thought ; and even had he not done so, his 
 mode of exposition was little calculated to make any 
 converts but such as were capable of working out the 
 system for themselves from a few hints. His book is 
 made up of hints rather than of proofs. It is like the 
 production of a thinker who has carried his doctrines 
 so long in his mind without communicating them, that 
 he has become accustomed to leap over many of the in- 
 termediate links necessary for enabling other persons 
 to reach his conclusions, and who, when at last he sits 
 down to write, is unable to recover them. It was 
 another great disadvantage to- Hartley's theory, that its 
 
 b2 
 
XU PREFACE 
 
 publication so nearly coincided with the commencement 
 of the reaction against the Experience psychology, pro- 
 voked by the hardy scepticism of Hume. From these 
 various causes, though the philosophy of Hartley never 
 died out, having been kept alive by Priestley, the elder 
 Darwin, and their pupils, it was generally neglected, 
 until at length the author of the present work gave 
 it an importance that it can never again lose. One 
 distinguished thinker, Dr. Thomas Brown, regarded 
 some of the mental phenomena from a point of view 
 similar to Hartley s, and all that he did for psycho- 
 logy was in this direction ; but he had read Hartley's 
 work either very superficially, or not at all : he seems 
 to have derived nothing from it, and though he made 
 some successful analyses of mental phenomena by 
 means of the laws of association, he rejected, or 
 ignored, the more searching applications of those laws; 
 
 resting content, when he arrived at the more difficult 
 
 * 
 
 problems, with mere verbal generalizations, such as 
 his fvitile explanations by what he termed ''relative 
 suggestion." Browns psychology was no outcome 
 of Hartley's ; it must be classed as an original but 
 feebler effort in a somewhat similar direction. 
 
 It is to the author of the present volumes that the 
 honour belongs of being the reviver and second 
 founder of the Association psychology. Great as is 
 this merit, it was but one among many services which 
 he rendered to his generation and to mankind. When 
 
TO THE PRESENT EDITION. XIU 
 
 the literary and philosophical history of this century 
 comes to be written as it deserves to be, very few are 
 the names figuring in it to whom as high a place will 
 be awarded as to James Mill. In the vigour and 
 penetration of his intellect he has had few superiors 
 in the history of thought : in the wide compass of the 
 human interests which he cared for and served, he was 
 almost equally remarkable : and the energy and deter- 
 mination of his character, giving effect to as single- 
 minded an ardour for the improvement of mankind 
 and of human life as I believe has ever existed, make 
 his life a memorable example. All his work as a 
 thinker was devoted to the service of mankind, either 
 by the direct improvement of their beliefs and senti- 
 ments, or by warring against the various influences 
 which he regarded as obstacles to their progress : and 
 while he put as much conscientious thought and 
 labour into everything he did, as if he had never done 
 anything else, the subjects on which he wrote took as 
 wide a range as if he had written without any laboiir 
 at all. That the same man should have been the 
 author of the History of India and of the present 
 treatise, is of itself sufficiently significant. The former 
 of those works, which by most men would have been 
 thought a sufficient achievement for a whole literary 
 life, may be said without exaggeration to have been 
 the commencement of rational thinking on the sub- 
 ject of India : and by that, and his subsequent 
 
xiv PREFACE 
 
 labours as an administrator of Indian interests under 
 the East India Company, he effected a great amount 
 of good, and laid the foundation of much more, to the 
 many millions of Asiatics for whose bad or good 
 government his country is responsible. The same 
 great work is fuU of far-reaching ideas on the prac- 
 tical interests of the world ; and while forming an 
 important chapter in the history and philosophy of 
 civilization (a subject which had not then been so 
 scientifically studied as it has been since) it is one of 
 the most valuable contributions yet made even to the 
 English history of the period it embraces. If, in 
 addition to the History and to the present treatise, 
 all the author's minor writings were collected ; the 
 outline treatises on nearly all the great branches of 
 moral and political science which he drew up for the 
 Supplement to the Encyclopaedia Brita.nni.ca, and 
 his countless contributions to many periodical works ; 
 although advanced thinkers have outgrown some of 
 his opinions, and include, on many subjects, in their 
 speculations, a wider range of considerations than his, 
 every one would be astonished at the variety of his 
 topics, and the abundance of the knowledge he ex- 
 hibited respecting them all. One of his minor ser- 
 vices was, that he was the first to put together in a 
 compact and systematic form, and in a manner adapted 
 to learners, the principles of Political Economv as 
 renovated by the genius of Ricardo : whose great 
 
TO THE PRESENT EDITION. XV 
 
 work, it may be mentioned by the way, would pro- 
 bably never have seen the light, if his intimate and 
 attached friend Mr. Mill had not encourao-ed and 
 urged him, first to commit to paper his profound 
 thoughts, and afterwards to send them forth to the 
 world. Many other cases might be mentioned in 
 which Mr. Mill s private and personal influence was a 
 means of doing good, hardly inferior to his pubhc 
 exertions. Though, like all who value their time for 
 higher purposes, he went little into what is called 
 society, he helped, encouraged, and not seldom 
 prompted, many of the men who were most useful in 
 their generation : from his obscure privacy he was 
 during many years of his life the soul of what is now 
 called the advanced Liberal party ; and such was the 
 effect of his conversation, and of the tone of his cha- 
 racter, on those who were within reach of its influence, 
 that many, then young, who have since made them- 
 selves honoured in the world by a valuable career, 
 look back to their intercourse with him as having had 
 a considerable share in deciding their course through 
 life. The most distinguished of them all, Mr. Grote, 
 has put on record, in a recent publication, his sense 
 of these obligations, in terms equally honourable to 
 both. As a converser, Mr. Mill has had few equals ; 
 as an argumentative converser, in modern times pro- 
 bably none. All his mental resources seemed to be 
 at his command at any moment, and were then freely 
 
XVI PREFACE 
 
 employed in removing difficulties which in his writings 
 for the pubUc he often did not thmk it worth while 
 to notice. To a logical acumen which has always 
 been acknowledged, he united a clear appreciation of 
 the practical side of things, for which he did not 
 always receive credit from those who had no personal 
 knowledge of him, but which made a deep impression 
 on those who were acquainted with the official cor- 
 respondence of the East India Company conducted by 
 him. The moral qualities which shone in his con- 
 versation were, if possible, more valuable to those who 
 had the privilege of sharing it, than even the intellec- 
 tual. They were precisely such as young men of 
 cultivated intellect, with good aspirations but a cha- 
 racter not yet thoroughly formed, are likely to derive 
 most benefit from. A deeply rooted trust in the 
 general progress of the human race, joined with a 
 good sense which made him never build unreasonable 
 or exaggerated hopes on any one event or contingency ; 
 an habitual estimate of men according to their real 
 worth as sources of good to their fellow- creatures, and 
 an unajffected contempt for the weaknesses or tempta- 
 tions that divert them from that object, — making 
 those with whom he conversed feel how painful it 
 would be to them to be counted by him among such 
 backsliders ; a sustained earnestness, in which neither 
 vanity nor personal ambition had any part, and which 
 spread from him by a sympathetic contagion to those 
 
TO THE PRESENT EDITION. XVU 
 
 who had sufficient moral preparation to value and 
 seek the opportunity ; this was the mixture of quali- 
 ties which made his conversation almost unrivalled in 
 its salutary moral effect. He has been accused of 
 asperity, and there was asperity in some few of his 
 writings ; but no party spirit, personal rivalry, or 
 wounded amour-propre ever stirred it up. Even when 
 he had received direct personal offence, he was the 
 most placable of men. The bitterest and ablest attack 
 ever pubhcly made on him was that which was the 
 immediate cause of the introduction of Mr. Macaulay 
 into public life. He felt it keenly at the time, but with 
 a quite impersonal feeling, as he would have felt any- 
 tliing that he thought unjustly said against any 
 opinion or cause which was dear to him ; and within 
 a very few years afterwards he was on terms of per- 
 sonal friendship with its author, as Lord Macaulay 
 himself, in a very creditable passage of the preface 
 to his collected Essays, has, in feeling terms, com- 
 memorated. 
 
 At an early period of Mr. Mill's philosophical life, 
 Hartley's work had taken a strong hold of his mind ; 
 and in the maturity of his powers he formed and 
 executed the purpose of following up Hartley's lead- 
 ing thought, and completing what that thinker had 
 begun. The result was the present work, which is 
 not only an immense advance on Hartley's in the 
 qualities which facihtate the access of recondite 
 
XVIU PREFACE 
 
 thoughts to minds to which they are new, but attains 
 an elevation far beyond Hartley's in the thoughts 
 themselves. Compared with it, Hartley's is little 
 more than a sketch, though an eminently suggestive 
 one : often rather showing where to seek for the 
 explanation of the more complex mental phenomena, 
 than actually explaining them. The present treatise 
 makes clear, much that Hartley left obscure : it pos- 
 sesses the great secret for clearness, though a secret 
 commonly neglected — it bestows an extra amount of 
 explanation and exemplification on the most ele- 
 mentary parts. It analyses many important mental 
 phenomena which Hartley passed over, and analyses 
 more completely and satisfactorily most of those of 
 which he commenced the analysis. In particular, the 
 author was the first who fully understood and ex- 
 pounded (though the germs of this as of all the rest 
 of the theory are in Hartley) the remarkable case of 
 Inseparable Association: and inasmuch as many of the 
 more difficult analyses of the mental phenomena can 
 only be performed by the aid of that doctrine, much 
 had been left for him to analyse. 
 
 I am "far from thinking that the more recondite 
 specimens of analysis in this work are always success- 
 ful, or that the author has not left something to be 
 corrected as well as much to be completed by his suc- 
 cessors. The completion has been especially the work 
 of two distinguished thinkers in the present genera- 
 
TO THE PRESENT EDITION. XIX 
 
 tion, Professor Bain and Mr. Herbert Spencer; in the 
 writings of both of whom, the Association Psychology 
 has reached a still higher development. The former 
 of these has favoured me with his invaluable colla- 
 boration in annotating the present work. In the 
 annotations it has been our object not only to illus- 
 trate and enforce, but to criticise, where criticism 
 seemed called for. What there is in the work that 
 seems to need correction, arises chiefly from two 
 causes. First, the imperfection of physiological 
 science at the time at which it was written, and the 
 much greater knowledge since acquired of the func- 
 tions of our nervous organism and their relations with 
 the mental operations. Secondly, an opening was 
 made for some mistakes, and occasional insufficiency 
 of analysis, by a mental quality which the author 
 exhibits not unfrequently in his speculations, though 
 as a practical thinker both on public and on private 
 matters it was quite otherwise ; a certain impatience 
 of detail. The bent of his mind was towards that, in 
 which also his greatest strength lay ; in seizing the 
 larger features of a subject — the commanding laws 
 which govern and connect many phenomena. Having 
 reached these, he sometimes gives himself up to the 
 current of thoughts which those comprehensive laws 
 suggest, not stopping to guard himself carefully in the 
 minutise of their application, nor devoting much of 
 his thoughts to anticipating all the objections that 
 
XX PREFACE 
 
 could be made, though the necessity of replying to 
 some of them might have led him to detect imperfec- 
 tions in his analyses. From this cause (as it appears 
 to me), he has occasionally gone further in the pursuit 
 of simplification, and in the reduction of the more 
 recondite mental phenomena to the more elementary, 
 than I am able to follow him ; and has left some of 
 his opinions open to objections, which he has not 
 afforded the means of answering. When this appeared 
 to Mr. Baui or myself to be the case, we have made 
 such attempts as we were able to place the matter in 
 a clearer light ; and one or other, or both, have sup- 
 plied what our own. investigations or those of others 
 have provided, towards correctiag any shortcomings 
 in the theory. 
 
 Mr. Findlater, of Edinburgh, Editor of Chambers* 
 Cyclopsedia, has kindly communicated, from the 
 rich stores of his philological knowledge, the cor- 
 rections required by the somewhat obsolete philology 
 which the author had borrowed from Home Tooke. 
 For the rectification of an erroneous statement respect- 
 ing the relation of the Aristotelian doctrine of General 
 Ideas to the Platonic, and for some other contributions 
 in which historical is combined with philosoplaical in- 
 terest, I am indebted to the illustrious historian of 
 Greece and of the Greek philosophy. Mr. Grote's, Mr. 
 Bain's and Mr. Fiudlater s notes ai^e distinguished by 
 their initials ; my own, as those of the Editor. 
 
TO THE PRESENT EDITION. XXI 
 
 The question presented itself, whether the annota- 
 tions would be most useful, collected at the end of the 
 work, or appended to the chapters or passages to which 
 they more particularly relate. Either plan has its re- 
 commendations, but those of the course which I have 
 adopted seemed to me on the whole to preponderate. 
 The reader can, if he thinks fit, (and, if he is a real 
 student, I venture to recommend that he should do 
 so) combine the advantages of both modes, by giving 
 a first careful reading to the book itself, or at all 
 events to every successive chapter of the book, with- 
 out paying any attention to the annotations. No 
 other mode of proceeding will give perfectly fair play 
 to the author, whose thoughts will in this manner 
 have as full an opportunity of impressingthemselves on 
 the mind, without having their consecutiveness broken 
 in upon by any other person's thoughts, as they would 
 have had if simply republished without comment. 
 When the student has done all he can with the 
 author's own exposition — has possessed himself of 
 the ideas, and felt, perhaps, some of the difficulties, he 
 will be in a better position for profiting by any aid 
 that the notes may afford, and will be in less danger 
 of accepting, without due examination, the opinion of 
 the last comer as the best. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIEST VOLUME. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Introduction 1 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Sensation 2 
 
 Section 1. Smell 7 
 
 2. Hearing 16 
 
 3. Sight 21 
 
 4. Taste 25 
 
 5. Touch 28 
 
 6. Sensations of Disorganization, . or of the Ap- 
 
 proach to Disorganization, in any part of 
 
 the Body 37 
 
 7. Muscular Sensations, or those Feelings which 
 
 accompany the Action of the Muscles ... 40 
 
 8. Sensations in the Alimentary Canal .... 45 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 Ideas 51 1^ 
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 The Association of Ideas 70 "^7 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Naming 127 
 
 Section 1. Nouns Substantive I34 
 
 2. Nouns Adjective I44 
 
 3. Verbs I5I 
 
 4. Predication I59 
 
XXIV CONTENTS. 
 
 FAGB 
 
 Section 5. Pronouns 194: 
 
 6. Adverbs 199 
 
 7. Prepositions 201 
 
 8. Conjunctions 212 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Consciousness 223 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Conception 233 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 Imagination 238 
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 Classification 247 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Abstraction 294 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Memory ^ ^ g2g 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 Belief oai 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Ratiocination ^04. 
 
 CHAPTER Xm. ' ' 
 
 Evidence ^^3 
 
 Appendix .... , , „ 
 
 440 
 
ANALYSIS 
 
 ETC. 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 " I shall inquire into the original of tlioge ideas, notions, or 
 whatever else you please to call them, which a man observes and 
 is conscious to himself he has in his mind; and the ways 
 whereby the uaderstanding comes to be furnished with them." 
 
 Locke, i. 1,'3. 
 
 Philosophical inquiries into the haman mind have 
 for their main, and ultimate object, the exposition of 
 its more complex phenomena. 
 
 It is necessary, however, that the simple should be 
 premised ; because they are the elements of which the 
 complex are formed ; and because a distinct know- 
 ledge of the elements is indispensable to an accurate 
 conception of that which is compounded of them. 
 
 The feelings which we have through the external 
 senses are the most simple, at least the most familiar, 
 of the mental phenomena. Hence the propriety of 
 commencing with this class of our feelings. 
 
 VOL. L B 
 
SENSATION. [chap. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SENSATION. 
 
 '* I shall not at present meddle with the physical consideration 
 of the mind, or trouble myself to esamiue wherein its essence 
 consists ; or by what motions of our spirits, or alterations of our 
 bodies, we come to have any Sensation by our organs, or any 
 Ideas in our understandings ; and whether those ideas do in 
 their formation, any or all of them, depend on matter or no. 
 These are speculations which, however curious and entertaining^ 
 I shall decline, as lying out of my way in the design I am now 
 upon." — Locke, i. 1, 2. 
 
 My object, in what I shall say respecting the 
 phenomena classed under the head of sensation, is, 
 to lead such of my readers as are new to this species 
 of inquuy to conceive the feeHngs distinctly. All 
 men are familiar with them ; but this very familiarity, 
 as the mind runs easily from one well known object to 
 another, is a reason why the boundary between them 
 and other feelings is not always observed. It is 
 necessary, therefore, that the learner should by 
 practice acquire the habit of reflecting upon his 
 Sensations, as a distinct class of feelings ; and should 
 be hence prepared to mark well the distinction 
 between them and other states of mmd, when he 
 
CHAP, i.j SENSATION. 3 
 
 advances to the analysis of the more mysterious 
 phenomena. 
 
 What we commonly mean, when we use the terms 
 Sensation or phenomena of Sensation, are the feelings 
 which we have by the five senses, — smell, taste, 
 HEAKING, TOUCH, and SIGHT. These are thefeehngsfrom 
 which we derive our notions of what we denominate 
 the external world ; — the things by which we are 
 surrounded : that is, the antecedents of the most 
 interesting consequents, in the whole series of feelings, 
 which constitute our mental train, or existence. 
 
 The feelings, however, which belong to the five 
 external Senses are not a full enumeration of the 
 feelings which it seems proper to rank under the 
 head of Sensations, and which must be considered as 
 bearing an important part in those complicated pheno- 
 mena, which it is our principal business, in this 
 inquiry, to separate into their principal elements, and 
 explain. Of these unnamed, and generally unre- 
 garded. Sensations, two principal classes may be dis- 
 tinguished : — first, Those which accompany the action 
 of the several muscles of the body ; and, secondly. 
 Those which have their place in the Alimentary 
 Canal. ^ 
 
 ^ Important points of Psychology are raised ia classifying 
 the senses, and in assigning the order of their exposition. 
 The author justly animadverts on the insufficiency of the 
 common enumeration of the Five Senses, and indicates two 
 grand omissions — the Muscular Sensibilities, and the feelings 
 associated with Digestion. 
 
 With regard to the first omission — the Muscular Feelinos, — 
 a further advance has been found requisite. Instead of adding 
 these to the list, as a sixth sense, they are made a genus apart, 
 
 B 2 
 
4 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 and put in contrast to the Sensations as commonly understood. 
 They are the feehngs of our Activity, of the Active side of 
 our nature, and are in relation to the Motor or Outcarrying 
 nerves of the body. The Sensations proper, such as Smell 
 and Hearing, are the feelings of our RECEPTIVITY, or Passivity, 
 and arise in connection with the Sentient, or Incarrying 
 nerves. In the exercise of the senses, however, a muscular 
 element is almost always combined. This is conspicuous in 
 Touch, which is most frequently accompanied with movements 
 of the hand, or other parts touched ; it is also the case with 
 Sight, there being six muscles constantly engaged in moving 
 the eye-ball. There is least muscularity in Hearing and 
 Smell, but in neither is it wholly absent. Thus in Hearing, 
 there are certain small muscles for adjusting the tightness of 
 the membrane of the tympanum ; apart from which, there are 
 movements of the head in conjunction with hearing. So in 
 Smell ; the sniffing action with the breath is muscular. Never- 
 theless, it is easy to separate, in all the senses, the passive and 
 proper sensibility of the sense, (called by Hamilton the idio- 
 ■pathic sensibility) from the active accompaniment. We can 
 make experiments upon passive touch, or pure contact ; we 
 can isolate in our consciousness the optical sensibility of the 
 eye ; we can eliminate activity from the ear; and we can attend 
 to the sensations of smell in their pure passivity. 
 
 The best course of proceeding is to deal with Muscularity 
 apart, in the first instance, and to give it the priority in the 
 order of exposition. Chronologically it is an earlier fact of 
 our being ; we move before we feel ; there is an inborn energy 
 of action in the animal system, which goes out, as it were, 
 and meets the objects of sensation. This is one reason of 
 priority. Another is the fact just stated that movement 
 accompanies all the senses, or is a common factor in sensation. 
 To discuss its peculiar sensibility is thus a preparation for 
 treating of the senses. 
 
 The importance of drawing a broad line between the active 
 and the passive branches of our primary sensibilities is seen in 
 various applications, but most especially in the problem of 
 
CHAP. I.J SENSATION, 5 
 
 External Perception. The great distinction that this problem 
 requires us to draw between the external and the internal 
 sides of our being (so described by an imperfect metaphor) 
 has its deepest foundation in the distinction between the sense 
 of expended muscular energy and the feelings that are neither 
 energy in themselves, nor vary definitely according to our 
 energies. The qualities of things admitted on all hands to be 
 qualities of the external (or object) world — called the Primary 
 Qualities, — Eesistance and Extension, — are modes of our 
 muscular energies ; the qualities that do not of themselves 
 suggest externality, or objectivity, — the secondary qualities, as 
 Heat, Colour, &c. — are our passive sensibilities, and do not 
 contain muscular energy. When these secondary qualities 
 enter into definite connections with our movements, they are 
 then referred to the external, or object world. Light and 
 colour, when varying definitely with our various movements, 
 as postures and actions, are from that circumstance referred to 
 the external, or non-ego ; without such connections they would 
 be called internal or subjective states. 
 
 The contrasted terms 'Object' and 'Subject' are the least 
 exceptionable for expressing the fundamental antithesis of 
 consciousness and of existence. Matter and Mind, Ex-ternal 
 and Internal, are the popular synonyms, but are less free from 
 misleading suggestions. Extension is the Object fact by 
 pre-e ninence ; Pleasure and Pain are the most marked phases 
 of pure Subjectivity. Between the consciousness of extension 
 and the consciousness of a pleasure there is the broadest line 
 that can be drawn within the human experience ; the broadest 
 distinction in the whole universe of being. These then are 
 the Object and Subject extremes ; and, in the final analysis, 
 the object extreme appears to be grounded on the feeling of 
 expended muscular energy. 
 
 The second omission alluded to is the Digestive Sensibility, 
 which ought undoubtedly to be included among sensations, 
 having all the constituents of a sense ; an object — the food ; 
 a sensitive organ — the stomach ; and a characteristic form of 
 sensibility or feeling. The author farther takes notice of 
 
6 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 ' Sensations of Disorganization, or of the approach to Dis- 
 organization, in any part of the body/ which too deserve to be 
 rt^ckoned among mental facts. He might farther have adverted 
 to the acute and depressing feelings of the Lungs, in case of 
 partial suffocation, with the exhilaration attending the relief 
 from such a state^ and the change from a close to a fresh at- 
 mosphere. Moreover, there are states of purely physical 
 comfort, associated with a vigorous circulation, with healthy 
 innervation, with the proper action of the skin ; and feelings 
 of discomfort and depression from the opposite states. A slight 
 allusion to these various feelings occurs in chapter second 
 towards the close. 
 
 These various modes of sensibility seem to be fitly grouped 
 together under the common head of Sensations of Organic 
 Life : their detail being arranged according to the several 
 organs— viz. — the Alimentary Canal, Lungs, Circulation, 
 Nervous System, &c. These would make a sixth Sense pro- 
 perly so called, or a departnient of passive sensibility.—^. 
 
SECT. I.] SMELL, 
 
 SECTION I 
 
 SMELL. 
 
 It is not material to the present purpose in what 
 order we survey the subdivisions of this elementary 
 class of the mental phenomena. It will be convenient 
 to take those first, which can be most easily thought 
 of by themselves ; that is, of which a conception, free 
 from the mixture of any extraneous ingredient, can be 
 most certainly formed. For this reason we begin 
 
 with SMELL.' 
 
 ^ « 
 
 ^ The order of exposition of the senses is not a matter of 
 indifference. The author, like Condillac, selected Smell to 
 begin with, as being a remarkably simple and characteristic 
 feeling ; he has found another expository advantage in it, by 
 disturbing our routine mode of regarding the intellect as prin- 
 cipally made up of sensations of sight. It has a startling effect 
 on the reader, to suggest a mental life consisting wholly of 
 smells and ideas of smell. 
 
 There are two principles of arrangement of the senses, each 
 good for its own purpose ; it being understood that the active 
 or muscular sensibility is taken apart from, and prior to, sensa- 
 tion proper. 
 
 The first is to take them in the order of Intellectual develop- 
 ment. Some of the senses are evidently intellectual in a high 
 degree, as Sight and Hearing, others are intellectual in a much 
 smaller degree, as Smell and Taste. The organic sensations 
 are still less connected with the operations of the intellect. 
 Many of the least intellectual sensations are remarkably intense, 
 as pleasure and pain ; perhaps more so than the intellectually 
 higher class. The organic pains are more unendurable than 
 
8 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 In the Smell three things are commonly distin- 
 guished. There is the organ, there is the sensation, 
 and there is the antecedent of the Sensation, the ex- 
 
 the worst paius of hearing or of sight, unless these are 
 assimilated to the other class, by injury of the organs. 
 
 The intellectual superiority of the higher senses shows itself 
 in two ways, the one strictly iu the domain of Intellect, the 
 other in the domain of Feeling. As regards Intellect, it is 
 shown in the predominance of the ideas of the higher senses. 
 Our intellectual or ideal trains, the materials of thought and 
 knowledge, are made up most of all of ideas of sight, next of 
 ideas of hearing, to a less degree of ideas of touch or skin 
 contact, and, least of all, of ideas of stomach -md luog sensations 
 or other organic states. The trains of tlie scientific man, of 
 the man of business, and even of the handicraft worker, are 
 almost entirely made up of ideas of sight and of hearing (with 
 active or muscular ideas). Our understanding of the order of 
 nature, our very notion of the material universe, is a vast and 
 complex scheme of ideas of sight. 
 
 The intellectual superiority of the higher senses in the 
 domain of Feeling is connected with the remembrance or ideal 
 persistence of pleasures and pains. The pleasures of Digestion 
 are weakly and ineffectively remembered, in the absence of the 
 actuahty. The pleasures of Smell are remembered better. The 
 pleasures and pains of Hearing and Sight are remembered best 
 of any. This gives them a higher value in life; the addition 
 made to the actual, by the ideal, is, in their case, the greatest 
 of all. They are said, for this among other reasons, to be 
 more refined. 
 
 The arrangement dictated by the gradation of intellectua- 
 lity would be as follows : — 1. Sensations of Organic Life. 
 2. Taste. 3. Smell. 4. Touch. 5. Hearing. 6. Sioht. 
 
 The second principle of arrangement starts with Touch as 
 the most simple in its mode of action, and the most diffused in 
 its operation. Touch consists in mere mechanical pressure on 
 a sensitive siirface ; this is the most simple and elementary of 
 
SECT. 1.] SMELL. 9 
 
 ternal object, as it is commonly denominated,* to 
 wliicii the Sensation is referred as an effect to its 
 cause. 
 
 These three distinguishable particulars are common 
 to all the five Senses. With regard to the organ, 
 which is a physical rather than a mental subject of 
 inquiry, I shall have occasion to say little more than 
 is required to make my reader distinguish, with 
 sufficient accuracy, the part of his body to which the 
 
 all stimuli. The other senses are regarded as specialised 
 modifications of Touch. 
 
 In Hearing-, the mode of action is touch or mechanical con- 
 tact. In the remaining senses, the contact is accompanied with 
 other forces. Taste and Smell involve chemical chauoe, as well 
 as contact. The action of Light on the eye is probably some 
 species of molecular disturbance involving chemical action. 
 This mode of viewing the order and dependence of the senses 
 belongs more especially to the theory of the development of 
 the organic system, which is made prominent in the Psychology 
 of Mr. Herbert Spencer. The arrangement might be variously 
 expressed ; — it might be Touch, Hearing, Sight, Taste, Smell, 
 Organic Sensibility ; or Touch, Hearing, Taste, Smell, Organic 
 Sensibility, Sight. — B. 
 
 * It is necessary here to observe, that I use, throughout 
 this Inquiry, the language most commonly in use. This is 
 attended with its disadvantages; for on the subject of mind 
 the ordinary language almost always involves more or less of 
 theory, which may or may not appear to me to correspond with 
 the true exposition of the phenomena. The advantages, how- 
 ever, of not departing from familiar terms still appeared to me 
 to preponderate ; and I am willing to hope, that such erroneous 
 suggestions, as are sometimes inseparable from the language 
 I have thought it best upon the whole to employ, will be cor- 
 rected, without any particular notice, by the analysis which I 
 shall present. — [Author's Note.) 
 
10 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 separate feelings of his five Senses belong. And with 
 regard to the antecedent of the Sensation, or object 
 of the Senses, the proper place for explaining what is 
 capable of being known of it is at a subsequent part 
 of this inquiry. My desire at present is, to fix the 
 attention of the reader upon the sensation ; that he 
 may mark it as a mental state of a particular kind, 
 distinct from every other feehng of his nature. 
 
 The ORGAN of Smell, as every body knows, is 
 situated in the mouth and nostrils, or in the nerves, 
 appropriated to smelling, which are found in the 
 passage between the mouth and nostrils, and in the 
 vicinity of that passage. 
 
 Though it appears to be ascertained that the nerves 
 are necessary to sensation, it is by no means ascer- 
 tained in what way they become necessary. It is a 
 mystery how the nerves, similar in all parts of the 
 body, afford us, in one place, the sensation of sound ; 
 in another, the sensations of light and colours ; in 
 another, those of odours, in another those of flavours, 
 and tastes, and so on. 
 
 With respect to the external object, as it is usually 
 denominated, of this particular sense ; in other words, 
 the antecedent^ of which the Sensation Smell is the 
 consequent ; it is, in vulgar apprehension, the visible, 
 tangible object, from which the odour proceeds. Thus, 
 we are said to smell a rose, when we have the sensa- 
 tion derived from the odour of the rose. It is more 
 correct Janguage, however, to say, that we smell the 
 odorous particles which proceed from the visible, 
 tangible object, than that we smell the object itself; 
 for, if any thing prevents the odorous particles, which 
 the body emits, from reaching the organ of smell, the 
 
SECT. I.J SMELL. 11 
 
 sensation is not obtained. The object of the sense of 
 smelling then are odorous particles, which only 
 operate, or produce the sensation, when they reach 
 the organ of smell. 
 
 But what is meant by odorous particles we are still 
 in ignorance. Something, neither visible nor tangible, 
 is conveyed, through the air, to the olfactory nerves ; 
 but of this something we know no more than that it 
 is the antecedent of that nervous change, or variety of 
 consciousness, which we denote by the word smell. 
 
 Still farther, When we say that the odorous par- 
 ticles, of which we are thus ignorant, reach the nerves 
 which constitute the organ of smell, we attach hardly 
 any meaning to the word reach. We know not 
 whether the particles in question produce their effect, 
 by contact, or without contact. As the nerves in 
 every part of the body are covered, we know not how 
 any external particles can reach them. We know not 
 whether such particles operate upon the nerves, by 
 their own, or by any other influence ; the galvanic, for 
 example, or electrical, influence. 
 
 These observations, with regard to the organ of 
 smell, and the object of smell, are of importance, 
 chiefly as they show us how imperfect our knowledge 
 still is of all that is merely corporeal in sensation, and 
 enable us to fix our attention more exclusively upon 
 that which &.lone is material to our subsequent in- 
 quiries — that point of consciousness which we deno- 
 nominate the sensation of smell, the mere feeling, 
 detached from every thing else. 
 
 When we smell a rose, there is a particular feeling, 
 a particular consciousness, distinct from all others, 
 which we mean to denote, when we call it the smell 
 
12 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 of the rose. In like manner we speak of the smell of 
 hay, the smell of turpentine, and the smell of a fox. 
 We also speak of good smells, and bad smells ; mean- 
 ing by the one, those which are agreeable to us ; by 
 the other, those v^hich are offensive. In all these 
 cases what we speak of is a point of consciousness, a 
 thing which we can describe no otherwise than by 
 calUng it a feeling ; a part of that series, that succes- 
 sion, that flow of something, on account of which we 
 call ourselves living or sensitive ci*eatures. 
 
 We can distinguish this feeling, this consciousness, 
 the sensation of smell, from every other sensation. 
 Smell and Sound are two very different things ; so are 
 smell and sis^ht. The smell of a rose is different from 
 the colour of the rose ; it is also different from the 
 smoothness of the rose, or the sensation we have by 
 touching the rose. 
 
 We not only distinguish the sensations of smell 
 from those of the other senses, but we distinguish the 
 sensations of smell from one another. The smell of 
 a rose is one sensation ; the smell of a violet is another. 
 The difference we find between one smell and another 
 is in some cases very great ; between the smell 
 of a rose, for example, and that of carrion or assa- 
 foetida. 
 
 The number of distinguishable smells is very great. 
 Almost every object in nature has a peculiar smell ; 
 every animal, every plant, and almost every mineral. 
 Not only have the different classes of objects different 
 smells, but probably different individuals in the same 
 class. The different smells of different individuals are 
 perceptible, to a certain extent, even by the human 
 organs, and to a much greater extent by those of the 
 
SECT. I.] SMELL. 13 
 
 dog, and other animals, whose sense of smelhng is 
 more acute. 
 
 We can conceive ourselves, as endowed with smell- 
 ing, and not enjoying any other faculty. In that 
 case, we should have no idea of objects as seeable, as 
 hearable, as touchable, or tasteable. We should have 
 a train of smells ; the smell at one time of the rose, at 
 another of the violet, at another of carrion, and so on. 
 The successive points of consciousness, composing our 
 sentient being, would be mere smells. Our life would 
 be a train of smells, and nothing more. Smell, and 
 Life, would be two names for the same thing. 
 
 The terms which our language supplies, for speak- 
 ing of this sense, are exceedingly imperfect. It would 
 obviously be desirable to have, at any rate, distinct 
 names for the organ, for the object, and for the sensa- 
 tion ; and that these names should never be con- 
 founded. It happens, unfortunately, that the word 
 SMELL is applicable to all the three. That the word 
 smell expresses, both the quality, as we vulgarly say, 
 of the object smelt; and also the feeling of him by 
 whom it is smelt, every one is aware. If you ask 
 whether the smell, when I hold a violet to my nos- 
 trils, is in me or in the violet, it would be perfectly 
 proper to say, in both. The same thing, however, is 
 not in both, though the two things have the same 
 name. What is in me is the sensation, the feeling, 
 the point of consciousness ; and that can be in no- 
 thing but a sentient being. What is in the rose, is 
 what I call a quality of the rose ; in fact, the antece- 
 dent of my sensation ; of which, beside its being the 
 antecedent of my sensation, I know nothing. If I 
 were speaking of a place in which my senses had been 
 
14 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 variously affected, and should say, that, along with 
 other pleasures, I had enjoyed a succession of the most 
 delightful smells, I should be understood to speak of 
 my sensations. If I were speaking of a number of 
 unknown objects, and should say of one, that it had a 
 smell like that of honey ; of another, that it had a 
 smell like that of gaiiick ; I should be understood as 
 speaking of the object of each sensation, a quality of 
 the thing smelt. 
 
 The word smell, beside denoting the sensation and 
 the object, denotes also the organ, in such phrases as 
 the following; *' Sight and Hearing are two of the 
 inlets of my knowledge, and Smell is a third ;" 
 *^ The faculty by which I become sensible of odour is 
 my Smell. "^ 
 
 3 It may be questioned whether, in the phrases here cited, 
 the word Smell stands for the olfactory organ. It would 
 perhaps be most correct to say, that in these cases it denotes 
 the abstract capacity of smelling, rather than the concrete 
 ph3;sica] instrument. Even when smell is said to be one of 
 the five senses, it may fairly be doubted whether a part of the 
 meaning intended is, that it is one of the five organs of sensa- 
 tion. Nothing more seems to be meant, than that it is one of 
 five distinguishable modes of having sensations, whatever the 
 intiinsic difference between those modes may be. 
 
 In the author's footnote he recognises that the abstract 
 power of smelling enters into this particular application of the 
 word Smell ; and refers to a subsequent part of the treatise for 
 the meaning of Power. But he thinks that along with the 
 power, or as part of the conception of Power, the material 
 organ is also signified. It seems to me that the organ does 
 not enter in either of these modes, into the si<7nification of 
 the word. We can imagine ourselves ignorant that we possess 
 physical organs ; or aware that we possess them, but not 
 
SECT. I.] SMELL. 15 
 
 In the phrases in wliich smell is called a sense, as 
 when we say, that smell is one of the five senses, there 
 is considerable complexity. The term here imports 
 the organ, it imports the sensation, and, in a certain 
 way, it imports also the object. It imports the organ 
 as existing continuously, the sensation as existing 
 only under a certain condition, and that condition the 
 presence of the object. "^^ 
 
 aware that our sensations of smell are connected with them. 
 Yet on either of these suppositions the *' power of smelling'' 
 would be perfectly intelligible, and would have the same mean- 
 ing to us which it has now. — EcL 
 
 ^ It will naturally occur to some of my readers, that, in 
 the term sense of smelling, the idea of power is also included. 
 They will say, that when we speak of the sense of smelling, 
 we mean not only the organ, but the function of the organ, or 
 its power of producing a certain effect. This is undoubtedly 
 true ; but when the real meaning of the language is evolved, 
 it only amounts to that which is delivered in the text. For 
 what does any person mean when he says that, in the sense of 
 smelling, he has the power of smelling ? Only this, that he 
 has an organ, and that when the object of that organ is pre- 
 sented to it, sensation is the consequence. In all this, there 
 is nothing but the organ, the object, and the sensation, con- 
 ceived in a certain order. This will more fully appear when 
 the meaning of the relative terms, cause and effect, has been 
 explained. — (Author s Note.) 
 
16 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 HEARING. 
 
 In Hearing, the same three particulars, the ORGAN, 
 the OBJECT, and the feeling, require to be dis- 
 tinguished. 
 
 The name of the organ is the Ear ; and its nice 
 and complicated structure has been described with 
 minuteness and admiration by anatomists and phy- 
 siologists. 
 
 In vulgar discourse, the object of our Sense of 
 Hearing is a sounding body. We say that we hear 
 the bell, the trumpet, the cannon. This language, 
 however, is not correct. That which precedes the 
 feeling received through the ear, is the approach of 
 vibrating air to the ear. Certain bodies, made to 
 vibrate in a certain way, communicate vibrations to 
 the air, and the vibrating air, admitted into the ear, 
 is followed by the sensation of hearing. If the air 
 which the body makes to vibrate does not enter the 
 ear, however the body itself may vibrate, sensation 
 does not follow ; hearing does not take place. There 
 is, in fact, no sound. Of the circumstances in which 
 sound is generated, part only were present. There 
 was the organ, and there was the object, but not that 
 juxta-position which is needed to make the antece- 
 df^nt of the sensation complete. Air vibratino* in 
 juxta-position to the organ, is the object of Hearing. 
 
 How air in vibration should produce the remark- 
 
SECT. II. J HEARING. 17 
 
 able effect, called hearing, in the nerves of the ear, 
 and no effect in those of the eye, in those of smelling, 
 or those of taste, our knowledge does not enable us 
 to tell. 
 
 It is not very difficult to think of the sensation of 
 hearing, apart from the organ, and from the object, as 
 well as from every other feeling. I hear the hum of 
 bees. The feeling to which I give this name is a 
 point of my own consciousness ; it is an elementary 
 part of my sensitive being ; of that thread of con- 
 sciousness, drawn out in succession, which I call my- 
 self I have the hearing; it is a sensation of my 
 own ; it is my feeling, and no other man's feeling ; 
 it is a very different feeling from taste, and a very 
 different feeling from smell, and from all my other 
 feelings. 
 
 I hear the song of birds, I hear the lowing of oxen, 
 I hear the sighing of the wind, I hear the roaring of 
 the sea. I have a feeling, in each of these cases ; a 
 consciousness, which I can distinguish not only from 
 the feelings of my other senses, but from the other 
 feelings of the same sense. If I am asked, what 
 takes place in me, when a trumpet is unexpectedly 
 sounded in the next room, I answer, a sensation, a 
 particular feeling. I become conscious in a particular 
 way. 
 
 The number of those feelings which we are able to 
 distinguish is very great. In this respect, the organ 
 of hearing in man, is much more perfect than the 
 organ of smell. The organ of hearing can distinguish, 
 not only the voices of different classes, but of different 
 individuals in the same class. There never, probably, 
 
 VOL. I. c 
 
18 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 was a man whose voice was not distinguishable from 
 that of every other man, by those who were familiarly 
 acquainted with it. 
 
 The most simple case of sound is that perhaps of a 
 single note on a musical instrument. This note may 
 be sounded on an endless number of instruments, and 
 by an endless number of human voices, from no two 
 of which will the same sound exactly be returned. 
 
 We can think of ourselves as having the feelings 
 of this class, and having no other. In that case, our 
 whole being would be a series of Hearings. It would 
 be one sensation of hearmof, another sensation of 
 hearing, and nothing more. Our thread of conscious- 
 ness would be the sensation, which we denominate 
 sound. Life and sound would be two names for the 
 same thing. 
 
 The language by which we speak of the '' sense of 
 hearing," is also imperfect. We have, indeed, the 
 term Ear, to express the ORGAN, but we have no ap- 
 propriate name for the sensation, nor for the object. 
 The term sound is a name both of the sensation a,nd 
 the object. If I were asked, when the belh rings, 
 whether the sound is in me, or in the beU, I might 
 answer, in both ; not that the same thing is in both ; 
 the things are different ; having the same name. The 
 sensation called a sound is in me, the vibration called 
 a sound is in the bell. Hearing is equally ambio-uous ; 
 a name both of the organ and the feeling. If asked 
 by which of my organs I have the knowledge of 
 sound, I should answer, my hearing. Aiad if asked 
 what feeling it is I have by the ear, I still should say, 
 hearing. Hearing is rarely made use of to denote 
 
SECT. II.] HEARING. 19 
 
 the object of hearing, and hardly at all except by 
 figure. 
 
 Noise is a name which denotes the object, in cer- 
 tain cases. There is a certain class of sounds, to which 
 we give the name noise. In those cases, however, 
 noise is also the name of the sensation. In fact, it is 
 the name of the sensation first, and only by transfer- 
 ence that of the object. 
 
 In the phrase, sense of hearing, the word has the 
 same complexity of meaning, which we found in the 
 word smelling, in the corresponding application of that 
 term. When I say that I have the sense of hearing, 
 I mean to say, that I have an organ, which organ has 
 an appropriate object ; and that when the organ and 
 the object are in the appropriate position, the sensa- 
 tion of hearing is the consequent. In the term, senso 
 of hearing, then, is included, the oi"gan, the object, and 
 the sensation, with the idea of a synchronous order 
 of the two first, and a successive order of the third. 
 *' Sense of hearing" is thus seen to be the name of a 
 very complex idea, including five distinguishable ingre- 
 dients, the idea of the organ of hearing, the idea of 
 the sensation, the idea of the object of hearing, the 
 idea of a synchronous ordei", and the idea of a suc- 
 cessive order. ^ 
 
 * In the case of hearing, as of smell, one of the ambiguities 
 brought to notice by the author is of questionable reality. It 
 is doubtful if " hearing" is ever used as a name of the organ. 
 To the question supposed in the text, " by which of my organs 
 do I have the knowledge of sound" the correct answer would 
 surely be, not " my hearing" — an expression which^ so 
 
 c 2 
 
20 SENSATION- [chap. t. 
 
 applied, could only be accepted as elliptical, — but " my organ 
 of hearing," or (still better) *' my ear." Again, the phrase " T 
 have the sense of hearing'' signifies that I have a capacity of 
 hearing, and that this capacity is classed as one of sensSf or 
 in other words, that the feelings to which it has reference 
 belong to the class Sensations : but the organ, though a 
 necessary condition- of my having the sensations, does not 
 seem to be implied in the name, — Ed, 
 
SECT. III.J SIGHT. 21 
 
 SECTION III 
 
 SIGHT. 
 
 In SIGHT, the organ is very conspicuous, and has an 
 appropriate name, the Eye. 
 
 In ordinary language, the object of sight is the 
 body which is said to be seen. This is a similar error 
 to those which we have detected in the vulgar lan- 
 guage relating to the senses of smell and hearing. 
 It is Light alone which enters the eye ; and Light, 
 with its numerous modifications, is the sole object of 
 sight. 
 
 How the particles of light affect the nerves of the 
 eye, in the pecuhar manner in which they are 
 affected in sight, without affecting the other nerves of 
 the body, in any similar manner, we can render no 
 account. 
 
 That the feeling we have in sight, is very different 
 from the feeling we have in hearing, in smelling, in 
 tasting, or touching, every man knows. It is difficult, 
 however, to detach the feeling we have in sight from 
 every other feeling ; because there are other feelings 
 which we are constantly in the habit of connecting 
 with it ; and the passage in the mind from the one to 
 the ^ther is so rapid, that they run together, and can- 
 not easily be distinguished- The different modifica- 
 tions of light we caU colour. But we cannot think 
 of the sensation of colour, without at the same time 
 
22 SEi^SATlON. [chap. I. 
 
 thinking of something coloured, of surface or exten- 
 sion, a notion derived from another sense. 
 
 That the feelings of sight which we are capable of 
 distinguishing from one another, are exceedingly 
 numerous, is obvious from this, that it is by them we 
 distinguish the infinite variety of visible objects. 
 We have the sensation ; the sensation suggests the 
 object ; and it is only by the difference of sensation, 
 that the difference of object can be indicated. 
 
 Some of the things suggested by the sensations of 
 sight, as extension and figure, are suggested so instan- 
 taneously, that they appear to be objects of sight, 
 things actually seen. But this important law of our 
 nature, by which so many things appear to be seen, 
 which are only suggested by the feelings of sight, it 
 requires the knowledge of other elements of the 
 mental phenomena to explain. 
 
 The imperfections of the language, by wbich we 
 have to speak of the phenomena of sight, deserve the 
 greatest attention. 
 
 We have an appropriate name for the organ ; it is 
 the Eye. And we have an appropriate name for the 
 Object ; it is light. But we have no appropriate 
 name for the Sensation. From confusion of names, 
 proceeds confusion of ideas. And from misnaming, 
 on this one point, not a little unprofitable discourse 
 on the subject of the human mind has been derived. 
 
 The word sight, in certain phrases, denotes the 
 sensation. If I am asked, what is the feeling which 
 I have by the eye ? I answer, sight. But sight is also 
 a name of the object. The light of day is said to be 
 a beautiful sight. And sight is sometimes employed 
 as a name of the organ. An old man informs us, 
 
SECT. III.J SIGHT. 23 
 
 that his sight is failing, meaning that his eyes are 
 failing/ 
 
 Colour is a name, as well of the object, as of the 
 sensation. It is most commonly a name of the object. 
 Colour is, properly speaking, a modification of light, 
 though it is never conceived but as something spread 
 over a surface ; it is, therefore, not the name of light 
 simply, but the name of three things united, light, 
 surface, and a certain position of the two. In many 
 cases, however, we have no other name for the sensa- 
 tion. If I am asked, what feeling I have when a red 
 light is presented to my eyes, I can only say, the 
 colour of red ; and so of other visual feelings, the 
 colour of green, the colour of white, and so on. 
 
 In the term sense of sight, the same complexity of 
 meaning is involved which we have observed in the 
 terms sense of smell, and sense of hearing. When I 
 speak of my sense of sight, as when I speak of the 
 attraction of the load-stone, I mean to denote an ante- 
 cedent, and a consequent ; the organ with its object 
 in appropriate position, the antecedent ; the sensation, 
 the consequent. This is merely the philosophical 
 statement of the fact, that, when light is received into 
 the eye, the sensation of sight is the consequence. 
 
 Vision, a word expressive of the phenomena of 
 
 ^ The example givea does not seem to me to prove that 
 sight is ever employed as a name of the organ. When an old man 
 says that his sight is failing, hemeansonlythathe is less capable 
 of seeing. His eyes might be failing in some other respect, 
 when he would not say that his sight was failing. The term 
 " sense of sight," like sense of hearing or of smell, stands, as 
 it seems to me, for the capability, without reference to the 
 organ. — Ed. 
 
24 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 sight, is ambiguous in the same manner. It is some- 
 times used to denote the sense of seeing ; that is, the 
 antecedentand consequent, as explained in the preced- 
 ing paragraph. Thus we say, the phenomena of 
 vision, with the same propriety as we say the pheno- 
 mena of sight. It is sometimes employed to denote 
 the sensation. If we ask what feeling a blind man is 
 deprived of, it would be perfectly proper to say, vision 
 is the feeling of which he is deprived. It is, also, 
 employed to denote the object. What vision was 
 that ? would be a very intelligible question, on the 
 sudden appearance and disappearance of something 
 which attracted the eye.^ 
 
 ^ Vision, I believe, is used to denote the object of sight, 
 only when it is supposed that this object is something unreal, 
 i.e., that it has not any extended and resisting substance 
 behind it : or rhetorically, to signify that the object looks more 
 like a phantom than a reality ; as when Burke calls Marie 
 Antoinette, as once seen by him^ a delightful vision. — Ed. 
 
SECT. IV. j TASTE. 25 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 TASTE. 
 
 The ORGAN of TASTE is in the mouth and fauces. 
 
 In ordinary language, the object of taste is any 
 thing, which, taken into the mouth, and tasted, as it 
 is called, produces the peculiar sensation of this sense. 
 Nor has philosophy as yet enabled us to state the 
 object of taste more correctly. There are experiments 
 which show, that galvanism is concerned in the pheno- 
 mena, but not in what way. 
 
 The sensation, in this case, is distinguished by 
 every body. The taste of sugar, the taste of an apple, 
 are words which immediatelyrecall the ideas of distinct 
 feelings. It is to be observed, however, that the 
 feelings of this sense are very often united with those 
 of the sense of smell ; the two organs being often 
 affected by the same thing, at the same time. In that 
 case, though we have two sensations, they are so in- 
 timately blended as to seem but one ; and the flavour 
 of the apple, the flavour of the wine, appears to be a 
 simple sensation, though compounded of taste and 
 smell. ^ 
 
 ^ Some physiologists have been of opinion that a large pro- 
 portion of what are classed as tastes, including all flavours, as 
 distinguished from the generic tastes of sweet, sour, bitter, 
 &c., are really aflections of the nerves of smell, and are mis- 
 taken for tastes only because they are experienced along with 
 tastes, as a consequence of taking food into the mouth. — Ed, 
 
26 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 It is not so easy, in the case of this, as of some of 
 the other senses, to conceive ourselves as having this 
 class of feelings and no other. Antecedent to the sen- 
 sation of taste, there is generally some motion of the 
 mouth, by which the object and the organ are brought 
 into the proper position and state. The sensation can 
 hardly be thought of without thinking of this motion, 
 that is, of other feelings. Besides, the organ of taste 
 is also the organ of another sense. The organ of taste 
 has the sense of touch, and most objects of taste are 
 objects of touch. Sensations of touch, therefore, are 
 intimately blended with those of taste. 
 
 By a little pains, however, any one may conceive 
 the sensations of tasting, while he conceives his other 
 organs to remain in a perfectly inactive state, and 
 himself as nothing but a passive recipient of one taste 
 after another. If he conceives a mere train of those 
 sensations, perfectly unmixed with any other feeling, 
 he will have the conception of a being made up of 
 tastes ; a thread of consciousness, which may be called 
 mere taste ; a life which is merely taste. 
 
 The language employed about this sense is not less 
 faulty, than that employed about the other senses, 
 which we have already surveyed. 
 
 There is no proper name for the organ. The word 
 Mouth, which we are often obliged to employ for 
 that purpose, is the name of this organ and a great 
 deal more. 
 
 There is no proper name for the object. We are 
 obliged to call it, that which lias taste. The word 
 flavour is used to denote that quality, whicli is more 
 j&eculiarl}^ the object of taste, in certain articles of 
 food ; and sometimes we borrow the word sapidity, 
 
SECT. IV.] TASTE. 27 
 
 from the Latin, to answer the same purpose more 
 extensively. 
 
 The word taste is a name for the sensation. We 
 generally call the feeling, which is the point of con- 
 sciousness in this case, by the name taste. Thus we 
 Sciy one taste is pleasant, another unpleasant ; and no- 
 thing is pleasant or unpleasant but a feeling. 
 
 The word taste is also a name for the object, as when 
 we say, that any thing has taste. 
 
 It is further employed as a name of the organ. As 
 we are said to perceive qualities by the eye, the ear, 
 and the touch ; so we are said to perceive them by the 
 taste. 
 
 In the phrase, sense of taste, there is the same com- 
 plexity of meaning as we have observed in the corre- 
 sponding phrase in the case of the other senses. In 
 this phrase, taste expresses all the leading particulars ; 
 the organ, the object, and the sensation, together with 
 the order of position in the two first, and the order of 
 constant sequence in the last.^ 
 
 ^ The statement that '^ taste" is sometimes employed as a 
 name of the organ, seems to me, hke the similar statements 
 respecting the names of our other senses, disputable. — Ed, 
 
28 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 TOUCH. 
 
 In discoursing about the organ, the sensations, 
 and the objects, of touch, more vagueness has been 
 admitted, than in the case of any of the other senses. 
 
 In fact, every sensation which could not properly 
 be assigned to any other of the senses, has been 
 allotted to the touch. The sensations classed, or 
 rather jumbled together, under this head, form a kind 
 of miscellany, wherein are included feelings totally 
 unlike. 
 
 The ORGAN of TOUCH is diffused over the Avhole 
 surface of the body, and reaches a certain way into the 
 alimentary canal. Of food, as merely tangible, there 
 is seldom a distinct sensation in the stomach, or any 
 lower part of the channel, except towards the ex- 
 tremity. The stomach, however, is sensible to heat, 
 and so is the whole of the alimentary canal, as far at 
 least as any experiment is capable of being made. It 
 may, indeed, be inferred, that we are insensible to the 
 feelings of touch, throughout the intestinal canal, 
 only from the habit of not attending to them.^ 
 
 ^ The surface of the sense of Touch properly so called is 
 the skin, or common integument of the body, the interior of 
 the mouth and the tongue, and the interior of the nose. There 
 are common anatomical peculiarities in these organs ; which 
 distinguish them from the alimentary canal and all the other 
 
SECT, v.] TOUCH. 29 
 
 We have next to consider the object of touch. 
 Whatever yields resistance, and whatever is extended, 
 figured, hot, or cold, we set down, in ordinary lan- 
 guage, as objects of touch. 
 
 I shall show, when the necessary explanations have 
 been afforded, that the idea of resistance, the idea of 
 extension, and the idea of figure, include more than 
 can be referred to the toiich, as the ideas of visible 
 figure and magnitude include more than can be 
 referred to the eye. It has been long known, that 
 many of the things, which the feeling by the eye 
 seems to include, it only suggests. It is not less im- 
 portant to know, that the same is the case with the 
 tactual feeling ; that this also suggests various par- 
 ticulars which it has been supposed to comprehend. 
 
 In the present stage of our investigation, it is not 
 expedient to push very far the inquiry, what it is, or 
 is not, proper, to class as sensations of touch, because 
 that can be settled with much greater advantage here- 
 after. 
 
 The sensations of heat and cold offer this advantage, 
 — that being often felt without the accompaniment of 
 
 interior surfaces of the body. Moreover, although, in the ali- 
 mentary canal, there is solid or liquid contact with a sensitive 
 surface, the mode of exciting the sensitive nerves, and the 
 resulting sensibility, are peculiar and distinct. The mode of 
 action in touch is mechanical contact or pressure, mainly of 
 solid and resisting bodies ; in digestion, the nerves are affected 
 through chemical and other processes — solution, absorption, 
 assimilation, &c. In touch, there is the peculiar feehng known 
 as hard contact, together with the varying discrimination of 
 plurality of points. In digestion, when healthy, the feeling of 
 contact is entirely absent. — B. 
 
30 SENSATION. [ciiAP. I. 
 
 any thing visible or extended, which can be called an 
 object, they can be more distinctly conceived as simple 
 feelings, than most of our other sensations."^ They 
 are feehngs very different from the ordinary sensa- 
 tions of touch; and possibly the only reason for 
 classino; them with those sensations was, that the 
 organ of them, Uke that of touch, is diffused over the 
 whole body. We know not that the nerves appro- 
 priated to the sensations of heat and cold are the 
 same with those which have the sensation of touch. 
 If they be the same, they must at any rate be affected 
 in a very different manner. 
 
 To whatever class we may refer the sensations of 
 heat and cold, in their moderate degrees, it seems that 
 good reasons may be given for not ranking them with 
 the sensations of touch, when they rise to the degree 
 of pain. All those acute feelings which attend the 
 disorganization, or tendency toward disorganization, 
 
 ^" The sensations of heat and cold are, of all sensations, 
 the most subjective. The reason is that they are least con- 
 nected "with definite muscular energies. The rise and fall of 
 the temperature of the surrounding air may induce sensations 
 wholly independent of our own movements ; and to whatever 
 extent such independence exists, there is a corresponding 
 absence of objectivity. This independence, however, is still 
 only partial, even in the case of heat and cold ; in a great 
 number, perhaps a majority, of instances, they depend upon 
 our movements; as in changing our position with reference to 
 a fire, in oar clothing, and so on. It is the possibility of con- 
 ceiving them in the pure subject character, and apart from 
 object relations, that constitutes them simple feelings, in the 
 acceptation of the text. AlthougVi not in an equal degree, 
 the same is true of sensations of hearing, on which the author 
 made a similar remark. — B. 
 
SECT. V,] TOUCH. 31 
 
 of the several parts of our frame, seem entirely 
 distinct from the feelings of touch. Even in the 
 case of cutting, or laceration, the mere touch of 
 the knife or other instrument is one feeling, the pain 
 of the cut, or laceration, another feeling, as much as, 
 in the mouth, the touch of the sugar is one feehng, 
 the sweetness of it another. 
 
 As we shall offer reasons hereafter to show, that 
 the feelings of resistance, extension, and figure, are 
 not feelings of touch, we should endeavour to conceive 
 what feeling it is which remains when those feelings 
 are taken away. 
 
 When we detach the feeling of resistance, we, of 
 course, detach those of hardness and softness, rough- 
 ness and smoothness, which are but different modi- 
 fications of resistance. And when these, and the 
 feelings of extension and figure, are detached, a very 
 simple sensation seems to remain, the feeling which 
 we have when something, without being seen, comes 
 gently in contact with our skin, in such a way, that 
 we cannot say whether it is hard or soft, rough or 
 smooth, of what figure it is, or of what size. A sense 
 of something present on the skin, and perhaps also on 
 the interior parts of the body, taken purely by itself, 
 seems alone the feeling of touch. 
 
 The feelings of this sense are mostly moderate, 
 partaking very little of either pain or pleasure. This 
 is the reason why the stronger feelings, which are 
 connected with them, those of resistance, and exten- 
 sion, predominate in the groupe, and prevent atten- 
 tion to the sensations of touch. The sensations of 
 touch operate as signs to introduce the ideas of resis- 
 tance and extension, and are no more regarded. 
 
32 - SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 The imperfection of the language which we employ, 
 in speaking of this sense, deserves not less of our 
 regard, than that of the language we employ, in 
 speaking of our other senses. 
 
 We need distinct and appropriate names, for the 
 organ, for the object, and for the sensation. We have 
 no such name for any of them. 
 
 The word touch is made to stand for all the thi'ee, 
 I speak of my touch, when I mean to denote my organ 
 of touch. I speak also of my touch, when 1 mean 
 to denote my sensation. And in some cases, speak- 
 ing of the object, I call it touch. If I were to call a 
 piece of fine and brilliant velvet a fine sight, another 
 person might say, it is a fine touch as well as fine sight," 
 
 In ordinary language, the word feeling is appro- 
 priated to this sense ; though it has been found con- 
 venient, in philosophical discourse, to make the term 
 generical, so as to include every modification of 
 consciousness. * 
 
 When I say that I feel the table, there is a con- 
 siderable complexity of meaning. Dr. Reid, and his 
 followers, maintain, that I have not one point of 
 
 ^^ It is more true of the word touch, than of the names of 
 our other senses, that it is occasionally employed to denote the 
 organ of touch ; because that organ, being the whole surface 
 of the body, has not, like the organs of the special senses, a 
 compact distinctive name. But it may be doubted if the word 
 touch ever stands for the object of touch. If a person made 
 use of the phrase in the text, " it is a fine touch as well as a fine 
 sight," he would probably be regarded as purchasing an 
 epigrammatic turn of expression at the expense of some 
 violence to language. — Ed. 
 
 * "The word feeling, though in many cases we use it as 
 
SECT, v.] TOUCH. 3a 
 
 consciousness only, but two ; that I feel the sensation, 
 and that I feel the table ; that the sensation is one 
 thing, the feeling of the table another. lExpositions 
 which will be given hereafter are necessary to the 
 complete elucidation of what takes place. But the 
 explanations which have been already afforded will 
 enable us to state the facts with considerable clearness. 
 In what is called feehng the table, my organ of touch, 
 and an object of touch, in the appropriate position, 
 are the antecedent ; of this antecedent, sensation is 
 the consequent. The expression, '' I feel the table," 
 includes both the antecedent and the consequent. It 
 does not mark the sensation alone ; it marks the 
 sensation, and, along with the sensation, its ante- 
 cedent, namely, the organ, and its object in con- 
 junction. 
 
 The phrase, sense of touch, or the word feeling, 
 often synonymous, has the same complexity of mean- 
 ing, which we have observed in the phrases, sense of 
 hearing, sense of sight, and the rest of the senses. 
 
 When I say that I touch, or have the sense of 
 touch, I mean to say, that I have a certain feehng, 
 consequent upon a certain antecedent. The phrase, 
 therefore, notes the sensation, and at the same time 
 connotes^ the following things : 1st, the organ ; 2dly, 
 
 synonymous to touching, has, however, a much more extensive 
 signification, and is frequently employed to denote our internal, 
 as well as our external, affections. We feel hunger and thirst, 
 we feel joy and sorrow, we feel love and hatred," — Ad. Smith, 
 on the External Senses. — (Authors Note.) 
 
 ^ The use, which I shall make, of the term connotation, 
 needs to be explained. There is a large class of words, which 
 denote two things, both together ; but the one perfectly dis- 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 the object of the organ ; 3dly, the synchronous order 
 of the organ and object; 4thly, the successive order of 
 the sensation ; the sjmchronous order being, as usual, 
 the antecedent of the successive order. "^ ^^ 
 
 tinguishable from the other. Of these two things, also, it is 
 observable, that such words express the one, primarily^ as it 
 were; the other, in a way which may be called secondary. 
 Thus, whiiBj in the phrase ivhite horse, denotes two things, the 
 colour, and the horse ; but it denotes the colour 'primarily, 
 the horse secondarily. We shall find it very convenient, to say, 
 therefore, that it notes the primary, connotes the secondary, 
 signification. — (Authors Note) [Reasons will be assigned 
 further on, why the words to connote and connotation had 
 better be employed, not as here indicated, but in a different 
 and more special sense. — Ed.] 
 
 * The terms synchronous order, and successive order, will be 
 fully explained hereafter, when any obscurity which may now 
 seem to rest upon them will be removed ; it may be useful at 
 present to say, that, l^y synchronous order, is meant order in 
 space, by successive order, order in time ; the first, or order in 
 space, being nothing but the placing or position of the objects 
 at any given time ; the second, or order in time, being nothing 
 but the antecedence of the one, and the consequence of the 
 other. — {Authors Note) 
 
 ^^ Additional Ohaervations on the Sense of Touch. — The 
 author is right in drawing a distinction between Touch proper 
 and the sensibility to Heat and Cold, which, though prin- 
 cipally found in the skin, extends beyond the seat of 
 tactile sensibility, as, for example, to the alimentary canal, 
 and to the lungs. It is a debated point, whether the nerves 
 of Touch are also the nerves of Heat and Cold ; some persons 
 contending for special nerves of Temperature. Such special 
 nerves, however, have not been proved to exist. 
 
 The remark is also correct, that the feelings of temperature 
 can be more easily attended to, as simple feelino-s, than the 
 
SECT, v.] TOUCH. 35 
 
 feelings of touch proper. The reason is not precisely stated. 
 It is that radiant heat may affect the surface of the body 
 without occasioning resistance or movement, and is thus a 
 purely passive sensibility ; a subject-state without an object- 
 accompaniment. When the degree of the sensation varies 
 definitely with definite movements, it is treated as an object 
 sensibility, or as pointing to the object world. Thus when 
 we grow warmer as we move in one direction, and colder as we 
 move in another, we no longer think of the feeling as a purely 
 subject fact, but as having an object, or external embodi- 
 ment. 
 
 It is also justly remarked in the text, that the severe sensa- 
 tions of heat, and cold, as well as those from laceration of the 
 skin, may be properly classed with feelings of disorganization 
 generally. At the same time, these painful feelings have a 
 character varying with the organ affected; the fact of injury 
 of tissue may be the same, but the feeling will not be the 
 same, in the skin, the nostrils, the ear, the eye, the alimentary 
 canal. 
 
 The description above given of the feeling that remains, 
 when the different modifications of resistance are deducted, is 
 scarcely adequate to represent the reality. Frequently it is 
 true of them, that they * are mostly moderate, partaking very 
 little of either pain or pleasure,' but there are occasions when 
 they rise into prominence and power. We may refer to the con- 
 tact of the bedclothes at night, when the body is relieved from the 
 tight and deadening embrace of the ordinary clothing. The case 
 of greatest moment, however, is the contact of one human 
 being or animal with another ; such contact being the physical 
 element in the tender as well as in the sexual affections. There 
 is a combination of tactile sensibility and warmth in this 
 instance, each counting for a part of the pleasure. The in- 
 fluence is well enough known as experienced among human 
 beings ; but the sphere of its operation in animals has been 
 but imperfectly explored. 
 
 If we observe carefully the first movements of a new-born 
 animal, a mammal for example, we find that the guiding and 
 
 D 2 
 
36 SENSATION, [chap. I. 
 
 controllincf sensation of its first moments, is the contact with 
 the mother. In that contact, it finds satisfaction and repose ; 
 in separation, it is in discomfort and disquiet. Its earliest 
 volitions are to retain and to recover the soft warm touch of the 
 maternal body. When it commences sucking, and has the 
 sensation of nourishment, a new interest springs up, perhaps 
 still more powerful in its attractions, and able to supersede the 
 first, or at least to put it into a second place ; yet, during the 
 whole period of maternal dependence, the feeling of touch is 
 a source of powerful sensibility both to the mother and to the 
 offspring. Among animals born in litter, as pigs, kittens, 6cc., 
 the embrace is equally acceptable between the fellow-progeny 
 themselves. The sensual pleasure of this contact is the 
 essence, the fact, of animal affection, parental and fraternal; 
 and it is the germ, or foundation, and concomitant of tender 
 affection in human beings. It is the experience of this agree- 
 able contact that prepares the way for a still closer, conjunction 
 after the animal reaches puberty. Independent of, and ante- 
 cedent to, that still more acute sensibility, there is a pleasure 
 in the warm embrace of two animals, and they are ready to 
 enter upon it, at all times when the other interests^ — as 
 nourishment, exercise and repose, — are not engrossing. The 
 play of animals with one another clearly involves the pleasure 
 of the embrace, even without sexuaHty ; and it leads to the 
 sexual encounter at the ripe moment. — B. 
 
SECT. VI.] SENSATIONS OF DISORGANIZATION. 37 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 
 SENSATIONS OF DISORGANIZATION, OR OF THE 
 APPROACH TO DISORGANIZATION, IN ANY PART 
 OF THE BODY. 
 
 That we have sensations in parts of the body suffer- 
 ing, or approaching to, disorganization, does not 
 require illustration. The disorganizations of which 
 we speak proceed sometimes from external, sometimes 
 from internal, causes. Lacerations, cuts, bruises, 
 burnings, poisonings, are of the former kind ; inflam- 
 mation, and other diseases in the parts, are the latter. 
 
 These sensations are specifically different from those 
 classed under the several heads of sense. The feelings 
 themselves, if attended to, are evidence of this. In 
 the next place, they have neither organ, nor object, 
 in the sense in which those latter feelings have them. 
 We do not talk of an organ of burning ; an organ of 
 pain ; nor do we talk of an object of any of them ; we 
 do not say the object of a cut, the object of an ache, 
 the object of a sore. 
 
 Most of those sensations are of the pamful kind ; 
 though some are otherwise. Some slight, or locally 
 minute inflammations, produce a sensation called 
 itching, which is far from disagreeable, as appears 
 from the desire to scratch, which excites it." 
 
 ^^ The author, in this passage, uses the word itching out of 
 its ordinary sense ; making it deuote the pleasant sensation 
 
38 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 The scratching, which excites the pleasure of itching, 
 is a species of friction, and friction, in most parts of 
 the body, excites a sensation very different from the 
 mere sense of touching or the simple feeling of the 
 object. The tickhng of the feather in the nose, for 
 example, is very different from the mere feeling of the 
 feather in touch. In some parts of the body the most 
 intense sensations are produced by friction. 
 
 There is difficulty in classing those sensations. 
 They are not the same with those of any of the five 
 senses : and they are not the same with those which 
 rise from any tendency to disorganization in the parts 
 of the body to which they are referred. Great accu- 
 racy, however, in the classification of the sensations, 
 is not essential to that acquaintance with them, which 
 is requisite for the subsequent parts of this inquiry. 
 It will suffice for our purpose, if the reader so far 
 attend to them, as to be secure from the danger of 
 overlooking or mistaking them, where a distinct con- 
 sideration of them is necessary for developing any 
 of the complicated phenomena in which they are 
 concerned. ^^ 
 
 accompanying the relief by scratching, instead of the slightly 
 painful, and sometimes highly irritating, sensation which the 
 scratching relieves. — Ed. 
 
 ^^ Organic Sensibilities, — The author did well to signalize 
 these sensibilities, so powerful in their influence on human life. 
 They are not confined to the side of pain. The same organs 
 whose disorganization is connected with pain, are, in their 
 healthy and vigorous working, more or less connected with 
 pleasure. This is true not merely of the digestive functions, 
 but of the respiration, the circulation, and others. 
 
 Nor is it difficult in their case to make up the full analogy 
 
SECT. VI. J SENSATIONS OF DISORGANIZATION. 39 
 
 of a sense, as having an Object, an Organ, and a characteristic 
 Sensation. In digestion, the object is the food, the organ is 
 the alimentary canal ; in respiration, the object is the air, and 
 the organ the lungs. If it be said that the air is an impalpable 
 agent and not discovered to the mind by its mode of operating, 
 so is heat, the object of an admitted sense. 
 
 The accurate classification of these feelings may not have 
 much speculative interest, in Psychology, but it has a great 
 practical interest in the diagnosis of disease. For want of 
 subjective knowledge on the part of the patient, and of a well 
 understood nomenclature of subjective symptoms, the dis- 
 crimination of disease by the feelings is usually very rough. 
 
 The best mode of arranging these sensibilities seems to be to 
 connect them with their organs, or seats — Muscular Tissue, 
 Bones and Ligaments^ Nerves, Heart and Circulation, Lungs, 
 Alimentary Canal. The sensations of itching and tickling are 
 modes of skin sensibility. Tickling is an efifect not well under- 
 stood, although some interesting observations have been made 
 upon it. — B. 
 
40 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 SECTION VII 
 
 MUSCULAR SENSATIONS, OR THOSE FEELINGS WHICH 
 ACCOMPANY THE ACTION OF TPIE MUSCLES. 
 
 There is no part of our Consciousness, which de- 
 serves greater attention than this ; though, till lately, 
 it has been miserably overlooked. Haii:ley, Darwin, 
 and Brown, are the only philosophical inquirers into 
 Mind, at least in our own country, who seem to have 
 been aware that it fell within the province of their 
 speculations. 
 
 The muscles are bundles of fibres, which, by their 
 contraction and relaxation, produce all the motions of 
 the body. The nerves, with which they are supphed, 
 seem to be the immediate instruments of the muscular 
 action. 
 
 That these muscles have the power of acute sensa- 
 tion, we know, by what happens, when they are dis- 
 eased, when they suffer any external injury, or even 
 when, the integuments being removed, they can be 
 touched, though ever so gently. 
 
 It has been said,'^'' that if we had but one sensation, 
 
 * Itaque et sensioni adhseret, propria dictse, ut ei aliqua in- 
 sita sit perpetuo phantasmatum varietas, ita ut aliud ab alio 
 discerni posset. Si supponeremus, enim, esse hominem, oculis 
 quidem claris cseterisque videndi organis recte se habentibus 
 compositum, nullo autem alio sensu prseditum, eunique ad 
 eandem rem eodem semper colore et specie sine ulla vel mininja 
 varietate appareatem obversum esse, mihi certe, quicquid 
 
SECT. VII.J MUSCULAR SENSATIONS. 41 
 
 and that uninterrupted, it would be as if we had no 
 sensation at all ; and, to the justice of this observa- 
 tion, some very striking facts appear to bear evidence. 
 We know that the air is continually pressing upon 
 our bodies. But, the sensation being continual, with- 
 out any call to attend to it, we lose, from habit, the 
 power of doing so. The sensation is as if it did not 
 exist. We feel the air when it is in motion, or when 
 it is hotter or colder, to a certain degree, than our 
 bodies ; but it is because we have the habit of attend- 
 ing to it in those states. As the muscles are always 
 in contact with the same things, the sensations of the 
 muscles must be almost constantly the same. This 
 is one reason why they are very httle attended to, 
 and, amid the crowd of other feelings, are, in general, 
 wholly forgotten. They are of that class of feelings 
 which occur as antecedents to other more interesting 
 feelings. To these the attention is immediately called 
 off, and those which preceded and introduced them 
 are forgotten. In such cases the thought of the less 
 interesting sensations is merged in that of the more 
 interesting. 
 
 If we had not direct proof, analogy would lead us 
 to conclude, that no change could take place, in parts 
 of so much sensibility as the muscles, without a 
 change of feeling ; in particular, that a distinguish- 
 
 dicant alii, non magis videre videretur, quam ego videor mihi 
 per tactus organa sentire lacertorum meorum ossa. Ea tamen 
 perpetuoetundequaque sensibilissima membrana continguntur. 
 — Adeo sentire semper idem, et non sentire, ad idemrecidunt. 
 Hobbes, Elem. Philos. Pars IV. c. xxv. § 5. — {Author's 
 Note.) 
 
42 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 able feeling must attend every contraction, and relaxa- 
 tion. We have proof that there is such a feeling, 
 because intimation is conveyed to the mind that the 
 relaxation or contraction is made. I will, to move my 
 arm ; and though I observe the motion by none of my 
 senses, I know that the motion is made. The feeling 
 that attends the motion has existed. Yet so complete 
 is my habit of attending only to the motion, and not 
 to the feeling, that no attention can make me dis- 
 tinctly sensible that I have it. Nay, there are some 
 muscles of the body in constant and vehement action, 
 as the heart, of the feehngs attendant upon the action 
 of which we seem to have no cognisance at all. That 
 this is no argument against the existence of those 
 feelings, will be made apparent, by the subsequent ex- 
 planation of other phenomena, in which the existence 
 of certain feelings, and an acquired incapacity of at- 
 tending to them, are out of dispute.^' 
 
 In most cases of the muscular feelings, there is not 
 only that obscurity, of which we have immediately 
 spoken, but great complexity ; as several muscles 
 almost always act together ; in many of the common 
 actions of the body, a great number. 
 
 The result of these complex feelings is often suffi- 
 ciently perceptible, though the feelings, separately, 
 can hardly be made objects of attention. The un- 
 pleasant feeling of fatigue, in part at least a muscular 
 feehng, is one of those results. The pleasure which 
 almost all the more perfect animals, especially the 
 
 ^^ The paradox, of feelings which we have no cognisance of 
 — feelings which are not felt — will be discussed at large in a 
 future note. — Ed. 
 
SECT. VII.] MUSCULAR SENSATIONS. 43 
 
 young, appear to feel, in even violent exercise, may be 
 regarded as another. The restlessness of a healthy 
 child ; the uneasiness in confinement, the delight in 
 the activity of freedom, which so strongly distinguish 
 the vigorous schoolboy ; seem to indicate, both a 
 painful state of the muscular system in rest, and a 
 pleasurable state of it in action. Who has not re- 
 marked the plajrful activity of the kitten and the 
 puppy ? The delight of the dog, on being permitted 
 to take exercise with his master, extends through the 
 greater part of his hfe. 
 
 One of the cases in which the feeling of muscular 
 action seems the most capable of being attended to, 
 is the pleasure accompanying the act of stretching, 
 which most animals perform in drowsiness, or after 
 sleep. 
 
 A very slight degree of reflection is sufficient to 
 evince, that we could not have had the idea of resist- 
 ance, which forms so great a part of what we call our 
 idea of matter, without the feelings which attend 
 muscular action. Resistance means a force opposed 
 to a force; the force of the object, opposed to the 
 force which we apply to it. The force which we 
 apply is the action of our muscles, which is only 
 known to us by the feelings which accompany it. Our 
 idea of resistance, then, is the idea of our own feel- 
 ings in applying muscular force. It is true, that the 
 mere feeling of the muscles in action is not the only 
 feeling concerned in the case. The muscles move in 
 consequence of the Will ; and what the WiU is, we 
 are not as yet prepared to explain. What is neces- 
 sary at present is, not to shew all the simple feelings 
 which enter into the feeling of resistance ; but to shew 
 
44 SENSATION. [chap. I. 
 
 that the sunple feehng of muscular action is one of 
 them. 
 
 The feehng of resistance admits of great varieties. 
 The feehng of a plate of iron is one thing, the feeling 
 of a blown bladder is another, the feeling of quick- 
 silver is a thu-d, the feeling of water a fourth, and so 
 on. The feeling of weight, or attraction, is also a 
 feeling of resistance. 
 
SECT. VJII.] SENSATIONS IN THE ALIMENTARY CANAL. 45 
 
 SECTION VIII. 
 
 SENSATIONS IN THE ALIMENTARY CANAL. 
 
 When the sensations in the alimentary canal 
 become acutely painful, they are precise objects of 
 attention to every body. 
 
 There is reason to believe that a perpetual train of 
 sensations is going on in every part of it. The food 
 stimulates the stomach. It undergoes important 
 changes, and, mixed with some very stimulating in- 
 gredients, passes into the lower intestines ; in every 
 part of which it is still farther changed. The degree, 
 and even the nature, of some of the changes, are 
 different, according as the passage through the canal 
 is slower, or quicker ; they are different, according to 
 the state of the organs, and according to the nature 
 of the food. 
 
 Of the multitude of sensations, which must attend 
 this process, very few become objects of attention ; 
 and, in time, an incapacity is generated, of making 
 them objects of attention. They are not, however, as 
 we shall afterwards perceive, feeble agents, or insigni- 
 ficant elements, in the trains of thought. They are 
 of that class of feelings, to which we have already 
 been under the necessity of alluding ; a class, which 
 serve as antecedents, to feelings more interesting than 
 themselves ; and from which the attention is so in- 
 stantaneously drawn, to the more interesting feelings 
 by which they are succeeded, that we are as little 
 sensible of their existence, as we often are of the 
 
46 SENSATIONS IN THE [cHAP. I. 
 
 sound of the clock, wliicli may strike in the room 
 beside us, and of course affect our ear in the usual 
 manner, and yet leave no trace of the sensations 
 behind. 
 
 The complicated sensations in the intestmal canal, 
 like those in the muscles, though obscure, and even 
 unknown, as individual sensations, often constitute a 
 general state of feeling, which is sometimes exhilara- 
 ting, and sometimes depressing. The effects of opium., 
 and of inebriating liquors, in producing exhilaration, 
 are well known ; and though much of the pleasure in 
 these states is owing to association, as we shall after- 
 wards explain, yet the agreeable feelings in the 
 stomach, are the origin and cause of the joyous asso- 
 ciations.^^ The state of feeling in the stomach in sea- 
 sickness, or under the operation of an emetic, is, on 
 the contrary, one of the most distressing within our 
 experience ; though we can neither call it a pain, nor 
 have any more distinct conception of it, than as a state 
 of general uneasiness. 
 
 The general effects of indigestion are well known. 
 When the organs of digestion become disordered, and 
 indigestion becomes habitual, a sense of wretchedness 
 is the consequence ; a general state of feeling com- 
 posed of a multitude of minor feelings, none of 
 
 ^^ The exact mode of operation of opium and alcohol is still 
 unknown ; but the part affected is probably the nervous sub- 
 stance and not the stomach. It can hardly be said with pro- 
 priety that any part of the pleasure of these stimulants is due 
 to association. No doubt the exhilarated tone of the mind is 
 favourable to the flow of joyful ideas, which serve to heio-hten 
 the pleasure ; but that pleasure could not be arrested or sub- 
 dued through the absence of any supposable associations. B. 
 
SECT. VIH.] ALIMENTARY CANAL. 47 
 
 which individually can be made an object of atten- 
 tion. 
 
 In the sense of wretchedness, which accompanies 
 indigestion, and which sometimes proceeds to the 
 dreadful state of melancholy madness, it is difficult to 
 say, how much is sensation, and how much association. 
 One thing is certain ; that sensations which are the 
 origin of so much misery are of high importance to 
 us ; whether they, or the associations they introduce, 
 are the principal ingredient in the afflicting state which 
 they contribute to create. 
 
 The effects of indigestion in producing painful asso- 
 ciations, is strikingly exemplified by the horrible 
 dreams which it produces in sleep ; not only ia those 
 whose organs are diseased ; but in the most healthy 
 state of the stomach, when it has received what, in 
 ordinary language, is said, whether from quantity or 
 quality, to have disagreed with it. 
 
 The general states of feeling composed of the mul- 
 titude of obscure and unnoticed feelings in the alimen- 
 tary canal, though most apt to be noticed when they 
 are of the painful kind, are not less frequently of the 
 pleasurable kind. That particular sorts of foods, as 
 well as hquors, have an exhilarating effect, needs 
 hardly to be stated. And it is only necessary to re- 
 vive the recollection of the feeling of general comfort, 
 the elasticity, as it seems, of the whole frame, the 
 feeling of strength, the disposition to activity and 
 enjoyment, which every man must have experienced, 
 when his digestion was vigorous and sound. '^ 
 
 17 These effects pass beyond the influence of mere digestion. 
 All the viscera contribute to the condition of high general 
 
48 SEXSATIONS IN THE [CHAP. I. 
 
 vigour and comfort here supposed. If one were to venture 
 upon a scale of relative importance of the different organs, one 
 would place the nervous centres first, and the digestion 
 second. 
 
 The present section is open to several remarks. Some 
 qualification must be given to the author's surmise ' that a per- 
 petual train of sensations is going on in every part of the ali- 
 mentary canal.' It is hardly correct to say that there are 
 perpetual sensations in any part of it : during a great part of 
 our time we are in a state of indifference as to stomachic 
 changes ; and not merely because we are not disposed to attend 
 to them, but because they scarcely exist. The sensibility of 
 the organ is shown, on anatomical grounds, to be mainly in the 
 stomach, and in the rectum ; these parts are supplied by the 
 nervus vagus ; and very few nerves, besides those of the 
 sympathetic system, are found in the smaller^ or in the larger 
 intestine, so that the sensitiveness of those parts is manifested 
 only in case of violent disorganization, as cramp, stoppage, or 
 inflammation. Hence the feelings are principally attendant on 
 the changes in the stomach, as when food has just been taken, 
 and after long privation, when the state called hunger shows 
 itself. 
 
 It is not correct to class the sensations of the alimentary 
 canal, as a whole, wilh those that lose their hold of the atten- 
 tion, that become unheeded in themselves, and are valued only 
 as the antecedents of other more pleasurable feelings. The 
 remark is inapplicable to the sensations mainly characterized 
 as pleasure or pain ; nothing can be more interesting than a 
 pleasure, except a still greater pleasure. It applies only to 
 those shght irritations that are in themselves nothing, but may 
 be the symptoms or precursors of ill health, or of returning 
 good health. 
 
 The author's doctrine as to our acquiring artificially the 
 habit of not attending to alimentary states, demands a fuller 
 explanation. The usual cause of inattention to impressions is 
 unbroken continuance ; in accordance with the universal law 
 
SECT. VIII.] ALIMENTAKY CANAL. 49 
 
 of Relativity or Change, we are usually insensible to the 
 contact of our clothing with the skin, except at the mo- 
 ments when we put on or take off any part of it. In walking, 
 and in standing, for a length of time, we are insensible to the 
 body's weight ; on rising from the recumbent position we are 
 rendered in some degree conscious of it. Now as the alimentary 
 sensations — Hunger and Repletion — are intermitted and alter- 
 nated with other states, they fulfil the chief condition of 
 wakeful consciousness. 
 
 The example of the striking of the clock, adduced in the 
 text, brings into operation a different power of the mind, which 
 may go far to counteract the influence of change. Under a 
 very engrossing sensation, or occupation, we become insensible 
 to the stimulation of the senses by other agents. The strain 
 of the mind in some one direction causes a sort of incapacity 
 for going out in any other direction while the strain lasts. 
 This is the explanation of the indifference to the striking of 
 the clock. By the farther influence of habit, inattention to 
 a certain class of impressions may become habitual ; as in the 
 power of carrying on mental work in the midst of distracting 
 noises. 
 
 The same effect may arise in connection with the alimentary 
 feelings. A person very much engrossed with a subject is un- 
 conscious of hunger, and does not feel the pleasures of eating. 
 Should any one be absorbed habitually with some occu- 
 pation or pursuit, such an one may contract a settled in- 
 difference to the recurring phases of alimentary sensation ; but 
 this is an extreme and unusual case. Any ordinary degree of 
 interest in the avocations and pursuits of business is compatible 
 with full attention to the feelings of hunger, and of repletion, 
 as well as to the occasional pains and discomforts of indiges- 
 tion. We do not often choose to contract an indifference to 
 pleasures, and we seldom succeed in acquiring an indifference 
 to pains, although we may have moments of such indifference, 
 under some special engrossment of mind by other things. 
 
 It is over-rating the influence of association to make it a 
 VOL. L E 
 
50 SENSATIONS IN THE ALIMENTAEY CANAL. [cHAT. I. 
 
 chief element in the pleasure of intoxicating stimulants, or in 
 the wretched feelings of diseased digestion. These states are 
 direct results of physical agency, and are the same throughout 
 all stages of life, -with many or with few opportunities of being 
 associated with other feelings. They are not the cases fa- 
 vourable for illustrating the power of associatioUj in the 
 important department of the feelings. — B. 
 
CHAP. II.]. IDKAS, 51 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IDEAS. 
 
 "Hsec in genere sora esse solefc humana, ut quid in quovis 
 genere recte aufc cogitari aut effici possit sentiant prius quam 
 perspiciant. Laboreoi autem baud ita levem ilium veriti, qui in 
 eo impendendus erat ut, ideas operatione analytica penitus 
 evolventes, quid tandem velint, aut qusenam res agatur, aibi ipsis 
 rationem sufficientem reddant, confusis, aut saltem baud satis 
 explicatis rationibus, ratiocinia, et scientiarum adeo sjstemata 
 superstruere solent communiter, eoque confidentius, quo ejus 
 quam tractant scientiae fundamentum solidum magis ignorant." 
 — Schmidt' Phiseldek J Philos. Critias Expositio St/steinatica, t. i, 
 p. 561. 
 
 " Pour systematiser une science, c*est-a-dire, pour ramener una 
 suite de phenoraeues a leur principe, a un phenomene elemen- 
 taire qui engendre successivement tons les autres, il faut saisir 
 leurs rapports, le rapport de generation qui lea lie ; et pour cela, 
 il est clair qu*il faut commencer par examiner ces differens pbe- 
 nomenes separement." — Cousin, Fragm. IPhilos., p. 8. 
 
 The sensations which we have through the medium 
 of the senses exist only by the presence of the object, 
 and cease upon its absence ; nothing being here meant 
 by the presence of the object, but that position of it 
 with respect to the organ, whichis the antecedent of the 
 sensation ; or by its absence, but any other position. 
 
 It is a known part of our constitution, that when 
 our sensations cease, by the absence of their objects, 
 something remains. After I have seen the sun. and 
 
 E 2 
 
52 IDEAS. [chap. II. 
 
 by shutting my eyes see him no longer, I can still 
 think of him. I have still a feeling, the consequence 
 of the sensation, which, though I can distinguish it 
 from the sensation, and treat it as not the sensation, 
 but something different from the sensation, is yet 
 more Hke the sensation, than anything else can be ; so 
 like, that I call it a copy, an image, of the sensation ; 
 sometimes, a representation, or trace, of the sensa- 
 tion. 
 
 Another name, by which we denote this trace, this 
 copy, of the sensation, which remains after the sensa- 
 tion ceases, is idea. This is a very convenient name, 
 and it is that by which the copies of the sensation 
 thus described will be commonly denominated in the 
 present work. The word idea, in this sense, will 
 express no theory whatsoever ; nothing but the bare 
 fact, which is indisputable. We have two classes of 
 feelings ; one, that which exists when the object of 
 sense is present ; another, that which exists after the 
 object of sense has ceased to be present. The one 
 class of feelings I call sensations ; the other class of 
 feelings I call ideas. 
 
 It is an inconvenience, that the word idea is used 
 with great latitude of meanmg, both in ordinary, and 
 in philosophical discourse ; and it will not be always 
 expedient that I should avoid using it in senses dif- 
 ferent from that which 1 have now assigned. I trust, 
 however, I shall in no case leave it doubtful, in what 
 sense it is to be understood. 
 
 The term Sensation has a double meaning. It sig- 
 nifies not only an individual sensation ; as when I 
 say, I smeU this rose, or I look at my hand : but it 
 also signifies the general faculty of sensation ; that is, 
 
CHAP. II.] IDEAS. 53 
 
 the complex notion of all the phenomena together, as 
 a part of our nature. 
 
 The word Idea has only the meaning which corre- 
 sponds to the first of those significations ; it denotes 
 an individual idea ; and we have not a name for that 
 complex notion which embraces, as one whole, all the 
 different phenomena to which the term Idea relates. 
 As we say Sensation, we might say also, Ideation ; it 
 would be a very useful word ; and there is no objec- 
 tion to it, except the pedantic habit of decrying a new 
 term. Sensation would in that case be the general 
 name for one part of our constitution, Ideation for 
 another. 
 
 It is of great importance, before the learner proceeds 
 any farther, that he should not only have an accurate 
 conception of this part of his constitution ; but should 
 acquire, by repetition, by complete familiarity, a ready 
 habit of marking those immediate copies of his sensa- 
 tions, and of distinguishing them from every other 
 phenomenon of his mind. 
 
 It has been represented, that the sensations of sight 
 and hearing leave the most vivid traces ; in other 
 words, that the ideas corresponding to those sensations, 
 are clearer than others. But what is meant Jay clearer 
 and more vivid in this case, is not very apparent. 
 
 If I have a very clear idea of the colour of the 
 trumpet which I have seen, and a very clear idea of 
 its sound which I have heard, I have no less clear 
 ideas of its shape, and of its size ; ideas of the sensa- 
 tions, neither of the eye, nor of the ear. 
 
 It is not easy, in a subject like this, to determine 
 what degree of illustration is needful. To those who 
 are in the habit of distinguishing their mental pheno- 
 
54 IDEAS. [chap. II. 
 
 mena, the subject will appear too simple to require 
 illustration. To those who are new to this important 
 operation, a greater number of illustrations would be 
 useful, than I shall deem it advisable to present. 
 
 It is necessary to take notice, that, as each of our 
 senses has its separate class of sensations, so each has 
 its separate class of ideas. We have ideas of Sight, 
 ideas of Touch, ideas of Hearing, ideas of Taste, and 
 ideas of Smell. 
 
 1. By Sight, as we have sensations of red, yellow, 
 blue, &c., and of the innumerable modifications of 
 them, so have we ideas of those colours. We can 
 think of those colours in the dark ; that is, we have a 
 feeling or consciousness, which is not the same with 
 the sensation, but which we contemplate as a copy of 
 the sensation, an image of it ; something more like 
 it, than any thing else can be ; something which 
 remains with us, after the sensation is gone, and 
 which, in the train of thought, we can use as its re- 
 presentative. 
 
 2. The sensations of Touch, according to the limi- 
 tation under which they should be understood, are not 
 greatly varied. The gentle feeling, which we derive 
 from the mere contact of an object, when we consider 
 it apart from the feeling of resistance, and apart from 
 the sensation of heat or cold, is not very different, as 
 derived from different objects. The idea of this tactual 
 feeling, therefore, is not vivid, nor susceptible of many 
 modifications. On the other hand, our ideas of heat 
 and cold, the feelings which we call the thought of 
 them, existing when the sensations no longer exist, 
 are among the most distinct of the feelings which we 
 distinguish by the name of ideas. 
 
CHAP. Il.j IDEAS. 55 
 
 3. I hear the Sound of thunder ; and I can think 
 of it after it is gone. This feehng, the representative 
 of the mere sound, this thinking, or having the 
 thought of the sound, this state of consciousness, is the 
 idea. The hearing of the sound is the primary state 
 of consciousness ; the idea of the sound is the second- 
 ary state of consciousness ; which exists only when 
 the first has previously existed. 
 
 The number of sounds, of which we can have dis- 
 tinct ideas, as well as distinct sensations, is immense. 
 We can distinguish all animals by their voices. When 
 I hear the horse neigh, I know it is not the voice of 
 the ox. Why ? Because I have the idea of the 
 < voice o f the ox, so distinct, that I know the sensation 
 ' I have, is diflPerent from the sensation of which that is 
 the copy or representative. We can distinguish the 
 sounds of a great number of different musical instru- 
 ments, by the same process. The men, women, and 
 children, of our intimate acquaintance, we can dis- 
 tinguish, and name, by their voices ; that is, we have 
 an idea of the past sensation, which enables us to 
 declare, that the present is the voice of the same 
 person. 
 
 4. That the sensations of Taste recur in thought, 
 when the sensation no longer exists, is a point of 
 every man's experience. This recurring, in thought, 
 of the feeling which we have by the sense, when the 
 feeling by the sense is gone, is the idea of that feel- 
 ing, the secondary state of consciousness, as we 
 named it above. '^ That we can distinguish a very 
 
 1^ DiscriminatioD and Retentiveness (the having of Ideas as 
 the produce of Sensations) are different functions, although 
 
56 IDEAS. [chap. II. 
 
 great number of tastes, and distinguish them accu- 
 rately, is proof that we have a vast number of distinct 
 ideas of taste ; because, for the purpose of making 
 such distinction, we have just seen that there must 
 be a sensation and an idea ; the sensation of the 
 present object, and the idea of the sensation of each 
 of the other objects from which we distinguish it. 
 You have tasted port wine, and you have tasted 
 claret ; when you taste claret again, you can dis- 
 tinguish it from port wine ; that is, you have the idea 
 of the taste of port wine, in conjunction with the 
 sensation of claret. You call it bad claret. Why ? 
 Because, along with the present taste, you have the 
 idea of another, which, when it was sensation, was 
 more agreeable than the present sensation. 
 
 5. Since we distinguish smells, as well as tastes, 
 
 mutually involved, and, in all likelihood, developed in propor- 
 tionate degrees in the same organ. We begin by discriminating 
 changes of impression ; this process is necessary in order to 
 our having even a sensation ; the more delicate the discrimi- 
 nating power, the greater the number of our primary sensations. 
 He that can discriminate twenty shades of yellow has twenty 
 sensations of yellow ; the two statements express the same 
 fact. These various sensations being often repeated, acquire 
 at last an ideal persistence ; they can be maintained as ideas, 
 without the originals. The function or power of the Intellect 
 whereby they are thus rendered self-subsisting as ideas, is not 
 the same function as discrimination; we call it Memory, E.e- 
 tentiveness, Adhesiveness, Association, and so on. What may 
 be affirmed about it, on the evidence of induction, is, that 
 where discrimination is good, memory or retentiveness is also 
 good. The discriminative eye for colour is accompanied with 
 a good memory for colour ; the musical ear is both discrimi- 
 native and retentive. — B. 
 
CHAP. II. J IDEAS. 57 
 
 we have the same proof of the number and distinct- 
 ness of the ideas of this class of sensations. There 
 is none of the numerous smells to which we have 
 been accustomed, which we do not immediately re- 
 cognise. But for that recognition the idea of the 
 past sensation must be conjoined with the present 
 sensation. 
 
 6. Of that class of sensations, which I have called 
 sensations of disorganization, we have also ideas. We 
 are capable of having the thought of them when the 
 sensation is gone ; and that thought is the idea. A 
 spark from the candle flew upon my hand : I had the 
 sensation of burning. I at this moment think of that 
 sensation ; that is, I have the idea of that sensation ; 
 and I can think of it, as different from ten thousand 
 other painful sensations ; that is, I have ideas of as 
 many other sensations of this class. 
 
 7. The ideas of the sensations which attend the 
 action of the muscles are among the most important 
 of the elements which constitute our being. From 
 these we have the ideas of resistance, of compressi- 
 bility, of hardness, of softness, of roughness, of 
 smoothness, of solidity, of liquidity, of weight, of 
 levity, of extension, of figure, of magnitude, of whole 
 and of parts, of motion, of rest. It is, indeed, to be 
 observed, that these are all complex ideas, and that 
 other feelings than the mere muscular feeling are con- 
 cerned in their composition. In almost all the ideas 
 referrible to the muscular feelings, of sufficient im- 
 portance to have names, the Will is included. The 
 muscular action is the consequent, the Will the ante- 
 cedent ; and the name of the idea, includes both. 
 Thus the idea of resistance is the thought, or idea, of 
 
58 IDEAS. [chap. ii. 
 
 the feelings we have, when we will to contract certain 
 muscles, and feel the contraction impeded.'^ ^^ 
 
 There is no feeling of our nature of more impor- 
 tance to us, than that of resistance. Of all our sensa- 
 tions, it is the most unintermitted ; for, whether we 
 sit, or lie, or stand, or walk, still the feeling of resis- 
 tance is present to us. Every thing we touch, at the 
 same time resists ; and every thing we hear, see, taste, 
 or smell, suggests the idea of something that resists. 
 It is through the medium of resistance, that every 
 act by which we subject to our use the objects and 
 laws of nature, is perfoi-med. And, of the complex 
 states of consciousness, which the philosophy of 
 mind is called upon to explain, there is hardly one, in 
 which the feeling or idea of resistance is not included. 
 
 It is partly owing to this combination of something 
 
 ^^ Ratherj when we will to contract certain muscles, and the 
 contraction takes place, but is not followed by the accustomed 
 movement of the limb ; what follows, instead, being a sensation 
 of pressure, proportioned to the degree of the- contraction. It 
 is not the muscular contraction itself which is impeded by the 
 resisting object : that contraction takes place : but the out- 
 ward effect which it was the tendency, and perhaps the purpose, 
 of the muscular contraction to produce, fails to be produced. 
 —Ed, 
 
 ^^ It is unnecessary to advert to the operation of the WiU, (in 
 the first instance at least,) in considering the feelings of mus- 
 cular action. The will is the principal, but not the only, 
 source of our activity. The mere spontaneous vigour of the 
 system may put the muscles in motion. Likewise the muscular 
 pleasure itself operates, by the fundamental law of the will, 
 for its own continuance ; a process not commonly called 
 voluntary. In these circumstances, it seems advisable to con- 
 sider and describe the consciousness of muscular exertion by 
 itself, and without reference to the will, — B. 
 
CHAP. II.J IDEAS. 59 
 
 else with the muscular feeling, in all the states of con- 
 sciousness to which we have given names, that it is 
 so difficult to think of the mere muscular feeling by 
 itself ; that our notion of the muscular sensations is 
 so indistinct and obscure ; and that we can rather be 
 said to have ideas of certain general states of muscular 
 feeling, as of fatigue, or activity, composed of a great 
 number of individual feelings, than of the individual 
 feelings themselves. 
 
 8. As the feelings, or sensations which we have in 
 the intestinal canal, are almost always mixed up indis- 
 tinctly with other feelings, and, except in the cases of 
 acute pain, are seldom taken notice of but as consti- 
 tuting general states, we hardly have the power of 
 thinking of those sensations one by one ; and, in con- 
 sequence, can hardly be said to have ideas of them. 
 They are important, as forming component parts of 
 many complex ideas, which have great influence on 
 our happiness. But to unfold the mystery of complex 
 ideas, other parts of our mental process have yet to 
 be explained. 
 
 There is a certain distressful feeling, called the feel- 
 ing of bad health, which is considerably different in 
 different cases, but in which sensations of the intes- 
 tinal canal are almost always a material part. 
 
 Indigestion is the name of an idea, in which the 
 feehngs of the intestinal canal are mainly concerned. 
 
 Hunger, and thirst, are also names of ideas, which 
 chiefly refer to sensations in the same part of our 
 system.^* ^ 
 
 ^^ Thirst is a sensation of the fauces and of the stomach ; 
 it is also a feeling of the body generally, due to a deficiency 
 
60 IDEAS. [chap. II. 
 
 It is proper to remark, that, beside- the internal 
 feelings to which I have hitherto directed the reader s 
 attention, there are others, which might be classed, 
 and considered apart. Tlie blood-vessels, for example, 
 and motion of the blood, constitute an important part 
 of our System, not without feelings of its own ; feel- 
 ings sometimes amounting to states which seriously 
 command our attention. Of the feelings which 
 accompany fever, a portion may reasonably be as- 
 signed to the change of action in the blood-vessels. 
 
 There are states of feeling, very distinguishable, 
 
 of water in the blood. It is also caused by an excess of saline 
 ingredients in the system. In like manoer, a distinction is to 
 be drawn between Inanition, from deficiency of nutritive ma- 
 terial in the body, and Hunger, or the state of the stomach 
 preparatory to the act of eating. The two states must in a 
 great measure concur ; yet they may be distinct. 
 
 The account of the organic states given in this chapter 
 would have come in appropriately under Sensation — B. 
 
 ^^ I venture to think that it is not a philosophically correct 
 mode of expression, to speak of indigestion, or of hunger and 
 thirst, as names of ideas. Hunger and thirst are names of 
 definite sensations ; and indigestion is a name of a large group 
 of sensations, held together by very complicated laws of 
 causation. If it be objected, that the word indigestion, and 
 even the words hunger and thirst, comprehend in their meaning 
 other elements than the immediate sensations ; that the mean- 
 ing, for instance, of hunger, includes a deficiency of food, the 
 meaning of indigestion a derangement of the functions of the 
 digestive organs ; it still remains true that these additional 
 portions of meaning are physical phenomena, and are not our 
 thoughts or ideas of physical phenomena ; and must, therefore, 
 in the general partition of human consciousness between 
 sensations and ideas, take their place with the former, and not 
 with the latter. — Ed. 
 
CHAP. II.J IDEAS. 61 
 
 accompanying diseased states of the heart, and of the 
 nervous and arterial systems. 
 
 Beside the blood and its vessels, the glandular 
 system is an important part of the active organs of 
 the body ; not without sensibility, and of course, not 
 without habitual sensations. The same may be said 
 of the system of the absorbents, of the lymphatics, 
 and of the vascular system in general. 
 
 The state of the nerves and brain, the most 
 wonderful part of our system, is susceptible of 
 changes, and these changes are accompanied with 
 known changes of feeling. There is a class of dis- 
 eases which go by the name of nervous diseases : and 
 though they are not a very definite class ; though it 
 is not even very well ascertained how far any morbid 
 state of the nerves has to do with them ; it is not 
 doubtful that in some of those diseases there are 
 peculiar feelings, which ought to be referred to the 
 nerves. The nerves and brain may thus be, not only 
 the organs of sensations, derived from other senses, 
 but organs of sensations, derived from themselves. 
 On this subject we cannot speak otherwise than 
 obscurely, because we have not distinct names for the 
 things which are to be expressed. 
 
 It is not, however, necessary, in tracing the simple 
 feelings which enter into the more complex states of 
 consciousness, to dwell upon the obscurer classes of 
 oiir inward sensations ; because it is only in a veiy 
 general way that we can make use of them, in ex- 
 pounding the more mysterious phenomena. Having 
 never acquired the habit of attending to them, and 
 having, by the habit of inattention, lost the power of 
 remarking them, except in their general results, we 
 
62 IDEAS. [chap. II. 
 
 can do little more than satisfy ourselves of the cases 
 in which they enter for more or less of the effect. 
 
 We have now considered what it is to have sensa- 
 tions, in the simple, uncompounded cases ; and what 
 it is to have the secondary feelings, which are the 
 consequences of those sensations, and which we con- 
 sider as their copies, images, or representatives. If 
 the illustrations I have employed have enabled my 
 reader to familiarize himself with this part of his con- 
 stitution, he has made great progress towards the 
 solution of all that appears intricate in the pheno- 
 mena of the human mind. He has acquainted him- 
 self with the two primary states of consciousness ; the 
 varieties of which are very numerous ; and the possible 
 combinations of which are capable of composmg a 
 train of states of consciousness, the diversities of 
 which transcend the limits of computation.^ ^^ 
 
 '^^ The Sensation and the Idea compared, — Great importance, 
 in every way, attaches to the points of agreement and of diffe- 
 rence of the Sensation and of the Idea. By the Sensation, 
 ^ we mean the whole state of consciousness, under an actual or 
 present impression of sense, as in looking at the moon, in lis- 
 tening to music, in tasting wine. By the Idea is meant the 
 state of mind that remains after the sensible agent is with- 
 drawn, or that may be afterwards recovered by the force of re- 
 collection. 
 
 1. For many purposes the sensation and the idea are identi- 
 cal. They are compared to original and copy, which, although 
 not in all respects of equal value, can often answer the same 
 ends. A perfect recollection of a process that we wish to repeat, 
 is as good as actually seeing it. For all purposes of know- 
 ledge, and of practical guidance, a faithful remembrance is 
 equal to the real presence. So. as regards the emotional ideas, 
 or the recollection of states of pleasure and of pain, which 
 
CHAP. II.J IDEAS. 63 
 
 prompt our voluntary actionSj in pursuit and in avoidance, the 
 memory operates in the same way as the original fact, allowance 
 being made for difference of degree. A pleasing melody induces 
 us to listen to it, and to crave for its repetition ; the after recol- 
 lection of it, also moves us to hear it again. If we find our- 
 selves in the midst of distracting noises, we are impelled to 
 escape ; the mere remembrance, at an after time, has the 
 same influence on the will. 
 
 2. It is highly probable, if not certain, that the same ner- 
 vous tracks of the brain are actuated during the sensation, and 
 during the idea, with difference of degree corresponding to the 
 difference of vivacity or intensity of the actual and remem- 
 bered states. 
 
 Of the points wherein the Sensation and the Idea are found 
 to differ, the most obvious is their degree of intensity. We 
 are able to maintain in idea, the state of mind corresponding 
 to the sight of the sun, the sound of a bell, or the smell of a 
 rose, but we are conscious of a great inferiority in the degree or 
 vividness of the state. The bright luminosity of the original 
 sun turns into a feeble effect, without dazzle or excitement. 
 The thrill of a fine musical air cannot be sustained by the 
 mere memory of it, even in the freshness of the immediately 
 succeeding moment. A certain pleasing remembrance attaches 
 to a good dinner, but how far below the original ! Moreover, 
 in a complicated object of sense, a great many of the parts and 
 lineaments drop entirely out of view. Memory is unequal to 
 retaining, without long familiarity and practice, the exact pic- 
 ture of a landscape, a building, or an interior. The difference 
 in the fulness of the idea, as compared with the sensation, is 
 no less remarkable than the difference of vivacity or intensity. 
 This inferiority in the idea as compared with the actuality is 
 of very various amount ; being in some cases very great, and 
 in others very slight. The difference is in proportion to 
 the mind's power of retentiveness, a power varying according 
 to several circumstances or conditions, which have to be dis- 
 tinctly enunciated by the Psychologist. For example, it is 
 well known, that frequency of repetition enables the idea to 
 
64 IDEAS. [chap. II. 
 
 grow ia vivacity and in fulness, and to approximate in those 
 respects to the original. It is also known, that some minds 
 are by nature retentive, and, by a small number of repetitions, 
 gain the point that others reach only by a greater number. 
 
 Now, that the vivacity and fulness of a remembered idea 
 should constitute the exact measure of the mind's retentiveness 
 in that particular instance, is a thing of course. There is no 
 other measure of retentiveness but the power of reproducing 
 in idea, what has been before us, in actuality, or as sensation ; 
 and the greater the approach of the idea to the original sensa- 
 tion, the better is the retaining faculty. 
 
 There is an apparent exception to this general principle. 
 The memory of the same idea, or the same feeling, in the same 
 person, may be at one time full and vivid, and at another time 
 meagre and faint. In particular moments, we may recall for- 
 mer experiences with especial force, as if there were something 
 that co-operated with the proper force of retentiveness. What, 
 then, are these additional or concurring forces? Hume recog- 
 nises the influence of disease in giving preternatural intensity 
 to ideas. 
 
 The answer is that some other recollection concurs with, 
 and adds its quota to the support of, the one in question. 
 When, in the view of one natural prospect, we recall another 
 with great fulness, the present sensation supplies or fills in the 
 parts of the remembered scene ; which scene, therefore, does 
 not exist in the mind by memory alone, but as a compound of 
 memory and actuality. So while listening with pleasure to a 
 band of music, we remember strongly the pleasure of some 
 previous musical performance ; yet, the vivid consciousness of 
 the past is not dependent upon the memory of the past, but 
 upon the stimulus of the present ; we are more properly under 
 sensation, than under idea. In all mental resuscitation, there 
 is a degree of vividness and of fulness, due to the proper re- 
 tentiveness of the mind for each particular thing, according to 
 natural power, repetition, &c. Whatever is beyond this, must 
 be ascribed to the accidental concurrence of other stimulants 
 either of present sensation, or of remembered impressions. 
 
CHAP. II.] IDEAS. 65 
 
 In recollection J there is an influence designated by the term 
 '' excitement," which means that portions of the brain are in a 
 state of exalted activity. Any ideas embodied in the parts so 
 excited, if in operation at all, are more than ordinarily vivid. 
 Thus in fever, faded memories brighten up into vivacity and 
 clearness. To this case the same remark applies ; the result is 
 partly memory, or the proper retentiveness of the system, and 
 partly an excitation of the brain, through present influences. 
 The proper power of memory is a constant quantity, varying 
 only with repetition, and the strict conditions of memory ; 
 the intensity or fulness of a resuscitated idea is a complex 
 result of memory proper and present stimulants, or sensa- 
 tions. 
 
 Difference of vividness was the only distinction adverted to 
 by Hume in his Psychology, which resolved all our intellectual 
 elements into Impressions and Ideas. His opening words 
 are : — " All the perceptions of the human mind resolve them- 
 selves into two distinct kinds, which I shall call impressions 
 and ideas. The difference between these consists in the de- 
 grees of force and liveliness, with which they strike upon the 
 mind, and make their way into our thought or consciousness.'* 
 He afterwards allows that in particular circumstances, as in 
 sleep, in fever, or in madness, our ideas may approach in 
 vividness to our sensations. 
 
 Another distinction between the Sensation and the Idea, is 
 of the most vital importance. To the Sensation belongs Ob- 
 jective Reality ; the Idea is purely Subjective. This distinc- 
 tion lies at the root of the question of an External World ; but 
 on every view of that question, objectivity is connected with 
 the Sensation ; in contrast to which the Idea is an element 
 exclusively mental or subjective. 
 
 Meanings of Sensation. — The word Sensation has several 
 meanings, not always clearly distinguished, and causing serious 
 embroilments in philosophical controversy. 
 
 1. There being, in Sensation, the concurrence of a series of 
 physical or physiological facts with a mental fact, the name 
 may be inadvertently employed to express the physical, as well 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 IDEAS. [chap. II. 
 
 as the mental element, or at all events to include the physical 
 part as well as the mental. 
 
 The change made on the retina by light, and the nervous 
 influences traversing the brain, may very readily be considered 
 as entering into the phenomenon of sensation. This, however, 
 is an impropriety. The proper use of " Sensation" is to sig- 
 nify the mental fact, to the exclusion of all the physical pro- 
 cesses essential to its production. 
 
 2. In ordinary Sensation, as in looking round a room, there 
 is a double consciousness, — objective and subjective. In the 
 objective consciousness, we are affected with the qualities 
 named magnitude, distance, form, colour, &c. ; these are called 
 object properties, properties of the external and extended uni- 
 verse. In the subject consciousness, we are alive to states of 
 pleasure or of pain, which may go along with the other. We 
 do not usually exist in both modes at one instant ; we pass out 
 of one into the other. Now the word Sensation covers both, 
 although, to the object consciousness, " Perception'' is more 
 strictly applicable ; and in contrast to Perception, Sensation 
 would mean the subjective consciousness, the moments when 
 we relapse from the object attitude and become subjective or 
 self-conscious, or alive to pleasure and pain. When the mind 
 is in the object phase, it is neutral or indifferent as respects 
 enjoyment. 
 
 3. In Sensation, a distinction may be drawn between the 
 present effect upon the mind, or the impression that would arise 
 if the outward agent had operated for the first time, and the 
 total of the past impressions of the same agent, which by its 
 repetition are recalled to fuse with the present effect. The 
 present view of the moon reinstates the sum total of the pre- 
 vious views held by memory, and is not what we should ex- 
 perience if we saw the moon for the first time. Now, if the 
 recall of the previous impressions, or of the joint and iterated 
 idea, be considered an addition made by the Intellect, being 
 dependent on the retentive power of the mind, Sensation, as 
 opposed to Intellect, would mean the force of the present im- 
 pression and nothing more; or the difference between the 
 
CHAP. II.J IDEAS. 67 
 
 vividness of reality, and the inferior vividness of recollection. 
 What we can retain when we shut our eyes would represent 
 the force of our intelligence ; the additional intensity when we 
 resume our gaze, would represent the power of sensation or 
 the actual experience. 
 
 This distinction suggests an important remark as to the 
 whole nature of Sensation, namely, that there can hardly be 
 such a thing as pure Sensation, meaning Sensation without 
 any admixture of the Intellect. We may attribute this purity 
 to the earliest impressions made upon the mind, but not to 
 anything known in the experience of the adult. This mixture 
 of Intellect with Sense is not confined to Retentiveness ; the 
 other intell ectual functions, Discrimination and perception of 
 Agreement, are Inseparable from the exercise of the senses. 
 We cannot have a sensation without a feeling of difference; 
 warmth is a transition from cold, and a conscious discrimination 
 of the two facts. So, whenever we repeat a sensation, we have 
 the consciousness of the repetition, or agreement. Were not 
 these modes of consciousness present, we should have no sen- 
 sation, indeed no consciousness. There is thus no hard hne 
 between sense and intellect. The question as to the origin of 
 our Ideas in Sense is not a real question, until we explain what 
 we mean by Sense, and make allowance for this unavoidable 
 participation of Intellect in sensation, 
 
 4. Sensation is commonly used to -employ the whole of our 
 primary feelings and susceptibilities, as opposed to the Emo- 
 tions which are secondary or derived. It thus confounds 
 together two different sides of our susceptibility, the active and 
 the passive ; the feelings arising in connection with our exer- 
 tion of inward force or energy, and those arising under impres- 
 sions from external things. Both are primary states of 
 consciousness ; they are alike dependent on modifications of 
 our sensitive tissues. But, between the two, there is a contrast, 
 wide, deep, and fundamental, completely missed by the older 
 Psychologists, to the detriment of their handling of such vital 
 questions as the origin of knowledge, and the perception of a 
 material world. The name Sensation, pointing immediately to 
 
 F 2 ' 
 
68 IDEAS. [chap. II. 
 
 the operation of the five senses, gave the slip to the feelings of 
 energy, or brought them in partially and inadequately. Yet it 
 is the only name we have for the primary susceptibilities of 
 the organism — including both movement and passive sensi- 
 bility.— 5. 
 
 ^ A question which, as far as I know, has been passed over 
 by psychologists, but which ought not to be left unanswered, is 
 this : Can we have ideas of ideas ? We have sensations, and 
 we have copies of these sensations, called ideas of them : can 
 we also have copies of these copies, constituting a second order 
 of ideas, two removes instead of one from sensation ? 
 
 Every one will admit that we can think of a thought. We 
 remember ourselves remembering, or imagine ourselves remem- 
 bering, an object or an event, just as we remember or imagine 
 ourselves seeing one. But in the case of a simple idea of sen- 
 sation, i.e. the idea or remembrance of a single undivided 
 sensation, there seems nothing to distinguish the idea of the 
 idea, from the idea of the sensation itself. When I imagine 
 myself thinking of the colour of snow, I am not aware of any 
 difference, even in degree of intensity, between the image then 
 present to my mind of the white colour, and the image present 
 when I imagine myself to be seeing the colour. 
 
 The case, however, is somewhat different with those com- 
 binations of simple ideas which have never been presented to 
 my mind otherwise than as ideas. I have an idea of Pericles ; 
 but it is derived only from the testimony of history : the real 
 Pericles never was present to my senses. I have an idea of 
 Hamlet, and of Falstaff; combinations which, though made up 
 of ideas of sensation, never existed at all in the world of sense ; 
 they never were anything more than ideas in any mind. Yet, 
 having had these combinations of ideas presented to me 
 through the words of Shakespeare, I have formed what is 
 properly an idea not of an outward object, but of an idea in 
 Shakespeare's mind; and I may communicate my idea to 
 others, whose idea will then be an idea of an idea in my mind. 
 My idea of Pericles, or my idea of any person now alive whom I 
 have never seen, differs from these in the circumstance that I 
 
CHAP. II.] IDEAS. 69 
 
 am persuaded that a real object corresponding to the idea does 
 now, or did once, exist in the world of sensation : but as I did 
 not derive my idea from the object, but from some other 
 person's words, my idea is not a copy of the original, but a 
 copy (more or less imperfect) of some other person's copy : it 
 is an idea of an idea. 
 
 Although, however, the complex idea I have of an object 
 which never was presented to my senses, is rightly described as 
 an idea of an idea ; my remembrance of a complex idea which 
 I have had before, does not seem to me to differ from the re- 
 membered idea as an idea differs from a sensation. There is 
 a distinction between my visual idea of Mont Blanc and the 
 actual sight of the mountain, which I do not find between my 
 remembrance of Falstaff and the original impression from which 
 it was derived. My present thought of Falstaff seems to me 
 not a copy but a repetition of the original idea ; a repetition 
 which may be dimmed by distance, or which may, on the con- 
 trary, be heightened by intermediate processes of thought ; may 
 have lost some of its features by lapse of time, and may have 
 acquired others by reference to the original sources ; but which 
 resembles the first impression not as the thought of an object 
 resembles the sight of it, but as a second or third sight of an 
 object resembles the first. This question will meet us again in 
 the psychological examination of Memory, the theory of w^hich 
 is in no small degree dependent upon it. — Ed, 
 
70 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 
 
 " To have a clear view of the phenomena of the mind, as mere 
 affections or states of it, existing successively, and in a certain 
 series, which we are able, therefore, to predict, in consequence of 
 our knowledge of the past, is, I conceive, to have made the most 
 important acquisition which the intellectual inquirer can make.'* 
 
 Brown, Lectures, i. 544;. 
 
 V 
 
 Thought succeeds tliought ; idea follows idea, in- 
 cessantly. If our senses are awake, we are continually 
 receiving sensations, of the eye, the ear, the touch, 
 and so forth ; but not sensations alone. After sensa- 
 tions, ideas are perpetually excited of sensations 
 formerly received ; after those ideas, other ideas : and 
 during the whole of our lives, a series of those two 
 states of conscioTisness, called sensations, and ideas, is 
 constantly going on. I see a horse : that is a sensa- 
 tion. Immediately I think of his master : that is an 
 idea. The idea of his master makes me think of his 
 office ; he is a minister of state : that is another idea. 
 The idea of a minister of state makes me think of 
 pubhc affairs ; and I am led into a train of political 
 ideas ; when I am summoned to dinner. This is a 
 new sensation, followed by the idea of dinner, and of 
 the company with whom I am to partake it. The 
 sight of the company and of the food are other sen- 
 
CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 71 
 
 sations ; these suggest ideas without end ; other sen- 
 sations perpettially intervene, suggesting other ideas : 
 and SO the process goes on. 
 
 In contemplating this train of feelings, of which 
 our lives consist, it first of all strikes the contem- 
 plator, as of importance to ascertain, whether they 
 occur casually and irregularly, or according to a cer- 
 tain order. 
 
 With respect to the sensations, it is obvious enough 
 that they occur, according to the order established 
 among what we call the objects of nature, whatever 
 those objects are] to ascertain more and more of 
 which order is the business of physical philosophy in 
 all its branches. 
 
 Of the order established among the objects of nature, 
 by which we mean the objects of our senses, two re- 
 markable cases are all which here we are called upon 
 to notice ; the synchronous order, and the suc- 
 cessive ORDER. The synchronous order, or order of 
 simultaneous existence, is the order in space ; the suc- 
 cessive order, or order of antecedent and consequent 
 existence, is the order in time. Thus the various ob- 
 jects in my room, the chairs, the tables, the books, 
 have the synchronous order, or order in space. The 
 falling of the spark, and the explosion of the gun- 
 powder, have the successive order, or order in time. 
 
 A.ccording to this order, in the objects of sense, 
 there is a synchronous, and a successive, order of our 
 sensations. I have synchronically, or at the same 
 instant, the sight of a great variety of objects ; touch 
 of all the objects with which my body is in contact ; 
 hearing of all the sounds which are reaching my ears ; 
 smelling of all the smells which are reaching my 
 
72 THE ASSOCIATION»F IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 nostrils ; taste of the apple which I am eating ; the 
 sensation of resistance both from the apple which is 
 in my mouth, and the ground on which I stand ; 
 with the sensation of motion from the act of walking. 
 I have SUCCESSIVELY the sight of the flash from the 
 mortar fired at a distance, the hearing of the report, 
 the sight of the bomb, and of its motion in the air, 
 the sight of its fall, the sight and hearing of its ex- 
 plosion, and lastly, the sight of all the effects of that 
 explosion. ^^ 
 
 ^^ There is here raised the interesting and important ques- 
 tion, how far are we able to entertain synchronous sensations ; 
 in other words, whether or not we can be cognisant of a 
 plurality of sensations at the same instant of time. There 
 are various circumstances tending to obscure this point ; the 
 chief being the extreme rapidity of our mental transitions. 
 
 It is requisite to view the question from two sides, the side 
 of sensation and the side of action. On the first, the appear- 
 ances are more in favour of plurality ; on the second, more in 
 favour of unity. 
 
 As regards Sensation, we are incessantly solicited by a 
 variety of agencies, outward and inward. We may be roused 
 into consciousness, through the eye, through the ear, through 
 the touch, through the taste, through the smell, through the 
 organic sensibilities ; and ail this at the same time with the rise 
 of emotions or ideas through purely mental causes. 2s ay more ; 
 even under a single sense, we may have a plurality of dis- 
 tinguishable impressions. Sight is the greatest example. 
 Hearing is little inferior ; witness the complexity of a band of 
 music, and the tumult of a stormy sea. In Touch, likewise, 
 we may have a plurality of distinguishable feelings of contact 
 over the body. 
 
 The point to be considered, then, is, how many of these 
 multitudinous effects, strictly synchronous in their occurrence 
 are capable of operating synchronously, either in directino- 
 
CHAP. III.J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 73 
 
 Among the objects which I have thus observed 
 synchronically, or successively ; that is, from which I 
 
 the thoughts, or in impressing the memory. How many of 
 them are able to work the smallest assignable change upon the 
 consciousness ? To all appearance, more than one at a time. 
 
 Consider first the two senses most concerned in developing 
 (out of muscular feeling as the basis) the notion of Space 
 or Extension ; that is, Touch and Sight. It will be enough 
 to comment upon Sight. The eye, as is known, takes in a 
 wide prospect ; the retinas of the two eyes combined can em- 
 brace a large fraction of the surrounding visible sphere. Now, 
 the attention at any one moment is confined to a limited 
 portion: the precise limits are not here considered; there 
 being a complication of action with sensation proper, which 
 will be adverted to afterwards. But, notwithstanding this 
 confinement of the attention, there is a consciousness of the 
 whole visible expanse ; as is proved in the case of any sudden 
 change at any part ; the attention is then instantly diverted to 
 that part. We might say that there is, at every moment, a 
 ramified area of sensibility, at its maximum in the centre — the 
 line of direction of the eyes, and decreasing to the extremity 
 or circumference of the visible expanse. To one gazing at 
 the heavens, the flash of a meteor would be felt throughout 
 the whole a "ea of visibility ; while it would be more certain in 
 its effect, the nearer it was to the line of perfect vision, which 
 is the place of special attention. A faint corruscation arising 
 near the circumference might pass unheeded, 
 
 Next as to the sense of Hearing. Peculiar difficulties 
 attend the explanation of this sense. There is only one main 
 line of access to the inner ear, where the nerves are distributed, 
 namely, the solid chain of bones of the middle ear ; and that 
 line can hardly be supposed capable of conveying at the same 
 instant a plurality of different series of vibrations. Yet we 
 fancy that we hear a concurring plurality of sounds. Of 
 what avail would be a band of a hundred performers if there 
 were no power of taking in simultaneous pulses of sound ? 
 
74 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 have had synchronical or successive sensations ; there 
 are some which I have so observed frequently ; others 
 
 There is, however, an absence of accurate investigation of thi^ 
 point ; no one has endeavoured to ascertain how much of the 
 complex effect is due to the rapid transitions of the ear from 
 one sound to another, how much to the concurrence of several 
 series of pulses in one augmented series, and how much to the 
 composition of successive effects in the ear into a synchronous 
 whole in the emotional wave, or general excitement of the 
 brain. It will be found, by any careful observer, that in 
 listening to a band, we are really occupied with very few of 
 the sounds at the same instant of time ; we perform a number 
 of rapid movements of the attention from one to another ; 
 while, at each moment, we are under an influence remaining 
 from the recently occurring beats, to which we are not now 
 giving our full attention. 
 
 Touch is exactly parallel to Sight, and need not be dwelt 
 upon. In Smell, and in Taste, we may have a plurality of 
 distinguishable effects at one moment : we often experience 
 complex odours and tastes. The above remarks will apply to 
 these. The undoubted tendency of the mind is to single out, 
 for attention, the separate constituents by turns, and to pass 
 with rapidity from one to another ; while it is also true that 
 the individual effects that are for the moment seemingly 
 neglected, still exercise an influence on the consciousness ; 
 which would be decisively shown (as in the case of sight) on 
 any occasion of their suddenly increasing in force, or suddenly 
 vanishing. Also, in their state of having fallen out of atten- 
 tion, they still leave an influence to modify the present sensa- 
 tion, the effect of their being attended to in the previous in- 
 stant. "Until we can measure the rapidity of those transitions 
 of the attention, we are not in a position to affirm absolutely 
 the power of double, triple, or multiple attention, although to 
 all practical intents such a power is possessed. 
 
 It is certain that the mind is every moment actuated and 
 determined by a plurality of influences, impressions, consider- 
 
CHAP. iii.J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 75 
 
 which I have so observed not frequently : in other 
 words, of my sensations some have been frequently 
 
 ations, thoughts. Almost every act of the will is a resultant 
 of many motives. Our thoughts seldom spring up at the 
 instance of a simple link of association ; although it may 
 happen that some one link is sufficing and overpowering, and 
 therefore governs the recall ; yet there are almost always others 
 aiding or checking the particular resuscitation. Nevertheless, 
 such complication of antecedents is not inconsistent with the 
 theory of very rapid transitions of attention, there being a 
 certain persisting influence from each separate act. There 
 would, however, be a greater theoretical simplicity, as well as 
 a less appearance of straining a point, if we could suppose 
 that the several conspiring agencies unite in a strictly syn- 
 chronous whole. 
 
 Let us next view the question from the side of Activity. 
 Here the circumstance that would most decisively limit the 
 power of attention, and impose an absolute unity (qualified by 
 rapidity of transition) is the singleness of the muscular execu- 
 tive. No one organ can perform two movements at the same 
 instant. Plurality can arise only by the separate organs per- 
 forming separate actions. 
 
 In such a case as playing on the pianoforte, there is a very 
 complicated series of muscular exertions. The eyes are occu- 
 pied with the printed music ; both hands are exerted, and 
 every finger performs a separate note ; the foot also may be 
 brought into action. At the same time, the ear has to be on 
 the alert. The plurality is here very great; yet it seems much 
 greater than it is. For, at the stage when such a performance 
 is possible, there is a great amount of acquirement; many 
 synchronous groupings have been made by long repetition, so 
 as to dispense with attendiug to the several acts in separation. 
 The real attention is concentrated on one, or on a very few 
 acts ; so few that it is not impossible for them to be com- 
 manded by the mere rapidity of transition from one to another. 
 The performer need not attend to the notes of the music, and 
 
76 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. ill. 
 
 synchronical, others not frequently ; some frequently 
 successive, others not frequently. Thus, my sight of 
 
 to the action of the fingers at the same absolute instant of 
 time. 
 
 It is in the case of commencing some act entirely new to 
 us, that the limitation of the muscular executive is most ap- 
 parent, in learning the first elements of any accomplishment 
 by imitating a master, the whole attention is concentrated on 
 single movements ; at one instant on the master, and the 
 next instant on the act of imitating ; the only synchronous 
 addition to this last being the remaining trace of the impres- 
 sion of the model. If the act is complicated, and requires 
 concurring movements of different organs, the attention, at 
 the outset, must be given to one at a time ; the conjunction of 
 independent movements is not a primitive, but an acquired 
 power. Previous to acquired groupings, the restriction of the 
 attention to one movement is the rule. 
 
 Let us now consider the senses as compounded of passive 
 sensation and movement. The eye, for example, is a moving 
 organ under the command of the will ; both eyes being moved 
 in one indivisible volition. Visual attention consists some- 
 times in moving the eyes to and fro, at other times, in fixing 
 them in one immoveable attitude. We have seen that so far 
 as the optical sensibility is concerned, there is at each instant 
 an effective impression of a wide area, although of very 
 unequal distinctness. The impressions derived from the 
 movements of the eye are much more limited. At the same 
 absolute instant of time, we can scan only a very small por- 
 tion ; say the outline of some isolated form, or the trace of an 
 isolated movement. We can run rapidly round the circum- 
 ference of a round body, or along the edge of a cubical block. 
 In looking at a tree, we perform a series of muscular sweeps, 
 scarcely including, at one time, more than a single outline 
 course. No doubt our optical sensibility is receiving, in a 
 faint way, a complicated superficies ; yet the ocular sweep, on 
 which we depend for our ideas of form, can hardly be supposed 
 
CHAP. lli.J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 77 " 
 
 roast beef, and my taste of roast beef, have been fre- 
 quently SYNCHBOisriCAL ; my smell of a rose, and my 
 sight and touch of a rose, have been frequently syn- 
 chronical ; my sight of a stone, and my sensations of 
 its hardness, and weight, have been frequently syn- 
 chronicaL Others of my sensations have not been 
 frequently synchronical : my sight of a lion, and the 
 hearing of his roar ; my sight of a knife, and its 
 stabbing a man. My sight of the flash of lightning, 
 and my hearing of the thunder, have been often SXTC- 
 CESsrvE ; the pain of cold, and the pleasure of heat, 
 have been often successive ; the sight of a trumpet, 
 and the sound of a trumpet, have been often succes- 
 sive. On the other hand, my sight of hemlock, and 
 my taste of hemlock, have not been often successive : 
 and so on. 
 
 It so happens, that, of the objects from which we 
 derive the greatest part of our sensations, most of 
 those which are observed synchronically, are frequently 
 observed synchronically ; most of those which are 
 observed successively, are fr-equently observed succes- 
 sively. In other words, most of our synchronical 
 sensations, have been frequently synchronical ; most 
 of our successive sensations, have been frequently 
 successive. Thus, most of our synchronical sensa- 
 tions are derived from the objects around us, the ob- 
 jects which we have the most frequent occasion to 
 hear and see ; the members of our family ; the fiu:ni- 
 ture of our houses ; our food ; the instruments of 
 
 to take more than one line at the same instant. The rapidity 
 of transition is very great ; but there is a conscious transition 
 when we ^vish to combine the impression of a circle inscribed 
 in a square. — B. 
 
78 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [chap. III. 
 
 our occupations or amusements. In like manner, of 
 those sensations which we have had in succession, we 
 have had the greatest number repeatedlyin succession ; 
 the sight of fire, and its warmth ; the touch of snow, 
 and its cold ; the sight of food, and its taste. 
 
 Thus much with regard to the order of sensations ; 
 next with regard to the order of ideas. 
 
 As ideas are not derived from objects, we should 
 not expect their order to be derived from the order of 
 objects ; but as they are derived from sensations, we 
 might by analogy expect, that they would derive their 
 order from that of the sensations; and this to a great 
 extent is the case. 
 
 Our ideas spring up, or exist, in the order in 
 which the sensations existed, of which they are the 
 copies. 
 
 This is the general law of the "Association of 
 Ideas" ; by which term, let it be remembered, nothing 
 is here meant to be expressed, but the order of occur- 
 rence. 
 
 In this law, the following things are to be carefiilly 
 observed. 
 
 1. Of those sensations which occurred synchro- 
 nicaUy, the ideas also spring up synchronically. I 
 have seen a violin, and heard the tones of the violin, 
 synchronically. If I think of the tones of the viohn, 
 the visible appearance of the violin at the same time 
 occurs to me. I have seen the sun, and the sky in 
 which it is placed, synchronically. If I think of the 
 one, I think of the other at the same time. 
 
 One of the cases of synchronical sensation, which 
 deserves the most particular attention, is, that of the 
 several sensations derived from one and the same ob- 
 
CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 79 
 
 ject ; a stone, for example, a flower, a table, a chair, a 
 horse, a man. 
 
 From a stone I have had, synchronically, the sen- 
 sation of colour, the sensation of hardness, the 
 sensations of shape, and size, the sensation of weight. 
 When the idea of one of these sensations occurs, the 
 ideas of all of them occur, ^^ They exist in my mind 
 synchronically ; and their synchronical existence is 
 called the idea of the stone ; which, it is thus plain, 
 is not a single idea, but a number of ideas in a par- 
 ticular state of combination. 
 
 Thus, again, I have smelt a rose, and looked at, 
 and handled a rose, synchronically ; accordingly the 
 name rose suggests to me all those ideas synchronically; 
 and this combiaation of those simple ideas is called 
 my idea of the rose. 
 
 My idea of an animal is still more complex. The 
 
 ^^ This must be qualified by the fact that the same individual 
 sensation may be found in many groupings, and therefore may 
 not bring up any one aggregate or concrete object in particular. 
 The colour, white, is seen in conjunction with many dififerent 
 shapes, magnitudes, and weight ; consequently it does not 
 suggest a specific shape or magnitude. In such a case, the 
 recall may be very various according to circumstances ; some 
 individual may have a greater prominence than the rest, and 
 be singled out on that ground ; two or three may be brought 
 to view ; or a still greater number may be revived. 
 
 This is an important limitation of the working of the asso- 
 ciating principle. An individual thing is not restored, as a 
 matter of course, unless the link of connexion points to it alone ; 
 as is often effected by a plurality of bonds. Thus a musical 
 air is not suggested until as many notes are heard as to dis- 
 tinguish it from every other known air. — B. 
 
80 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 word thrush, for example, not only suggests an idea 
 of a particLilar colour and shape, and size, but of song, 
 and flight, and nestling, and eggs, and callow young, 
 and others. 
 
 My idea of a man is the most complex of all ; in- 
 cluding not only colour, and shape, and voice, but the 
 whole class of events in which I have observed him 
 either the agent or the patient. 
 
 2. As the ideas of the sensations which occurred 
 synchronically, rise synchronically, so the ideas of 
 the sensations which occurred successively, rise suc- 
 cessively. 
 
 Of this important case of association, or of the 
 successive order of our ideas, many remarkable in- 
 stances might be adduced. Of these none seems 
 better adapted to the learner than the repetition of 
 any passage, or words ; the Lord's Prayer, for ex- 
 ample, committed to memory. In learning the 
 passage, we repeat it ; that is, we pronounce the 
 words, in successive order, from the beginning to the 
 end. The order of the sensations is successive. 
 When we proceed to repeat the passage, the ideas of 
 the words also rise in succession, the preceding always 
 suggesting the succeeding, and no other. Our sug- 
 gests Father, Father suggests which, which suggests 
 art ; and so on, to the end. How remarkably this is 
 the case, any one may convince himself, by trying to 
 repeat backwards, even a passage with which he is as 
 famihar as the Lord's Prayer. The case is the same 
 with numbers. A man can go on with the numbers 
 in the progressive order, one, two, three, &c. scarcely 
 thinking of his act ; and though it is possible for him 
 to repeat them backward, because he is accustomed 
 
CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 81 
 
 to subtraction of numbers, he cannot do so without 
 an effort. 
 
 Of "witnesses in courts of justice it has been re- 
 marked, that eye-witnesses, and ear- witnesses, always 
 tell their story in the chronological order ; in other 
 words, the ideas occur to them in the order in which 
 the sensations occurred ; on the other hand, that 
 witnesses, who are inventing, rarely adhere to the 
 chronological order. 
 
 3. A far greater number of our sensations are re- 
 ceived in the successive, than in the synchronical order. 
 Of our ideas, also, the number is infinitely greater that 
 rise in the successive than the synchronical order. 
 
 4. In the successive order of ideas, that which 
 precedes, is sometimes called the suggesting, that 
 which succeeds, the suggested idea; not that anypowei' 
 is supposed to reside in the antecedent over the conse- 
 quent; suggesting, and suggested, mean only antece- 
 dent and consequent, with the additional idea,thatsuch 
 order is not casual, but, to a certain degree, permanent. 
 
 5. Of the antecedent and consequent feelings, or 
 the suggesting, and suggested ; the antecedent may be 
 either sensations or ideas ; the consequent are always 
 ideas. An idea may be excited either by a sensation 
 or an idea. The sight of the dog of my friend is a 
 sensation, and it excites the idea of my friend. The 
 idea of Professor Dugald Stewart delivering a lecture, 
 recalfe the idea of the delight with which I heard him ; 
 that, the idea of the studies in which it engaged me ; 
 that, the trains of thought which succeeded ; and each 
 epoch of my mental history, the succeeding one, till 
 the present moment ; in which I am endeavouring to 
 present to others what appears to me valuable an^ong 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
82 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 the innumerable ideas of which this lengthened train 
 has been composed. 
 
 6. As there are degrees in sensation, and degrees 
 in ideas ; for one sensation is more vivid than another 
 sensation, one idea more vivid than another idea ; so 
 there are degrees in association. One association, we 
 say, is stronger than another : First, when it is more 
 permanent than another : Secondly, when it is per- 
 formed with more certainty : Thirdly, when it is per- 
 formed with more facility. 
 
 It is well known, that some associations are very 
 transient, others very permanent. The case which we 
 formerly mentioned, that of repeating words com- 
 mitted to memory, affords an apt illustration. In 
 some cases, we can perform the repetition, when a few 
 hours, or a few days have elapsed ; but not after a longer 
 period. In others, we can perform it after the lapse 
 of many years. There are few children in whose 
 minds some association has not been formed between 
 darkness and ghosts. In some this association is soon 
 dissolved; in some it continues for life.^^ 
 
 In some cases the association takes place with less, 
 in some with greater certainty. Thus, in repeating 
 words, I am not sure that I shall not commit mis- 
 takes, if they are imperfectly got ; and I may at one 
 
 '^ The difference between transient and permanent recollec- 
 tions turns entirely upon the strength of the association. 
 There is not one specific mode of association suited to tem- 
 porary recollection and another to permanent ; the permanent 
 contains the temporary, as the greater does the less. The 
 reason why a feebler association will suffice for temporary 
 purposes, is that a recent impression still retains somethin^y <.f 
 the hold of a present reality. The chords struck during the 
 
CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 83 
 
 trial repeat them right, at another wrong : I am sure 
 of always repeating those correctly, which I have got 
 perfectly. Thus, in my native language, the associa- 
 tion between the name and the thing is certain ; in 
 ^ language with which I am imperfectly acquainted, 
 not certain. In expressing myself in my own lan- 
 guage, the idea of the thing suggests the idea of the 
 name with certainty. In speaking a language with 
 which I am imperfectly acquainted, the idea of the 
 thing does not with certainty suggest the idea of the 
 name ; at one time it may, at another not. 
 
 That ideas are associated in some cases with more, 
 in some with less facility, is strikingly illustrated by 
 the same instance, of a language with which we are 
 well, and a language with which we are imperfectly, 
 acquainted. In speaking our own language, we are 
 not conscious of any effort ; the associations between 
 the words and the ideas appear spontaneous. In 
 endeavouring to speak a language with which we are 
 imperfectly acquainted, we are sensible of a painful 
 effort : the associations between the words and ideas 
 being not ready, or immediate. 
 
 7. The causes of strength in association seem all to 
 be resolvable into two ; the vividness of the associated 
 feelings ; and the frequency of the association. 
 
 In general, we convey not a very precise meaning, 
 
 actual presence have not ceased to vibrate. It is difficult to 
 estimate with precision the influence of recency; we know it 
 to be very considerable. A thing distinctly remembered for a few 
 hours will be forgotten, or else held as a mere fragment, at the 
 end of a month ; while anything that persists for two or three 
 months may be considered as independent of the power of 
 recency, and may last for years. — B, 
 
 G 2 
 
84 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAP. III. 
 
 when we speak of the vividness of sensations and ideas. 
 We may be understood when we say that, generally 
 speaking, the sensation is more vivid than the idea ; 
 or the primary, than the secondary feeling ; though in 
 dreams, and in dehrium, ideas are mistaken for sensa- 
 tions. But when we say that one sensation is more 
 vivid than another, there is much more uncertainty. 
 We can distinguish those sensations which are pleasu- 
 rable, and those which are painful, from such as are not 
 so ; and when we call the pleasurable and painful more 
 vivid, than those which are not so, we speak intelli- 
 gibly. We can also distinguish degrees of pleasure, 
 and of pain ; and when we call the sensation of the 
 higher degree more vivid than the sensation of the 
 lower degree, we may again be considered as express- 
 ing a meaning tolerably precise. 
 
 In calling one idea more vivid than another, if we 
 confine the appellation to the ideas of such sensations 
 as may with precision be called more or less vivid ; 
 the sensations of pleasure and pain, in their various 
 degrees, compared with sensations which we do not 
 call either pleasurable or painful ; our language will 
 still have a certain degree of precision. But what is 
 the meaning which I annex to my words, w-hen I say, 
 that my idea of the taste of the pine-apple which I 
 tasted yesterday is vivid ; my idea of the taste of the 
 foreign fruit which I never tasted but once in early 
 hfe, is not vivid ? If I mean that I can more certainly 
 distinguish the more recent, than the more distant 
 sensation, there is still some precision in my language ; 
 because it seems true of all my senses, that if I com- 
 pare a distant sensation with a present, I am less sure 
 of its being or not being a repetition of the same, than 
 
CHAP. lii.J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 85 
 
 if I compare a recent sensation with a present one. 
 Thus, if I yesterday had a smell of a very peculiar 
 kind, and compare it with a present smell, I can judge 
 more accurately of the agreement or disagreement of 
 the two sensations, than if I compared the present 
 with one much more remote. The same is the case 
 with colours, with sounds, with feehngs of touch, and 
 of resistance. It is therefore sufficiently certain, that 
 the idea of the more recent sensation affords the means 
 of a more accurate comparison, generally, than the 
 idea of the more remote sensation. And thus we 
 have three cases of vividness, of which we can speak 
 with some precision : the case of sensations, as com- 
 pared with ideas ; the case of pleasurable and painful 
 sensations, and their ideas, as compared with those 
 which are not pleasurable or painful ; and the case 
 of the more recent, compared with the more remote.^ 
 
 ^^ If it be admitted that in the three cases here specified the 
 word vividness, as applied to our impressions, has a definite 
 nieaniDg, it seems to follow that this meaning may be extended 
 in the way of analogy, to other cases than these. There are, 
 for example, sensations which differ from some other sensations 
 like fainter feelings of the same kind, in much the same manner 
 as the idea of a sensation diflPersfrom the sensation itself: and 
 we may, by extension, call these sensations less vivid. Again, 
 one idea may differ from another idea in the same sort of way in 
 which the idea of a sensation had long ago differs from that of 
 a similar sensation received recently ; that is, it is a more faded 
 copy — its colours and its outlines are more effaced : this idea 
 may fairly be said to be less vivid than the other. 
 
 The author himself, a few pages farther on, speaks of 
 some complex ideas as being more *' obscure" than others, 
 merely on account of their greater complexity. Obscurity, 
 
■Ny' 
 
 86 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. HI. 
 
 That the association of two ideas, but for once, 
 does, in some cases, give them a very strong con- 
 nection, is within the sphere of every man's experience. 
 The most remarkable cases are probably those of pain 
 and pleasure. Some persons who have experienced a 
 very painful surgical operation, can never afterwards 
 bear the sight of the operator, however strong the 
 
 indeed, in this case, means a different quality from the absence 
 of vividness, but a quality fully as indefinite. 
 
 Mr. Bain, whose view of the subject will be found further 
 on, drawti a fundamental distinction (already indicated in a 
 former note) between the attributes which belong to a sensation 
 regarded in an intellectual point of view, as a portion of onr 
 knowledge, and those which belong to the element of Feeling 
 contained in it; Feeling being here taken in the narrower 
 acceptation of the word, that in which Feeling is opposed to 
 Intellect or Thought. To sensations in their intellectual 
 as^ject Mr. Bain considers the term vividness to be inapplicable : 
 they can only be distinct or indistinct. He reserves the word 
 vividness to express the degree of intensity of the sensation, 
 considered in what may be called its emotional aspect, whether 
 of pleasure, of pain, or of mere excitement. 
 
 Whether we accept this restriction or not, it is in any case 
 certain, that the property of producing a strong and durable 
 association without the aid of repetition, belongs principally 
 to our pleasures and pains. The more intense the pain or 
 pleasure, the more promptly and powerfully does it associate 
 itself with its accompanying circumstances, even with those 
 which are only accidentally present. In the cases mentioned 
 in the text, a single occurrence of the painful sensation is 
 sufficient to produce an association, which neither time can 
 wear out nor counter- associations dissolve, between the idea of 
 the pain and the ideas of the sensations which casually accom- 
 panied it in that one instance, however Intrinsically indifferent 
 these may be. — Ed, 
 
CHAP. iii.J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 87 
 
 gratitude which they may actually feel towards him. 
 The meaning is, that the sight of the operator, by a 
 strong association, calls up so vividly the idea of the 
 pain of the operation, that it is itself a pain. The 
 spot on which a tender maiden parted with her lover, 
 when he embarked on the voyage from which he never 
 returned, cannot afterwards be seen by her without an 
 agony of grief. 
 
 These cases, also, furnish an apt illustration of the 
 superiority which the sensation possesses over the 
 idea, as an associating cause. Though the sight of 
 the surgeon, the sight of the place, would awaken the 
 ideas which we have described, the mere thought of 
 them might be attended with no peculiar effect. 
 Those persons who have the association of frightful 
 objects with darkness, and who are transported with 
 terrors when placed in the dark, can still think of 
 darkness without any emotion. 
 
 The same cases furnish an illustration of the effect 
 of recency on the strengh of association. The sight, 
 of the affecting spot by the maiden, of the surgeon by 
 the patient, would certainly produce a more intense 
 emotion, after a short, than after a long interval. 
 With most persons, time would weaken, and at last 
 dissolve, the association. 
 
 So much with regard to vividness, as a cause of 
 strong associations. Next, we have to consider 
 frequency or repetition ; which is the most remarkable 
 and important cause of the streng-th of our associations. 
 
 Of any two sensations, frequently perceived to- 
 gether, the ideas are associated. Thus, at least, in the 
 minds of Englishmen, the idea of a soldier, and the 
 idea of a red coat are associated ', the idea of a clergy- 
 
88 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 man, and the idea of a black coat ; the idea of a 
 quaker, and of a broad-brimmed hat ; the idea of a 
 woman and the idea of petticoats. A peculiar taste 
 suggests the idea of an apple ; a peculiar smell the 
 idea of a rose. If I have heard a particular air 
 frequently sung by a particular person, the hearing of 
 the air suggests the idea of the person. 
 
 The most remarkable exemplification of the effect of 
 degrees of frequency, in producing degrees of strength 
 in the associations, is to be found in the cases in 
 which the association is purposely and studiously 
 contracted ; the cases in which we learn something ; 
 the use of words, for example. 
 
 Every child learns the language which is spoken by 
 those around him. He also learns it by degrees. He 
 learns first the names of the most familiar objects ; and 
 among familiar objects, the names of those which he 
 most frequently has occasion to name ; himself, his 
 nurse, his food, his playthings. 
 
 A sound heard once in conjunction with another 
 sensation ; the word mamma, for example, with the 
 sight of a woman, would produce no greater effect on 
 the child, than the conjunction of any other sensation, 
 which once exists and is gone for ever. But if the 
 word mamma is frequently pronounced, in conjunction 
 with the sight of a particular woman, the sound will 
 by degrees become associated with the sight ; and as 
 the pronouncing of the name will call up the idea of 
 the woman, so the sight of the woman will call up the 
 idea of the name. 
 
 The process becomes very perceptible to us, when, 
 at years of reflection, we proceed to learn a dead or 
 foreign language. At the first lesson, we are told, or 
 
CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 89 
 
 we see in the dictionary, the meaning of perhaps 
 twenty words. But it is not joining the word and its 
 meaning once, that will make the word suggest its 
 meaning to us another time. We repeat the two in 
 conjunction, till we think the meaning so well asso- 
 ciated with the word, that whenever the word occurs 
 to us, the meaning will occur along with it. We are 
 often deceived in this anticipation ; and finding that 
 the meaning is not suggested by the word, we have to 
 renew the process of repetition, and this, perhaps, 
 again, and again. By force of repetition the meaning 
 is associated, at last, with every word of the language, 
 and so perfectly, that the one never occurs to us with- 
 out the other. 
 
 Learning to play on a musical instrument is another 
 remarkable illustration of the effect of repetition in 
 sti'engthening associations, in rendering those se- 
 quences, which, at first, are slow, and difficult, after- 
 wards, rapid, and easy. At first, the learner, after 
 thinking of each successive note, as it stands in his 
 book, has each time to look out with care for the key or 
 the string which he is to touch, and the finger he is to 
 touch it v^th, and is every moment committing 
 mistakes. Repetition is well known to be the only 
 means of overcoming these difficulties. As the repe- 
 tition goes on, the sight of the note, or even the idea 
 of the note, becomes associated with the place of the 
 key or the string ; and that of the key or the string 
 with the proper finger. The association for a time is 
 imperfect, but at last becomes so strong, that it is per- 
 formed with the greatest rapidity, without an effort, 
 and almost without consciousness. 
 
 In few cases is the strength of association, derived 
 
90 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAF. III. 
 
 from repetition, more worthy of attention, than m 
 performing arithmetic. All men, whose practice is 
 not great, find the addition of a long column of num- 
 bers, tedious, and the accuracy of the operation, by no 
 means certain. Till a man has had considerable prac- 
 tice, there are few acts of the mind more toilsome. 
 The reason is, that the names of the numbers, which 
 correspond to the different steps, do not readily occur ; 
 that is, are not strongly associated with the names 
 which precede them. Thus, 7 added to 5, make 12 ; 
 but the antecedent, 7 added to. 5, is not strongly asso- 
 ciated with the consequent 12, in the mind of the 
 learner, and he has to wait and search till the name 
 occurs. Thus, again, 12 and 7 make 19 ; 19 and 8 
 make 27, and so on to any amount ; but if the practice 
 of the performer has been small, the association in 
 each instance is imperfect, and the process irksome 
 and slow. Practice, however ; that is, frequency of 
 repetition ; makes the association between each of 
 these antecedents and its proper consequent so perfect, 
 that no sooner is the one conceived than the other is 
 conceived, and an expert arithmetician can tell the 
 amount of a long column of figures, with a rapidity, 
 which seems almost miraculous to the man whose 
 faculty of numeration is of the ordinary standard. 
 
 8. Where two or more ideas have been often re- 
 peated together, and the association has become very 
 strong, they sometimes spring up in such close com- 
 bination as not to be distinguishable. Some cases of 
 sensation are analogous. For example ; when a wheel, 
 on the seven parts of which the seven prismatic 
 colours are respectively painted, is made to revolve 
 rapidly, it appeal's not of seven colours, but of one 
 
CHAP. HI.] THE -ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 91 
 
 uniform colour, white. By the rapidity of the succes- 
 sion, the several sensations cease to be distinguish- 
 able ; they run, as it were, together, and a new sensa- 
 tion, compounded of all the seven, but apparently a 
 simple one, is the result. Ideas, also, which have 
 been so often conjoined, that whenever one exists in 
 the mind, the others immediately exist along with it, 
 seem to run into one another, to coalesce, as it were, 
 and out of many to form one idea ; which idea, how- 
 ever in reality complex, appears to be no less simple, 
 than any one of those of which it is compounded. 
 
 The word gold, for example, or the word iron, ap- 
 pears to express as simple an idea, as the word colour, 
 or the word sound. Yet it is immediately seen, that 
 the idea of each of those metals is made up of the 
 separate ideas of several sensations ; colour, hardness, 
 extension, weight. Those ideas, however, present 
 themselves in such intimate union, that they are con- 
 stantly spoken of as one, not many. We say, our 
 idea of iron, our idea of gold ; and it is only with an 
 effort that reflecting men perform the decomposition. 
 
 The idea expressed by the term weight, appears so 
 perfectly simple, that he is a good metaphysician, 
 who can trace its composition. Yet it involves, of 
 course, the idea of resistance, which we have shewn 
 above to be compounded, and to involve the feeling 
 attendant upon the contraction of muscles ; and the 
 feeling or feelings, denominated Will ; it involves the 
 idea, not of resistance simply, but of resistance in a 
 particular direction ; the idea of direction, therefore, is 
 included in it, and in that are involved the ideas of 
 extension, and of place and motion, some of the most 
 complicated phenomena of the human mind 
 
92 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 The ideas of hardness and extension have been so 
 uniformly regarded as simple, that the greatest meta- 
 physicians have set them down as the copies of simple 
 sensations of touch. Hartley and Darwin, were, I 
 believe, the first who thought of assigning to them a 
 different origin. 
 
 We call a thing hard, because it resists compression, 
 or separation of parts ; that is, because to compress it, 
 or separate it into parts, what we call muscular force 
 is required. The idea, then, of muscular action, and 
 of all the feelings which go to it, are involved in the 
 idea of hardness. 
 
 The idea of extension is derived from the muscular 
 feelings in what we call the motion of parts of our 
 own bodies ; as for example, the hands. I move my 
 hand along a line ; I have certain sensations ; on 
 account of these sensations, I call the line long, or 
 extended. The idea of lines in the direction of length, 
 breadth, and thickness, constitutes the general idea of 
 extension. In the idea of extension, there are in- 
 cluded three of the most complex of our ideas ; 
 motion ; time, which is included in motion ; and space, 
 which is included in direction. We are not yet pre- 
 pared to explain the simple ideas which compose the 
 very complex ideas, of motion, space, and time ; it is 
 enough at present to have shewn, that in the idea of 
 extension, which appears so very simple, a great 
 number of ideas are nevertheless included ; and that 
 this is a case of that combination of ideas in the 
 higher degrees of association, in which the simple 
 ideas are so intimately blended, as to have the 
 appearance, not of a complex, but of a simple idea. 
 
 It is to this great law of association, that we trace 
 
CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 93 
 
 the formation of our ideas of what we call external 
 objects ; that is, the ideas of a certain number of 
 sensations, received together so frequently that they 
 coalesce as it were, and are spoken of under the idea 
 of unity. Hence, what we call the idea of a tree, the 
 idea of a stone, the idea of a horse, the idea of a man. 
 
 In using the names, tree, horse, man, the names of 
 what I call objects, I am referring, and can be referring, 
 only to my own sensations ; in fact, therefore, only 
 naming a certain number of sensations, regarded as in 
 a particular state of combination ; that is, concomi- 
 tance. Particular sensations of sight, of touch, of 
 the muscles, are the sensations, to the ideas of which, 
 colour, extension, roughness, hardness, smoothness, 
 taste, smell, so coalescing as to appear one idea, I 
 give the name, idea of a tree. 
 
 To this case of high association, this blending to- 
 gether of many ideas, in so close a combination that 
 they appear not many ideas, but one idea, we owe, as 
 I shall afterwards more fully explain, the power of 
 classification, and all the advantages of language. It 
 is obviously, therefore, of the greatest moment, that 
 this important phenomenon should be well under- 
 stood. 
 
 9. Some ideas are by frequency and strength of 
 association so closely combined, that they cannot be 
 separated. If one exists, the other exists along with 
 it, in spite of whatever effort we make to disjoin 
 them. 
 
 For example ; it is not in our power to think of 
 colour, without thinking of extension ; or of solidity, 
 without figure. We have seen colour constantly in 
 combination with extension, spread, as it were, upon a 
 
94 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 surface. We have never seen it except in this connec- 
 tion. Colour and extension have been invariably con- 
 joined. The idea of colour, therefore, uniformly comes 
 into the mind, bringing that of extension along with it; 
 and so close is the association, that it is not in our power 
 to dissolve it. We cannot, if we will, think of colour, 
 but in combination with extension. The one idea 
 calls up the other, and retains it, so long as the other 
 is retained. 
 
 This great law of our nature is illustrated in a 
 manner equally striking, by the connection between 
 the ideas of solidity and figure. We never have the 
 sensations from which the idea of solidity is derived, 
 but in conjunction with the sensations whence the 
 idea of figure is derived. If we handle any thing 
 solid, it is always either round, square, or of some 
 other form. The ideas correspond with the sensations. 
 If the idea of soUdity rises, that of figure rises alon^ 
 with it. The idea of figure which rises, is, of course, 
 more obscure than that of extension ; because, figures 
 being innumerable, the general idea is exceedingly 
 complex, and hence, of necessity, obscure. But, such 
 as it is, the idea of figure is always present when that 
 of solidity is present ; nor can we, by any effort, 
 think of the one without thinking of the other at 
 the same time. 
 
 Of all the cases of this important law of association, 
 there is none more extraordinary than what some 
 "philosophers have called, the acquired perceptions of 
 sight. 
 
 When I lift my eyes from the paper on which I 
 am writing, I see the chairs, and tables, and walls of 
 my room, each of its proper shape, and at its proper 
 
CHAP. III.J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 95 
 
 distance. I see, from my window, trees, and meadows, 
 and horses, and oxen, and distant hills. I see each 
 of its proper size, of its proper form, and at its proper 
 distance ; and these particulars appear as immediate 
 informations of the eye, as the colours which I see by 
 means of it. 
 
 Yet, philosophy has ascertained, that we derive 
 nothing from the eye whatever, but sensations of 
 colour ; that the idea of extension, in which size, and 
 form, and dista»5.ce are included, is derived from sen- 
 sations, not in the eye, but in the muscular part of 
 our frame. How, then, is it, that we receive accurate 
 information, by the eye, of size, and shape, and dis- 
 tance ? By association merely.'^ 
 
 The colours upon a body are different, according to 
 its figure, its distance, and its size. But the sensations 
 of colour, and what we may here, for brevity, call the 
 sensations and extension, of figure, of distance, have 
 been so often united, felt in conjunction, that the 
 sensation of the colour is never experienced without 
 raising the ideas of the extension, the figure, the dis- 
 tance, in such intimate union with it, that they not 
 only cannot be separated, but are actually supposed to 
 be seen. The sight, as it is called, of figure, or dis- 
 
 ^^ We derive through the eye (1) sensations of light in its 
 various degrees, and of colours and their shades ; (2) visible 
 form and visible magnitude, together with their changes ; and 
 also visible movements. The second group of feelings depends 
 on the movements of the e3^es ; and they are feelings of ac- 
 tivity, or of muscular expenditure. We have, besides, a certain 
 internal muscular sensibility to the alterations of the eye-ball 
 in adjusting for distance. — B. 
 
96 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP, III. 
 
 tance, appearing, as it does, a simple sensation, is in 
 reality a complex state of consciousness ; a sequence, 
 in which the antecedent, a sensation of colour, and 
 the consequent, a number of ideas, are so closely com- 
 bined by association, that they appear not one idea, 
 but one sensation. 
 
 Some persons, by the folly of those about them, in 
 early life, have formed associations between the sound 
 of thunder, and danger to their lives. They are ac- 
 cordingly in a state of agitation during a thunder 
 storm. The sound of the thunder calls up the idea 
 of danger, and no effort they can make, no reasoning 
 they can use with themselves, to show how small the 
 chance that they will be harmed, empowers them to 
 dissolve the spell, to break the association, and deliver 
 themselves from the tormenting idea, while the sensa- - 
 tion or the expectation of it remains. 
 
 Another very familiar illustration may be adduced. 
 Some persons have what is called an antipathy to a 
 spider, a toad, or a rat. These feelings generally 
 originate in some early fright. The idea of danger 
 has been on some occasion so intensely excited along 
 with the touch or sight of the animal, and hence the 
 association so strongly formed, that it cannot be dis- 
 solved. The sensation, in spite of them, excites 
 the idea, and produces the uneasiness wliich the idea 
 imports. 
 
 The following of one idea after another idea, or 
 after a sensation, so certainly that we cannot prevent 
 the combination, nor avoid having the consequent feel- 
 ing as often as we have the antecedent, is a law of 
 association, the operation of which we shall afterwards 
 find to be extensive, and bearing a principal part in 
 
CHAP. III.J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 97 
 
 some of the most important phenomena of the human 
 mind. 
 
 As there are some ideas so intimately blended by- 
 association, that it is not in our power to separate 
 them ; there seem to be others, which it is not in our 
 power to combine. Dr. Brown, in exposing some 
 errors of his predecessors, with respect to the acquired 
 perceptions of sight, observes : '' I cannot blend my 
 notions of the two surfaces, a plane, and a convex, as 
 one surface, both plane and convex, more than I can 
 think of a whole which is less than a fraction of itself, 
 or a square of which the sides are not equal." The 
 case, here, appears to be, that a strong association ex- 
 cludes whatever is opposite to it. I cannot associate 
 the two ideas of assafcetida, and the taste of sugar. 
 Why ? Because the idea of assafoetida is so strongly 
 associated with the idea of another taste, that the 
 idea of that other taste rises in combination with the 
 idea of assafoetida, and of course the idea of sugar 
 does not rise. I have one idea associated with the 
 word pain. Why can I not associate pleasure with 
 the word pain ? Because another indissoluble associ- 
 ation springs up, and excludes it. This is, therefore, 
 only a case of indissoluble association ; but one of 
 much importance, as we shall find when we come to 
 the exposition of some of the more complicated of our 
 mental phenomena.^** 
 
 ^^ Some further elucidation seems needful of what is hero 
 said, iu so summary a manner, respecting ideas which it is not 
 in our power to combine : an inability which it is essential to 
 the analysis of some of the more complex phenomena of mind 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. HI. 
 
 ^10. It not unfrequently happens in our associated 
 feelings, that the antecedent is of no importance 
 
 that we should understand the meaning of. The explanation 
 is indicated, but hardly more than indicated, in the text. 
 
 It seems to follow from the universal law of association, that 
 any idea could be associated with any other idea, if the corre- 
 sponding sensations, or even the ideas themselves, were pre- 
 sented in juxtaposition with sufiScient frequency. If, there- 
 fore, there are ideas which cannot be associated with each 
 other, it must be because there is something that prevents this 
 juxtaposition. Two conditions hence appear to be required, 
 to render ideas incapable of combination. First, the sensa- 
 tions must be incapable of being had together. If we cannot 
 associate the taste of assafoetida with the taste of sugar, it is 
 implied, that we cannot have the taste of assafoetida along 
 with the taste of sugar. If we could, a sufficient experience 
 would enable us to associate the ideas. Here, therefore, is 
 one necessary condition of the impossibility of associating cer- 
 tain ideas with one another. But this condition, though 
 necessary, is not sufficient. We are but too capable of as- 
 sociating ideas together though the corresponding external 
 facts are really incompatible. In the case of many errors, 
 prejudices, and superstitions, two ideas are so closely and ob- 
 stinately associated, that the man cannot, at least for the 
 time, help believing that the association represents a real co- 
 existence or sequence between outward facts, though such co- 
 existence or sequence may contradict a positive law of the 
 physical world. There is therefore a further condition re- 
 quired to render two ideas unassociable, and this is, that one of 
 them shall be already associated with some idea which excludes 
 the other. Thus far the analysis is carried in the author's 
 text. But the question remains, what ideas exclude one 
 another? On careful consideration I can only find one case of 
 such exclusion : when one of the ideas either contains, or raises 
 up by association, the idea of the absence of the other. I am 
 aware of no case of absolute incompatibility of thought or 
 
CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 99 
 
 farther than as it introduces the consequent. In 
 these cases, the consequent absorbs all the attention, 
 
 of imagination, except between the presence of something and 
 its absence ; between an. a£Qrmative and the corresponding 
 negative. If an idea irresistibly raises up the idea of the 
 absence of a certain sensation, it cannot become associated 
 with the idea of that sensation ; for it is impossible to combine 
 together in the same mental representation, the presence of a 
 sensation and its absence. 
 
 We are not yet, however, at the end of the difficulty ; for it 
 may be objected, that the idea of the absence of anything is 
 the idea of a negation, of a nullity ; and the idea of nothing 
 must itself be nothing — no idea at all. This objection has 
 imposed upon more than one metaphysician ; but the solution 
 of the paradox is very simple. The idea of the presence of a 
 sensation is the idea of the sensation itself along with certain 
 accompanying circumstances : the idea of the absence of the 
 sensation is the idea of the same accompanying circumstances 
 without the sensation. -For example : my idea of a bbdy is 
 the idea of a feeling of resistance, accompanying a certain 
 muscular action of my own, say of my hand ; my idea of no 
 body, in other words, of empty space, is the idea of the same 
 or a similar muscular action of my own, not attended by any 
 feeling of resistance. Neither of these is an idea of a mere 
 negation ; both are positive mental representations : but inas- 
 much as one of them includes the negation of something 
 positive which is an actual part of the other, they are mutually 
 incompatible : and any idea which is so associated with one of 
 them as to recall it instantly and irresistibly, is incapable of 
 being associated with the other. 
 
 The instance cited by the author from Dr. Brown, is a good 
 illustration of the law. We can associate the ideas of a plane 
 and of a convex surface as two surfaces side by side ; but we 
 cannot fuse the two mental images into one, and represent to 
 ourselves the very same series of points giving us the sensa- 
 tions we receive from a plane surface and those we receive 
 
 H 2 
 
100 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 and the antecedent is instantly forgotten. Of this a 
 very intelligible illustration is afforded by what 
 happens in ordmary discourse. A friend arrives from 
 a distant country, and brings me the first intelligence 
 of the last illness, the last words, the last acts, 
 and death of my son. The sound of the voice, the 
 articulation of every word, makes its sensation in my 
 ear ; but it is to the ideas that my attention flies. It 
 is my son that is before me, suffering, acting, speak- 
 ing, dying. The words which have introduced the 
 ideas, and kindled the affections, have been as little 
 heeded, as the respiration which has been accelerated, 
 while the ideas were received. 
 
 It is important in respect to this case of association 
 
 from a convex surface both at once. That this cannot but be 
 so, is a corollary from the elementary law of association. 
 Not only has no instance ever occurred in our experience of a 
 surface which gave us at the same moment both these sets of 
 sensations ; but whenever in our experience a surface originally 
 plane, came to give us the sensations we receive from a con- 
 vex surface (as for instance when we bend a flat sheet of paper), 
 it, at the very same moment, ceased to be, or to appear, a plane, 
 The commencement of the one set of sensations has always 
 been simultaneous with the cessation of the other set, and this 
 experience, not being affected by any change of circumstances, 
 has the constancy and invariability of a law of nature. It 
 forms a correspondingly strong association ; and we become 
 unable to have an idea of either set of sensations, those of 
 planeness or those of convexity, without having the idea of 
 the disappearance of the other set, if they existed previously. 
 I believe it will be found that all the mental incompatibilities, 
 the impossibilities of thought, of which so much is made by a 
 certain class of metaphysicians, can be accounted for in a 
 similar manner. — Ed. 
 
CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 101 
 
 to remark, that there are large classes of our sensa- 
 tions, such as many of those in the alimentary duct, 
 and many in the nervous and vascular systems, which 
 serve, as antecedents, to introduce ideas, as con- 
 sequents ; but as the consequents are far more 
 interesting than themselves, and immediately absorb 
 the attention, the antecedents are habitually over- 
 looked ; and though they exercise, by the trains which 
 they introduce, a great influence on our happiness or 
 misery, they themselves are generally wholly un- 
 known. 
 
 That there are connections between our ideas and 
 certain states of the internal organs, is proved by 
 many familiar instances'. Thus, anxiety, in most 
 people, disorders the digestion. It is no wonder, 
 then, that the internal feelings which accompany 
 indigestion, should excite the ideas which prevail in a 
 state of anxiety. Fear, in most people, accelerates, in 
 a remarkable manner, the vermicular motion of the 
 intestines. There is an association, therefore, between 
 certain states of the intestines, and terrible ideas ; and 
 this is sufficiently confirmed by the horrible dreams to 
 which men are subject from indigestion; and the 
 hypochondria, more or less afflicting, which almost 
 always accompanies certain morbid states of the diges- 
 tive organs. The grateful food which excites pleasurable 
 sensations in the mouth, continues them in the 
 stomach; and, as pleasures excite ideas of theu* causes, 
 and these of similar causes, and causes excite ideas of 
 their effects, and so on, trains of pleasurable ideas 
 take their origin from pleasurable sensations in the 
 stomach. Uneasy sensations in the stomach, produce 
 analogous effects. Disagreeable sensations are asso- 
 
102 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. HI. 
 
 dated witli disagreeable circumstances ; a train is in- 
 troduced, in which, one painful idea following another, 
 combinations, to the last degree afflictive, are some- 
 times introduced, and the sufferer is altogether over- 
 whelmed by dismal associations/^ ^^ 
 
 ^^ There is more than association in the case here supposed. 
 Fear, anxiety, and painful emotions generally, cause disorder 
 in the digestive and other vital functions, as a part of their 
 nature. Every mental state can be proved to have its coun- 
 terpart physical state ; joy, sorrow, fear, are each embodied in 
 a distinct group of physical effects in the nervous system, the 
 muscular movements, and the organic processes. The physi- 
 cal side of agreeable emotions, as a rule, is a heightened tone 
 of the purely animal functions. The physical side of fear is a 
 complicated series of effects, one of them bein^ the depression 
 of the organic processes, digestion among the rest. In this 
 respect, however, it more or less resembles severe pain, sorrow, 
 shame, remorse, and other states, characterised by the general 
 phrase '' depressing passions ;" the depression being both men- 
 tal and physical. 
 
 The reciprocal agency described in the text, whereby the 
 painful sensations of indigestion induce fear, is not dependent 
 on the association of ideas, but on the deep connections of the 
 emotional states with one another, through their physical ac- 
 companiments. A painful feeling of indigestion has much in 
 common with states of depression due to mental causes, as, 
 for example, the shock of a misfortune, fear, sorrow, and the 
 like. From this alliance it favours the ideas of depressing 
 states. It does more ; it directly reduces that vigorous tone 
 of the system, which is the support of the courageous and 
 sanguine disposition ; and hence, surrenders the mind an easy 
 prey to any chance incentive of alarm or anxiety. — B. 
 
 ^^ The law of association laid down in this section ranks 
 among the principal of what may be termed the laws of Obli- 
 viscence. It is one of the widest in its action, and most im- 
 
CHAP. TII.J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 103 
 
 In illustration of the fact, that sensations and ideas, 
 which are essential to some of the most important 
 
 portant in its consequences of all the laws of the mind ; and 
 the merit of the author, in the large use he makes of it is very 
 great, as, though it is the key that unlocks many of the more 
 mysterious phenomena of the mind, it is among the least 
 familiar of the mental laws, and is not only overlooked by the 
 great majority of psychologists, but some, otherwise of merit, 
 seem unable to see and understand the law after any quantity 
 of explanation. 
 
 The first, however, of the examples by which the author 
 illustrates this law, is not marked by his usual felicity. Its 
 shortcomings are pointed out by Mr. Bain in the preceding 
 note. The internal feelings (says the author) which accom- 
 pany indigestion, introduce trains of ideas (as in the case of 
 horrible dreams, and of hypochondria) which are acutely 
 painful, and may embitter the whole existence, while the sen- 
 sations themselves, being comparatively of little interest, are 
 unheeded and forgotten. It is true that the sensations in the 
 alimentary canal, directly produced by indigestion, though (as 
 every one knows) in some cases intense, are in others so 
 slight as not to fix the attention, and yet may be followed by 
 melancholy trains of thought, the connection of which with 
 the state of the digestion may be entirely unobserved : but by 
 far the most probable supposition appears to be, that these 
 painful trains are not excited by the sensations, but that they 
 and the sensations are joint or successive effects of a common 
 organic cause. It is difficult to comprehend how these obscure 
 sensations can excite the distressing trains of ideas by the laws 
 of association ; for what opportunity have these sensations 
 usually had of becoming associated, either synchronously or 
 successively, with those ideas ? The explanation, in the text, 
 of this difficulty, seems surprisingly insufficient. Anxiety, in 
 most people, disorders the digestion ; and consequently, ac- 
 cording to the author, the sensations of indigestion excite the 
 ideas which prevail in a state of anxiety. If that were the 
 
104 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 operations of our minds, serve only as antecedents to 
 more important consequents, and are themselves so 
 
 true explanation, the only persons with whom indigestion 
 would depress the spirits, would be those who had suffered 
 previous depression of spirits, sufficient in duration and intensity 
 to disorder the digestion, and to keep it disordered long enough 
 to effect a close and inseparable cohesion between even very 
 slight sensations of indigestion and painful ideas excited by 
 other causes. Surely this is not the fact. The theory has a 
 true application in the case of the confirmed hypochondriac. 
 When the sensations have been repeatedly experienced along 
 with the melancholy trains of thought, a direct association is 
 likely to grow up between the two ; and when this has been 
 effected, the first touch of the sensations may bring back in 
 full measure the miserable mental state which had coexisted 
 with them, thus increasing not only the frequency of its recur- 
 rence, but, by the conjunction of two exciting causes, the 
 intensity of the misery. But the origin of the state must 
 be looked for elsewhere, and. is probably to be sought in 
 physiology. 
 
 The other example in the text seems still less relevant. 
 Fear tends to accelerate the peristaltic motion, therefore there 
 is a connection between certain states of the intestines and 
 terrible ideas. To make this available for the author's purpose, 
 the consequence of the connection ought to be, that accelera- 
 tion of the peristaltic motion excites ideas of terror. But does 
 it ? The state of indigestion characteristic of hypochondria 
 is not looseness of the bowels, but is commonly attended with 
 the exact opposite. The authors usual acuteness of discern- 
 ment seems to have been, in these cases, blunted by an 
 unwillingness to admit the possibility that ideas as well as 
 sensations may be directly affected by material conditions. 
 But if, as he admits, ideas have a direct action on our bodily 
 organs, o^ lori'^na facie case is made out for the localization of 
 our ideas, equally with our sensations, in some part of our 
 bodily system; and there is at least no antecedent presumption 
 
CHAP, in.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 105 
 
 habitually overlooked, that their existence is unknown, 
 we may recur tp the remarkable case which we have 
 just explained, of the ideas introduced by the sensa- 
 tions of sight. The minute gradations of colour, 
 which accompany varieties of extension, figure, and 
 distance, are insignificant. Tlie figure, the size, the 
 distance, themselves, on the other hand, are matters 
 of the greatest importance. The first having intro- 
 duced the last, their work is done. The consequents 
 remain the sole objects of attention, the antecedents 
 are forgotten ; in the present instance, not com- 
 pletely ; in other instances, so completely, that they 
 cannot be recognised. ^^ ^^ 
 
 against the suppositioD that the action may be reciprocal — 
 that as ideas sometimes derange the organic functions, so 
 derangements of organic functions may sometimes modify the 
 trains of our ideas by their own physical action on the brain 
 and nerves, and not through the associations connected with 
 the sensations they excite. — Ed. 
 
 ^^ Perhaps the most remarkable case of sensations over- 
 looked on their own account, and considered only as a means 
 of suggesting something else, is the visual, or retinal, magnitude 
 of objects seen by the eye. This is probably the most delicate 
 sensibility within the compass of the mind ; and yet we ha- 
 bitually disregard it for all things near us, and use it solely 
 for perceiving real magnitude as estimated by our locomotive 
 and other members. The visual magnitude of a table, or other 
 article in a room, is never thought of for itself; although 
 incessantly fluctuating we never think of the fluctuations ; we 
 pass from these to the one constant perception, named the 
 true or real magnitude. It is only for remote objects, — as the 
 sun and moon, the clouds, the distant hills, — that the retinal 
 magnitude abides with us in its own proper character. In 
 looking down a vista, we may also be aroused to the feeling of 
 
106 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 11. Mr. Hume, and after him other philosophers, 
 have said that our ideas are associated according to 
 
 retinal magnitude. For perspective drawing, it is necessary 
 that we should arrest the strong tendency to pass from the 
 visible, to the real, forms and dimensions of things. — B. 
 
 ^^ The reader, it may be hoped, is now familiar with the 
 important psychological fact, so powerfully grasped and so 
 discerningly employed by Hartley and the author of the 
 Analysis, — that when, through the frequent repetition of a 
 series of sensations, the corresponding train of ideas rushes 
 through the mind with extreme rapidity, some of the links are 
 apt to disappear from consciousness as completely as if they 
 had never formed part of the series. It has been a subject of 
 dispute among philosophers which of three things takes place 
 in this case. Do the lost ideas pass through the mind without 
 consciousness? Do they pass consciously through the mind 
 and are they then instantly forgotten ? Or do they never come 
 into the mind at all, being, as it were, overleaped and pressed 
 out by the rush of the subsequent ideas ? 
 
 It would seem, at first sight, that the first and third suppo- 
 sitions involve impossibilities, and that the second, therefore, 
 is the only one which we are at liberty to adopt. As regards 
 the first, it may be said — How can we have a feeling without 
 feehng it, in other words, without being conscious of it ? With 
 regard to the third, how, it may be asked, can any link of the 
 chain have been altocjether absent, through the pressure of the 
 subsequent links? The subsequent ideas are only there 
 because called up by it, and would not have arisen at all unless 
 it had arisen first, however short a time it may have lasted. 
 These arguments seem strong, but are not so strong as they 
 seem. 
 
 In favour of the first supposition, that feelings may be un- 
 consciously present, various facts and arguments are adduced 
 by Sir William Hamilton in his Lectures; but I think I have 
 shewn in another work, that the arguments are inconclusive, 
 and the facts equally reconcilable with the second of the three 
 
CHAP. iii.J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 107 
 
 three principles ; Contiguity in time and place. Causa- 
 tion, and Resemblance. The Contiguity in time and 
 
 hypotheses. That a feeling should not be felt appears to me 
 a contradiction both in words and in nature. But, though a 
 feeling cannot exist without being felt, the organic state which 
 is the antecedent of it may exist, and the feeling itself not follow. 
 This happens, either if the organic state is not of sufficient 
 duration, or if an organic state stronger than itself, and con- 
 flicting with it, is affecting us at the same moment. I hope 
 to be excused for quoting what I have said elsewhere on this 
 subject (Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy, 
 ch. 15). 
 
 " In the case, for instance, of a soldier who receives a wound 
 "in battle, but in the excitement of the moment is not aware 
 " of the fact, it is difficult not to believe that if the wound 
 " had been accompanied by the usual sensation, so vivid a 
 "feeling would have forced itself to be attended to and re- 
 '* membered. The supposition which seems most probable is, 
 "that the nerves of the particular part were affected as they 
 " would have been by the same cause in any other circum- 
 "stances, but that, the nervous centres being intensely 
 "occupied with other impressions, the affection of the local 
 " nerves did not reach them, and no sensation was excited. In 
 " like manner, if we admit {what physiology is rendering more 
 "and more probable) that our mental feelings, as well as our 
 "sensations, have for their physical antecedents particular 
 " states of the nerves ; it may well be believed that the ap- 
 "parently suppressed lioks in a chain of association, those 
 " which Sir William Hamilton considers as latent, really are 
 "so; that they are not, even momentarily, felt; the chain of 
 "causation being continued only physically, by one organic 
 " state of the nerves succeeding another so rapidly that the 
 "state of mental consciousness appropriate to each is not pro- 
 " duced. We have only to suppose, either that a nervous 
 " modification of too short duration does not produce any sen- 
 " sation or mental feeling at all, or that the rapid succession of 
 
108 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 place, must mean, that of the sensations ; and so far 
 it is affirmed, that the order of the ideas follows that 
 
 " different nervous modifications makes the feelings produced 
 " by them interfere with each other, and become confounded 
 "in one mass. The former of these suppositions is extremely 
 " probable, while of the truth of the latter we have positive 
 " proof. An example of it is the experiment which Sir W. 
 " Hamilton quoted from Mr. Mill, and which had been noticed 
 " before either of them by Hartley. It is known that the seven 
 "prismatic colours, combined in certain proportions, produce 
 " the white light of the solar ray. Now, if the seven colours 
 "are painted on spaces bearing the same proportion to one 
 "another as in the solar spectrum, and the coloured surface so 
 " produced is passed rapidly before the eyes, as by the turning 
 "of a wheel, the whole is seen as white. The physiological 
 "explanation of this phenomenon may be deduced from 
 "another common experiment. If a lighted torch, or a bar 
 " heated to luminousness, is waved rapidly before the eye, the 
 "appearance produced is that of a ribbon of light; which is 
 "universally understood to prove that the visual sensation 
 *' persists for a certain short time after its cause has ceased. 
 " Now, if this happens with a single colour, it will happen with 
 "a series of colours : and if the wheel on which the prismatic 
 "colours have been painted, is turned with the same rapidity 
 " with which the torch was waved, each of the seven sensations 
 " of colour will last long enough to be contemporaneous with 
 " all the others, and they will naturally produce by their com- 
 " bination the same colour as if they had, from the beginning, 
 "been excited simultaneously. If anything similar to this 
 "obtains in our consciousness generally (and that it obtains in 
 *' many cases of consciousness there can be no doubt) it will 
 " follow that whenever the organic modifications of our nervous 
 " fibres succeed one another at an interval shorter than the 
 " duration of the sensations or other feelings corresponding to 
 " them, those sensations or feelings will, so to speak, overlap 
 "one another, and becoming simultaneous instead of succes- 
 
CHAP. iii.J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 109 
 
 of the sensations. Contiguity of two sensations in 
 time, means the successive order. Contiguity of two 
 
 " sive, will blend iato a state of feeling, probably as unlike the 
 ** elements out of which it is engendered, as the colour white is 
 " unlike the prismatic colours. And this may be the source of 
 " many of those states of internal or mental feeling which we 
 "cannot distinctly refer to a prototype in experience, our ex- 
 " perience only supplying the elements from which, by this 
 *' kind of mental chemistry, they are composed. The elemen- 
 " tary feelings may then be said to be latently present, or to be 
 "present but not in consciousness. The truth, however, is 
 *' that the feelings themselves are not present, consciously or 
 " latently, but that the nervous modifications which are their 
 " usual antecedents have been present, while the consequents 
 " have been frustrated, and another consequent has been pro- 
 " duced instead." 
 
 In this modified form, therefore, the first of the three hypo- 
 theses may possibly be true. Let us now consider the thirds 
 that of the entire elision of some of the ideas which form the 
 associated train. This supposition seemed to be inadmissible, 
 because the loss of any link would, it was supposed, cause the 
 chain itself to break off at that point. To make the hypothesis 
 possible^ it is only, however, necessary to suppose, that, while 
 the association is acquiring the promptitude and rapidity which 
 it ultimately attains, each of the successive ideas abides for a 
 brief interval in our consciousness after it has already called 
 up the idea which is to succeed it. Each idea in the series, 
 though introduced, not by synchronous, but by successive 
 association, is thus, during a part of its continuance, synchro- 
 nous with the idea which introduced it : and as the rapidity 
 of the suggestions increases by still further repetition^ an idea 
 may become synchronous with another which was originally 
 not even contiguous to it, but separated from it by an inter- 
 vening link ; or may come into immediate instead of mediate 
 sequence with such an idea. When either of these states of 
 things has continued for some time, a direct association of the 
 
110 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 sensations in place, means the synchronous order. We 
 have explained the mode in which ideas are associated, 
 in the synchronous, as well as the successive order, 
 and have traced the principle of contiguity to its 
 proper source. 
 
 Causation, the second of Mr. Hume's principles, is 
 the same with contiguity in time, or the order of suc- 
 cession. Causation is only a name for the order esta- 
 bUshed between an antecedent and a consequent ; that 
 is, the established or constant antecedence of the one, 
 
 synchronous or of the successive kind will be generated between 
 two ideas which are not proximate links in the chain ; A will 
 acquire a direct power of exciting C, independently of the inter- 
 vening idea B. If, then, B is much less interesting than 
 C, and especially if B is of no importance at all in itself, but 
 only by exciting C, and has therefore nothing to make the mind 
 dwell on it after C has been reached, the association of A with C 
 is likely to become stronger than that of A with B : C will be 
 habitually excited directly by A ; as the mind runs off to the 
 further ideas suggested by C, B will cease to be excited at all ; 
 and the train of association, like a stream which breaking 
 though its bank cuts off a bend in its course, will thenceforth 
 flow in the direct line AC, omitting B. This supposition 
 accounts more plausibly than either of the others for the truly 
 wonderful rapidity of thought, since it does not make so large 
 a demand as the other theories on our ability to believe that a 
 prodigious number of different ideas can successively rush 
 through the mind in an instant too short for measurement. 
 
 The result is, that all the three theories of this mental pro- 
 cess seem to be quite possible ; and it is not unlikely that each 
 of them may be the real process in some cases, either in different 
 persons, or in the same persons under different circumstances. 
 I can only remit the question to future psychologists, who may- 
 be able to contrive crucial experiments for deciding among these 
 various possibilities. — Ed, 
 
CHAP. iii.J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. Ill 
 
 and consequence of the other. Resemblance only 
 remains, as an alleged principle of association, and it 
 is necessary to inquire whether it is included in the 
 laws which have been above expounded. I believe it 
 will be found that we are accustomed to see like 
 things together. When we see a tree, we generally 
 see more trees than one ; when we see an ox, we gene- 
 rally see more oxen than one ; a sheep, more sheep 
 than one ; a man, more men than one. From this 
 observation, I think, we may refer resemblance to the 
 law of frequency, of which it seems to form only a 
 particular case.^^ 
 
 ^^ The reason assigned by the author for considering asso- 
 ciation by resemblance as a case of association by contiguity, 
 is perhaps the least successful attempt at a generalisation and 
 simplification of the laws of mental phenomena, to be found 
 in the work. It ought to be remembered that the author, as 
 the text shows, attached little importance to it. And perhaps, 
 not thinking it important, he passed it over with a less amount 
 of patient thought than he usually bestowed on his analyses. 
 
 Objects, he thinks, remind us of other objects resembling 
 them, because we are accustomed to see like things together. 
 But we are also accustomed to see like things separate. When 
 two combinations incompatible with one another are both 
 realised in familiar experience, it requires a very great prepon- 
 derance of experience on one side to determine the association 
 specially to either. We are also much accustomed to see un- 
 like things together ; I do not mean things contrasted, but 
 simply unlike. TJnlikeness, therefore, not amounting to con- 
 trast, ought to be as much a cause of association as likeness. 
 Besides, the fact that when we see (for instance) a sheep, we 
 usually see more sheep than one, may cause us, when we 
 think of a sheep, to think of an entire flock ; but it does not 
 explain why, when we see a sheep with a black mark on its 
 
112 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAP. III. 
 
 Mr. Hume makes contrast a principle of association, 
 but not a separate one, as he thinks it is compounded 
 
 forehead, we are reminded of a sheep with a similarmark, for- 
 merly seen, though we never saw two such sheep together. 
 It does not explain why a portrait makes us think of the 
 original, or why a stranger whom we see for the first time re- 
 minds us of a person of similar appearance whom we saw many 
 years ago. The law by which an object reminds us of similar 
 objects which we have been used to see along with it, must be 
 a different law from that by which it reminds us of similar 
 objects which we have not been used to see along with it. 
 But it is the same law by which it reminds us of dissimilar 
 objects which we have been used to see along with it. The 
 sight of a sheep, if it reminds us of a flock of sheep, probably 
 by the same law of contiguity, reminds us of a meadow ; but 
 it must be by some other law that it reminds us of a single 
 sheep previously seen, and of the occasion on which we saw 
 that single sheep. 
 
 The attempt to resolve association by resemblance into asso- 
 ciation by contiguity must perforce be unsuccessful, inasmuch 
 as there never could have been association by contiguity with- 
 out a previous association by resemblance. Why does a sen- 
 sation received this instant remind me of sensations which I 
 formerly had (as we commonly say), along with it? I never 
 had them along with this very sensation. I never had this 
 sensation until now, and can never have it again. I had the 
 former sensations in conjunction not with it, but with a sen- 
 sation exactly like it. And my present sensation could not 
 remind me of those former sensations unlike itself, unless by 
 first reminding me of the sensation like itself, which really did 
 coexist with them. There is thus a law of association anterior 
 to, and presupposed by, the law of contiguity : namely, that a 
 sensation tends to recall what is called the idea of itself, that 
 is, the remembrance of a sensation like itself, if such has pre- 
 viously been experienced. This is implied in what we call 
 recognising a sensation, as one which has been felt before ; 
 
CHAP, m.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 113 
 
 of Resemblance and Causation. It is not necessary 
 
 for us to show that this is an unsatisfactory account 
 
 more correctly, as undistinguishably resembling one which has 
 been felt before. The law in question was scientifically enun- 
 ciated, and included, I believe for the first time, in the list of 
 Laws of Association, by Sir William Hamilton, in one of the 
 Dissertations appended to his edition of Reid : but the fact itself 
 is recognised by the author of the Analysis, in various passages 
 of his work ; more especially in the second section of the 
 fourteenth chapter. There is, therefore, a suggestion by re- 
 semblance — a calling up of the idea of a past sensation by a 
 present sensation like it — which not only does not depend on 
 association by contiguity, but is itself the foundation which 
 association by contiguity requires for its support. 
 
 When it is admitted that simple sensations remind us of one 
 another by direct resemblance, many of the complex cases of 
 suggestion by resemblance may be analysed into this ele- 
 mentary case of association by resemblance, combined with an 
 association by contiguity. A flower, for instance, may remind 
 us of a former flower resembling it, because the present flower 
 exhibits to us certain qualities, that is, excites in us certain 
 sensations, resembling and recalling to our remembrance 
 those we had from the former flower, and these recall the entire 
 image of the flower by the law of association by contiguity. 
 But this explanation^ though it serves for many cases of com- 
 plex phenomena suggesting one another by resemblance, does 
 not suffice for all. For, the resemblance of complex facts 
 often consists, not solely, or principally, in likeness between the 
 simple sensations, but far more in likeness of the manner of 
 their combination, and it is often by this, rather than by the 
 single features, that they recall one another. After we had 
 seen, and well observed, a single triangle, when we afterwards 
 saw a second there can be little doubt that it would at once 
 remind us of the first by mere resemblance. But the sugges- 
 tion would not depend on the sides or on the angles, any or 
 all of them ; for we might have seen such sides and such 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 of contrast. It is only necessary to observe, that, as 
 a case of" association, it is not distinct from those 
 which we have above explained. 
 
 A dwarf suggests the idea of a giant. How ? We 
 call a dwarf a dwarf, because he departs from a 
 certain standard. We call a giant a giant, because 
 he departs from the same standard. This is a case, 
 therefore, of resemblance, that is, of frequency. 
 
 Pain is said to make us think of pleasure ; and this 
 is considered a case of association by contrast. There 
 is no doubt that pain makes us think of rehef from 
 it ; because they have been conjoined, and the great 
 vividness of the sensations makes the association 
 strong. Ptelief from pain is a species of pleasure ; 
 and one pleasure leads to think of another, fi^om the 
 resemblance. This is a compound case, therefore, 
 of vividness and frequency. All other cases of 
 contrast, I beheve, may be expounded in a similar 
 manner. 
 
 I have not thought it necessary to be tedious in 
 expounding the observations which I have thus stated ; 
 for whether the reader supposes that resemblance is, 
 or is not, an original principle of association, will not 
 affect our future investigations. 
 
 12, Not only do simple ideas, by strong associa- 
 tion, run together, and form complex ideas : but a 
 
 angles uncombined, or combined into some other figure. The 
 resemblance by which one triangle recalls the idea of another 
 is not resemblance in the parts, but principally and emphati- 
 cally in the manner in which the parts are put together. I 
 am unable to see any mode in which this case of suggestion 
 can be accounted for by contiguity; any mode, at least, which 
 would fit all cases of the kind. — Ed, 
 
CHAP. lii.J THE ASSOCIATTON OF IDEAS. 115 
 
 complex idea, when the simple ideas which compose 
 it have become so consolidated that it always appears 
 as one, is capable of entering into combinations with 
 other ideas, both simple and complex. Thus two 
 complex ideas may be united together, by a strong 
 association, and coalesce into one, in the same manner 
 as two or more simple ideas coalesce into one. This 
 union of two complex ideas into one. Dr. Hartley has 
 called a duplex idea.^^ Two also of these duplex, ov 
 doubly compounded ideas, may unite into one ; 
 and these again into other compounds, without end. 
 It is hardly necessary to mention, that as two complex 
 ideas unite to form a duplex one, not only two, but 
 more than two may so unite ; and what he calls a 
 duplex idea may be compounded of two, three, four, 
 or any number of complex ideas. 
 
 Some of the most familiar objects with which we 
 are acquainted furnish instances of these unions of 
 complex and duplex ideas. 
 
 Brick is one complex idea, mortar is another com- 
 plex idea ; these ideas, with ideas of position and 
 quantity, compose my idea of a wall. My idea of a 
 plank is a complex idea, my idea of a rafter is a 
 complex idea, my idea of a nail is a complex idea. 
 These, united with the same ideas of position and 
 quantity, compose my duplex idea of a floor. In the 
 same manner my complex idea of glass, and wood, 
 and others, compose my duplex idea of a window; and 
 
 37 I have been unable to trace in Harlley the expression 
 here ascribed to him. In every passage that T can discover, 
 the name he gives to a combination of two or more complex 
 ideas is that of a decomplex idea. — Ed, 
 
 I 2 
 
116 THE ASSOCIATION 01^ IDEAS. [CHAP. III. 
 
 these duplex ideas, united together, compose my idea 
 of a house, which is made up of various duplex ideas. 
 How many complex, or duplex ideas, are all united in 
 the idea of furniture ? How many more in the idea 
 of merchandize ? How many more in the idea called 
 Every Thing ?-^'' 
 
 ^^ This chapter raises questions of the most fundamental 
 kind relating to our intellectual constitution. The Associa- 
 tion of Ideas, comprehensively viewed, involves everything 
 connected with the mental persistence and reproduction of 
 ideas; being offered as adequate to explain the operations 
 named Memory, Reason, and Imagination. 
 
 Conditions of the Growth of Association, or of the Retentive- 
 ness of the Mind. — A practical, as well as a theoretical, in- 
 terest attaches to the precise statement of the conditions or 
 circumstances that regulate the s^rowth of our associations, in 
 other words our mental culture generally. All agree in the 
 efficacy of the two conditions mentioned in the text ; the vivid- 
 ness of the feelings associated, and the frequency of the 
 association, that is repetition or practice. It is well remarked, 
 however, that the phrase " vividness of the sensations or ideas" 
 does not convey a very precise meaning. The proper attribute 
 of a sensation, or an idea, considered as an intellectual element, 
 is greater or less distinctness ; when an object seen or remem- 
 bered is seen or remembered distinctly and fully, and without 
 any unusual labour or effort, there is nothing more to be 
 desired, so far as concerns our intelligence. If, however, the 
 
 object is accompanied mlh feeling — with pleasure or pain a 
 
 new element is introduced, to which other epithets are appli- 
 cable. A feeling is more or less strong or intense ; and the 
 addition of an intense feeling to an intellectual conception is a 
 sum, combining both sets of attributes— distinctness and 
 adequacy in the conception, and intensity in the feelino-. An 
 object whose perception or conception is thus accompanied 
 with the animation of strong feeling, is called lively, or vivid • 
 
CHAP. lii.J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 117 
 
 ia the absence of feeling, these epithets are unsuitable. Hence, 
 the associatiog stimulus expressed by "vividness'' is better ex- 
 pressed by the " strength of the feelings." Any strong feeling 
 impresses on the mind whatever is the object of it, or is in any ' 
 way mixed up with it. We remember by preference the things 
 that have given us either pleasure or pain ; and the effect may 
 be produced by mere excitement although neither pleasurable 
 nor painful ; the influence of a surprise being a case in point. 
 Our interest in a thing is but another name for the pleasure 
 that it gives us ; and to inspire interest is to aid the memory. 
 Hamilton's Law of Preference refers to this source ; and ap- 
 pears to exclude, or not to recognise, the efficacy of feelings 
 not pleasurable, namely, such as are either painful or neutral. 
 The comprehensive law should include all the feelings, although 
 there are specific characters attaching to the influence of each 
 of the three modes. Pleasure is the most effectual in stamping 
 the memory, as it is the most powerful in detaining the atten- 
 tion and the thoughts. Pain has a conflicting operation ; as 
 affecting the will, it repels the object ; but as mere excitement 
 it retains it ; we cannot forget what is disagreeable, merely 
 because we wish to forget it. The stimulant of pain, as applied 
 in education, is an indirect pleasure. It is not intended to 
 make the subject of the lesson disagreeable, but to render 
 painful all diversions from that towards other subjects ; so that 
 comparatively the most pleasing course to a pupil may be to 
 abide by the task prescribed. 
 
 The influence of the Feelings upon Retentiveness is not 
 throughout in proportion to their degree, whether they are 
 pleasurable, painful, or neutral. We have to introduce a modi- 
 fying circumstance into the case, namely, that great strength 
 of feeling absorbs the forces of the system, and diminishes the 
 power available for cementing an intellectual association. A 
 strong feeling once aroused, while inflaming the attention upon 
 whatever is bound up with it, necessarily engages us with it- 
 self. The plastic process of fixing a train or aggregate of ideas 
 has but a share of the energies awakened under feeling. 
 
 It is possible also to stimulate attention, and thereby to 
 
118 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 quicken memory, without the excitement of the feelings, as in 
 pure voluntary attention. For although the will, in the last 
 resort, is stimulated by an end (which must involve the feel- 
 ings), yet we may be strongly moved without being under the 
 excitement of the feelinors that enter into the final end. Our 
 volitions may be energetic, without the presence of strc^ng emo- 
 tions, notwithstanding that, apart from our possessing such 
 emotions, we should not be strongly moved to action. Thus, a 
 difference is made between the influence of the feelings and the 
 influence of the will ; both being powers to impress the memory. 
 The two considerations now advanced, — namely, the want of 
 strict concomitance between strength of feeling and the stimulus 
 to memory, and the operation of the will in the abeyance of 
 present feeling, — make it desirable to find some other mode of 
 stating the element or condition that qualifies the influence of 
 Frequency or Repetition, in the growth of memory and associa- 
 tion. Perhaps the best mode of singling out the operative circum- 
 stance is to describe it as "Concentration of Mind ;' the devo- 
 tion of the mental forces to the thincf to be done or remembered 
 — the withdrawal of power from other exercises, to expend it on 
 the exercise in hand. Every circumstance that at once rouses 
 the mental and nervous energies, and keeps them fixed upon 
 any subject of study or the practice of any art, is a circumstance 
 in aid of acquisition. No fact more comprehensive, more 
 exactly in point, can be assigned than the one now^ stated. 
 What remains is to apply it in the detail, or to point out the 
 occasions and conditions that favour, and those that obstruct, 
 the concentration of the mental energy. It is under this 
 view that we can best appreciate the efficacy of pleasure (in- 
 terest in the subject), of pain, of mere excitement, and of 
 voluntary attention. We can also see, as an obvious corollary^ 
 the advantage of having the mind unoccupied, or disengaged 
 for the work, and the disadvantage of being diverted, or dis- 
 tracted by other objects. Fear, care, anxiety, are hostile to 
 culture by lowering the tone or energy of the mind ; while what 
 power is left concentrates itself upon the subject matter of the 
 anxious feeling. On the other hand, general vigour of the 
 
CHAP. III. J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 119 
 
 system, good health, easy circumstances, are all in favour of 
 mental improvement, provided the force thus made available 
 can be reserved and devoted to that end. 
 
 Thus the two leading conditions of the plastic process are 
 Frequency of Repetition, and Mental Concentration. For 
 practical purposes, these are all that we need to consider, at 
 least as regards the same individual. We have no art or 
 device for training either body or mind but what is comprised 
 under one or other of these heads. There are methods of 
 superseding the labour of new acquirement, by adapting ex- 
 isting acquirements to new cases; but no means can be 
 assigned for the original construction of adhesive links, apart 
 from these two circumstances. 
 
 Still, in a large and exhaustive view of the Retentive power 
 of the mind, we should not omit to allow for the differences 
 between one mind and another in respect of Natural Aptitude 
 for acquiring. When two persons engaged in the same lesson, 
 for equal periods of time, and with about equal concentration 
 of mind, make very unequal progress, we must admit a 
 difference in natural or constitutional plasticity ou that par- 
 ticular subject. Sometimes we find extraordinary progress 
 made in acquisition generally ; the same person excelling in 
 languages, in sciences, in practical arts, and in fine arts. 
 More commonly, however, we find an aptitude for some subject 
 in particular, combined with deficiency in other things. One 
 person has great mechanical acquirements, another lingual, 
 and so on. 
 
 The first case is sufficiently common to justify the assumption 
 of degrees of acquisitive or plastic aptitude on the whole, or a 
 variety in the cerebral endowment corresponding totheadhesion 
 of trains of actions and ideas that have been more or less fre- 
 quently brought together. If the differences among human 
 beings are not so broad as to make this apparent, we may refer 
 to the differences between the lower animals and man. The 
 animals have the power of acquiring, but so limited is that 
 power in comparison with human beings, that people have often 
 doubted its existence. 
 
120 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. HI. 
 
 The second case, the inequality of the sanie person's pro- 
 gress in different subjects, may be looked at in another way. 
 We may view it as incident to the better or worse quality, for 
 all purposes, of the special organs concerned. Thus to take 
 musical acquisition. This is commonly attributed to a good 
 ear, meaningr a delicate sense of musical notes, as shown m 
 their nice discrimination. Discriminating is a different function 
 from remembering ; yet, we can only doubt that the fact of 
 being able to discriminate acutely is accompanied by the power 
 of remembering or retaining the impressions of the sense. 
 The superiority of endowment that shows itself in the one 
 function, embraces also the other. Hence we are entitled to 
 siy that the special retentiveness for any one subject, or de- 
 partment of training, varies with the local endowment involved : 
 which is not to maintain an identical proposition, for the local 
 endowment may be held as tested by delicacy of discrimination, 
 a distinct fact from memory. Thus, a delicate sense of shades 
 of colour would entail a good visual memor}^ for spectacle ; a 
 delicate ear for articulation would indicate a memory for shades 
 and varieties of pronunciation, thereby counting as a part of 
 the verbal memory. So, delicate discrimination in the tactile 
 muscles would be followed by rapid acquirements in manipula- 
 tive or manual art. 
 
 The Ultimate Analysis of the Laws of Association, — It 
 is easy to reduce all the laws ever assigned, as governing the 
 reproduction of our ideas, to three, Contiguity, Similarity, and 
 Contrast. It is open to question whether these can be resolved 
 any farther. The author has endeavoured to reduce Similarity 
 to Contiguity, but his reasons show that he had not deeply 
 considered the workings of similarity. Hamilton's criticisms 
 on the attempt (Reid, p. 914) are just and irrefragable. By far 
 the most important examples of the working of similarity are 
 such as, by their very nature, preclude a former contiguity : 
 as, for example, Franklin's identification of Electricity and 
 lightning. 
 
 There is, nevertheless, a considerable degree of subtlety in the 
 r:;lationship of the two principles. There may be good reasons 
 
CHAP. iii.J THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 121 
 
 for treating them as distinct, but in their working they are 
 inextricably combined. There can be no contiguity without 
 similarity, and no similarity without contiguity. When, looking 
 at a river, we pronounce its name, we are properly said to 
 exemplify contiguity ; the river and the name by frequent 
 association are so united that each recalls the other. But 
 mark the steps of the recall. What is strictly present to our 
 view is the impression made by the river while we gaze on it. 
 It is necessary that this impression should, by virtue of simi- 
 larity or identity, re-instate the previous impression of the river, 
 to which the previous impression of the name was contiguous. 
 If one could suppose failure in the re-instatementof the former 
 idea of the river, under the new presentation, there would be 
 no opportunity given to the contiguous bond to come into 
 operation. In that accumulation of the impressions of con- 
 tiguous ideas, ending at last in a firm association, there must 
 be a process of similarity to the extent of reviving the sum of 
 the past at the instance of the present. This is a case of 
 similarity that we give little heed to, because it is sure and 
 unfailing ; we concern ourselves more with what is liable to 
 uncertainty^ the acquired strength of the contiguous adhesion. 
 Yet it strictly comes under the case of reproduction through 
 similarity. 
 
 Consider again, what may be called a case of Similarity 
 proper, as when a portrait recalls the original. Thv*^ sensuous 
 effects possessed in common by the portrait and by its subject 
 bring about a restoration of the idea of the subject, in spite of 
 certain differences or discrepancies. The interest of this case 
 is owing to the fact that a partial likeness, a likeness in un- 
 likeness, will often reproduce a past idea ; thus enabling us to 
 assemble in the mind a number of things differing in some 
 respects because they agree in other respects. This is not 
 identifying a thing with itself, viewed at a former time, but 
 assimilating one thing with other things placed far asunder in 
 nature, and having many features of difference. 
 
 Let us try and express the consecutive steps of this case of 
 reproduction. The thing now present to the mind has certain 
 
122 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [CHAP. III. 
 
 peculiarities in common with one or more things formerly pre- 
 sent ; as when, in a portrait, the outline and colouring resembles 
 a subject original. These sensible effects make alive the 
 previous recurrence of them, or put us in the cerebral and 
 mental attitude formerly experienced by the corresponding 
 effects of the resembling object. We are aware, by the liveli- 
 ness of our impression, that we have gone in upon an old 
 track ; we have the peculiar consciousness called the conscious- 
 ness of Identity or Agreement. This is one step, but not the 
 whole. In order that the complete restoration may be effected, 
 the features of community must be in such firm contiguous 
 alliance with the features of difference — the S2oecial part of the 
 previous subject — that the one shall reinstate the idea of the 
 other. The points common to a present portrait and a past 
 original must be so strongly coherent with the remaining 
 features of the original, that the one cannot be awakened with- 
 out the other following. Here, then, in the very heart of 
 Smiilarity, is an indispensable bond of Contiguity ; showing 
 that it is not possible for either process to be accomplished in 
 separation from the other. The mutual coherence of parts, 
 now described as essential to reproduction, tnay be too weak 
 for the purpose, and the recovering stroke of similarity will in 
 that case fail. 
 
 It might, therefore, be supposed that Similarity is, after all, 
 but a mode of Contiguity, namely, the contiguity or association 
 of the different features or parts of a complex whole. The 
 inference is too hasty. Because contiguity is a part of the 
 fact of the restoration of similars, it is not the entire fact. 
 There is a distinct and characteristic step preceding the play of 
 this mutual coherence of the parts of the thing to be recovered. 
 Thestrikinginto theformertrackof the agreeing part of the new 
 and the old, is a mental movement by itself, which the other 
 followSj but does not do away with. The effect above described, 
 as the consciousness of agreement or identity, the flash of a 
 felt similarity, is real and distinct. We are conscious of it by 
 itself; there are occasions when we have it without the other, 
 thai is to say, without the full re-instatement of the former 
 
CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 123 
 
 object in its entireness. We often aware of an identity 
 without being able to say what is the thing identified ; as when 
 a portrait gives us the impression that we have seen the 
 original, without enabling us to say who the original is. We 
 have been affected by the stroke of identity or similarity ; but 
 the restoration fails from the feebleness of the contiguous 
 adherence of the parts of the object identified. There is thus a 
 genuine effect of the nature of pure siaiilarity, or resemblance, 
 and a mode of consciousness accompanying that effect ; 
 but there is not the full energy of reproduction without a con- 
 curring bond of pure contiguity. A portrait may fail to give 
 us the consciousness of havins^ ever seen the oricrmal. On the 
 supposition that we have seen the original, this would be a 
 failure of pure similarity. 
 
 Thus in every act of reproducing a past mental experience, 
 there is a complication, involving both contiguity proper and 
 similarity proper. When the similarity amounts to identity, as 
 when a new impression of a thing puts us in the track of the 
 old impressions of the same thing, the effect is so sure, bo 
 obvious, so easily arrived at, that we do not need to think of ir, 
 to make a question of it. It does not prevent us from regard- 
 ing the operation of recalling a name uhen we see the thing, 
 or recalling a thing when we hear the name, as pure contiguity. 
 The strength of the coherence may be deficient, and the resto- 
 ration may fail on this account ; it can never fail on account of 
 insufHcient similarity. Ko inconvenience will arise from speak- 
 ing of this case as if it were Contiguity and nothing else. 
 
 The situation of Similarity in Diversity is quite distinct. 
 The diversity obstructs the operation of similarity ; we cannot 
 be sure that the new shall put us on the track of the old. It 
 is always a question whether such similarities shall be felt at 
 all ; whether we shall experience the flash, the peculiar con- 
 sciousnesSj of agreement in difference. It is a farther question, 
 whether the internal coherence of the thing identified is enough 
 to restore it in completeness. This last step may be allowed 
 to be a case of proper contiguity ; while the flash of identity 
 struck between a present and a past, never coupled in the 
 
124 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 mind before, is an effect sui generis, and not resolvable into 
 any mode or incident of contiguity. 
 
 The circumstances of this identifying stroke are so numerous 
 and far-reaching as to demand a special exemplification. Some 
 of the broadest distinctions of intellectual character can be 
 grounded on the distinctive aptitudes of the mind for Con- 
 tiguity and for Similarity. 
 
 Learning, Acquisition, Memory, Habit, all designate the 
 plastic adherence of contiguous impressions. The processes 
 of Classification, Reasoning, Imagination, and the Inventive 
 faculty generally, depend upon the identifying stroke of like- 
 ness in unlikeness. Some forms of intellectual streugth, as a 
 whole, are best represented by a highly energetic Adhesive- 
 ness; distinction as a learner, a follower of routine, turns upon 
 this power. Other, and higher, forms of intelligence depend 
 upon far-reaching strokes of similarity; the identification of 
 likeness shrouded in diversity, expresses much of the genius 
 of the poet, the philosopher, the man of practice. 
 
 There remains the consideration of Contrast, as a link of 
 association. It is easy to show that both Contiguity and 
 Similarity may enter into the association of contrasts. All 
 contrasts that we are interested in are habitually coupled in 
 language, as light and dark, heat and cold, up and down, life 
 and death. Again contrasts suppose a common genus, that is 
 a generic similarity ; at least until we ascend to the highest 
 contrast of all, the subject mind, and the object or extended 
 world. Cold and Hot are grades of the common attribute 
 called Temperature. As these links of contiguity and simila- 
 rity are present, and of considerable strength, they practically 
 lead to the mutual suggestion of contrasting things. 
 
 Still, we cannot overlook the deeper circumstance that in 
 contrast there is relation, and therefore mutual implication, 
 so that the two members must always be virtually present, 
 although they are not equally attended to. Heat has no 
 meaning, no existence, but as a change from cold ; the north 
 injplicates the south. We have two modes of regarding these 
 relationships, which are distinguished by language, as if \\e 
 
CHAP. III.] THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. 125 
 
 could abstract the one side from the other; that is, we think 
 of heat apart from cold, and of the north apart from the south. 
 But if one side is present, both must be present, and nothing 
 is wanted but a motive, to make us reverse tfie conception, and 
 bring into prominence the side that was in abeyance, cold 
 instead of heat, south instead of north. 
 
 This view of Contrast is variously expressed by Hamilton. 
 (Reid, Note D ^ * *). 
 
 Contrast, therefore, as an associating link, would draw from 
 three sources. Relativity, Contiguity, and Similarity. It would 
 also be heightened, in many instances, by the presence of 
 strong feelings or emotions, as in the contemplation of start- 
 ling changes, and the vicissitudes of things. Being one of 
 the effects habitually introduced in Art and in Oratory, we 
 are more than ordinarily impressed by the things so made use 
 of — infancy beside old age, squalor following on splendour, 
 abasement succeeding to elevation. 
 
 The associating principle of Contrast cannot be put forward 
 as a basis of distinction in intellectual character. There is 
 no such a thing as a special aptitude for Contrasts. There 
 may be, in certain minds given to emotion, a fondness for the 
 impressive or emotional contrasts ; but there is no intel'ectual 
 gift, subsisting apart from other powers and rising and falling 
 independently, for the mutual recall of contrasting qualities. 
 Whenever we feel a difference we make a contrast ; the two 
 differing things, are contrasting things, and are both known 
 in one indivisible act of thought. To be unable to bring up 
 the contrast of a subject present to the view, is not to knuw 
 the subject ; we cannot possess intelligently the conception 
 of " up," and be oblivious to, or incapable of remembering, 
 *' down." Forgetfulness in this department is not the snap- 
 ping of a hnk, as in Contiguity, or the dulness that cannot 
 reach a similitude ; it is the entire blank of conception or 
 knowledge. The north pole of a magnet cannot be in the 
 view, and the south pole in oblivion. — B. 
 
 ^^ The author and Mr. Bain agree in rejecting Contrast as 
 an independent principle of association. I think they might 
 
126 THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS. [cHAP. III. 
 
 have gone further, and denied it even as a derivative one. All 
 the cases considered as examples of it seem to me to depend 
 on something else. I greatly doubt if the sight or thought of 
 a dwarf has intrinsically any tendency to recall the idea of a 
 giant. Things certainly do remind us of their own absence, 
 because (as pointed out by Mr, Bain) we are only conscious of 
 their presence by comparison with their absence ; and for a 
 further reason, arising out of the former, viz. that, in our 
 practical judgments, we are led to think of the case of their 
 presence and the case of their absence by one and the same 
 act of thought, having commonly to choose between the two. 
 But it does not seem to me that things have any special 
 tendency to remind us of their positive opposites. Black 
 does not remind us of white more than of red or green. If 
 light reminds us of darkness, it is because darkness is the mere 
 negation, or absence, of light. The case of heat and cold is 
 more complex. The sensation of heat recalls to us the absence 
 of that sensation : if the sensation amounts to pain, it calls 
 up the idea of relief from it ; that is, of its absence, associated 
 by contiguity with the pleasant feeling which accompanies the 
 change. But cold is not the mere absence of heat ; it is itself 
 a positive sensation. If heat suggests to us the idea of the 
 sensation of cold, it is not because of the contrast, but because 
 the close connection which exists between the outward con- 
 ditions of both, and the consequent identity of the means we 
 employ for regulating them, cause the thought of cold and 
 that of heat to be frequently presented to us in contiguity. — Ed, 
 
CHAP. IV.] NAMING. 127 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 NAMING. 
 
 " I endeavour, as much as I can, to deliver myaelf from those 
 fallacies which we are apt to put upon ourselves, by taking w^ords 
 for things. It helps not our ignorance to feign a knowledge • 
 "where we have none, by making a noise with sounds without 
 clear and distinct significations./ Names made at pleasure, 
 neither alter the nature of things, nor make us understand them, 
 but as they are sigus of, and stand for, determined ideas." — 
 Locke^ Hum, Und. b. ii. ch. 13, § 18. 
 
 We have now surveyed the more simple and obvious 
 phenomena of the human mind. We have seen, first, 
 that we have sensations \ secondly, that we have 
 IDEAS, the copies of those sensations ; thirdly, that 
 those ideas are sometimes simple, the copies of one 
 sensation ; sometimes complex, the copies of several 
 sensations so combined as to appear not several ideas, 
 but one idea ; and, fourthly, that we have trains of 
 those ideas, or one succeeding another without end. 
 
 These are simple facts of our nature, attested by 
 experience ; and my chief object in fixing upon them 
 the attention of the reader has been, to convey to him 
 that accurate and steady conception of them, which is 
 requisite for the successful prosecution of the subse- 
 quent inquiries. 
 
128 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 After delineating the simple and elementary states 
 of consciousness, it follows, in order, that we should 
 endeavour to show what is contained in those that are 
 complex. But in all the more comphcated cases of 
 human consciousness something of the process of 
 Naming is involved. These cases, of course, cannot 
 be unfolded, till the artifice of Naming is made known. 
 This, therefore, is necessarily an intermediate inquiry; 
 and one to which it is necessary that we should devote 
 a particular degree of attention. 
 
 There are two purposes, both of great importance, 
 for which mai'ks of our ideas, and sensations ; or signs 
 by which they may be denoted ; are necessary. One 
 of these purposes is, That we may be able to make 
 known to others what passes within us. The other 
 is, That we may secure to ourselves the knowledge of 
 what at any preceding time has passed in our minds. 
 
 The sensations and ideas of one man are hidden 
 from all other men ; unless they have recourse to 
 some expedient for disclosing them. We cannot con- 
 vey to another man our sensations and ideas directly. 
 Our means of intercourse with other men are through 
 their senses exclusively. We must therefore choose 
 some SENSIBLE OBJECTS, as SIGNS of our inward feelings. 
 If two men agree, that each shall use a certain sensible 
 sign, when one of them means to make known to the 
 other that he has a certain sensation, or idea, they, 
 in this, and in no other way, can communicate a 
 knowledge of those feelings to one another. 
 
 Almost all the advantages, which man possesses 
 above the inferior animals, arise from his power of 
 acting in combination with his fellows ; and of accom- 
 plishing, by the united efforts of numbers, what could 
 
CHAP. IV.J NAMING. 129 
 
 not be accomplished by the detached efforts of indi- 
 viduals. Without the power of communicating to 
 one another their sensations and ideas, this co-opera- 
 tion would be impossible. The importance, therefore, 
 of the invention of signs, or marks, by which alone 
 that communication can be effected, is obvious. 
 
 Among sensible objects, those alone which ai^e ad- 
 dressed to the senses of seeing and hearing have suffi- 
 cient precision and variety to be adapted to this end. 
 The language of Action, as it has been called, that is, 
 certain gesticulations and motions, has very generally, 
 especially among rude people, whose spoken language 
 is scanty, been found in use to indicate certain states, 
 generally complicated states, of mind. But, for preci- 
 sion, variety, and rapidity, the flexibility of the voice 
 presented such obvious advantages, not to mention 
 that visible signs must be altogether useless in the 
 dark, that sounds, among all the varieties of our 
 species, have been assumed as the principal medium 
 by which their sensations and ideas were made known 
 to one another. 
 
 There can be httle doubt that, of the two uses of 
 marks, Communica;ting our thoughts, and Recording 
 them, the advantage of the first would be the earliest 
 felt; and that signs for Communicating would be long 
 invented, before any person would see the advantage 
 of Recording his thoughts. After the use of signs for 
 Communication had become familiar, it would not 
 fail, in time, to appear that signs might be employed 
 for Recordation also; and that, from this use of them, 
 the highest advantages might be derived. 
 
 In respect to those advantages, the following parti- 
 culars are to be observed. 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 1. We cannot recall any idea, or train of ideas, at 
 will. Thoughts come into the mind unbidden. If 
 they did not come unbidden, they must have been in 
 the mind before they came into it ; which is a contra- 
 diction. You cannot bid a thought come into the 
 mind, without knowing that which you bid ; but to 
 know a thought is to have the thought : the know- 
 ledge of the thought, and the thought's being in the 
 mind, are not two things but one and the same thing, 
 under different names. 
 
 If we cannot recall at pleasure a single idea, we are 
 not less unable to recall a train. Every person knows 
 how evanescent his thoughts are, and how impossible 
 it is for him to begin at the beginning of a past train, 
 if it is not a train of the individual objects familiar to 
 his senses, and go on to the end, neither leaving out 
 any of the items which composed it, nor allowing any 
 which did not belong to it, to enter in. 
 
 2. It is most obvious that, by ideas alone, the events 
 which are passed, are to us any thing. If the objects 
 which we have seen, heard, smelt, tasted, and touched, 
 left no traces of themselves ; if the immediate sensation 
 were every thing, and a blank ensued when the sensa- 
 tion ended, the past would be to us as if it had never 
 been. Yesterday would be as unknown as the months 
 we passed in the womb, or the myriads of years before 
 we were born. 
 
 3. It is only by our ideas of the past, that we have 
 any power of anticipating the future. And if we had 
 no power of anticipating the future, we should have 
 no principle of action, but the physical impulses, which 
 we have in common with the brutes. This great law 
 of our nature, the anticipation of the future from the 
 
CHAP. IV.J NAMING. 131 
 
 past, will be fully illustrated in a subsequent part of 
 this inquiry : at present, all that is required is, the 
 admission, which will probably not be refused, of this 
 general truth : That the order, in which events have 
 been observed to take place, is the order in which 
 they are expected to take place ; that the order in 
 which they have taken place is testified to us only by 
 our ideas ; and that upon the correctness, with which 
 they are so testified, depends the faculty we possess of 
 converting the powers of nature into the instruments 
 of our will ; and of bringing to pass the events which 
 we desire. 
 
 4, But all this power depends upon the order of 
 our ideas. The importance, therefore, is unspeakable, 
 of being able to insure the order of our ideas ; to 
 make, in other words, the order of a train of ideas 
 correspond unerringly with a train of past sensations. 
 We have not, however, a direct command over the 
 train of our ideas. A train of ideas may have passed 
 in our minds corresponding to events of great im- 
 portance ; but that train will not pass again, unvaried, 
 except in very simple cases, without theuse oiexpedients. 
 
 5. The difference between the occasions of our ideas, 
 and the occasions of our sensations, affords a resource 
 for this purpose. Over the occasions of our sensations 
 we have an extensive power. We can command the 
 smell of a rose, the hearing of a bell, the sight of a tree, 
 the sensation of heat or of cold, and so on. Over the 
 occasions of our ideas we have httle or no direct power. 
 Our ideas come and go. There is a perpetual train of 
 them, one succeeding another ; but we cannot will any 
 link in that chain of ideas ; each link is determined by 
 the foregoing ; and every man knows, how impossible 
 
 K 2 
 
132 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 it is, by mere willing, to make such a train as he 
 desires. Thoughts obtrude themselves without his 
 bidding ; and thoughts which he is in quest of will 
 not arise. 
 
 By the power, however, which we have over the 
 occasions of our sensations, we can make sure of having 
 a train of sensations exactly the same as we have had 
 before. This affords us the means of having a train 
 of ideas exactly the same as we have had before. If 
 we choose a number of sensible objects, and make use 
 of them as marks of our ideas, we can ensure any suc- 
 cession wMch we please of the sensible objects ; and, 
 by the association between them and the ideas, a 
 corresponding succession of the ideas. 
 
 6. To one of the two sets of occasions, upon which 
 Signs are thus useful, evanescent Signs are the best 
 adapted ; permanent signs are absolutely necessary for 
 the other. For the purposes of speech, or immediate 
 communication, sounds are the most convenient marks. 
 Sounds, however, perish in the making. But for the 
 purpose of retracing a train of ideas, which we have 
 formerly had, it is necessary we should have marks 
 which do not perish. Marks, addressed to the sight, 
 or the touch, have the requisite permanence ; and, of 
 the two, those addi'essed to the eye have the advan- 
 tage. Of marks addressed to the eye, two kinds 
 have been adopted ; either marks immediately of the 
 ideas intended to be recalled ; such as the picture- 
 writing, or hieroglyphics, of some nations : or, visible 
 marks, by letters, of the audible marks employed in 
 oral commanication. This latter kind has been found 
 the most convenient, and in use among the largest, 
 and most intelligent portion of our species. 
 
CHAP. IV. j NAMING. 133 
 
 According to this scheme, spoken language is the 
 use of immediate marks of the ideas; written language, 
 is the use of secondary marks of the ideas. The written 
 marks are only signs of the audible marks ; the audible 
 marks, are signs of the ideas. "^ 
 
 ^^ This exposition of Naming in its most general aspect, needs 
 neither explanation nor comment. It is one of those specimens 
 of clear and vigorous statement, going straight to the heart of 
 the matter, and dwelling on it just long enough and no longer 
 than necessary, in which the Analysis abounds. — Ed, 
 
134 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 SECTION I 
 
 NOUNS SUBSTANTIVE. 
 
 The power of Language essentially consists, in two 
 things ; first, in our having marks of our sensations, 
 and IDEAS : and, secondly, in so arranging them, that 
 they may correctly denote a train of those mental 
 states or feehngs. It is evident, that if we convey to 
 others the ideas which pass in our own minds, and also 
 convey them in the order in which they pass, the 
 business of communication is completed. And, if we 
 establish the means of reviving the ideas which we 
 have formerly had, and also of reviving them in the 
 order in which we formerly had them, the business of 
 kecordation is completed. We now proceed to show, 
 by what contrivances, the expedient of Marking is 
 rendered eflacient to those several ends. 
 
 The primary importance to men, of bemg able to 
 make known to one another their sensations, made 
 them in all probabihty begin with inventing marks for 
 that purpose ; in other words, making Names for their 
 sensations. Two modes presented themselves. One 
 was to give a name to each single sensation. 
 Another was to bestow a name on a cluster of sensa- 
 tions, whenever they were such as occur in a cluster. 
 Of this latter class, are all names of what are called 
 External Objects ; rose, water, stone, and so on. 
 Each of these names is the mark of as many sensa- 
 tions (sight, touch, smell, taste, sound) as we are said 
 to derive from those objects. The name rose, is the 
 
SECT. I.J NOUNS SUBSTANTIVE. 135 
 
 mark of a sensation of colour, a sensation of shape, a 
 sensation of touch, a sensation of smell, all in con- 
 junction. The name water, is the mark of a sensation 
 of colour, a sensation of touch, a sensation of taste, and 
 other sensations, regarded not separately, but as a 
 compound."' 
 
 There is a convenience in giving a single mark to 
 any number of sensations, which we thus have in 
 clusters ; because there is hence a great saving of 
 marks. The sensations of sight, of touch, of smell, 
 and so on, derived from a rose, might have received 
 marks, and have been enumerated, one by one ; but the 
 term rose, performs all this much more expeditiously, 
 and also more certainly. 
 
 The occasions, however, are perpetual, on which 
 we need marks for sensations, not in clusters, but 
 taken separately. And language is supplied with 
 
 ^^ It is not intended to be understood chat all this conaplex 
 meaning entered into the names as originally given. The pro- 
 cess of naming seems to have been this : Each object was 
 designated by a term expressive of some one prominent quality, 
 and of that only. Thus rose is referred with every probability 
 to the same root as the adjective red (compare Greek poSov, 
 a rose, ^pvOpbg red, German roth, Latin rutilus), and thus 
 meant " the ruddy" (flower). Other objects would doubtless 
 also be called *' ruddy," and would dispute the epithet cvith the 
 rose ; but by a process of natural selection, each would settle 
 down in possession of the term found best suited to distinguish 
 it ; which would thus cease to be an attributive, and become a 
 name substantive with a complex connotation derived from 
 association. All names of objects whose origin can be traced 
 are found to be thus simple in their primary signification. 
 The stars (Sans, staras) were so called because they were 
 *'slrevvers" (of light). — F. 
 
136 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 names of this description. We have the terms, red, 
 green, hot, cold, sweet, bitter, hard, soft, noise, stench, 
 composing in the whole a numerous class. For many 
 sensations, however, we have not names in one word ; 
 but make a name out of two or more words : thus, for 
 the sensation of hearing, derived from a trumpet, we 
 have only the name, "sound of a trumpet;" in the 
 same manner, we have " smell of a rose," '' taste of an 
 apple," "sight of a tree," " feeling of velvet." 
 
 Of those names which denote clusters of sensations, 
 it is obvious (but still very necessary) to remark, that 
 some include a greater, some a lesser number of sensa- 
 tions. Thus, stone includes only sensations of touch, 
 and sight. Apple, beside sensations of touch and 
 sight, includes sensations of smell and taste. 
 
 We not only give names to clusters of sensations, 
 but to clusters of clusters ; that is, to a number of 
 minor clusters, united into a greater cluster. Thus 
 we give the name wood to a particular cluster of 
 sensations, the name canvas to another, the name 
 rope to another. To these clusters, and many others, 
 joined together in one great cluster, we give the name 
 ship. To a number of these great clusters united 
 into one, we give the name fleet, and so on. How 
 great a number of clusters are united in the term 
 House 1 And how many more in the term City ? 
 
 Sensations being infinitely numerous, all cannot 
 receive marks or signs. A selection must be made. 
 Only those which are the most important are named. 
 
 Names, to be useful, cannot exceed a certain number. 
 They could not otherwise be remembered. It is, 
 therefore, of the greatest importance that each name 
 should accomplish as much as possible. To this end, 
 
SECT, l] NOUNS SUBSTANTIVE. 137 
 
 the greater number of names stand, not for individuals 
 only, but classes. Thus the terms red, sweet, hot, 
 loud, are names, not of one sensation only, but of 
 classes of sensations ; that is, every sensation of a 
 particular kind. Thus also the term, rose, is not the 
 name of one single cluster, but of every cluster coming 
 under a certain description. As rose denotes one 
 class, stone denotes another, iron another, ox another, 
 and so on.'^ 
 
 As we need marks for sensations, we need marks 
 also for IDEAS. 
 
 The Ideas which we have occasion to name, are, 
 first. Simple Ideas, the copies of simple sensations ; 
 secondly. Complex Ideas, the copies of several sensa- 
 tions, combined. Of those complex ideas, also, there 
 is one species, those copied directly from sensations, 
 in the formation of which the mind has exercised but 
 little control ; as the ideas of rose, horse, stone, and 
 of what are called the objects of sense in general. 
 There is another species of complex ideas which, 
 though derived also from the senses, are put together 
 in a great degree at our discretion, as the ideas of a 
 
 *^ Economy in the use of names is a very small part of the 
 motive leading to the creation of names of classes. If we 
 had a name for every individual object which exists in the 
 universe, and could remember all those namt^s, we should still 
 require names for what those objects or some of them have in 
 common ; in other words, we should require classification, and 
 class names. This will be obvious if it is considered that had 
 we no names but names of individuals, we should, not have 
 the means of making any affirmation respecting any object ; 
 we could not predicate of it any qualities. But of this more 
 largely in a future note. — Ed. 
 
138 NAMING- [chap. IV. 
 
 centaur, a mountain of gold, of comfort, of meanness ; 
 all that class of ideas in short which Mr. Locke has 
 called mixed modes. 
 
 We may thus distinguish three classes of ideas, 
 which we have occasion to name : 1, simple ideas, the 
 copies of single sensations : 2, complex ideas, copied 
 directly from sensations : 3, complex ideas, derived 
 indeed from the senses, but put together in arbitrary 
 combinations. The two former classes may be called 
 Sensible, the last Mental Ideas. 
 
 With respect to ideas, of the first two classes, those 
 which are the direct copies of our sensations, either 
 singly, or in groups ; it is of great importance to 
 observe, and also to remember, that, for the most part, 
 the words, which are employed as marks of the Sen- 
 sations, are made to serve the further purpose of 
 being mai'ks also of the Ideas. The same word is at 
 once the name of the sensations, and the ideas. 
 
 If any person were asked, whether the word being 
 is the name of a Sensation, or of an Idea ; he would 
 immediately reply, that it is the name of an Idea. In 
 like mannei", if he were asked, whether the word 
 ANIMAL is the mark of a cluster of Sensations, or of a 
 cluster of Ideas ; he would with equal readiness say, 
 of a cluster of Ideas. But if we were to ask, whether 
 the name Sheep is the name of a cluster of Sensa- 
 tions, or of a cluster of Ideas ; he would probably say, 
 that Sheep is the name of Sensations ; in the same 
 manner as rose, or apple. Yet, what is the differ- 
 ence ? Only this, that animal is the more general 
 name, and includes sheep along with other species ; 
 and that being is still more general, and includes 
 animal along with vegetable, mineral, and other 
 
SECT. I.J NOUNS SUBSTANTIVE, 139 
 
 genera. If sheep, therefore, or stone, be a name of 
 sensations, so is animal or being ; and if animal, or 
 being, be a name of ideas, so is sheep or stone a name 
 of ideas. The fact is, they are all names of both. 
 They are names of the Sensations, primarily ; but are 
 afterwards employed as names also of the Ideas or 
 copies of those sensations. 
 
 It thus appears, that the names generally of what 
 are called the objects of sense are equivocal ; and 
 whereas it would have been a security against con- 
 fusion to have been provided with appropriate names, 
 one, in each instance, for the Sensation, and one for 
 the Idea, the same name has been made to serve as 
 the mark for both. The term horse is not only made 
 to stand for the sensations of sight, of hearing, of 
 touch, and even of smell, which give me occasion for 
 the use of the term horse ; but it stands also for the 
 ideas of those sensations, as often as 1 have occasion 
 to speak of that cluster of ideas which compose my 
 notion of a horse. The term tree denotes undoubtedly 
 the Idea in my mind, when I mean to convey the 
 idea tree into the mind of another man ; but it also 
 stands for the sensations whence I have derived my 
 idea of a tree. 
 
 Thus, too, if I me^n to name my simple ideas ; 
 those, for example, of sight ; I have no other names 
 than red, blue, violet, &c. ; but all these are names of the 
 sensations. When forced to distinguish them, I must 
 use the awkward expressions, my sensation of red, my 
 idea of red. Again ; sound of a trumpet, is the name, 
 as well of the sensation, as the idea ; flight of a bird, 
 the name, as well of the sensation, as the idea ; light 
 the name as well of the sensation as the idea ] pam 
 
140 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 the name as well of the sensation as the idea ; heat 
 the name as well of the sensation as the idea.''^ 
 
 As we have remarked, in regard to sensations, 
 singly, or in clusters, that they are too numerous to 
 I'eceive names but in classes, that is names common 
 to every individual of a class, the same is obviously 
 true of the ideas. The greater number of names of 
 Sensible Ideas are names of classes : man is the name 
 of a class ; lion, horse, eagle, serpent^ and so on, are 
 names of classes. 
 
 Ideas, of the third class, those which the mind 
 forms arbitrarily, are innumerable ; because the com- 
 binations capable of being formed of the numerous 
 elements which compose them, exceed computation. 
 All these combinations cannot receive names. The 
 memory can manage but a moderate number. Of 
 possible combinations, therefore, a smaU proportion 
 must be selected for naming. These, of course, are 
 the combinations which are suggested by the occa- 
 sions of life, and conduce to the ends which we 
 pursue. 
 
 We arrange those ideas, also, in classes ; to the 
 end that every name may serve the purpose of mark- 
 ing, as extensively as possible. Thus the term fear is 
 
 '^^ lu strict propriety of language all these are names only 
 of sensations, or clusters of sensations ; not of ideas. A 
 person studious of precision would not, I think, say heat, 
 meaning the idea of heat, or a tree, when he meant the idea 
 of a tree. He would use heat as the name only of the sensa- 
 tion of heat, and tree as the name of the outward object, or 
 cluster of sensations ; and if he had occasion to speak of the 
 idea, he would say, my idea (or the idea) of heat ; my idea 
 (or the idea) of a tree. — A'd. 
 
SECT. I.J NOUNS SUBSTANTIVE. 141 
 
 applicable to a state of mind, of which the instances 
 form a class. In like manner^ courage is the name of 
 a class ; temperance, ignorance, piety, and so on, 
 names of classes. Republic, aristocracy, monarchy, 
 are names, each of them, not of an individual govern- 
 ment, a government at one time and place, but of a 
 class, a sort of government, at any time and place. 
 
 The names of the ideas which are thus mentally 
 clustered, are exempt from that ambiguity which we 
 saw belonged to the names of both classes of sensible 
 ideas. The names of sensible ideas generally stand 
 for the sensations as well as the ideas. The names of 
 the mental ideas are not transferable to sensations. 
 But they are subject to another uncertainty, still 
 more fertile in confusion, and embarrassment. 
 
 As the combinations are formed arbitrarily, or in 
 other words, as the ideas of which they are composed, 
 are more or less numerous, according to pleasure, and 
 each man of necessity forms his own combination, it 
 very often happens, that one man includes something 
 more or something less than another man in the 
 combination to which they both give the same name. 
 Using the same words, they have not exactly the 
 same ideas. In the term piety, for example, a good 
 cathohc includes many things which are not included 
 in it by a good . protestant. In the term good 
 manners, an Englishman of the present day does not 
 include the same ideas which were included in it by 
 an Englishman two centuries ago ; still less those 
 which are included in it by foreigners of habits and 
 usages dissimilar to our own. Prudence, in the mind 
 of a man of rank and fortune, has a very different 
 meaning from what it bears in the minds of the 
 
142 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 frugal and industrious poor. Under this uncertainty 
 in language, it not only happens that men are often 
 using the same expressions when they have different 
 ideas ; but different, when they have the same ideas.'' 
 
 ** There is some need for additional elucidation of the class 
 of complex ideas distinguished (under the name of Mixed 
 Modes) by Locke, and recognised by the author of the 
 Analysis, as " put together in a great degree at our discretion ;" 
 as *' those which the mind forms arbitrarily/' so that "the 
 ideas of which they are composed are more or less numerous 
 according to pleasure, and each man of necessity forms his 
 own combination." From these and similar phrases, inter- 
 preted literally, it might be supposed that in the instances 
 given, a centaur, a mountain of gold, comfort, meanness, fear, 
 courage, temperance, ignorance, republic, aristocracy, monarchy, 
 piety, good manners, prudence — the elements which constitute 
 these several complex ideas are put together premeditatedly, 
 by an act of will, which each individual performs for himself, 
 and of which he is conscious. This, however, happens only 
 in cases of invention, or of what is called creative imagina- 
 tion. A centaur and a mountain of gold are inventions : 
 combinations intentionally made, at least on the part of the 
 first inventor ; and are not copies or likenesses of any com- 
 bination of impressions received by the senses, nor are sup- 
 posed to have any such outward phenomena corresponding to 
 them. But the other ideas mentioned in the text, those of 
 courage, temperance, aristocracy, monarchy, &c., are supposed 
 to have real originals outside our thoughts. These ideas, just 
 as much as those of a horse and a tree, are products of gene- 
 ralization and abstraction : they are believed to be ideas of 
 certain points or features in which a number of the clusters of 
 sensations which we call real objects agree : and instead of 
 being formed by intentionally putting together simple ideas, 
 they are formed by stripping off, or rather, by not attending to, 
 such of the simple sensations or ideas entering into the 
 
SECT. I.] NOUNS SUBSTANTIVE. 143 
 
 clusters as are peculiar to any of them, and establishing an 
 extremely close association among those which are common to 
 them all. These complex ideas, therefore, are not, in reality, 
 like the creations of mere imagination, put together at dis- 
 cretion, any more than the complex ideas, compounded of the 
 obvious sensible qualities of objects, which we call our ideas 
 of the objects. They are formed in the same manner as these, 
 only not so rapidly or so easily, since the particulars of which 
 they are composed do not obtrude themselves upon the senses, 
 but suppose a perception of qualities and sequences not im- 
 mediately obvious. From this circumstance results the con- 
 sequence noticed by the author, that this class of complex 
 ideas are often of dififerent composition in different persons. 
 For, in the first place, different persons abstract their ideas of 
 this sort from different individual instances ; and secondly, 
 some persons abstract much better than others ; that is, take 
 more accurate notice of the obscurer features of instances, 
 and discern more correctly what are those in which all the 
 instances acrree. This important subject will be more fully 
 entered into when we reach that part of the present work 
 which treats of the ideas connected with General Terms. 
 —Ed. 
 
144 NAMING. [chap. TV, 
 
 SECTION 11. 
 
 NOUNS ADJECTIVE. 
 
 As the purpose of language is to denote sensations 
 and ideas ; to mark them for our own use, or to give 
 indication of them to our fellow men ; it is obvious 
 that the names of sensations and ideas are the funda- 
 mental parts of language. But as ideas are very 
 numerous, and the Umits of the human memory admit 
 the use of only a limited number of marks or names, 
 various contrivances are employed to make one name 
 serve as many purposes as possible. 
 
 Of the contrivances for making the use of each 
 word as extensive as possible, we have already ad- 
 verted to one of great importance ; that of arranging 
 ideas m classes, and making one name stand for each 
 individual of the class. When the classes are large, 
 one word or mark serves to name or indicate many 
 individuals. 
 
 But when, for the sake of economizing names, those 
 classes have been made as large as possible, we often 
 find occasion for breaking them down into smaller 
 parcels, or sub-classes, and speaking of these sub- 
 classes by themselves. 
 
 An example will render what is here expressed 
 sufficiently plain. The term sound, is the name of a 
 large class of ideas or sensations ; for it is equally 
 the name of both ; the sound of thunder, the sound 
 of a cannon, the whistling of the wind, the voice of a 
 man, the howling of a dog, and so on. 
 
SECT. II. J NOUNS ADJECTIVE. 145 
 
 Among these sounds I perceive diflPerences ; some 
 affect me in one way, and I wish to mark them as 
 doing so ; some affect me in another way, and I wish 
 to mark them as affecting me in that particular 
 way. 
 
 It is obvious that names might be invented for 
 these subordinate classes, to mark such of them as we 
 have occasion to mark ; and the cases are numerous, 
 in which this is the expedient adopted. Thus the 
 term animal is the name of a large class. But we 
 have occasion to speak apart of various portions of 
 this class, to all the more important of which portions, 
 we have given particular names. Horse is the name 
 of one portion, man of another, sheep of another, and 
 so of the rest. 
 
 There is, however, another mode of naming subor- 
 dinate classes ; a mode by which the use of names is 
 greatly economized, and of which the utility is there- 
 fore conspicuous. 
 
 The subordinate class is distinguished from the 
 rest of the greater class by some peculiarity, some- 
 thing in which the individuals of it agree with one 
 another, and do not agree with the rest. Thus to 
 recur to the example of sound. One set of sounds 
 affect me in a certain way, a way pecuhar to that set. 
 Wishing to distinguish these sounds from others by a 
 mark, I call them loud. Another set of sounds affect 
 me in another way, a,nd I call them low; a third set in 
 another way, and I call them harsh; a fourth in another 
 way, and I call them sweet By means of those ad- 
 jectives applied as marks upon the mark of the great 
 class, I have the names of four species, or sub-classes ; 
 1, loud sounds; 2, low sounds; 3, harsh sounds; 4, 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
146 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 sweet sounds ; and the number might be greatly 
 enlarged. 
 
 It thus appears that, as nouns substantive are 
 marks of ideas, or sensations, nouns adjective are 
 marks put upon nouns substantive, or marks upon 
 marks ; in order to limit the signification of the noun 
 substantive ; and instead of its marking a large class, 
 to make it mark a subdivision of that class. Thus the 
 word, rose, is the mark of a large class : apply to it 
 the adjective yellow, that is, put the mark yellow upon 
 the mark rose, and you have the name, yellow rose, 
 which is a sub-division, or species, of the class Rose. 
 
 This peculiarity of naming, this putting of marks 
 upon marks, in order to modify the meaning of a cer- 
 tain mark, is a contrivance which deserves the greatest 
 attention. It is one of the principal expedients for 
 the great purpose of economizing names, and perform- 
 ing the business of marking with the smallest number 
 of marks ; but, Hke the rest of the contrivances for 
 this purpose, it contributes to obscure the simple 
 process of naming ; and when not distinctly known 
 and attended to, operates as a source of confusion and 
 error. 
 
 The use of adjectives, in economizing names, is 
 most conspicuous, in the case of those subdivisions 
 which apply to the greatest number of classes. There 
 is one distinction which appKes to most classes ; the 
 distinction between what pleases, and what does 
 not please us, no matter on what account. The first 
 we call good, the second evil. These two terms serve 
 to mark a very great number of subordinate classes, 
 and, of course, save, to a great extent, the multiplica- 
 tion of names. 
 
SECT. II.J NOUNS ADJECTIVE. 147 
 
 Thus, in the case of the senses, we have the word 
 taste, the mark of one great class of sensations. 
 Tastes we divide into sub-classes by the words good 
 and evil; good tastes being one class, bad tastes 
 another. If we had invented separate marks for each 
 of these two classes, we should have had three names, 
 to mai-k the class taste with these its two primary 
 subdivisions ; and we should have had occasion for 
 the same number of names in the case of each of the 
 five senses ; or, fifteen different names. But the ad- 
 jectives, good, and evil, they being applicable to aU 
 the senses, save us the invention of names for the sub- 
 classes of the other four senses ; as we say good smells, 
 bad smells, in the same manner as good tastes, and 
 bad tastes. They save, therefore, eight names out of 
 fifteen, or more than one-half 
 
 The economizing power of adjectives is still more 
 remarkable, when we depart from simple sensations 
 and ideas, and apply them as marks upon the names 
 of the complex, which are far more numerous. Thus, 
 the term horse is the mark of a complex idea, 
 and the name of a class of objects. We say good 
 horse and bad horse, good dog and bad dog, good 
 house and bad house, and so in cases without number; 
 in each of which, the repetition of the two adjectives, 
 good, and bad, saves us the use and embarrassment of 
 separate names. 
 
 It deserves to be remarked, that the terms good 
 and evil apply much more generally to that class of 
 complex ideas, in the formation of which the mind 
 has but little control ; namely, those of external ob- 
 jects ; than they do to the other class of complex 
 ideas which the mind makes up in an arbitrary man- 
 
 l2 
 
148 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 ner to suit its own convenience. Ideas of the latter 
 description are very often made up according to the 
 distinction of good and evil. Thus, the idea glory, 
 is composed of ingredients all of which belong to the 
 classes, good ; and the idea good, is multifariously 
 included in the name. After the same manner, the 
 idea of evil is multifariously included in the complex 
 idea disgrace. Good is implied in the term virtue, 
 evil in the term vice ; good is implied in the term 
 wealth, evil in the term poverty; good is implied in 
 the term power, evil in the term weakness. In some 
 cases, the ideas of this class are so general, that good 
 and evil are both included ; and, in such cases, adjec- 
 tives are necessary to mark the subdivisions or species. 
 Thus, we say good manners, bad manners ; good 
 sense, bad sense ; good conduct, bad conduct ; and 
 so on. 
 
 Next to the adjectives which form the numerous 
 sub-classes of good and evil, those which mark degrees 
 are of the most extensive application, and in the ope- 
 ration of sub-marking save the greatest number of 
 names. Thus the terms, great, and httle, are apph- 
 cable to a great proportion of the marks of complex 
 ideas of both formations. We say a great tree, a 
 little tree ; a great man, a little man ; a great crime, 
 a small crime ; great blame, httle blame ; great 
 honour, little honour ; great value, little value ; great 
 weight, little weight ; great strength, little strength, 
 and so on. 
 
 Different adjectives differ in the number of classes 
 to the subdivision of which they are subservient. 
 Thus hot and cold are only applicable where diversi- 
 ties of temperature are included ; round, square, and 
 
SECT. ii.J NOUNS ADJECTIVE. 149 
 
 SO on, where figure is included; white or black, 
 where colour ; and so on. 
 
 Beside the use of adjectives, in dividing great 
 classes into smaller ones, without multiplication of 
 names ; they sometimes answer another purpose. It 
 often happens that, in the cluster of sensations or 
 ideas which have one name ; we have occasion to call 
 attention particularly to some one ingredient of the 
 cluster. Adjectives render this service, as well as 
 that of marking a class. This rose, I say, is red ; 
 that rose is yellow : this stone is hot, that stone is 
 cold. The term, red rose, or yellow rose, is the name 
 of a class. But when I say, this rose is red, where 
 an individual is named, I mark emphatically the 
 specific difference ; namely, red, or yellow ; which 
 constitutes that subdivision of the genus rose, to 
 which the individual belongs. ^^ 
 
 *^ In the concluding paragraph we find the first recognition 
 by the author that class names serve any purpose, or are in- 
 troduced for any reason, except to save multiplication of names. 
 Adjectives, it is here said, answer also the purpose of calling 
 attention to some one ingredient of the cluster of sensations 
 combined under one name. That is to say, they enable us to 
 affirm that the cluster contains that ingredient : for they do not 
 merely call attention to the ingredient, or remind the hearer of 
 it : the hearer, very often, did not know that the cluster con- 
 tained the ingredient, until he was apprised by the proposition. 
 
 But surely it is not only adjectives which fulfil either office, 
 whether of giving information of an ingredient, or merely fixing 
 the attention upon it. All general names do so, when used as 
 predicates. When I say that a distant object which I am 
 pointing at is a tree, or a building, I just as much call atten- 
 tion to certain ingredients in the cluster of sensations con- 
 stituting the object, as I do when I say, This rose is red. So 
 
150 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 far is it from being true that adjectives are distinguished from 
 substantives by having this function in addition to that of 
 economizing names, that it is, on the contrary, much more 
 nearly true of adjectives than of the class-names wiiich are 
 nouns substantive, that the economizing of names is the prin- 
 cipal motive for their institution. For though general names 
 of some sort are indispensable to predication, adjectives are 
 not. As is well shewn in the text, the peculiarity, which really 
 distinguishes adjectives from other general names, is that they 
 mark cross divisions. All nature having tirst been marked 
 out into classes by means of nouns substantive, we might go 
 on by the same means subdividing each class. We might call 
 the large individuals of a class by one noun substantive and 
 the small ones by another, and these substantives would serve 
 all purposes of predication ; but to do this we should need just 
 twice as many additional nouns substantive as there are classes 
 of objects. Since, however, the distinction of large and small 
 applies to all classes alike, one pair of names will suffice to 
 designate it. Instead therefore of dividing every class into 
 sub-classes, each with its own name, we draw a line across 
 all the classes, dividing all nature into large things and small, 
 and by using these two words as adjectives, that is, by adding 
 one or other of them as the occasion requires to every noun 
 substantive which is the name of a class, we are able to mark 
 universally the distinction of large and small by two names 
 onlyj instead of many millions. — Ed. 
 
SECT. III.] VERBS. 151 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 VERBS. 
 
 1. There is one class of complex ideas, of so parti- 
 cular a nature, and of which we have so frequent 
 occasion to speak, that the means of sub-dividing 
 them require additional contrivances. Marks put 
 upon marks are still the instrument. But the instru- 
 ment, to render it more effectual to this particular 
 purpose, is fashioned in a particular way. I allude to 
 the class of words denominated Verbs ; which are, 
 in their essence, adjectives, and apphed as marks 
 upon marks ; but receive a particular form, in order 
 to render them, at the same time, subservient to other 
 purposes. 
 
 The mode of their marking, and the pecuharity 
 of their marking power may easily, I hope, be thus 
 conceived. 
 
 A billiard-ball affects my senses, in a particular 
 manner. On account of this, I call it roimd ; and 
 the term round is ever after a mark to me of a portion 
 of the sensations which I derive from it. It affects 
 me in another manner. I call it on that account 
 white, and the term white is to me a mark of this 
 other mode in which it affects me : and in the same 
 manner as I call it white, round, on account of such 
 and such sensations, I call it Moving, on account of 
 certain other sensations, of which the term Moving is 
 to me a perpetual mark. 
 
152 NAMINC4. [chap. rv. 
 
 The manner of aflPecting me on account of which I 
 call it moving, I learn from experience to be peculiarly 
 entitled to my regard. I find that it is a mode of 
 affecting me, which belongs to almost all bodies ; and 
 I find that upon this attribute of theirs the greatest 
 part of my interesting sensations depend. I am there- 
 fore deeply concerned in the knowledge of motions ; 
 and have the strongest inducement to divide them into 
 such classes as may in the highest degree facilitate 
 that knowledge. 
 
 Motions are divided in a great variety of ways for a 
 variety of purposes. Sometimes we divide them ac- 
 cording to their subjects. Thus, the motion of a bird 
 is one class of motions ; the motion of a horse another ; 
 so the motion of a serpent, the motion of an arrow, 
 the motion of a wheel. At other times we form 
 classes of motions according to the manner. Thus we 
 have running, flying, rolling, leaping, staggering, 
 throwing, striking, and so on. 
 
 Of all the classifications of motions, however, that 
 which deserves the greatest attention is the distinction 
 of them into the motions which originate within the 
 moving body, and those which originate without it. 
 Of the motions which originate within the moving 
 body, the principal are the living motions of animals. 
 We find, also, that of all the motions of animals, those 
 of men are the most important to men. The motions 
 of men are divided into a great number of classes. 
 On account of one set of motions we call a man walk- 
 ing ; on account of another sort we call him running ; 
 another, writmg ; another, dancing ; another, fencing ; 
 another, boxing ; another, building ] and so on. We 
 have also frequent occasion for a name which shall em- 
 
SECT. III. J VERBS. 153 
 
 brace all these motions of men. For this purpose the 
 word Acting is employed : and the term Action de- 
 notes any of the motions, which originate within a 
 man as the moving body. It is no objection to this 
 account of the use of the word action, that it is some- 
 times employed in cases in which the motion is not 
 the principal object of attention; as in the act of 
 singing, or that of speaking. Here, though it is not 
 the motion, but the effect of the motion, which is the 
 object of attention to the hearer, the act of the singer 
 or speaker is not the less truly a motion. 
 
 The word action, when thus invented, and used, is 
 afterwards applied metaphorically to motions which do 
 not originate in the moving body, as when we say the 
 action of a sword ; and also to certain processes of 
 the mind, which, as they are accompanied with the 
 feeling we call effort, resembling that which accom- 
 panies the voluntary motions, are sometimes classed 
 along with them, and, by an extension of the meaning 
 of the word, receive the name of actions. In this 
 manner, remembering, computing, comparing, even 
 hearing, and seeing, are denominated actions. 
 
 2. In applying the term Acting, or the terms ex- 
 pressive of the several kinds of acting, the Time of 
 the action is a material circumstance. The grand 
 divisions of time are the Past, the Present, and the 
 Future. There is great utility in a short method of 
 marking these divisions of time in conjunction with 
 the mark of the action. This is effected by the Tenses 
 of Verbs. 
 
 3. When the name of an act is applied to an agent, 
 the agent is either the person speaking, tlie person 
 spoken to, or some other person. The word denoting 
 
154 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 the action is, by what are called the Persons of the 
 verb, made to connote these diversities. Thus amo 
 notes the act, and connotes the person speaking as the 
 actor ; amas notes the act, and connotes the person 
 spoken to, as the actor ; amat notes the act, and con- 
 notes some person, as the actor, who is neither the 
 person speaking, nor the person spoken to.^^ 
 
 4. When the names of actions are apphed to agents, 
 they are applied to one or a greater number. A short 
 method of connoting this grand distinction of num- 
 bers is eflPected by the marks of the Singular and Plural 
 number. Thus amo notes the act, and connotes one 
 actor ; amamus notes the act, and connotes more than 
 one actor. 
 
 5. In applying the names of actions to the proper 
 subjects of them, there are three Modes of the action, 
 one or other of which is always implied. The first is, 
 when the action has no reference to any thing pre- 
 viously spoken of The second is, when it has a refer- 
 ence to something previously spoken of The third is, 
 when it has a reference to some state of the will of 
 
 ^^ There is here a fresh instance of the oversight already 
 pointed out, that of not including in the function for which 
 general names are required, their employment in Predication. 
 Amo, amas, and amamus, cannot, I conceive, with any pro- 
 priety be called names of actions, or names at all. They are 
 entire predications. It is one of the properties of the kind of 
 general names called verbs, that they cannot be used except in 
 a Proposition or Predication, and indeed only as the predicate 
 of it : (for the intuitive is not a verb, but the abstract of a 
 verb). What else there is to distinguish verbs from other 
 general names will be more particularly considered further 
 on. — Ed. 
 
SECT. in.J VERBS. 155 
 
 the speaker or person spoken of. These diversities of 
 mode are connoted by the Moods of the verb. The 
 Indicative is used when no reference is made to any 
 thing which precedes : the Subjunctive, when a 
 reference is made to something which precedes : and 
 the Optative, and Imperative, when the reference is to 
 the state of the wiU of the speaker or the person 
 spoken of 
 
 Such are the contrivances to make the marks or 
 names of action, by their connotative powers, a more 
 and more effectual instrument of notation. Accu- 
 rately speaking, they are adjectives, so fashioned as to 
 connote, a threefold distinction of agents, with a two- 
 fold distinction of their number, a threefold distinc- 
 tion of the manner of the action, and a threefold 
 distinction of its time ; and, along with aU this, 
 another important particular, about to be explained, 
 namely, the copula in predication.'^ 
 
 *^ The imperfection of this theory of Verbs is sufficiently 
 apparent. They are, says the author, a particular kind of Ad- 
 jectives. Adjectives, according to the preceding Section, are 
 words employed to enable us, without inconvenient multipli- 
 cation of names, to subdivide great classes into smaller ones. 
 Can it be said, or would it have been said by the author, that 
 the only, or the principal reason for having Verbs, is to enable 
 us to subdivide classes of objects with the greatest economy of 
 names ? 
 
 Neither is it strictly accurate to say that Verbs are always 
 marks of motion, or of action, even including, as the author 
 does, by an extension of the meaning of those terms, every 
 process which is attended with a feeling of effort. Many verbs, 
 of the kind which grammarians call neuter or intransitive 
 verbs, express rest, or inaction : as sit, lie, and in some cases, 
 stand. It is true however that the verbs first invented, as 
 
156 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 6. We have, last of all, under this head, to consider 
 the marking power of a very peculiar, and most com- 
 prehensive word, the substantive verb, as it has been 
 called by grammarians, or the word expressive of 
 BEING. The steps, which we have already traced, in 
 the process of naming, will aid us in obtaining a true 
 conception of this, which is one of the most important 
 steps, in that process. 
 
 We have seen that, beside the names of particular 
 species of motions, as walking, running, flying, there 
 was occasion for a general name which might include 
 
 far as we know anything of them, expressed forms of motion, 
 and the principal function of verbs still is to afiSrm or deny 
 action. Or, to speak yet more generally, it is by means of 
 verbs that we predicate events. Events, or changes, are the 
 most important facts, to us, in the surrounding world. Verbs 
 are the resource which language affords for predicating events. 
 They are not the names of events ; all names of events are 
 substantives, as sunrise, disaster, or infinities, as to rise, and 
 infinitives are logically substantives. But it is by means of 
 verbs that we assert, or give information of, events ; as. The 
 sun rises, or, Disaster has occurred. There is, however, a 
 class of neuter verbs already referred to, which do not predi- 
 cate events, but states of an unchanging object, as lie, sit, re- 
 main, exist. It would be incorrect, therefore, to give a defi- 
 nition of Verbs which should limit them to the expression of 
 events. I am inclined to think that the distinction between 
 nouns and verbs is not logical, but merely grammatical, and 
 that every word, whatever be its meaning, must be reputed a 
 verb, which is so constructed grammatically that it can only be 
 used as the predicate of a proposition. Any meaning what- 
 ever is, in strictness, capable of being thrown iuto this form : 
 but it is only certain meanings, chiefly actions or events, which 
 there is, in general, any motive for putting into this particular 
 shape. — JiJd. 
 
SECT. UI.J VERBS. 157 
 
 the whole of those motions. For this purpose, the 
 names Action and Acting were employed. It is now 
 to be remembered, that those sensations which we 
 mark by the names of action, as walking, running, 
 &c., are but part of the sensations which we derive 
 from objects; that we have other sensations, and 
 clusters of sensations, from them, on account of which 
 we apply to them other names ; as when we call a 
 man tall, on account of certain sensations ; dark, on 
 account of certain other sensations, and so on. Now, 
 as we had occasion for a name to include the separate 
 clusters, called walking, running, flying, roUing, fall- 
 ing, and so on, and for that purpose adopted the 
 name Acting; so, having from objects other sensa- 
 tions than those marked by the word acting, we have 
 occasion for a name which shall include both those 
 sensations, and those comprehended in the word acting 
 along with them : in short, a word that shall embrace 
 all sensations, of whatever kind, which any object is 
 capable of exciting ia us. This purpose is effected by 
 the word aflSrmative of Existence. When we affirm 
 of any thing that it exists, that it is : what we mean, 
 is, that we may have sensations from it ; nothing, 
 without ourselves, being known to us, or capable of 
 being known, but through the medium of our senses. 
 There is the same occasion for making the Substan- 
 tive Verb connote the three distinctions of time past, 
 TIME PRESENT, and TIME FUTUKE, as in the case of 
 other verbs ; also to connote the distinctions of 
 PERSONS and numbers ; and, lastly, to connote the 
 THREE MODES, that LQ which there is no reference to 
 any thing preceding, that in which there is a reference 
 to something preceding, and that in which reference 
 
158 NAMING. [CHAF. IV. 
 
 is made to the will of one of the persons. Accord- 
 ingly the Substantive Verb has tenses, moods, num- 
 bers, and persons, like any other verb. 
 
 Such is the nature and object of the Substantive 
 Verb. It is the most generical of all the words, 
 which we have characterized, as marks upon marks. 
 These are the words usually called attributives. 
 According to the view which we have given of them, 
 they may be more appropriately denominated, se- 
 condary MARKS. The names of the larger classes, as 
 tree, horse,- strength, we may call primary marks. 
 The subsidiary names by which smaller classes are 
 marked out of the larger ; as when we say, tall tree, 
 great strength, running horse, walking man ; that is, 
 aU attributives, or marks apphed upon marks ; we 
 may caU secondary marks. 
 
SECT. IV.] PREDICATION-. 159 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 PREDICATION. 
 
 The purposes of language are two. We have occa- 
 sion to mark sensations or ideas singly ; and we have 
 occasion to mark them in trains ; in other words, we 
 have need of contrivances to mark not only sensations 
 and ideas ; but also the order of them. The contri- 
 vances which are necessary to mark this order are the 
 main cause of the complexity of language. 
 
 If all names were names of one sort, there would 
 be no difficulty in marking a train of the feelings 
 which they serve to denote. Thus, if aU names were 
 names of individuals, as John, James, Peter, we should 
 have no difficulty in marking a train of the ideas of 
 these individuals ; all that would be necessary would 
 be to set down the marks, one after another, in the 
 same order in which, one after another, the ideas 
 occurred. 
 
 If all names were names of Species, as man, horse, 
 eagle, the facility of marking the order of the ideas 
 which they represent would be the same. If the idea 
 man occurred first, the idea horse second, the idea 
 eagle third ; all that would be necessary would be to 
 put down the name or mark man the first, the name 
 or mark horse the second, and the order of marks 
 would represent the order of ideas. 
 
 But we have already seen, that the facility of com- 
 munication requires names of different degrees of 
 
160 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 comprehensiveness ; names of individuals, names of 
 classes, and names both of the larger and the smaller 
 classes. For the younger and less instructed part of 
 my readers, it may be necessary to mention, that the 
 names of the smaller classes, are called names of 
 Species, or specific names ; the names of the larger 
 classes, names of Genera, or generic names. Thus, 
 the term animal, denotes a large class ; a class which 
 contains the smaller classes, man, horse, dog, &c. The 
 name animal, therefore, is called a Genus, or a generic 
 name ; the name man, a Species, or a specific name. 
 
 In using names of these different kinds ; names of 
 individuals when the idea is restricted to one indi- 
 vidual ; and, for brevity, the names of classes ; the 
 names of the less when necessary, of the large when 
 practicable ; there is perpetual need of the substitution 
 of one name for another. When I have used the names, 
 James and John, Thomas and William, and many 
 more, having to speak of such peculiarities of each, as 
 distinguish him from every other, I may proceed to 
 speak of them in general, as included in a class. 
 When this happens, I have occasion for the name of 
 the class, and to substitute the name of the class, for 
 the names of the individuals. By what contrivance 
 is this performed ? I have the name of the individual, 
 John ; and the name of the class man ; and I can set 
 down my two names; John^ man; in juxta-position. 
 But this is not sufficient to effect the communication 
 I desire ; namely, that the word man is a mark of the 
 same idea of which John is a mark, and a mark of 
 other ideas along with it, those to wit, of which James, 
 Thomas, &c. are marks. To complete my contrivance, 
 I invent a mark, which, placed between my marks, 
 
SECT. TV. J PREDICATION 161 
 
 John and man, fixes the idea I mean to convey, that 
 man, is another mark to that idea of which John is a 
 mark, while it is a mark of the other ideas, of which 
 James, Thomas, &c., are marks. For this purpose, we 
 use in Enghsh, the mark '' is." By help of this, my 
 object is immediately attained. I say, John "is' a 
 man. I, then, use the word man, instead of the word 
 John, with many advantages ; because every thing 
 which I can affirm of the word man, is true not only 
 of John, but of James, and Peter, and every other 
 individual of the class. 
 
 The joining of two names by this peculiar mark is 
 the act which has been denominated, predication ; 
 and it is the grand contrivance by which the marks 
 of sensations and ideas are so ordered in discourse, as 
 to mark the order of the trains, which it is our purpose 
 to communicate, or to record. 
 
 Tfie form of expression, " John is a man," is called 
 a Proposition. It consists of three marks. Of these, 
 "John," is denominated the subject ; " man," the 
 PREDICATE ; and "is," the copula. To speak gene- 
 rally, and in the language of the grammarians, the 
 nominative of the verb is the subject of. t\ie proposition; 
 the substantive, or adjective, which agrees with the 
 nominative, is the predicate, and the verb is the copula. 
 
 By a few simple examples, the reader may render 
 familiar to himself the use of predication, as the grand 
 expedient, by which language is enabled to mark not 
 only sensations and ideas, but also the order of them.** 
 
 ^ The theory of Predication here set forth, stands in need 
 of further elucidation, and perhaps of some correction and 
 addition. 
 
 The account which the author gives of a Predication, or Pro- 
 VOL, I. M 
 
162 NAMING. [CHAF. IV. 
 
 For the more complete elucidation of this important 
 part of the business of Naming, it is necessary to 
 
 position, is, first, that it is a mode of so putting together the 
 marks of sensations and ideas, as to mark the order of them. 
 Secondly, that it consists in substituting one name for another, 
 so as to signify that a certain name (called the predicate), is a 
 mark of the same idea which another name (called the subject) 
 is a mark of 
 
 It must be allowed that a predication, or proposition, is in- 
 tended to mark some portion of the order either of our sensa- 
 tions or of our ideas, i.e., some part of the coexistences or 
 sequences which take place either in our minds, or in what we 
 term the external world. But what sort of order is it that a 
 predication marks ? An order supposed to be believed in. 
 When John, or man, are said to be marks of an individual ob- 
 ject, all there is in the matter is that these words, being asso- 
 ciated with the idea of the object, are intended to raise that 
 idea in the mind of the person who hears or reads them. But 
 when we say, John is a man, or, John is an old man, we in- 
 tend to do more than call up in the hearer's mind the images 
 of John, of a man, and of an old man. We intend to do more 
 than inform him that we have thought of, or even seen, John 
 and a man, or John and an old man, together. We inform him 
 of a fact respecting John, namely, that he is an old man, or at 
 all events, of our belief that this is a fact. The characteristic 
 difference between a predication and any other form of speech, 
 is, that it does not merely bring to mind a certain object 
 (which is the only function of a mark, merely as such); it 
 asserts something respecting it. Now it may be true, and I 
 
 think it is true, that every assertion, every object of Belief 
 
 everything that can be true or false — that can be an object of 
 assent or dissent — is some order of sensations or of ideas : some 
 coexistence or succession of sensations or ideas actually ex- 
 perienced, or supposed capable of being experienced. And 
 thus it may appear in the end that in expressino- a belief we 
 are after all ouly declaring the order of a group or series of 
 
SECT. IV.] PREDICATION. 163 
 
 remark, that Logicians have classed Predications, 
 under five heads ] 1st, when the Genus is predicated, 
 
 sensations or ideas. But the order which we declare is not 
 an imaginary order ; it is an order beUeved to be real. Whatever 
 view we adopt of the psychological nature of Belief, it is neces- 
 sary to distinguish between the mere suggestion to the mind 
 of a certain order among sensations or ideas — such as takes 
 place when we think of the alphabet, or the numeration table 
 — and the indication that this order is an actual fact, which is 
 occurring, or which has occurred once or oftener, or which, ia 
 certain definite circumstances, always occurs ; which are the 
 things indicated as true by an affirmative predication, and as 
 false by a negative one. 
 
 That a predication differs from a name in doing more than 
 merely calling up an idea, is admited in what 1 have noted as 
 the second half of the author's theory of Predication. Thac 
 second half points out that every predication is a communica- 
 tion, intended to act, not on the mere ideas of the listener, but 
 on his persuasion or belief: and what he is intended to be- 
 lieve, according to the author, is, that of the two names which 
 are conjoined in the predication, one is a mark of the same 
 idea (or let me add, of the same sensation or cluster of sensa- 
 tions) of which the other is a mark. This is a doctrine of 
 Hobbes, the one which caused him to be termed by Leibnitz, 
 in words which have been often quoted, " phis quam nomi- 
 nalis." It is quite true that when we predicate B of A — when 
 we assert of A that it is a B — B must, if the assertion is true, 
 be a name of A, i.e., a name applicable to A ; one of the innu- 
 merable names whichj io virtue of their signification, can be 
 used as descriptive of A : but is this the iuformation which we 
 want to convey to the hearer ? It is so when we are speaking 
 only of names and their meaning, as when we enunciate a de- 
 finition. In every other case, what we want to convey is a 
 matter of fact, of which this relation between the names is but 
 an incidental consequence. When we say, John walked out 
 this morning, it is not a correct expression of the communica- 
 
 JM 2 
 
164 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 of any subject ; 2dly, when the Species is predicated ; 
 8dly, when the Specific Difference is predicated ; 4thly, 
 
 tion we desire to make, that '* having walked out this morn- 
 ing" or "a person who has walked out this morning" are two 
 of the innumerable names of John, They are only acciden- 
 tally and momentarily names of John by reason of a certain 
 event, and the information we mean to give is, that this event 
 has happened. The event is not resolvable into an identity 
 of meaning between names, but into an actual series of sensa- 
 tions that occurred to John, and a belief that any one who had 
 been present and using his eyes would have had another series 
 of sensations, which we call seeing John in the act of walking 
 out. Again, when we say, Negroes are woolly-haired, we mean 
 to make known to the hearer, not that woolly-haired is a name 
 of every negro, but that wherever the cluster of sensations sig- 
 nified by the word negro, are experienced, the sensations signi- 
 fied by the word woolly-haired will be found either among 
 tliem or conjoined with them. This is an order of sensations: 
 and it is only in consequence of it that the name woolly-haired 
 comes to be applicable to every individual of whom the term 
 negro is a name. 
 
 There is nothing positively opposed to all this in the author's 
 text : indeed he must be considered to have meant this, when 
 he said, that by means of substituting one name for another, 
 a predication marks the order of our sensations and ideas. The 
 omission consists in not remarking that what is distinctively 
 signified by a predication, as such, is Belief in a certain order 
 of sensations or ideas. And when this has been said, the 
 Hobbian addition, that it does so by declaring the predicate to 
 be a name of everything of which the subject is a name, may 
 be omitted as surplusage, and as diverting the mind from the 
 essential features of the case. Predication may thus be de- 
 fined, a form of speech which expresses a belief that a certain 
 coexistence or sequence of sensations or ideas, did, does, or, 
 under certain conditions, would take place : and the reverse of 
 this when the predication is negative. - Ed. 
 
SECT. iv.J PREDICATION. 165 
 
 when a Property is predicated ; 5thly, when an Acci- 
 dent is predicated. These five classes of names, the 
 things capable of being predicated, are named predi- 
 CABLES. The five Predicables, in Latin, the language 
 in which they are commonly expressed, are named 
 GtnuSj Species, Differentia^ Propriwn, Accidens. 
 
 We have already seen, perhaps at sufficient length, 
 the manner in which, and the end for which, the 
 Genus, and the Species are predicated of any subject. 
 It is, that the more comprehensive name, maybe sub- 
 stituted for the less comprehensive ; so that each of 
 our marks may answer the purpose of marking, to as 
 great an extent as possible. In this manner we substi- 
 tute the word man, for example, for the word Thomas, 
 when we predicate the Species of the individual, in the 
 proposition, ''Thomas is a man;'' the word animal, 
 for the word man, when we predicate the Genus of the 
 Species, in the proposition, '*man, is an animal."'^ 
 
 ^^ If what has beea said in the preceding note is correct, it 
 is a very inadequate view of the purpose for which a generic or 
 specific name is predicated of any subject, to say that it is in 
 order that " the more comprehensive name may be substituted 
 for the less comprehensive^ so that each of our marks may 
 answer the purpose of marking to as great an extent as pos- 
 sible." The more comprehensive and the less comprehensive 
 name have eacli their uses, and the function of each not only 
 could not be discharged with equal convenience by the other, 
 but could not be discharged by it at all. The purpose, in pre- 
 dicating of anything the name of a class to which it belongs, is 
 not to obtain a better or more commodious name for it, but to 
 make known the fact of its possessing the attributes which con- 
 stitute the class, and which are therefore signified by the class- 
 name. It is evident that the name of one class cannot possibly 
 perform this office vicariously for the name of another. — Ed, 
 
166 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 We have already, also, taken notice of the artifice, 
 by which smaller classes are formed out of larger, by 
 the help of secondary marks. Of these secondary 
 marks, the principal classes are designated by the 
 terms Differentia, Proprium, Accidens. No very dis- 
 tinct boundaries, are, indeed, marked by these terms ; 
 nor do they effect a scientific division ; but, for the 
 present purpose, the elucidation of the end to which 
 Predication is subservient, they are sufficient. 
 
 Differentia is always an Attributive, applicable to a 
 Genus, and which, when combined with it, marks out 
 a Species ; as the word rational, which is applicable 
 to the Genus animal, and when applied to it, in the 
 phrase '^rational animal," marks out a Species, and 
 is synonymous with the word man. In a similar 
 manner the word sensitive is applicable to body, and 
 marks out the subordinate Genus, anhval. 
 
 Proprium. is also an Attributive, and the Attribu- 
 tives classed under this title differ from those classed 
 under the title differentia, chiefly in this ; That those 
 classed under differentia^ are regarded as more ex- 
 pressly involved in the definition of the Species which 
 they seem to cut out from the Genus. Thus, both 
 rational, and risible, when applied to animal, cut out of 
 it the class Man ; but rational is called diffekentia, 
 risible pjaoPRiUM, because rational, is strictly involved 
 in the definition of man; risible is not. Some Attri- 
 l)utives are classed under the title proprium, which, 
 when applied to the genus, do not constitute the same 
 Species, constituted by the differentia, but a different 
 Species ; as bipes, two-footed animal, is the name of 
 a class including at least the two classes of men, and 
 birds; hot-blooded animal, is the name of a class so 
 
SECT. IV.] PREDICATION. 167 
 
 large as to include man, horse, lion, dog, and the 
 greater part of the more perfectly organized Species. 
 There are some Attributives, classed under the title 
 proprium, which cut out of the Genus a class even less 
 than that which is cut by the differentia ; as, for ex- 
 ample, the word gramniatical This word grammatical, 
 applied to the word animal, in the term '* grammatical 
 animal," separates a class so small, as to include only 
 part of the Species man, those who are called Gram- 
 marians. Such Attributives, for an obvious reason, 
 are applicable, as well to the name of the Species, as 
 to that of the Genus. Thus, we say, ^* a grammatical 
 man," as well as "a grammatical animal/' and that 
 with greater propriety, as cutting out the sub-species 
 Irom the Species more immediately. 
 
 The Attributives, classed under the title accidens, 
 are regarded, like those classed under differentia, and 
 proprium, as applicable to the class cut out by the 
 differentia, but applicable to it rather fortuitously than 
 by any fixed connection. The term lame is an example 
 of such Attributives. The terra lame, however, applied 
 to the name of the Species, does not the less take out 
 of it a sub-species, as ^4ame man," "lame horse." 
 
 With respect to these classes of Attributives {Dif- 
 ferentia, Proprium, Accidens) this is necessary to be 
 observed, and remembered ; that they differ from one 
 another only by the accident of their application. 
 Thus, when ra^iowa^, applied to the Genus animal, con- 
 stitutes the Species man, all other Attributives applied 
 to that Species are either accidens, or proprium ; but 
 these Atti-ibutives themselves may be the differentia 
 in the case of other classes. Thus, loarm-blooded, ap- 
 plied to man, stands under the class proprium ; but 
 
168 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 when applied to the animals which stand distinguished 
 from the cold-blooded, as constituting a class, it be- 
 comes the differentia, and rational, with respect to this 
 comprehensive class, is only an accidens:"^ 
 
 ^^ The author says, that no very distinct boundaries are 
 marked by the three terms, Differentia, Proprium, and 
 Acciders, nor do they effect a scientific division. As used, 
 however, by the more accurate of the school logicians, they 
 do mark out distinct boundaries, and do effect a scientific 
 division. 
 
 Of the attributes common to a class, some have been taken 
 into consideration in forming the class, and are included in 
 the signification of its name. Such, in the case of man, are 
 rationality, and the outward form which we call the human 
 These attributes are its Differentiae; the fundamental differ- 
 ences which distinguish that class from the others most nearly 
 allied to it. The school logicians were contented with one 
 Differentia, whenever one was sufficient completely to circum- 
 scribe the class. But this was an error, because one attribute 
 may be sufficient for distinction, and yet may not exhaust the 
 signification of the class-name. All attributes, then, which 
 are part of that signification, are set apart as Differentia?. 
 Other attributes, though not included among those which con- 
 stitute the class, and which are directly signified by its name, 
 are consequences of some of those which constitute the class, 
 and always found along with them. These attributes of the 
 class are its Propria. Thus, to be bounded by three straight 
 lines is the Differentia of a triangle ; to have the sum of its 
 three angles equal to two right angles, being a consequence of 
 its Differentia, is a Proprium of it. Rationality is a Differentia 
 of the class Man : to be 8.ble to build cities is a Proprium, beino- 
 a consequence of rationality, but not, as that is, included in 
 tiie meaning of the word Man. All other attributes of the class, 
 which are neither included in the meaning of the name, nor 
 are consequences of any which are included, are Accidents 
 
SECT. IV.] PREDICATION. 169 
 
 We now arrive at a very important conclusion ; for 
 it thus appears, that all Predication, is Predication of 
 Genus or Species, since the Attributives classed under 
 the titles of Differentia, Propriumj Accidens, cannot be 
 used but as part of the name of a Species. But we 
 have seen, above, that Predication by Genus and 
 Species is merely the substitution of one name for an- 
 other, the more general for the less general ; the fact 
 of the substitution being marked by the Copula. It 
 follows, if all Predication is by Genus and Species, 
 that all Predication is the substitution of one name 
 for another, the more for the less general. 
 
 It will be easy for the learner to make this material 
 fact familiar to himself, by attending to a few instances. 
 Thus, when it is said that man is rational, the term 
 rational is evidently elliptical, and the word animal 
 is understood. The word rational, according to gram- 
 matical language, is an adjective, and is significant 
 only in conjunction with a substantive. According 
 to logical language, it is a connotative term, and is 
 without a meaning when disjoined from the object, 
 the property or properties of which it connotes.'' 
 
 however universally and constantly they may be true of the 
 class ; as blackness, of crows. 
 
 The author's remark, that these three classes of Attributives 
 differ from one another only in the accident of their applica- 
 tion, is most just. There are not some attributes which are 
 always Differentise, and others which are always Propria, or 
 always Accidents. The same attribute which is a Differentia 
 of one genus or species, may be, and often is, a Proprium or 
 an Accidens of others, and so on. — Ed, 
 
 ^^ I am unable to feel the force of this remark. Every pre- 
 dication ascribes an attribute to a subject. Differentise, Pro- 
 
170 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 With respect, however, to such exaiQples as this 
 last, namely, all those in which the predicate consists 
 
 pria, and Accidents, agree with generic and specific names in 
 expressing attributes, and the attributes they express are the 
 whole of their meaning. I therefore cannot see why there 
 should not be Predication of any of these, as well as of Genus 
 and Species. These three Predicables, the author says, cannot 
 be used but as part of the name of a genus or species : they 
 are adjectives, and cannot be employed without a substantive 
 understood. Allowing this to be logically, as it is grammati- 
 cally, true, still the comprehensive and almost insignificant 
 substantive, ''thing" or "being,'' fully answers the purpose; 
 and the entire meaning of the predication is contained in the 
 adjective. These adjectives, as the author remarks, are con- 
 notative terms; but so, on his own shewing elsewhere, are all 
 concrete substantives, except proper names. Why, when it is 
 said that man is rational, must "the word animal"" be "under- 
 stood r Nothing is understood but that the being, Man, has 
 the attribute of reason. If we say, God is rational, is animal 
 understood ? It was only the Greeks who classed their godb 
 as ^wa aOavuTa. 
 
 The exclusion of the three latter Predicables from predica- 
 tion probably recommended itself to the author as a support to 
 his doctrine that all Predication is the substitution of one name 
 for another, which he considered himself to have already de- 
 monstrated so far as regards Genus and Species. But proofs 
 have just been given that in the predication of Genus and 
 Species no more than in that of Differentia, Proprium, or 
 Accidens, is anything which turns upon names the main con- 
 sideration. Except in tbe case of definitions, and other merely 
 verbal propositions, every proposition is intended to commu- 
 nicate a matter of fact : This subject has that attribute — This 
 cluster of sensations is always accompanied by that sensation. 
 
 Let me remark by the way, that the word connote is here 
 used by the author in what I consider its legitimate sense — 
 that in which a name is said to connote a property or proper- 
 
SECT. IV.] PREDICATION, 17 1 
 
 of the genus and differentia, the proposition is a mere 
 definition; and the predicate, and the subject, are 
 precisely equivalent. Thus, ''rational animal" is 
 precisely the same class as " man ;" and they are only 
 two names for the same thing ; the one a simple, or 
 single worded name ; the other a complex, or double- 
 worded, name. Such propositions therefore are, pro- 
 perly speaking, not Predications at all. When they 
 are used for any other purpose than to make known, 
 or to fix, the meaning of a term, they are useless, and 
 are denominated identical propositions.'"^ 
 
 The preceding expositions have shown the peculiar 
 use of the Copula, The Predication consists, essen- 
 tially, of two marks, whereof the first is called the 
 Subject, the latter the Predicate ; the Predicate being 
 set down as a name to be used for every thing of 
 which the Subject is a name ; and the Copula is 
 merely a mark necessary to shew that the Predicate 
 is to be taken and used as a substitute for the 
 Subject. 
 
 There is a great convenience in giving to the Copula 
 the same powers of connotation, in respect of Time, 
 
 ties belonging to the object it is predicated of. He afterwards 
 casts off this use of the term, and introduces one the exact 
 reverse : but of this hereafter. — Ed. 
 
 ^^ In this passage the author virtually gives up the part of 
 his theory of Predication which is borrowed from Hobbes. 
 According to his doctrine in this place, whenever the predicate 
 and the subject are exactly equivalent, and "are only two 
 names for the same thing," the predication serves only ''' to 
 make known, or to fix, the meaning of a term," and ''such 
 propositions are, properly speaking, not Predications at all." 
 —Ed. 
 
172 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 Manner, Person, and Number, as we have seen to be 
 usefully annexed to the Verb. 
 
 It is necessary to explain a little this convenience ; 
 and the explanation will have another advantage, that 
 it will still farther illustrate the manner in which 
 Predication serves the great purpose of marking the 
 Order of ideas m a Train. 
 
 If the sensations or ideas in a train were to be 
 marked as merely so many independent items, the 
 mode of marking the order of them would be simple ; 
 the order of the marks itself might suffice. If this, 
 for example, were the ti^ain ; smell of a rose, sight 
 of a lat, sound of a trumpet, touch of velvet, prick 
 of a pin, these names placed in order might denote 
 the order of the sensations. 
 
 In the greater number of instances, however, it is 
 necessary to mark the train as the train of somebody ; 
 and for this purpose additional machinery is required. 
 Suppose that the traia I have to mark is the train of 
 John, a train of the sensations of John ; what are the 
 marks for which I shall have occasion ? It is first of 
 all evident that I must have a mark for John, and a 
 mark for each of the sensations. Suppose it is my 
 purpose to represent John as having a sensation by 
 each of his senses, sight, smell, &c., how must I pro- 
 ceed ? I have first the word John, for the mark of 
 the person ; and I have the word seeing, for the mark 
 of the sensation. But beside the marks, ''John," 
 '' seeing," I have occasion for a mark to show that I 
 mean the mark '' seeing" to be applied to the mark 
 "John," and not to any other. For that pin'})ose I 
 use the word " is." I say '' John is seeing," and the 
 first sensation of John's train is now sufficiently de- 
 
SECT. IV.] PREDICATION. 173 
 
 noted. In the same manner I proceed with the rest; 
 John is smelling, John is tasting, John is hearing, 
 John is touching. 
 
 But I have often occasion to speak not only of 
 John's present sensations, but of his past or his future 
 sensations ; not of John as merely now seeing, hear- 
 ing, &c., but as having been, or as going to be, the 
 subject of these sensations. The Copula may be so 
 contrived as most comraodiously to connote the main 
 distinctions of Time : not merely to mark the con- 
 nection between the two marks which form the subject 
 and the predicate of the proposition, but to mark, 
 along with this, either past, or present, or future, 
 Time. Thus, if I say John is seeing, the copula 
 marks present time along with the peculiar connection 
 between the predicate and the subject ; if I say John 
 was seeing, it connotes past time ; if I say John will 
 be seeing, it connotes future time. 
 
 As, in explaining the functions of verbs, there 
 appeared a convenience in the contrivance by which 
 they were made to connote three Manners ; first, when 
 no reference is made to any thing which is previously 
 spoken of; secondly, when a reference is made to 
 something which is previously spoken of; thirdly, 
 when a reference is made to the will of one of the 
 PERSONS ; it will now be seen that there is the same 
 convenience in making the Copula connote these re- 
 ferences by a similar contrivance. Thus, when we 
 speak of a man having sensations, we may speak of 
 him as having them or as not having them, in conse- 
 quence of something previously spoken of; or we may 
 speak of him as having them in consequence of our 
 will. It is, therefore, useful, that the Copula should 
 
174 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 have moods as "well as tenses. The same thing may 
 be said of persons and numbers ; of which no illus- 
 tration seems to be required. 
 
 We come next to an observation respecting the 
 Copula, to which the greatest attention is due. In 
 all Languages, the Verb which denotes existence has 
 been employed to answer the additional purpose of 
 the Copula in Predication. The consequences of this 
 have been most lamentable. There is thus a double 
 meaning in the Copula, which has produced a most 
 unfortunate mixture and confusion of ideas. It has 
 involved in mystery the whole business of Predication ; 
 the grand contrivance by which language is rendered 
 competent to its end. By darkening Predication, it 
 has spread such a veil over the phenomena of mind, 
 as concealed them from ordinary eyes, and allowed 
 them to be but imperfectly seen by those wliich were 
 the most discerning. 
 
 In our own language, the verb, to be, is the impor- 
 tant word which is employed to connote, along with 
 its Subject, whatever it be, the grand idea of exis- 
 tence. Thus, if I use the first person singular of its 
 indicative mood, and say, " I am," I affirm existence 
 of myself '' I am," is the equivalent of " I am exist- 
 ing." In the first of these expressions, '' I am," the 
 mark "am" involves in it the force of two marks ; it 
 involves the meaning of the word '' existing," and the 
 marking power or meaning of the Copula. In the 
 second expression "I am existing,'' the word ''am" 
 ought to serve the purpose of the Copula only. But 
 in reality its connotation of existence still adheres to 
 it ; and whereas the expression ought to consist of the 
 three established parts of a Predication ; 1, the subject 
 
SECT. IV.J PREDICATION. 175 
 
 " I ;" 2, the predicate existing ; and 3, the copula; it 
 in reahty consists of, 1, the subject '' I ;" 2, the pre- 
 dicate existing ; 3, the Copula ; which signifies, 4, 
 existing, over again. 
 
 Let us take, as another case, that in which the sub- 
 ject and predicate of my intended proposition are, the 
 word "I" and '^reading." I want for the purpose of 
 predication only a Copula to signify nakedly that the 
 mark ** reading^' is apphed to the mark '' I ;" but in- 
 stead of this I am obliged to use a word which con- 
 notes existence, along with the force of the Copula ; 
 and when I say " I am reading," not only reading is 
 predicated of me, but existing also. Suppose, again, 
 my subject is "John," my predicate "dead," lam 
 obhged to use for my Copula the word "is," which 
 connotes existence, and I thus predicate of John both 
 existence and death. 
 
 It may be easily collected, from this one example, 
 what heterogeneous and inconsistent ideas may be 
 forced into connection by the use of the Substantive 
 Verb as the Copula in Predication ; and what confu- 
 sion in the mental processes it tends to produce. It 
 is in the case, however, of the higher abstractions, 
 and the various combinations of ideas which the 
 mind, in the processes of enquiring and marking, 
 forms for its own convenience, to obtain a greater 
 command over its stores and greater facility in com- 
 municating them, that the use of the verb which con- 
 joins the Predication of existence with every other 
 Predication, has produced the wildest confusion, and 
 been the most deeply injurious. Is it any wonder, 
 for example, that Chance, and Fate, and Nature, have 
 been personified, and have had an existence ascribed 
 
176 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 to them, as objects, when we have no means of predi- 
 cating anything whatsoever of them, without predi- 
 cating such EXISTENCE at the same time. If we say 
 that *' chance is nothing f we predicate of it, by the 
 word ''is," both existence and nothingness. 
 
 When this is the case, it is by no means to be 
 wondered at, that philosophers should so long have 
 inquired what those existences are which abstract 
 terms were employed to express ; and should have 
 lost themselves in fruitless speculations about the 
 nature of entity, and quiddity, substance, and quality, 
 space, time, necessity, eternity, and so on. 
 
 It is necessary here to take notice of a part of the 
 marking power of Verbs, wliich could not be explained 
 till the nature of the copula was understood. 
 
 Every Verb involves in it the force of the copula. 
 It combines the marking powers of an adjective, and 
 of the copula ; and all Verbs may be resolved into 
 those elements. Thus, ''John walks," is the same 
 with " John is walking," Verbs, therefore, are attri- 
 butives, of the same nature as adjectives, only with 
 additional connotative powers ; and they cut smaller 
 classes out of larger, in the manner of adjectives. 
 Thus " John walks," is an expression, the same in 
 import as the Predication " John is a walking man ;" 
 and, walking men, standing men, running men, lying 
 men, are all sub-species of the Species Man. 
 
 The same unhappy duphcity of meaning, which is 
 incurred by using the Substantive Verb as the copula 
 in Predication, is inflicted on other Vei'bs, in that part 
 of their marking power by which they exhibit the 
 connection between the two terms of a Predication. 
 
 The C(?pw/a, included in Verbs, is not the puhe copula, 
 
SECT. iv.J PREDICATION. 177 
 
 but the ACTUAL copula ; the copula familiar and in con- 
 stant use ; namely, the Substantive Verb. From this 
 it results, that whatever the pecuhar attribute, which 
 is predicated by means of any verb, existence is 
 always predicated along with it. Thus, when I say 
 "John walks," which is equivalent to "John is walk- 
 ing/' I predicate both existence, and walking, of John. 
 When I say, " Caliban existed not," which is the same 
 as ^'Caliban was not existing," I predicate both ex- 
 istence, and non-existence, of the imaginary being 
 Cahban. By the two first words of the Predication, 
 " Caliban was," existence is predicated of him ; by the 
 addition of the compound term "not existing," the 
 opposite is predicated of him. 
 
 The instances, in which the more complicated for- 
 matipns of the mind are the subjects of this double 
 Predication, are those which, from the importance of 
 their consequences, deserve the greatest degree of at- 
 tention. Thus, when we say "virtue exalts," both 
 existing^ and exalting^ are predicated of virtue. When 
 we say that "passion impels," both existence^ and im- 
 pulsion^ are predicated of passion. When we say that 
 "Time generates," and "Space contains all things," 
 we affirm existence of space and time, by the same 
 expression by which we .affirm of the one, that it 
 generates ; of the other, that it contains. This con- 
 stancy of Predication, forcing the same constancy in 
 the junction of the ideas, furnishes a remarkable in- 
 stance of that important case of association, of which 
 we took notice above, where, by frequency of asso- 
 ciation, two ideas become so joined, that the one 
 constantly rises, and cannot be prevented from 
 rising, in combination with the other. Thus it is, 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
178 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 that Time forces itself upon us as an object. So it is 
 with Space. We cannot think of Space, we cannot 
 think of Time, without thinking of them as existent. 
 With the ideas of space and time, the idea of exis- 
 tence, as it is predicated of objects, is so associated, 
 by the use of the Substantive Verb as the copula in 
 predication, that we cannot disjoin them. The same 
 would have been the case with Chance, and Fate, and 
 Nature ; if our religious education did not counteract 
 the association. It was precisely the same, among 
 the Greeks and Romans, whose religious education 
 had not that effect/^ ''* 
 
 ^^ The account of predication above given is in conformity 
 with the phenomena of the family of languages known as the 
 Indo-European. Logicians, in fact, in treating of this subject 
 have had almost exclusive regard to Greek and Latin and the 
 literary languages of modern Europe, which are all of one type. 
 It might therefore be presumed that the theory thus formed 
 would be foun'd not to fit in all its parts when applied to lan- 
 guages of an altogether different structure. The mental process 
 must doubtless be the same in all ; but the words that express 
 the several parts may be used in new and unprecedented ways. 
 Were naturalists to construct a scheme of the animal organism 
 without ever having seen any other animals than those of the 
 vertebrate type, the theory would certainly fail in generality ; 
 certain organs or functions would be set down as essential to 
 animal existence which acquaintance with other classes of crea- 
 tures shows can be quite well dispensed with. Similarly, the 
 current theory of predication, when viewed in the light of a 
 wider and deeper knowledge of the organism of speech, seems 
 to attach an exaggerated importance to the peculiar predicative 
 power presumed to be inherent in verbs, and especially in the 
 verb of existence. It is now a well known fact that in the mono- 
 syllabic class of languages, in which a third part of the human 
 race express their thoughts, there is no distinction among the 
 
SECT. IV.J PREDICATION. 179 
 
 We have now observed, wherein Predication con- 
 sists, and the instruments by which it is performed. 
 
 parts of speech. In Chiaese, for example, the word ta expresses 
 indifferently great, greatness, to be great, to make great or mag- 
 nify, greatly. It is only position that determines in each case 
 how the word is to be understood ; thus traditional convention 
 assigns to tafu the meaning of " a great man," and to fu ta 
 that of " the man is great/' Being habituated to the constant 
 use of the verb is in such a case as the latter, we are apt to 
 suppose that the expression derives its predicative force from 
 its suggesting the verb of existence, which the mind instinc- 
 tively and necessarily supplies for itself How little ground 
 there is for this presumed necessity, has been conclusively 
 shown by the late Mr. Garnett, in his profound and exhaustive 
 essay on the Nature and Analysis of the Verb. Speaking of 
 the theory that makes the essential difference between the verb 
 and other parts of speech to reside in the verb substantive, 
 which is to be supplied by the mind in all cases where the 
 functions of the verb proper are to be called into requisition, 
 he observes : " This theory presupposes the existence of a verb 
 substantive in the languages in question, and consciousness of 
 that existence and of the force and capabilities of the element 
 in those who speak them. Unfortunately the Spanish gram- 
 marians, to whom we are indebted for what knowledge we 
 possessof the Philippine dialects, unanimously concur in stating 
 that there is no verb substantive either in Tagal^, Pampanga, 
 or Bisaya, nor any means of supplying the place of one, except 
 the employment of pronouns and particles. Mariner makes a 
 similar remark respecting the Tonga language ; and we may 
 venture to affirm that there is not such a thing as a true verb 
 substantive in any one member of the great Polynesian family. 
 *'It is true that the Malayan, Javanese and Maiagassy 
 grammarians talk of words signifying to be; but an attentive 
 comparison of the elements which they profess to give as such, 
 shows clearly that they are no verbs at all, but simply pronouns 
 or indeclinable particles, commonly indicating the time, place 
 
 N 2 
 
180 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 We have also, in part, contemplated the End which 
 it is destined to fulfil ; that is, to mark the order in 
 v^hich sensations and ideas follow one another in a 
 
 or manner of the specified action or relation. It is not there- 
 fore easy to conceive how the mind of a Philippine islander, or 
 of any other person, can supply a word totally unknown to it, 
 and which there is not a particle of evidence to show that it 
 ever thought of/' 
 
 Of the substitutes put in place of the substantive verb, by 
 far the most common are pronouns, and particles indicating 
 position. Thus in Coptic, the descendant of the ancient 
 Egyptian, the demonstrative pe, "this," after a noun singular 
 masculine, or te when the noun is feminine, is equivalent to is ; 
 and ne, *' these," after a plural, to are. In the ancient hiero- 
 glyphic monuments the function of the substantive verb is 
 performed by the same means. Even in the Semitic languages, 
 which have substantive verbs, pronouns are habitually used 
 instead of them ; so that 1 1, or I he, stands for / am, and we 
 we or we they, for toe are. " Thou art ray King" (Ps. 44, 5) 
 is in the Hebrew '' Thou he my King ;" '' We are the servants 
 of the God of heaven" (Ezra 5, 11) is in Chaldee '' We they 
 servants of the God of heaven ;' " I am the light of the world," 
 is in Arabic " I he the light of the world." 
 
 Although such modes of expression are foreign to the Indo- 
 European languages, even they furnish abundant evidence of 
 the predicative power of pronouns and particles. If any word 
 required to have inherent in it the peculiar affirmative power 
 attributed to verbs, it is the word yes. Accordingly Tooke 
 derives it from the French imperative a-yez : forgetting, or not 
 knowing, that the Anglo-Saxon gese or yea (cognate with the 
 Sanscrit pronoun ya) was in existence long before the French 
 ayez. The fact is that Eng. yes, Ger. ja, and the corresponding 
 words in the other European languages are oblique cases of 
 demonstrative pronouns, and mean simply "in this (manner)," 
 or "thus." The Italian si (yes) is from Lat. sic, (thus) ; the 
 Proven9al oo is from Lat. hoc ; and the modern Fr. oui was 
 
SECT. IV.J PREDICATION. 181 
 
 train. On this last part of the subject, however, the 
 following observations are still required. 
 
 The trains, the order of which we have occasion to 
 
 originally a combination of hoc illOj and passed through the 
 stages of ocil and oil into its present form. 
 
 The consideration of these and a multitude of similar phe- 
 nomena suggests, that the Sanscrit as-mi, Gr. ei-'irvi, Lat. s-um 
 (for es-uiri), Eng. a-m, may have had for its root the demon- 
 strative pronoun sa, and meant primarily " that (or there) as to 
 me." Be that as it may, all philologists are agreed that the verbs 
 now used to express being in the abstract, expressed originally 
 something physical and palpable. Thus Ital. stato, Fr. ete, 
 been, are from the Lat. statuni, the participle of sto, "to stand ;" 
 and exist itself meant " to stand out or be prominent/' Eng. 
 6e, Lat./u- is identical with Gr, phy- " to grow ;'' and, accord- 
 ing to Max Miiller, as the root of as-mi meant '' breath" or 
 " breathing.'* It may then be safely affirmed that no word had 
 for its primaryfunctio.n to express mere existence; it seems 
 enough for the purpose of predication that existence be implied. 
 
 With regard to ordinary verbs, the analytic processes of 
 comparative grammar show no traces of a substantive verb 
 entering into their structure. It is now an accepted doctrine 
 of philology that, as a rule, the root of a verb is of the 
 Mature of an abstract noun ; and that it became a verb simply 
 by the addition of a pronominal affix — as in the Greek Si-8w- 
 fjit, Si-S(D-Cj Si-Sw-(Ti, in which the terminations were originally 
 -fxi,-(jL TL. The habits of thought arising out of the present 
 analytic state of the Indo-European languages naturally lead 
 us to conceive these pronominal affixes as nominatives. But 
 gift I does not seem a very natural way of getting at the 
 meaning " I give ;" and therefore Mr. Garnett maintains that 
 the affixes were originally in an oblique case — the genitive or 
 the instrumental — so that the literal meaning was '' gift of 
 me," or " giving by me.'^ That this is the nature of the verb 
 in the agglutinate languages — by far the most numerous 
 claas — it seems hardly possible to dispute; for in these the 
 
182 
 
 NAMING. 
 
 [chap. IV. 
 
 mark, may for the elucidation of the present subject, 
 be divided into two classes. We have occasion to 
 
 affixes remain rigidly distinct and little disguised. Thus, 
 according to Garnett, the "Wotiak, in order to express "my 
 son," "thy son," &c., joins oblique cases of the personal 
 
 pronouns to the noun pi 
 
 pi-i . 
 
 pi-ed 
 pi-ez 
 pi -mi 
 pi-dy 
 pi-zy 
 
 bera-i . . 
 bera-d . . 
 bera-z . . 
 bera-my . 
 bera-dy . 
 bera-zy . 
 
 in the following way : — 
 . son of me 
 . son of thee 
 . son of him 
 . son of us 
 . son of you 
 . son of them 
 
 In an exactly similar way the preterite of the verb to speak 
 stands thus — 
 
 speech of me=I spoke 
 Hpeech of thee 
 speech of him 
 speech of us 
 speech of you 
 speech of them 
 In the Fiji language loma means " heart" or ** will ;" and 
 loma-qu (heart of me) may, according to the connection, sig- 
 nify either " my heart or will," or " I will.'* 
 
 In the inflected languages the affixes are so amalgamated 
 with the root and otherwise obliterated that there is no such 
 direct evidence of their nature ; but a great many facts tend 
 to show that the structure of the verb was originally the same 
 as in the agglutinate family. 
 
 If this analysis of the verb is correct, the affirmation of ex- 
 istence found no expression in the early stages of language ; 
 the real copula connecting the subject with the predicate was 
 the proposition contained in the oblique case oj the pronomi- 
 nal affix. — F, 
 
 ^* The interesting and important philological facts adduced 
 by Mr. Findlater, confirm and illustrate in a very striking 
 manner the doctrine in the text, of the radical distinction 
 
SECT. IV.] PREDICATION. 183 
 
 mark, either, first, The series of the objects we have 
 seen, heard, or otherwise perceived by our senses ; or, 
 
 between the functions of the copula in predication, and those 
 of the substantive verb ; by shewing that many languages 
 have no substantive verb, no verb expressive of mere exist- 
 tence, and yet signify their predications by other means ; and 
 that probably all languages began without a substantive verb, 
 though they must always have had predications. 
 
 The confusion between these two different functions in the 
 European languages, and the ambiguity of the verb To Be, 
 which fulfils them both, are among the most important of the 
 minor philosophical truths to which attention has been called 
 by the author of the Analysis. As in the case of many other 
 luminous thoughts, an approach is found to have been made 
 to it by previous thinkers. Hobbes, though he did not reach 
 it, came very close to it, and it was still more distinctly anti- 
 cipated by Laromigui^re, though without any sufficient per- 
 ception of its value. It occurs in a criticism on a passage of 
 Pascal, and in the following words. " Quand on dit, 1 etre 
 est, etc, le mot est, ou le verbe, n'exprime pas la meme chose 
 que le mot ^tre, sujet de la definition. Si j'enonce la propo- 
 sition suivante : Dieu est existant, je ne voudrais pas dire 
 assurdment, Dieu existe existant : cela ne ferait pas un sens ; 
 de meme, si je dis que Virgile est poete,je ne veuxpasdonner 
 a entendre que Virgile existe. Le verbe est, dans la propo- 
 sition, n'exprime done pas I'existence reelle ; il n'exprime 
 qu'un rapport special entre le sujet et Tattribut, le rapport du 
 contenant au contenu," &c. (Le9ons de Philosophie, 7™^ ed. 
 vol. i. p. 307.) Having thus hit upon an unobvious truth in 
 the course of an argument directed to another purpose, he 
 passes on and takes no further notice of it. 
 
 It may seem strange that the verb which signifies existence 
 should have been employed in so many different languages as 
 the sign of predication, if there is no real connection between 
 the two meanings. Bat languages have been built up by the 
 extension of an originally small number of words, with or 
 
184 NAMING. [chap. TV. 
 
 secondly, A train of thoughts which may have passed 
 in our minds. 
 
 1. When v^e come to record a train of the objects 
 we have perceived, that is, a train of sensations, the 
 sensations have become ideas ; for the objects are not 
 now acting on our senses, and the sensations are at 
 an end. 
 
 The order of the objects of our senses, is either the 
 order of time, or the order of place. The first is the 
 order of succession; when one object comes first, 
 another next, and so on. The second is the order of 
 POSITION; when the objects are considered as simul- 
 taneous, but different in distance and direction from a 
 particular point. 
 
 Let us observe in what manner the artifice of Pre- 
 
 witbout alterations of form, to t;xpress new meanings, the 
 choice of the word being often determined by very distant 
 analogies. In the present case, the analogy is not distant. All 
 our predications are intended to declare the maner in which 
 something affects, or would affect, ourselves or others. Our 
 idea of existence is simply, the idea of something which affects 
 or would affect us somehow, without distinction of mode. 
 Everything, therefore, which we can have occasion to assert 
 of an existing thing, may be looked upon as a particular 
 mode of its existence. Since snow is white, and since snow 
 exists, it may be said to exist white ; and if a sign was wanted 
 by which to predicate white of snow, the word exists would be 
 very likely to present itself. But most of our predications do 
 relate to existing things : and this being so, it is in the ordi- 
 nary course of the human mind that the same sign should be 
 adhered to when we are predicating something of a merely 
 imaginary thing (an abstraction, for instance) and that, being 
 so used, it should create an association between the abstrac- 
 tion and the notion of real existence. — Ed. 
 
SECT. IV. j PREDICATION. 185 
 
 dication is adapted to the marking of a train in either 
 of those orders : and first, with respect to a train in 
 the order of Time. 
 
 Of this the following may be taken as a simple 
 example. " The sun rises ; clouds form ; clouds cover 
 the sky; lightning flashes; thunder roars." It is 
 easy in these expressions to observe, what were the 
 sensations, and in what order they succeeded one 
 another. It is also observable, that the order is 
 denoted by so many Predications ; and that Predica- 
 tion is our only expedient for denoting their order. 
 First sensation, '' sight of the sun ;" second sensation, 
 " rising of the sun ;" these two denoted shortly and in 
 their order by the Predication, ''the sun rises. ^' Third 
 sensation, " sight of clouds ;" fourth sensation, *' form- 
 ing of clouds ;" these two again shortly denoted in 
 their order by the Predication, *' clouds form." The 
 next, ''clouds cover the sky," needs no further expla- 
 nation ; but there is a peculiar artifice of language in 
 the two following Predications; "lightning flashes," 
 "thunder roars," which deserves to be well understood. 
 " Lightning flashes ;" here there is but one sensation, 
 the sensation of sight, which we caU a flash. But 
 there are various kinds of flashes ; this is a peculiar 
 one, and I want to mark peculiarly what it is. It is 
 not a flash on the earth, but a flash in the sky ; it 
 will not, however, sufficiently distinguish the flash in 
 question, to say, the sky flashes, because other flashes 
 come fi:om the sky. What then is my contrivance ? 
 I form the fancy of a cause of this particular flash, 
 though I know nothing concerning it, and for this 
 unknown cause I invent a name, and caU it lightning. 
 I have then an expression which always accurately 
 
186 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 marks the sensation I mean to denote : I say, ^^the 
 lightning flashes," "a flash of lightning," and so on. 
 '^ Thunder roars," is another case of the same artifice. 
 The noise here is the only sensation ; but in order to 
 distinguish it from aU other noises, I invent a name 
 for its unknown cause, and by its means can mark the 
 sensation v^ith perfect precision. 
 
 The Fictions, after this manner resorted to, for the 
 purpose of marking ; though important among the 
 artifices of naming ; have contributed largely to the 
 misdirection of thought. 
 
 By the unfortunate ambiguity of the Copula, ex- 
 istence is affirmed of them in every Predication into 
 which they enter. The idea of existence becomes, 
 by this means, inseparable from them ; and their true 
 nature, as Creatures of the mind, and nothing more, 
 is rarely, and not without difficulty, perceived. 
 
 The mode in which a train, in the order of place, is 
 marked by the artifice of Predication, may be thus 
 exemphfied : " The house is on a hiU ; a lawn is in 
 front ; a stable is on the left hand ; a garden is on 
 the right; a wood is behind." It is not necessary, 
 after the exposition of the preceding example, to ex- 
 hibit the detail of the marking performed by these 
 Predications. The reader can trace the sensations, 
 the order of them, and the mode of the marking, 
 according to the specimen which has just been ex- 
 hibited. 
 
 2. The trains of thought which pass in our minds, 
 are sequences, the items of which are connected in 
 three principal ways : 1st, as cause and effect ; 2dly, 
 as resembhng ; 3dly, as included under the same 
 name. A short illustration of each of these cases will 
 
SECT. IV.] PREDICATION. 187 
 
 complete the account of predicatioiij as a contrivance 
 for marking the order of ideas. 
 
 To illustrate a sequence, connected as Cause and 
 Effect, let me suppose that I have a flint and steel in 
 my hand, which I am about to strike, one against the 
 other, but at that instant perceive a barrel of gun- 
 powder open, close before me. I withhold the stroke 
 in consequence of the train of thought which suggests 
 to me the ultimate effect. If I have occasion to mark 
 the train, I can only do it by a series of Predications, 
 each of which marks a sequence in the train of causes 
 and effects. '' I strike the flint on the steel," first 
 sequence. ''The stroke produces a spark," second 
 sequence. "The spark falls on gunpowder,'' third 
 sequence. '' The spark ignites the gunpowder," 
 fourth sequence. " The gunpowder ignited makes an 
 explosion," fifth sequence. The ideas contained in 
 these propositions must all have passed through my 
 mind, and this is the only mode in which language 
 enables me to mark them in their order. ^^ 
 
 ^^ It is necessary agaia to notice the consistent omission, 
 throughout the author's theory of Predication, of the element 
 Eehef. In the case supposed, the ideas contained in all the 
 propositions might have passed through the mind, without our 
 being led to assert the propositions. I might have thought of 
 every step in the series of phenomena mentioned, might have 
 pictured all of them in my imagination, and have come to the 
 conclusion that they would not happen. I therefore should 
 not have made, either in words or in thought, the predication, 
 This gunpowder will explode if I strike the flint against the 
 steel. Yet the same ideas would have passed through my 
 mind in the same order, in which they stand in the text. The 
 only deficient link would have been the final one, the Belief. 
 —Ed. 
 
188 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 The sequences of which the items are connected by 
 Resemblance will not require much illustration. I 
 see A, who suggests B to me by his stature. B sug- 
 gests C by the length of his nose. C suggests D by 
 the similarity of their profession, and so on. The 
 series of my thoughts is sufficiently obvious. How 
 do I proceed when I have occasion to mark it '( I 
 use a series of predications. " I see A ;" this predi- 
 cation marks the first item, my sight of A. *' A is 
 tall," the second. '* A man of like tallness is B," the 
 third ; and so on. 
 
 The mode in which thoughts are united in a Syllo- 
 gism, is the leading example of the third case. Let 
 us consider the following very familiar instance. 
 " Every tree is a vegetable : every oak is a tree : there- 
 fore, every oak is a vegetable." This is evidently a 
 process of naming. The primary idea is that of the 
 object called an oak ; fi:om the name oak, I proceed 
 to the name tree, finding that the name oak, is in- 
 cluded in the name tree ; and from the name tree, I 
 proceed to the name vegetable, finding that the name 
 tree is included in the name vegetable, and by conse- 
 quence the name oak. This is the series of thoughts, 
 which is marked in order, by the three propositions 
 or predications of the syllogism. ^^ 
 
 ^^ For the present I shall only remark on this theory of the 
 syllogism, that it must stand or fall with the theory of Predi- 
 cation of which it is the sequel. If, as I have maintained, the 
 propositions which are the premises of the syllogism are not 
 correctly described as mere processes of naming, neither is 
 the formula by which a third proposition is elicited from these 
 two a process of mere naming. What it is, will be considered 
 hereafter. — £d. 
 
SECT. IV.J PREDICATION. 189 
 
 The Predications of Arithmetic are another instance 
 of the same thing. "One and one are two." This 
 again is a mere process of naming. What I call one 
 and one, in numbering things, are objects, sensations, 
 or clusters of sensations ; suppose, the striking of the 
 clock. The same sounds which I call one and one, I 
 call also two ; I have for these sensations, therefore, 
 two names which are exactly equivalent : so when I 
 say, one and one and one are three : or when I say, 
 two and two are four : ten and ten are twenty : and 
 the same when I put together any two numbers what- 
 soever. The series of thoughts in these instances is 
 merely a series of names applicable to the same thing, 
 and meaning the same thing. 
 
 Beside the two purposes of language, of which I 
 took notice at the beginning of this inquiry ; the re- 
 cording of a man's thoughts for his own use, and the 
 communication of them to others ; there is a use, to 
 which language is subservient, of which some account 
 is yet to be given. There are complex sensations, and 
 complex ideas, made up of so many items, that one is 
 not distinguishable jfrom another. Thus, a figure of 
 one hundred sides, is not distinguishable from one of 
 ninety-nine sides. A thousand men in a crowd are 
 not distinguishable from nine hundred and ninety- 
 nine. But in all cases, in which the complexity of 
 the idea arises from the repetition of the same idea, 
 names can be invented upon a plan, which shall render 
 them distinct, up to the very highest degree of com- 
 plication. Numbers are a set of names contrived upon 
 this plan, and for this very purpose. Ten and the 
 numbers below ten, are the repetition of so many 
 ones : twenty, thirty, forty, &c., up to a hundred, are 
 
190 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 the repetition of so many tens : two hundred, three 
 hundred, &c., the repetition of so many hundreds; 
 and so on. These are names, which afford an imme- 
 diate reference to the ones or units, of which they are 
 composed ; and the highest numbers are as easily dis- 
 tinguished by the difference of a unit as the lowest. 
 All the processes of Arithmetic are only so many 
 contrivances to substitute a distinct name for an in- 
 distinct one. What, for example, is the purpose of 
 addition ? Suppose I have six numbers, of which I 
 desire to take the sum, 18, 14, 9, 25, 19, 15 ; these 
 names, eighteen, and fourteen, and nine, &c., form a 
 compound name ; but a name which is not distinct. 
 By summing them up, I get another name, exactly 
 equivalent, one hundred, which is in the highest de- 
 gree distinct, and gives me an immediate reference to 
 the units or items of which it is composed ; and this 
 is of the highest utility. 
 
 That the Predications of Geometry are of the same 
 nature with those of Arithmetic, is a truth of the 
 greatest importance, and capable of being established 
 by very obvious reasoning. It is well known, that all 
 reasoning about quantity can be expressed in the form 
 of algebraic equations. But the two sides of an alge- 
 braic equation are of necessity two marks or two names 
 for the same thing ; of which the one on the right- 
 hand side is more distinct, at least to the present pur- 
 pose of the inquirer, than the one on the left-hand 
 side; and the whole purpose of an algebraic investiga- 
 tion, which is a mere series of changes of names, is to 
 obtain, at last, a distinct name, a name the marking 
 power of which is perfectly known to us, on the right- 
 hand side of the equation. The language of geometry 
 
SECT. IV.J PKEDICATION. 191 
 
 itself, in the more simple cases, makes manifest the 
 same observation. The amount of the three angles of 
 a triangle, is twice a right angle. I arrive at this 
 conclusion, as it is called, by a process of reasoning : 
 that is to say, I find out a name '' twice a right angle," 
 which much more distinctly poiats out to me a certain 
 quantity, than my first name, "amount of the three 
 angles of a triangle ;" and the process by which I 
 arrive at this name is a successive change of names, 
 and nothing more ; as any one may prove to himself 
 by merely observing the steps of the demonstration/^ 
 There is one important class of words, the names 
 of NAMES ; of which we shall have occasion to take 
 account more particularly hereafter, and of which it 
 is necessary here to speak only as they form a variety 
 of Predication. A few examples will make the case 
 
 ^^ I cannot see any propriety in the expression that when 
 we infer the sum of the three angles of a triangle to be twice 
 a right angle, the operation consists in finding a second name 
 which more distinctly points out the quantity than the first 
 name. When we assent to the proof of this theorem, we do 
 much more than obtain a new and more expressive name for a 
 known fact ; we learn a fact previously unknown. It is true 
 that one result of our knowledge of this theorem is to give 
 us a name for the sum of the three angles, "the marking 
 power of which is perfectly known to us :" but it was not for 
 want of knowing the marking power of the phrase " sum of 
 the three angles of a triangle" that we did not know what that 
 sum amounted to. We knew perfectly what the expression 
 " sum of the three angles" was appointed to mark. What we 
 have obtained, that we did not previously possess, is not a 
 better mark for the same thing, but an additional fact to mark 
 — the fact which is marked by predicating of that sum, the 
 phrase "twice a right angle." — Ed, 
 
192 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 intelligible. Word is a generical name for all Names. 
 It is not the name of a Thing, as chair is the name of 
 a thing, or watch, or picture. But word is a name for 
 these several names ; chair is a word, watch is a word, 
 picture is a word, and so of all other names. Thus 
 grammatical and logical terms are names of names. 
 The word noun, is the name of one class of words. 
 verb of another, preposition of another, and so on. 
 The word sentence, is the name of a series of words 
 put together for a certain purpose ; the v^ordi paragraph 
 the same ; and so oration, discourse^ essay^ treatise, &c. 
 The words genus and species, are not names of things, 
 but of names. Genus is not the name of any thing 
 called animal or any thing called body ; it is a name 
 of the names animal, body, and so on ; the name animal 
 is a genus ^ the name body is a genus ; and in like man- 
 ner is the name man a species, the name horse, the 
 name crow, and so on. The name proposition, the 
 name syllogism, are names of a series of words put 
 together for a particular purpose; and so is the term de- 
 finition ; and the term argument It will be easily seen 
 that these words enter into Predication precisely on 
 the same principles as other words. Either the more 
 distinct is predicated of the less distinct, its equiva- 
 lent ; or the more comprehensive of the less compre- 
 hensive. Thus we say, that nouns and verbs are de- 
 clinables ; preposition and adverb indeclinables ; where 
 the more comprehensive terms are predicated of the 
 less. Thus we say, that adjectives and verbs are 
 attributes ; where the more distinct is predicated of 
 the less.^^ 
 
 58 
 
 This exposition of the class of words which are properly 
 names of names, belongs originally to Hobbes, and is highly 
 
SECT. IV. j PREDICATION. 193 
 
 important. They are a kind of names, the signification of 
 which is v^ry often misunderstood, and has given occasion to 
 much hazy speculation. It should however be remarked that 
 the words genus and species are not solely names of names ; 
 they are ambiguous. A genus never indeed means (as many of 
 the schoolmen supposed) an abstract entity, distinct from all the 
 individuals composing the class ; but it often means the sum of 
 those individuals taken collectively ; the class as a whole, dis- 
 tinguished on the one hand from the single objects comprising 
 it, and on the other hand from the class name. — Ed, 
 
 VOL. I, O 
 
194 KAMTNG. [chap. IV. 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 PRONOUNS. 
 
 The principal part of the artifice of Naming is now 
 explained. We have considered the nature of the 
 more necessary marks, and the manner in which they 
 are combined so as to represent the order of a train. 
 Beside those marks, which are the fundamental part of 
 language, there are several classes of auxiliary words 
 or marks, the use of which is, to abbreviate expression, 
 and to render it, what is of great importance, a more 
 rapid vehicle of thought. These are usually com- 
 prehended under the titles of pronoun, adverb, pre- 
 position, and conjunction ; a classification which, for 
 our present purpose, has the best recommendation, 
 that of being familiarly known. 
 
 It is to be distinctly understood, that in the account 
 which is here to be given of the subsidiary parts of 
 speech, it is but one part of the explanation of them 
 which will be attempted. The ideas, which many of 
 them stand for, are of the most complicated kind, and 
 have not yet been expounded. We are, therefore, not 
 yet prepared to point out the items which they mark. 
 Our present business is only to indicate the mode in 
 which they are used in Predication, as part of the 
 great contrivance for marking the order of a train of 
 ideas, and for economizing the number of words. 
 
 It is also necessary to observe, that I have limited 
 myself, in this part, to brief indications, without 
 
SECT, v.] PRONOUNS. 195 
 
 going into minute development, the length of which, 
 it appeared to me, would not be compensated by the 
 advantage. 
 
 In all speech their is a speaker ; there is some 
 person spoken to ; and there is some person or thing 
 spoken of. These objects constitute three Classes, 
 marks of which are perpetually required. Any artifice, 
 therefore, to abridge the use of marks, of such frequent 
 recurrence, was highly to be desired. One expedient 
 offered itself obviously, as likely to prove of the highest 
 utility. Speake7'S constituted one class, with numerous 
 names ; persons spoken to, a second class ; persons and 
 things spoken of, a third. A generical name might be 
 invented for each class ; a name, which would include 
 all of a class, and which singly might be used as the 
 substitute of many. For this end were the Personal 
 Pronouns invented and such is their character and 
 office. '' I," is the generical mark which includes all 
 marks of the class, speakers. " Thou," is a generical 
 mark, which includes all marks of the class, persons 
 spoken to. '^ He," ''she," ''it," are marks, which 
 include all marks of the class, persons or things spo- 
 ken of. 
 
 By forming Adjectives from certain kinds of Nouns 
 we obtain a useful class of specific names. From 
 wool we make woollen ; and woollen, attached to va- 
 rious generic names, furnishes us with specific names ; 
 thus we say woollen cloth, which is a species of cloth ; 
 woollen yarn, which is a species of yarn ; woollen gar- 
 ment, which is a species of garment. So, from the word 
 gold we make golden, which furnishes us with a greater 
 number of specific names ; from wood wooden, which 
 furnishes us with a still greater number. Adjectives are 
 
 o 2 
 
196 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 formed in like manner from the personal pronouns : 
 from I, my or mine; from Thou, thy or thine; from He, 
 She, It, his, hers, its ; also from the plurals of them, 
 ours, yours, theirs. These adjectives answer a purpose 
 of very frequent recurrence ; that of singling out, from 
 any class of objects, a sub-class, or an individual, 
 bearing a peculiar relation, to the pe7'son speaking^ the 
 person spoken to, or the person or thing spoken of. Thus, 
 when I say, my sheep or my oxen, I denote a sub-class 
 of those animals, those which stand in the relation of 
 property to the speaker; when I say thy sheep or oxen, 
 I denote a sub-class in the same relation to the person 
 spoken to ; and when I say his sheep or oxen, a sub- 
 class, standing in that relation to the person spoken of 
 When I say my son, thy wife, his father, I single out 
 individuals having that relation. 
 
 The Demonstrative Pronouns, This and That, are 
 of great utility. They serve to individualize any 
 thing in a class. One of these marks put upon a 
 specific mark, makes it an individual mark. Thus, the 
 mark " man," is the name of a class : put upon it the 
 mark this, or that ; this man, and that man, are 
 marks, signs, or names, of individuals. In this man- 
 ner innumerable individual namescanbemade, without 
 adding a single word to the cumbrous materials of 
 language. 
 
 The nature of the Relative Pronoun is not difficult 
 to understand. It supplies the place of a personal 
 pronoun and a conjunction, in connecting a Predica- 
 tion with the subject, or predicate of another pro- 
 position. Thus, " John received a wound, which 
 occasioned his death," is of the same import as '' John 
 received a wound, and it occasioned his death." This 
 
SECT. V.J PJaONOUNS. 197 
 
 is a case in which the Relative connects a subsequent 
 predication with the predicate of an antecedent predi- 
 cation. The following are cases in which it connects 
 a subordinate predication with the subject of the prin- 
 cipal one : '' Erasmus, who was a lover of truth, but of 
 a timid character, hesitated between the new and the 
 old religion." Erasmus, and lie was a lover of truth, 
 &c. ''The man who spoke to you is my father.'' 
 " The man spoke to you, and he is my father."'® 
 
 ^^ There is really no well marked distinctioa between rela- 
 tive pronouns and demonstrative pronouns, either in their 
 origin or in their use. Of the demonstrative roots ha, sa, ta, 
 jojj derivatives from the gutteral ha prevail as relatives in Latin 
 and its modern descendants (Lat. qui, It. che, Fr. qui), and in 
 the Teutonic languages (Goth, hva, Eng. who, Ger. wer, 
 welch), but by no means exclusively. In Greek the relative 
 differs little from the article, which is also used as a demon- 
 strative and a personal pronoun. Modern Italian uses as a 
 demonstrative a compound of the Latin qui with iste and ilia 
 — questo, quella. In German the relative proper, viz. welch, 
 is comparatively little used, its place being supplied by the 
 article der, which is merely an unemphatic demonstrative ; and 
 in English that is perhaps aH often used as who or which. 
 
 The relative serves for two purposes, which it is useful to 
 distinguish. (1) It may add on either a clause containing an 
 independent proposition, as in the example in the text, "John 
 received a wound, which occasioned his death ;" or a clause 
 dependent in some way upon the preceding— e.^. assigning the 
 reason of it, as, " It was unjust to punish the servant, who 
 only did what he was ordered." (2) The clause introduced by 
 the relative may serve simply to Umit or define a noun, in the 
 way that an adjective or another noun in apposition does, as 
 '' The man who spoke to you is my father." It is in this 
 latter use of the relative, and in no other, that it is permissible 
 
198 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 The Interrogative is easily explained. It is merely 
 the Relative, in a very elliptical form of expression. 
 The interrogative sentence, " Who gave you that 
 book ?" when the subaudition is supplied, is thus ex- 
 pressed : The person gave you the book, and hi?)) I 
 will you to name to me. *' What is the hour of the 
 day ?" is an elliptical form of, — It is an hour of the 
 day, a7id it I will you to tell me. 
 
 in 'EugVish to Mse that ; to substitute that for ivhich in the 
 first of the other two sentences, or for who in the second, 
 would give a different meaning. Now it is only in the cases 
 in which that could not be substituted for who or which that the 
 relative involves the force of a conjunction ; and it is not always 
 and that is the coDJuuction involved. The coDJunction has no 
 verbal expression, and never had; it is only suggested, and the 
 mind supplies that which best suits the logical connection. 
 When the predication of the relative clause is co-ordinate with 
 the preceding, as in the tirst example, and is the proper con- 
 junction to supply. In the sentence about the punishment of 
 the servant, who is equivalent to /cr lie ; and in thait about 
 Erasmus, in the text, to inasmttch as he. When the relative 
 clause merely defines, no conjunction of any kind is even 
 implied. In such a sentence as "He rewarded the man that 
 rescued him," the relative clause is the answer to a question 
 naturally suggested by " lie rewarded the man" — what man ? 
 " The or that (man) rescued him;"' which is equivalent to, " his 
 rescuer." To resolve it into "And that man rescued him," 
 gives quite a different meaning; namely, that he rewarded 
 some man (otherwise known to the hearers) for sometiiin^r 
 (likewise known to them), and that this man now rescued 
 huu.— i^. 
 
SECT. VI .J ADVERBS, 1,99 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 
 ADVERBS. 
 
 The power of this class of words, in the great busi- 
 ness of marking, and the extent of the sei^ice ren- 
 dered by them, will be so easily seen, that a few words 
 will suffice to explain them. Adverbs may be reduced 
 under five heads; 1, Adverbs of Time; 2, Adverbs 
 of Place ; 3, Adverbs of Quantity ; 4, Adverbs of 
 Quality ; 5, Adverbs of Relation. They are mostly 
 abridgments, capable of being substituted for longer 
 marks. And they are always employed for the pur- 
 pose of putting a modification upon the Subject, or 
 the Predicate, of a Proposition. A few examples will 
 suffice for the further elucidation of this subject. 
 '' Anciently," is an adverb of time. It is of the same 
 import as the expression, " In distant past time." It 
 is applied to modify the subject, or predicate, of a pro- 
 position, as in the following example : ''A number of 
 men anciently in England had wives in common." 
 ''Had wives in common," is the predicate of the 
 above proposition, and it is modified, or limited, in 
 respect to time, by the word " aiaciently." Adverbs 
 of place it is easy to exempUfy in the same maimer. 
 Under adverbs of quantity all those which mark 
 degrees may be included ; as greatly, minutely : 
 Thus, " He enlarged greatly upon patriotism : '' 
 ''Greatly" here means "in many words;" and it 
 modifies the predicate, "enlarged," &c. Adverbs of 
 
200 NAMINO. [chap. IV. 
 
 quality and relation are exceedingly numerous, because 
 they are easily made from the words which connote 
 the quality or relation : thus, from hard, hardly ; from 
 loud, loudly ; from sweet, sweetly ; from warm, 
 warmly : again, from father, paternally ; from son, 
 fihally ; from magistrate, magisterially ; from high, 
 highly ; from expensive, expensively ; and so on. In 
 all this no difficulty is presented which requires 
 removing.^ 
 
 ^^ In many cases, and even in some of the examples given, 
 the adverb does not modify either the subject or the predicate, 
 but the application of the one to the other. " Anciently," in 
 the proposition cited, is intended to limit and qualify not 
 men, nor community of wives, but the practice by men of 
 community of wives : it is a circumstance affecting not the 
 subject or the predicate, but the predication. The qualifica- 
 tion of past and distant time attaches to the fact asserted, and 
 to the copula, which is the mark of assertion. Tne reason of 
 its seeming to attach to the predicate is because, as the author 
 remarked in a previous section, the predicate, when a verb, in- 
 cludes the copula. — Ed. 
 
SECT. VII.] PREPOSITIONS. 201 
 
 SECTION VIL 
 
 PREPOSITIONS. 
 
 It is easy to see in what manner Prepositions are 
 employed to abridge the process of discourse. They 
 render us the same service which, we have seen, is 
 rendered by adjectives, in affording the means of 
 naming minor classes, taken out of larger, with a 
 great economy of names. Thus, when we say, "a 
 man with a black skin," this compound name, " a 
 man with a black skin ;" is the name of a sub-class, 
 taken out of the class man ; and when we say, '' a 
 black man with a flat nose and woolly hair ;" this 
 stiU more compound name is the name of a minor class, 
 taken out of the sub-class, " men with a black skin." 
 
 Prepositions always stand before some word of 
 the class called by grammarians nouns substantive. 
 And these nouns substantive they connect with other 
 nouns substantive, with adjectives, or with verbs. 
 We shall consider the use of them, in each of those 
 cases. 
 
 1. Substantives are united to Substantives by 
 prepositions, on purpose to mark something added, 
 something taken away, something possessed or owned. 
 Thus, a man with a dog, a horse without a saddle, a 
 man of wealth, a man of pleasure, and so on. 
 
 It was first shewn by Mr. Home Tooke, that pre- 
 positions, in their origin, are verbs, or nouns. Thus 
 the prepositions in Enghsh, which note the modifica- 
 tions effected by adding to, or taking from, were 
 
202 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 originally concrete words, which, beside something 
 connoted by them, marked psurticulsiTlj junction^ or dis- 
 junction. In the use of them as prepositions, that 
 part of their signification, which we have called the 
 connotation, has been dropped ; and the notation alone 
 remains. Prepositions, therefore, are a sort of abstract 
 terms, to answer a particular purpose. To express my 
 idea of a man with a dog (a very complex idea, con- 
 sisting of two clusters ; one, that which is marked by 
 the term man ; the other, that which is marked by 
 the term dog) ; it is not enough that I set down the 
 term Man, and the term Dog ; it is necessary, besides, 
 that I have a mark for that particular junction of them, 
 which my mind is making. For that mark I use the 
 preposition "' with." " Without'' denotes disjunction 
 in a similar manner, and requires no further explana- 
 tion. The preposition " of," by which possession or 
 ownership is denoted, (formerly, as remarked by Mr. 
 Gilchxist, written og, oc, ac, &c.), is eke, or add. If 
 we suppose that our verb have is of the same origin, 
 of is merely the verb, which signifies possessing ; and 
 the learner may thus conceive the nature of its diffe- 
 rent appHcations. ''^ * ' A man of wealth, " a man 
 hav(ing) wealth ; '* a field of ten acres," a field 
 hav(ing) ten acres ; so, "a house of splendour;" ''a 
 woman of gallantry ;" in all of which cases, beside 
 the two clusters of ideas, marked by the two names 
 which the preposition connects, there is an idea of 
 possession coming between. 
 
 Here, however, a pecuharity is to be noted. When 
 there is a possessor, there is something possessed. 
 
 * See note at p. 209. 
 
SECT. VII.J PKEPOSITIONS. 203 
 
 The preposition, therefore, which marks the relation 
 between the possessor and the possessed, stands ambi- 
 guously between the active and the passive power. 
 It, therefore, partakes more of the active or the 
 passive signification, according to the position of the 
 words which it is employed to connect. In the in- 
 stances previously given, we have seen that it had 
 clearly an active signification. In the following it 
 has clearly a passive. "The book of John;" the 
 book of\ hav(ed) John. " The Creator of the world ;" 
 Creator hav(ed). '' The wealth of Croesus ;" wealth 
 hav(ed). 
 
 Of is employed in a partitive sense, when one of 
 the words denotes a part of the other; as "half of 
 the army;" "many of the people;" "much of the 
 loss." In this case the idea of possession is suffi- 
 ciently obvious to support the analogy. The parts 
 are possessed, had, by the whole. " Part of the debt," 
 part hav(ed) the debt. 
 
 It is easy to see how the preposition with a sub- 
 stantive, serves the purpose of a new adj ective. 
 Thus, in the expression, "a man with one eye,'' the 
 words, " with one eye," might have been supplied by 
 an adjective, having the same meaning or marking 
 power ; and the French language actually has such an 
 adjective, in the mark boryne. We sa,y, a man with 
 red hair, and we have the adjective, red-haired ; a man 
 of wealth, and we have the adjective, wealthy ; a man 
 of strength, and we have the adjective, strong; cases 
 which distinctly exemplify our observation. 
 
 2. We come now to shew in what manner, and 
 with what advantage, prepositions are employed to 
 connect Substantives with Adjectives. The followmg 
 
204 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 classes of adjectives will furnish sufficient illustration 
 of this part of the subject : 1, Adjectives of place or 
 position ; Adjectives of time or succession; 3, Adjec- 
 tives signifying profit or disprofit ; 4, Adjectives of 
 plenty or want ; 5, Adjectives signifying an ajffection 
 or state of the mind. 
 
 Adjectives of position, such as near, distant, high, 
 low, have the ordinary power of adjectives, as marks 
 upon marks ; and an additional power, which will best 
 be explained by examples. When we say ''a distant 
 house," " a neighbouring town ;" the words " distant," 
 and '' neighbouring," are not only marks upon 
 "house," and ''town," but refer to something else: 
 "a distant house," is a house distant from something ; 
 "a neiyhbouring town," is a town neighbouring sonte- 
 tliing : it may mean " a house distant from my house," 
 "a town neighbouring my house :" in these cases, we 
 should say that the adjective has both a notation, and 
 a connotation. The adjective distant, for example, 
 notes house, and connotes my house ; neighbouring, 
 notes town, connotes my house. It is next, however, 
 to be observed, that the connotation, in such cases, 
 would be vague without a mark to determine it. The 
 expression would be very imperfect, if, after the word 
 high, we were merely to put the word " hill ;" and say, 
 'Hhe house is high the hill;" or, ''the house is dis- 
 tant the post-town." Prepositions supply this defect. 
 We say, ''the house is high on the hill ;" '* the house 
 is distant /r(???i the post-town." In the case of some 
 adjectives, their juxta-position makes the: reference 
 sufficiently precise ; and in that case, the preposition 
 may be dispensed with ; as, near the town, near the 
 roadj &c. 
 
SECT. VII.J PREPOSITIOj^S. 205 
 
 It is observable, that the adjectives of position are 
 not numerous. Some very general ones are used ; 
 and the sub-species are formed out of them by the aid 
 of prepositions. Thus we have the word placed, 
 which includes all positions ; and this, joined with a 
 substantive and a preposition, marks positions of all 
 kinds : thus we can say, placed on the right hand, 
 placed on the left hand, placed behind the house, 
 placed before the house, placed above it, placed below 
 it, placed in it, and so on. 
 
 It is not my intention to inquhre into the precise 
 meaning of each of the prepositions. It is sufficient 
 to have given a sample of the inquiry, as in the case 
 of the prepositions which connect substantives with 
 substantives ; and to have shewn the mode of their 
 signification, as a kind of abstract terms, either active 
 or passive. 
 
 The varieties of time or succession are not many, 
 and the words to denote them, proportionally few. 
 Previous, simultaneous, posterior, are the principal 
 adjectives ; and the terms to which these words of 
 reference point, are marked by prepositions : thus we 
 say, previous to, simultaneous to, and also with ; 
 *' with," as we have seen, denoting junction, sameness 
 of time. 
 
 Adjectives of profit or disprofit, need prepositions 
 to mark their connexion with the things benefited or 
 hurt ; as, hurtful to the crop ; good for the health. 
 These adjectives afford a good example of the manner 
 in which generical adjectives are divided into nume- 
 rous sub-species, without the inconvenience of new 
 names, by the aid of the prepositions : thus, hurtful, 
 which notes all kinds of hurtfulness, is made to note 
 
206 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 its various species, in the following manner : hurtful 
 to the health, hurtful to the eyes, hurtful to the 
 stomach, hurtful to the crops, hurtful to the reputa- 
 tion: all different species of hurtfulness, which might 
 be noted by adjectives severally appropriated to them. 
 
 There is nothing particular to be remarked of the 
 manner in which adjectives of plenty, or want, or 
 those signifying an affection of the mind, are con- 
 nected with the objects they connote, by prepositions; 
 we shall, therefore, proceed to shew the manner in 
 which verbs are connected with substantives, by their 
 means. 
 
 3, All verbs are adjectives, either active or passive, 
 put into a particular form, for the sake of a particular 
 connotation. All actions, saving those which begin 
 and end in the actor, have a reference to a patient, or 
 something acted on; and the being acted on; the pas- 
 sion as it is called ; has a reference to the actor. Ac- 
 tion, therefore, and passion, are relative terms, stand- 
 ing in the order of cause and effect; agent and patient, 
 are the names of the subjects of the action and the 
 passion, the cause and the effect. 
 
 Most actions are motions, or named by analogy to 
 motions. In applying terms denoting motion, there 
 is particular occasion for marking the t\^o points of 
 termination ; the point at which it began, and the 
 point at which it ended. This is effected by the 
 name of the two places, and a preposition. The con- 
 trivance will be sufficiently illustrated by an obvious 
 example: ''John travelled from London to Dover :"" 
 "Travelled," the name of the motion; London, the 
 point of commencement ; Dover, the point of termina- 
 tion : from, a word denoting commencement, connect- 
 
SECT. Vii.J PBEPOSITTONS. 207 
 
 ing London with travelled ; to, a word signifying 
 completion, connecting the word Dover, with the 
 word travelled. 
 
 Some verbs, which imply motion, have their main, 
 or only reference, to the point of its termination. 
 Thus, he stopped at Dover : he struck him on the 
 head : he stabbed him in the side. These prepositions, 
 whatever their precise import, which we shall not now 
 stop to inquire, mark, when thus applied to the name 
 of the place at which the respective motions termi- 
 nated, the connexion of the two names, that of the 
 motion, and that of its point of termination, 
 
 With respect to motions, we have occasion to mark, 
 not only the points of their commencement and ter- 
 mination, but also their direction. The direction of 
 a motion, by which we mean the position of the 
 moving body, at the several points of its course, can 
 only be marked by a reference to other bodies, whose 
 position is known. Thus, '^ He walked through the 
 field." The direction of the walk, or the position of 
 the walking man, at the several moments of it, is 
 marked by a reference to the field whose position is 
 known to me, and a word which means from side to 
 side. The expression, ^' It flew in a straight line," is 
 less full and particular iri its marking, but clear and 
 distinct, as far as it goes, by reference to a modifica- 
 tion of position ; namely, a line, with which I am 
 perfectly familiar. 
 
 In using verbs of action and passion, that is, words 
 which mark a certain cluster of ideas, we have occa- 
 sion to modify such clusters, by adding to, or 
 taking from them, not only ideas of Position, as 
 above, but various other ideas ; of which the idea of 
 
208 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 the Cause, or End, of the action, the idea of the In- 
 strument with which it was performed, and the idea 
 of the Manner of the performance, are among the 
 principal. "John worked;" to this, a mark of a 
 certain cluster of ideas, I want to make an addition, 
 that of the Cause or End of his working. That End 
 is. Bread. To mark this as the cause of his working, 
 it is not enough to set down the name bread ; I need 
 a mark to fix its connexion with the working, and the 
 kind of its connexion. I say, " John worked for 
 (cause) bread." " John was robbed for (cause of the 
 robbery) his money." The ideas of manner and 
 instrument are commonly annexed by one preposi- 
 tion; "John worked with (joining) diligence," the 
 manner ; " John worked with a spade," the same idea, 
 as "John with (joined) a spade worked;'* spade, the 
 instrument. "John worked by the job, worked by 
 the day ;" manner : " John worked by machinery," 
 the instrument. "He was killed with barbarity, 
 with a cudgel." 
 
 We say, done with hurry, or in a hurry, done in 
 haste. " In," which seems to mark a modification of 
 position, is here apphed to that which does not admit 
 of position. Hurry and haste seem in such expres- 
 sions to be personified ; to be things which surround 
 an action, and in the midst of which it is done. 
 
 We have compound names for many actions. Thus 
 w^emaysay, "he hurt John," or "he did hurt to 
 John," " he gave a lecture to John," or, " he lectured 
 John." The reason why a preposition is required 
 before the patient, in the case of the compound name 
 of the action, and not of the single name, is, that the 
 word which stands with respect to the verb in the 
 
SECT. VII.] PREPOSITIONS. 209 
 
 immediate relation of the recipient or patient of the 
 action, is not the man, but the thing done. Thus, in 
 the phrase, " he did hurt to John," it is not John 
 which is done, but hurt : in the phrase, " he gave a 
 lecture to John," it is not John who is given, but a 
 lecture. There are here as it were, two patients, 
 lecture, the primary, John, the secondary; juxta- 
 position marks the connexion of the primary ; but a 
 preposition is necessary, to mark that of the secondary. 
 The following phrases seem to admit of a similar 
 explanation. " He reminded him of his promise ;" 
 "he accused him of perjury ;" ''he deprived him of 
 his wife :" the secondary patients being ''promise," 
 " perjury," " wife." He reminded him of his 
 promise (hav(ed) his promise) ; the promise being the 
 thing had or conceived in the reminding : accused him 
 of perjury ; perjury being the thing had in the accusa- 
 tion, the matter of the accusation : deprived him of his 
 wife ; his wife being the matter of the deprivation ; 
 the thing hav(ed) in it.*^' 
 
 ^^ The ingenious speculations of Mr. Tooke did great 
 service to the cause of philology in England, by awakening 
 a very general interest in the subject. But his knowledge of 
 the cognate languages -was far too circumscribed to warrant 
 his sweeping inductions. In his day, in fact, the accesses had 
 not yet been opened up to this new mine, nor the right veins 
 struck that have since yielded such rich results. Accord- 
 ingly nearly all Tooke's derivations are now discredited, and 
 among others his account of prepositions. One or two English 
 prepositions, of comparatively recent formation, seem to be 
 formed from nouns ; as aTYiong Aug. Sslx. gemang or ongeniajig, 
 geniaiig meaning " mixture ;" and against, Ang. Sax. on-gegea 
 in which gegen, from its use in cognate dialects, appears to be 
 VOL. I. P 
 
210 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 a noun, though its primary meaning is not very clear. These 
 however still involve a preposition which has to be accounted 
 for. Between, ■^.g3.m, is by twain, "near two;" and except, 
 save, during were originally participles in the case abso- 
 lute ; " except this" was originally " this excepted/' Lat. hoc 
 excepto. But the simple prepositions in, of, by belong to the 
 radical elements of language, and are more independent qi 
 nouns and verbs than nouns and verbs are of them. Com- 
 parative philology, which did not exist in Tooke's days, has 
 shewn, that, besides predicative roots, as they are called — that is 
 syllables expressive of some action or property, such as *' to 
 go," "to eat/' "to be bright/' "to speak/' &c., which form the 
 bases of nouns, adjectives, and verbs — there was a class of roots 
 denoting simply relations in space^ that is, place or direction- 
 (here or this, there or that, up, down, away, &c.). It is easy 
 to see how the audible marks of such notions, at first, doubt- 
 lesSj vague enuugh, would be rendered precise and intelligible 
 by gesticulations ; or perhaps the gesticulations were the 
 original signs, and the words mere involuntary exclamations 
 accompanying them, and in time taking their place. These 
 syllables have been called local, demonstrative, or pronominal 
 roots, and play a most important part in la.nguage. They are 
 joined to other roots to form derivatives of various kinds ; and 
 it is of them that the inflexional endings of nouns and verbs 
 are built up. Singly or in combination, they constitute the 
 pronouns, personal as well as demonstrative. Abstract as are 
 now the meanings of /, he, they were once patent to the 
 senses ; ma was an emphatic " here," calling attention to the 
 speaker ; sa or ta, " there, that/' something different from 
 both speaker and hearer. Most of the prepositions originated 
 in roots of this class. The roots of some of them, at leasf, are 
 identical with those of pronouns ; others express direction, and 
 thus imply motion. Thus up means, " (motion) from below 
 to above /' in the root FR (as in for, from), which is repre- 
 sented in Sans. Gr. and Lat. by PR (pro), the ground idea is, 
 motion or removal from the speaker, in the front direction. Of 
 is the Gothic af Old Ger. aba or apa. Sans, apa, Gr. airb 
 
SECT. VII. J PREPOSITIONS. 211 
 
 Lat. a or ah. It is not easy to determine the precise physical 
 relation primarily expressed by this particle ; probably "pro- 
 ceeding from/' or " descending or depending from." If there 
 is any connection between of and have, it is more likely that 
 have is derived from of than the reverse. That not a few 
 verbs have this kind of origin, is now recognised ; the English 
 utter from out is a signal example. 
 
 The primary relations expressed by prepositions were always 
 physical or sensible ; but the transition to the abstruse mental 
 relations which they now serve to mark (cause instrumen- 
 tality, superiority, &c.) is, as a rule, sufficiently obvious. For 
 example, " issuing or proceeding from" passes insensibly into 
 " being part of," " belonging to," " in the possession of." — F, 
 
 P 2 
 
212 CONJUNCTIONS. [cHAP. IV. 
 
 SECTION VIIL 
 
 CONJUISCTIONS. 
 
 The Conjunctions are distinguished from the Pre- 
 positions, by connecting Predications ; while the Pre- 
 positions connect only Words. 
 
 There are seeming exceptions, however, to this 
 description, the nature of which ought to be under- 
 stood. They are all of one kind ; they all belong to 
 those cases of Predication, in which either the subject 
 or the predicate consists of enumerated particulars ; 
 and in which the Conjunction is em]3loyed to mark 
 the enumeration. Thus we say, '' Four, and four, 
 and two, are ten." Here the subject of the predica- 
 tion consists of three enumerated particulars, and the 
 conjunction seems to connect words, and not predica- 
 tions. In like manner, we say, " His bag was full of 
 hares, and pheasants, and partridges." In this last 
 case, the predicate is composed of enumerated parti- 
 culars. In these instances, the words called con- 
 junctions, appear to perform the business of preposi- 
 tions, in joining words ; and in fact, they may be 
 supplied by prepositions. Thus, instead of '' four, 
 and four, and two, are ten," we may say " four, with 
 four, with two, are ten :" and, in the same way, ''His 
 bag was full of hares, and pheasants, and partridges," 
 may be put " full of hares, with pheasants, with par- 
 tridges." And nothing can be more simple than such 
 a variety in the use of such words. 
 
SECT. VIII.] CONJUNCTION'S. 213 
 
 With Taesjisjoin; and means add.^' These are words 
 of the same kind, and the same import ; and nothing 
 but use has appropriated the one to the joining of 
 words rather than predications, the other to the join- 
 ing of predications rather than words. 
 
 Our object, however, on the present occasion, is 
 distinct, both from that of the grammarian, and that 
 of the etymologist. We have shewn, that a set of 
 marks are exceedingly useful to connect single words, 
 and by what contrivances this end is accomplished ; 
 it remains for us to shew, what use there is of marks 
 
 ^^ This is according to Tooke's etymology, who traces and 
 to an Ang. Sax. verb anan, to add. Unfortunately, Anglo- 
 Saxon scholars deny that there is such a verb. The nearest 
 to it is unnan^ which means, however, merely "to wish well to," 
 *' to favour," No satisfactory account has been given of and, 
 but the analogy of other conjunctions would connect it with 
 a demonstrative root. J. Grimm is inclined to consider it as 
 a nasalised form of the Lat. et ; which in its turn may be an 
 inversion of Greek r£, just as ac is of Kot. 
 
 All conjunctions are essentially adverbs, and derive their con- 
 nective power from their adverbial meaoing. This is well seen in 
 also, the radical meaning of which is " all (quite) in that (the 
 same) way." Most of the adverbs used as conj unci ions are obvi- 
 ously oblique cases of pronouns ; so, as, than, when, where, tum, 
 ubi, quam, quum. In Gothic, ja/i, (Old Ger. ja, Finnish j'a; of the 
 same origin as Eng. yes) takes the place of and, and means '*in 
 that or the same (manner)." The Gr. jcat and the Lat. que,"and," 
 are similarly oblique cases from the root ka, and equivalent to 
 "in which or that (manner)." The identity of manner or cir- 
 cumstance constitutes the mental bond. It is easy to see how 
 a preposition used adverbially and expressing proximity, dis- 
 tance, or other relative position, would connect predications or 
 ideas ; e.g. "After he had rested a little, he began again." — F. 
 
214 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 to connect Predications ; and by what contrivances 
 that object is attained. 
 
 The occasions for the use of naarks to connect Pre- 
 dications, seem to be of two kinds. 
 
 First, When two Predications are to be marked, as 
 following one another. 
 
 Secondly, When they are to be marked, as modified, 
 the one by the other. 
 
 1. Those of the first kind need but few words for 
 their explanation. 
 
 I may say, " Newton was a mathematician," 
 "Locke was a metaphysician," ''Milton was a poet." 
 So stated, these Predications do not mark any parti- 
 cular order in my thoughts. I desire, however, to 
 show, that the ideas thereby expressed, were proccwmte 
 parts of the train in my mind. The word and^ which 
 means add^ placed between every pair, affords the 
 requisite indication. 
 
 Like and^ the conjunction 7ior marks predications in 
 sequence. It differs from and only in uniting negative 
 predications. " The act is not honourable, nor is the 
 man honest." In this case, it is obvious that no?\ 
 whatever its origin, has the meaning of and not. The 
 predications then are two negative predications, the 
 sequence of which, is marked by the word and. 
 
 But^ though it has been otherwise classed, and 
 called adversative, is of the same kind, and simply 
 marks the sequence. Thus we say, " Catihne was a 
 brave man, but Catiline was a wicked man." The 
 meaning of but is scarcely different from that of and^ 
 addition being the fundamental idea signified by both 
 of them. The oppositum between the two predications 
 is signified by the predications themselves, not by the 
 
SECT. viii.J CONJUNCTIONS. 215 
 
 connective/' In fact, the sense would not be changed, 
 if we substituted and for but It is only because, in 
 use, but has been commonly confined to the sequence 
 of two opposing predications, that the word but is no 
 sooner expressed, than an opposing predication is anti- 
 cipated. This is a simple case of association. 
 
 2. It is not necessary for us to do more than exem- 
 plify the principal cases in which one Predication is 
 modified by another. 
 
 " The space is triangular, if it is bounded by three 
 straight lines." 
 
 ''The space is triangular, because it is bounded by 
 three straight lines." 
 
 ''The space is bounded by three straight fines, 
 therefore it is triangular." 
 
 In each of these three propositions, there are two 
 predications ; the one of which is dependent on the 
 other. The dependence is that of necessary conse- 
 quence. The triangularity is the consequence of 
 being bounded by three straight lines. 
 
 In order to have names for two Predications thus 
 related, we may call the one the conditioning, the other 
 the conditioned. In the above instances, "The space 
 is bounded by three straight lines," is the conditioning 
 
 ^^ This is not strictly correct. But is compounded of the 
 two prepositions or local particles by and out (Ang. Sax. bi 
 utan) ; and the force of it, in the example given in the text, 
 may be thus paraphrased : " Catiline was a brave man ; but 
 (by^ near or beside that fact, put another fact, which is outy 
 away, or different from it, namely) Catiline was a wicked 
 man." This is something more than a simple case of associa- 
 tion ; the opposition is expressed as well as the addition. — F. 
 
2L6 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 predication; ''The space is triangular/' is the con- 
 ditioned. 
 
 There are two states of the conditioning predica- 
 tion ; one, in which it is contingent ; another, in 
 which it is positive. Observe, now, the simple con- 
 trivance for marking the dependence of the con- 
 ditioned upon the conditioning predication, in all the 
 above cases. 
 
 In the first of the examples, "The space is tri- 
 angular, if\t is bounded by three straight lines," the 
 conditioning predication is contingent. The word if, 
 which is equivalent to give^^^ prefixed to the condition- 
 ing predication, mai-ks it both as the conditioning 
 predication, and as contingent. 
 
 In the second of the examples, '' The space is tri- 
 angular, because it is bounded by three straight lines," 
 the conditioning predication is positive ; the word 
 because (having the meaning of, cause be, or cause isY^ 
 prefixed to it, marks it as at once the conditioning 
 predication, and also positive. If foi- had been the 
 
 ^'* That if has no connection with give, is manifest from 
 the cognate forms; Goth, jabai^ Frisicjef, Ang. Sax. gif Old 
 Ger. ihUj Lettish ja^ all meaning primarily "in which or in 
 that case, or sapposition." ^' Jabai — from which the other 
 Germanic forms are descended — appears to have originally 
 been a dative or instrumental case of ja, analogous to 
 tubya = hsiim tibi : compare ibi, ubi, Gr. j3rp0£, Slavonic 
 tebje = tibi." — Garnett — F, 
 
 ^^ The syllable be, in " because," '' before/' &c., is the simple 
 preposition by, Sans, aohi, Gr. etti, "near," '' close to." There- 
 fore is Jar that ; in which yb?' is a preposition, meaning pri- 
 marily " position in front," and thence, by metaphor, the re- 
 lation of motive or cause. — F, 
 
SECT, viil.] CONJUNCTIONS. 217 
 
 mark instead of because, the artifice would have been 
 still the same, as /or has the meaning o^ cause. 
 
 In the third of the examples, '*' The space is bounded 
 by three straight lines, therefore it is triangular ;" the 
 order of the predications is inverted, the conditioning 
 being put first. In this case, therefore, we need a 
 mark to show that the last predication is conditioned, 
 and conditioned by the preceding. This is done by 
 prefixing to it the compound word, therefore, of which 
 the first part there is equivalent to that, and/or^ or for 
 means cause. The expression in its elementary form 
 being, " The space is bounded by three straight lines ; 
 for that, or cause that, the space is triangular." 
 
 In these cases we have examples of what are called, 
 the Suppositive, the Causal, and the Illative con- 
 junctions. 
 
 The following are examples of what are called the 
 Disjunctive. 
 
 "The ship was well manned; else it would have 
 been lost." 
 
 " Unless the ship had been weU manned, it would 
 have been lost." 
 
 In these two examples, the conditioning predica- 
 cations are, " The ship was well manned ;" " The ship 
 had been well manned :" the conditioned i^, "it would 
 have been lost,*' in both instances. 
 
 The dependence here, between the conditioning and 
 conditioned, is that of physical consequence. The 
 ship's not being lost, was the consequence of its being 
 well manned. The contrivance for marking this 
 dependence is akin to that which we have traced in 
 the former instance. 
 
 In the first of the two examples, the conditioning 
 
218 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 predication stands first. How do I mark that the 
 next is conditioned^ and conditioned as a physical con- 
 sequent ? I interpose the word else. This is part of 
 an obsolete verb, signifying, to dismiss, to turn out, to 
 take away!"^ And the sentence is thus resolved : 
 ''The ship was well manned," take away that (take 
 away the cause, the efiect is taken away also) **she 
 would have been lost." 
 
 Other conjunctions of the disjunctive kind, as they 
 are called, would here have answered the same purpose 
 with else. "The ship was well manned, otherwise, 
 she would have been lost." Otherwise here is precisely 
 of the same import as else. '' The ship was well 
 manned ;" that being dismissed, that being other than 
 it was ; '' it would have been lost." 
 
 '' The ship was well manned, or it would have been 
 lost." Or, in German oder, is other. The resolution 
 of this sentence, therefore, is the same as the 
 former. 
 
 In the second of the two examples, " Unless the ship 
 had been well manned, it would have been Jost," the 
 contrivance is the same, with a mere change of position. 
 Unless, is a word of the same import, rather the same 
 word, as else. Unless is prefixed to the conditioning 
 predication, whereas else is suffixed ; and that is the 
 difference. ^^ The word except, which signifies take 
 
 ^^ Else is the genitive of an obsolete adjective, in Gothic 
 alls, corresponding to Lat. alius ; and is analogous with Lat. 
 alias. — F. 
 
 ^^ Unless is simply on less, corresponding to Fr. ^ moins^ 
 and is equivalent to if not. — F. 
 
SECT. VIII.J CONJUNCTIONS. 219 
 
 away^ may be substituted for unless. A peculiar 
 application of if {give) may here also be exemplified. 
 If with the negative, {if not,) has a similar significa- 
 tion with unless, except ; " 7/ the ship had not been 
 well manned, &c." 
 
 Let us now pass to another case. 
 
 ''Although the ship was well manned, it was lost/' 
 The two predications may change places, without 
 change of meaning. ''The ship was lost, although it 
 was well manned." 
 
 What (as above) was to be marked by else, unless, 
 if not, except, and so on, was the connexion between 
 a cause and its usual effect ; that is, the manning of 
 a ship, and the safety of the ship. What is to be 
 marked in this case is the want of connexion between 
 a cause and its usual effect. It is done by similar 
 means. 
 
 Although is part of an obsolete verb, to allow, to 
 grant.^^ The two predications are: "The ship was 
 well manned," ''The ship was lost." I want to mark 
 between my two predications not only a connexion, 
 that of the antecedence and consequence of the pre- 
 dicated events, but the existence of a consequent 
 differing from that by which the antecedent is usually 
 followed. Although, prefixed to the predication of the 
 antecedent event, gives notice of another predication, 
 that of the consequent, and of a consequent differing 
 from that by which the antecedent might have been 
 
 ^^ Although is a compound pronominal adverb resembling 
 Lat. tameUy and means " (the case being) quite thus 
 (yet)."— i?'. 
 
220 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 followed. : Grant such an antecedent, such and not 
 such was the consequent. 
 
 The same connection is marked by other conjunc- 
 tions. " The ship was well manned, nevertheless it 
 was lost." Nevertheless, means not less for that.^^ " Xot- 
 ivithstanding the ship was well manned, it was lost." 
 Notwithstanding, is, not being able to prevent, maugre, in 
 spite of. The resolution of the above sentences is 
 obvious. " The ship was well manned, yet it was 
 lost." Yet is the verb get, and has here the force of 
 although, grant "The ship was well manned, yet 
 (or got, that being got, had, granted) it was lost.""" 
 ''The ship was well manned, still, it was lost." Still 
 is part of an obsolete verb, to put, to fx^ to establish. 
 '' The ship was well manned, still (that put, that sup- 
 posed) it was lost." '' 
 
 A few more cases will exemplify all that is material 
 in the marking power of the conjunctions. 
 
 "We study, that, we may be learned." The con- 
 nexion here, again, is that of cause and effect. " We 
 study :" " We may be learned," are the two predica- 
 tions, between which the connexion in question is to 
 
 ^'^ Nevertheless means literally, "not less by (or for) that." 
 Id this compound the is not the article, but an adverb, in Ang. 
 Sax. thy, "by that much/' and corresponds to Lat. eo in the 
 expression eo minus. — F. 
 
 ^^ Yet is of pronominal origin like Gr. tn, Ger. jetzt, and 
 has no connection with the verb get. — F. 
 
 ^^ Still seems to be the adjective stilly quiet, used adver- 
 bially, and having the force of " undisturbed, uninterrupted by 
 thsit/'—F. 
 
SECT, vin.] CONJUNCTIONS. 221 
 
 be marked. The demonstrative pronoun performs the 
 service. ''We maybe learned, that\Ye study:" we 
 study ; v^^hat ? to be learned. 
 
 ''John is more learned than James is eloquent." 
 The conjunction here is a relative term, and consists 
 of the two words, more than. The two predications 
 are, "John is learned," "James is eloquent," The 
 connexion between them is, that they are the two 
 parts of a comparison turning upon the point of 
 greatness in degree. The two words more than, suffice 
 to mark that connexion. Than is but a mode of spell- 
 ing and pronouncincr that, which use has appropriated 
 to this particular case. "John is learned, more that 
 (that being the more, the other of course is the less), 
 James is eloquent. "^^ 
 
 As, obsolete as a pronoun, only exists as a con- 
 junction. It is a word of the same import with that. 
 The following will suffice in exemplification of the 
 marking property which it retains. " Virgil was as 
 great a poet as Cicero an orator. " The two predica- 
 tions are, "Virgil was a great poet," "Cicero was a 
 great orator." They also are connected as the two 
 parts of a comparison, turning upon the point of 
 equality in degree. As^ or that, suffices to mark that 
 connexion. "Virgil was a great poet," that (namely 
 great) Cicero was an orator. We shall see afterwards, 
 in the composition of relative terms, that every such 
 term consistsof two words, orthesame word taken twice. 
 The conjunction here is a relative term^ and consists 
 
 '^'^ Than is only another form af then, and marks that the 
 one comes after the other, and is therefore inferior. — F. 
 
222 NAMING. [chap. IV. 
 
 of two words, namely, as, or that, taken twice. " Vir- 
 gil was a poet great, that that, an orator was Cicero ;" 
 the first that marking great as poet; the second that^ 
 marking great as orator?^ 
 
 ^^ As\s> an oblique case of the demonstrative root sa, and is 
 equivalent to " in this (degree) ;" and the nature of the con- 
 nection is this : Yirgil was a poet great in this degree ; Cicero 
 was an orator great in this degree ; that is, the degree of great- 
 ness was the same ia both, — F, 
 
CHAP. V.J COiSrSCIOUSNESS. 223 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 " It is not easy for the miud to put off those confused notions 
 and prejudices it has imbibed from custom, inadvertency, and 
 common conversation. It requires pains and assiduity to ex- 
 amine its ideas, till it resolves them into those clear and distinct 
 simple ones out of which they are compounded ; and to see 
 which, amongst its simple ones, have or have not a necessary 
 connexion and dependence one upon another. Till a man doth 
 this in the primary and original notions of things, he builds upon 
 floating and uncertain principles, and will often find himself at a 
 loss." — Locke^ Hum. JInd. b. ii. c. 13. s. 28. 
 
 It will now be instructive to retrace our steps, to 
 look back upon the space we have passed, and con- 
 template the progress we have made toward our 
 journey's end. 
 
 We have become acquainted with the elementary- 
 feelings of our nature ; first, those derived immediately 
 from our bodies, whether by impressions made on the 
 surface of them, or unseen causes operating on them 
 within ; secondly, the feelings which, after the above 
 mentioned feelings have ceased, are capable of existing 
 as copies or representatives of them. 
 
 We have also observed the manner in which those 
 secondary Feelings, to which we have given the name 
 of IDEAS, flow, either into groups, or into trains. And 
 
224 CONSCIOUSNESS. [chap. v. 
 
 we have explored the system of contrivances, to which 
 mankind have had recourse, for marking those feel- 
 ings, and the trains of them ; so as either to fix the 
 knowledge of them for one's own use, or to make 
 commnnication of them to others. 
 
 In what has been thus already presented, it will be 
 seen that several expositions of considerable importance 
 are included. 
 
 Sensations, and Ideas, are both feelings. When 
 we have a sensation we feel, or have a feeling ; when 
 we have an idea we feel, or have a feeling. 
 
 Having a sensation, and having a feeling, are not 
 two things. The thing is one, the names only are 
 two. I am pricked by a pin. The sensation is one ; 
 but I may call it sensation, or a feeling, or a pain, as 
 I please. Now, when, having the sensation, I say I 
 feel the sensation, I only use a tautological expression : 
 the sensation is not one thing, the feeling another ; 
 the sensation is the feeling. When, instead of the 
 word feeling, I use the word conscious, I do exactly 
 the same thing, I merely use a tautological expression. 
 To say I feel a sensation, is merely to say I feel a 
 feehng ; which is an impropriety of speech. And to 
 say I am conscious of a feeling, is merely to say that 
 I feel it. To have a feeling is to be conscious ; and 
 to be conscious is to have a feeling. To be conscious 
 of the prick of the pin, is merely to have the sensa- 
 tion. And though I have these various modes of 
 naming my sensation, by saying, I feel the prick of a 
 pin, I feel the pain of a prick, I have the sensation of 
 a prick, I have the feeling of a prick, I am conscious 
 of the feeling ; the thing named in all these various 
 ways is one and the same. 
 
CHAP, v.] CONSCIOUSNESS. 225 
 
 The same explanation will easily be seen to apply- 
 to IDEAS. Though, at present, I have not the sensa- 
 tion, called the prick of a pin, I have a distinct idea 
 of it. The having an idea, and the not having it, are 
 distinguished by the existence or non-existence of a 
 certain feeling. To have an idea, and the feehng of 
 that idea, are not two things ; they are one and the 
 same thing. To feel an idea, and to be conscious of 
 that feehng, are not two things ; the feeling and the 
 consciousness are but two names for the same thing. 
 In the very word feeling all that is implied in the 
 word Consciousness is involved. 
 
 Those philosophers, therefore, who have spoken of 
 Consciousness as a feeling, distinct from all other feel- 
 ings, committed a mistake, and one, the evil conse- 
 quences of which have been most important ; for, by 
 combining a chimerical ingredient with the elements 
 of thought, they involved their inquiries in confusion 
 and mystery, from the very commencement. 
 
 It is easy to see what is the nature of the terms 
 CONSCIOUS, and consciousness, and what is the mark- 
 ing function which they are destined to perform. It 
 was of great importance, for the purpose of naming, 
 that we should not only have names to distinguish 
 the different classes of our feelings, but also a name 
 applicable equally to all those classes. This purpose 
 is answered by the concrete term Conscious ; and the 
 abstract of it, Consciousness. Thus, if we are in any 
 way sentient ; that is, have any of the feelings what- 
 soever of a living creature ; the word Conscious is 
 apphcable to the feeler, and Consciousness to the 
 feeling: that is to say, the words are generical marks^ 
 under which all the names of the subordinate classes 
 
 vol. I. Q 
 
226 CONSCIOUSNESS. [chap. v. 
 
 of the feelings of a sentient creature are included. 
 "When I smell a rose, I am conscious ; when I have 
 the idea of a fire, I am conscious ; when I remember, 
 I am conscious ; when I reason, and when I believe, 
 I am conscious ; but believing, and being conscious 
 of belief, are not two things, they are the same 
 thing ; though this same thing I can name, at one 
 time without the aid of the generical mark, while 
 at another time it suits me to employ the generical 
 mark.^' '' 
 
 7^ The mistake of Raid in raising Consciousness to a sepa- 
 rate faculty has been commented on by Brown, Hamilton, and 
 others. It must be allowed that to feel and to be conscious 
 are not two things but the same thing : that is to say, the use 
 of the term consciousness, whether in common life or in philo- 
 sophical discussion, does not point to knowing, and exclude 
 feeling. 
 
 Consciousness is the widest word in our vocabulary. By 
 common consent it embraces everything that "mind" embraces; 
 while one mode of extricating the great problem of Perception 
 from self contradictions, makes it mean more than mind strictly 
 means. We speak of the object-consciousness as our attitude 
 in being cognisant of the extended universe ; while our atti- 
 tude under feeling, and thought, we call subject-consciousness ^ 
 or mind. 
 
 The object- consciousness follows one set of laws, the laws 
 of matter and space, as propounded in Mathematics, Natural 
 Philosophy, and so on. The subject-consciousness follows a 
 different set of laws, such as the laws of pleasure and pain, and 
 the association of ideas, treated of in Psychology. We are 
 conscious objectively, in counting the stars, we are conscious 
 subjectively, in feeling oppressed by their number. 
 
 The subject-consciousness comprises all our feelino-s and 
 thoughts ; it enters into volition ; and it makes a part of sen- 
 sation, in which both attitudes are conjoined. This conscious- 
 
CHAP. V.J CONSCIOUSNESS. 227 
 
 ness may be faint and limited, or it may be intense and varie- 
 gated. We may be in a state of pleasure with little or nothing 
 of thought accompanying; we are still properly said to be 
 conscious or under consciousness. But we may add to the mere 
 fact of pleasure, the cognition of the state, as a state of pleasure, 
 and as a state belonging to us at the time. This is not the 
 same thing as before : it is something new superposed upon 
 the previous consciousness. When we take note of the fact 
 that we are pleased, we proceed beyond the bare experience of 
 the present pleasure, to an intellectual act of comparison, assi- 
 milation, or classification with past pleasures ; we probably in- 
 troduce the machinery of language to express ourselves as 
 pleased ; all this is so much extra consciousness. These 
 knowing operations are not involved in mere feeling ; we may 
 feel without them. Indeed, if the cognitive powers are brought 
 into very active exercise upon our feelings, as in the self- 
 dissection of the Psychologist, the feelings themselves are apt 
 to subside. 
 
 It is thus correct to draw a line between feeling, and know- 
 ing that we feel ; although there is great delicacy in the opera- 
 tion. It may be said, in one sense, that we cannot feel with- 
 out knowing that we feel, but the assertion is verging on error ; 
 for feeling may be accompanied with a minimum of cognitive 
 energy, or as good as none at all ; or it may be accompanied 
 with an express application of our knowing powers, which is 
 purely optional on our part, and even hostile to the full develop- 
 ment of the feeling as feeling, as pleasure or pain. 
 
 Reid wanted a name to express the act of scrutinizing or 
 examining the mind, and to correspond with such names as 
 Perception, Observation, for the study of the extended or ob- 
 ject universe. He used Consciousness for this purpose; a word 
 that had been probably more applied to our cognitive energies 
 than to our experience of mere feeling in its simplest manifes- 
 tation. It is not often that "consciousness" is employed as 
 the popular designation of states of feeling as such, states of 
 marked enjoyment or suffering. On the other hand, the word 
 is frequently made use of to designate the act of cognizing or 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 CONSCIOUSNESS. [chap. v. 
 
 thinking of our states of feeling ; for which, however, self- 
 consciousness is undoubtedly the more proper appellative. 
 
 Hamilton terms " consciousness" a " condition" of our feel- 
 ings and mental operations ; more correctly it is the operations 
 themselves ; the consciousness is not the condition of the feel- 
 ing, but the feeling itself. More material is the opinion, held 
 by Hamilton in common with most of the German philoso- 
 phers, that the foundation of all consciousness is knowing ; 
 that we feel, only as we know that we feel. He says, " It is 
 evident that every mental phenomenon is either an act of 
 knowledge, or only possible through an act of knowledge : for 
 consciousness is a knowledge — a phenomenon of cognition.'^ 
 ("Metaphysics," Lect, si.) Now although we may not be able 
 to rebut this singular assertion by pointing to a state of feel- 
 ing such as to entirely exclude knowledge, we may ask, do the 
 two properties, said to be thus implicated, rise and fall in 
 steady concomitance ; the more the knowledge, the greater the 
 feeling ? The answer must be negative. A favourite doctrine 
 of Hamilton, containing a certain amount of truth, affirms an 
 inverse ratio between knowing and feeling ; which it is diffi- 
 cult to reconcile with the present doctrine. A new distinction 
 must be laid down between the kind of knowing that consti- 
 tutes "feeling," and the kind of knowing that constitutes 
 " knowing" in the strict sense of knowledge. We may concede 
 to Hamilton that feeling must always be within reach of a 
 cognitive exertion, but it cannot be conceded that an actual 
 cognitive exertion is essential to the manifestation of the feel- 
 ing. Such exertion unless kept within narrow limits of in- 
 tensity cools down instead of promoting the emotional state. 
 
 The facts of the case appear to be best represented, by 
 allowing the state of Feeling to stand on its own independent 
 foundation as a mode of the subject-consciousness, or of mind. 
 There may, and almost always does, go along with it a certain 
 degree of cognitive effort. We can scarcely be under feeling, 
 without performing some function of an intellectual kind ; the 
 divisions of the mental energies do not imply that they can 
 exist in absolute separation. The act of discriminating the 
 
CHAP. V.J CONSCIOUSNESS. 229 
 
 degree of feeling, — of pronouncing a pleasure to be greater 
 than, or equal to, some other pleasure, — is properly an intel- 
 lectual^ or cognitive exercise ; but this discrimination does not 
 make the feeling. So a feeling cannot exist without impress- 
 ing the mtmorj in some degree, which is an intehectual func- 
 tion ; one may truly affirm that we do not feel unless, imme- 
 diately afterwards, we remember that we felt. It is an incident 
 or concomitant of feeling to leave an impression behind, but 
 this does not characterize or define the state of feeling. Being 
 an accompaniment or concomitant of an emotional excitement, 
 we may point to memory as a proof of its existence and a 
 criterion of its degree, but we should confuse all the boundaries 
 of mental phenomena, if we treated memory or retentiveness 
 otherwise than as an intellectual property, a property whose 
 sphere is intellect and not feeling. — B. 
 
 ^^ Those psychologists who think that being conscious of a 
 feeling is something different from merely having the feeling, 
 generally give the name Consciousness to the mental act by 
 which we refer the feeling to ourself ; or, in other words, regard 
 it in its relation to the series of many feelings, which consti- 
 tutes our sentient life. Many philosophers have thought that 
 this reference is necessarily involved in the fact of sensation : 
 we cannot, they think, have a feeling, without having the 
 knowledge awakened in us at the same moment, of a Self who 
 feels it. But of this as a primordial fact of our nature, it is 
 impossible to have direct evidence ; and a supposition may be 
 made which renders its truth at least questionable. Suppose 
 a being, gifted with sensation but devoid of memory ; whose 
 sensations follow one after another, but leave no trace of their 
 existence when they cease. Could this being have any know- 
 ledge or notion of a Self? Would he ever say to himself, / 
 feel ; this sensation is mine ? I think not. The notion of a 
 Self is, 1 apprehend, a consequence of Memory. There is no 
 meaning in the word Ego or I, unless the I of to-day is also 
 the I of yesterday ; a permanent element which abides through 
 a succession of feelings, and connects the feeling of each mo- 
 ment with the remembrance of previous feelings. We have, no 
 
230 CONSCIOUSNESS. [chap. V. 
 
 doubt, a considerable difficulty in believing that a sentient 
 being can exist without the consciousness of Itself. But this 
 difficulty arises from the irresistible association which we, who 
 possess Memory, form in our early infancy between every one 
 of our feelings and our remembrance of the entire series of 
 feehngs of which it forms a part, and consequently between 
 every one of our feelings and our Self. A slight correction, 
 therefore, seems requisite to the doctrine of the author laid 
 down in the present chapter. There is a mental process, over 
 and above the mere having a feeling, to which the word Con- 
 sciousness is sometimes, and it can hardly be said improperly, 
 applied, viz. the reference of the feeling to our Self. But this 
 process, though separable in thought from the actual feeling, 
 and in all probability not accompanying it in the beginning, 
 is, from a very early period of our existence, inseparably at- 
 tendant on it, though, like many other mental processes, it 
 often takes place too rapidly to be remembered at the next 
 instant. 
 
 Other thinkers, or perhaps the same thinkers on other occa- 
 sions, employ the word Consciousness as almost a synonyme 
 of Attention. We all know that we have a power, partly 
 voluntary, though often acting independently of our will, of 
 attending (as it is called) to a particular sensation or thought. 
 The essence of Attention is that the sensation or thought is, 
 as it were, magnified, or strengthened : it becomes more intense 
 as a whole, and at the same time more distinct and definite in 
 its various parts, like a visible object when a stronger light is 
 thrown upon it : while all other sensations or thoughts which 
 do or which might present themselves at the same moment are 
 blunted and dimmed, or altogether excluded. This heightening 
 of the feelmg we may call, if we please, heightening the con- 
 sciousness of the feeling ; and it may be said that we are made 
 more conscious of the feeling than we were before : but the 
 expression is scarcely correct, for we are not more conscious 
 of the feeling, but are conscious of more feeling. 
 
 In some cases we are even said to be, by an act of attention, 
 made conscious of a feehng of which we should otherwise have 
 
CHAP. V.J CONSCIOUSNESS. 231 
 
 been unconscious : and there is much difference of opinion as 
 to what it is which really occurs in this case. The point has 
 received some consideration in a former Note, but there may 
 be advantage in again recalling it to remembrance. It fre- 
 quently happens (examples of it are abundant in the Analysis) 
 that certain of our sensations, or certain parts of the series of 
 our thoughts, not being sufficiently pleasurable or painful to 
 compel attention, and there being no motive for attending to 
 them voluntarily, pass off without having been attended to ; 
 and, not having received that artificial intensification, they are 
 too slight and too fugitive to be remembered. We often have 
 evidence that these sensations or ideas have been in the mind ; 
 because, during their short passage, they have called up other 
 ideas by association. A good example is the case of reading 
 from a book, when we must have perceived and recognized the 
 visible letters and syllables, yet we retain a remembrance only 
 of the sense which they conveyed. In such cases many psy- 
 chologists think that the impressions have passed through the 
 mind without our being conscious of them. But to have 
 feelings unconsciously, to have had them without being aware, 
 is something like a contradiction. All we really know is that 
 we do not remember having had them ; whence we reasonably 
 conclude that if we had them, we did not attend to them ; and 
 this inattention to our feehno^s is what seems to be here meant 
 by being unconscious of them. Either we had the sensations 
 or other feelings without attending to them, and therefore 
 immediately forgot them, or we never, in reality, had them. 
 This last has been the opinion of some of the profoundest 
 psychologists. Even in cases in which it is certain that we 
 once had these feelings, and had them with a lively conscious- 
 ness (as of the letters and syllables when we were only learn 
 ing to read) yet when through numberless repetitions the 
 process has become so rapid that we no longer remember 
 having those visual sensations, these philosophers think that 
 they are elided, — that we cease to have them at all. The usual 
 impressions are made on our organs by the written characters, 
 and are transmitted to the brain, but these organic states, 
 
232 CONSCIOUSNESS. [chap. v. 
 
 they think, pass away without having had time to excite the sen- 
 sations corresponding to them, the chain of association being 
 kept up by the organic states without need of the sensations. 
 This was apparently the opinion of Hartley ; and is distinctly 
 that of Mr. Herbert Spencer. The conflicting suppositions 
 are both consistent with the known facts of our mental nature. 
 "Which of them is the true, our present knowledge does not, I 
 thinkj enable us to decide. 
 
 The author of the Analysis often insists on the important 
 doctrine that we have many feelings, both of the physical and 
 of the mental class, which, either because they are permanent 
 and unchangeable, or for the contrary reason, that they are 
 extremely fugitive and evanescent, and are at the same time 
 uninteresting to us except for the mental processes they origi- 
 nate, we form the habit of not attending to ; and this habit, 
 after a time, grows into an incapacity ; we become unable to 
 attend to them, even if we wish. In such cases we are usually 
 not aware that we have had the feelings ; yet the author seems 
 to be of opinion that we really have them. He says, for ex- 
 ample, in the section on Muscular Sensations (ch. i. sect, vii.) 
 *' We know that the air is continually pressing upon our 
 " bodies. But the sensation being continual, without any call 
 *' to attend to it, we lose from habit, the power of doing so. 
 " The sensation is as if it did not exist.'' Is it not the most 
 reasonable supposition that the sensation does not exist ; that 
 the necessary condition of sensation is change ; that an un- 
 changing sensation, instead of becoming latent, dwindles in 
 intensity, until it dies away, and ceases to be a sensation ? Mr. 
 Bain expresses this mental law by saying, that a necessary 
 condition of Consciousness is change ; that we are conscious 
 only of changes of state. I apprehend that change is necessary 
 to consciousness of feeling, only because it is necessary to 
 feeling : when there is no change, there is, not a permanent 
 feeling of which we are unconscious, but no feeling at all. 
 
 In the concluding chapter of Mr. Bain's great work, there is 
 an enumeration of the various senses in which the word Consci- 
 ousness is used. He finds them no fewer than thirteen. — Ed. 
 
CHAP. VI.] CONCEPTION. 233 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CONCEPTION. 
 
 " The geaeralizatioQs of language are already made for lis, 
 before we have ourselves begun to generalize ; and our mind 
 receives the abstract phrases without any definite analysis, almost 
 as readily as it receives and adopts the simple names of persons 
 and things. The separate co-existing phenomena, and the sepa- 
 rate sequences of a long succession of words, which it has been 
 found convenient to comprehend in a single word, are hence, 
 from the constant use of that single word, regarded by the mind 
 almost in the same manner, as if they were only one pheno- 
 menon, or one event." — Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and 
 Effect. By Thomas Brown, M.D. Note M, p. 567. 
 
 The philosophers, who erected consciousness into 
 what they called a Power of the mind, have bestowed 
 the same rank upon conception. 
 
 When we have a Sensation, we are not said, in the 
 ordinary use of the word, to Conceive. If burned 
 with the candle, I do not say, " I conceive the pain ;" 
 I do not say, if I smelt putrescence, that " I conceive 
 the stench." It even seems to be not without a sort 
 of impropriety, if the term is ever applied to mark a 
 simple Idea. We should not, in ordinary language, 
 say, ''I conceive red," "I conceive green." We say, 
 however, ''I conceive a horse," '' I conceive a tree," 
 " I conceive a ship ;" we say also, '' I conceive an 
 
234 COXCEPTION. [chap VI. 
 
 argument," " I conceive a plan." In these examples, 
 which may be taken as a sufficient specimen of the 
 manner in which the term Conception is used, we see 
 that it is applied exclusively to cases of the secondary 
 feehngs ; to the Idea, not the Sensation ; and to the 
 case of compound, not of single ideas. With this use, 
 the etymology of the word very accurately corresponds : 
 I conceive, that is, 1 take together, a horse ; that is, the 
 several ideas, combined under the name horse, and 
 constituting a compound idea. The term conception, 
 we have seen, applies not only to those combinations 
 of ideas, which we call the ideas of external objects, 
 but to those combinations which the mind makes for 
 its own purposes. 
 
 It thus appears, that the word conception is a 
 generical name, hke consciousness ; but less compre- 
 hensive. We call ourselves conscious, when we have 
 any sensation, or any idea. We say that we conceive, 
 only when we have some complex idea. It remains 
 to be inquired, whether by saying we conceive, or 
 have a conception, we mean any thing whatsoever 
 beside having an idea. 
 
 If I say, I have the idea of a horse, I can explain 
 distinctly what I mean. I have the ideas of the sen- 
 sations of sight, of touch, of hearing, of smelling, with 
 which the body and actions of a horse have impressed 
 me ; these ideas, all combined, and so closely, that 
 their existence appears simultaneous, and one. This 
 is my IDEA of a horse. If I say, I have a conception 
 of a horse, and am asked to explain what I mean, I 
 give the same account exactly, and I can give no 
 other. My conception of the horse, is merely my 
 taking together, ia one, the simple ideas of the sensa- 
 
CHAP. vi.J CONCEPTION. 235 
 
 tions which constitute my knowledge of the horse ; 
 and my idea of the horse is the same thing. 
 
 We may notice here, however, one of those curious 
 illusions, which the intimate associations of ideas 
 with words, so often, and sometimes so inconveniently, 
 occasion. The term " I conceive," has the form of an 
 active verb ; and with the form of an active verb the 
 IDEA OF ACTION is SO frequently conjoined, that we are 
 rarely able to separate them. By this means, the 
 idea of activeness is often mixed up with other ideas, 
 when it is wholly misplaced and illusive. I use the 
 same form of expression when I say, I dream ; as when 
 I say, I study, I argue, I imagine. In these cases the 
 idea of what I call activity is properly included : in 
 the expression I dream, it is not properly included ; 
 though the active form of the verb so invariably calls 
 up a certain idea of activity, and so strongly tends to 
 mix it with the other ideas, that in using the term, 
 '* I dream," we seem to consider ourselves .as, some- 
 how, agents. Even hi using the term, " I die," we 
 cannot escape the illusion ; though the ideas are so 
 highly incongruous. It would be obviously absurd 
 to affirm that we are less active when we say we have 
 an idea, than when we say we have a conception, yet 
 there is constantly a feehng, when we use the phrase 
 " I conceive," as if we were in some manner active ; 
 and no such feeling, when we use the phrase '' I have 
 an idea." The terms, therefore, the concrete ''con- 
 ceive," and its abstract ''conception," are somewhat 
 inconvenient, and rpisguiding, as they infuse into the 
 complex ideas to which they are applied, an ingredient 
 which does not belong to them. 
 
 The relation which the words, consciousness, and 
 
236 CONCEPTION. [chap. VI. 
 
 CONCEPTION, bear to one another, is now, therefore, 
 apparent. Consciousness is the more generical of the 
 two names. Conception is the name of a class in- 
 cluded under the name Consciousness. Consciousness 
 apphes to sensations, and to ideas, whether simple or 
 complex ; to all the feelings, whatsoever they may be, 
 of our sentient nature. Conception applies only to 
 ideas ; and to ideas, only in a state of combination. 
 It is a generical name including the several classes of 
 complex ideas. 
 
 76 
 
 ^^ The doctrine of this chapter is as just as it is admirably- 
 stated. A conceptioa is nothing whatever but a complex idea, 
 and to conceive is to have a complex idea. But as there must 
 always have been some cause why a second name is used when 
 there is already a first, there is generally some difference in 
 the occasions of their employment : and a recognition of this 
 difference is necessary to the completeness of the exposition. 
 It seems to me that conception and to conceive are phrases ap- 
 propriated to the case in which the thing conceived is supposed 
 to be something external to my own mind. I am not said to 
 conceive my own thoughts ; unless it be in the case of an inven- 
 tion, or mental creation ; and even then, to conceive it, means 
 to imagine it realized, so that it may be presented to myself or 
 others as an external object. To conceive something is to 
 understand what it is ; to adapt my complex idea to something 
 presented to me objectively. I am asked to conceive an iceberg : 
 it is not enough that I form to myself some complex idea ; it 
 must be a complex idea which shall really resemble an iceberg, 
 i.e., what is called an iceberg by other people. My complex 
 idea must be made up of the elements in my mind which cor- 
 respond to the elements making up the idea of an iceberg in 
 theirs. 
 
 This is connected with one of the most powerful and mis- 
 leading of the illusions of general language. The purposes of 
 general names would not be answered, unless the complex idea 
 
CHAP. Vi.J CONCEPTION. 237 
 
 connected with a general name in one person's mind were com- 
 posed of essentially the same elements as the idea connected 
 with it in the mind of another. There hence arises a natural 
 illusion, making us feel as if, instead of ideas as numerous as 
 minds, and merely resembling one another, there were one idea, 
 independent of individual minds, and to which it is the business 
 of each to learn to make his private idea correspond. This is 
 the Platonic doctrine of Ideas in all its purity : and as half 
 the speculative world are Platonists without knowing it, hence 
 it also is that in the writings of so many psychologists we read 
 of the conception or the concept of so and so ; as if there was a 
 concept of a thing or of a class of things, other than the ideas 
 in individual minds — a concept belonging to everybody, the 
 common inheritance of the human race, but independent of any 
 of the particular minds which conceive it. In reality, however, 
 this common concept is but the sum of the elements which it 
 is requisite for the purposes of discourse that people should 
 agree with one another in including in the complex idea which 
 they associate with a class name. As we shall presently see, 
 these are only a part, and often but a small part, of each 
 person's complex idea, but they are the part which it is neces- 
 sary should be the same in all. — Ud. 
 
238 IMAGINATION. [CHAP. vii. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 The IMAGINATION is another term, the explanation 
 of which will be found to be included in the exposi- 
 tions which have previously been given. 
 
 The phenomena classed under this title are ex- 
 plained, by modern Philosophers, on the principles of 
 Association. Their accounts of the mental process, 
 to which the name Imagination is applied, include 
 their explanation of the laws of Association, or the 
 manner in which ideas succeed one another in a train, 
 with little else, except remarks on the causes to which 
 diversity in the several kinds of Imagination may be 
 traced. 
 
 It is not to be overlooked that the term Imagina- 
 tion is here used in the sense which is given to it by 
 philosophers when they rank it as a particular power 
 of the mind ; for it is no doubt true, that it is often 
 used, in vulgar speech, as synonymous with Concep- 
 tion, and with Supposition, and with Conjecture; as 
 the verb, to imagine, is, with the verbs, to discover, 
 to suppose, conjecture, believe, and perhaps others. 
 
 We have seen that Consciousness, and Conception, 
 are names of feeUngs, taken one by one : Consciousness 
 
CHAP. VII.J IMAGI^TATION. 239 
 
 of any of our feelings so taken ; Conception of a parti- 
 cular class of them, namely, complex ideas. Imagina- 
 tion is not a name of any one idea. I am not said 
 to imagine, unless I combine ideas successively in a 
 less or greater number. An imagination, therefore, 
 is the name of a train, I am said to have an imagi- 
 nation when I have a train of ideas ; and when I am 
 said to imagine, I have the same thing ; nor is there 
 any train of ideas, to which the term imagination 
 may not be applied. 
 
 In this comprehensive meaning of the word Imagi- 
 nation, there is no man who has not Imagination, 
 and no man who has it not in an equal degree with 
 any other. Every man imagines, nay, is constantly, 
 and unavoidably, imagining. He cannot help ima- 
 gining. He can no more stop the current of his 
 ideas, than he can stop the current of his blood. 
 
 In the phrase we have just enj ployed, *' there is no 
 man who has not imagination," it is meant, that 
 there is no man who now has not, who has not always 
 had, and who will not always have a train of ideas. 
 Imagination, therefore, is a word connoting indefinite 
 time ; it is, to use the language of the Greek gramma- 
 rians, aoristical. When it connotes, which by the 
 strain of the passage it may be made to do, a par- 
 ticular time, it marks a particular train. When it 
 connotes time indefinitely, it marks trains indefinitely, 
 any train at any time. 
 
 The having or doing a thing at any time, means 
 the potentiaUty of having or doing it. Imagination, 
 then, has two meanings. It means either some one 
 train, or the potentiality of a train. These are two 
 meanings which it is very necessary not to f^onfound. 
 
240 IMAGINATION. [chap. VII. 
 
 There is great diversity of trains. Not only has 
 the same individual an endless variety of trains ; but 
 a different character belongs to the whole series of 
 trains which pass through the minds of different indi- 
 viduals or classes of individuals. The different pur- 
 suits in which the several classes of men are engaged, 
 render particular trains of ideas more common to 
 them than other trains. One man is a merchant ; and 
 trains respecting the goods in which he deals, the 
 markets in which he buys, and those in which he 
 sells, are habitual in his mind. Another man is a 
 lawyer, and ideas of chents, and fees, and judges, and 
 witnesses, and legal instruments, and points of contes- 
 tation, and the practice of his court, are habitually 
 passing in his mind. Ideas of another kind occupy 
 the mind of the physician ; of another kind still, the 
 mind of the warrior. The statesman is occupied with 
 a train different from that of any of the classes that 
 have been mentioned ; and one statesman with a very 
 different train from another, according as his mind is 
 running upon expedients which may serve the purpose 
 of the day, or arrangements which may secure the 
 happiness of the population from generation to gene- 
 ration. A pecuhar character belongs to the train 
 which habitually occupies the mind of the mathema- 
 tician. The mind of the metaphysician is also occu- 
 pied by a train distinguished from that of other 
 classes. And there is one man, yet to be mentioned, 
 the poet, the peculiarity of whose trains has been a 
 subject of particular observation. To such a degree, 
 indeed, have the trains of the poet been singled out 
 for distinction, that the word Imagination, in a more 
 restricted sense, is appropriated to them. We do not 
 
CHAP. VII.J IMAGINATION. 241 
 
 call the trains of the lawyer, or the trains of the mer- 
 chant, imagination. We do not speak of them as 
 imagining, when they are revolving, each, the ideas 
 which belong to his peculiar occupation ; it is only to 
 the poet, that the epithet of imagining is applied. 
 His trains, or trains analogous to his, are those which 
 receive the name of Imagination. 
 
 It is then a question, to which we should find an 
 answer, whether, in that by which the trains of the 
 poet differ from the trains of other men, there be any 
 thing which, being wholly absent from that by which 
 the trains of other classes are distinguished, lays a 
 foundation for this peculiarity of naming. 
 
 The trains of one class differ from those of another, 
 the trains of the merchant, for example, from those of 
 the lawyer, not in this, that the ideas follow one an- 
 other by any other law, in the mind of the one, and 
 the mind of the other ; they follow by the same laws 
 exactly ; and are equally composed of ideas, mixed 
 indeed with sensations, in the minds of both. The 
 difference consists in this, that the ideas which flow 
 in their minds, and compose their trains, are ideas of 
 different things. The ideas of the lawyer are ideas of 
 the legal provisions, forms, and distinctions, and of 
 the actions, bodily, and mental, about which he is con- 
 versant. The ideas of the merchant are equally ideas 
 of the objects and operations, about which he is con- 
 cerned, and the ends toward which his actions are 
 directed ; but the objects and operations themselves, 
 are remarkably different. The trains of poets, also, do 
 not differ from the trains of other men, but perfectly 
 agree with them, in this, that they are composed of 
 ideas, a ad that those ideas succeed one another, accord- 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
242 IMAGINATION. [cHAP. VII. 
 
 ing to the same laws, in their, and in other minds. 
 They are ideas, however, of very different things. 
 The ideas of the poet are ideas of all that is most 
 lovely and striking in the visible appearances of nature, 
 and of all that is most interesting in the actions and 
 affections of human beings. It thus, however, appears 
 most manifestly, that the trains of poets differ from 
 those of other men in no other way, than those of 
 other men differ from one another ; that they differ 
 from them by this only, that the ideas of which they 
 are composed, are ideas of different things. There is 
 also nothing surprising in this, that, being trains of 
 pleasurable ideas, they should have attracted a pecu- 
 har degree of attention ; and in an early age, when 
 poetry was the only hterature, should have been 
 thought worthy of a more particular naming, than 
 the trains of any other class. These reasons seem to 
 account for a sort of appropriation of the name Imagi- 
 nation, to the trains of the poet. An additional 
 reason may be seen in another circumstance, which 
 also affords an interesting illustration of a law of asso- 
 ciation already propounded ; namely, the obscuration 
 of the antecedent part of a train, which leads to a 
 subsequent, more interesting than itself In the case 
 of the lawyer, the train leads to a decision favourable 
 to the side which he advocates. The train has no- 
 thing pleasurable in itself The pleasure is aU derived 
 from the end. The same is the case with the mer- 
 chant. His trains are directed to a particular end. 
 And it is the end alone, which gives a value to the 
 train. The end of the metaphysical, and the end of 
 the mathematical inquirer, is the discovery of truth : 
 
CHAP. VII.J TMAGINATIOK. 243 
 
 their trains are directed to that object ; and are, or 
 are not, a source of pleasure, as that end is or is not 
 attained. But the case is perfectly different with the 
 poet. His train is its own end. It is all delightful, 
 or the purpose is frustrate. From the established laws 
 of association, this consequence unavoidably followed ; 
 that, in the case of the trains of those other classes, 
 the interest of which was concentrated in the end, 
 attention was withdrawn from the train by being fixed 
 upon the end ; that in the case of the poet, on the 
 other hand, the train itself being the only object, and 
 that pleasurable, the attention was wholly fixed upon 
 the train ; that hence the train of the poet was pro- 
 vided with a name ; that in the cases of the trains of 
 other men, where the end only was interesting, it was 
 thought enough that the end itself should be named, 
 the train was neglected. 
 
 In conformity with this observation, we find, that 
 wherever there is a train which leads to nothing be- 
 yond itself, and has any pretension to the character 
 of pleasurable (the various kinds of reverie, for ex- 
 ample), it is allowed the name of Imagination. Thus 
 we say that Rousseau indulged his imagination, when, 
 as he himself describes it, lying on his back, in his 
 boat, on the little lake of Bienne, he delivered himself 
 up for hours to trains, of which, he says, the pleasure 
 surpassed every other enjoyment. 
 
 Professor Dugald Stewart has given to the word 
 Imagination, a technical meaning ; without, as it ap- 
 pears to me, any corresponding advantage. He con- 
 fines it to the cases in which the mind forms new 
 combinations ; or, as he calls them, creations ; that is, 
 
 R 2 
 
244 IMAGINATION. [cHAP. VII. 
 
 to cases in which the ideas which compose the train 
 do not come together in the same combinations in 
 which sensations had ever been received. But this is 
 no specific difference. This happens, in every train 
 of any considerable length, whether directed to any 
 end, or not so directed. It is implied in every wish 
 of the child to fly, or to jump over the house ; in a 
 large proportion of all his playful expressions, as puss 
 in boots, a hog in armour, a monkey preaching, and 
 so on. It is manifested in perfection in every dream. 
 It is well known that, for the discovery of truths in 
 philosophy, there is a demand for new trains of 
 thought, multitudes of which pass in review before 
 the mind, are contemplated, and rejected, before the 
 happy combination is attained, in which the discovery 
 is involved. If imagination consists in bringing trains 
 before the mind mvolving a number of new combina- 
 tions, imagination is probably more the occupation of 
 the philosopher than of the poet. 
 
 Mr. Stewart appears not to have understood the 
 real distinction between the use of the words Concep- 
 tion, and Imagination ; that the one is the name of a 
 single idea, the other that of a train. He also in- 
 volves, without seeming to be whoUy aware of it, the 
 idea of a train destined to a particular end in the 
 meaning which he bestows on the word Imagination. 
 Imagination is with him, not the name of a train 
 having merely new combinations, but of a train hav- 
 ing new combinations, and those destined to some 
 end. But this' is not more the character of the trains 
 which belong to the painter and the poet, as his lan- 
 guage appears to imply, than it is of the lawyer, or 
 the metaphysician ; or, indeed, the professors of many 
 
CHAP. VTI.] IMAGINATION. 245 
 
 of the vulgar arts ; the tailor, for example, and the 
 inantua-maker. ^^ 
 
 '^'^ The foregoing analysis of the Imagination brings to 
 view some of the important points of distinction between it 
 and the other faculties ; for example, the circumstance that the 
 trains and constructions of the Imagination are their own ends, 
 and not a means to farther ends, as in the constructions of 
 science and of the industrial arts. All creative originality is 
 not imagination ; the steam-engine was not a product of this 
 faculty. 
 
 The main features that distinguish the Imagination seem to 
 be these three : — 
 
 1. It is a faculty of the Concrete, like Perception and 
 Memory, and not of the Abstract, as the scientific faculties. 
 When we imagine a thing, we picture it to the mind, as far as 
 we are able, in its full concrete reality. Our imagination of a 
 scene in the tropics is of the character of an actual perception ; 
 it embraces, or should embrace, whatever would strike the view 
 of any one surveying the reahty. 
 
 2. Imagination rises above Perception and Memory, in being 
 a Constructive faculty. It» alters, re-arranges, puts together 
 the materials of perception and memory to satisfy certain de- 
 mands of the mind. In this respect, it is more than Concep- 
 tion, which as viewed by the author, is also a faculty of the 
 concrete, but introduces no novelty of combination. Concep- 
 tion may involve a great constructive effort, as when we try to 
 picture to ourselves a poet's creation by the help of his lan- 
 guage ; nevertheless, the term imagination loses its charac 
 teristic force, and leaves an important meaning without a name, 
 if applied to this conceiving or realizing effort. The imagina- 
 tive stretch belongs to the poet or artist ; the power of con- 
 ceiving is what the reader of a poem brings into exercise. 
 
 3. Imagination is swayed by some presemt emotion. This 
 is another way of expressing the author's view that it is an end 
 in itself. If we were to use the general word " feeling,'' 
 we should encounter the difficulty of separating imagination. 
 
246 IMAGINATION. [cHAP. VII. 
 
 from common industry, which is all intended to gain pleasures 
 or ward off pains. 
 
 The brief designation "present emotion" approximates to, 
 but does not fully bring out, the precise operation of the feel- 
 ings in the constructions of Imagination. When, actuated by 
 the love of the marvellous, any one invents a fabulous story, 
 or highly exaggerates a real occurrence, the process is a typical 
 instance of the imaginative workings. 
 
 The Fine Arts are the domain of Imagination ; the one goes 
 far to specify the other. If the coincidence were exact, Ima- 
 gination would be defined by a definition of the -Esthetic emo- 
 tions. Now, although any original construction, selected and 
 put together to gratify an Esthetic emotion, is a work of Ima- 
 gination, yet imagination is not exhausted by fine art. The 
 picture that an angry man draws of his enemy would be called 
 an effort of imagination, but not a work of fine art. All our 
 emotions, — Wonder, Fear, Love, Anger, Vanity — determine the 
 constructions of the intellect, when called into active exercise ; 
 and for these constructions we have no other name but ima^i- 
 
 o 
 
 nation, whether they may, or may not give pleasure as works of 
 art. 
 
 Perhaps this exceptional region may be marked out by a 
 statement of the perverting influence, or bias, of the feelings 
 in matters of truth and falsehood, or in works of utility. 
 When the true and the useful, instead of being determined by 
 their own ends, or their proper criteria, are swayed by ex- 
 traneous emotions — giving birth to mythical or fictitious crea- 
 tions — we have the corrupting substitution of Imagination for 
 Reason in men's judgments and opinions. 
 
 Thus, Fear is a potent spur to Imagination ; its creations 
 may not be aesthetically agreeable, and therefore may not come 
 under the definition of Fine Art ; yet they are fairly to be de- 
 scribed as perverting the judgment of true and false. — B, 
 
CHAP. VIII.J CLASSIFICATION". 247 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CLASSIFICATION. 
 
 " Dans I'ordre historique, la pliilosophie transceadante a de- 
 vance la philosophie elementaire. II ne faut point s'en etonner ; 
 les grands problemes de la metaphysiqae et de la morale se pre- 
 sentent a rhomrae, dans I'enfaace meine de son intelligence, avec 
 una grandeur et une obscurite qni le seduisent et qui I'attirenfc. 
 L'homme, qui se sent fait poair connoitre, court d'abord a la verite 
 avec plus d'ardeur que de sagesse ; il cherche a deviner ce qu'il 
 ne pent comprendre, et se perd dans des conjectures absurdes 
 ou temeraires. Les theogonies et les cosmogouies sontanterieures 
 a la saiue physique, et I'esprit humain a passe a travers toutes 
 les agitations et les delires de la metaphysique transcendante 
 avant d'arriver a la psychologic." — Cousin^ Frag. Philos. p. 75. 
 
 The process by which we connect what we call the 
 objects of our senses, and also our ideas, into certain 
 aggregates called classes, is of too much importance 
 not to have attracted the attention of those who have 
 engaged in the study of mind. Yet it is doubtful, 
 whether metaphysicians have regarded classification 
 as an original power of the mind, or have allowed that 
 what is included under that name might be resolved 
 into simpler elements. The term Abstraction, I think, 
 they have generally taken as the name of a distinct, 
 and original, power, not susceptible of further analysis. 
 Butj in doing so^ it seems (for the language of writers 
 
248 CLASSIFICATION. [chap. VIII. 
 
 is too loose on this subject, to allow us the use of more 
 affirmative terms), they have restricted the name to 
 the power of forming such ideas as are represented by 
 the terms, hardness, softness, length, breadth, space, 
 and so on. And this operation they rather consider 
 as subservient to classification, than as that operation 
 itself The process, however, of grouping individuals 
 into classes, has been regarded as sufficiently mys- 
 terious. The nature of it has been the object of deep 
 curiosity ; and the erroneous opinions which were 
 entertained of it bewildered, for many ages, the most 
 eminent philosophers ; and enfeebled the human mind. 
 
 What (it was inquired) is that which is really done 
 by the mind, when it forms individuals into classes ; 
 separates such and such things fi^om others, and re- 
 gards them, under a certain idea of unity, as some- 
 thing by themselves ? Why is the segregation thought 
 of ? And for what end is it made ? These questions 
 all received answers ; but it was many ages before 
 they received an answer approaching the truth ; and 
 it is only nece^^-sary to read with care the writings of 
 Plato and of Aristotle, and of all philosophers, with 
 very few exceptions, from theirs to the present time, 
 to see, that a misunderstanding of the nature of Gene- 
 ral Terms is that which chiefly perplexed them in 
 their inquiries, and involved them in a confusion, 
 which was inextricable, so long as those terms were 
 unexplained. 
 
 The process in forming those classes was said to be 
 this. The Mind leaves out of its view this, and that^ 
 and the other thing, in which individuals differ from 
 one another ; and retaining only those in which they 
 all agree, it forms them into a class. But what is 
 
CHAP. VIII.J CLASSIFICATION. 249 
 
 this forming of a class ? What does it mean ? When 
 I form a material aggregate ; when I collect a library ; 
 when I build a house ; when I even raise a heap of 
 stones ; I move the things, whatever they may be, 
 and place them, either regularly or irregularly, in a 
 mass together. But when I form a class, I perform 
 no operation of this sort. I touch not, nor do I in 
 any way whatsoever act upon the individuals which I 
 class. The proceeding is all mental. Forming a 
 class of individuals, is a mode of regarding them. But 
 what is meant by a mode of regarding things ? This 
 is mysterious ; and is as mysteriously explained, when 
 it is said to be the taking into view the particulars 
 in which individuals agree. For what is thei-e, which 
 it is possible for the mind to take into view, in that 
 in which individuals agree ? Every colour is an indi- 
 vidual colour, every size is an individual size, every 
 shape is an individual shape. But things have no 
 individual colour m common, no individual shape in 
 common, no individual size in common ; that is to 
 say, they have neither shape, colour, nor size in com- 
 mon. What, then, is it which they have in common, 
 which the mind can take into view ? Those who 
 affirmed that it was something, could by no means 
 tell. They substituted words for things ; using vague 
 and mystical phrases, which, when examined, meant 
 nothing. Plato called it tSea, Aristotle, eISoc, both, 
 words taken from the verb to see ; intimating, some- 
 thing as it were seen, or viewed, as we call it. At 
 bottom, Aristotle's uSog, is the same with Plato s tSea, 
 though Aristotle makes a great affair of some very 
 trifling differences, which he creates and sets up be- 
 tween them. The Latins, translated both ISiaj and 
 
250 OLASSinCATIOK [chap. VIII. 
 
 ilBoc, by the same words, and were very much at a 
 loss for one to answer the purpose ; they used species, 
 derived in like manner from a verb to see, but which, 
 having other meanings, was ill adapted for a scientific 
 word ; they brought, therefore, another word in aid, 
 forma^the same with opa/ua, derived equally from a verb 
 signifying to see, which suited the purpose just as 
 imperfectly as species ; and as writers used both terms, 
 according as the one or the other appeared best to 
 correspond with their meaning, they thickened by this 
 means the confusion. 
 
 After a time, unfortunately a long time, it began 
 to be perceived, that what was thus represented as 
 the object of the mind in the formation of classes, 
 was chimerical and absurd ; when a set of inquirers 
 appeared, who denied the existence of all such objects, 
 affirmed that ideas were all individual, and that no- 
 thing was general but names. The question rose to 
 the dignity of a controversy ; and to the hateful vio- 
 lence of a religious controversy. They who affirmed 
 the existence of general ideas were called Realists, 
 they who denied their existence Nominalists. There 
 can be no doubt, that of the two the Nominalists ap- 
 proached, by far, the nearest to the truth ; and their 
 speculations tended strongly to remove from mental 
 science the confusion in which the total misapprehen- 
 sion of abstract terms had involved it. But the 
 clergy brought religion into the quarrel, and as usual 
 on the wrong side. Ptealism was preached as the 
 doctrine which alone was consistent with orthodoxy ; 
 the Nominalists were hunted down ; and persecution, 
 well knowing her object, clung to the books as well 
 as the men ; so that the books of the Nominalists, 
 
CHAP. VIII.J CLASSIFICATION. 251 
 
 though the art of printing tended strongly to preserve 
 them, were suppressed and destroyed, to such a de- 
 gree, that it is now exceedingly difficult to collect 
 them ; and not easy to obtain copies even of the most 
 remarkable. 
 
 The opinion, that the particulars in which the in- 
 dividuals 'of a class agree were distinct Objects of the 
 Mind, soon made them distinct existences ; they were 
 the Essence of things ; the Eternal Exemplars, ac- 
 cording to which individual things were made ; they 
 were called universals, and regarded as alone the 
 Objects of the Intellect. They were invariable, always 
 the same ; individuals, not the objects of intellect but 
 only the low objects of sense, were in perpetual flux, 
 and never, for any considerable period, the same. 
 Universals alone have Unity ; they alone were the 
 subject of science ; Individuals were innumerable, 
 every one different from another ; and cognoscible 
 only by the lower, the sensitive part of our nature. 
 
 Endless were the subtleties into which ingenious 
 men were misled, in the contemplation of those Fic- 
 tions ; and wonderful were the attributes which they 
 bestowed upon them. '*It is, then, on these perma- 
 nent Phantasms,'^ says Mr. Harris, copying the ancient 
 Philosophers, '' that the human mind first works, and 
 by an energy as spontaneous and familiar to its nature, 
 as the seeing of colour is familiar to the eye, it dis- 
 cerns at once what in many is one ; what in things 
 DISSIMILAR and dieeerent is similar and the same. 
 By this it comes to behold a kind of superior Objects ; 
 a new Race of Perceptions, more comprehensive than 
 those of sense ; a Race of Perceptions, each one of 
 which, may he found entire and whole in the separate in- 
 
252 CLASSIFICATION". [CHAP. VIII. 
 
 dividuals of an infinite and fleeting multitude, without 
 departing from the unity and permanence of its own 
 nature r^^ Here we have something sufficiently mys- 
 tical ; a thing which is, at once, one, and many ; 
 which is ONE, it seems, by its very nature, and yet 
 may exist, entire and whole, in the separate individuals 
 of an infinite multitude. This is a specimen of their 
 Doctrine ; a specimen of what they call the sublime 
 in Intellection. 
 
 But this is not all. For as, when we form a minor 
 class, as man, there is a certain one, the object of 
 intellect, complete in every individual ; many, there- 
 fore, and at the same time, one ; so when we form a 
 larger class, animal, there is a certain one, the object 
 of intellect, complete in every one of those individuals. 
 And when we go still higher, as to the grand class, 
 BODY, thei-e is always a one, the object of intellect, 
 complete in every one of those more numerous indi- 
 viduals. When we mount up to the very summit, 
 and embrace all things in one class, being, there is in 
 like manner a one, the object of intellect, complete in 
 every individual that exists. This is the grand one ; 
 the ONE pre-eminently. This is the one ; ro f f ; one- 
 ness ; ONE in the abstract. This was a conception 
 deemed truly sublime. The loftiest epithets were be- 
 stowed upon TO 'k.v, the ONE. It was divine ; it was 
 more than that ; for being not concrete, but abstract, 
 it was divinity. All things were contained in the 
 ONE ; and the one was in aU things. The one was 
 the source and principle of Being. It was immutable, 
 eternal. 
 
 * Hermes, b. iii. ch. 4. 
 
CHAP. VIII. j CLASSIFICATION". 253 
 
 These ones they also called by the names of Internal 
 Forms, and Intelligible Forms. Thus Harris : " Let us 
 suppose any man to look for the first time upon some 
 Work of Art ; as, for example, upon a Clock ; and, 
 having sufficiently viewed it, at length to depart. 
 Would he not retain, when absent, an Idea of what 
 he had seen 1 And what is it, to retain such Idea ? 
 It is to have a Form internal correspondent to the 
 EXTERNAL ; only with this difference, that the Internal 
 Form is devoid of the Matter ; the External is united 
 with ity being seen in the metal, the wood, and the 
 like. Now, if we suppose this Spectator to view many 
 such Machines, and not simply to view, but to consider 
 every part of them, so as to comprehend how those 
 parts all operate to one End, he might be then said 
 to possess a kind, of intelligible Form, by which he 
 would not only understand and know the clocks, which 
 he had seen already, but every Work, also, of Uke 
 Sort, which he might see hereafter J' 
 
 We might here remark upon the mystical jargon, 
 which is thus employed to obscure the simple fact, 
 that after a man has seen an individual of a particular 
 kind he has the idea of that individual ; and after he 
 has seen various individuals of the same kind, he has 
 ideas of the various individuals, and has them com- 
 bined by association. But we must hear Mr. Harris 
 a little further. 
 
 After telling us that there are two orders of these 
 im.mutahle intelligible Forms ; one belonging to the 
 Contemplator of objects, and subsequent to their 
 existence ; another belonging to the Maker of them, 
 being the archetype, according to which they were 
 formed ; he thus proceeds : " The whole visible 
 
254 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. viii. 
 
 WORLD, exhibits nothing more than so many passing 
 pictures of these immutable archetypes. Nay, 
 through these it attains even a Semblance of Immor- 
 tahty, and continues throughout ages to be specifi- 
 cally ONE, amid those infinite particular changes, 
 that befall it every moment. May we be allov^ed 
 then to credit those speculative men, who tell us, it is 
 in these permanent and comprehensive Forms that the 
 Id'EiTY viev's at once, without looking abroad, all possible 
 productions both present^ past, and future ; that this great 
 and stupendous vieio is but a view of himself, where all 
 things lie eriveloped in their Principles and Exeinplars^ 
 as being essential to the fulness of this universal Intel- 
 lection .^" 
 
 I shall exhibit but one other specimen of the mode 
 of speculating about these imaginary Beings, from 
 another great master of the ancient philosophy, Cud- 
 worth. Both Aristotle and Plato, he says, " acknow- 
 ledged two sorts of Entities, the one mutable, or subject 
 to flux and motion, such as are especially individual 
 corporeal things ; the other immutable, that always 
 rest or stand still, which are the proper objects of 
 certain, constant, and immutable knowledge, that 
 therefore cannot be mere nothings, non-entities. 
 
 '' Wliich latter kind of being, that is, the immu- 
 table essence, as a distinct thing from individual sensi- 
 bles, Aristotle plainly asserts against Heraclitus, and 
 those other flowing philosophers in these words : ' We 
 would have these philosophers to know, that besides 
 sensible things that are always mutable, there is 
 another kind of being or entity of such things as are 
 neither subject to motion, corruption, nor generation.' 
 And elsewhere he tells us, that this immovable essence 
 
CHAP. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 255 
 
 is tlie object of theoretical knowledge, of the first 
 philosophy, and of the pure mathematics. 
 
 " Now these immutable entities are the universal 
 rationes, or intelligible natures and essences of all 
 things, which some compare to unities, but Aristotle 
 to numbers ; which formally considered, are indivi- 
 sible : saith he, ' The essences of things are like to 
 numbers ;' because if but the least thing be added to 
 any number, or subtracted fi^om it, the number is 
 destroyed. 
 
 '' And these are the objects of all certain knowledge. 
 As for example, the objects of geometry are not any 
 individual material triangles, squares, circles, pyra- 
 mids, cubes, spheres, and the hke ; which because they 
 are always mutable, nothing can be immutably affirmed 
 of them ; but they are those indivisible and unchange- 
 able rationes of a triangle, square, circle ; which are 
 ever the same to all geometricians, in all ages and 
 places, of which such immutable theorems as these 
 are demonstrated, as that a triangle has necessarily 
 three angles equal to two right angles. 
 
 " But if any one demand here, where tliis aKipr^ro^ 
 ovffta, these immutable entities do exist ? I answer, 
 first, that as they are considered formally, they do not 
 properly exist in the individuals without us, as if they 
 were from them imprinted upon the understanding, 
 which some have taken to be Aristotle's opinion ; be- 
 cause no individual material thing is either universal 
 or immutable. And if these things were only lodged 
 in the individual sensibles, then they would be un- 
 avoidably obnoxious to the fluctuating waves of the 
 same reciprocating Euripus, in which all individual 
 material things are perpetually whirled. But because 
 
256 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIII. 
 
 they perish not together with them, it is a certain 
 argument that they exist independently npon them. 
 Neither in the next place, do they exist somewhere 
 else apart from the individual sensibles, and without 
 the mind, which is that opinion that Aristotle justly 
 condemns, but either unjustly or unskilfully attributes 
 to Plato. For if the mind looked abroad for its objects 
 wholly without itself, then all its knowledge would be 
 nothing but sense and passion. For to know a thing 
 is nothing else but to comprehend it by some inward 
 ideas that are domestic to the mind, and actively ex- 
 erted from it. Wherefore these intelligible ideas or 
 essences of things, those forms by which we under- 
 stand all things, exist no where but in the mind itself; 
 for it was very well determined long ago by Socrates, 
 in Plato's Parmenides, that these things are nothing 
 but noemata : ^ these species or ideas are all of them 
 nothing but noemata^ or notions that exist no where 
 but in the soul itself Wherefore, to say that there 
 are immutable natures and essences, and rationes of 
 things, distinct from the individuals that exist with- 
 out us, is all one as if one should say, that there is in 
 the universe above the orb of matter and body, 
 another superior orb of intellectual being, that com- 
 prehends its own immediate objects, that is, the im- 
 mutable rationes and ideas of things within itself, 
 by which it understands and knows all things without 
 itself. 
 
 "And yet notwithstanding though these things 
 exist only in the mind, they are not therefore mere 
 figments of the understanding : for if the subjects of all 
 scientifical theorems were nothing but figments, then 
 all truth and knowledge that is built upon them would 
 
CHAP. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 257 
 
 be a mere fictitious thing ; and if truth itself, and the 
 intellectual nature be fictitious things, then what can 
 be real or solid in the world ? But it is evident, that 
 though the mind thinks of these things at pleasure, 
 yet they are not arbitrarily framed by the mind, but 
 have certain, determinate, and immutable natures 
 of their own, which are independent upon the mind, 
 and which are not blown away into nothing at the 
 pleasure of the same being that arbitrarily made 
 them. 
 
 "But we all naturally conceive that those things 
 have not only an eternal, but also a necessary exis- 
 tence, so that they could not ever but be, such and so 
 many as they are, and can never possibly perish or 
 cease to be, but are absolutely undestroyable. 
 
 " Which is a thing frequently acknowledged in the 
 writings of both those famous philosophers, Plato and 
 Aristotle. The former of them calling those things, 
 ^things that were never made, but always are,' and 
 ' things that were never made, nor can be destroyed.' 
 ' Things ingenerable and unperishable ;' Qace Plato 
 negat gigni sed semper esse (as TuUy expresseth it) et 
 ratione et inteUigentia contineri. And Philo the Pla- 
 tonical Jew, calls the ra Nor?ra, which are the same 
 things we speak of, avaytcaioTarai oiKTiat, the most neces- 
 sary essences, that is, such things as could not but be, 
 and cannot possibly not be. And Aristotle himself 
 calls the rationes of things in his metaphysics, not 
 onl7 yjj)pi(jra and aKivYira, things separate from matter 
 and immatable, but also ai^ia, or eternal ; and in his 
 ethics likewise, he calls geometrical truths a tSm, eternal 
 things, 1. 3, c. 5 ; ' where he makes the geometrical 
 truth concerning the incommensurability betwixt the 
 
 VOL. I. S 
 
258 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIIT. 
 
 diameter and the side of a square, to be an eternal 
 thing/ Elsewhere he tells us, that 'Science, pro- 
 perly so called, is not of things corruptible and con- 
 tingent,' but of things necessary, incorruptible and 
 eternal. Which immutable and eternal objects of 
 science, in the place before quoted, he described thus : 
 ' Such a kind of entity of things has neither motion 
 nor generation, nor corruption,' that is, such things 
 as were never made, and can never be destroyed. To 
 which, he saith, the mind is necessarily determined. 
 For science or knowledge has nothing either of fiction 
 or of arbitrariness in it, but is * the comprehension 
 of that which immutably is. ' 
 
 " Moreover, these things have a constant being, 
 when our particular created minds do not actually 
 think of them, and therefore they are immutable in 
 another sense likewise, not only because they are 
 indivisibly the same when we think of them, but also 
 because they have a constant and never-failing entity; 
 and always are, whether our particular minds think 
 of them or not. For the intelligible natures and 
 essences of a triangle, square, circle, pyramid, cube, 
 sphere, &c. , and all the necessary geometiical verities 
 belonging to these several figures, were not the crea- 
 tures of Archimedes, Euclid, or Pythagoras, or any 
 other inventors of Geometry ; nor did then first 
 begin to be ; but all these rationes and verities had a 
 real and actual entity before, and would continue still, 
 though all the geometricians in the world were quite 
 extinct, and no man knew them or thought of them. 
 Nay, though all the material world were quite swept 
 away, and also all particular created minds annihi- 
 lated together with it ; yet there is no doubt but the 
 
CHAP. VIII.J CLASSIFICATION. 259 
 
 intelligible natures or essences of all geometrical 
 figures, and the necessary verities belonging to them, 
 would notwithstanding remain safe and sound. Where- 
 fore these things had a being also before the material 
 world and all particular intellects were created. For 
 it is not at all conceivable, that ever there was a time 
 when there was no intelligible nature of a triangle, 
 nor any such thing cogitable at all, and when it was 
 not yet actually true that a triangle has three angles 
 equal to two right angles, but that these things were 
 afterward arbitrarily made and brought into being out 
 of an antecedent nothing or non-entity ; so that the 
 being of them bore some certain date, and had a 
 youngness in them, and so by the same reason might 
 wax old, and decay again ; which notion he often 
 harps upon, when he speaks of the '^EtS-n, or forms of 
 things, as when he says, ' there is no generation of 
 the essence of a sphere,' that is, it is a thing that is 
 not made ; but always is : and elsewhere he pro- 
 nounces universally of the ''EiSri, ' The forms of mate- 
 rial things are without generation and corruption/ 
 and ' that none makes the form of any thing, for it is 
 never generated.' Divers have censured Aristotle in 
 some of such passages too much to confound physics 
 and metaphysics together; for indeed these things 
 are not true in a physical, but only in a metaphysical 
 sense. That is, the immediate objects of intellection 
 and science, are eternal, necessarily existent, and 
 incorruptible. " ^ 
 
 Under the influence of such notions as these, men 
 
 * " A Treatise concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality. 
 By Ralph Cudworth, D.D."— pp. 241—250. 
 
 s 2 
 
260 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIII. 
 
 were led away from the real object of Classification ; 
 which remained, till a late period in metaphysical in- 
 quiry, not at all understood. Yet the truth appears 
 by no means difficult to find, if we only observe the 
 steps, by which the mind acquires its knowledge, 
 and the exigencies which give occasion to the contri- 
 vances to which it resorts. 
 
 Man first becomes acquainted with individuals. 
 He first names individuals. But individuals are in- 
 numerable, and he cannot have innumerable names. 
 He must make one name serve for many individuals. 
 It is thus obvious, and certain, that men were led to 
 class solely for the purpose of economizing in the use 
 of names. Could the processes of naming and dis- 
 course have been as conveniently managed by a name 
 for every individual, the names of classes, and the 
 idea of classification, would never have existed. But 
 as the limits of the human memory did not enable 
 men to retain beyond a very liratited number of 
 names ; and even if it had, as it would have required 
 a most inconvenient portion of time, to run over in 
 discourse, as many names of individuals, and of indi- 
 vidual qualities, as there is occasion to refer to in 
 discourse, it was necessary to have contrivances of 
 abridgment ; that is, to employ names which marked 
 equally a number of individuals, with all their sepa- 
 rate properties; and enabled us to speak of multitudes' 
 at once.^^ 
 
 ■^^ The doctrine that " men were led to class solely for the 
 purpose of economizing in the use of names," is here reasserted 
 in the most unqualified terms. The author plainly says that 
 if our memory had been sufficiently vast to contain a name 
 
CHAP. VIII.J CLASSIMCATION. 261 
 
 It was impossible that this process should not be 
 involved in obscurity, and liable to great misapprehen- 
 
 for every individual, the names of classes and the idea of 
 classification would never have existed. Yet how (I am obliged 
 to ask) could we have done without them ? We could not 
 have dispensed with names to mark the points in which different 
 individuals resemble one another : and these are class- 
 names. The fact that we require names for the purpose of 
 making affirmations — of predicating qualities — is in some 
 measure recognised by the author, when he says "it would have 
 required a most inconvenient portion of time to run over in 
 discourse as many names of individuals and of individual 
 qualities as there is occasion to refer to in discourse." But 
 what is meant by an individual quality ? It is not individual 
 qualities that we ever have occasion to predicate. It is true 
 that the qualities of an object are only the various ways in 
 which we or other minds are affected by it, and these affections 
 are not the same in different objects, except in the sense in 
 which the word same stands for exact similarity. But we 
 never have occasion to predicate of an object the individual and 
 instantaneous impressions which it produces in us. The only 
 meaning of predicating a quality at all, is to affirm a resem- 
 blance. When we ascribe a quality to an object, we intend 
 to assert that the object affects us in a manner similar to that 
 in which we are affected by a known class of objects. A 
 quality, indeed, in the custom of language, does not admit of 
 individuality : it is supposed to be one thing common to 
 many ; which, being explained, means that it is the name of a 
 resemblance among our sensations, and not a name of the 
 individual sensations which resemble. Qualities, therefore, 
 cannot be predicated without general -names ; nor, conse- 
 quently, without classification. Wherever there is a general 
 name there is a class : classification, aud general names, are 
 things exactly coextensive. It thus appears that, without 
 classification, language would not fulfil its most important 
 function. Had we no names but those of individuals, the 
 
262 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIII. 
 
 sion, so long as tlie manner, in which words become 
 significant, was unexplained. After this knowledge 
 was imparted, and pretty generally diffused, the value 
 of it seemed for a long time to be little understood. 
 
 Words become significant purely by association. 
 A word is pronounced in conjunction with an idea ; 
 it is pronounced again and again ; and, by degrees, 
 the idea and the word become so associated, that the 
 one can never occur without the other. To take first 
 the example of an individual object. The word, St. 
 Paul's, has been so often named in conjunction with 
 the idea of a particular building, that the word, St. 
 Paul's, never occurs without calling up the idea of the 
 building, nor the idea of the building without calling 
 up the name, St. Paul's. The effect of association is 
 similarly exemplified in connecting the visible mark 
 with the audible. Children learn first to speak. They 
 learn next to read. In learning to speak, they asso- 
 ciate the audible mark with their sensations and ideas; 
 the sound tree is associated with the sight of the 
 tree, or the idea of the tree. In learning to read, a 
 new association has to be formed. The written word 
 is a visible sign of the audible sign. What reading 
 accomplishes, by degrees, is, to associate the visible 
 sign so closely with the audible, that at the same in- 
 stant with the sight of the word the sound of it, and 
 with the sound of it the sense, occurs. 
 
 After the explanations which have been already 
 
 names might serve as marks to bring those individuals to 
 mind, but would not enable us to make a single assertion 
 respecting them, except that one individual is not another. 
 Not a particle of the knowledge we have of them could be ex- 
 pressed in words. — Ed. 
 
CHAP. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 263 
 
 given, no difficulty can remain about the manner in 
 "which name? come to signify the individuals of which 
 they are appointed to be the marks. 
 
 Let us now, proceeding to the simplest cases first, 
 and by them expounding such as are more complicated, 
 suppose that our name of one individual is apphed to 
 another individual. Let us suppose that the word, 
 foot, has been first associated in the mind of the child 
 with one foot only ; it will in that case call up the 
 idea of that one, and not of the other. Here is one 
 name, and one thing named. Suppose next, that the 
 same name, foot, begins to be applied to the child's 
 other foot. The sound is now associated not con- 
 stantly with one thing, but sometimes with one thing, 
 and sometimes with another. The consequence is, 
 that it calls up sometimes the one, and sometimes the 
 other. Here two things, the two feet, are both of 
 them associated with one thing, the name. The one 
 thing, the name, has the power of calhng up both, 
 and in rapid succession. The word foot suggests the 
 idea of one of the feet ; this foot with its name, is a 
 complex idea ; and this complex idea suggests its like, 
 the other foot with its name. 
 
 This is a peculiar and a highly important case of 
 association ; but not the less simple and indisputable. 
 We have already sufliciently exemplified the two grand 
 cases of the formation of complex ideas by association ; 
 — that in which the ideas of synchronous sensations 
 are so concreted by constant conjunction as to appear, 
 though numerous, only one ; of which the ideas of 
 sensible objects, a rose, a plough, a house, a ship, are 
 examples ; — and that in which the ideas of successive 
 sensations are so concreted ; of which^ the idea of a 
 
264 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAP. VIII. 
 
 tune in music, tlie idea of the revolution of a vp"lieel, 
 of a walk, a hunt, a horse-race, are instances. 
 
 It is easy to see v^herein the present case agrees 
 vnth., and wherein it differs from, those familiar cases. 
 The word, man, we shall say, is first applied to an 
 individual ; it is first associated with the idea of that 
 individual, and acquires the power of calling up the 
 idea of him; it is next applied to another individual, and 
 acquires the power of calling up the idea of him; so of 
 another, and another, till it has become associated with 
 an indefinite number, and has acquired the power of 
 calling up an indefinite number of those ideas indiffe- 
 rently. What happens ? It does call up an indefinite 
 number of the ideas of individuals, as often as it occurs; 
 and calling them up in close connexion, it forms them 
 into a species of complex idea. 
 
 There can be no difficulty in admitting that associa- 
 tion does form the ideas of an indefinite number of 
 individuals into one complex idea ; because it is an 
 acknowledged fact. Have we not the idea of an army? 
 And is not that precisely the ideas of an indefinite 
 number of men formed into one idea ? Have we not 
 the idea of a wood, or a forest ; and is not that the 
 idea of an indefinite number of trees formed into one 
 idea ? These are instances of the concretion of syn- 
 chronous ideas. Of the concretion of successive ideas 
 indefinite in number, the idea of a concert is one 
 instance, the idea of a discourse is another, the idea of 
 the life of a man is another, the idea of a year, or of a 
 centuiy, is another, and so on. The idea, which is 
 marked by the term "race of man," is complex in 
 both ways, for it is not only the idea of the present 
 generation, but of all successive generations. 
 
CHAP. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 265 
 
 It is also d. fact, that when an idea becomes to a 
 certain degree complex, from the multiplicity of the 
 ideas it comprehends, it is of necessity indistinct. 
 Thus the idea of a figure of one thousand sides is in- 
 curably indistinct ; the idea of an army is also indis- 
 tinct ; the idea of a forest, or the idea of a mob. And 
 one of the uses of language, is, to enable us, by 
 distinct marks, to speak with distinctness of those 
 combinations of ideas, which, in themselves, are too 
 numerous for distinctness. Thus, by our marks of 
 numbers, we can speak, with the most perfect preci- 
 sion, of a figure not only of a thousand, but of ten 
 thousand sides, and deduce its peculiar properties ; 
 though it is as impossible, by the idea, as by the 
 sensations, to distinguish one of a thousand, from one 
 of a thousand and one, sides. 
 
 Thus, when the word man calls up the ideas of an 
 indefinite number of individuals, not only of all those 
 to whom I have individually given the name, but of 
 all those to whom I have in imagination given it or 
 imagine it will ever be given, and forms all those ideas 
 into one, — it is evidently a very complex idea, and, 
 therefore, indistinct ; and this indistinctness has, 
 doubtless, been the main cause of the mystery, which 
 has appeared to belong to it. That this, however, is 
 the process, is an inevitable result of the laws of 
 association. 
 
 It thus appears, that the word, man, is not a woi'd 
 having a very simple idea, as was the opinion of the 
 Realists ; nor a word having no idea at all, as was 
 that of the Nominahsts ; but a word calling up an 
 indefinite number of ideas, by the irresistible laws 
 of association, and forming them into one very 
 
266 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAP. VIII. 
 
 complex, and indistinct, but not therefore unintelligible^ 
 idea. 
 
 It is thus to be seen, that appellatives, or general 
 names, are significant, in two modes. We have fre- 
 quently had occasion to recur to the mode in which 
 the simple ideas of sensation are associated or con- 
 creted, so as to form what we call the complex ideas 
 of objects. Thus, I have the complex ideas of this 
 pen, this desk, this room, this man, this handwriting. 
 The simple ideas, so concreted into a complex idea in 
 the case of each individual, are one thing signified by 
 each appellative ; and this complex idea of the in- 
 dividual, concreted witli another, and another of the 
 same kind, and so on without end, is the other of the 
 things which are signified by it. Thus, the word 
 rose, signifies, first of all, a certain odour, a certain 
 colour, a certain shape, a certain consistence, so asso- 
 ciated as to form one idea^ that of the individual; 
 next, it signifies this individual associated with 
 another, and another, and another, and so on; in 
 other words, it signifies the class. 
 
 The complexity of the idea, in the latter of the 
 two cases, is distinguished by a peculiarity from that 
 of the former. In applying the name to the odour, 
 and colour, and so on, of the rose, concreted into one 
 idea, the name is not the name of each of the sensa- 
 tions taken singly, only of all taken together. In 
 applying the name to rose, and rose, and rose, vdthout 
 end, the name is at once a name of each of the in- 
 dividuals, and also -the name of the complex associa- 
 tion which is formed of them. This too, is itself a 
 peculiar association. It is not the association of a 
 name with a number of particulars clustered together 
 
CHAP. vni.J CLASSIFICATION. 267 
 
 as one ; but the association of a name with each of 
 an indefinite number of particulars, and all those par- 
 ticulars associated back aerain with the name. 
 
 This peculiarity may require a little further expla- 
 nation. It is well known, that between an idea, and 
 the name which stands for it, there is a double asso- 
 ciation. The name calls up the idea in close associa- 
 tion, and the idea calls up the name in equally close 
 association ; and this they have a tendency to do in a 
 series of repetitions ; the name bringing up the idea, 
 the idea the name, and then the name the idea again, 
 and so on, for any number of times. This is, in great 
 part, the way in which language is learned, as we 
 observe by the repetitions to which children are 
 prone. And this, indeed, is what, in many cases, we 
 mean when we speak of dwelling upon an idea. It is 
 a familiar observation, that no idea dwells in the 
 mind, or can ; for it has innumerable associations, and 
 whatever association occurs, of course, displaces that 
 by which it is introduced. But if the idea which 
 thus displaces it, again calls it up, and these two go 
 on calhng up one another, that which is the more in- 
 teresting of the two appears to be that which alone is 
 occupying the attention. This alternation is frequent 
 between the name and the idea. 
 
 Now, then, let the word, man, be supposed, first of 
 all, the name of an individual ] it becomes associated 
 with the idea of the individual, and acquires the power 
 of calling up that idea. Let us next suppose it ap- 
 plied to one other individual, and no more : it becomes 
 associated with this other idea ; and it now has the 
 power of calling up either. The following is, then, a 
 very natural train : — 1, The name occurs ; 2, the name 
 
268 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. Vlil. 
 
 suggests the idea of one of the individuals; 3/ that 
 idea suggests the name back again ; 4, the name sug- 
 gests the idea of the second individual. All this may 
 pass, and, after sufficient repetition, does pass, with 
 the rapidity of lightning. Suppose, now, that the 
 name is associated, with the ideas not of two indivi- 
 duals, but of many ; the same train may go on ; the 
 name exciting the idea of one individual, that idea 
 the name, the name another individual, and so on, to 
 an indefinite extent ; all in that small portion of time 
 of which the mind takes no account. The combina- 
 tion thus formed stands in need of a name. And the 
 name, man, while it is the name of every individual 
 included in the process, is also the name of the whole 
 combination ; that is, of a very complex idea. 
 
 One other question, respecting classification, may 
 stUl seem to require solution ; namely, what it is by 
 which we are determined in placing such and such 
 things together in a class in preference to others ; 
 what, in other words, is the principle of Classification ? 
 I answer, that, as it is for the purpose of naming, of 
 naming with greater facility, that we form classes at 
 all ; so it is in furtherance of that same facility that 
 such and such things only are included in one class, 
 such and such in another. Experience teaches what 
 sort of grouping answers the purposes of naming 
 best ; under the suggestions of that experience, the 
 apphcation of a general word is tacitly and without 
 much of reflection regulated ; and by tliis process, and 
 no other, it is, that Classification is performed. It is 
 the aggregation of an indefinite number of individuals, 
 by their association with a particular name. 
 
 It may seem that this answer is still very general, 
 
CHAP. VIII.J CLASSIFICATION. 269 
 
 and that to make the explanation sufficient, the sug- 
 gestions by which experience recommends this or that 
 classification should be particularized. For the pur- 
 pose of the present chapter, however, namely, to shew 
 that the business of Classification is merely a process 
 of naming, and is all resolvable into association, the 
 observation, though general, is full and satisfactory. 
 The detail of the purposes to be answered by general 
 terms belongs more properly to the next head of Dis- 
 course, and as far as the development of the mental 
 phenomena seems to require it, will there be 
 presented. 
 
 It may still be useful to advert to the three princi- 
 pal cases into which Classification may be resolved ; 
 1, that of objects considered as synchronical ; 2, that 
 of objects considered as successive ; 3, that of feelings. 
 The first is exemplified in the common classes of 
 sensible objects, as men, horses, trees, and so on ; and 
 requires no further explanation. The second is ex- 
 emplified in the classes of events, denoted by such 
 words, as Birth, Death, Snowing, Thundering, Freez- 
 ing, Flying, Creeping. By these words there is 
 always denoted one antecedent and one consequent, 
 generally more, sometimes a long train of them. And 
 it is obvious that each of them is, at once, the name 
 of each instance individually, and of all taken generally 
 together. Thus, Freezing, is not the name of an 
 individual instance of freezing only, but of that and 
 of all other instances of Freezing. The same is the 
 case vdth other words of a still more general, and 
 th ence more obscure signification, as Gravitation, 
 Attraction, Motion, Force, &c. ; which words have 
 this additional source of confusion, that they are am- 
 
270 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. Viii. 
 
 bigaous, being both abstract and concrete. When we 
 say that there is a third case of classification, relating 
 to Feelings, it does not mean that the two former do 
 not relate to feelings : for when we say, that we classify 
 objects, as men, horses, &c. ; — or events, as the 
 sequences named births, deaths, and so on ; — it is 
 obvious that our operation is about our own feelings, 
 and nothing else ; as the objects, and their successions, 
 are, to us, thefeehngs merely which we thus designate. 
 But as there are feelings which we do thus desig- 
 nate ; and feelings which we do not ; it is convenient, 
 for the purpose of teaching, to treat of them apart. 
 The Feelings, of this latter kind, which we classify, 
 are either single feelings, or trains. Thus, Pain is the 
 name of a single feeling, and the name both of an 
 individual instance, and of indefinite instances, form- 
 ing a most extensive class. Memory is the name not 
 of a single feeling or idea, but of a train ; and it is the 
 name not only of a single instance, but of all instances 
 of such a train, that is, of a class. The same is the 
 case with Belief It is the name of a train consisting 
 of a certain number of links ; and it is the name not 
 only of an individual instance of such trains, but of all 
 instances, forming an extensive class. Imagination, 
 is another instance of the same sort of classification. 
 So also is Judgment, and Reasoning, and Doubting, 
 and we might name many more. 
 
 It is easy to see, among the principles of Associa- 
 tion, what particular principle it is, which is mainly 
 concerned in Classification, and by which w^e are ren- 
 dered capable of that mighty operation ; on which, as 
 its basis, the whole of our intellectual structure is 
 reared. That principle is Resemblance. It seems to 
 
CHAP. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 271 
 
 be similarity or resemblance which, when we have 
 applied a name to one individual, leads us to apply it 
 to another, and another, till the whole forms an 
 aggregate, connected together by the common rela- 
 tion of every part of the aggregate to one and the 
 same name. Similarity, or Kesemblance, we must 
 regard as an Idea familiar and sufficiently understood 
 for the illustration at present required. It will itself 
 be strictly analysed, at a subsequent part of this In- 
 quiry. 
 
 So deeply was the sagacious mind of Plato, far 
 more philosophical than that of any who succeeded 
 him, during many ages, struck with the importance 
 of Classification, that he seems to have regarded it as 
 the sum of all philosophy ; which he described, as 
 being the faculty of seeing ''the one in the many, 
 and the many in the one ;" a phrase which, when 
 stripped from the subtleties of the sophists whom he 
 exposed, and from the mystical visions of his suc- 
 cessors, of which he never dreamed, is really a. striking 
 expression of what in classification is the matter of 
 fact. His error lay, in misconceiving the one ; which 
 he took, not for the aggregate, but something per- 
 vading the aggregate.'^ ^'^ 
 
 79 The two chapters (VII. and VIII.) of Mr. James Mill's 
 Analysis are highly instructive, and exhibit all his customary- 
 force and perspicuity. But in respect to Classification and 
 Abstraction, I think that the ancient philosophers of the 
 Sokratic school generally, are entitled to more credit than he 
 allows them ; and moreover that in respect to the difference of 
 opinion between Plato and Aristotle, he has assigned an undue 
 superiority to the former at the expense of the latter. 
 
 The reader would take very inadequate measure of these 
 
272 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIII. 
 
 a-ncient philosophers, if he judged them from the two citations 
 out of Harris and Cudworth, produced by Mr. James Mill as 
 setting forth the most successful speculations of the ancient 
 "world. Both these passages are brought to illustrate '' the 
 mystical jargon" (p. 253) with which the ancients are said to 
 have obscured a clear and simple subject. The mysticism in 
 both citations is to a certain extent real ; but it depends also 
 in part on the use of a terminology now obsolete, rather than 
 on confusion of ideas. In regard to the citation from Harris, 
 it is a passage in which that author passes into theology, and 
 includes God and Immortality ; topics upon which mystical 
 language can seldom be avoided : moreover, if we compare the 
 remarks on Harris (p. 251) with p. 271, we shall find Mr. James 
 Mill ridiculing as mystical, when used by Harris, the same 
 language (about "the One in the Many") which, when employed 
 by Plato, he eulogises as follows — '' a phrase which, when 
 " stripped from the subtleties of the sophists whom he (Plato) 
 " exposed, and from the mystical visions of his successors, of 
 " which he never dreamed, is really a striking expression of 
 "■ what in classification is the matter of fact.'' 
 
 I wish I could concur with Mr. James Mill in exonerating 
 Plato from these mystical visions, and imputing them exclu- 
 sively to his successors. But 1 find them too manifestly pro- 
 claimed in the Timseus, PhEedon, Phsedrus, Symposion, 
 Eepublic, and other dialogues, to admit of such an acquittal : 
 I also find subtleties quite as perplexing as those of any sophist 
 whom he exposed. Along with these elements, the dialogues 
 undoubtedly present others entirely disparate, much sounder 
 and nobler. I have in another work endeavoured to render a 
 faithful account of the multifarious Platonic aggregate, stamped 
 in all its parts, — whether of negative dialectic, poetical fancy, 
 or ethical dogmatism, — with the unrivalled genius of expres- 
 sion belonging to the author. The misfortune is that his Neo- 
 Platonic successors selected by preference his dreams and 
 visions for their amplifying comment and eulogy, leaving 
 comparatively unnoticed the instructive lessons of philosophy 
 
CHAP. VIII.J CLASSIFICATION. 273 
 
 accompanying them. To this extent the Neo-Platonists fully 
 deserve the criticism here bestowed on them. 
 
 The long passage, extracted in the Analysis from Cudworth, 
 contains two grave mis-statements, respecting both Plato and 
 Aristotle ; which deserve the more attention because they seem 
 to have misled Mr. James Mill himself. Respecting TJniversals, 
 Cudworth, after saying that they do not exist in the individual 
 sensibles, proceeds as follows (p. 255-256) — 
 
 1. "Neither, in the next place, do they exist somewhere 
 " else apart from the individual sensibles, and without the 
 "mind : which is that opinion that Aristotle justly condemns, 
 "but either unjustly or unskilfully attributes to Plato. 
 
 2. " Wherefore these intelligible ideas or essences of things, 
 " those forms by which we understand all things, exist no- 
 " where but in the mind itself : for it was very well determined 
 " long ago by Socrates, in Plato's Parmenides, that these 
 " things are nothing but noemata : these species or ideas are 
 *' all of them nothing but noemata^ or notions that exist no- 
 " where but in the soul itself." 
 
 Now, neither of these assertions of Cudworth will be found 
 accurate : neither the " determination" which he ascribes to 
 the Platonic Sokrates — nor the censure of "unjust or unskilful" 
 which he attaches to Aristotle. It is indeed true that the 
 opinion here mentioned is enunciated by Sokrates in Plato's 
 Parmenides. But far from being given as a " determination," 
 it is enunciated only to be refuted and dropt.^ In that dia- 
 logue, Sokrates is introduced as a youthful and ardent aspirant 
 in philosophy, maintaining the genuine Platonic theory of 
 self-existent and separate Ideas. He finds himself unable to 
 repel several acute objections tendered against the theory by 
 the veteran Parmenides: he is driven from position to position : 
 and one among them, not more tenable than the rest, is the 
 suggestion cited by Cudworth. Yet Parmenides, though his 
 objections remain unanswered and though he alludes to others 
 
 ^ Plato Parmenid. p. 132, C, D. 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIII. 
 
 not specified, — concludes by declaring^ that nevertheless the 
 Platonic theory of Ideas cannot be abandoned : it must be 
 upheld as a postulate essential to the possibility of general 
 reasoning and philosophy. 
 
 Even in the Parmenides itself, therefore, where Plato accu- 
 mulates objections against the theory of separate and self- 
 existent Ideas, we still find him reiterating his adherence to 
 it. And when we turn to his other dialogues, Phsedrus, 
 Ph£edon,Symposion,Republic,Kraty]us,&c., we see that theory 
 so emphatically proclaimed and so largely illustrated, that I 
 wonder how Cudworth can blame Aristotle for imputing it to 
 him. 
 
 It is by Cudworth, probably, that Mr. James Mill has been 
 misled, when he says — p. 249 — " At bottom, Aristotle's dSog 
 "is the same as with Plato's Idia, though Aristotle makes a 
 "great affair of some very trifling differences, which he creates 
 "and sets up between them." — I have pointed out Cudworth's 
 mistake, and I maintain that the difference between Plato and 
 Aristotle on this subject was grave and material. The latter 
 denied, what the former affirmed, self-existence and substan- 
 tiality of the Universal Ideas, apart from and independent of 
 particulars. 
 
 Having cited with some comments the extracts from Cud- 
 worth and Harris, Mr. James Mill observes, ''Under the 
 "influence of such notions as these, men w^ere led away from 
 " the real -object of Classification, which remained, till a late 
 " period of metaphysical enquiry, not at all understood. Yet 
 " the truth appears by no means difficult to find, if we only 
 "observe the steps by which the mind acquires its knowledge, 
 " and the exigencies which give occasion to the contrivances 
 "to which it resorts" (p. 259). — He then proceeds, clearly 
 and forcibly, to announce his own theory of classification, in- 
 tended to dispel the mystery with which others have surrounded 
 
 *" Plato Parmenid. p. 135, B, C. 
 
 I have given an account of this acute but perplexing dialogue, 
 in the twenty-fifth chapter of ray work on Plato and the other 
 Companions of Sokrates. 
 
CHAP, VIII.J CLASSIFICATION. 275 
 
 it (p. 264). "The word rfian is first applied to an indi- 
 " vidual : it is first associated with the idea of that individual, 
 "and acquires the power of calling up the idea of him : it is 
 " next applied to another individual, and acquires the power 
 "of calling up the idea of him : so of another and another, 
 "till it has acquired the power of calling up an indefinite 
 "number of those ideas indifferently. What happens? It 
 " does call up an indefinite number of the ideas of individuals, 
 " as often as it occurs : and calling them up in close combi- 
 " nation, it forms them into a species of complex idea." 
 " It thus appears that the word man is not a word having 
 "a very simple idea, as was the opinion of the Realists: 
 "nor a word having no idea at all, as was that of the Nomi- 
 "nalists : but a word calling up an indefinite number of ideas, 
 "by the irresistible laws of association, and forming them into 
 " one very complex and indistinct, but not therefore unintelli- 
 "gible, idea" (p. 265). — "As it is for the purpose of naming, 
 "and of naming with greater facility, that we form classes at 
 " all ; so it is in furtherance of that same facility that such 
 " and such things only are included in one class, such and 
 "such things in another. Experience teaches us what sort of 
 " grouping answers this purpose best : under the suggestions 
 " of that experience, the application of a general word is 
 "tacitly and without much of reflection regulated: and by 
 " this process and no other, it is, that Classification is per- 
 " formed. It is the aggregation of an indefinite number of 
 "individuals, by their association with a particular name'' 
 (p. 268). — " It is Similarity or Resemblance, which, when we 
 "have applied a name to one individual, leads us to apply it 
 " to another and another — till the whole forms an aggregate, 
 "connected together by the common relation of the aggregate 
 "to one and the same name" (p. 271). 
 
 Such is the theory of Mr. James Mill. Its great peculiarity 
 is that it neither includes nor alludes to Abstraction. It 
 admits in Classification nothing more than the one common 
 name associated with an aggregate indefinite and indistinct, of 
 similar concrete individuals, I shall now consider the manner 
 
 T 2 
 
276 CLASSIFICATION. [CHAP. VIII. 
 
 in which the Greek philosophers of the fourth century B.C. 
 dealt with the same subject, and how far they merit the censure 
 of having imported unnecessary mystery into it. 
 
 It is impossible to understand Plato unless we take our 
 departure from his master Sokrates. Now it is precisely in 
 regard to Classification, and the meaning and comprehension 
 of general terms, that the originality and dialectical acuteness 
 of Sokrates were most conspicuously manifested. He was 
 the first philosopher (as Aristotle^ tells us) who set before 
 himself the Universal as an express object of investigation, — 
 and who applied himself to find out and test the definition of 
 universal terms. He wrote nothing ; but he passed most part 
 of his long life in public, and in talking indiscriminately with 
 every one. Oral colloquy, and cross-examining interrogation, 
 were carried by him to a pitch of excellence never equalled. 
 Not only did he disclaim all power of teaching, but he ex- 
 plicitly avowed his own ignorance ; professing to be a mere 
 seeker of truth from others who knew better, and to be anxious 
 only for answers such as would stand an accurate scrutiny. 
 To this peculiar scheme the topics on which he talked were 
 adapted : for he avoided all recondite themes, and discussed 
 only matters relating to man and society : such as What is the 
 Holy? What is the Unholy? What are the Beautiful and 
 the Mean — the Just and Unjust? Temperance? Madness? 
 Courage ? Cowardice ? A City ? A man fit for citizenship ? 
 Command of Men ? A man fit for commanding men ? Such 
 is the specimen-list given by Xenophon^ of the themes chosen 
 by Sokrates. We see that they are all general, and embodied 
 in universal terms. But the terms as well as the themes were 
 familiar to all: every man believed himself thoroughly to un- 
 derstand the meaning of the former — every one had convic- 
 tions ready-made and decided on the latter. When Sokrates 
 first opened the colloquy, respondents were surprised to be 
 questioned about such subjects, upon which they presumed 
 
 ^ Aristot. Mefcaphys. A. p. 987, b. I, M. p. 1078, b. 30. 
 ^ Xenophon, Memorab. L, 1 — 16. 
 
CHAP. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 277 
 
 that every one must know as well as themselves. But this 
 confidence speedily vanished when they came to be tested by 
 inductive*^ interrogatories : citation of appropriate particulars, 
 included or not included in the generalities which they laid 
 down. The result proved that they could not answer the 
 questions without speedily contradicting themselves : that they 
 did not understand the comprehension of their own universal 
 terms: and that upon all these matters, on which they talked 
 so confidently, they had never applied themselves deliberately 
 to learn, nor could they say how their judgments had been 
 acquired or certified.^ 
 
 The conviction formed in the mind of Sokrates, after long 
 persistence in such colloquial cross-examination, is consigned 
 in his defence before the Athenian judicature, pronounced a 
 month before his death. He declared that what he found 
 every where was real ignorance, combined with false persua- 
 sion of knowledge : that this was the chronic malady of the 
 human mind, which it had been his mission to expose : that 
 no man was willing to learn, because no man believed that he 
 stood in need of learning : that, accordingly, the first step in- 
 dispensable to all effective teaching, was to make the pupil a 
 williog learner, by disabusing his mind of the false persuasion 
 of knowledge, and by imparting to him the stimulus arising 
 from a painful consciousness of ignorance. 
 
 Such was the remarkable psychological scrutiny instituted 
 by Sokrates on his countrymen, and the verdict which it sug- 
 gested to him. I have already observed that liis great intel- 
 lectual bent was to ascertain the definition of general terms, 
 and to follow these out to a comprehensive and consistent 
 classification.^ It must be added that no man was ever less 
 inclined to mysticism than Sokrates : and that he was thus 
 
 ^ So Aristotle calls them — Xoyovg iTraKTinov^. — Metaph. M. 
 p. 1078, b. 28. 
 
 ^ Xenophon, Memorab. IV. 2—13—30—36. 
 
 '^ Xenophon, Memor. IV. 5, 12; IV. b. 1—7—10—15. (Lv 
 fVfijca cTKOTTwv (Tvv Toig (jvvovijiVj rt tKO'S'Ov ££») T(jjv bvTtov^ 
 oi/SfiVoTE iXriy^, 
 
278 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIII. 
 
 exempt from those misleading icfluences which (according to 
 Mr. James Mill, p. 260) "have led men away from the real 
 " object of Classification, and prevented them from understand- 
 *' ing it till a late period in metaphysical enquiry." Sokrates 
 did not come before his countrymen with classifications of his 
 own, originated or improved — nor did he teach them how the 
 process ought to be conducted. His purpose was, to test and 
 appreciate that Classification which he found ready-made and 
 current among them. He pronounced it to be worthless and 
 illusory. 
 
 Now I wish to point out that what Sokrates thus depreciated, 
 is exactly that which this Chapter of the Analysis lays before 
 us as Classification generally. I agree with the Analysis that 
 Classification, up to a certain point, grows out of the principle 
 of Association and the exigencies of the human mind, by steps 
 instructively set forth in that work. But such natural growth 
 reaches no higher standard than that which Sokrates tested and 
 found so lamentably deficient, even among a public of unusual 
 intelligence. It does not deserve the name of a " mighty 
 operation" (bestowed upon it by Mr. James Mill, p. 270). It 
 is a rudimentary procedure, indispensable as a basis on which 
 to build, and sufficing in the main for social communication, 
 when no science or reasoned truth is required : but failing 
 altogether to realise what has been understood by philosophers, 
 from Sokrates downward, as the true and full purpose of Classi- 
 fication. So long as the Class is conceived to be only what the 
 Analysis describes, an indistinct aggregate of resembling in- 
 dividuals denoted by the same name, without clearly under- 
 standincr wherein the resemblance consists, or what facts and 
 attributes are connoted by the name^ — (I use the word connote^ 
 
 ^ The necessity cf deterniining the comiotation of the Class- 
 term is distinctly put forward by Sokrates — Xenophou, Memorab. 
 HI. 14, 2. Xoytjj ovTog JTipl ovofxarwv, etp' on^ ^V*7w tKa'^ov 
 ££Tj — "E;^o(/U£v av {i<pr}) aTTttv, stti irotij^ wotI tjOytji avOptvirog 
 6-ip6(l>a'yog Ka)firaL ; &c., also the remarkable passage IV., 
 6. 13 — 15, Plato, Sophistes, p. 218 B. rouvo^a fxovov £;^o/i£v 
 KOIV^' TO Si tpyovj £^' tu KaXov/i£V, &c. 
 
CHA^. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 279 
 
 not in the sense of the Analysis, but in the sense of Mr. John 
 Stuart Mill) — so long will Classification continue to be, as 
 Sokrates entitled it, a large persuasion of knowledge with little 
 reality to sustain it. 
 
 I pass now from Sokrates to Plato. It is true, as we read 
 in the Analysis, (p. 271) that Plato '* was so deeply struck 
 '' with the importance of Classification, that he seems to have 
 "regarded it as the sum of all philosophy." But what Plato 
 thus admired was not the Classification that he found preva- 
 lent around him, such as this chapter of the Analysis depicts. 
 Here Plato perfectly agreed with Sokrates. Among his im- 
 mortal dialogues, several of the very best are devoted to the 
 illustration of the Sokratic point of view : to the cross-exami- 
 nation , and exposure of the minds around him, instructed as 
 well as vulgar, in respect to the general terms familiarly used 
 in speech. The Platonic questions and answers are framed 
 to shew how little the respondents understand beneath those 
 current generalities on which every one talks with confidence 
 and fluency— and how little they can avoid contradiction or in- 
 consistency, when their class-terms are confronted with parti- 
 culars. In fact, Plato goes so far as to intimate that these 
 uncertified classifications, — generated in each man's mind by 
 merely learning the application of words, and imbibed uncon- 
 sciously, without special teaching, through the contagion of 
 ordinary society — are rather worse than ignorance : inasmuch 
 as they are accompanied by a false persuasion of knowledge. 
 It would be (in the opinion of Plato) a comparative improve- 
 ment, if this state of mental confusion, creating a false persua- 
 sion of knowledge, were broken up ; and if there were substi- 
 tuted in place thereof positive ignorance, together with the 
 naked and painful consciousness of being really ignorant. 
 Only in this way could the mind of the learner be stimulated 
 to active effort in the acquisition of genuine knowledge.^ 
 
 . Accordingly, when it is said that Plato was " deeply struck 
 
 " Plato, Sophiates, p. 230—231. Symposiou, p. 204 A,Menon 
 p. 84, A. D. 
 
280 CLASSIFICATION. [chap. vili. 
 
 "with the importance of Classification/' we must understand 
 the phrase as applying to Classification, not as he found it 
 prevalent, but as he idealized it. And the scheme that he 
 imagined was not merely different from that which he found, 
 but in direct repugnance to it. He denounced altogether the 
 aggregate of individuals ; he declared the class-constituent to 
 reside in a reality apart from them, separate and self-existent 
 — the Idea or Form. He enjoined the student of philosophy 
 to fix his contemplation on these Class-Ideas, the real Eeaii- 
 tiesj in their own luminous region : and for that purpose, to 
 turn his back upon the phenomenal particulars, which were 
 mere transitory, shadowy, incoherent projections of these 
 Ideas^ — and from the study of which no true knowledge could 
 be obtained. Of the two stateaients in the Analysis — (p. 271) 
 that "Plato never dreamedof the mystical visions of his succes- 
 '* sors," — and that " his error (respecting Classification) lay in 
 " misconceiving the One ; which he took, not for the aggregate, 
 "but something pervading the aggregate" — neither one nor 
 the other appears to me accurate. In regard to the second of 
 the two, indeed, you may find various passages of Plato which, 
 if construed separately, would countenance it : for Plato does 
 not always talk ReaHsm — nor always consistently with him- 
 self. But still his capital and peculiar theory was, Realism. 
 The Platonic One was not something pervading the aggregate 
 of particulars, but an independent and immutable reality, 
 apart from the aggregate : and Plato, when he thus conceived 
 
 ^ This is what we read in the memorable simile of the Cave, 
 in Plato, Eepublic, VII. , p. 514—519. The language used 
 throughout this simile is wepiayeiv, irepiaKTiov, tr^piajwyrij &c. 
 He supposes that the natural state of man is to have his face 
 and vision towards the particular phenomena, and his back to- 
 wards the universal realities : the great problem is, how to make 
 the man face about, turn his back towards phenomena, and his 
 eyes towards Universals— ra ovra — to. voriTa. JS'othing can be 
 learnt from observation however accute, of the pheuomeua. The 
 same point is enforced with all the charm of Platonic expression 
 in Eepubl. Y. 478, 479, VL, 493, 494. Symposion, p. 210—211, 
 Phaedou, p. 74 — 75. 
 
CHAP. VIII. J CLASSIFICATION. 281 
 
 the One, illustrating it by the vast hypotheses embodied in the 
 Kepublic, Phsedon, Phsedrus, Symposion, Menon, &c., is the 
 true originator of those "mystical visions" against which the 
 Analysis justly protests. Such visions were doubtless sug- 
 gested to Plato by '* his deep sense of the importance of 
 Classification :" but they are his own, though continued and 
 amplified, without his decorative genius, by Neo-Platonic 
 successors. His theory of classification was the first ever 
 propounded ; and that theory was Realism. The doctrine here 
 ascribed to him by Mr. James Mill is much more Aristotelian 
 than Platonic. The main issue raised by Aristotle against Plato 
 was, upon the essential separation, and separate objective exist- 
 ence, of the Abstract and Universal : Plato affirmed it, Aristotle 
 denied it.^ Aristotle recognised no reality apart from the 
 Particular, towhich the Universal was attached as a predicate, 
 either essential or accidental to its subject. The Aristotelian 
 Universal may thus be called, in relation to a body of similar 
 particulars, not the aggregate but something pervading the 
 aggregate. But this is not Plato's view : it is the negation of 
 the Platonic Reafism. 
 
 When we read in the Analysis (p. 265) that " the word man 
 " is not a word having a very simple idea, as was the opinion 
 " of the Realists ; nor a word having no idea at all, as was that of 
 " the Nominalists" — this lancruasfe seems to me not well-chosen. 
 
 ^ According to Plato,'it is ro %v iraparairoWa. According to 
 Aristotle, it is %v Kara ttoXAwv — tv Koi to avro lin irXeiovijjv 
 jLLTf 6^ct)vvfj.ov tv £7ri TToXXwv. Analyt. Poster, I. 11, p. 77, a. 
 6. Metaphjs. I. 9, p. 990, b. 7—13. 
 
 Whoever reads the portions of Plato's dialogues indicated in 
 my last preceding foot note, will see how material this difference 
 is between the two philosophers. 
 
 In the remarkable passage of the Analyt. Post. I. 24, p. 85, 
 a. 30, b. 20, Aristotle notices the Plutonic hypothesis that the 
 Universal has real objective, separate, existence apart from its 
 particulars (ro KadoXov £^/ tl irapa ra KaO' f/coTa) as an illusion, 
 mischievous and misleading — frequent, but not unavoidable. 
 
 See the antithesis between Plato and Aristotle, on the subject 
 of Universals, more copiously explained in the recent work of 
 Professor Bain, Mental and Moral Science, Appendix, pp. 6—20. 
 
282 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIII. 
 
 As to the Realists — the Platonic Ideas are conceived as eternal, 
 immutable, grand, dignified, &c., but Aristotle^ contends that 
 they cannot all be simple : for the Idea of Man (e.g.) can 
 hardly be simple, when there exists distinct Ideas of Animal and 
 of Biped. As to the Nominalists — we cannot surely say that 
 they conceived the universal term as " having no idea at all/' 
 A doctrine something like this is ascribed (on no certain 
 testimony) to Stilpon, in the generation succeeding Aristotle : 
 the word Man (Stilpon is said to have affirmed'') did not 
 mean John more than William or Thomas or Rifihard, &c., 
 therefore it did not mean either one of them : therefore it had 
 no meaning at all. So also William of Ockhain is said to 
 have declared that Universal Terms were mere " flatus vocis :" 
 but this (as Prantl has shewn') was a phrase fastened upon 
 him by his opponents, not employed by himself. Still less 
 can it be admitted that Hobbes and Berkeley conceived the 
 Universal Term as *' having no idea at all." They denied 
 indeed Universal Ideas in the Realistic sense : they also 
 denied what Berkeley calls *' determinate abstract Ideas:" but 
 both of them explained (Berkeley especially) that the Universal 
 term meant, any particular idea, considered as representing or 
 standing for all other particular ideas of the same sort.*^ 
 Whether this be the best and most complete explanation or 
 not, it can hardly have been present to Mr. James Mill's mind, 
 when he said that the Universal term had no idea at all in the 
 opinion of the Nominalists. 
 
 There is one other remark to be made, respecting the view of 
 Classification presented in the eighth Chapter of the Analysis. 
 We read in the beginning of that Chapter — p. 249 — " Forming 
 " a class of things is a mode of regarding them. But what is 
 " meant by a mode of regarding things ? This is mysterious : 
 
 ^ Aristot. Metapbys. Z. 1039, a. 27, 1040, a. 23. 
 
 ^ See Grrote, Plato and the other Companions of Sokrates^ 
 Vol. III., ch. 38, p. 523. 
 
 ° Prantl, Gescliichte der Logik, YoL III., Sect. 19, p. 327. 
 
 ^ Berkeley, Principles of Human Knowledge, Introduction, 
 Sect. 12, 15, 16. 
 
CHAP. VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 283 
 
 "and is as mysteriously explained, when it is said to be the taking 
 " into view the particulars in which individuals agree. For what 
 '' is there which it is possible for the mind to take into view, in 
 *' that in which individuals agree? Every colour is an indi- 
 " vidual colour, every size is an individual size, every shape 
 "is an individual shape. But things have no individual 
 *' colour in common, no individual shape in common, no indi- 
 " vidual size iu common : that is to say, tkey have neither shape, 
 " colour, nor size in common. What then is it which they 
 " have in common which the mind can take into view ? Those 
 " who aflSrmed that it was something, could by no means tell. 
 " They substituted words for things : using vague and mystical 
 "phrases, which when examined meant nothing.'^ 
 
 Here we find certain phrases, often used both in common 
 speech and in philosophy, condemned as mystical and obscure. 
 In the next or ninth Chapter (on Abstraction, p. 295 seq.), we 
 shall see the language substituted for them, and the theory by 
 which the mystery is supposed to be removed. I cannot but 
 think that the theory of Mr. James Mill himself is open to quite 
 as many objections as that which he impugns. He finds fault 
 with those who affirm that the word cube or sphere is applied 
 to a great many different objects by reason of the shape which 
 they have in common ; and that they may be regarded so far 
 forth as cube or sphere. But surely this would not have been 
 considered as either incorrect or mysterious by any philoso- 
 pher, from Aristotle downward. When I am told that it is 
 incorrect, because the shape of each object is an individual 
 shape, I dissent from the reason given. In n^y judgment, the 
 term individual is a term applicable, properly and specially, 
 to a concrete object — to that which Aristotle would have 
 called a Hoc Aliquid. The term is not applicable to a quality 
 or attribute. The same quality that belongs to one object, 
 may also belong to an indefinite number of others. It is this 
 common quality that is connoted (m the sense of that word 
 employed by Mr. John Stuart Mill) by the class-term : and if 
 there were no common quality, the class-term would have no 
 connotation. In other words, there would be no class : nor 
 
284 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIII. 
 
 would it be correct to apply to any two objects the same con- 
 crete appellative nanae. 
 
 Bat when we come to the following Chapterof the Analysis 
 (ch. ix. on Abstraction, p. 296), we read as follows — "Let 
 " us suppose that we apply the adjective black first to the word 
 "Man. We say 'black man/ But we speedily see that /or 
 " t?te same reason for which we say black man, we may say 
 *' black horse, black cow, black coat, and so on. The word 
 "black is thus associated with innumerable modifications of 
 "the sensation black. By frequent repetition, and the gradual 
 "strengthening of the association, these modifications are at 
 "last called up in such rapid succession that they appear com- 
 " mingled, and no longer many ideas, but one. Black is there- 
 " fore no longer an individual, but a general name. It marks 
 " not the particular black of a particular individual, but the 
 " black of every individual and of all individuals." 
 
 To say that we apply the word black to the horse for the 
 same reason as we applied it to the man, is surely equivalent 
 to saying that the colour of the horse is the same as that of 
 the man : that blackness is the colour which they have in 
 common. It is quite true that we begin by applying the name 
 to one individual object, then apply it to another, and another, 
 &;c. ; but always for the same reason — to designate (or connote, 
 in the phraseology of Mr. John Stuart Mill) the same colour 
 in them all, and to denote the objects considered under one 
 and the same point of view. It may be that in fact there are 
 differences in shade of colour : but the class-name leaves these 
 out of sight. When we desire to call attention to them, we 
 employ other words in addition to it. Every attribute is con- 
 sidered and named as One, which is or may be common to 
 many individual objects : the objects only are individual. 
 
 It is to be regretted, I think, that Mr. James Mill discon- 
 nected Classification so pointedly from Abstraction, and in- 
 sisted on explaining the former without taking account of the 
 latter. Such disconnection is a novelty, as he himself states 
 (p. 294-) : previous expositors thought that " abstraction was 
 included in classification" — and, in my judgment, they were 
 
CHAP. viii.J CLASSIFICATION. 285 
 
 right in thinking so, if (with Mr. James Mill) we are to con- 
 sider Classification as a " great operation." An aggregate of 
 concretes is not sufficient to constitute a Class, in any scientific 
 sense, or as available in the march of reasoned truth. You 
 must have, besides, the peculiar mode of regarding the aggre- 
 gate : (a phrase which Mr. James Mill deprecates as mysterious, 
 but which it is difficult to exchange for any other words more 
 intelligible) you must have " that separating one or more of 
 " the ingredients of a complex idea from the rest, which has 
 ''received the name of Abstraction" — to repeat the very just ex- 
 planation given by him, p. 295— though that too, if we look 
 at p. 249, he seems to consider as tainted with mystery. 
 
 We proceed afterwards to some clear and good additional 
 remarks — p. 298. A class-term, as blacky "is associated 
 " with two distinguishable things, but with the one much more 
 " than with the other : — the clusters, with which it is asso- 
 " ciated, are variable : the peculiar sensation with which it is 
 " associated, is invariable. It is constantly, and therefore 
 " much more strongly, associated with the sensation, than 
 " with any of the clusters. It is at once a name of the clusters 
 " and a name of the sensation : but it is more peculiarly a 
 " name of the sensation." Again shortly afterwards, — the ab- 
 stract term is justly described as "marking exclusively one part 
 " (of the cluster), upon which such and such effects depend, 
 " no alteration being supposed in any other part of it."^ 
 
 This process of marking exclusively, and attending to, one 
 constant portion of a complex state of consciousness, amidst a 
 
 ^ The abstract term is coined for the express purpose of 
 marking one part of a cluster simultaneously present to the 
 mind, and fixing attention upon it without the other parts — but 
 the concrete term is often made to serve the same purpose, by 
 means of the adverb quatenus, KaQorrov, rj, &c. These phrases 
 are frequent both in Plato and Aristocle : the stock of abstract 
 terms was in their day comparatively small. It is needless to 
 multiply illustrations of that which pervades the compositions of 
 both : a very good one appears in Plato, Eepubl. L, p. 340 D, 
 341 C, 342. 
 
286 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIII. 
 
 great variety of variable adjuncts — is doubtless one funda- 
 mental characteristic in Abstraction and Classification. A 
 mystery was spread around it by Plato — first through his 
 ascribing to the Constant a separate self-existence, apart from 
 the Variables — still more by his hyperbolical predicates re- 
 spectingtheseself-existent transcendental Entia. Plato^ however 
 in other passages gives many just opinions, respecting Classi- 
 fication, which are no way founded on Realism, and are equally 
 admissible by Nominalists : and portions of Aristotle may be 
 indicated, which describe the process of abstraction as clearly 
 as any thing in Hobbes or Berkeley.^ 
 
 One farther remark may be made upon these two Chapters 
 of the Analysis. Mr. James Mill seems to take little or no 
 thought of Classification and Abstraction, except as performed 
 by Adjectives. But the adjective presupposes a substantive, 
 •which is alike an appellative ; and which has already performed 
 its duty in the way of abstracting and classifying. This fact 
 seems to be overlooked in the language of some sentences 
 iu the present Chapter : for example — " Some successions 
 " are found to depend upon the clusters called objects, all 
 " taken together. Thus a tree, a man, a stone, are the ante- 
 
 ^ The two Platonic dialogues, Sophistes and Politikus, (in 
 which processes of Classification are worked out,) give precepts, 
 for correct aud pertinent classification, not necessarily involving 
 the theory of Eealism,hut rather putting it out of sight ; though 
 in one special part of the Sophistes, the debate is made to turn 
 upon it. The main purpose of Plato is to fix upon some fact or 
 phenomenon, clear and appropriate, as the groundwork for dis- 
 tinguishing each class or sub-class — and to define thereby each 
 class-term (i.e., to determine its connotation, in the sense of Mr. 
 John Stuart Mill). Plato deprecates the mere following out of 
 resemblances as a most slippery proceeding (oXKrOripoTarov yivog 
 — Sophist. 231 A). The commonly received classes carry with 
 them in his opinion, no real knowledge, but only the false per- 
 suasion of knowledge : he wants to break them up and remodel 
 them. 
 
 ^ See especially Aristot. De Memoria et Keminiscentia, c. 1 
 p. 449, b. 13. De Senau et Sensili, c. 6, p. 445, b. 17.' De 
 Anima III, 8, p. 432, a. 9. 
 
CHAP. VTII.] CLASSIFICATION. 287 
 
 " cedents of certain consequents, as such : and not on account 
 " of any particular part of the cluster. Other consequents 
 '* depend not upon the whole cluster, but upon some particular 
 " part : thus a tall tree produces certain effects which a tree 
 " not tall cannot produce," &c. 
 
 I think that the phraseology of this passage is not quite 
 clear. " The whole cluster all taken together " is not a tree as 
 such — a man as such — a stone as such — but this particular 
 man, tree, or stone, as it stands : John, Thomas, Caius or 
 Titius, clothed with all his predicates, acting or suffering in 
 some given manner. When we speak of a man as such or 
 quatenus man — we do not include the whole cluster, but only 
 those attributes connoted (in Mr. John Stuart Mill's sense of 
 the word) by the name man : we speak of him as a member 
 of the class Man. What I wish to point out is — That Man is a 
 class- term, just as much as tall or short : only it is the name 
 of a larger class, while tall man is a smaller class under it. 
 The school-logicians did not consider substantives as connota- 
 tive, but only adjectives : Mr. James Mill has followed them 
 as to this extent of the word, though he has inverted their 
 meaning of it (see p. 299). Mr. John Stuart Mill, while de- 
 clining to adopt the same inversion, has enlarged the meaning 
 of the word connotative, so as to include appellative substan- 
 tives as well as adjectives. — 0. 
 
 ^^ Rejecting the notion that classes and classification would 
 not have existed but for the necessity of economizing names, 
 we may say that objects are formed into classes on account of 
 their resemblance. It is natural to think of like objects 
 together ; which is, indeed, one of the two fundamental laws 
 of association. But the resembling objects which are spon- 
 taneously thought of together, are those which resemble each 
 other obviously, in their superficial aspect. These are the only 
 classes which we should form unpremeditatedly, and without 
 the use of expedients. But there are other resemblances 
 which are not superficially obvious ; and many are not brought 
 to light except by long experience, or observation carefully 
 directed to the purpose ; being mostly resemblances in the 
 
288 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIII. 
 
 manner in which the objects act on, or are acted on by, other 
 things. These more recondite resemblances are often those 
 which are of greatest importance to our interests. It is im- 
 portant to us that we should think of those things together, 
 which agree in any particular that materially concerns us. 
 For this purpose, besides the classes which form themselves 
 in our minds spontaneously by the general law of association, 
 we form other classes artificially, that is, we take pains to 
 associate mentally together things which we wish to think of 
 together, but which are not sufficiently associated by the 
 spontaneous action of association by resemblance. The grand 
 instrument we employ in forming these artificial associations, 
 is general names. We give a common name to all the olDJects, 
 we associate each of the objects with the name, and by their 
 common association with the name they are knit together in 
 close association with one another. 
 
 But in what manner does the name effect this purpose, of 
 imiting into one complex class-idea all the objects which agree 
 with one another in certain definite particulars ? We effect 
 this by associating the name in a peculiarly strong and close 
 manner with those particulars. It is, of course, associated 
 with the objects also ; and the name seldom or never calls up 
 the ideas of the class-characteristics unaccompanied by any 
 other qualities of the objects. All our ideas are of individuals, 
 or of numbers of individuals, and are clothed with more or 
 fewer of the attributes which are peculiar to the individuals 
 thought of. Still, a class-name stands in a very different re- 
 lation to the definite resemblances which it is intended to 
 mark, from that in which it stands to the various accessory 
 circumstances which may form part of the image it calls up. 
 There are certain attributes common to the entire class, which 
 the class-name was either deliberately selected as a mark of, 
 or, at all events, which guide us in the application of it. 
 These attributes are the real meaning of the class-name — are 
 what we intend to ascribe to an object when we call it by that 
 name. W^ith these the association of the name is close and 
 strong : and the employment of the same name by different 
 
CHAP. VIII. 1 CLASSIFICATION. 289 
 
 persons, provided the^y employ it with a precise adherence to 
 the meaning, ensures that they shall all include these attri- 
 butes ia the complex idea which they associate with the name. 
 This is not the case with any of the other qualities of the 
 individual objects, even if they happen to be common to all 
 the objects, still less if they belong only to some of them. 
 The class-name calls up, in every mind that hears or uses it, 
 the idea of one or more individual objects, clothed more or 
 less copiously with other qualities than those marked by the 
 name ; but these other qualities may^ consistently with the 
 purposes for which the class is formed and the name given, 
 be different with different persons, and with the same person 
 at different times. What images of individual horses the word 
 horse shall call up, depends t)n such accidents as the person's 
 taste in horses, the particular horses he may happen to possess, 
 the descriptions he last read, or the casual peculiarities of the 
 horses he recently saw. In general, therefore, no very strong 
 or permanent association, and especially no association com- 
 mon to all who use the language, will be formed between 
 the word horse and any of the qualities of horses but those 
 expressly or tacitly recognised as the foundations of the 
 class. The complex ideas thus formed consisting of an 
 inner nucleus of definite elements always the same, im- 
 bedded in a generally much greater number of elements 
 indefinitely variable, are our ideas of classes ; the ideas con- 
 nected with general names ; what are called General Notions : 
 which are neither real objective entities, as the Realists 
 held, nor mere names, as supposed to be maintained by the 
 Nominalists, nor abstract ideas excluding all properties not 
 common to the class, such as Locke's famous Idea of a 
 triangle that is neither equilateral nor isosceles nor scalene. 
 We cannot represent to ourselves a triangle with no pro- 
 perties but those common to all triangles : but we may re- 
 present it to ourselves sometimes in one of those three forms, 
 sometimes in another, being aware all the while that all of 
 them are equally consistent with its being a triangle. 
 
 One important consequence of these considerations is, that 
 VOL. I. U 
 
290 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIII. 
 
 the meaning of a class-name is not the same thing with the 
 complex idea associated with it. The complex idea associated 
 with the name man, includes, in the mind of every one, innu- 
 merable simple ideas besides those which the name is intended 
 to mark, and in the absence of which it would not be predi- 
 cated. But this multitude of simple ideas which help to swell 
 the complex idea are infinitely variable, and never exactly 
 the same in any two persons, depending in each upon the 
 amount of his knowledge, and the nature, variety, and recent 
 date of his experience. They are therefore no part of the 
 meaning of the name. They are not the association common 
 to all, which it was intended to form, and which enables the 
 name to be used by all in the same manner, to be understood 
 in a common sense by all, and to serve, therefore, as a vehicle 
 for the communication, between one and another, of the same 
 thoughts. What does this, is the nucleus of more closely 
 associated ideas, which is the constant element in the 
 complex idea of the class, both in the same mind at different 
 times, and in different minds. 
 
 It is proper to add, that the class-name is not solely a mark 
 of the distinguishing class-attributes, it is a mark also of the 
 objects. The name man does not merely signify the qualities 
 of animal life, rationality, and the human form, it signifies all 
 individual men. It even signifies these in a more direct way 
 than it signifies the attributes, for it is predicated of the men, 
 but not predicated of the attributes ; just as the proper name 
 of an individual man is predicated of him. We say. This is a 
 man, just as we say, This is John Thompson: and if John 
 Thompson is the name of one man, Man is, in the same man- 
 ner, a name of all men. A class name, being thus a name of 
 the various objects composing the class, signifies two distinct 
 things, in two different modes of signification. It signifies the 
 individual objects which are the class, and it signifies the com- 
 mon attributes which constitute the class. It is predicated, 
 only of the obj ects ; but when predicated, it conveys the in- 
 formation that these objects possess those attributes. Every 
 concrete class-name is thus a connotative name. It marks 
 
CHAP. VUI.] CLASSIFICATION. 291 
 
 both the objects and their common attributes, or rather^ that 
 portion of their common attributes in virtue of which they 
 have been made into a class. It denotes the objects, and, in 
 a mode of speech lately revived from the old logicians, it 
 connotes the attributes. The author of the Analysis employs 
 the word connote in a different manner ; we shall presently 
 examine which of the two is best. 
 
 We are now ready to consider whether the author's account 
 of the ideas connected with General Names is a true and suffi- 
 cient one. It is best expressed in his own words. "The 
 " word Man, we shall say, is first applied to an individual ; 
 "it is first associated with the idea of that individual, and 
 " acquires the power of calling up the idea of him ; it is next 
 "applied to another individual, and acquires the power of 
 " calling up the idea of him ; so of another, and another, till 
 "it has become associated with an indefinite number, and has 
 "acquired the power of calling up an indefinite number of 
 " those ideas indifferently. What happens ? It does call up 
 " an indefinite number of the ideas of individuals, as often as it 
 " occurs, and calling them up in close connexion, it forms them 
 "into a species of complex idea. . . . When the word man 
 "calls up the ideas of an indefinite number of individuals, 
 "not only of all those to whom I have individually given the 
 "name, but of all those to whom I have in imagination given 
 "it, or imagine it will ever be given, and forms all those ideas 
 " into one, — it is evidently a very complex idea, and therefore 
 "indistinct; and this indistinctness has doubtless been the 
 " main cause of the mystery which has appeared to belong 
 " to it. That this however is the process, is an inevitable 
 " result of the laws of association." 
 
 In brief, my idea of a Man is a complex idea compounded of 
 the ideas of all the men I have ever known and of all those I 
 have ever imagined, knit together into a kind of unit by a close 
 association. 
 
 The author's description of the manner in which the class- 
 association begins to be formed, is true and instructive; but 
 does any one's idea of a man actually include all that the author 
 
 u 2 
 
292 CLASSIFICATION. [cHAP. VIII. 
 
 finds in it ? By an inevitable result of the laws of association, 
 it is impossible to form an idea of a man in the abstract ; the 
 class-attributes are always represented in the mind as part of 
 an image of an individual^ either remembered or imagined ; 
 this individual may vary from time to time, and several images 
 of individuals may present themselves either alternatively or in 
 succession : but is it necessary that the name should recal 
 images of all the men I ever knew or imagined, or even all of 
 whom I retain a remembrance ? In no person who has seen or 
 known many men, can this be the case. Apart from the ideas 
 of the common attributes, the other ideas whether of attributes 
 or of individual men, which enter into the complex idea, are 
 indefinitely variable not only in kind but in quantity. Some 
 people's complex idea of the class is extremely meagre, that of 
 others very ample. Sometimes we know a class only from its 
 definition, i.e. from an enumeration of its class-attributes, as in 
 the case of an object which we have only read of in scientific 
 books : in such a case the idea raised by the class-name will 
 not be limited to the class-attributes, for we are unable to 
 conceive any object otherwise than clothed with miscellaneous 
 attributes : but these, not being derived from experience of 
 the objects, may be such as the objects never had, nor could 
 have ; while nevertheless the class, and the class-name, answer 
 their proper purpose ; they cause us to group together all the 
 things possessing the class-attributes, and they inform us 
 that we may expect those attributes in anything of which that 
 name is predicated. 
 
 The defect, as it seems to me, of the view taken of General 
 Names in the text, is that it ignores this distinction between 
 the meaning of a general name, and the remainder of the idea 
 which the general name calls up. That remainder is uncer- 
 tain, variable, scanty in some cases, copious in others, and 
 connected with the name by a very slight tie of association, 
 continually overcome by counter-associations. The only part of 
 the complex idea that is permanent in the same mind, or common 
 to several minds, consists of the distinctive attributes marked 
 by the class-name. Nothing else is universally present, though 
 
CHAP, VIII.] CLASSIFICATION. 293 
 
 something else is always present : but whatever else be present, 
 it is through these only that the class-name does its work, and 
 effects the end of its existence. We need not therefore be 
 surprised that these attributes, being all that is of importance 
 in the complex idea, should for a long time have been supposed 
 to be all that is contained in it. The truest doctrine which 
 can be laid down on the subject seems to be this — that the idea 
 corresponding to a class-name is the idea of a certain constant 
 combination of class attributes, accompanied by a miscellaneous 
 and indefinitely variable collection of ideas of individual 
 objects belonging to the clasa — Ed. 
 
294 ABSTRACTION. [CHAP. IX. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ABSTRACTION. 
 
 " I think, too, that he (Mr. Locke) would have seen the ad- 
 vantage of * thoroughly weighing,' not only (as he says) ' the 
 imperfections of Language ;' but its perfections also : !For the per- 
 fections of Language, not properly understood, have been one of 
 the chief causes of the imperfections of our knowledge." — Diver* 
 eions of Furley^ ly John Home Toohe, A.M., i. 37. 
 
 The two cases of Consciousness, Classification, and 
 Abstraction^ have not, generally, been well dis- 
 tinguished. 
 
 According to the common accounts of Classification, 
 Abstraction was included in it. When it is said, 
 that, in order to classify, we leave out of view all the 
 cii'cumstances in which individuals differ, and retain 
 only those in which they agree ; this separating one 
 portion of what is contained in a complex idea, and 
 making it an object of consideration by itself, is the 
 process which is named Abstraction, at least a main 
 part of that process. 
 
 It is necessary now to inquire what are the purposes 
 to which this separating of the parts of a complex 
 idea, and considering and naming the separated parts 
 by themselves, is subservient. 
 
CHAP. IX. j ABSTRACTION. 295 
 
 We have already observed the following remarkable 
 things in the process of naming : 1, Assigning names 
 of those clusters of ideas called objects ; as man, fish ; 
 2, Generalizing those names, so as to make them re- 
 present a class ; 3, Framing adjectives by which minor 
 classes are cut out of larger. 
 
 Those adjectives are all names of some separate 
 portion of a cluster, and are, therefore, all instruments 
 of abstraction, or of that separating one or more of 
 the ingredients of a complex idea from the rest, which 
 has received the name of Abstraction. One purpose of 
 Abstraction, therefore, is the formation of those suh- 
 specieSy the formation of which is required for certain 
 purposes of speech. 
 
 These observations will be rendered familiar by 
 examples. We say, tall man, red flower, race horse. 
 In my complex idea of a man, or the cluster of ideas 
 of sense to which I affix that mark, are included, 
 certain ideas of colour, of figure, size, and so on. By 
 the word tall, I single out a portion of those ideas, 
 namely, the part relating to size, or rather size in one 
 direction, and mark the separation by the sign or 
 name. In my complex idea of a flower, colour is 
 always one of the ingredients. By applying the 
 adjective red, I single out this one from the rest, and 
 point it out for peculiar^ consideration. The explana- 
 tion is obvious, and need not be pursued in a greater 
 number of instances. 
 
 Words of this description all denote difierences ; 
 either such as mark out species from genera, or such 
 as mark out individuals from species. Of this latter 
 sort the number is very small ; of which the reason is 
 obvious ; individual differences are too numerous to 
 
296 ABSTKACTION. [cHAP. IX. 
 
 receive names, and are marked by contrivances of 
 abridgment which will be spoken of hereafter. 
 
 To explain this notation of differences ; the same 
 examples will suffice. In the phrase "tall man," the 
 adjective "tall" marks the difference between such a 
 man, and "short man," or "middle-sized man." Of 
 the genus man, tall men are one species ; and the 
 difference between them and the rest of the genus is 
 marked by the word tall. Of the genus flower, red 
 flowers form a species, and the difference between 
 them and the rest of the genus is marked by the 
 adjective red. Of the genus horse, race horse forms 
 a species, and the difference between this species 
 and the rest of the genus is marked by the word race. 
 
 It is of importance further to observe, that adjec- 
 tives singling out ideas which are not differences, that 
 is, ideas common to the whole class, are useless : as, 
 tangible wood ; coloured man ; sentient animal. 
 Such epithets express no more than what is expressed 
 by the name without them. 
 
 Another thing requiring the attention of the stu- 
 dent is the mode in which these differential adjectives 
 are generalized. As the word man, applied first to 
 one individual, then to another, becomes associated 
 with every individual, and every variety of the species, 
 and calls them all up in one very complex idea ; so 
 are these adjectives applied to one class after another, 
 and by that means at last call up a very complicated 
 idea. Let us take the word " black" for an example ; 
 and let us suppose that we apply this adjective first to 
 the word man. We say "black man." But we 
 speedily see that for the same reason for which we 
 say black man we may say black horse, black cow, 
 
CHAP. Tx.] ABSTRACTION. 297 
 
 black coat, and so on. The word black is tbus asso- 
 ciated with innumerable modifications of the sensa- 
 tion black. By frequent repetition, and the gradual 
 strengthening of the association, these modifications 
 are at last called up in such rapid succession that they 
 appear commingled, and no longer many ideas, but 
 one. Black is therefore no longer an individual but a 
 general name. It marks not the particular black of 
 a particular individual ; but the black of every indi- 
 vidual, and of all individuals.^^ The same is the case 
 
 ^^ The example which the author has here selected of a 
 general name, sets in a strong light the imperfection of the 
 theory of general names, laid down by hira in the preceding 
 chapter. A name like " black," which marks a simple sensa- 
 tion, is an extreme case of the inapplicability of the theory. 
 Can it be maintained that the idea called up in our minds by 
 the word black, is an idea compounded of ideas of black men, 
 black horses, black cows, black coats, and the like ? If I can 
 trust my own consciousness, the word need not, and generally 
 does not, call up any idea but that of a single black surface. 
 It is still not an abstract idea, but the idea of an individual 
 object. It is not a mere idea of colour ; it is that, combined 
 with ideas of extension and figure, always present but extremely 
 vague, because varying, even from one moment to the next. 
 These vague ideas of an uncertain extension and figure, com- 
 bined with the perfectly definite idea of a single sensation of 
 colour, are, to my consciousness, the sole components of the com- 
 plex idea associated with the word black. I am unable to find 
 in that complex idea the ideas of black men, horses, or other 
 definite things, though such ideas may of course be recalled by it. 
 
 In such a case as this, the idea of a black colour fills by itself 
 the place of the inner nucleus of ideas knit together by a closer 
 association, which I have described as forming the permanent 
 part of our ideas of classes of objects, and the meaning of 
 the class-names. — ^d. 
 
298 ABSTRACTION. [cHAP. IX. 
 
 with all other words of the same class. Thus I 
 apply the word sweet, first to the lump of sugar in 
 my mouth, next to honey, next to grapes, and so on. 
 It thus becomes associated with numerous modifica- 
 tions of the sensation sweet ; and when the association 
 is sufficiently strengthened by repetition, calls them 
 up in such close succession, that they are converted 
 into one complex idea. We are also to remember, that 
 the idea and the name have a mutual power over one 
 another. As the word black calls up the complex 
 idea, so every modification of black calls up the name ; 
 and in this, as in other cases, the name actually forms 
 a part of the complex idea. 
 
 The next thing, which I shall observe, deserves in 
 a high degi^ee, the attention of the learner. In the 
 various applications of that species of marks which 
 we are now considering, they are associated with two 
 distinguishable things ; but with the one much more 
 than the other. Thus, when we say black man, black 
 horse, black coat, and so of all other black things, the 
 word black is associated with the cluster, man, as often 
 as black man is the expression; with the cluster horse, 
 as often as black horse is the expression, and so on 
 with infinite variety : but at the same time that it is 
 associated with each of those various clusters, it is 
 also associated with the peculiar sensation of colour 
 which it is intended to mark. The clusters, there- 
 fore, with which it is associated, are variable; the 
 PECULIAR SEN^SATiON with which it is associated is 
 invariable. It is much more constantly, and there- 
 fore much more strongly associated with the 
 SENSATION than with any of the clusters. It is 
 at once a name of the clusters, and a name of the 
 
CHAP. IX.] ABSTRACTION. 299 
 
 sensation ; but it is more peculiarly a name of the 
 
 SENSATION. 
 
 We have, in a preceding note, observed, that such 
 words have been called connotatwe ; and I shall find 
 much convenience in using the term notation to 
 point out the sensation or sensations which are pecu- 
 liarly marked by such words, the term connotation 
 to point out the clusters which they mark along with 
 this their principal meaning. 
 
 Thus the word, black, notes that of which black is 
 more peculiarly the name, a particular colour ; it 
 connotes the clusters with the names of which it 
 is joined : in the expression, black man, it connotes 
 man ; black horse, it connotes horse ; and so of all 
 other cases. The ancient Logicians used these 
 terms, in the inverse order ; very absurdly, in my 
 opinion. ^^ 
 
 ®^ The word Connote, with its substantive Connotation, was 
 used by the old logicians in two senses ; a wider, and a nar- 
 rower sense. The wider is that in which, up to this place, the 
 author of the Analysis has almost invariably used it ; and is 
 the sense in which he defined it, in a note to section 6 of his 
 first chapter. " There is a large class of words which denote 
 "two things both together ; but the one perfectly distinguish- 
 " able from the other. Of these two things, also, it is observable, 
 " that such words express the one primarily as it were ; the 
 ** other in a way which may be called secondary. Thus white, 
 " in the phrase white horse, denotes two things, the colour and 
 " the horse ; but it denotes the colour primarily, the horse 
 " secondarily. We shall find it very convenient to say, there- 
 " fore, that it notes the primary, connotes the secondary 
 "signification." 
 
 This use of terms is attended with the difficulty, that it may 
 often be disputed which of the significations is primary and 
 
300 ABSTRACTION. [cHAP. IX. 
 
 In using these connotative names, it is often highly 
 convenient to drop the connotation ; that is, to leave 
 out the connoted cluster. 
 
 which secondary. In the example given, most people would 
 agree with the author that the colour is the primary significa- 
 tion ; the word being associated with the objects, only through 
 its previous association with the colour. But take the other of 
 the two words, horse. That too is connotative, and in the same 
 manner. It signifies any and every individual horse, and it also 
 signifies those attributes common to horses, which led to their 
 being classed together^ and receiving that common name. 
 Which, in this case, is the primary, and which the secondary 
 signification ? The author would probably say, that in this 
 case, unlike the other, horse is the primary signification, 
 the attributes the secondary. Yet in this equally with the 
 former case, the attributes are the foundation of the meaning: 
 a thing is called a horse "^ to express its resemblance to other 
 horses ; and the resemblance consists of the common attributes. 
 The question might be discuesed, pro and con, by many argu- 
 ments, without any conclusive result. The difference between 
 primary and secondary acceptations is too uncertain, and at 
 best too superficial, to be adopted as the logical foundation of 
 the distinction between the two modes of signification. 
 
 The author,however, has, throughout the preceding chapters, 
 regarded words as connoting any number of thiugs which 
 though included in their signification, are not, in his judgment, 
 what they primarily signify. He said, for example, that a 
 verb notes an action, and connotes the agent (as either me, 
 thee, or some third person), the number of agents (as one or 
 more), the time (as past, present, or future), and three modes, 
 "that in which there is no reference to anything preceding, 
 that in which there is a reference to something preceding, and 
 that in which reference is made to the will of one of the 
 Persons." I cite this complicated case, to shew by a striking 
 example the great latitude^' with which the author uses the 
 word Connote. 
 
CHAP. IX.J ABSTRACTION. 301 
 
 A mark is needed, to show when it is meant that 
 the connotation is dropped. A sHght mark put upon 
 the connotative term answers the purpose ; and shews 
 
 But in the present chapter he follows the example of some 
 of the old logicians in adopting a second and more restricted 
 meaning, expressive of the peculiar connotation which belongs 
 to all concrete general names ; viz, that twofold manner of 
 signification, by which every name of a class signifies, on the 
 one hand, all and each of the individual things composing the 
 class, and on the other hand the common attributes, in con- 
 sideration of which the class is formed and the name given, 
 and which we intend to affirm of every object to which we 
 apply the name. It is difficult to overrate the importance of 
 keeping in view this distinction, or the danger of overlooking 
 it when not made prominent by an appropriate phrase. The 
 word Connote, which had been employed for this purpose, had 
 fallen into disuse. But, though agreeing with the old logicians 
 in using the word Connote to express this distinction, the 
 author exactly reverses their employment of it. In their 
 phraseology, the class-name connotes the attributes : in his, it 
 notes the attributes, and connotes the objects. And he declares 
 that in his opinion, their mode of employing the term is very 
 absurd. 
 
 We have now to consider which of these two modes of em- 
 ploying it is really the most appropriate. 
 
 A concrete general name may be correctly said to be a mark, 
 in a certain way, both for the objects and for their common 
 attributes. But which of the two is it conformable to usage to 
 say that it is the name of? Assuredly, the objects. It is they 
 that are called by the name. I am asked, what is this object 
 called ? and I answer, a horse. I should not make this an- 
 swer if T were asked what are these attributes called. Again, 
 I am asked, what is it that is called a horse ? and I answer, 
 the object which you see ; not the qualities which you see. 
 Let us now suppose that I am asked, what is it that is called 
 black ; I answer, all things that have this particular colour. 
 
302 ABSTRACTION. [cHAP. IX. 
 
 when it is not meant that anything should be connoted. 
 In regard to the word black, for example, we merely 
 annex to it the syllable ness ; and it is immediately 
 
 Black is a name of all black things. The name of the colour 
 is not black, but blackness. The name of a thing must be the 
 name which is predicated of the thing, as a proper name is 
 predicated of the person or place it belongs to. It is scarcely 
 possible to speak with precision, and adhere consistently to 
 the same mode of speech, if we call a word the name of any- 
 thing but that which it is predicated of. Accordingly the old 
 logicians, who had not yet departed widely from the custom of 
 common speech, considered all concrete names as the names 
 of objects, and called nothing the name of an attribute but 
 abstract names. 
 
 Now there is considerable incongruity in saying that a word 
 connotes, that is, signifies secondarily, the very thing which it 
 is a name of. To connote, is to mark something along with, or 
 in addition to, something else. A name can hardly be said to 
 mark the thing which it is a name of in addition to some 
 other thing. If it marks any other thing it marks it in addi- 
 tion to the thing of which it is itself the name. In the present 
 case, what is marked in addition, is that which is the cause of 
 giving the name ; the attributes, the possession of which by a 
 thing entitles it to that name. It therefore seems more con- 
 formable to the original acceptation of the word Connote, that 
 we should say of names like man or black that they connote 
 humanity or blackness, and denote, or are names of, men and 
 black objects ; rather than, with the author of the Analysis, 
 that they note the attributes, and connote the things which 
 possess the attributes. 
 
 If this mode of using the terms is more consonant to pro- 
 priety of language, so also is it more scientifically convenient. 
 It is of extreme importance to have a technical expression ex- 
 clusively consecrated to signify the peculiar mode in which 
 the name of a class marks the attributes in virtue of which it 
 is a class, and is called by the name. The verb " to note,'' 
 
CHAP. ix.J ABSTRACTION. 303 
 
 indicated that all connotation is dropped : so, in sweet- 
 ness ; hardness ; dryness ; lightness. The new words, 
 so formed, are the words which have been denominated 
 
 employed by the author of the Analysis as the correlative of "to 
 connote," is far too general to be confined to so specific a use, 
 nor does the author intend so to confine it. " To connote," on 
 the contrary, is a phrase which has been handed down to us in 
 this restricted acceptation, and is perfectly fitted to be used as 
 a technical term. There is no more important use of a term 
 than that of fixing attention upon something which is in 
 danger of not being sufficiently taken notice of. This is em- 
 phatically the case with the attribute-signification of the 
 names of objects. That signification has not been seen clearly, 
 and what has been seen of it confusedly has bewildered or 
 misled some of the most distinguished philosophers. From 
 Hobbes to Hamilton, those who have attempted to penetrate 
 the secret of the higher logical operations of the intellect have 
 continually missed the mark for want of the light which a clear 
 conception of the connotation of general names spreads over 
 the subject. There is no fact in psychology which more 
 requires a technical name ; and it seems eminently desirable 
 that the words Connote and Connotative should be exclusively 
 employed for this purpose ; and it is for this purpose that I 
 have myself invariably employed them. 
 
 In studying the Analysis, it is of course necessary to bear 
 in mind that the author does not use the words in this sense, 
 but sometimes in a sense much more vague and indefinite, and, 
 when definite, in a sense the reverse of this. It may seem an 
 almost desperate undertaking, in the case of an unfamiliar 
 term, to attempt to rectify the usage introduced by the actual 
 reviver of the word : and nothing could have induced me to 
 attempt it, but a deliberate conviction that such a technical 
 expression is indispensable to philosophy, and that the author's 
 mode of employing these words unfits them for the purpose 
 for which they are needed, and for which they are well adapted. 
 I fear, however, that I have rarely succeeded in associating 
 
304 ABSTRACTION. [cHAP. IX. 
 
 ABSTRACT ; as the connotative terms from which they 
 are formed have been denominated concrete \ and, as 
 these terms are in frequent use, it is necessary that 
 the meaning of them should be well remembered. 
 
 It is now also manifest what is the real nature of 
 ABSTRACT tcrms ; a subject which has in general pre- 
 sented such an appearance of mystery. They are 
 simply the concrete terms, with the connotation 
 dropped. And this has in it, surely, no mystery at 
 all.^ 
 
 the words with their precise meanings anywhere but in my own 
 writings. The word Connote, not unfrequently meets us of 
 late in philosophical speculations, but almost always in a sense 
 more lax than the laxest in which, it is employed in the 
 Analysis, meaning no more than to irtiply. To such an extent 
 is this the case, that able thinkers and writers do not always 
 even confine the expression to names, but actually speak of 
 Things as connoting whatever, in their opinion, the existence 
 of the Things implies or presupposes. — Ed. 
 
 ^^ After having said that a concrete general name notes an 
 attribute, that this, one of the sensations in a cluster, and connotes 
 the objects which have the attribute, i.e. the clusters of which 
 that sensation forms a part; the author proceeds to say that an 
 abstract name is the concrete name with the connotation 
 dropped. 
 
 This seems a very indirect and circuitous mode of making 
 ns understand what an abstract name signifies. Instead of 
 aiming directly at the mark, it goes round it. It tells us that 
 one name signifies a part of what another name signifies, 
 leaving us to infer what part. A connotative name with the 
 connotation dropped, is a phrase requiring to be completed by 
 specifying what is the portion of signification left. The con- 
 crete name with its connotation signifies an attribute, and also 
 the objects which have the attribute. We are now instructed 
 
CHAP. IX.J ABSTRACTION. 305 
 
 It hence, also, appears that there can be no 
 ABSTRACT term without an implied concrete, though 
 cases are not wanting, in which there is much occa- 
 sion for the abstract term but not much for the con- 
 crete ; in which, therefore, the concrete is not in use, 
 or is supplied by another form of expression. 
 
 to drop the latter half of the sigDification, the objects. What 
 then remains ? The attribute. Why not then say at once 
 that the abstract name is the name of the attribute ? Why 
 tell us that x i& a plus b with b dropped, when it was as easy 
 to tell us that x \s a ? 
 
 The noticeable thing however is that if a stands merely for 
 the sensation, x really is a little more than a : the connota- 
 tion (in the author's sense of the term) of the concrete name 
 is not wholly dropped in the abstract name. The terra black- 
 ness, and every other abstract term, includes in its signification 
 the existence of a black object, though without declaring what 
 it is. That is indeed the distinction between the name of an 
 attribute, and the name of a kind or type of sensation. Names 
 of sensations by themselves are not abstract but concrete 
 names. They mark the type of the sensation, but they do not 
 mark it as emanating from any object. " The sensation of 
 black" is a concrete name, which expresses the sensation apart 
 from all reference to an object. "Blackness" expresses the 
 same sensation with reference to an object, by which the sen- 
 sation is supposed to be excited. Abstract names thus still 
 retain a limited amount of connotation in both the author's 
 senses of the term — the vaguer and the more specific sense. It 
 is only in the sense to which I am anxious to restrict the term^ 
 that any abstract name is without connotation. 
 
 An abstract name, then, may be defined as the name of an 
 attribute ; and, in the ultimate analysis, as the name of one 
 or more of the sensations of a cluster ; not by themselves, but 
 considered as part of any or all of the various clusters, into 
 which that type of sensations enters as a component part. — Ed* 
 
 VOL. I. X 
 
306 ABSTRACTION. [cHAP. IX. 
 
 In irregular and capricious languages, as our own, 
 the dropping of the connotation of the concrete terms 
 is not marked in a uniform manner ; and this requires 
 some illustration. Thus, heavy is a concrete term, 
 and we shew the dropping of the connotation, by the 
 same mark as in the instances above, saying heavi- 
 ness ; but we have another term which is exactly the 
 equivalent of heaviness, and frequently used as the 
 abstract of heavy ; that is, weight. Friend is a con- 
 crete, connotative term, in the substantive form. Its 
 connotation is dropped by another mark, the syllable 
 ship ; thus, friendship ; in like manner, generalship ; 
 brothership ; cousinship. The syllable age is another 
 of the marks we use for the same purpose ; pilotage, 
 parsonage, stowage. 
 
 Among concrete connotative words, we have already 
 had full opportunity of observing that verbs constitute 
 a principal class. Those words all note some motion 
 or action ; and connote an act07\ There is the same 
 frequency of occasion to leave out the connotation in 
 the case of this class of connotative words, as in other 
 classes. Accordingly abstract terms are formed from 
 them, as from the connotative adjectives and substan- 
 tives. The infinitive mood is such an abstract term ; 
 with this peculiarity, that, though it leaves out the con- 
 notation of the actor, it retains the connotation ottime.^^ 
 
 ^^ The infinitive mood does not always express time. At 
 least, it often expresses it aoristically, without distinction of 
 tense. "To love" is as abstract a name as " love," " to fear," 
 as " fear" : they are applied equally to past, present, and future. 
 The infinitives of the past and future, as amavisse, atYiaturns 
 esse, do, however, include in their signification a particular 
 time. — Ed. 
 
CHAP. IX.] ABSTRACTION. 307 
 
 It is convenient, however, to have abstract terms 
 from the verbs, which leave out also the connota- 
 tion of time ; such are the substantive amor from amo, 
 timor from iimeo, and so on. 
 
 Verbs have not only an active but a passive form. 
 In the passive form, it is not the action, but the bear- 
 ing of the action, which is noted; and not the actor ^ 
 but the bearer of the action, that is connoted. In 
 this case, also, there is not less frequent occasion to 
 drop the connotation. By the simple contrivance of 
 a slight alteration in the connotative term, the im- 
 portant circumstance of dropping the connotation is 
 marked. In the case of the passive as the active form 
 of verbs, the infinitive mood drops the connotation of 
 the person, but retains that of the time. Other 
 abstract terms, formed from the passive voice, leave 
 out the connotation both of person and time. Thus 
 from legor^ there is lectio ; from optor, optatio ; from 
 dicor, dictio; and so on. 
 
 It is to be remarked that the Latin mode of forming 
 abstract terms from verbs, by the termination " tio,' 
 has been adopted to a great extent in English. A 
 large proportion of our abstract terms are thus dis- 
 tinguished ; as action, association, imagination, navi- 
 gation, mensuration, friction, motion, station, faction, 
 legislation, corruption, and many others. 
 
 It is also of extreme importance to mark a great 
 defect and imperfection, in this respect, of the Latin 
 language. Such words as lectio, dictio, actio, are 
 derived with equal readiness either from the supine, 
 ledum, dictum, actum ; or from the participle, lectus, 
 dictus, actus. The supine is active^ the participle, 
 passive. From this circumstance probably it is, that 
 
 X 2 
 
308 ABSTRACTION. [cHAP. TX. 
 
 these abstract terms in the Latin language possess 
 both the active and passive signification ; and by this 
 most unfortunate ambiguity have proved a fertile 
 source of obscurity and confusion. This defect of the 
 Latin language is the more to be lamented by us, that 
 it has infected our own language ; for as we have 
 borrowed from the Latin language a great proportion 
 of our abstract terms, we have transplanted the mis- 
 chievous equivocation along with them. This 
 ambiguity the Greek language happily avoided : thus 
 it had Trpa^tc and wpay/na the first for the active sig- 
 nification of actio, the latter the passive. ^^ 
 
 Of the abstract terms, of genuine English growth, 
 derived from the concrete names of action, or verbs, 
 the participle of the past tense supplied a great num- 
 ber, merely droppnig the adjective, and assumuig the 
 substantive form. Thus, weight, a word which we 
 had occasion to notice before, is the participle weighed, 
 with the connotation dropped : stroke is merely 
 struck ; the thing struck, the connotation, being left 
 out : thought is the past participle passive of the 
 verb to think, and differs from the participle in no- 
 thing, but that the participle, the adjective, has the 
 connotation ; the abstract, the substantive, has it not. 
 Whether the concrete, or the abstract, is the term 
 employed, is in such cases always indicated by the 
 context ; and, therefore, no particular mark to dis- 
 tinguish them is required. 
 
 ^^ I apprehend that Trpay/aa is not an abstract but a con- 
 crete term, and does not express the attribute of being done, 
 but the thing done — the effect which results from the com- 
 pleted action. — Ed, 
 
CHAP. IX.J ABSTRACTION. 309 
 
 In our non -inflected language, a facility is afforded 
 in forming a non-connotative from the connotative, in 
 the active voice of verbs ; because the connotative 
 word is always distinguished by the presence of the 
 persons of the verb, or that of some part of the 
 auxihary verb. The same word, therefore, answers 
 for the abstract, as for the concrete ; it being of 
 course the abstract, when none of the marks of the 
 concrete are present. Thus the word love, is both the 
 verb or the connotative, and the substantive or the 
 non-connotative ; thus also fear, walk, ride, stand, 
 fight, smell, taste, sleep, dream, drink, work, breath, 
 and many others. 
 
 We have in English, formed from verbs, a great 
 many abstracts or non-connotatives, which terminate in 
 " th," as truth, health, dearth, stealth, death, strength. 
 It may be disputed whether these words are derived 
 from one part of the verb or another ; but, in all other 
 respects, the nature of them is not doubtful The 
 third person singular of the present, indicative active, 
 ends in " th ;" and, therefore, they may be said to be 
 that part of the verb with the connotation dropped. 
 The termination, however, of the past participle is 
 " d," and we know that '' th" and '' d," are the same 
 letter under a slight difference of articulation ; and, 
 therefore, they may just as well be derived from the 
 past participle, and as often at least as they have a 
 passive signification, no doubt are. Thus the verb 
 trow, to think, has either troweth, or trowed ; from 
 one of which, but more likely from the last, we have 
 truth : the verb to heal, has either healeth, or healed ; 
 from one of which, but more likely the last, we have 
 health : the verb to string has stringeth, or stringed ; 
 
310 ABSTRACTION. [cHAP. IX. 
 
 from one of which we have strength ; thus from dieth, 
 or died, death ; from stealeth, or stealed, stealth ; 
 mirth in the same manner, from a verb now out of 
 use ; so heighth, length, breadth. ^^ 
 
 ^^ The abstracts in -th belong to a very early stage of the 
 language. We cannot now form words like healthy truth, as 
 we can abstracts in -ness. As in the case of adjectives in -en 
 (wooden), and of preterites and participles like fell, fallen, 
 that particular part of the vital energy of the language that 
 produced them, is dead — ossified, as it were ; and we cannot 
 exemplify their formation by any process now going on. To 
 account for many of them, we must suppose them formed 
 from roots different from any new existing as separate words 
 ■ — roots from which the corresponding verbs and adjectives that 
 we are acquainted with have been themselves derived by 
 augmentation or other change. This being the case, it is im- 
 possible to say with certainty whether the immediate root of 
 any particular abstract in -th was a verb, a noun, or an ad- 
 jective ; and, indeed, the question need hardly be raised, since 
 a primitive root was of the nature of all three. 
 
 The structure of these derivatives is better seen in some 
 of the other Teutonic dialects than in the English or the Anglo- 
 Saxon, in Avhich the affix is reduced to a mere consonant. 
 Thus, for Eng. depth the Gothic has diupi-tha ; for heigh~th, 
 hauhi'tha. In Old High German the affix -tha becomes -da, 
 and we have heili-da corresponding to Eng. heal-th ; strenki- 
 da, to streng-th ; besides a great number of analogous forms, 
 such as evi'da, " eternity " (from the same root as ever ; com- 
 pare Lat. aetas for aevitas). In modern German compara- 
 tively few of these derivatives survive ; and in those that do, 
 the -da of the Old German has passed into -de, as in ge-baer-de, 
 the way of 'bearing ' oneself, behaviour ; equivalent to Latin 
 habi-tus. The modern German equivalents of bread-th, 
 le'ng4h, are breit-e, Idng-e; but in some of the popular dia- 
 lects the older forms breite de, Idng-de are still retained ; and 
 
CHAP. ix.J ABSTRACTTON. 311 
 
 It would be interesting to give a systematic ac- 
 count of the non-connotatives, derived from English 
 
 in Dutch warm-te corresponds to warmth, and grdt-te is 
 great-ness. When we recollect that th or d in the Germanic 
 languages represents in such cases the t of the Greek and 
 Latin (compare Gr. fxiXir (oc), honey with Goth, milith; Lat. 
 alter with Eag. other), we cannot help seeing how analogous 
 is the formation of the class of words we are now consider- 
 ing to that of Latin past participles (ama-tus, dic-tus, audi- 
 tus) . In the ease of those abstracts that seem to come more 
 naturally from an adjective root than from a verb, we can 
 conceive the adjective formed on the analogy of the past 
 participle ; just as there are in English adjectives having 
 no possible verbal root, yet simulating past participles ; 
 as able-bodi -ed, three- cor ner-ed. The abstract noun would 
 appear to have been originally distinguished from the participle, 
 or participial adjective, by some additional affix, as in lec-t-io. 
 In Greek and Latin this additional affix very often consisted in 
 a reduplication of the formative element t, as if for the purpose 
 of denoting multitude, generality; as in Greek (vto-rjjr-oc), 
 Jjatiu juven-tut- is J scuii-tat-is. It is not impossible that Goth. 
 diwin-tka, O.H.G. heili-da are abbreviations of diupi-tha-th, 
 heili-dad, just as Lat. sam-^a^ has dwindled down in modern 
 Ital. to sani-td. 
 
 In a great many words essentially belonging to the same 
 class both in meaning and in mode of formation, the -th has, 
 for the sake of euphony or from other causes, given place to 
 t or cZ. Thus mood corresponds to Goth, mo-th, and means a 
 motion (Lat. 97xoiits) or affection (of the mind); blood, to Goth., 
 blo-th; theft, is in Ang. Sax. theof-th, Mur-ther, from a 
 root akin to Lat. mori ; burthen, from the root of to bear 
 are of similar formation, with additional affixes. 
 
 All these considerations would seem to put Home Tooke's 
 proposed derivation of these abstracts from the third person 
 singular of the present indicative of the verb, completely out 
 
312 ABSTRACTION, [cHAP, IX. 
 
 verbs ; and this ought to be done ; but for the present 
 inquiry it would be an operation misplaced. The 
 nature of the words, and the mode of their significa- 
 tion, is all which here is necessary to be understood. 
 
 One grand class of connotative terms is composed 
 of such words as the following : walking, running, 
 flying, reading, striking ; and we have seen that, for 
 a very obvious utility, a generical name was invented, 
 the word acting, which includes the whole of these 
 specific names ; and to which the non- connotative, or 
 abstract term action corresponds. There was equal 
 occasion for a generical name to include all the specific 
 names belonging to the other class of connotative 
 terms ; such as coloured, sapid, hard, soft, hot, cold, 
 and so on. But language has by no means been so 
 happy in a general name for this, as for the other 
 class. The word such, is a connotative term, which 
 includes them all, and indeed the other class along with 
 them; for when we apply the word suCHtoany thing, we 
 comprehend under it all the ideas of which the cluster 
 
 of court. The famous case of truth from troweth is especially 
 absurd. For one thing the Aug. Sax. verb treowan does not 
 mean "to think/' but "to trust/' "rely on/' "believe." This 
 implies a ground for the trust, and that ground lies in the 
 quality expressed by the adjective, true. Truth has the same 
 relation, logically and etymologically, to true, that dearth has 
 to dear, Jtealth to hale. Remarking on the identity in form be- 
 tween the Ang. Sax. treow, " trust," " a treaty," and treow, *' a 
 tree," Jacob Grimm suggests that they are radically related, 
 and that the idea common to tree and true is firmness, fixedness. 
 Thus the ''true'" would be the "firm" the "fixed" — what may 
 be relied on. This view is supported by the analogy of the 
 Lat. robur, which means both an oak and strength. — F. 
 
CHAP. IX.J ABSTRACTION". 313 
 
 is composed. But this is not all which is included 
 under the word such. It is a relative term, and always 
 connotes so much of the meaning of some other term. 
 When we call a thing such, it is always understood 
 that it is such as some other thing. Thus we say, 
 John is such as James. Corresponding with our 
 *'such as," the Latins had talis qualis. If we could 
 suppose qualis to have been used without any conno- 
 tation of talis, qualis would have been such a word as 
 the occasion which we are now considering would have 
 required. The Latias did not use qualis^ in this 
 sense, as a general concrete, including all the other 
 names of the properties of objects other than actions. 
 But they made from it, as if used in that very sense, 
 a non-connotative or abstract term, the word quality, 
 which answers the same purpose with regard to both 
 classes, as action does to one of them. That is to 
 say ; it is a very general non-connotative term, in- 
 cluding under it the non-connotatives or abstracts of 
 hot, cold, hard, soft, long, short ; and not only of all 
 other words of that description, but of acting, and its 
 subordinates also. 
 
 Qudntus, is another concrete which has a double 
 connotation hke qualis. It connotes not only the 
 substantive with which it agrees, but also, being a 
 relative, the term tantus, which is its correlate. By 
 dropping both connotations, the abstract quantity is 
 made ] a general term, including under it the abstracts 
 of all the names by which the modifications of greater 
 and less are denominated ; as large, small, a mile long, 
 an inch thick, a handful, a ton, and so on. 
 
 Much remains, beside what is here stated, of the 
 fuU explanation of the mode in which talis qualis, 
 
314 ABSTRACTION. [cHAP. IX. 
 
 tantus quantus, are made conducive to the gi^eat pur- 
 poses of marking. But this must be reserved till we 
 come to treat of Relative terms, in general. 
 
 We have previously observed, that one of the pur- 
 poses for which we abstract, or sunder the parts of a 
 complex idea, marked by a general name, is, to form 
 those adjectives, or connotative terms, which, denoting 
 differences, enable us to form, and to name, subordi- 
 nate classes. We now come to the next of the great 
 purposes to which abstraction is subservient, and it is 
 one to which the whole of our attention is due. 
 
 Of all the things in which we are interested, that is, 
 on which our happiness and misery depend, meaning 
 here by things, both objects and events, the most im- 
 portant by far are the successions of objects ; in other 
 words, the effects which they produce. In reality, 
 objects are interesting to us, solely on account of the 
 effects which they produce, either on ourselves, or on 
 other objects. 
 
 But an observation of the greatest importance 
 readily occurs ; that of any cluster, composing our 
 idea of an object, the effects or consequents depend, in 
 general, more upon one part of it than another. If 
 a stone is hoi, it has certain effects or consequences ; 
 if heavy, it has others, and so on. It is of great im- 
 portance to us, in respect to those successions, to be 
 able to mark discriminately the real antecedent ; not 
 the antecedent combined with a number of things 
 with which the consequent has nothing to do. I ob- 
 serve, that other objects, as iron, lead, gold, produce 
 similar effects with stone ; as often as the name hot 
 can, in like manner, be predicated of them. In the 
 several clusters therefore, hot stone, hot iron, hot gold, 
 
CHAP. IX.J ABSTRACTION. 315 
 
 hot lead, there is a portion, the same in aU, with 
 which, and not with the rest, the effects which I am 
 contemplating are connected. This part is marked 
 by the word hot ; which word, however, in the case of 
 each cluster, connotes also the other parts of the 
 cluster. It appears at once, how much convenience 
 there must be in dropping the connotation, and ob- 
 taining a word which, in each of those cases, shall 
 mark exclusively that part of the cluster on which the 
 effect depends. This is accomphshed by the abstract 
 or non-connotative terms, heat, and weight. 
 
 Certain alterations, also, are observed in those parts 
 of clusters on which such and such effects depend ; 
 which alterations make corresponding alterations in 
 the effects, though no other alteration is observable, 
 in the cluster, to which such parts belong. Thus, if a 
 stone is more or less hot, the effects or successions are 
 not the same ; so of iron, so of lead ; but the same 
 alteration in the same part of each of those clusters, 
 is followed by the same effects. It is true, that we 
 know nothing of the alteration in the cause, but by 
 the alteration in the effects ; for we only say that a 
 stone is hotter, because it produces such other effects, 
 either in our sensations immediately, or in the sen- 
 sations we receive from other objects. It is, however, 
 obvious that we have urgent use for the means of 
 marking, not only the alterations in the effects, but 
 the alterations in the antecedents. This we do, by 
 supposing the alterations to be those of increase and 
 diminution, and marking them by the distinction of 
 lower and higher degrees. But, for this purpose, it 
 is obvious that we must have a term which is not 
 connotative ; because we suppose no alteration in any 
 
316 ABSTRACTION. [CHAP. IX. 
 
 part of the cluster but that which is not connoted ; 
 thus we can say, with sufficient precision, that a 
 greater or less degree of heat produces such and such 
 eflfects ; but we cannot say, that a greater or less 
 degree of hot stone, of hot iron, of hot any thing else, 
 produces these effects. 
 
 This then, is another use, and evidently a most 
 important use, of abstract, non-connotative terms. 
 They enable us to mark, with more precision, those 
 successions, in which our good and evil is wholly 
 contained. 
 
 This also enables us to understand, what it is which 
 recommends such and such aggregates, and not others, 
 for classification. Those successions of objects, in 
 which we are interested, determine the classifications 
 which we form of them. 
 
 Some successions are found to depend upon the 
 clusters, called objects, all taken together. Thus a 
 tree, a man, a stone, are the antecedents of certain 
 consequents, as such ; and not on account of any 
 particular part of the cluster. 
 
 Other consequents depend not upon the whole of 
 the cluster, but upon some particular part : thus a tall 
 tree, produces certain effects, which a tree not tall, 
 cannot produce ; a strong man, produces certain 
 effects, which a man not strong cannot produce. 
 When these consequents are so important, as to 
 deserve particular attention, they and their antece- 
 dents must be marked. For this purpose, are em- 
 ployed the connotative terms marking differences. 
 These terms enable us to group the clusters contain- 
 ing those antecedents into a sub-class ; and non-con- 
 notative or ABSTKACT terms, derived from them, enable 
 
CHAP. ix.J ABSTRACTION. 3,17 
 
 US to speak separately of that part of the cluster which 
 we have to mark as the precise antecedent of the 
 consequent which is engaging our attention. 
 
 It is presumed, that these illustrations will suffice, 
 to enable the reader to discern the real marking power 
 of abstract terms, and also to perceive the mode of 
 their formation. 
 
518 MEMORY. [chap. X. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 " The science of metaphysics, as it regards the mind, is, in its 
 most important respects, a science of analysis ; and we carry on 
 our analysis, only when we suspect that what is regarded by 
 others as an ultimate principle, admits of still finer evolution into 
 principles still more elementary. "^//ig^ziiry into the delation of 
 Cattse and Effect, by Thomas Brown, M.D. P. iv. s. i. p. 331. 
 
 It has been already observed that if we had no other 
 state of consciousness than sensation, we never could 
 have any knowledge, excepting that of the present 
 instant. The moment each of our sensations ceased, 
 it would be gone for ever ; and we should be as if we 
 had never been. 
 
 The same would be the case if we had only ideas in 
 addition to sensations. The sensation would be one 
 state of consciousness, the idea another state of con- 
 sciousness. But if they were perfectly insulated ; the 
 one having no connexion with the other ; the idea, 
 after the sensation, would give me no more informa- 
 tion, than one sensation after another. We should 
 still have the consciousness of the present instant, and 
 nothing more. We should be wholly incapable of 
 acquiring experience, and accommodating our actions 
 
CHAP. X.] MEMORY. 319 
 
 to the laws of nature. Of course we could not con- 
 tinue to exist. 
 
 Even if our ideas were associated in trains, but only 
 as they are in Imagination, we should still be without 
 the capacity of acquiring knowledge. One idea, upon 
 this supposition, would follow another. But that 
 would be all. Each of our successive states of con- 
 sciousness, the moment it ceased, would be gone for 
 ever. Each of those momentary states would be our 
 whole being. 
 
 Such, however, is ndt the nature of man. We have 
 states of consciousness, which are connected with past 
 states. I hear a musical air ; I recognise it as the air 
 which was sung to me in my infancy. I have an idea 
 of a ghost ; I recognise the terror with which, when 
 I was alone in the dark, that idea, in my childish 
 years, was accompanied. Uniting in this manner the 
 present with the past, and not otherwise, I am sus- 
 ceptible of knowledge ; I am capable of ascertaining 
 the quahties of things ; that is, their power of affecting 
 me ; and of knowing in what circumstances what 
 other circumstances will take place. Suppose that my 
 present state of consciousness is the idea of putting 
 my finger in the flame of the candle. I recognise the 
 act as a former act f and this recognition is followed 
 
 ^'^ The recognition of an act as a former act, or of a present 
 sensation as having formerly occurred, is a phrase of the in- 
 tellectual power named consciousness of Agreement, or Simi- 
 larity, which is hoth an essential of our Knowledge, and a 
 means of mental Reproduction. The defectiveness of the 
 author's view of this function of the intellect has been elsewhere 
 commented on. — B. 
 
320 MEMORY. [chap. X. 
 
 by another, namely, that of the pain which I felt 
 immediately after. This part of my constitution, 
 which is of so much importance to me, I find it useful 
 to name. And the name I give to it is memory. 
 When the memory of the past is transferred into an 
 anticipation of the future, by a process which will be 
 explained hereafter, it gets the name of experience ; 
 and all our power of avoiding evil, and obtaining 
 good, is derived from it. Unless I remembered that 
 my finger had been in the flame of the candle ; and 
 unless I anticipated a similar consequent, from a 
 similar antecedent, I should touch the flame of the 
 candle, after being burned by it a hundred times, 
 just as I should have done, if neither burning nor 
 any of its causes had ever formed part of my con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 Our inquiry is, what this part of our constitution, 
 so highly important to us, is composed of. All in- 
 quirers are agreed, that it is complex ; but what the 
 elements are into which it may be resolved, has not 
 been very successfully made out. 
 
 It is proper to begin with the elements which are 
 universally acknowledged. Among them, it is certain, 
 that IDEAS are the fundamental part. Nothing is 
 remembered but through its idea. The memory, 
 however, of a thing, and the idea of it, are not the 
 same. The idea may be without the memory ; but 
 the memory cannot be without the idea. The idea of 
 an elephant may occur to me, without the thought of 
 its having been an object of my senses. But I cannot 
 have the thought of its having been an object of my 
 senses, without having the idea of the animal at the 
 
CHAP. X.] MEMORY. 321 
 
 same time. The consciousness, therefore, which I 
 call memory, is an idea, but not an idea alone ; it is 
 an idea and something more. So far is our inquiry 
 narrowed. What is that which, combined with an 
 idea, constitutes memory ? 
 
 That memory may be, the idea must be. In what 
 manner is the idea produced ? 
 
 We have already seen in what manner an idea is 
 called into existence by association. It is easy to 
 prove that the idea which forms part of memory is 
 called up in the same way, and no other. If I think 
 of any case of memory, I shall always find that the 
 idea, or the sensation which preceded the memory, 
 was one of those which are calculated, according to 
 the laws of association, to call up the idea involved in 
 that case of memory ; and that it was by the preceding 
 idea, or sensation, that the idea of memory was in 
 reality brought into the mind. I have not seen a 
 person with whom I was formerly intimate for a 
 number of years ; nor have I, during all that interval, 
 had occasion to think of him. Some object which 
 had been frequently presented to my senses along with 
 him, or the idea of something with which I have 
 strongly associated the idea of him, occurs to me ; in- 
 stantly the memory of him exists. The friend with 
 whom I had often seen him in company, accidentally 
 meets me ; a letter of his which had been long unob- 
 sei'ved, falls under my eye ; or an observation which 
 he was fond of producing:, is repeated in my hearing; 
 these are circumstances all associated with the idea 
 of the individual in question ; the idea of him is 
 excited by them, and with the mere idea of the 
 
 VOL. I. Y 
 
322 MEMORY. [chap. X. 
 
 man, all the other circumstances which constitute 
 memory. 
 
 The necessary dependence of memory upon associa- 
 tioUj may be proved still more rigidly in this way. It 
 has been already observed, that we cannot call up any 
 idea by willing it. When we are said to will, there 
 must be in the mind, the idea of what is willed. 
 ** Will, without an idea," are incongruous terms; as 
 if one should say, ''I can will, and will nothing." 
 But if the idea of the thing willed, must be in the 
 mind, as a condition of willing, to will to have an 
 idea in the mind, is to will to have that in it, which, 
 by the supposition, is in it already. 
 
 There is a state of mind familiar to all men, in which 
 we are said to try to remember. In this state, it is 
 certain that we have not in the mmd the idea which 
 we are trying to have in it. How then is it, that we 
 proceed in the course of our endeavour to procure its 
 introduction into the mind ? If we have not the idea 
 itself, we have certain ideas connected with it. We run 
 over those ideas, one after another, in hopes that some 
 one of them will suggest the idea we are in quest of ; 
 and if any of them does, it is always one so connected 
 with it, as to call it up in the way of association. I 
 meet an old acquaintance, whose name I do not 
 remember, and wish to recollect. I run over a num- 
 ber of names, in hopes that some of them may be 
 associated with the idea of the individual. I think of 
 all the circumstances in which I have seen him en- 
 gaged ; the time when I knew him, the place in which 
 I knew him, the persons along with whom I knew 
 him, the things he did, or the things he suffered ; and, 
 if I chance upon any idea with wliich the name is 
 
CHAP. X.J MEMORY. 323 
 
 associated, then immediately I have the recollection ; 
 if not, my pursuit of it is in vain.^ 
 
 There is another set of cases, very familiar, but 
 affording very important evidence on the subject. It 
 frequently happens, that there are matters which we 
 desire not to forget. What is the contrivance to 
 which we have recourse for preserving the memory ; 
 that is, for making sure that it will be called into 
 existence, when it is our wish that it should. All 
 men, invariably employ the same expedient. They 
 endeavour to form an association between the idea of 
 the thing to be remembered, and some sensation, or 
 some idea, which they know beforehand will occur at 
 or near the time when they wish the remembrance to 
 be in their minds. If this association is formed, and 
 the sensation or the idea, with which it has been 
 formed, occurs ; the sensation, or idea, calls up the 
 remembrance ; and the object of him who formed the 
 association is attained. To use a vulgar instance ; a 
 man receives a commission from his friend, and, that 
 he may not forget it, ties a knot on his handkerchief. 
 How is this fact to be explained ? First of all, the 
 idea of the commission is associated with the making 
 of the knot. Next, the handkerchief is a thing which 
 it is known beforehand will be frequently seen, and of 
 
 ^^ This process seems best expressed by laying down a law 
 of Compound or Composite Association; under which a plurality 
 of feeble links of connexion may be a substitute for one powerful 
 and self-sufficing link. — B. 
 
 [The laws of compound association are the subject of one 
 of the most original and profound chapters of Mr. Bain's 
 treatise (The Senses and the Intellect. Part ii. Chap. 3.). — Ed^ 
 
 y 2 
 
324 MEMORY. [chap. x. 
 
 course at no gfreat distance of time from tLe occasion 
 on which the memory is desired. The handkerchief 
 being seen, the knot is seen, and this sensation recalls 
 the idea of the commission, between which and itself, 
 the association had been purposely formed. 
 
 What is. thus effected through association with a 
 sensation, may be effected through association with 
 an idea. If there is any idea, which I know will 
 occur to me at a particular time, I may render my- 
 self as sure of recalling any thing which I wish to 
 remember at that time, by associating it with this 
 idea, as if I associated it with a sensation. Suppose 
 1 know that the idea of Socrates will be present to 
 my mind at twelve o'clock this day week : if I wish 
 to remember at that time something which I have to 
 do, my purpose will be gained, if I establish between 
 the idea of Socrates, and the circumstance which I 
 wish to remember, such an association that the one 
 will call up the other. 
 
 A very remarkable application of this principle 
 offers itself to our contemplation, in the artificial 
 memory which was invented by the ancient orators 
 and rhetoricians. The orator made choice of a set 
 of objects, sufficient in number to answer his purpose. 
 The ideas of those objects he taught himself, by fre- 
 quent repetition, to pass through his mind in one 
 constant oi'der. The objects which he chose were 
 commonly such as aided him in fixing them according 
 to a certain order in his memory ; the parts, for ex- 
 ample, of some public building, or other remarkable 
 assemblage. Having so prepared himself, the mode 
 in which he made use of his machinery was as fol- 
 lows. The topics or sentiments of his speech were 
 
CHAP, x.j MEMORY. 325 
 
 to follow in a certain order. The parts of the build- 
 ing he had chosen as his instrument had previously 
 been taught to follow by association, in a certain 
 order. With the first of these, then, he associated 
 the first topic of his discourse ; with the second, the 
 second, and so on. The first part of the building 
 suggested the first topic ; the second, the second ; and 
 each another, to the end of his discourse. ^^ 
 
 e 
 
 We not only have ideas of memory, individually 
 taken; that is, separately, each by itself; as in the 
 instances which we have just been considering : we 
 have also trains of such ideas. All narratives of 
 events which ourselves have witnessed are composed 
 of such trains. The ideas forming those trains do 
 not follow one another in a fortuitous manner. Each 
 succeeding idea is called up by the one which pre- 
 
 ^^ The cooditions of the success of this expedient are in- 
 teresting to study as illustrations of the working of association. 
 The supposition is that the parts of the building are perfectly 
 coherent in the mind, that they can recall each other easily 
 and rapidly. The advantage gained will depend entirely upon 
 the superior facility of attaching a head of discourse to the 
 visible appearance of a room, as compared with the facility of 
 attaching it to a previous head. Jf we can form an enduring 
 bond between a topic and the picture of an interior, by a smaller 
 mental effort than is necessary to conjoin two successive topics, 
 there is a gain by the employment of the device ; the difference 
 of the two efforts is the measure of the gain. Probably the 
 result would depend upon the relative force of the pictorial 
 and the verbal memory in the individual mind. In minds 
 where the pictorial element prevails, there might be a positive 
 advantage ; in cases where the pictorial power is feeble and the 
 verbal power strong, there would almost certainly be a dead 
 loss. — B. 
 
:V26 MEMORY. [chap. x. 
 
 cedes it ; and every one of these successions takes 
 place according to a law of association. After a lapse 
 of many years, I see the house in which my father 
 died. Instantly a long train of the circumstances 
 connected with him rise in my mind : the sight of 
 him on his death -bed ; his pale and emaciated counte- 
 nance ; the calm contentment with which he looked 
 forward to his end ; his strong solicitude, terminating 
 only with hfe, for the happiness of his son ; my own 
 sympathetic emotions when I saw him expire ; the 
 mode and guiding principles of his life ; the thread 
 of his history ; and so on. In this succession of ideas, 
 each of which is an idea of memory, there is not a 
 single link which is not formed by association ; not 
 an idea which is not brought into existence by that 
 which precedes it. 
 
 Whensoever there is a desire to fix any train in 
 the memory, all men have recourse to one and the 
 same expedient. They practise what is calculated to 
 create a strong association. The grand cause of strong 
 associations is repetition. This, accordingly, is the 
 common resource. If any man, for example, wishes 
 to remember a passage of a book, he repeats it a suffi- 
 cient number of times. To the man practised in ap- 
 plying the principle of association to the phenomena 
 in which it is concerned, the explication of this pro- 
 cess presents itself immediately. The repetition of 
 one word after another, and of one idea after another, 
 gives the antecedent the power of calling up the con- 
 sequent from the beginning to the end of that portion 
 of discourse, which it is the purpose of the learner to 
 remember. 
 
 That the remembrance is produced in no other way, 
 
CHAP. X.J MEMORY. 327 
 
 is proved by a decisive experiment. For, after a pas- 
 sage has been committed to memory in the most 
 perfect manner, if the learner attempts to repeat it in 
 any other order than that, according to which the 
 association was formed, he will fail. A man who has 
 been accustomed to repeat the Lord's Prayer, for 
 example, from his infancy, will, if he has never tried 
 it, find the impossibility of repeating it backwards, 
 small as the number is of the words of which it consists. 
 That words alone, without ideas, suggest one 
 another in a train, is proved by our power of re- 
 peating a number of words of an unknown language. ^^ 
 And, it is worth observing, that the power of arith- 
 metical computation is dependent npon the same 
 process. Thus, for example, when a child learns the 
 multiplication table, and says, 11 times 11 is 121, or 
 12 times 12 is 144, he annexes no ideas to those 
 words ; but, by force of repetition, the expression 1 2 
 times 12 instantly calls up the expression 144, or 11 
 times 11 the expression 121, and so upwards from 
 twice 2, with which he begins. In illustrating the 
 mode in which repetition makes association more and 
 more easy^ I used the process of arithmetical addition 
 as a striking example. Persons little accustomed to 
 the process perform it with great difficulty ; persons 
 
 ^^ There is here a lapse, of mere expression. The meaning 
 is not that words suggest one another without ideas ; words do 
 not suggest words, but the ideas of words. The author in- 
 tended to say that words, or the ideas of them, often suggest 
 the ideas of other words (forming a series) without suggesting 
 along with them any ideas of the things which those words 
 signify. — Ed. 
 
328 MEMORY. [chap, X. 
 
 much accustomed to it, with astonishing facility. In 
 men of the first class, the association is imperfectly 
 formed, and the several antecedent expressions slowly 
 suggest the proper consequent ones ; in those of the 
 latter class the association is very perfectly formed, 
 and the expressions suggest one another with the 
 greatest expedition and ease. 
 
 Thus far we have proceeded with facihty. In 
 Memory there are ideas, and those ideas both rise up 
 singly, and are connected in trains by association. 
 The same occurs in Imagination. Imagination con- 
 sists of ideas, both suggested singly, and connected 
 in trains, by association. This is the whole account 
 of Imagination. But Memory is not the same with 
 Imagination. We all know, when we say, we 
 imagine a thing, that we have not the same meaning, 
 as when we say, we remember it. Memory, there- 
 fore, has in it all that Imagination has ; but it must 
 also have something more. We are now, then, to 
 inquire what that additional something is. 
 
 There are two cases of Memory. One is, when we 
 remember sensations. The other is, when we re- 
 member ideas. The first is, when we remember 
 what we have seen, felt, heard, tasted, or smelt. 
 The second is, when we remember what we have 
 thought, without the intervention of the senses. I 
 remember to have seen and heard George III., when 
 making a speech at the opening of his Parliament. 
 This is a case of sensation. I remember my concep- 
 tions of the Emperor Napoleon and his audience, 
 when I read the account of his first address to the 
 French Chambers. This is a case of ideas. 
 
CHAP. X.J MEMORY. 329 
 
 We sliall consider the case of sensations first. 
 What is it to remember any thing I have seen ^ 
 
 First, there is the idea of it ; and that idea brought 
 into existence by association. 
 
 But, in Memory, there is not only the idea of the 
 thing remembered ; there is also the idea of my 
 having seen it. Now these two, 1, the idea of the 
 thing, 2, the idea of my having seen it, combined, 
 m.ake up, it will not be doubted, the whole of that 
 state of consciousness which we call memory.^' 
 
 But what is it we are to understand by what I 
 have called " the idea of my having seen the object V 
 This is a very complex idea ; and, in expounding, 
 clearly, to the comprehension of persons, not familiar 
 with these solutions, the import and force of a very 
 complex idea, lies all the difficulty of the case. 
 
 It will be necessary for such persons to call to mind 
 the illustrations they have already contemplated of 
 the remarkable case of association, in which a long 
 train of ideas is called up so rapidly as to appear but 
 one idea ; and also the other remarkable case, in 
 which one idea is so strongly associated with another, 
 that it is out of our power to separate them. Thus, 
 when we use the word battle, the mind runs over the 
 
 ^^ The doctrine which the author thiaks " will not be 
 doubted" is more than doubted by most people, and in my 
 judgment rightly. To complete the memory of seeing the 
 thing, I must have not only the idea of the thing, and the idea 
 of my having seen it, but the belief of my having seen it ; and 
 even this is not always enough ; for I may believe on the 
 authority of others that I have seen a thing which I have no 
 remembrance of seeing. — J^d, 
 
330 MEMORY. [chap. X. 
 
 train of countless acts, from the- beginning of that 
 operation to the end ; and it does this so rapidly, that 
 the ideas are all clustered into one, which it calls a 
 battle. In like manner, it clusters a series of battles, 
 and all the intermediate operations, into one idea, and 
 calls it a campaign ; also several campaigns into one 
 idea, and calls it a war. Of the same nature is the 
 compound idea, which we denote by the word year ; 
 and the still more compound idea, which we denote 
 by the word century. The mind runs over a long 
 tram of ideas, and combines them so closely to- 
 gether, that they assume the appearance of a single 
 idea ; to which, in the one case, we assign the name 
 year, in the other, the name century. 
 
 In my remembrance of George III., addressing 
 the two Houses of Parliament, there is, first of all, 
 the mere idea, or simple apprehension ; the conception 
 as it is sometimes called, of the objects. There is 
 combined with this, to make it memory, my idea of 
 my having seen and heard those objects. And this 
 combination is so close, that it is not in my power to 
 separate them. I cannot have the idea of George 
 III. ; his person and attitude, the paper he held in his 
 hand, the sound of his voice while reading from it, 
 the throne, the apartment, the audience ; without 
 having the other idea along with it, that of my 
 havinpf been a witness of the scene. 
 
 Now, in this last-mentioned part of the compound, 
 it is easy to perceive two important elements ; the 
 idea of wy present self , the remembering self; and the 
 idea of my past self the remembered or witnessing 
 self. These two ideas stand at the two ends of a 
 portion of my being ; that is, of a series of my states 
 
CHAP. X.J MEMOHY. 331 
 
 of consciousness. That series consists of the succes- 
 sive states of my consciousness, intervening between 
 the moment of perception, or the past moment, and 
 the moment of memory, or the present moment. 
 What happens at the moment of memory? The 
 mind runs back from that moment to the moment of 
 perception. That is to say, it runs over the inter- 
 vening states of consciousness, called up by associa- 
 tion. But " to run over a number of states of con- 
 sciousness, called up by association," is but another 
 mode of saying, that "we associate them;" and in 
 this case we associate them so rapidly and closely, 
 that they run, as it were, into a single point of con- 
 sciousness, to which the name memory is assigned. 
 
 If this explanation of the case in which we remember 
 sensations is understood, the explanation of the case in 
 which we remember ideas cannot occasion much of 
 difficulty. I have a lively recollection of Polyphemus s 
 cave, and the actions of Ulysses and the Cyclops, as 
 described by Homer. In this recollection there is, 
 first of all, the ideas, or simple conceptions of the 
 objects and acts ; and along with these ideas, and so 
 closely combined as not to be separable, the idea of my 
 having formerly had those same ideas. And this idea 
 of my having formerly had those ideas, is a veiy com- 
 plicated idea ; including the idea of myself of the 
 present moment remembering, and that of myself of 
 the past moment conceiving ; and the whole series of 
 the states of consciousness, which intervened between 
 myself remembering, and myself conceiving. 
 
 If we contemplate forgetfulness, not memory, we 
 shall see how completely the account of it confirms 
 the account we have just rendered of memory. Every 
 
332 MEMORY. [chap. X. 
 
 case of forgetfulness, is a case of weakened, or extinct, 
 association. Some years ago, I could repeat a certain 
 discourse with accuracy and ease, from beginning to 
 end ; attempting it, the other day, I was unable to 
 repeat more than a few sentences. The reason is 
 obvious. The last of the words and ideas which 
 occurred to me failed to suggest the following ; that 
 is to say, the association which formerly existed be- 
 tween them was dissolved. 
 
 A remarkable piece of natural scenery, composed of 
 mountains, woods, rivers, lakes, ocean, flocks, herds, 
 cultivated fields, gay cottages, and splendid palaces, 
 of which I had a lively recollection many years ago, 
 presents itself to me now very much faded : in other 
 words, a great variety of the circumstances, which 
 make up the detail and minute features of the scene, 
 were formerly remembered by me, but are now for- 
 gotten. And how forgotten ? The manner is obvious. 
 The greater features, which I still remember, had 
 formerly the power of calling up the smaller along 
 with them, and the whole scene was revived ; the 
 association gradually declining, the great objects have 
 no longer the power to excite the idea of the small ; 
 and they are therefore gone from me for ever. 
 
 There are things of which I have so entirely lost the 
 recollection, that it never can be revived. The mean- 
 ing is, that the associations which were formed be- 
 tween the ideas of them, and other ideas, are so 
 completely dissolved, that none of my present ideas 
 has the power of exciting them. 
 
 It is observable, that sensations have a stronger 
 power to excite recollections than is possessed by 
 
CHAP. X.] MEMORY. 333 
 
 ideas. ^^ A marij after an absence of many years, 
 revisits the scenes of his infancy : a variety of circum- 
 stances crowd into his memory, which, but for the 
 scene before him, would never have been remembered 
 again. These are the circumstances between which, 
 and the perception of the pristine objects, the associa- 
 tion is not yet dissolved. There are other circum- 
 stances, without number, which (the association being 
 completely dissolved) not even that perception can 
 revive, and which never can be remembered more. 
 
 We have seen that there are two cases of memory ; 
 that in which sensations are remembered, and that in 
 which ideas. 
 
 It is said, that there are men, who, by often telling 
 a mendacious story as true, come at last to believe it 
 to be true. When this happens, the fact is, that a 
 case of the memory of ideas, comes to be mistaken for 
 a case of the memory oi sensations. 
 
 How did the man know at first that it was a ficti- 
 tious story ; and how did he afterwards lose that 
 knowledge ? 
 
 He knew, at first, by certain associations ; he lost 
 his knowledge, by losing those associations, and ac- 
 
 ^^ This is for no other reason than the superior intensity or 
 impressiveness of the actual as compared with the ideal. 
 Although as a rule, the sensation has a greater hold of the 
 mind, than the corresponding idea, there are exceptions. An 
 idea may sometimes be accompanied with an intensity of mental 
 occupation and excitement, surpassing the reality : what we 
 have looked at with indifference when it occurred, may take on 
 an extraordinary importance in the retrospect ; in which case 
 its power of resuscitating collateral circumstances will be far 
 greater than the power of the original sensation. — B. 
 
334 MEMORY. [chap. X. 
 
 quiring others in their stead. When he fii'st told the 
 story, the circumstances related called up to hiua the 
 idea of himself fabricating the story. This was the 
 memory of the fabrication. In repeating the story as 
 real, the idea of himself fabricating the story is hurried 
 over rapidly ; the idea of himself as actor in the story 
 is dwelt upon with great emphasis. In continued re- 
 petitions, the first circumstance being attended to as 
 little as possible, the association of it grows weaker 
 and weaker ; the other circumstance engrossing the 
 attention, the association of it grows stronger and 
 stronger ; till the weaker is at last wholly overpowered 
 by the stronger, and ceases to have any effect. 
 
 In delirium, madness, and dreams, men believe that 
 what they only imagine, they hear, see, and do. This 
 so far agrees with the case of forgetfulness, just ex- 
 plained, that, in both, there is a mistake of ideas for 
 sensations ; but, in the case of memory, it is a mistake 
 of past ideas for past sensations ; in delirium, madness, 
 and dreaming, it is a mistake of present ideas for 
 present sensations. 
 
 How men in sound memory distinguish the ideas 
 remembered, from sensations remembered, and know 
 that the one is not the other, seems to be accounted 
 for by the difference of the things themselves. A 
 sensation is diflferent from an idea, only because it is 
 felt to be different ; and being felt to be different, and 
 known to be different, are not two things, but one 
 and the same thing. I have a sensation ; I have an 
 idea : if these two are distinguishable in the having, 
 it is likely that the copy of the sensation should be 
 distinguishable from the revival of the idea, when they 
 are both brought up by association ; just as when I 
 
CHAP. X.J MEMOE.Y. 335 
 
 have two distinguishable sensations, one, for example, 
 of red, and another of black, the copies of them, when 
 brought up by association, ai^e distinguishable. Be- 
 sides, the accompaniments of a sensation are always 
 generically different from those of an idea ; of course, 
 the associations are generically different. The accom- 
 paniments of a sensation, are all the simultaneous 
 objects of sensation, together with all those which, to a 
 certain extent, both preceded and followed it. The 
 accompaniments of an idea are not the simiiltaneouH 
 objects of sensation, but other ideas; namely, the 
 neighbouring parts, antecedent and consequent, of 
 the mental train. A sensation, therefore, called up 
 by association, and an idea called up by association, 
 are distinguished both by the difference of the two 
 feelings, and the difference of the associated circum- 
 stances. 
 
 It is observable, that the idea of a sensation called 
 up by association, and recognised as the idea of a 
 sensation, is of course a remembrance. The recogni- 
 tion consists in that highly complex idea., consisting of 
 three principal ingredients : 1, the point of conscious- 
 ness called the remembering self; 2, the point of con- 
 sciousness called the percipient self ; 3, the successive 
 states of consciousness which filled up the interval 
 between these two points. 
 
 An idea called up by association is not necessarily a 
 remembrance ; it is only a remembrance when recog- 
 nised as having been an idea before. And it is re- 
 cognised as having been an idea before, by the asso- 
 ciation of that idea, which connects the self of the 
 present moment with the self of the past moment, the 
 remembering self with the conceiving self: in other 
 
336 MEMORY. [chap. X. 
 
 words, the complex idea is made up of those two selfs 
 and the intermediate states of consciousness. 
 
 Another distinction is here suggested between the 
 memory of a sensation and the memory of an idea. 
 The complex idea, which needs to be associated with 
 a mere simple idea, to make it memory, is not the 
 same in the two cases. There is a specific difference. 
 The self which is at the antecedent end of the asso- 
 ciated train, in the case of sensation, is the sentient 
 self; that is, seeing or hearing ; the self at the ante- 
 cedent end of the associated train, in the case of 
 ideas, is not the sentient self, but the conceptive self, 
 self having an idea. But myself percipient, and my- 
 self imagining or conceiving, are two very different 
 states of consciousness : of course the ideas of these 
 states of consciousness, or these states revived by 
 association, are very different ideas. 
 
 The simplest of all cases of memory is that of a 
 sensation immediately past. I have, one sensation, 
 and another sensation ; call them A and B ; and I 
 recognise them as successive. Every man has ex- 
 perience of the fact, and is familiar with it. But not 
 every man can tell what it involves. 
 
 When a sensation ceases, it is as completely gone, 
 as if it had never existed. ^^ It is, in a certain sense, 
 
 ^^ This is a statement that should be qualified. Looking to 
 the change of outward situation, we may say that the difference 
 between ihe present reality, and the idea of it when past, is 
 total and vast : the wide prospect before the eyes at one 
 moment is gone, annihilated, non-existent. But looking at 
 the mental process, we must use more moderate language. 
 The mind does not adapt itself to the new situation with the 
 same rapidity. If one is very much impressed with a picture, 
 
CHAP. X.J MEMORY. 337 
 
 revivr^d again in its idea. But that idea must be 
 called into existence by something with which it is 
 associated. In my two sensations, supposed above, 
 the one antecedent, the other consequent, how do I 
 recognise the succession; if the first is gone, before 
 the coming of the second ? It is evident that it 
 must be by memory. And how by memory ? The 
 preceding developments seem to make the process 
 clear. The consciousness of the present moment calls 
 up the idea of the consciousness of the preceding 
 moment. The consciousness of the present moment 
 is not absolutely simple ; for, whether I haVe a sen- 
 sation or idea, the idea of what I call Myself is always 
 inseparably combined with it. The consciousness, 
 then, of the second of the two moments in the case 
 supposed, is the sensation combined with the idea of 
 Myself, which compound I call *' Myself Sentient/' 
 This ''Self Sentient," in other words sensation B, com- 
 bined with the idea of self, calls up the idea of 
 sensation A combined with the idea of self This we 
 call Memory ; and, there being no intermediate hiik, 
 immediate memory. Suppose that, instead of two 
 sensations, there had been three, A, B, C. In order 
 
 one maintains the rapt attitude for a little time, after the pic- 
 ture is withdrawn, and only by degrees loses the hold in 
 favour of the next thing presented to the view. It is possible 
 for us to resist the solicitation of the actual scene, and to be 
 absorbed to the full measure of actuality by something no 
 longer actual. The immediate past may still divide the empire 
 with the present. The psychological transition follows a 
 different law from the objective transition : a circumstance in 
 no small degree involved in the subtle question of our mental 
 continuity or personal identity. — B. 
 VOL. I. Z 
 
338 MEMORY. [chap. X. 
 
 to remember A, it is necessary to step over B. The 
 consciousness of the third moment, namely, ''sensa- 
 tion C, united with the idea of self," calls up the 
 idea of '' sensation A, united with the idea of self," 
 and along with this the intermediate state of con- 
 sciousness, '^B, with the constant concomitant self" 
 If the intermediate state, B, were not included, the 
 sensation A would appear to have immediately pre- 
 ceded sensation 0, and the memory would be in- 
 accurate. 
 
 We have thus carried the analysis of Memory to a 
 certain point. We have found the association to 
 consist of three parts ; the remembering self; the 
 remembered self; and the train which intervened. 
 Of these three parts, the last has been fuUy expounded. 
 The recalling of the successive states of consciousness, 
 which composed the intervening train, is an ordinary 
 case of association. The other parts, the two seljs, at the 
 two extremities of this train, require further considera- 
 tion. The self, at the first end, is the remembered 
 self; the self which had a sensation^ or an idea. The 
 idea of this self, therefore, consists of two parts : of 
 self, and a sensation, or an idea. The last- mentioned 
 part of this combination, the sensation or idea, needs 
 no explanation ; the first, that which is called self, 
 does. The self at the other extremity of the chain of 
 consciousness, is the reynembering self. Remembering 
 is associating. The idea of this self, then, is the 
 combination of self with the idea of associating. And 
 here, too, associating needs no explanation ; it is 
 the other part of the combination that does. The 
 analysis, then, of self, or the account of what 
 is included in that state of consciousness commonly 
 
CHAP. X.] MEMORY. 339 
 
 call'ed the idea of personal identity^ is still wanting 
 to: the complete developeraent of Memory. 
 
 Philosophers tell us also, that the idea of Time is 
 included in every act of memory ; and again, that it 
 is from memory we obtain our idea of Time: thus 
 asserting that the idea of Time must precede memory, 
 and that memory must precede the idea of Time. 
 These contradicting propositions imply that the idea 
 of Time in the minds of those who make them, is a 
 very confused idea. Nevertheless, as there can be no 
 memory without the idea called Time, the exposition 
 of that idea, likewise, is necessary to the full under- 
 standing of Memory. 
 
 The idea of personal Identity, and the idea of 
 Time, two very remarkable states of consciousness, 
 will be very carefully examined hereafter. But for 
 the more ready understanding of what is necessary to 
 be adduced in expounding those complicated cases of 
 association, some other phenomena of the mind will 
 first be explained. 
 
 What is to be understood by that celief which is 
 said to accompany memory, will be seen in the next 
 chapter, where all the different cases of belief will be 
 resolved into their elements.^* 
 
 ^* The only difficulty about Memory, when once the laws of 
 Association are understood, is the difference between it and 
 Imagination ; but this is a difference which will probably long 
 continue to perplex philosophers. The author finds in Memory, 
 besides the idea of the fact remembered, two other ideas : " the 
 idea of my present self, the remembering self, and the idea of 
 my past self, the remembered or witnessing self :'' and a sup- 
 posed rapid repetition in thought, of the whole of the impres- 
 sions which I received between the time remembered and the 
 
 z 2 
 
340 MEMORY. [chap. X. 
 
 time of remembering. But (apart from the question whether 
 we really do repeat in thought, however summarily, all this 
 series) explaining memory by Self seems very like explaining 
 a thing by the thing. For what notion of Self can we have, 
 apart from Memory ? The fact of remembering^ i.e. of having 
 an idea combined with the belief that the corresponding sen- 
 sation was actually felt hy me, seems to be the very elementary 
 fact of Self, the origin and foundation of the idea; presupposed 
 in our having the very complex notion of a Self, which is here 
 introduced to explain it. As, however, the author admits that 
 the phenomenon of Belief, and the notions of Time and of 
 Personal Identity, must be taken into account in order to give 
 a complete explanation of Memory, any further remarks had 
 better be deferred until these subjects have been regularly 
 brought under our consideration. — Ed. 
 
CHAP. XI.] BEUEF. 341 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 BELIEF. 
 
 ^' Cette recherche peut infiniment contribuer aux progrea de 
 Tart de raisonner; elle le peut seule developper jusques dana ses 
 premiers priucipea. En effet, nous ne decouvrirons pas une 
 maniere sure de conduire constamment nos pensees ; si nous ne 
 Savons pas comment elles se sent formees." — Condillac, Traite 
 des Sensations, p. 460. 
 
 It is not easy to treat of memory, belief, and 
 JUDGMENT, separately. For, in the rude and unskilful 
 manner in which naming has been performed, the 
 states of consciousness, marked by those terms, are 
 not separate and distinct. 
 
 Part of that which is named by memory is in- 
 cluded under the term belief ; and paxt of that 
 which is named by Judgment, is also included under 
 the name belief. Belief, therefore, instead of having 
 a distinct province to itself, encroaches on the pro- 
 vinces both of MEMORY, and judgment ; from which 
 great confusion has arisen. 
 
 I take MEMORY first, and judgment last, from no 
 other principle of arrangement, than facility of exposi- 
 
342 BELIEF. [chap. xi. 
 
 tion ; and I have in this way found it convenient to 
 treat of judgment as a case of belief.*' 
 
 We begin as usual with the simplest cases. These 
 are, the case of a simple sensation, and the case of a 
 simple idea. When we have a sensation, we believe 
 that we have it ; when we have an idea, we believe 
 that we have it. 
 
 But, to have a sensation^ and to believe that we have 
 it, are not distinguishable things. When I say *' I 
 have a sensation," and say, '' I beheve that I have 
 it," I do not espress two states of consciousness, but 
 one and the same state. A sensation is a feeling ; 
 but a feeling, and the belief of it are the same thing. 
 The observation applies equally to ideas. When I 
 say I have the idea of the sun, I express the 
 same thing exactly, as when I say, that I believe I 
 have it. The feeling is one, the names, only, are 
 two.^^ " 
 
 ^^ How is it possible to treat of Belief without including in 
 it Memory and Judgment? Memory is a case of belief. In 
 what does Memory differ from Imagination, except in the belief 
 that what it represents did rtally take place? Judgment, in 
 its popular acceptation, is Belief resulting from deliberate 
 examination, in other words, Belief grounded on evidence : 
 while in its philosophical sense it is coextensive, if not syno- 
 nymous, with Belief itself. I do not know how it is possible to 
 distinguish a judgment from any other process of the mind, 
 except by its being an act of belief. — Ed. 
 
 ^^ In the case of a present reality, belief has no place \ it 
 can be introduced only by a fiction or a figure. The believing 
 state comes into operation when something thought of is still 
 remote, and attainable by an intermediate exertion. The fact 
 *' I see the sun" is full fruition : the fact that I can see the 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 343 
 
 It may be alleged that, when 1 say " I have a 
 sensation," I express the simple feeling, as derived 
 from the outward sense ; but that when I say '' I 
 believe I have a sensation," I express two things, the 
 simple sensation, and the association with it, of that 
 remarkable idea, the idea of myself. The association, 
 however, is the same in both cases. As I never have 
 the sensation of an object, the sight, for example, of 
 a rose, without associating with it, the idea of posi- 
 tion, and also that of unity ; nor the idea of such an 
 object, without the same association ; so I never have 
 a sensation, nor the idea of that sensation, without 
 associating with it, the idea of myself And in both 
 cases, the associations are of that remarkable class, 
 which we have denominated inseparable. It is not 
 in our power to prevent them. Whensoever the per- 
 ception of the object exists, the idea of its position is 
 sure to exist along with it ; whensoever one of my 
 sensations exists, the idea of myself exists along with 
 
 sun by going out of doors affords scope for belief or dis- 
 belief.— 5. 
 
 ^'^ The difference between Mr. Bain and the author is but in 
 language and classification. It is necessary for the reader of 
 the Analysis to remember, that the author uses the word Belief 
 as the most general term for every species of conviction or 
 assurance ; the assurance of what is before our eyes, as well as 
 of that which we only remember or expect ; of what we know 
 by direct perception, as well as of what we accept on the evi- 
 dence of testimony or of reasoning : all this we are convinced 
 or persuaded of; all this, in the author's language, we believe. 
 Mr. Bain, on the other hand, like Sir William Hamilton and 
 many others, restricts the term to those cases of conviction 
 which are short of direct intuition. — Ed. 
 
344 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 it ; whensoever one of my ideas exists, the idea of 
 myself is sure to exist along with it. 
 
 In the case, then, of a present sensation, and that 
 of a present idea ; the sensation, and the belief of the 
 sensation ; the idea, and the belief of the idea, are 
 not two things ; they are, in each case, one and the 
 same thing ; a single thing, with a double name. 
 
 The several cases of BeHef may be considered 
 under three heads : I., Belief in events, real exis- 
 tences; II., Belief in testimony; and III., Belief 
 in the truth of propositions. We shall consider 
 them in their order ; and first, Behef in events, real 
 existences. 
 
 I. This is subdivided into three distinct cases : 1, 
 Belief in pi-esent events ; 2, Belief in past events; 3, 
 Behef in future events. 
 
 1 . Belief in present events, again, is divided into 
 two cases : 1, Belief in immediate existences present 
 to my senses ; 2, Belief in immediate existences not 
 present to my senses. 
 
 Behef in existences present to my senses, includes, 
 for one element, belief in my sensations ; and belief 
 in my sensations, as we have just observed, is only 
 another name for having the sensations. 
 
 But belief in the external objects, is not simply be- 
 lief in my present sensations ; it is this, and some- 
 thing more. The something more, is now the object 
 of our inquiry. I see, for example, arose : my sensa- 
 tion is a sensation of sight ; that of a certain modifi- 
 cation of hght ; but my belief of the rose is not this ; 
 it is this, and much more. 
 
 Besides the sensation of colour, I have, for one 
 thing, the belief of a certain distance, at which I see 
 
CHAP. XI.J BELIEF. 345 
 
 the rose ; and that of a certain figure, consisting of 
 leaves disposed in a certain form. I believe that I 
 see this distance and form ; in other words, perceive 
 it by the eye, as immediately as I perceive the colour. 
 Now this last part of the process has been explained 
 by various philosophers. There is no dispute, or un- 
 certainty, about the matter. All men admit, that 
 this, one of the most remarkable of all cases of belief, 
 is wholly resolvable into association." It is acknow- 
 ledged, that, by the sense of sight, we receive no 
 sensation but that of a certain modification of light. 
 It is equally proved, that the sensations from which 
 our ideas of distance and figure are derived, are sensa- 
 tions of the muscular actions and touch. How, then, 
 is the Belief generated, that we see extension and 
 figure, as well as colour ? After the experience the 
 learner has now had in tracing the rapid combina- 
 tions of the mind, this presents but little difficulty. 
 He knows, that when we are receiving through the 
 muscles and the touch, the sensations which yield us 
 the idea of extension and figure, we are receiving the 
 sensations of sight at the same time, from the same 
 objects. The sensations of sight, therefore, are asso- 
 
 ^^ "All men admit." Certainly not all men ; though, at the 
 time when the author wrote, it might be said, with some plau- 
 sibility, all psychologists. Unfortunately this can no longer 
 be said : Mr. Samuel Bailey has demanded a rehearing of the 
 question, and has pronounced a strong and reasoned opinion 
 on the contrary side ; and his example has been followed by 
 several other writers: but without, in my opinion, at all weaken- 
 ing the position which since the publication of Berkeley's 
 Essay on Vision, had been almost unanimously maintained by 
 philosophers. — Ed. 
 
346 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 ciated with the ideas of these tactile and muscular 
 sensations ; and associated in the most perfect possible 
 manner; because the conjunction is almost invariable, 
 and of incessant occurrence, durmg the whole period 
 of life. We are perpetually feeling, and seeing, the 
 same objects, at the same time ; so much so, that our 
 lives may be said to consist of those sensations in 
 union ; to consist, at least to a. far greater degree, of 
 this, than of any one other state of consciousness. 
 
 This intensity of association, we know, produces 
 two effects. One, is to blend the associated feehngs 
 so intimately together, that they no longer appear 
 many, but one feeling. The other is, to render 
 the combination inseparable ; so that if one of the 
 feelings exist, the others necessarily exist along 
 with it. 
 
 The case of association which we are now con- 
 sidering, brings to view another circumstance, of some 
 importance m tracing the effects of this great law of 
 our nature. It is this : that in any associated cluster, 
 the idea of sight is almost always the prevalent part. 
 The visible idea is that which takes the lead, as it 
 were; and serves as the suggesting principle to the 
 rest. So it happens in the combination of the sensa- 
 tions of colour, with those of extension and figure : 
 the visible idea stands foremost ; and calls up the rest. 
 It calls them up also with such intensity, that both 
 the remarkable cases of association are exemplified. 
 Whenever we have the sensation of colour, we can- 
 not avoid having the ideas of distance, of extension, 
 and figure, along with it ; nor can we avoid having 
 them in such intimate union with the ocular sensa- 
 tion, that they appear to be that sensation itself. 
 
CHAP. XI J BELIEF. 347 
 
 This is the whole of what is ever supposed to be in 
 the case. Of no phenomenon of the human mind is 
 the developement more complete or more important. 
 Our belief that we see the shape, and size, and dis- 
 tance of the object we look at, is as perfect as belief 
 in any instance can be. But this belief is nothing 
 more than a case of very close association. 
 
 The case of belief by association, any one may illus- 
 trate further, for himself, by recollecting some of the 
 commonest cases of optical deception. If we look at 
 a landscape with the naked eye, we believe the several 
 objects before us, the men, the animals, the trees, the 
 houses, the hills, to be at certain distances. If we 
 next look at them through a telescope, they seem as 
 if they were brought near; we have the distinct belief 
 of their proximity, and though abelief immediately cor- 
 rected by accompanying reflection, it is not only belief, 
 but a belief that we can by no means shake off. We 
 can, after this, invert the telescope, and then we can- 
 not help believing, that the nearest objects are re- 
 moved to a distance. Now what is it that the telescope 
 performs in these two instances ? It modifies in a 
 certain manner the rays of light to the eye. The rays, 
 proceeding from the objects, are so distributed on the 
 eye, as they would be if the distance of the objects 
 was less, or greater. Instantly we have the belief 
 that it is less or greater; because, the sensation of the 
 eye, by means of the glass, is made to resemble that 
 which it receives, when objects are seen at a smaller 
 or greater distance ; and each of the sensations calls 
 up that idea of distance which is habitually associated 
 with it. 
 
 We have thus far proceeded, with some certainty. 
 
348 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 in detecting the component parts of that which we 
 call our "belief in the existence of external objects." 
 We have taken account of the sensation from which 
 is derived the visible idea, of the sensations from 
 which are derived the ideas of position, extension, and 
 figure ; and we have explained the intimate combina- 
 tion of those two sets of ideas by association. But 
 these, though the leading sensations and ideas, are 
 not the only ones. There are, besides, the sensations 
 from which we derive the idea of resistance, in all its 
 modifications, from that of air, to that of adamant. 
 There are also sensations which are not common to 
 all objects, but peculiar to some ; as smell, peculiar to 
 odorous bodies; taste, to sapid; and sound, to sonorous 
 ones. 
 
 Now, though the most remarkable case of the asso- 
 ciations among those feelings, is that between colour, 
 and extension and figure, they are all blended by 
 association into one idea ; which, though in reality a 
 cluster of ideas, affects us in the same manner as if it 
 were a single idea ; an idea, the parts of which we 
 detect by an analysis, which it requires some training 
 to be able to make. 
 
 With the colour of the rose, the size and figure of 
 the rose, — which are the predominant ideas, — I asso- 
 ciate the idea of that modification of hardness and 
 softness, which belongs to the rose ; its degree of re- 
 sistance, in short ; also its smell, and its taste. These 
 associations have been formed, as other associations 
 a,re, by repetition. I have had so uniformly the sight, 
 along with the handling, these, along with the smell, 
 and the taste — of the rose, that they are always called 
 up together, and in the closest combination. 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 349 
 
 Now then let us ask, what we mean, when we 
 affirm, that the rose exists. In this meaning are un- 
 doubtedly included the above sensations, in a certain 
 order. I see the rose on the garden wall, and I affirm 
 that it exists : that is, along with my present sensa- 
 tion, the sight of the rose, I have the ideas of a certain 
 order of other sensations. These are, first, the idea of 
 distance, that is, the idea of the feelings involved in 
 the act of going to the rose : after this, the idea of the 
 feelings in handling it ; then in smelhng, then in 
 tasting it ; all springing up by association with the 
 sight of the rose. It is said, we believe we should 
 ha,ve these sensations. That is, we have the idea 
 of these sensations inseparably united one with the 
 other, and inseparably united with the idea of our- 
 selves as having them. That this alone constitutes 
 belief, in the remarkable case of the association 
 of extension and figure with the sensations of sight, 
 has already been seen ; that this alone constitutes 
 it, in many other remarkable cases, will be seen as 
 we proceed ; and in no case can it be shewn, that 
 any thing more is included in it. 
 
 In my belief, then, of the existence of an object, 
 there is included the belief, that, in such and such 
 circumstances, I should have such and such sensations. 
 Is there any thing more ? It will be answered im- 
 mediately, yes : for that, along with belief in my 
 sensations as the effect, there is belief of something as 
 the cause ; and that to the cause, not to the effect, the 
 name object is appropriated. 
 
 This is a case of Belief, which deserves the greatest 
 possible attention. It is acknowledged, on all hands, 
 that we know nothing of objects ; but the sensations 
 
350 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 we have from them. There is a cause, however, of 
 those sensations, and to that we give the name object : 
 or, rather, there is a cluster of causes, corresponding 
 with the cluster of sensations. Thus, when I see, and 
 handle, and smell, and taste the rose, there is a cause 
 of the sensation red, a cause of the sensation soft, a 
 cause of the sensation round, a cause of the smell, and 
 a cause of the taste ; and all these causes are united 
 in the rose. But what is the rose, beside the colour, 
 the form, and so on ? Not knowing what it is, but 
 supposing it to be something, we invent a name 
 to stand for it. We call it a substratum. This 
 substratum, when closely examined, is not dis- 
 tinguishable from Cause. It is the cause of the 
 qualities ; that is, the cause of the causes of our sen- 
 sations. The association, then, is this. To each of 
 the sensations we have from a particular object, we 
 annex in our imagination, a cause ; and to these 
 several causes we annex a cause, common to all, and 
 mark it with the name substratum. 
 
 This curious case of association we now proceed to 
 develop. The word cause, means the antecedent of a 
 consequent, where the connection is constant. This 
 has been established on such perfect evidence, that it 
 is a received principle of philosophy. More of the 
 evidence of this important principle will appear as we 
 go on. Here we shall take the proposition for 
 
 granted. 
 
 Not only are we, during the whole period of our lives, 
 witnesses of an incessant train of events ; that is, of 
 antecedents and consequents, between which, for the 
 greater part, the order is constant; but these constant 
 conjunctions are, of all things in the world, what we are 
 
CHAP. XI.J BELIEF. 351 
 
 the most der»ply interested in observing; for, on the 
 knowledge of them, all our power of obtaining good 
 and avoiding evil depends. From this, it necessarily 
 follows, that between none of our ideas is the associa-»/ 
 tion more intimate and intense, than between ante- 
 cedent and consequent, in the order of events. When- 
 ever we perceive an event, the mind instantly flies to 
 its antecedent. I hear words in the street; event: 
 some one, of course, is making them ; antecedent. My 
 house is broken, and my goods are gone; event: a 
 thief has taken them; antecedent This is that re- 
 markable case of association, in which the combina- 
 tion is inseparable ; a case of so much importance in 
 explaining some of the more mysterious phenomena 
 of thought. Other instances of this remarkable phe- 
 nomenon, to which we have already had occasion to 
 advert, are, the sight of an object, and the ideas of its 
 distance, its extension, and figure ; the idea of colour, 
 and the idea of extension ; the idea of an object, and 
 the idea of position and unity ; the idea of one of my 
 sensations, and the idea of myself. In no instance is 
 this inseparable association more perfect, or its con- 
 sequences more important, than in that between an 
 event, and its antecedent. We cannot think of the 
 one without thinking of the other. The two ideas 
 are: forced upon us at the same time; and by no effort 
 of ours can they be disjoined. So necessarily, from 
 the first moment of experience, are we employed in 
 observing the constant coDJunctions of events ; and so 
 deeply are we interested, in looking out for, and 
 knowing the constant antecedent of every event, that 
 the association becomes part of our being. The per- 
 ception, or the idea, of an event, instantly brings up 
 
352 BELIEF. [chap. XT. 
 
 the idea of its constant antecedent ; definite and clear, 
 if the antecedent is known ; and indefinite and 
 obscure, if it is unknown. Still, the idea of an event, 
 of a change, without the idea of its cause, is impos- 
 sible. That a cause means, and can mean nothing to 
 the human mind, but constant antecedent, is no longer 
 a point in dispute/^ 
 
 Of this remarkable case of association, that which 
 we call '* Our Belief in External Objects" is one of 
 the most remarkable instances. Of the sensations, of 
 sight, of handling, of smell, of taste, which I have from 
 a rose, each is an event ; with each of those events, I 
 associate the idea of a constant antecedent, a cause ; 
 that cause unknown, but furnished with a name, by 
 which it may be spoken of, namely, quality ; the 
 quality of red, the cause of the sensation red ; the 
 quahties of consistence, extension and figure, the 
 causes of the sensations of handling ; the qualities 
 of smell and taste, the causes of the sensations of 
 smell and taste. Such is one part of the process of 
 association in this case. Another is that by which 
 the ideas of those sensations are so intimately united, 
 as to appear not several ideas, but one idea, the idea of 
 a rose. We have now two steps of association ; that 
 
 ^^ Here again the author takes too sanguine a view of the 
 amount of agreement hitherto attained among metaphysical 
 philosophers. " That a cause means, and can mean, nothing 
 to the human mind but constant antecedent" is so far from 
 being " no longer a point in dispute" that it is denied with vehe- 
 mence by a large numerical majority of philosophers ; and its 
 denial is perhaps the principal badge of one of the two schools 
 which at this, as at most other times, bisect the philosophical 
 world — the intuitional school and the experiential — Ed, 
 
CHAP. XI. J BELIEF. 353 
 
 of the several sensations into one idea ; that of the 
 several sensations each with a separate cause. But we 
 do not stop here ; for, as in a train of events, consisting 
 of several links, A, B, C, D, and so on, though C is 
 the antecedent or cause of D, it is itself the conse- 
 quent or effect of B ; and in all cases, when we have 
 found the cause of any particular event, we have still 
 to find out what was the cause of that cause. In this 
 manner, when our habit of association has carried us 
 from our sensations to the causes of them, the same 
 habit carries us still farther. 
 
 As each of our sensations must have a cause, to 
 which, as unknown, we give the name quality ] so 
 each of those qualities must have a cause. And as 
 the ideas of a number of sensations, concomitant in a 
 certaia way, are combined into a single idea ; as that 
 of rose, that of apple ; the unity, which is thus given 
 to the effects, is of course transferred to the supposed 
 causes, called qualities : they are referred to a common 
 cause. To this supposed cause of supposed causes, 
 we give a name ; and that name is the word Sub- 
 stratum. 
 
 It is obvious, that there is no reason for stopping 
 at this Substratum ; for, as the sensation suggested the 
 quahty, the quality the substratum, the substratum as 
 properly leads to another antecedent, another sub- 
 stratum, and so on, from substratum to substratum, 
 without end. These inseparable associations, how- 
 ever, rarely go beyond a single step, hardly ever beyond 
 two. The Barbarian, in accounting for the support of 
 the earth, placed it on the back of a great elephant, 
 and the great elephant on the back of a great 
 tortoise ; but neither himself, nor those whom he 
 
 VOL. L A A 
 
354 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 instructed, were carried by tteir habits of association 
 any farther. "° 
 
 Such appear to be the elements included in our 
 belief of the existence of objects acting on our senses. 
 We have next to unfold the case of belief in the 
 present existence of objects not acting on our senses. 
 
 Of this Behef, there are two cases : 1, BeHef in the 
 existence of objects, which we have not perceived ; 2, 
 BeUef in the existence of objects, which we have per- 
 ceived. 
 
 The first of these, is a case of the Behef in testi- 
 mony ; which is to be explained hereafter. What 
 we are to examine at the present moment, then, is, our 
 Behef in the existence of objects, which, though not 
 
 ^^° It is a question worth considering, why that demand for 
 a cause of everything, which has led to the invention of so 
 many fabulous or fictitious causes, so generally stops short at 
 the first step, without going on to imagine a cause of the 
 cause. But this is quite in the ordinary course of human pro- 
 ceedings. It is no more than we should expect, that these 
 frivolous speculations should be subject to the same limitations 
 as reasonable ones. Even in the region of positive facts — in 
 the explaining of phenomena by real, not imaginary, causes — 
 the first semblance of an explanation generally sufiices to satisfy 
 the curiosity which prompts the inquiry. The things men 
 first care to inquire about are those which meet their senses, 
 and among which they live ; of these they feel curious as to 
 the origin, and look out for a cause, even if it be but an ab- 
 straction. But the cause once found, or imagined, and the 
 familiar fact no longer perplexing them with the feeling of an 
 unsolved enigma, they do not, unless unusually possessed by 
 the speculative spirit, occupy their minds with the unfamiliar 
 antecedent sufficiently to be troubled respecting it with any of 
 the corresponding perplexity. — Ed, 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 355 
 
 now present to our senses, have been so at a previous 
 time. Thus, I believe in the present existence of St. 
 Paul's, which I saw this morning. 
 
 In tracing the elements of this Belief, it is obvious, 
 in the first place, that in so far as it is founded on 
 my past sensations, memory is concerned in it. But 
 Memory relates to past events, Belief in which, is to 
 be considered under a following head. This part of 
 the development, therefore, we postpone. 
 
 But, beside Memory, what other element is con- 
 cerned in it ? There is evidently an anticipation of 
 the future. In believing that St. Pauls exists, I 
 believe, that whenever I am in the same situation, in 
 which I had perception of it before, I shall have per- 
 ception of it again. But this Belief in future events, 
 is also a case, which remains to be considered under 
 a subsequent head. This, therefore, is another part 
 of the development, which must be postponed. 
 
 I not only believe, that I shall see St. Paul's, when 
 I am again in St. Paul's Churchyard ; but I believe, 
 I should see it if I were in St. Paul's Churchyard this 
 instant. This, too, is also a case, of the anticipation 
 of the future from the past, and will come to be 
 considered under the subsequent head already re- 
 ferred to. 
 
 Besides these cases, the only one which remains to 
 be considered, is, my Belief that, if any creature whose 
 senses are analogous to my own, is now in St. Paul's 
 Churchyard, it has the present sensation of that 
 edifice. 
 
 My belief in the sensations of other creatures, is 
 wholly derived from my experience of my own sen- 
 sations. The question is. How it is derived. That 
 
 A A 2 
 
356 BELIEF. [chap. xr. 
 
 it is an inference from similitude, will not be denied. 
 But what is an inference from similitude 1 
 
 I have no direct knowledge of any feelings but my 
 own. How is it, then, that I proceed ? 
 
 There are certain things which I consider as marks 
 or signs of sensations in other creatures. The Belief 
 follows the signs, and with a force, not exceeded in 
 any other instance. But the interpretation of signs 
 is wholly a case of association, as the extraordinary 
 phenomena of language abundantly testify. ^"^^ And 
 whenever the association, between the sign and the 
 
 ^^^ This is true in by far the greater number of instances. 
 Nevertheless, there are some of the signs of feeling that have 
 an intrinsic efficacy, on very manifest grounds. While the 
 meanings of the smile and the frown could have been reversed, 
 if the association had been the other way, there is an obvious 
 suitability in the harsh stunning tones of the voice to signify 
 anger and to inspire dread, and a like suitability in the gentle 
 tones to convey affection aud kindly feeling. We might have 
 contracted the opposing associations, had the facts been so 
 arranged, just as in times of peace, we associate joy with 
 deafening salvos of artillery ; and as loud, sharp-pealing 
 laughter serves in the expression of agreeable feeling. But 
 there is a gain of effect when the signs employed are such as 
 to chime in, by intrinsic efficacy, with the associated mean- 
 ings. On this coincidence depend the refinements of elocu- 
 tion, oratory, and stage display. — B. 
 
 [The fact here brought to notice by Mr. Bain is, that cer- 
 tain of the natural expressions of emotion have a kind of 
 analogy to the emotions they express, which makes an openino- 
 for an instinctive interpretation of them, independently of ex- 
 perience. But if this be so (and there can be little doubt that 
 it is so; the suggestion takes place by resemblance, and there- 
 fore still by association. — Ed.] 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 357 
 
 thing signified, is sufficiently strong to become inse- 
 parable, it is belief. Thus, rude and ignorant people, 
 to whom the existence of but one language is known, 
 believe the name by which they have always called an 
 object to belong to it naturally, as much as its shape, 
 its colour, or its smell. "^'^ Thus the perceptions of 
 sight, mere signs of distance, magnitude, and figure, v- 
 are followed by belief of the sight of them. And it 
 is remarked, with philosophical accuracy, by Condillac, 
 that if our constitution had been such, as to give us, 
 instead of a different modification of sight, a different 
 modification of smell, with each variety of distance, 
 extension, and figure, we should have smelt distance, 
 extension and figure, in the same manner as, by the 
 actual conformation of our organs, we see them. Nor 
 can we doubt the truth of the ingenious observation 
 of Diderot, that if we had seen, and heard, and tasted, 
 and smelt, at the ends of our fingers, in the same 
 manner as we feel, we should have believed our mind 
 to be in the fingers, as we now believe it to be in the 
 head. 
 
 The process of our Behef in this case, then, is 
 evidently, as follows. Our sensations are inseparably 
 associated with the idea of our bodies. A man cannot 
 think of his body without thinking of it as sensitive. 
 As he cannot think of his own body without thinking 
 of it as sensitive, so he cannot think of another man's 
 
 *" It has been very jastly remarked, that if all men had 
 uniformly spoken the same language, in every part of the 
 world, it would be difficult for us not to think [believe] that 
 there is a natural connexion of our ideas, and the words which 
 •we use to denote them." — Brown, Lectures, ii. p. 80. 2d ed. 
 
358 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 body, which is hke it, without thinking of it as sen- 
 sitive. It is evident that the association of sensitive- 
 ness, is more close with certain parts of the complex 
 idea, our bodies, than with other parts ; because the 
 association equally follows the idea of horse, of dog, 
 of fowl, and even of fish, and insect : and it will be 
 found, I think, that there is nothing with which it is 
 so peculiarly united as the idea of spontaneous motion. 
 What is the reason we do not believe there is any 
 sensation in the most curiously- organized vegetable ; 
 while we uniformly believe there is in the polypus, 
 and the microscopic insect ? Nothing whatsoever can 
 be discovered, but a strong association which exists 
 in the one case, and is wanting in the other. And 
 this is one of the most decisive of all experiments to 
 prove the real nature of Belief 
 
 As, then, our belief in the sensations of other crea- 
 tures is derived wholly from the inseparable association 
 between our own sensations and the idea of our own 
 bodies, it is apparent that the case in which I beheve 
 other creatures to be immediately percipient of objects, 
 of which I believe that I myself should be percipient 
 if I were so situated as they are, resolves itself ulti- 
 mately into this particular case of my behef in certain 
 conditional sensations of my own. This, again, as we 
 have seen above, resolves itself into that other im- 
 portant law of Belief, which we are shortly to con- 
 sider, the anticipation of the future from the past. 
 
 2. It comes next in order, that we notice our Belief 
 in past existences ; that is, our present belief, that 
 something had a present existence at a previous time. 
 
 Much of the development of this case is included 
 in the expositions already afforded. Our present 
 
CHAP. XI.J BELIEF. 359 
 
 belief, means, for one thing, a present idea ; our pre- 
 sent belief of an existence, the idea of something 
 existing. Of what associations the idea of something 
 existing consists, we have just ascertained. Our pre- 
 sent belief of a past existence, then, consists of our 
 present idea of something existing, and the assign- 
 ment of it to a previous time. 
 
 There are two cases of this assignment ; one, in 
 which the thing in question had been the object of 
 our senses ; another, in which it had not been the 
 object of our senses. 
 
 When the thing, the existence of which we assign 
 to a previous time, had been the object of our senses, 
 and when the time to which we assign it is the time 
 when it had so been the object of our senses, the whole 
 is Memory. In this case. Memory, and Behef, are 
 but two names for the same thing. Memory is, in fact, 
 a case of Belief Belief is a general word. Memory is 
 one of the species included under it. Memory is the ^ 
 belief of a past existence, as Sensation is the belief of a 
 present existence. When I say, that I remember the 
 burning of Drury-Lane Theatre; the rememhering . 
 the event, and believing the event, are not distinguish- 
 able feelings, they are one and the same feeling, 
 which we have two ways of naming. The associa- 
 tions included in Memory we have already endeavoured 
 to trace. It is a case of that indissoluble connexion 
 of id^as which we have found in the preceduag article 
 to constitute belief in present existences. When I 
 remember the burning of Drury-Lane Theatre, what 
 happens ? We can mark the following parts of the 
 process. First, the idea of that event is called up by 
 association ; in other words, the copies of the sensa- 
 
360 BELIEF. [chap. XT. 
 
 tions I then had, closely combined by association. 
 
 Next, the idea of the sensations calls up the idea of 
 myself as sentient ; and that, so instantly and forcibly, 
 that it is altogether out of my power to separate 
 them. But when the idea of a sensation forces upon 
 me, whether I will or no, the idea of myself as that 
 of which it was the sensation, I remember the sensa-^ 
 tion. It is in this process that memory consists ; and 
 the memory is the Belief. No obscurity rests on any 
 part of this pi-ocess, except the idea of self, which is 
 reserved for future analysis. The fact, in the mean 
 time, is indisputable ; that, when the idea of a sensa- 
 tion, which I have formerly had, is revived in me by 
 association, if it calls up in close association the idea 
 of myself, there is memory; if it does not call up that 
 idea, there is not memory ; if it calls up the idea of 
 myself, it calls up the idea of that train of states of 
 consciousness which constitutes the thread of my ex- 
 istence ; if it does not call up the idea of myself, it 
 does not call up the idea of that train, but some other 
 idea. A sensation remembered, then, is a sensation 
 placed, by association, as the consequent of one feeling 
 and the antecedent of another, in that train of 
 feelings which constitute the existence of a con- 
 scious being. All this will be more evident, when 
 what is included in the notion of Personal Identity 
 is fully evolved. 
 
 The case of Belief in past existences which have not 
 been the object of our senses, resolves itself into the 
 belief, either of testimony, or of the uniformity of 
 the laws of nature ; both of which will, after a few 
 intervening expositions, be fully explained. 
 
 3. The process which we denote by the words. 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 361 
 
 *' Belief in future events/' deserves, on account of its 
 importance, to be very carefully considered. That it 
 is a complex process, will very speedily appear. Our 
 endeavour shall be to resolve it into its elements ; in 
 doing which, we shall see whether it consists wholly 
 of the elements with which we have now become 
 familiar, or whether it is necessary to admit the ex- 
 istence of something else. 
 
 I beheve that, to-morrow, the light of day will be 
 spread over England ] that the tide will ebb and flow 
 at London-bridge ; that men, and houses, and waggons, 
 and carriages, will be seen in the streets of this me- 
 tropolis ; that ships will sail, and coaches arrive ; that 
 shops will be opened for their customers, manufac- 
 tories for their workmen, and that the Exchange will, 
 at a certain hour, be crowded with merchants. Now, 
 in all this, what is involved ? 
 
 First of all, in the Belief of any future event, there 
 is, of course, involved the idea of the event. It will 
 be immediately understood, from what has been 
 already adduced, that there can be no Belief in any 
 existence, without an idea of that existence. If I 
 believe in the light of day to-morrow, I must have an 
 idea of it ; if I believe in the flux and reflux of the 
 water at London-bridge, I must have ideas of those 
 several objects ; and so of all other things. 
 
 In the next place ; as it has already been shewn, 
 that we cannot call up any idea by willing it ; and 
 that none of our ideas comes into existence but by 
 association ; the idea which forms the fundamental 
 part of Belief, is produced by association. Ideas 
 and association, then, are necessary parts of 
 behef 
 
362 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 But there can be no idea of the ftiture ; because, 
 strictly speaking, the future is a nonentity. Of 
 nothing there can be no idea. It is true we can have 
 an idea of tha-t which never existed, and which we do 
 not suppose ever will exist, as of a centaur ; but this 
 is a composition of the ideas of things which have 
 existed. We can conceive a sea of milk, because we 
 have seen a sea, and milk ; a mountain of gold, be- 
 cause we have seen a mountain, and gold. In the 
 same manner we proceed with what we call the future. 
 The ideas which I have recently enumerated as parts 
 of my belief of to-morrow ; the light of day, the 
 throng in the streets, the motion of the tide at 
 London-bridge, are all ideas of the past. The general 
 fact, indeed, is not a matter of dispute. Our idea of 
 the future, and our idea of the past, is the same ; with 
 this difference, that it is accompanied with retrospec- 
 tion in the one case, anticipation in the other. What 
 retrospection is, we have already examined. It is 
 Memory. What Anticipation is, we are now to 
 inquire ; and to that end it is necessary to recall, 
 distinctly, some important facts which we have 
 already established. 
 
 The fundamental law of association is, that when 
 two things have been frequently found together, we 
 never perceive or think of the one without thinking 
 of the other. If the visible idea of a rose occurs to 
 me, the idea of its smell occurs along with it ; if the 
 idea of the sound of a drum occurs to me, the visible 
 idea of that instrument occurs along with it. 
 
 Of these habitual conjunctions, there is none with 
 which we are more incessantly occupied, from the 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 363 
 
 first moment of our existence to the last, and in which 
 we are more deeply interested, than that of ante- 
 cedent and consequent. Of course there is none be- 
 tween the ideas of which the association is more 
 intimate and intense. 
 
 In fact, our whole lives are but a series of changes ; 
 that is, of antecedents and consequents. The con- 
 junction, therefore, is incessant ; and, of course, the 
 union of the ideas perfectly inseparable. We can no 
 more have the idea of an event without having the 
 ideas of its antecedent and it consequents, than we' 
 can have the idea and not have it at the same time. 
 It is utterly impossible for me to have the visible 
 idea of a rose, without the idea of its having grown 
 from the ground, which is its antecedent ; it is utterly 
 impossible for me to have the idea of it without the 
 ideas of its consistence, its smell, its gravity, and so 
 on, which are its consequents. 
 
 Of the numerous antecedents and consequents, 
 forming the matter of our experience, some are con- 
 stant, some are not. Of course the strength of the ^ 
 association follows the frequency. The crow is seen 
 flying as frequently from east to west, as from west to 
 east ; from north to south, as from south to north ; 
 there is, therefore, no association between the flight 
 of the crow and any particular direction. Not so 
 with the motion of a stone let go in the air : that 
 takes one direction constantly. The order of antece- 
 dent and consequent is here invariable. The asso- 
 ciation of the ideas, therefore, is fixed and inseparable. 
 I can no more have the idea of a stone let go in the 
 air, and not have the idea of its dropping to the 
 
364 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 ground, than I can have the idea of the stone, and 
 not have it, at the same time.^^^ 
 
 Where the sequence of two events is merely casual, 
 it passes speedily away from the mind ; because it is 
 not associated with the idea of any thing in which we 
 are interested. The things in which we are in- 
 terested, are the immediate antecedents of our plea- 
 sures and pains, and the ideas of them are all in- 
 separably associated with constant conjunctions. The 
 association of the ideas of a constant antecedent and 
 consequent, therefore, has both causes of strength, 
 the interesting nature of the ideas, and the frequency 
 of conjunction, both at their greatest height. It 
 follows, that it should be the most potent and inse- 
 parable of all the combinations in the mind of man. 
 
 As we are thus incessantly, and thus intensely, occu- 
 pied with cases of constant conjunction, while cases 
 of casual conjunction pass slightly over the mind, and 
 
 ^^^ The theory maintained so powerfully and with such high 
 intellectual resources by the author, that Belief is but an in- 
 separable association, will be examined at length in a note at 
 the end of the chapter. Meanwhile let it be remarked, that 
 the case of supposed inseparable association given in this 
 passage, requires to be qualified in the statement. We cannot, 
 indeed, think of a stone let go in the air, without having the 
 idea of its falling ; but this association is not so strictly in- 
 separable as to disable us from having the contrary idea. 
 There are analogies in our experience which enable us without 
 difficulty to form the imagination of a stone suspended in the 
 air. The case appears to be one in which we can conceive both 
 opposites, falling and not falling; the incompatible images 
 not, of course, combining, but alternating in the mind- 
 Which of the two carries belief with it, depends on what is 
 termed Evidence. — Ed. 
 
CHAP. XI.J BELIEF. 365 
 
 quickly vanisli from our consciousness, every event 
 calls up the idea of a constant antecedent. The asso- 
 ciation is so strong, that the combination is necessary 
 and irresistible. It often enough, indeed, happens, 
 that we do not know the constant antecedent of an 
 event. But never does it fail to call up the idea of 
 such an antecedent ; and so inseparably, that we can 
 as little have and not have the idea of an event, as 
 we can have the idea of it, and not have the idea of 
 an inseparable antecedent along with it. — Ignorant, 
 sometimes, of the constant antecedents of such and 
 such events, we find them out by subsequent inquiry. 
 Those cases of successful investigation still further ,, 
 strengthen the association. All that we call good, 
 and all that we call evil, depend so entirely upon those 
 constant conjunctions, that we are necessarily under' 
 the strongest stimulus to find them out, and to trace 
 them with greater and greater accuracy. Thus we 
 very often find a constancy of sequence, in which we 
 acquiesce for a while ; but after a time discover, that 
 though constant, indeed, it is not immediate ; for, that ^ 
 between the event and supposed antecedent, several 
 antecedents intervene. At first we regard the ignition 
 of the gunpowder, as the immediate antecedent of the 
 motion of the ball. Better instructed, we find that a 
 curious process intervenes. The constancy of the 
 sequence is always more certain, the more nearly im- 
 mediate the antecedent is. And so firequent is our 
 detection of antecedents, more immediate than those 
 which we have just observed, that an association is 
 formed between the idea of every antecedent, and 
 that of another antecedent, as yet unknown, inter- 
 mediate between it and the consequent which we 
 
366 BKLIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 know. In no sequence do we ever feel satisfied that 
 we have discovered all. We see a spark ignite the 
 gunpowder, we see one billiard-ball impel another. 
 Though we consider these as constant antecedents and 
 consequents, the idea of something intermediate is 
 irresistibly conjoined. To this, though wholly un- 
 known, we annex a name, that we may be able to 
 speak of it. The name we have invented for this 
 purpose is power. Thus, we conceive that it is not 
 the spark which ignites the gunpowder, but the power 
 of the spark ; it is not one bilHard-ball that moves 
 the other, but the power of the ball. The Power, in 
 this case, is a supposed consequent of the moving ball, 
 and antecedent of the moved ; and so in all other cases. 
 
 But the idea of an event does not call up the idea 
 of its constant antecedent in closer and more intense 
 association, than it calls up that of its consequent or 
 consequents. 1 cannot have the idea of water, with- 
 out the idea of its mobility, its weight, and other 
 obvious properties. I cannot have the idea of rhu- 
 barb, without the idea of its nauseous taste, and other 
 familiar properties. I cannot have the idea of the 
 stroke of a sword upon the head of a man, without 
 the idea of a wound inflicted on his head. I cannot 
 have the idea of my falling from a ship into the 
 middle of the sea, without the idea of my being 
 drowned. I cannot have the idea of my falling from 
 the top of a high tower, without having the idea of 
 my being killed by the fall. If I have the first idea, 
 the second forces itself upon me. The union has in 
 it all that I mark by the word necessity ; a sequence, 
 constant, immediate, and inevitable. 
 
 This great law of our nature shews to us imme- 
 
CHAP. XI.J BELIEF. 367 
 
 diately in what manner our idea of the future is 
 generated. Night has regularly been followed by 
 morning. The idea of night is followed by that of 
 morning ; the idea of morning is followed by that 
 of the events of the morniag, the gradual increase of 
 hght, the occupations of men, the movements of ani- 
 mals and objects, and all their several successions from 
 morning till night. This is the idea of to-morrow ; 
 to this succeeds another to-morrow ; and an indefinite 
 number of these to-morrows makes up the complex 
 idea of futurity. 
 
 But I am told, that we have not only the idea of 
 to-morrow, but the behef of to-morrow ; and I am 
 asked what that belief is. I answer, that you have 
 not only the idea of to-morrow, bat have it inseparably. 
 It will also appear, that wherever the name belief is 
 applied, there is a case of the indissoluble association 
 of ideas. It will farther appear, that, in instances 
 without number, the name belief is apphed to a mere 
 case of indissoluble association ; and no instance can 
 be adduced in which any thing besides an indissoluble 
 association can be shewn in belief.^^^ It would seem 
 
 '^^^ The case that is most thoroughly opposed to the theory 
 of indissoluble association is our belief in the Uniformity of 
 Nature. Our overweening tendency to anticipate the future 
 from the past is shown prior to all association ; the first effect 
 of experience is to abridge and modify a strong primitive 
 urgency. There is^ no doubt, a certain stage when associa- 
 tion co-operates to justify the believing state. After our head- 
 long instinct has, by a series of reverses, been humbled and 
 toned down, and after we have discovered that the uniformity, 
 at first imposed by the mind upon everything, applies to some 
 things and not to others, we are confirmed by our experience 
 
368 BELIEF. CHAP. XI. 
 
 to follow from this, with abundant evidence, that the 
 whole of my notion of to-morrow, belief included, is 
 nothing but a case of the inevitable sequence of 
 ideas. 
 
 This, however, is a part of our constitution, of so 
 much importance, that it must be scrutinized with 
 more than ordinary minuteness. 
 
 Our first assertion was, that in every instance of 
 behef, there is indissoluble association of the ideas. 
 We shall confine our examples, for the present, to that 
 case of belief which is more immediately under our 
 examination ; belief in the future. I believe, that if 
 I put my finger in the flame of the candle, I shall 
 feel the pain of burning. I beheve, that if a stone is 
 dropped in the air, it will fall to the ground. It is 
 evident that in these cases, the belief consists in 
 uniting two events, the antecedent, and the conse- 
 quent. There are in it, therefore, two ideas, that of 
 the antecedent, and that of the consequent, and the 
 union of those ideas. The previous illustrations 
 have abundantly shewn us, in what manner the two 
 ideas are united by association, and indissolubly 
 united. These ingredients in the behef are all 
 indisputable. That there is any other cannot be 
 shewn. 
 
 in the cases where the uniformity prevails ; and the intellectual 
 growth of association counts for a small part of the believing 
 impetus. Still, the efficacy of experience is perhaps negative 
 rather than positive ; it saves, in certain cases, the primitive 
 force of anticipation from the attacks made upon it in the 
 other cases where it is contradicted by the facts. It does not 
 make belief, it conserves a pre-existing belief. (See Note at 
 the end of the chapter.) — B. 
 
CHAP. Xl.J BELIEF. 369 
 
 Our second assertion was, that cases of indissoluble 
 association, adnnitted by all men to be this, and no- 
 thing more, are acknowledged as Belief. The facts 
 (which any one may call to recollection), in proof of 
 this assertion, deserve the greatest attention ; they 
 shew the mode of investigating some of the most 
 latent combinations of the human mind. 
 
 No fact is more instructive, in this respect, than 
 one, which more than once we have had occasion to 
 make use of; the association of the ideas of distance, 
 extension, and figure, with the sensations of sight. I 
 open my eyes; I see the tables, and chairs, the floor, the 
 door, the walls of my room, and the books ranged upon 
 the walls ; some of these things at one distance, some 
 at another; some of one shape and size, some of another. 
 My belief is, that I see all those particulars. Yet the 
 fact is, that I see nothing but certain modifications of 
 light ;^*'^ and that all my belief of seeing the distance, 
 the size, and figure of those several objects, is nothing 
 but the close and inseparable association of the ideas 
 of other senses. There is no room for even a surmise 
 that there is any thing in this case but the immediate 
 blending of the ideas of one sense with the sensations 
 of another, derived from the constant concomitance of 
 the sensations themselves. 
 
 The case of hearing is perfectly analogous, though 
 
 '^^^ More guardedly — ' I am affected by certain raodifications 
 of Horht.' The word ' see' carries with it too much nieanintr 
 for the case put. There is also the omission, previously re- 
 marked on, to take into account the mental elements due to 
 the movements of the eye — visible forms, magnitudes, and 
 movements. — B, 
 
 VOL. I. B B 
 
370 BELIEF. [chap. XT. 
 
 not so exact. I am in the dark ; I hear the voice of 
 one man, and say he is behind me ; of another, and 
 say he is before me ; of another, he is on my right 
 hand ; another, on my left. I hear the sound of a 
 carriage, and say, it is at one distance ; the sound of a 
 trumpet, and say, it is at another. In these cases I 
 believe, not only th?it I hear a sound, but the sound 
 of a man's voice, the sound of a carriage, the sound of 
 a trumpet. Yet no one imagines that my belief is 
 any thing, in these cases, but the close association of 
 the sounds with the ideas of the objects. I believe, 
 not only that I hear the sound of a man's voice, but 
 that I hear it behind me, or before me ; on my right 
 hand, or on my left ; at this distance, or at that. The 
 indisputable fact, in the mean time, is, that I hear 
 only a modification of sound, and that the position 
 and distance, which I believe I hear, are nothing but 
 ideas of other senses, closely associated with those 
 modifications of sound. That this state of conscious- 
 ness, the result of an immediate irresistible association, 
 is identical with the state which we name belief, is 
 proved by a very remarkable experiment, the decep- 
 tion produced by ventriloquism. A man acquires the 
 art of forming that peculiar modification of sound, 
 which would come from this or that position, different 
 from the position he is in ; in other words, the sound 
 which is associated, not with the idea of the position 
 he is in, but that of another position. The sound is 
 heard ; the association takes place ; we cannot help 
 beUeving that the sound proceeds from a certain place, 
 though we know, that is, immediately recognize, that 
 it proceeds from another. 
 
 We must not be afraid of tediousness, while we 
 
CTHfAP. XI.] BELIEF. 371 
 
 adduce instances in superabundance, to prove that in- 
 disgoluble association (in one remarkable class of its 
 oases, which, on account of their vast importance, it 
 is found expedient to distinguish by a particular 
 name) is that state of consciousness, to which we have 
 given the name of belief. 
 
 We are all of us familiar with that particular 
 feeling, which is produced, when we have turned our- 
 selves round with velocity several times. We believe 
 that the world is turning round. 
 
 The sound of bells, opposed by the wind, appears 
 to be farther off. A person speaking through a trumpet 
 appears to be nearer. Our experience is, that sounds 
 decrease by distance. A sound is decreased by oppo- 
 siti^in of the wind ; the idea of distance is associated ; 
 and the association being inseparable, it is belief A 
 sound is increased by issuing from a trumpetj the 
 idea of proximity is associated, and the association 
 being indissoluble, it is belief 
 
 In passing, on board of ship, another ship at sea, 
 we believe that she has all the motion, we none :: 
 though we may be sailing rapidly before the wind, she 
 making hardly any progress against it. 
 
 When we have been making a journey in a stage 
 coach, or a voyage in a ship, we believe, for some 
 time after leaving the vehicle, that still we are feeling 
 its rttotion ; more especially j ust as we are falling asleep. 
 
 Nobody doubts, that these, and similar cases of 
 belief, which are very numerous, are all to be resolved 
 into pure association. What the associations are, we 
 leave to be traced by the learner ; so many repetitions 
 of the same process, though a useful exercise to hiln^, 
 would be very tedious here. 
 
 BB 2 
 
372 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 The Belief which takes place in Dreaming meiits 
 great attention in this part of our inquiry. No belief 
 is stronger than that which we experience in dream- 
 ing. Our belief of some of the frightful objects, 
 which occur to us, is such, as to extort from us loud 
 cries ; and to throw us into such tremors and bodily 
 agitations, as the greatest real dangers would fail in 
 producing. Not less intense is our belief in the 
 pleasurable objects which occur to us in dreams ; nor 
 are the agitations which they produce in our bodies 
 much less surprising. ' Yet there is hardly any dif- 
 ference of opinion about the real nature of the pheno- 
 mena which occur in dreaming. That our dreams 
 are mere currents of ideas, following one another by 
 association ; not controlled, as in our waking hours, 
 by sensations and will ; is the substance of every 
 theory of dreaming. The belief, therefore, which 
 occurs in dreaming, is merely a case of association ; 
 and hence it follows that nothing more is necessary to 
 account for BeHef 
 
 There is not a more decisive instance of the identity 
 of Belief and Association, than the dread of ghosts, 
 felt in the dark, by persons who possess, in its greatest 
 strength, the habitual disbelief of their existence. 
 That dread implies belief, and an uncontrollable belief, 
 we need not stay to prove. When the persons of 
 whom we speak feel the dread of ghosts in the dark, 
 the meaning is, that the idea of ghost is irresistibly 
 ealled up by the sensation of darkness. There is here, 
 indisputably, a case of indissoluble association ; nor 
 jcan it be shewn that there is anything else. In the 
 dark;, when this strong association is produced, there 
 
CHAP, xr.] BELIEF. 373 
 
 is the belief; not in the dark, when the association is 
 not produced, there is no behef. '^* 
 
 Few men, except those who are accustomed to it, 
 could walk on the ridge of a high house without 
 falling down. Yet the same men could walk with 
 perfect security, on similar footing, placed on the 
 ground. What is the interpretation of this con- 
 trariety ? Fear, we are told, is that which makes the 
 
 ^^^ The efficacy of association is not correctly explained in 
 this instance. The influence of Terror on belief is unques- 
 tionably great ; but the operation is more complicated than 
 the description given of it in the text. Terror, in the first 
 place, is a depressing passion, and as such impairs the tone of 
 mind suited to the anticipation of coming good, or in the ob- 
 verse, increases the tendency to anticipate coming evil. In 
 the next place, it is the state most liable to a morbid fixed 
 idea of evil, calamity, or danger. Thirdly, we have learned 
 in the course of our lives to expect numerous possible calami- 
 ties ; and are maintained in serenity only by seeing clearly a 
 good way before us, so as to be sure that none of these pos- 
 sible evils are approaching. Darkness extinguishes for the 
 time our assuring fore-sight, and thus, by removing a coun- 
 teractive, leaves us a prey to all the demons of mischief. 
 Fourthly, the emotion of Terror has its corresponding imagina- 
 tions, into which are taken up with avidity all the suggestions 
 of danger that have ever been made to us, including ghosts, 
 hobgoblins, and other agents of calamity, when we have not 
 natural vigour or express training to set them at nought. 
 
 The mere fact communicated to us, on a few occasions, that 
 ghosts appear in the dark, and sometimes perform dreadful 
 deeds, would not by force of association alone produce all that 
 un-nerving effect which children and weak or superstitious 
 persons are liable to when, at night, exposed in a lonely place, 
 or passing a churchyard. — B. 
 
374 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 inexperienced person fall. But fear implies belief. 
 There is nothing, however, in the case, but the intense 
 association of the idea of his falling, with his sight of 
 the position in which he is placed. In some persons 
 this idea is so ey.sily excited, that they cannot look 
 down from even a very moderate height, without 
 feeling giddy, as they call it ; that is, without having 
 the apprehension ; in other words, the belief, of 
 falling. * 
 
 * The same account, in substance, of sQme of the last of 
 these phenomena, is given b}'^ Dr. Brown ; and it may aid the 
 conceptions of the learner, to observe the different modes of 
 exposition used by two different writers. 
 
 " There can be no question, that he who travels in the !-ame 
 carriage, with the same external appearances of every kind by 
 which a robber could be tempted or terrified, will be in equal 
 danger of attack, whether he carry with him little of which he 
 can be plundered, or such a booty as would impoverish him if 
 it were lost. But there can be no question also, that though 
 the probabilities of danger be the same, the fear of attack 
 would, in these two cases, be very different; that, in the one 
 case, he would laugh at the ridiculous terror of any one who 
 journeyed with him, and expressed much alarm at the approach 
 of evening ; and that, in the other case, his own eye would 
 watch suspiciously every horseman who approached, and would 
 teel a sort of relief when he observed him pass carelessly and 
 quietly along at a considerable distance behind. 
 
 •'That the fear, as a mere emotion, should be more intense, 
 according to the greatness of the object, might indeed be ex- 
 pected ; and if this were all, there would be nothing wonderful 
 in the state of mind which 1 have now described. But there is 
 not merely a greater intensity of fear, there is, in spite of re- 
 fltction, a greater belief of probability of attack. There is fear, 
 in short, and fear to which we readily yield, when otherwise all 
 fear would have seemed absurd. The reason of this it will 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 375 
 
 From these illustrations, then, it does not appear 
 that the anticipation of the future from the past, con- 
 tains in it any thing peculi?*x. So far from standing 
 by itself, a phenomenon sui generis ; it is included in 
 one of the most general of the laws of the human 
 mind. When Professor Stewart, therefore, and other 
 writers, erect it into an object of wonder, a prodigy, a 
 thing falling within no general rule ; and tell us they 
 can refer it to nothing but instinct ; which is as much 
 
 perhaps not be difficult for you to discover, if you remember 
 the explanations formerly given by me, of some analogous 
 phenomena. The loss of what is valuable in itself, is of course 
 a great affliction. The slightest possibility of such an evil 
 makes the evil itself occur to us, as an object of conception, 
 though not at first, perhaps, as an object of what can be termed 
 fear. Its very greatness, however, makes it, when thus con- 
 ceived, dwell longer in the mind; and it cannot dwell long, 
 even as a mere conception, without exciting, by the common 
 influence of suggestion, the different states of mind, associated 
 with the conception of any great evil ; of which associate or 
 resulting states, in sucli circumstances, fear is one of the most 
 constant and prominent. The fear is thus readily excited as 
 an associate feeling ; and when the fear has once been excited, 
 as a mere associate feeling, it continues to be still more readily 
 suggested again, at every moment, by the objects that sug- 
 gested it, and with the perception or conception of which it 
 has recently co-existed. There is a remarkable analogy to this 
 process, in the phenomena of giddiness, to which I have before 
 more than once alluded. Whether the height on which we 
 stand, be elevated only a few feet, or have beneath it a pre- 
 cipitous abyss of a thousand fathoms, our footing, if all other 
 circumstances be the same, is in itself equally sure. Yet 
 though we look down, without any fear, on the gentle slope, iu 
 the one case, we shrink back iu the other case with painful 
 dismay. The lively conception of the evil which we should 
 
37G BKLIEF. [chap. XT. 
 
 as to say, to nothing at all ; the term instinct, in all 
 cases, being a name for nothing but our own igno- 
 rance ; they only confess their failure in tracing the 
 phenomena of the mind to the grand comprehensive 
 law of association ; to the admission of which, in its 
 full extent, they seem to have had a most unaccount- 
 able, and a most unphilosophical aversion ; — as if 
 that simplicity, according to which one law is found 
 
 suffer in a fall down the dreadful descent, which is very natu- 
 rally suggested by the mere sight of the precipice, su<2gests and 
 keeps before us the images of horror in such a fall, and thus 
 indirectly the emotions of fear, that are the natural accompa- 
 niments of such images, and that but for those images never 
 would have arisen. We know well, on reflection, that it is a 
 footing of the firmest rock, perhaps, on which we stand, but in 
 spite of reflection, we feel, at least, at every other moment, as 
 if this very rock itself were crumbling or sinking beneath us. 
 fn this case, as in the case of the traveller, the liveliness of the 
 mere conception of evil that may be suffered, gives a sort of 
 temporary probability to that which would seem to have little 
 likelihood in itself, and which derives thus from mere imasi- 
 nation all the terror that is falsely embodied by the mind in 
 things that exist around. 
 
 "It is not, then, any simple ratio of probabilities which 
 regulates the rise of our hopes and fears, but of these com- 
 bined with the magnitude or insignificance of the objects.'"* — 
 Lectures on the Philosophy of the Human Mind. Lecture 
 LXV, vol. iii., p, 345—347. 2d ed. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, the ideas of Dr. Brown were so far 
 from being clear and settled on the subject, that in the same 
 work, Lecture VL, v. i., p. 115, he seems to afidrm, that belief 
 cannot be accounted for by association, but must be referred 
 to instinct; though it is necessary to use the word seems, 
 for it is not absolutely certain that he does not by instinct 
 mean association. — {Authors Note.) 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 377 
 
 included in a higher, and that in a yet higher, till we 
 arrive at a few which seem to include the whole, were 
 not as much to be expected in the world of mind, as 
 in the world of matter.^ 
 
 We have now then explored those states of Con- 
 sciousness which we call Belief in existences ; — Belief 
 in present existences; Belief in past existences; and 
 Belief in future existences. We have seen that, in 
 the most simple cases, Belief consists in sensation 
 alone, or ideas alone ; in the more complicated cases, 
 in sensation, ideas, and association, combined ; and 
 in no case of belief has any other ingredient been 
 found. 
 
 In accounting for belief in present objects not 
 acting on the senses, — it appeared, that a certain 
 anticipation of the future entered, for so much, into 
 this compound phenomenon ; the explanation of 
 which part we were obliged to leave, till the anticipa- 
 
 ^ Locke, at a period subsequent to the publication of his 
 Essay, seems to have become more sensible of the importance 
 of association. These are his words : — " I think I shall make 
 some other additions to be put into your Latin translation, 
 and particularly concerning the connexion of ideas, which has 
 not, that I know, been hitherto considered, and has, I guess, 
 a greater influence upon our minds, than is usually taken notice 
 of." — Locke, Lett, to Molineux, April 26tk, 1695. — (Author''^ 
 Note.) 
 
 [When Locke wrote the letter here quoted, he had not yet 
 written the chapter of his Essay which treats of the Association,,/ ^q) 
 of Ideas. That chapter did not appear in the original edition, 
 but was first inserted in the fourth, published in 1690. The _.^ \nr\d 
 intention, therefore, which he expressed to Molineux, has 
 received its fulfilment ; and the passage quoted further on in the 
 text, is part of the " addition" which he contemplated. — Ed.'\ 
 
378 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 tion of the future had undergone investigation. We 
 have now seen that this part, as well as the rest, 
 consists of association. The whole, therefore, of this 
 case of beUef, is now resolved into association. 
 
 Mr. Locke, whose expositions of any of our mental 
 phenomena are almost always instructive, even when 
 they stop short of being complete, has given the above 
 account of belief precisely, in one remarkable and very 
 extensive class of cases ; those in which the belief is 
 unfounded ; which he denominates prejudices. 
 
 '' There is," he says,^ '' scarce any one that does not 
 observe something that seems odd to him, and is in 
 itself really extravagant in the opinions, reasonings, 
 and actions, of other men. 
 
 " This sort of unreasonableness is usually imputed 
 to education and prejudice ; and for the most part 
 truly enough ; though that reaches not the bottom of 
 the disease, nor shews distinctly enough whence it 
 rises, or wherein it hes. 
 
 '^ Education is often rightly assigned for the cause ; 
 and prejudice is a good general name for the thing 
 itself; but yet, I think, he ought to look a little 
 farther, who would trace this sort of madness to the 
 root it springs from, and so explain it, as to shew 
 whence this flaw has its original in very sober and 
 rational minds, and wherein it consists." 
 
 Mr. Locke affords the explanation, which he 
 thought necessary to be given, and proceeds as 
 follows. 
 
 " Some of our ideas have a natural correspondence 
 and connexion one with another. It is the office, and 
 
 * Essay on the Human Uaderstanding, B. II., Ch. 33. 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 379 
 
 excellence, of our reason, to trace these ; and hold theni 
 together in that union and correspondence, which is 
 founded in their peculiar beings. 
 
 '' Besides this, there is another connexion of ideas, 
 wholly owing to chance or custom. Ideas, that in 
 themselves are not at all of kin, come to be so united 
 in some men's minds, that it is very hai^d to separate 
 them. They always keep in company ; and the one 
 no sooner at any time comes into the understanding, 
 but its associate appears with it. And if they are 
 more than two which are thus united, the whole gang, 
 always inseparable, shew themselves together. 
 
 " This wrong connexion, in our minds, of ideas in 
 themselves loose and independent of one another, has 
 such an influence, and is of so great force, to set us 
 awry in our actions, as well moral as natural, passions, 
 reasonings, and notions themselves ; that perhaps 
 there is not any one thing that deserves more to be 
 looked after. 
 
 '' The ideas of goblins and sprights have really no 
 more to do with darkness than light. Yet let but a 
 foolish maid inculcate these often in the mind of a 
 child, and raise them there together, possibly he shall 
 never be able to separate them again so long .as he 
 lives ; but darkness shall ever afterwards bring with 
 it those frightful ideas, and they shall be so joined, 
 that he can no more bear the one than the other. 
 
 " A man receives a sensible injury from another ; 
 thinks on the man and that action over and over ; and 
 by ruminating on them strongly, or much in his 
 mind, so cements those two ideas together, that he 
 makes them almost one. " 
 
 " When this combination is settled, and while it 
 
380 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 lasts, it is not in the power of reason to help us and 
 relieve us from the effects of it. Ideas in our minds, 
 when they are there, will operate according to their 
 nature and circumstances. And, here, w^e see the 
 cause why Time cures certain affections, which reason, 
 though in the right, has not powder over, nor is able, 
 against them, to prevail with those who are apt to 
 hearken to it in other cases." 
 
 After adducing various examples, to illustrate 
 the effect of these associations, in producing both 
 vicious affections, and absurd opinions, he thus con- 
 cludes : 
 
 '' That which thus captivates our reasons, and leads 
 men blindfold from common sense, will, when ex- 
 amined, be found to be what we are speaking of 
 Some independent ideas of no alliance to one another, 
 are, by education, custom, and the constant din of 
 their party, so coupled in their minds, that they 
 always appear there together ; and they can no more 
 separate them in their thoughts, than if there were 
 but one idea; and they operate as if they were so. 
 This gives sense to jargon, demonstration to absurdity, 
 and consistency to nonsense; and is the foundation of 
 the greatest, I had almost said, of all, the errors in 
 the world." 
 
 Such is Mr. Locke's account of wrong belief, or 
 error. But wrong belief is behef, no less than right 
 belief Wrong belief, according to Locke, arises 
 from a bad association of ideas. Right belief, then, 
 arises from a right association of ideas ; and this also 
 was evidently Locke's opinion. It is, thus, associa- 
 tion, in both cases ; only, in the case of wrong belief, 
 the association is between ideas which ought not to 
 
CHAP. XI.J BELIEF. 381 
 
 be associated ; in the case of right belief, it is between 
 ideas which ought to be associated. In the case of 
 right belief, the association is between ideas which, in 
 the language of Locke, *'have a natural correspon- 
 dence and connexion one with another :'' in the case of 
 wrong belief, it is between ideas, which ''in them- 
 selves are not at all of kin, and are joined only by 
 chance or custom." The ideas of the colour, shape, 
 and smell of the rose ; the ideas of the spark falling 
 on the gunpowder, and the explosion, — are the sorts 
 of ideas which are understood, by Mr. Locke, as 
 having ''a natural correspondence and connexion." 
 Ideas, such as those of darkness, with those of ghosts ; 
 of the miseries suffered at school, with the reading of 
 books, — are the kind which he describes as " not of 
 kin, and united in the mind only by chance or cus- 
 tom." This, put into accurate language, means, that 
 when the ideas are connected in conformity with the 
 connexions of things, the belief is right belief; when 
 the ideas are connected not in conformity with the 
 connexions of things, the belief is wrong belief The 
 ideas, however, which are connected in conformity 
 with the connexions among things, are connected by 
 custom, as much as those which are connected not in 
 conformity with those connexions. And the custom 
 which unites them in conformity, is by far the most 
 common of the t:wo. It is, in fact, the regular, the 
 ordinary, thfe standard custom, the other only consti- 
 tutes the exceptions. 
 
 II. We have divided Belief into, 1, Belief in 
 events, real existences ; 2, Belief in testimony ; 3, '' 
 Belief in the truth of propositions. 
 
 Though this division, suggested by the ordinary 
 
382 BELIEF. [chap. xr. 
 
 forms of language, appeared to me didactically con- 
 venient, it is not logically correct. The expression, 
 ^' Belief in testimony," is elliptical. When com- 
 pleted, it becomes ''Belief in events upon the evi- 
 dence of testimony." There are then, in reality, only 
 two kinds of Belief; 1. Belief in events or real ex- 
 istences ; and 2. Belief in the truth of Propositions. 
 But Behef in events or real existences has two foun- 
 dations; 1. our own experience ; 2. the testimony of 
 others. The first of these we have exammed, the 
 consideration of the second remains. 
 
 When we begin, however, to look at the second of 
 these foundations more closely, it soon appjears, that 
 it is not in reality distinct from the first. For what 
 is testimony ? It is itself an event. When we be- 
 lieve any thing, therefore, in consequence of testimony, 
 we only believe one event in consequence of another. 
 But this is the general account of our belief in events. 
 It is the union of the ideas, of an antecedent, and a 
 consequent, by a strong association. I believe it is 
 one o'clock. Why ? I have just heard the clock 
 strike. Striking of the clocks antecedent ; one o'clock^ 
 consequent ; the second closely associated with the 
 first The striking of the clock is in fact a species of 
 testimony. What does it testify ? Not one event, 
 but an infinite number of events, of which the term 
 " one clock" is the name. At every instant in the 
 course of the day, a. number of events are taking 
 place, some known to us, some unknown. The term 
 one o'clock, is the name of those which take place at 
 a particular point of the diurnal revolution. I believe 
 in them all upon the testimony of the clock. Why ? 
 From experience ; — every one would directly and 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 383 
 
 truly reply. I have found the events constantly, or 
 at least very regularly, conjoined. From junction of 
 the events, junction of the ideas ; in other words, 
 belief 
 
 If proof, only, were wanted, this would suffice. 
 For the purpose, however, of instruction, tuition, 
 training, — a more minute developement of this im- 
 portant case of belief seems too useful to be dispensed 
 with, notwithstanding the tediousness which so many 
 repetitions of the same process are too hkelyto produce. 
 
 The watchman calling the hour, is a case of human 
 testimony. That the account of our belief, in this 
 case, is precisely the same as that in the case of the 
 striking of the clock, it is wholly unnecessary to 
 prove. But if our reliance on testimony in one case 
 is pure experience, it may reasonably be inferred that 
 it is so in all. 
 
 The forms of expression, which we apply to this 
 case of behef, are very misleading. We say, '* we 
 believe a man," or, " we believe his testimony." " We 
 attach belief to the man,'' or, ''to his testimony." In 
 these expressions, the name belief is applied to the 
 wrong event ; to the antecedent, instead of the conse- 
 quent. What we mean to say is, that we believe the 
 consequent, the thing testified, not the antecedent, 
 the speaking of the words. The words the man uses, 
 are, to us, sensations : belief that he uses the words, 
 is not what is meant by belief in his testimony. The 
 same form of expression is perfectly absurd, when 
 applied to other cases. We never say that we believe 
 the flame of the candle, or we attach belief to the 
 flame of the candle, when we mean to state tlie belief, 
 that a finger will be burnt if it is put into the flame ; 
 
384 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 we never say we believe the spark, when we mean to 
 express our behef of an explosion when the spark falls 
 upon the gunpowder. 
 
 The only question, then, is, in what manner the 
 words of the testifier, the antecedent, come to be so 
 united with the idea of the thing testified, as to con- 
 stitute belief. And surely there is no difficulty here, 
 either in conceiving, or admitting the process. Words 
 call up ideas by association, solely. There is no 
 natural connexion between them. The manner in 
 which words are applied to events, I know most in- 
 timately by my own ex^Derience. I am constantly, 
 and, from the first moment I could use them, have 
 constantly been, employing words in exact conformity 
 with events. Cases occur in which I do not, but 
 they are few in comparison with those in which I do. 
 It has been justly remarked, that the greatest of liars 
 speak truth a thousand times for once that they utter 
 falsehood. The connexion between the use of words, 
 and the idea of conformable existence, is, of course, 
 established into one of the strongest associations of 
 the human mind. In other words, belief, in conse- 
 quence of testimony, is, strictly, a case of association. 
 That we interpret other men's actions by our own, no 
 one doubts ; and that we do so entirely by association 
 has already been proved. 
 
 In accounting for belief in past existences where it 
 is not memory, we have found that it is resolvable 
 into belief in testimony, and in the uniformity of the 
 laws of nature ; and the explanation of this we post- 
 poned till the cases of belief in testimony, and in the 
 uniformity of the laws of nature, should be expounded. 
 A few words will now suffice to connect the explana- 
 
CHAP. XI.J BELIEF. 385 
 
 tions formerly given with those which have now been 
 presented. 
 
 The two cases, as we have seen, resolve themselves 
 into one ; as belief in testimony is but a case of the 
 anticipation of the future from the past ; and belief ^^ 
 in the uniformity of the laws of nature is but another 
 name for the some thing. 
 
 I believe the event called the fire of London, upon 
 testimony. I believe that the stranger who now passes 
 before my window, had a father and mother, was once 
 an infant, then a boy, next a youth, then a man, and 
 that he has been nourished by food from his birth ; all 
 this, from my belief in the uniformity of the laws of 
 nature. 
 
 After the preceding developments, it is surely un- 
 necessary to be minute in the analysis of these in- 
 stances. I have had experience, of a constant series 
 of antecedents and consequents, in the life of man ; 
 generation, birth, childhood, and so on ; as I have had 
 of pain from putting my finger in the flame. A cor- 
 responding association is formed. If the sight of a 
 stranger calls up the idea of his origin and progress 
 to manhood, the ordinary train of antecedents and 
 consequents is called up ; nor is it possible for me to 
 prevent it. The association is indissoluble, and is 
 one of the cases classed under the name of Belief 
 
 The explanation is still more simple of my beHef in 
 the fire of London. The testimony in this case is of 
 that sort which I have always experienced to be con- 
 formable to the event. Between such testimony, and 
 the idea of the event testified, I have, therefore, an 
 indissoluble association. The testimony uniformly 
 calls up the idea of the reahty of the event, so closely, 
 VOL. L c c 
 
386 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 that I cannot disjoin them. But the idea, irresistibly 
 forced upon me, of a real event, is Belief. '^^ 
 
 It is in this way that belief in Histoiy is to be ex- 
 23lained. It is because I cannot resist the evidence ; 
 in other words, because the testimony calls up irre- 
 sistibly the idea, that I believe in the battle of Mara- 
 thon, in the existence of the Thirty Tyrants of Athens, 
 in that of Socrates, Plato, and so on. 
 
 III. We come now to what we set out with 
 stating as the third case of Belief; but which, as there 
 are in reality but two kinds of belief, is, strictly speak- 
 ing, the second, — I mean Belief in the Truth of Pro- 
 positions ; in other words, verbal truths. 
 
 The process by which this Behef is generated, or 
 rather the combination wherein it consists, has, by the 
 writers on Logic, at least those in the Latin and ' 
 modern languages, been called judgment. This, how- 
 ever, is a restricted sense. In general, the word 
 Judgment is used with more latitude. Sometimes it 
 is nearly co-extensive with Belief, excluding hardly 
 
 106 ^[^Q belief in Testimony is derived from the primary cre- 
 dulity of the mind, in certain instances left intact under the 
 wear and tear of adverse experience. Hardly any fact of the 
 human mind is better attested than the primitive disposition 
 to receive all testimony with unflinching credence. It never 
 occurs to the child to question any statement made to it, until 
 some positive force on the side of scepticism has been deve- 
 loped. Gradually we find that certain testimonies are incon- 
 sistent with fact ; we have, therefore, to go through a long 
 education in discriminating the good testimonies from the bad. 
 To the one class, we adhere with the primitive force of convic- 
 tion that in the other class has been shaken and worn away by 
 the shocks of repeated contradictions. — B. 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 387 
 
 any but the sudden and momentary cases. We 
 should hardly say, A man judges there are ghosts, 
 who is afraid of them in the dark, but firmly believes 
 his fear is unfounded ; or judges the surgeon to be 
 noxious, whom he shudders at the sight of, from re- 
 collection of the terrible operation which he under- 
 went at his hands. In all cases, however, either of 
 deliberate or well-founded belief, we seem to apply 
 the word judgment without impropriety. I judge 
 that I see the light, that I hear the drum, that my 
 friend speaks the truth, that water is flowing in 
 the Ganges. 
 
 All Belief of events, except that of our present 
 sensations, and ideas, consists, as we have seen, in the 
 combination of the ideas of an antecedent and a con- 
 sequent. The antecedent is sometimes simple, some- 
 times compound, being not one event, but various 
 events taken together. These varieties in the ante- 
 cedent constitute two distinguishable cases of belief 
 The last of them, that in which the antecedent is 
 complex, is that in which the term judgment is most 
 commonly applied. Again, there are two cases of 
 complex antecedent, one, in which all the events are 
 concordant ; another, in which they are not all con- 
 cordant. It is to this last case that the term judg- 
 ment is most peculiarly applied. Thus, it is not usual 
 to say, that we judge we shall feel pain if we put a 
 finger in the flame of the candle. But if we saw two 
 armies ready to engage, one of which had considerable 
 superiority, both in numbers and discipline, we should 
 say we judge that it would gain the victory. This 
 case, however, of belief, where the antecedent is com- 
 plex, will receive additional illustration farther on. 
 
 c C 2 
 
388 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 We have now to consider the case of Belief in the 
 truth of propositions. 
 
 Proposition is a name for that form of words 
 which makes a predication. What Predication is, of 
 what parts it consists, what end it serves, and into 
 how many kinds it is divided, we have already ex- 
 plained. It remains to inquire what is meant by the 
 TRUTH of a Pi^edication, and what state of conscious- 
 ness it is which is called the recognition or belief of 
 that truth. 
 
 Predication consists essentially in the apphcation 
 of two marks to the same thing. Of this there are 
 two remarkable cases ; one, That in which two names 
 of equal extent are applied to the same thing ; 
 another, That in which two names, one of less, 
 another of greater extent, are applied to the same 
 thing. The questions we have to resolve are, What 
 is meant by truth in these cases ; and. What is the 
 process, or complex state of consciousness, which is 
 called assent to the proposition, or. belief of it. 
 
 And, first, as to the case of two names of equal 
 extent, as when we say, " Man is a rational animal ;" 
 here the two names are, ''Man,"and ''Rational animal," 
 exactly equivalent; so that "man" is the name of 
 whatever "rational animal" is the name of; and 
 "rational animal" is the name of whatever "man" is 
 the name of This coincidence of the names is all 
 that is meant by the truth of the proposition ; and my 
 recognition of that coincidence is another name for 
 my belief in its truth. 
 
 Now, how is it that I recognise two names as 
 equivalent ? About this, there will not be any dis- 
 pute. I recognise the meaning of names solely by 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 389 
 
 association. I recognise that such a name is of such 
 a meaning, by association. I recognise that anotlier 
 name is of the same signification, by the same means. 
 That I recognise the meaning of the last, whatever it 
 is, by association, cannot be doubted, because it is by 
 this that the meaning of every v^^ord is established. 
 There is, however, another fact ; that I recognise the 
 meaning in the second case, as the same vdth the 
 meaning in the first case. What is the process of 
 this recognition ? The word " Man " is the mark or 
 name of a certain cluster of ideas. A certain cluster 
 of ideas I know to be what it is, by having it. . 
 Having it, and knowing it, are two names for the 
 same thing. Having it, and having it again, is know- 
 ing it, and knowing it again ; and that is the recog- 
 nition of its sameness. It is a single name for the 
 two states of consciousness. This, then, is all that is 
 meant by our belief in the truth of a proposition, the 
 terms of which are convertible, or of equal extent. 
 
 When of two names, applied to the same thing, 
 one is of less, another of greater extent, the association 
 is more complex ; but in that is all the difference. ' 
 Thus, when I believe the truth of the proposition, 
 "Man is an animal," the meaning of the name 
 " man" is called up by association, and the meaning 
 of the name ^'animal" is called up by association. 
 Thus far is certain. But there is something further. 
 I recognise, that " animal'' is a name of whatever 
 "man" is a name of, and also of more. In having 
 the meaning of the name " man" called up by associa- 
 tion, that is, in having the ideas, I recognise that 
 " man" is a name of James, and John, and Homer, 
 and Socrates, and all the individuals of the class. 
 
 \^ 
 
 \/ 
 
390 BELIEF, [chap. XI. 
 
 This Is pure association. In having the meaning of 
 the name ''animal" called up by association, I recog- 
 nise that it is a name of James, and John, and all the 
 individuals of the same class, as well as of all the 
 individuals of other classes ; and this is all that is 
 meant by my Belief in the truth of the proposition. 
 Man is the name of one cluster of ideas ; animal is the 
 name of a cluster, including both this and other 
 clusters. The latter cluster is partly the same with, 
 and partly different from, the former. But having 
 two clusters, and knowing them to be two, is not two 
 things, but one and the same thing ; knowing them 
 in the case in which I call them same, and knowing 
 them in the case in which I call them different, is 
 still having them, having them such as they are, and 
 nothing besides. In this second case also, of the belief 
 of a proposition, there is, therefore, nothing but ideas, 
 and association. 
 
 We have already shewn, under the head naming, 
 when explaining the purpose to which Predication is 
 subservient, that all Predication may be strictly con- 
 sidered as of one kind, the appHcation to the same 
 thing of another name of greater extent ; in other 
 words, that Predication by what Logicians call the 
 Difference, Property, or Accident of a thing, may be 
 reduced to Predication by the Genus or Species ; but 
 as there is a seeming difference in these latter cases, a 
 short illustration of them will probably be useful. 
 
 Thus, suppose I say, "Man is rational,'' and that 
 I choose to expound it, without the aid of the word 
 animal, understood ; what is there in the case ? The 
 word ''man," marks a certain cluster of ideas. 
 " E^ational" marks a portion of that cluster. In the 
 
CHAP, XI.] BELIEF. 391 
 
 cluster marked "man," the cluster marked "rationar' 
 is included. To recognise this, is also called beheving 
 the proposition. But to have one cluster of ideas, 
 and know what it is ; then another, and know what it 
 is, is merely to have the two clusters. To have a 
 second cluster, part of a first, and to know that it is a 
 part of the first, is the same thing. 
 
 The peculiar property of that class of words to 
 which " E-ational" belongs, must here be recollected. 
 They are the connotative class. Beside marking some- 
 thing peculiarly, they mark something else in con- 
 junction ; and this last, they are said to connote. 
 Thus the word "rational," beside the part of the 
 cluster, man, which it peculiarly marks, connotes, or 
 marks in conjunction with it, the part included under 
 the word animal. 
 
 It will be easy to apply the same explanation to all 
 other cases. I say, the rose is red. Red is a con- 
 notative term, distinctively marking the idea of red. 
 The idea of red is part of the cluster I mark by the 
 word rose. 
 
 Take a more obscure expression ; Fke burns. It is 
 very obvious, that in the cluster of ideas I mark by the 
 word fire, the idea of burning is included. To have 
 the idea, " fire," therefore, and the idea " burning," 
 called up by the names standing in predication, — is 
 to believe the proposition. 
 
 The Predications, "Virtue is lovely," "Vice is 
 hateful," and the like, all admit of a similar exposi- 
 tion. In the cluster " virtue," the idea of loveliness 
 is included ; in the cluster ' ' vice, " that of hatefulness is 
 included. Such propositions, therefore, merely say, 
 that what is a part of a thing, is a part of it. The 
 
392 BELIEF. [chap. XI 
 
 two words call up the two ideas; and to have two ideas, 
 one a part of another, and know that one is part of 
 another, is not two things, but one and the same 
 thing. To have the idea of rose, and the idea of red, 
 and to know that red makes part of rose, is not two 
 things, but one and the same thing. 
 
 Little more is necessary to explain this case of 
 Belief in the truth of Propositions. Propositions are 
 formed, either of general names, or particular names, 
 that is, names of individuals. Propositions consisting 
 of general names are by far the most numerous class, 
 and by far the most important. The preceding ex- 
 position embraces them all. They are all merely 
 verbal; and the Behef is nothing more than recogni- 
 tion of the coincidence, entire or partial, of two 
 general names. 
 
 The case of Propositions formed of particular names, 
 is difierent, and yet remains to be explained. *' Mr. 
 Brougham made a speech in the House of Commons 
 on such a day.'' The Predicate, '^ making a speech 
 in the House of Commons," is neither general, so as 
 to include the subject, " Mr. Brougham,'' as in a 
 species ; nor is the cluster of ideas, marked by the 
 predicate, included in the cluster marked by the sub- 
 ject, as a part in its whole. The proposition marks a 
 case either of experience, or of testimony. If I heard 
 the speech, the proposition is an expression of the 
 Memory of an event ; Mr. Brougham, antecedent, 
 and making a speech, consequent ; and the Belief of 
 the Proposition, is another name for the Memory of ^'^ 
 the Event. If I did not hear it, Behef of the pro- 
 position, is belief in the testimony of those who 
 say they heard it. 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 393 
 
 As all propositions relating to individual objects 
 are, after this manner, marks either of other men's 
 testimony, or of our own experience, what belief, in 
 these cases, is, has already been explained. 
 
 Propositions relating to individuals may be expres- 
 sions either of past, or of future events. Belief in 
 past events, upon our own experience, is memory ; 
 upon other men's experience, is Belief in testimony ; 
 both of them resolved into association. Belief in 
 future events, is the inseparable association of like 
 consequents with like antecedents. 
 
 It is not deemed necessary to unfold these associa- 
 tions. It has been already done. It seems enough, 
 if they are indicated here.^"' ^^"^ 
 
 ^^^ The author has treated in different places several ques- 
 tions intimately allied. These are : — 
 
 1. The essential nature of the state of mind called Belief, 
 the mental region whence it springs, or the phenomena that it 
 is to be classed with — whether Intellect, Feeling, or Will. 
 
 2. The belief in the Past, and the belief in the Future ; in 
 what respect they differ from belief in the present. Inseparably 
 implicated with this, if not prior to it and preparatory to it, is 
 the difference between ideas of Memory and ideas of Imagina- 
 tion. 
 
 3. The nature of our continuous Mental Life, or Identity ; 
 or what is meant by the Permanent Existence of Mind. 
 
 The chapters on Memory, and on Belief, and the section on 
 Identity (Chap. XIV.), all treat of these questions, and con- 
 tain profound original views on them all. 
 
 As regards the nature of Belief, he errs (in common with 
 philosophers generally) in calling it a purely intellectual state. 
 The consequence is to mar the explanations of the other points. 
 
 He displays a remarkably just and penetrating insight into 
 the differences between Memory and Imagination, and between 
 
394 BELIEF. [chap. XI, 
 
 our own self or Personality, and the personality of others; 
 whereby he fully accounts for what is involved in Personal 
 Identity. 
 
 To resolve the difficult phenomenon of Belief in Memory, 
 of which the belief in the Permanent Existence of Mind is 
 merely another expression, we must clear up the foundations 
 of the state of Belief in general. 
 
 The prevailing error on this subject consists in regarding 
 Belief as mainly a fact of the Intellect, with a certain partici- 
 pation of the feelings. The usual assumption is, that if a 
 thing is conceived in a sufficiently vivid manner, or if two 
 things are strongly associated in the mind, the state of belief 
 is thereby induced. 
 
 A better clue to the real character of belief is found in the 
 connexion between faith and works. The practical test ap- 
 plied to a man's belief in a certain matter, is his acting upon 
 it. A capitalist's trust in the soundness of a project, is shown 
 by his investing his money. 
 
 In its essential character, Belief is a phase of our active 
 nature, — otherwise called the Will. Our tendency to action, 
 under special circumstances, assumes the aspect called belief; 
 as in other circumstances, it takes the form of Desire, and in a 
 third situation, appears as Intention ; none of all which are 
 essential to voluntary action in its typical form. 
 
 The state of belief or of disbelief is manifested when we are 
 pursuing an Intermediate End. In masticating something 
 sweet, the fruition of the sweetness sustains the energy of the 
 will ; there is no case for the bpj jpyipff. fujactinn properly so 
 called, any more than there is for Desire, Deliberation, or 
 Resolution. In going to a shop to purchase sweets, there is 
 wanting this immediate support of the voluntary energies ; the 
 support grows out of an ideal state, the anticipation of the 
 pleasure of sweetness ; this state is called Belief. We are said 
 to believe that what we are going to purchase will impart an 
 agreeable sensation. The state is one of degree ; we may have 
 a strong belief or a weak belief ; the strength having no other 
 measure than the energy of pursuit inspired by it. If we 
 
CHAP. XI.J BELIEF. 395 
 
 follow the intermediate end with all the avidity shown when 
 we are realizing the full actuality, we have the perfect belief 
 that what we aini at will bring the actuality. If, as often 
 happens, we are less strongly naoved than this, our belief is 
 said to be so much weaker. Or, the comparison may be ex- 
 pressed in a. different form. If two things are connected 
 together as means and end ; and, if on attaining the means, we 
 feel as much elated (the end being something good) as if we 
 had attained the end, then our belief is at the maximum ; if 
 less so, our belief is less. The promise made to us by one 
 man gives all the satisfaction of the performance ; the promise 
 of another man gives a very inferior satisfaction ; the compa- 
 rison measures our comparative trust in the two men. 
 
 So far the matter seems plain. The real difficulty lies in 
 assigning the mental origin or seat of the believing attitude. 
 The view to be maintained in this note is, that the state of 
 belief is identical with the activity or active disposition of the 
 system, at the moment, and with reference to the thing believed. 
 Now as there are various sources of activity, so there are various 
 sources of belief. These are : — First, Spontaneous Activity, or 
 the mere overflow of energy growing out of the nourishment 
 of the system. Secondly, Voluntary Action, in the strictest 
 signification, or the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of 
 pain, under the stimulus of one or other of those states. 
 Thirdly, the tendency of an Idea to become an Actuality, the 
 degree of which tendency accords with the mental excitement 
 attending the idea. Fourthly, the addition of Habit to all the 
 others. Under every one of these four influences, we are 
 prompted to act, and in the same degree disposed to believe. 
 Not one of the tendencies is any guarantee for the truth of the 
 thing believed ; which is a somewhat grave consequence of the 
 theory contended for. 
 
 It will now be asked, in what acceptation, or under what 
 circumstances, does mere activity, no matter how arising, con- 
 stitute, or amount to^ the state of belief. There are certain 
 situations where the two states are on the surface the same ; 
 the fact of going along a certain road implicates the behef that 
 
396 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 a certain destination will be reached. Nay, farther, a great 
 amount of natural energy would sustain a vigorous pace, irre- 
 spective of the certainty of the goal ; while physical feebleness 
 would make one languid, however strong the evidence of the 
 distant good. All this shows that the mental state called 
 believing is of httle use without the active power, and that the 
 active power readily simulates the believing state, and makes 
 it seem greater or less than it really is. 
 
 Let us now look at the question in another light. Having 
 a natural fund of activity, with or witliout the addition of 
 proper volitional impulses, we commence moving in a certain 
 direction, no matter what. We are not necessarily urged to 
 move by any prospect of what we are to find. We act some- 
 how, because action comes upon us ; and we take the conse- 
 quences. Suppose, however, that we encounter a check, in the 
 form of obstruction or pain : this stops our activity in that 
 direction, but does not prevent it from taking another direc- 
 tion. Now, not only does the actual pain arrest our steps, but 
 also the memory of it (if the circumstances are such as to give 
 it a certain degree of strength) is deterring. We avoid that 
 track in the future. With reference to it there is generated a 
 voluntary activity and determination, containing the whole 
 essence of belief; namely, the avoidance of a certain course, 
 before the point of actual pain. This is, to all intents, belief 
 on the side of prospective harm. Equally important is it to 
 remark, that wherever we have not experienced any positive 
 harm, check, or obstruction, we go on as readily and as ener- 
 getically as ever. Our natural state of mind, our primitive 
 start is tantamount to full confidence or belief; which is 
 broken in upon, only after hostile experiences; by these, the 
 original condition of implicit confidence is impaired ; and in 
 certain directions, a positive anticipation or determining voli- 
 tion and belief of evil is substituted. An animal born on a 
 summer morning, and able to move about from the first, would 
 not anticipate darkness ; it would behave exactly as if light 
 were never intermitted. A few days' experience makes an in- 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 397 
 
 road on this primitive confidence, and modifies it to suit the 
 facts. 
 
 Let us add another circumstance to the foregoing example. 
 Instead of the individual moving bhndly on, by mere exube- 
 rance or spontaneity, let the movement be favoured by bring- 
 ing pleasure at every step. In this situation, the whole force 
 of the spontaneity at the time, and the whole force of the will 
 (proportioned to the stimulating pleasure), sustain the move- 
 ments at a more energetic pace ; and there is nothing to 
 counter-work them. Tlie mental disposition is now equivalent 
 to the highest confidence ; there is no hesitation, no distrust, 
 nothing but exuberantunrestrained activity. Neither scepticism 
 as to the unknown future, nor a demand for assurance that the 
 present condition is to last, is entertained by the mind. The 
 individual does not inquire whether a precipice, or the lair of 
 a devouring beast be on the track. The ignorance is at once 
 bliss and belief. 
 
 Here, then, we may discern the original tendency of the mind 
 a^ regards belief. To have gone a certain way with safety and 
 with fruition, is an ample inducement to continue in that par- 
 ticular path. The situation contains all that is meant by full 
 and unbounded confidence that the future and the distant will 
 be exactly what the present is. The primary impulse of every 
 creature is at the farthest remove from a procedure according to 
 Logic. In the beginning, confidence is at its maximum ; the 
 course of education is towards abating, and narrowing it, so as 
 to adapt it to the fact of things. Every check is a lesson, de- 
 stroying to a certain extent the over-vaulting assurance of the 
 natural mind, and planting a belief in evil at points where 
 originally flourished only the illimitable belief in ^ood. 
 
 There is thus wrapped up, in the active impulses of our 
 nature, a power of credulity leading us habitually to overstep 
 the experience of the present. We believe in the uniformity 
 of nature with a vengeance. We have to be schooled by ad- 
 verse encounters, before we are brought within the limits of 
 the real uniformity. Our natural credulity is equally excessive 
 
398 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 on the side of evil and on the side of good ; where we have 
 once suffered we expect always to suffer. In short, whereas to 
 the logician, there is a great gulf between the present and 
 future, the known and the unknown, to the natural man there 
 is not even a break. The early mind laughs the logician's 
 gulf to scorn. All that science or logic has been able to do is 
 to show that at certain points the assumed uniformity is broken 
 in upon ; tractable and docile minds learn to respect these ex- 
 ceptions ; but wherever an outlet exists, with no barrier, or 
 express prohibition, not only is that outlet followed, it is 
 followed with all the pristine impetuosity of our active nature. 
 The ordinary logician, over-awed by this force of determina- 
 tion, seldom asserts the principle that the present can by no 
 logical implication contain the future, that a present reality 
 holds in itself no warrant for the unknown past, the distant or 
 the future. The barrier that this principle would interpose to 
 our inferences has been carried by assault ; the gordian knot 
 is always cut with the sword. 
 
 From the point of view of the logician, a serious difficulty 
 ■attaches to our belief in the Memory of the Past ; the psycho- 
 logist can refer it to the incontinence of the mind, in movint^ 
 freely away from the present in any direction, in accountino^ 
 the step next to be entered upon in the absence of impediment, 
 as secure as the one actually taken. 
 
 Let us consider the process first by reverting to the antici- 
 pation of the Future. That a state of things now begun will 
 continue indefinitely is what the mind not only assumes but 
 proceeds upon with a vehemence proportioned to its active 
 endowments and dispositions, until admonished to the contrary 
 by the experience of being checked. All instruction, or cor- 
 roborating information, is dispensed with at the outset : the 
 burden is always laid upon the denier. Of this tendency of 
 the mind the examples are innumerable, and need only to be 
 indicated. In the default of evidence, on one side, and against 
 what ought to be considered evidence on the other side we 
 believe that, as we feel now, so we shall feel alwavs. And our 
 belief is not simply giving the benefit of any doubt there may 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 399 
 
 be to the opinion we incline to ; it is a powerful impulse, 
 counteracted only by a severe and protracted discipline. Also, 
 we believe that our own feelings exactly measure and corre- 
 spond to the feelings of every one else. Very few are ever 
 brought within the limits of the actual truth on this point ; the 
 primitive tendency is not met by a sufficient force of the re- 
 quisite education. 
 
 It is the belief in the future that offers the simplest and 
 clearest example of the mind's tendency to overleap the actual, 
 to see no hard line between the present and the remote. The 
 belief in nature's continuance and uniformity has always been 
 in excess. From the very same tendency springs whatever 
 belief we have of our own continued existence and identity. 
 We make lie^ht of the difference between the conceived future 
 and the real present. 
 
 Much more subtlety attends the Belief in Memory : the 
 meaning of which is, that, whereas certain ideas recalled b}' 
 memory are, de facto ^ ideas, or mental elements of a kind that 
 imagination might furnish, they yet carry with them the belief 
 that they represent what was once actuality, like any sensation 
 of the present moment. 
 
 Let us first apply to the case the overweening instinct now 
 fully set forth. To the logician, the past, however recent, is 
 divided by a deep gulf from the present: the idea and the 
 actuality can never be interchanged. It is not so with the 
 mind following its native disposition. I have a present sensa- 
 tion of thirst ; in that present consciousness, I have the 
 highest attainable assurance ; my action upon it is unhesitating 
 and complete. Let that sensation, however, pass away for 
 one minute, and there remains only the idea which, as a mere 
 idea, by virtue of its recency, may beat its maximum strength. 
 The point now to be explained is, why I believe not merely 
 that I have the idea, which as a fact of present consciousness 
 I am entitled to believe to the utmost, but that the idea was 
 lately a full actuality as much as is my present state of satisfied 
 sensation. The explanation seems to be, that we really make 
 oo radical difference between a present and a proximate past ; 
 
400 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 the march of the miud is to and fro, into the past and the 
 future, with the same tendency to act out both, as to act out 
 the present, assuming always the absence of a positive check or 
 break. Such is the inveterate persistence of the natural 
 activity, that the belief in the thirst when present (shown by 
 action in accordance therewith) has a continuing efficacy 
 second only to the belief in a still present state. At the 
 moment of actual thirst, I, in the absence of corrective in- 
 fluences, (and to some degree in spite of these), would be dis- 
 posed to believe that I always was, and always would be thirsty. 
 The satisfaction that has followed reduces that belief to a frac- 
 tion of its former state ; and my utmost licence of assumption 
 would be, (in the absence of contradictory beliefs) that all my 
 past has been one thirst. The fact is, that, in these moments, 
 when I give full licence to the sway of the idea, by voluntarily 
 remitting attention to my new experience, that idea may swell 
 out into a pitch of mental occupation hardly distinguishable 
 from the real presence ; in which case, my past self and my 
 present self are, as it were, one and indivisible ; they are freely 
 interchanged ; the actual consciousness compounds and con- 
 tains them both. 
 
 Going another step backward, let us consider the state prior 
 to the thirst ; say a consciousness of heat and muscular 
 fatigue. What proof have I that these penultimate states were 
 present in continuity of time and in immediate precedence to 
 the thirst, and are not vagaries of imagination, nor drawn from 
 a remote past, accidentally revived ? There seeiiis no other 
 evidence than that already given regarding the proximate 
 state. In surrendering our mind to the idea still remainino-, 
 and so imparting a momentary quasi-reality to the state, we 
 have an experience possessing the characteristic features of 
 present reality. 
 
 Another consideration has to be mentioned. The state of 
 transition from reality to reality is a distinct and unmistakeable 
 experience. The transition from a present sensation of thirst 
 to a present sensation of satisfied thirst is a march of its own 
 kind —unique and explicit. There are in it attendant circuni- 
 
CHAP. XI.J BELIEF. 401 
 
 stances, not to be confounded with the transition from a 
 present to a past across a break. The recent and proximate 
 state of thirst has a mode of continuity, a setting in contact 
 with the present, such as did not belong to the thirst of yester- 
 day, and still less belongs to the idea of the narrated thirst of 
 another person. No sensation ever comes to us alone, or with- 
 out a group of collaterals ; and the collaterals of the formerly 
 actual, and of the ideal never an actual, are wholly different. 
 (This point has been well illustrated in the text, Chap. X. on 
 Memory). The peculiar link whereby a present actual passes 
 out of actuality into proximate actuality, when it is barely 
 deprived of existence in the real, is a fact that remains and 
 attaches to everything that has been actual ; and the unbroken 
 sequence of these is our past life of actuality, clearly marked 
 out from every aggregate of ideas indiscriminately culled and 
 united in a whole of imagination. This last process has its 
 own distinctive collaterals; it is accompanied by numerous 
 shocks of agreement in difference, under the law of similarity ; 
 but we do not confound these or other accompaniments with 
 the gliding movement of the mind over the chronological past. 
 Thus to take the extreme instance. We can assume another 
 person's mental state (to a certain degree) ; and yet we do not 
 fuse that with our own identity. There is a broad line of 
 demarcation between each one's experience that they term their 
 actual, and the assumption of a second person's experience, 
 say of thirst, of fear, of curiosity. Our own past has con- 
 tinuity and fusion, in itself, and a peculiar set of circumstantial 
 surroundings ; in general, too, it is easy to remember. The 
 other person's experience is received through a machinery of 
 objective signs, laboriously interpreted, and not realized with 
 the collaterals of an experience of our own ; it is shorn of all 
 the beams of our own personality, whether in the present or in 
 the recollected past. 
 
 The distinction now drawn, (substantially what is exem- 
 plified at length in the chapter referred to,) is confirmed by 
 what happens on occasions when memory and imagination are 
 confounded. When a fact is long past, and all but forgotten, 
 
 VOL. 1. D D 
 
402 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 the oblivion overtakes the evidentiary collaterals, the marks of 
 continuity that link together what has been one actual state to 
 what has been another actual state. I remember having 
 had the idea or purpose to say or to do something on a 
 certain occasion ; but I do not remember whether I actually 
 did or said the thing. The memory of the occasion is incom- 
 plete ; the links are snapped that connect that idea with my 
 remembered acting at the time referred to ; it is not in its 
 place in that authenticated series ; and it is not associated with 
 the collateral circumstances that always attend an actual trans- 
 action. On the other hand, as is well remarked in the 
 chapter quoted, imagination may simulate remembered reality, 
 when there is wanting the real memory that would people the 
 occasion with authentic circumstances, and when the imagina- 
 tion has been excited and exercised so as to include in its 
 compass the collaterals that go with an experience in the 
 actual. — B. 
 
 ^^^ The analysis of Belief presented in this chapter, brings 
 out the conclusion that all cases of Belief are simply cases of 
 indissoluble association : that there is no generic distinction, 
 but only a difference in the strength of the association, between 
 a case of belief and a case of mere imagination : that to believe 
 a succession or coexistence between tvvo facts is only to have 
 the ideas of the two facts so strongly and closely associated, 
 that we cannot help having the one idea when we have the 
 other. 
 
 If this can be proved, it is the greatest of all the triumphs 
 of the Association Psychology. To first appearance, no two 
 things can be more distinct than thinking of two things to- 
 gether, and believing that they are joined together in the 
 outward world, Nevertheless, that the latter state of mind is 
 only an extreme case of the former, is, as we see, the deliberate 
 doctrine of the author of the Analysis ; and it has also in its 
 favour the high psychological authority of Mr. Herbert Spencer. 
 Mr. Bain, in the preceding note, as well as in his systematic 
 work, looks at the phenomenon from another side, and pro- 
 nounces that what constitutes Belief is the power which an 
 
CHAP. XI.J BELIEF. 403 
 
 idea has obtained over the Will. It is well known and under- 
 stood that a mere idea may take such possession of the mind 
 as to exercise an irresistible control over the active faculties, 
 even independently of Volition, and sometimes in opposition 
 to it. This, which Mr. Bain calls the power of a Fixed Idea, 
 is exemplified in the cases of what is called fascination ; the 
 impulse which a person looking from a precipice sometimes 
 feels to throw himself down it ; and the cases of crimes said to 
 have been committed by persons who abhor them, because 
 that very horror has filled their minds with an intense and 
 irrepressible idea of the act. Since an idea is sometimes able 
 to overpower volition, it is no wonder that an idea should de- 
 termine volition ; as it does whenever we, under the influence 
 of the idea of a pleasure or of a pain, will that which obtains 
 for us the pleasure or averts the pain. In this voluntary 
 action, our conduct is grounded upon a relation between means 
 aod an end; (that is, upon a constant conjunction of facts in 
 the way of causation, ultimately resolvable into a case of re- 
 semblance and contiguity) : in common and unanalytical lan- 
 guage, upon certain laws of nature on which we rely. Our 
 reliance is the consequence of an association formed in our 
 minds between the supposed cause and its effect, resulting 
 either from personal experience of their conjunction, from the 
 teachings of other people, or from accidental appearances. 
 Now, according to Mr. Bain, when this association between 
 the means and the end, the end calling up the idea of the 
 means, arrives at the point of giving to the idea thus called up 
 a command over the Will, it constitutes Belief. We believe a 
 thing, when we are ready to act on the faith of it ; to face the 
 practical consequences of taking it for granted : and therein 
 lies the distinction between beheving two facts to be conjoined, 
 and merely thinking of them together. Thus far Mr. Bain : 
 and with this I fully agree. But something is still wanting to 
 the completeness of the analysis. The theory as stated, distin- 
 guishes two antecedents,by a difference not between themselves, 
 but between their consequents. But when the consequents 
 differ, the antecedents cannot be the same. An association 
 
 I) D 2 
 
404 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 of ideas is or is not a Belief, according as it has or has not the 
 power of leading us to voluntary action : this is undeniable : but 
 when there is a difference in the effects there must be a difference 
 in the cause : the association which leads to action must be, in 
 some respect or other, different from that which stops at thought. 
 The question, therefore, raised, and, as they think, resolved, 
 by the author of the Analysis and by Mr. Spencer, still demands 
 an answer. Does the difference between the two cases con- 
 sist in this, that in the one case the association is dissoluble, 
 in the other it is so much more closely riveted, by repetition, 
 or by the intensity of the associated feelings, as to be no longer 
 dissoluble? This is the question we are compelled to face. 
 
 I. 
 
 In the first place, then, it may be said — If Belief consisted 
 in an indissoluble association, Belief itself would be indis- 
 soluble. An opinion once formed could never afterwards 
 be destroyed or changed. This objection is good against the 
 word indissoluble. But those who maintain the theory do 
 not mean by an indissoluble association, one which nothing 
 that can be conceived to happen could possibly dissolve. All 
 our associations of ideas would probably be dissoluble, if ex- 
 perience presented to us the associated facts separate from one 
 another. If we have any associations which are, in practice, 
 indissoluble, it can only be because the conditions of our 
 existence deny to us the experiences which would be capable 
 of dissolving them. What the author of the Analysis means 
 by indissoluble associations, are those which we cannot, by 
 any mental effort, at present overcome. If two ideas are, at 
 the present time, so closely associated in our minds, that 
 neither any effort of our own, nor anything else which can 
 happen, can enable us now to have the one without its instantly 
 raising up the other, the association is, in the author's sense 
 of the term, indissoluble. There would be less risk of mis- 
 understanding if we were to discard the word indissoluble, and 
 confine ourselves to the expression which the author employs 
 as its equivalent, inseparable. This I will henceforth do, and 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 405 
 
 we will now enquire whether Belief is nothing but an inse- 
 parable association. 
 
 In favour of this supposition there is the striking fact^ that 
 an inseparable association very often suffices to command 
 belief. There are innumerable cases of Belief for which no 
 cause can be assigned, except that something has created so 
 strong an association between two ideas that the person cannot 
 separate them in thought. The author has given a large as- 
 sortment of such cases, and has made them tell with great 
 force in support of his theory, Locke, as the author mentions, 
 had already seen, that this is one of the commonest and most 
 fertile sources of erroneous thought ; deserving to be placed 
 high in any enumeration of Fallacies. When two things have 
 long been habitually thought of together, and never apart, 
 until the association between the ideas has become so strong 
 that we have great difficulty, or cannot succeed at all, in sepa- 
 rating them, there is a strong tendency to believe that the facts 
 are conjoined in reality ; and when the association is closer 
 still, that their conjunction is what is called Necessary. Most of 
 the schools of philosophy, both past and present, are so much 
 under the influence of this tendency, as not only to justify it in 
 principle, but to elect it into a Law of Things. The majority 
 of metaphysicians have maintained, and even now maintain, 
 that there are things which, by the laws of intelligence, cannot be 
 separated in thought, and that these things are not only always 
 united in fact, but united by necessity : and, again, other things, 
 which cannot be united in thought — which cannot be thought 
 of together, and that these not only never do, but it is im- 
 possible they ever should, coexist in fact. These supposed 
 necessities are the very foundation of the Transcendental schools 
 of metaphysics, of the Common Sense school, and many others 
 which have not received distinctive names. These are facts in 
 human nature and human history very favourable to the 
 supposition that Belief is but an inseparable association, or at 
 all events that an inseparable association suffices to create 
 Belief. 
 
 On the contrary side of the question it may be urged, that 
 
406 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 the inseparable associations which are so often found to gene- 
 rate Beliefs, do not generate them in everybody. Analytical 
 and philosophical minds often escape from them, and resist the 
 tendency to beheve in an objective conjunction between facts 
 merely because they are unable to separate the ideas. The 
 author's typical example of an inseparable association, (and 
 there can be none more suited to the purpose,) is the associa- 
 tion between sensations of colour and the tangible magnitudes, 
 figures, and distances, of which they are signs, and which are 
 so completely merged with them into one single impression, 
 that we believe we see distance, extension, and figure, though 
 all we really see is the optical effects which accompany them, 
 all the rest being a rapid interpretation of natural signs. The 
 generality of mankind, no doubt, and all men before they have 
 studied the subject, believe what the author says they do ; but 
 a great majority of those who have studied the subject believe 
 otherwise : they believe that a large portion of the facts which 
 we seem to see, we do not really see, but instantaneously infer.' 
 Yet the association remains inseparable in these scientific 
 thinkers as in others : the retinal picture suggests to them the 
 real magnitude, in the same irresistible manner as it does to 
 other people. To take another of the author's examples : 
 when we look at a distant terrestrial object through a telescope, 
 it appears nearer; if we reverse the telescope it appears further 
 off. The signs by which we judge of distance from us, here 
 mislead, because those signs are found in conjunction with real 
 distances widely different from those with which they coexist in 
 our ordinary experience. The association, however, persists, 
 and is irresistible, in one person as much as in another ; for 
 every one recognises that the object, thus looked at, seems 
 nearer, or farther off, than we know it to be. But does this 
 ever make any of us, except perhaps an inexperienced child, 
 believe that the object is at the distance at which we seem to 
 see it ? The inseparable association, though so persistent and 
 powerful as to create in everybody an optical illusion, creates 
 no delusion, but leaves our belief as conformable to the 
 realities of fact as if no such illusive appearance had presented 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 407 
 
 itself. Cases similar to this are so frequent, that cautious and 
 thoughtful minds, enlightened by experience on the misleading 
 character of inseparable associations, learn to distrust them, 
 and do not, even by a first impulse, believe a connexion in fact 
 because there is one in thought, but wait for evidence. 
 
 Following up the same objection, it may be said that if 
 belief is only an inseparable association, belief is a matter of 
 habit and accident, and not of reason. Assuredly an associa- 
 tion, however close, between two ideas, is not a sufficient 
 ground of belief; is not evidence that the corresponding facts 
 are united in external nature. The theory seems to annihilate 
 all distinction between the belief of the wise, which is regulated 
 by evidence, and conforms to the real successions and coexis- 
 tences of the facts of the universe, and the belief of fools, which 
 is mechanically produced by any accidental association that 
 suggests the idea of a succession or coexistence to the mind : 
 a belief aptly characterized by the popular expression, believ- 
 ing a thing because they have taken it into their heads. 
 
 Indeed, the author of the Analysis is compelled by his 
 theory to affirm that we actually believe in accordance with the 
 misleading associations which generate what are commonly 
 called illusions of sense. He not only says that we believe 
 we see figure and distance — which the great majority of psy- 
 chologists since Berkeley do not believe ; but he says, that in 
 the case of ventriloquy " we cannot help believing" that the 
 sound proceeds from tli^ place, of which the ventriloquist 
 imitates the effect; that the sound of bells opposed by the 
 wind, not only appears farther off, but is believed to come 
 from farther off, although we may know the exact distance 
 from which it comes ; that " in passing on board ship, another 
 ship at sea, we believe that she has all the motion, we none :'* 
 nay even, that when we have turned ourselves round with 
 velocity several times, " we believe that the world is turning 
 round." Surely it is more true to say, as people generally do 
 say, "the world seems to us to turn round." To me these 
 cases appear so many experimental proofs, that the tendency 
 of an inseparable association to generate belief, even when that 
 
408 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 tendency is fully effectual in creating the irresistible appear- 
 ance of a state of things that does not really exist, may yet be 
 impotent against reason, that is, against preponderant evidence. 
 
 Jn defence of these paradoxes, let us now consider what the 
 author of the Analysis might say. One thing he would cer- 
 tainly say : that the belief he affirms to exist in these cases of 
 illusion, is but a momentary one ; with which the belief enter- 
 tained at all other times may be at variance. In the case, for 
 instance, of those who, from an early association formed 
 between darkness and ghosts, feel terror in the dark though 
 they have a confirmed disbelief in ghosts, the authors 
 opinion is that there is a temporary belief, at the moment 
 wlien the terror is felt. This was also the opinion of Dugald 
 Stewart: and the agreement (by no means a solitary one) 
 between two thinkers of such opposite tendencies, reminds one 
 of the saying " Quand un Fran9ais et un Anglais sont d^accord, 
 il faut bien qu'ils aient raison." Yet the author seems to 
 adopt this notion not, from observation of the case, but from 
 an antecedent opinion that " dread implies belief, and an un- 
 controllable belief," which, he says, " we need not stay to 
 prove/' It is to be wished, in this case, that he had stayed to 
 prove it : for it is harder to prove than he thought. The emo- 
 tion of fear, the physical effect on the nervous system known 
 by that name, may be excited, and I believe often is excited, 
 simply by terrific imaginations. That these imaginations are, 
 even for a moment, mistaken for menacing realities, may be true, 
 but ought not to be assumed without proof. The circumstance 
 most in its favour (one not forgotten by the author) is that in 
 dreams, to which may be added hallucinations, frightful ideas 
 are really mistaken for terrible facts. But dreams are states in 
 which all other sensible ideas are mistaken for outward facts. 
 Yet sensations and ideas are intrinsically different, and it is not 
 the normal state of the human mind to confound the one 
 with the other. 
 
 Besides, this supposition of a momentary belief in ghosts 
 breaking in upon and interrupting an habitual and permanent 
 belief that there are no ghosts, jars considerably with the doc- 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 409 
 
 trine it is brought to support, that belief is an inseparable asso- 
 ciation. According to that doctrine, here are two inseparable 
 associations, which yet are so far from exclusively possessing 
 the mind, that they alternate with one another, each Insepa- 
 rable implying the separation of the other Inseparable. Tlie 
 association of darkness with the absence of ghosts must be 
 anything but inseparable, if there only needs the presence of 
 darkness to revive the contrary association. Yet an associa- 
 tion so very much short of inseparable, is accompanied, at least 
 in the absence of darkness, by a full belief. Darkness is in 
 this case associated with two incompatible ideas, the idea of 
 ghosts and that of their absence, but with neither of them in- 
 separably, and in consequence the two associations alternately 
 prevail, as the surrounding circumstances favour the one or 
 the "other; agreeably to the laws of Compound Association 
 laid down with great perspicuity and reach of thought by Mr. 
 Bain in his systematic treatise. 
 
 To the argument, that the inseparable associations which 
 create optical and other illusions, do not, when opposed by 
 reason, generate the false belief, the author's answer would pro- 
 bably be some such as the following. When the rational thinker 
 succeeds in resisting the belief, he does so by more or less 
 completely overcoming the inseparableness of the association. 
 Associations may be conquered by the formation of counter- 
 associations. Mankind had formerly an inseparable associa- 
 tion between sunset and the motion of the sun, and this in- 
 separable association compelled them to believe that in the 
 phenomenon of sunset the sun moves and the earth is at rest. 
 But Copernicus, Galileo, and after them, all astronomers, 
 found evidence, that the earth moves and the sun is at rest : 
 in other words, certain experiences, and certain reasonings 
 from those experiences, took place in their minds, the tendency 
 of which was to associate sunset with the ideas of the earth in 
 motion and the sun at rest. This was a counter-association, 
 which could not coexist, at least at the same instant, with the 
 previous association connecting sunset with the sun in motion 
 and the earth at rest. But for a Ions; time the new associa- 
 
410 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 ting influences could not be powerful enough to get the better 
 of the old association, and change the belief which it implied. 
 A belief which has become habitual, is seldom overcome but 
 by a slow process. However, the experiences and mental 
 processes that tended to form the new association still went 
 on ; there was a conflict between the old association and the 
 causes which tended to produce a new one ; until, by the long 
 continuance and frequent repetition of those causes, the old 
 association, gradually undermined, ceased to be inseparable, 
 and it became possible to associate the idea of sunset with that 
 of the earth moving and the sun at rest ; whereby the previous 
 idea of the sun moving and the earth at rest was excluded for 
 the time, and as the new association grew in strength, was at 
 last thrown out altogether. The argument should go on to 
 say that after a still further prolongation of the new experiences 
 and reasonings, the old association became impossible and the 
 new one inseparable ; for, until it became inseparable, there 
 could, according to the theory, be no belief. And this, in truth, 
 does sometimes happen. There are instances in the history of 
 science, even down to the present day, in which something 
 which was once believed to be impossible, and its opposite to 
 be necessary, was first seen to be possible, next to be true, and 
 finally came to be considered as necessarily true, and its oppo- 
 site (once deemed necessary) as impossible, and even incon- 
 ceivable ; insomuch that it is thought by some that what was 
 reputed an impossibility, might have been known to be a 
 necessity. In such cases, the quality of inseparableness has 
 passed, in those minds at least, from the old association to the 
 new one. But in much the greatest number of cases the 
 change does not proceed so far, and both associations remain 
 equally possible. The case which furnished our last instance 
 is an example. Astronomers, and all educated persons, now asso- 
 ciate sunset with motion confined to the earth, and firmly 
 believe this to be what really takes place ; but they have not 
 formed this associatiou with such exclusiveness and intensity 
 as to have become unable to associate sunset with motion of 
 the sun. On the contrary, the visible appearance still suggests 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 411 
 
 motion of the sun, and many people, though aware of the 
 truth, find that they cannot by any effort make themselves 
 see sunset any otherwise than as the sinking of the sun below 
 the earth. My own experience is different : I find that I can 
 represent the phenomenon to myself in either light ; I can, 
 according to the manner in which I direct my thoughts, see 
 sunset either as the earth tilting above the sun, or as the sun 
 dipping below the earth : in the same manner as when a rail- 
 way train in motion passes another at rest, we are able, if we 
 prevent our eyes from resting on any third object, to imagine 
 the motion as being either in the one train or in the other. How, 
 then, can it be said that there is an inseparable association of 
 sunset with the one mode of representation, and a consequent 
 iijability to associate it with the other ? It is associated with 
 both, and the one of the two associations which is nearest to 
 being inseparable is that which belief does not accompany. 
 The difference between different people in the ability to repre- 
 sent to themselves the phenomenon under either aspect, depends 
 rather on the degree of exercise which they have given to their 
 imagination in trying to frame mental pictures conforcLable to 
 the two hypotheses, than upon those considerations of reason 
 and evidence which yet may determine their belief. 
 
 The question still remains, what is there which exists in the 
 hypothesis believed, and does not exist in the hypothesis re- 
 jected, when we have associations which enable our imagina- 
 tion to represent the facts agreeably to either hypothesis ? In 
 other words, what is Belief? 
 
 I think it must be admitted, that when we can represent to 
 ourselves in imagination either of two conflicting suppositions, 
 one of which we believe, and disbelieve the other, neither of 
 the associations can be inseparable ; and there must therefore 
 be in the fact of Belief, which exists in only one of the two 
 cases, something for which inseparable association does not 
 account. We seem to have again come up, on a different side, 
 to the difficulty which we felt in the discussion of Memory, in 
 accounting for the distinction between a fact remembered, and 
 the same fact imagined. There is a close parallelism between 
 
412 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 the two problems. In both, we have the difference between a 
 fact and a representation in imagination ; between a sensation, 
 or combination of sensations, and an idea, or combination of 
 ideas. This difference we all accept as an ultimate fact. But 
 the difficulty is this. Let me first state it as it presents itself 
 in the case of Memory. Having in our mind a certain combi- 
 nation of ideas, in a group or a train, accompanying or suc- 
 ceeding one another ; what is it which, in one case, makes us 
 recognize this group or train as representing a group or train 
 of the corresponding sensations, remembered as having been 
 actually felt by us, while in another case we are aware that 
 "^ the sensations have never occurred to us in a group or train 
 corresponding to that in which we are now having the ideas? 
 This is the problem of Memory. Let me now state the problem 
 of Belief, when the belief is not a case of memory. Here also 
 we have ideas connected in a certain order in our own mind, 
 which makes us think of a corresponding order among the 
 sensations, and we believe that this similar combination of 
 the sensations is a real fact : i.e,, whether we ever felt it or not, 
 we confidently expect that we should feel it under certain 
 given conditions. In Memory, we believe that the realities in 
 Nature, the sensations and combinations of sensations pre- 
 sented to us from without, have occurred to us in an order 
 which agrees with that in which we are representing them to 
 ourselves in thought : in those cases of Belief which are not 
 cases of Memory, we believe, not that they have occurred, but 
 that they would have occurred, or would occur, in that order. 
 
 What is it that takes place in us, when we recognize tha.t 
 there is this agreement between the order of our ideas and the 
 order in which we either had or might have had the sensations 
 which correspond to them — that the order of the ideas repre- 
 sents a similar order either in our actual sensations, or in those 
 which, under some given circumstances, we should have reason 
 to expect ? "What, in short, is the difference to our minds 
 between thinking of a reality, and representing to ourselves an 
 imaginary picture ? I confess that I can perceive no escape 
 from the opinion that the distinction is ultimate and primordial. 
 
CHAP. Xl.J BELIEF. 413 
 
 There is no more difficulty in holding it to be so, than in 
 holding the difference between a sensation and an idea to be 
 primordial. It seems almost another aspect of the same dif- 
 ference. The author himself says, in the chapter on Memory, 
 that, a sensation and an idea being different, it is to be ex- 
 pected that the remembrance of having had a sensation should 
 be different from the remembrance of having had an idea, and 
 that this is a sufficient explanation of our distinguishing them. 
 If this, then, is an original distinction, why should not the dis- 
 tinction be original between the remembrance of having had a 
 sensation, and the actually having an idea (which is the diffe- 
 rence between Memory and Imagination); and between the ex- 
 pectation of having a sensation, and the actually having an idea , 
 (which is the difference between Belief and Imagination) ? 
 Grant these differences, and there is nothing further to explain 
 in the phenomenon of Belief. For every belief is either the 
 memory of having had a sensation (or other feeling), or the 
 expectation that we should have the sensation or feeling in 
 some given state of circumstances, if that state of circum- 
 stances could come to be realized. 
 
 II. 
 
 That all belief is either Memory or Expectation, will be 
 clearly seen if we run over all the different objects of Belief. 
 The author has already done so, in order to establish his 
 theory ; and it is now necessary that we should do the same. 
 
 The objects of Belief are enumerated by the author in the 
 following terms: — 1. Events, real existences. 2. Testimony. 
 3. The truth of propositions. He intended this merely as a 
 rough grouping, sufficient for the purpose if it includes every- 
 thing : for it is evident that the divisions overlap one another, 
 and it will be seen presently that the last two are but cases of 
 the first. 
 
 Belief in events he further divides into belief in present 
 events, in past events, and in future events. Belief in present 
 events he subdivides into belief in immediate existences present 
 to my senses, and belief in immediate existences not present 
 
414 BELIEF. [chap. XT. 
 
 to my senses. We see by this that he recognises no difference, 
 in a metaphysical sense, between existences and events, be- 
 cause he regards, with reason, objects as merely the supposed 
 antecedents of events. The distinction, however, requires to be 
 kept up, being no other than the fundamental difference 
 between simultaneousness, and succession or change. 
 
 Belief in immediate existences present to my senses, is either 
 belief in my sensations, or belief in external objects. Believing 
 that I feel what I am at this moment feeling, is, as the author 
 says, only another name for having the feeling ; with the idea, 
 however, of Myself, associated with it ; of which hereafter. 
 
 The author goes on to analyse Belief in external objects 
 present to our senses ; and he resolves it into a present sensa- 
 tion, united by an irresistible association with the numerous 
 other sensations which we are accuBtomed to receive in con- 
 junction with it. The Object is thus to be understood as a 
 complex idea, compounded of the ideas of various sensations 
 which we have, and of a far greater number of sensations which 
 we should expect to have if certain contingencies were realized. 
 In other words, our idea of an object is an idea of a group of 
 possibilities of sensation, some of which we believe we can 
 realize at pleasure, while the remainder would be realized if 
 certain conditions took place, on which, by the laws of nature, 
 they are dependent. As thus explained, belief in the existence 
 of a physical object, is belief in the occurrence of certain sen- 
 sations, contingently on certain previous conditions. This is 
 a state of mind closely allied to Expectation of sensations. 
 Por — though we use the name Expectation only with reference 
 to the future, and even to the probable future — our state of 
 mind in respect to what may be future, and even to what might 
 have been future, is of the same general nature, and depends 
 on the same principles, as Expectation. I believe that a cer- 
 tain event will positively happen, because the known conditions 
 which always accompany it in experience have already taken 
 place. I believe that another event will certainly happen if 
 the known conditions which always accompany it take place, 
 and those conditions I can produce when I please. I believe 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 415 
 
 that a third event will happen if its conditions take place, hut 
 I must wait for those conditions ; I cannot realize them at 
 pleasure, and may never realize them at all. The first of these 
 three cases is positive expectation, the other two are condi- 
 tional expectation. A fourth case is my belief that the event 
 would have happened at any former time if the conditions had 
 taken place at that time. It is not consonant to usage to call 
 this Expectation, but^ considered as a case of belief, there is no 
 essential difference between it and the third case. My belief 
 that I should have heard Cicero had I been present in the 
 Forum, and my belief that I shall hear Mr. Gladstone if I am 
 present in the House of Commons, can nowise be regarded as 
 essentially different phenomena. The one we call Expectation, 
 the other not, but the mental principle operative in both these 
 cases of belief is the same. 
 
 The author goes on to say, that the belief that we should 
 have the sensations if certain conditions were realized, that is, 
 if we had certain other sensations, is merely an inseparable 
 association of the two sets of sensations with one another, 
 and their inseparable union with the idea of ourselves as having 
 them. But I confess it seems to me that all this may exist in 
 a case of simple imagination. The author would himself admit 
 that the complex idea of the object, in all its fulness, may be 
 in the mind without belief. What remains is its association 
 with the idea of ourselves as percipients. But this also, I 
 cannot but think, we may have in the case of an imaginary 
 scene, when we by no means believe that any corresponding 
 reality exists. Does the idea of our own personality never 
 enter into the pictures in our imagination ? Are we not our- 
 selves present in the scenes which we conjure up in our minds ? 
 I apprehend we are as constantly present in them, and, as con- 
 scious of our presence, as we are in contemplating a real 
 prospect. In either case the vivacity of the other impressions 
 eclipses, for the most part, the thought of ourselves as spec- 
 tators, but not more so in the imaginary, than in the real, 
 spectacle. 
 
 It appears to me, then, that to account for belief in external 
 
416 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 objects, we must postulate Expectation ; and since all our ex- 
 pectations, whether positive or contingent, are a consequence 
 of our Memory of the past (as distinguished from a repre- 
 sentation in fancy), we must also postulate Memory. The 
 distinction between a mere combination of ideas in thought, 
 and one which recals to us a combination of sensations as 
 actually experienced, always returns on our hands as an ulti- 
 mate postulate. 
 
 The author proceeds to shew how this idea of a mere group 
 of sensations, actual or contingent, becomes knit up with an 
 idea of a permanent Something, lying, as it were, under these 
 sensations, and causing them ; this further enlargement of the 
 complex idea taking place through the intimate, or, as he 
 calls it, inseparable association, generated by experience, which 
 makes us unable to imagine any phenomenon as beginning to 
 exist without something anterior to it which causes it. This 
 explanation, seems to me quite correct as far as it goes ; but, 
 while it accounts for the difficulty we have in not ascribing our 
 sensations to some cause or other, it does not explain why we 
 accept, as in fact we do, the group itself as the cause. I have 
 endeavoured to clear up this difficulty elsewhere (Examination 
 of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy), and in preference to 
 going over the ground a second time, I subjoin, at the end of 
 the volume, the chapter containing the explanation. That 
 chapter supplies all that appears to me to be further necessary 
 on the subject of belief in outward objects ; which is thus 
 shewn to be a case of Conditional Expectation. 
 
 It is unnecessary to follow the author into the minute con- 
 sideration of Belief in the existence of objects not present 
 since the explanation already given equally applies to them. 
 My belief in the present existence of St. Paul's i^ correctly 
 set forth by the author as consisting of the following elements : 
 I believe that I have seen St. Paul's : I believe that I shall see 
 St. Paul's, when I am again in St. Paul's Churchyard : I 
 believe that I should see St. Paul's, if I were in St. Paul's 
 Churchyard at this instant. All this, as he justly remarks, is 
 Memory or Expectation. And this, or some part of this, is 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 417 
 
 the whole of what is in any case meant by belief in the real 
 existence of an external object. The author adds, I also be- 
 lieve that if any creature whose senses are analogous to my 
 own, is now in St. Paul's Churchyard, it has the present sen- 
 sation of that edifice. But this belief is not necessary to my 
 belief in the continued existence of St. Paul's. For that, it 
 suffices that I believe I should myself see it. My belief that 
 other creatures would do so, is part of my belief in the real 
 existence of other creatures like myself ; which is no more 
 mysterious, than our belief in the real existence of any other 
 objects some of whose properties rest not on direct sensation, 
 but on inference. 
 
 Belief in past existences, when those existences have been 
 perceived by ourselves, is Memory. When the past existences 
 are inferred from evidence, the belief of them is not Memory, 
 but a fact of the same nature as Expectation ; being a belief 
 that we should have had the sensations if we had been cotem- 
 porary with the objects, and had been in the local position 
 necessary for receiving sensible impressions from them. 
 
 We now come to the case of Belief in testimony. But 
 testimony is not itself an object of belief. The object of belief 
 is what the testimony asserts. And so in the last of the 
 author's three cases, that of assent to a proposition. The 
 object of belief, in both these cases, is an assertion. But an 
 assertion is something asserted, and what is asserted must be 
 a fact, similar to some of those of which we have already 
 treated. According to the author, belief in an assertion is 
 belief that two names are both of them names of the same 
 thing : but this we have felt ourselves obliged to discard, as an 
 inadequate explanation of the import of any assertions, except 
 those which are classed as merely verbal. Every assertion 
 concerning Things, whether in concrete or in abstract language, 
 is an assertion that some fact, or group of facts, has been, is, 
 or may be expected to be, found, wherever a certain other fact, 
 or group of facts, is found. Belief in this, is therefore either 
 remembrance that we did have, or expectation that we shall ^ 
 have, or a belief of the same nature with expectation that in 
 
 VOL. L E E 
 
418 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 some given circumstances we should have, or should have had, 
 direct perception of a particular fact. Belief, therefore, is 
 always a case either of Memory or of Expectation ; including 
 under the latter name conditional as well as positive expecta- 
 tion, and the state of mind similar to expectation which affects 
 us in regard to what would have been a subject of expectation, 
 if the conditions of its realization had still been possible. 
 
 It may be objected, that we may believe iu the real existence 
 of things which are not objects of sense at all. We may. 
 But we cannot believe in the real existence of anything which 
 •we do not conceive as capable of acting in some way upon our 
 own or some other being's consciousness ; though the state of 
 consciousness it produces may not be called a sensation. The 
 existence of a thing means, to us, merely its capacity of pro- 
 ducing an impression of some sort upon some mind, that is, of 
 producing some state of consciousness. The belief, therefore, 
 in its existence, is still a conditional expectation of something 
 which we should, under some supposed circumstances, be 
 capable of feeling. 
 
 To resume : Belief, as I conceive, is more than an insepa- 
 rable association, for inseparable associations do not always 
 generate belief, nor does belief always require, as one of its 
 conditions, an inseparable association : we can believe that to 
 be true which we are capable of conceiving or representing to 
 ourselves as false, and false what we are capable of representing 
 to ourselves as true. The difference between belief and mere 
 imagination, is the difference between recognisingsomething as a 
 reality in nature, and regarding it as a mere thought of our own. 
 This is the difference which presents itself when Memory has to 
 be distingui shed from Imagination ; an d again when Expectation, 
 whether positive or contingent (i.e. whether it be expectation that 
 we shall, or only persuasion that in certain definable circum- 
 stances we should, have a certain experience) has to be distin- 
 guished from the mere mental conception of that experience. 
 
 III. 
 
 Let us examine, once more, whether the speculations in the 
 text afford us any means of further analysing this difference. 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 419 
 
 The difference presents itself in its most elementary form in 
 the distinction between a sensation and an idea. The author 
 admits this distinction to be ultimate and primordial. " A 
 " sensation is different from an idea, only because it is felt to be 
 " different." But, after having admitted that these two states of 
 consciousness are distinguishable from each other in and by 
 themselves, he adds, that they are also distinguishable by 
 their accompaniments. " The accompaniments of a sensation 
 
 " are always generically different from those of an idea 
 
 " The accompaniments of a sensation, are all the simultaneous 
 " objects of sensation, together with all those which, to a cer- 
 " tain extent, both preceded and followed it. The accompani- 
 " ments of an idea are not the simultaneous objects of sensation, 
 "but other ideas; namel}', the neighbouring facts, antecedent 
 " and consequent, of the mental train/' There can be no 
 doubt that in those individual cases in which ideas and sensa- 
 tions might be confounded, namely, when an idea reaches or 
 approaches the vivacity of a sensation, the indication here 
 pointed out helps to assure us that what we are conscious of 
 is, nevertheless, only an idea. When, for instance, we awake 
 from a dream, and open our eyes to the outward world, what 
 makes us so promptly recognise that this and not the other is 
 the real world, is that we find its phenomena connected in the 
 accustomed order of our objects of sensation. But though 
 this circumstance enables us, in particular instances, to 
 refer our impression more instantaneously to one or the 
 other class, it cannot be by this that we distinguish ideas at 
 first from sensations ; for the criterion supposes the distinc- 
 tion to be already made. If wejudgeasensationtobe asensa- 
 tion because its accompaniments are other sensations, and an 
 idea to be an idea because its accompaniments are other ideas, 
 we must already be able to distinguish those other sensations 
 from those other ideas. 
 
 A similar remark is applicable to a criterion between sensa- 
 tions and ideas, incidentally laid down by Mr. Bain in the 
 First Part of his systematic treatise. "A mere picture or 
 *' idea remains the same whatever be our bodily position or 
 
 E E 2 
 
420 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 " bodily exertions ; the sensation that we call the actual is 
 ** entirely at the mercy of our movements, shifting in every 
 " possible way according to the varieties of action that we go 
 "through." {The Senses and the Intellect, 2nd ed. p. 381.) 
 This test, like the author's, may serve in cases of momentary 
 doubt ; but sensations in genera] must have been already dis- 
 tinguished from ideas, before we could have hit upon this 
 criterion between them. If we had not already known the 
 difference between a sensation and an idea, we never could 
 have discovered that one of them is " at the mercy of our 
 movements/' and that the other is not. 
 
 It being granted that a sensation and an idea are ipso facto 
 distinguishable, the author thinks it no more than natural* that 
 "the copy of the sensation should be distinguishable from the 
 " revival of the idea, when they are both brought up by asso- 
 "ciation." But he adds, that there is another distinction be- 
 tween the memory of a sensation, and the memory of an idea, 
 and it is this. In all Memory the idea of self forms part of 
 the complex idea ; but in the memory of sensation, the self 
 which enters into the remembrance is "the sentient self, that 
 '* is, seeing and hearing :" in the memory of an idea, it is " not 
 *' the sentient self, but the conceptive self, self having an idea. 
 "But" (he adds) '* myself percipient, and myself imagining, or 
 " conceiving, are two very different states of consciousness : of 
 " course the ideas of these states of consciousness, or these 
 " states revived by association^ are very different ideas." 
 
 Concerning the fact there is no dispute. Myself percipient, 
 and myself imagining or conceiving, are different states, 
 because perceiving is a different thing from imagining ; and 
 being different states, the remembrance of them is, as might be 
 expected, different. But the question is, in what does the dif- 
 ference between the remembrances consist ? The author calls 
 one of them the idea of myself perceiving, and the other the 
 idea of myself imagining, and thinks there is no other difference. 
 But how do the idea of myself having a sensation, and the 
 idea of myself having an idea of that sensation, differ from 
 one another ? since in either case an idea of the sensation is all 
 
CHAP. XI.J BELIEF. 421 
 
 that I am having now. The thought of myself perceiving a 
 thing at a former time, and the thought of myself imagining 
 the thing at that former time, are both at the present moment 
 facts of imagination — are now merely ideas. In each case I 
 have an ideal representation of myself, as conscious in a man- 
 ner very similar in the two cases ; though not exactly the same, 
 smce in the one case I remember to have been conscious of a 
 sensation, in the other, to have been conscious only of an idea 
 of that sensation : but, in either case, that past consciousness 
 enters only as an idea, into the consciousness I now have by 
 recollection. In what, then, as far as mere ideas are concerned, 
 do my present mental representations of the two cases differ ? 
 Will it be said, that the idea of the sensation is one thing, 
 the idea of the idea of the sensation another thinsr ? Or are 
 they both the same idea, namely, the idea of the sensation ; and 
 is the element that is present in the one case, but absent in 
 the other, not an idea but something else ? A difference there 
 is admitted to be between the remembrance of having had a 
 sensation, and the remembrance of having merely thought of 
 the sensation, ie. had the idea of it ; is this difference a dif- 
 ference in the ideas I have in the two cases, or is the idea the 
 same, but accompanied in the one case by something not an 
 idea, which does not exist in the other ? for if so, this some- 
 thing is a Belief. 
 
 I have touched upon this question in a former note, and 
 expressed my inability to recognise, in the idea of an idea, 
 anything but the idea itself; in the thought of a thought, 
 anything but a repetition of the thought. My thought of Fal- 
 staff, as far as I can perceive, is not a copy but a repetition of 
 the thought I had of him when I first read Shakespeare ; not 
 indeed an exact repetition, because all complex ideas undergo 
 modification by time, some elements fading away, and new 
 ones being added by reverting to the original sources or by 
 subsequent associations ; but my first mental image of Falstaff, 
 and my present one, do not differ as the thought of a rose 
 differs from the sight of one ; as an idea of sensation differs 
 from the sensation. On this point the author was perhaps o f 
 
422 BELIEF. [chap. XI. 
 
 the same opinion, since we find him contrasting the " copy" 
 of the sensation with the "revival" of the idea, as if the 
 latter was a case of simple repetition, the former not. It 
 would have been well if he had made this point a subject of 
 express discussion ; for if his opinion upon it was what, from 
 this passage, we may suppose it to have been, it involves a 
 serious difficulty. If (he says) a sensation and an idea "are 
 ** distiuguishable in the having, it is likely that the copy of 
 "the sensation should be distinguishable from the revival of 
 " the idea." But the copy of the sensation is the idea ; so that, 
 on this shewing, the idea is distinguishable from its own re- 
 vival, that is, from the same idea when it occurs again. The 
 author's theory would thus require him to maintain that an 
 idea revived is a specifically different idea, and not the same idea 
 repeated : since otherwise the two states of mind, so far as re- 
 gards the ideas contained in them, are undistinguishable, and 
 it is necessary to admit the presence in Memory of some other 
 element. 
 
 Let us put another case. Instead of Falstaff, suppose a 
 real person whom I have seen : for example General Lafayette. 
 My idea of Lafayette is almost wholly, what my idea of Fal- 
 staff is entirely, a creation of thought : only a very small por- 
 tion of it is derived from my brief experience of seeing and 
 conversing with him. But I have a remembrance of having 
 seen Lafayette, and no remembrance of having seen Falstaff, 
 but only of having thought of him. Is it a sufficient explana- 
 tion of this difference to say, that I have an idea of myself 
 seeing and hearing Lafayette, and only an idea of myself 
 thinking of Falstaff ? But I can form a vivid idea of myself 
 seeing and hearing Falstaff. I can without difficulty imagine 
 myself in the field of Shrewsbury, listening to his charac- 
 teristic soliloquy over the body of Hotspur ; or in the tavern 
 in the midst of his associates, hearing his story of his encounter 
 with the men in buckram. When I recal the scene, I can as 
 little detach it from the idea of myself as present, as I can in 
 the case of most things of which I was really an eye-witness. 
 The spontaneous presence of the idea of Myself in the con- 
 
CHAP. XI.] BELIEF. 423 
 
 ception, is always that of myself as percipient. The idea of 
 myself as in a state of mere imagination, only substitutes 
 itself for the other when something reminds me that the scene 
 is merely imaginary. 
 
 I cannot help thinking, therefore, that there is in the remem- 
 brance of a real fact, as distinguished from that of a thought, i 
 an element which does not consist, as the author supposes, in 
 a difference between the mere ideas which are present to the ; 
 mind in the two cases. This element, howsoever we define it, 
 constitutes Belief, and is the difference between Memory and i 
 Imagination. From whatever direction we approach, this dif- i 
 ference seems to close our path. When we arrive at it, we 
 seem to have reached, as it were^ the central point of our intel- 
 lectual nature, presupposed and built upon in every attempt 
 we make to explain the more recondite phenomena of our 
 mental bein^. — Ed, 
 
424 RATIOCINATION. [cHAP. Xll- 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 RATIOCINATION. 
 
 *' It would afford great light and clearness to the art of Logic, 
 to determine the precise nature and composition of the ideas 
 affixed to those words which have complex ideas ; i.e., which 
 excite any combinations of simple ideas, united intimately by 
 association." — Hartley, ^rop. 12, Corol. 3. 
 
 Ratiocination is one of the most complicated of 
 all the mental phenomena. And it is worthy of 
 notice, that more was accomplished towards the 
 analysis of it, at an early period in the history of 
 intellectual improvement, than of any other of the 
 complex cases of human consciousness. 
 
 It was fully explained by Aristotle, that the simplest 
 case of Ratiocination consists of three propositions, 
 which he called a syllogism. A piece of ratiocination 
 may consist of one, or more syllogisms, to any ex- 
 tent ; but every single step is a syllogism. 
 
 A ratiocination, then, or syllogism, is first resolved 
 into three propositions. The following may be taken 
 as one of the simplest of all examples. '' AU men are 
 animals : kings are men : therefore kmgs are animals." 
 
 Next, the Proposition is resolved into its proximate 
 elements. These are three ; two Terms, one called 
 the Subject, the other the Predicate, and the Copula, 
 
CHAP. XII.] RATIOCINATION". 425 
 
 What is the particular nature of each of these elements 
 we have already seen, and here, therefore, need not 
 stay to inquire. 
 
 The ancient writers on Logic proceeded in their 
 analysis, no farther than Terms. After this, they 
 only endeavoured to enumerate and classify terms; to 
 enumerate and classify propositions ; to enumerate and 
 classify syllogisms ; and to give the rules for making 
 correct syllogisms, and detecting incorrect ones. And 
 this, as taught by them, constituted the whole science 
 and art of Logic. 
 
 What, under this head, we propose to explain, is — 
 the process of association involved in the syllogism, 
 and in the behef which is part of it. 
 
 That part of the process which is involved in the 
 two antecedent propositions, called the premises, has 
 been already explained. It is only, therefore, the 
 third proposition, called the conclusion, which further 
 requii'es exposition. 
 
 We have seen, that in the proposition, " All men 
 are animals," Belief is merely the recognition that the 
 meaning of the term, ''all men," is included in that 
 of the term ''animals," and that the recognition is a 
 case of association. In the proposition also, " kings 
 are men," the belief is merely the recognition, that the 
 individuals named "kings," are part of the many, of 
 whom " men," is the common name. This has aheady 
 been more than once explained. And now, therefore, 
 remains only to be shewn what further is involved 
 in the third proposition, or conclusion, "kings are 
 animals." 
 
 In each of the two preceding propositions, two 
 terms or names are compared. In the last proposi- 
 
426 RATIOCINATION. [cHAP. XII. 
 
 tion, a third name is compared with both the other 
 two ; immediately with the one, and, through that, 
 with the other ; the whole, obviously, a complicated 
 case of association. 
 
 In the first proposition, " all men are animals," the 
 term, " all men," is compared with the term animals ; 
 in other words, a certain association, already ex- 
 pounded, takes place. In the second proposition, 
 "kings are men," the term "kings," is compared 
 with the term "all men;" comparison here, again, 
 being only a name for a particular case of association. 
 In the third proposition, " kings are animals," the 
 name " kings," is compared with the name " animals," 
 but mediately through the name, " all men." Thus, 
 "kings," is associated with "aU men," " aU men," 
 with "animals;" "kings," therefore, with "animals," 
 by a complicated, and, at the same time, a rapid, and 
 almost imperceptible process. It would be easy to 
 mark the steps of the association. But this would be 
 tedious, and after so much practice, the reader wUl be 
 at no loss to set them down for himself ^°^ 
 
 109 "Phis chapter, which is of a very summary character, is 
 a prolongation of the portion of the chapter on Belief, which 
 examines the case of belief in the truth of a proposition ; and 
 must stand or fall with it. The question considered is, how, 
 from belief in the truth of the two premises of a syllogism, 
 we pass into belief in the conclusion. The exposition proceeds 
 on the untenable theory of the import of propositions, on 
 which I have so often had occasion to comment. That theory, 
 however, was not necessary to the author for shewing how two 
 ideas may become inseparably associated through the insepa- 
 rable association of each of them with a third idea : and inas- 
 much as an inseparable association between the subject and 
 
CHAP. XII.] RATIOCINATION. 427 
 
 predicate, in the aathor^s opinion, constitutes belief, an ex- 
 planation of ratiocination conformable to that given of belief 
 follows as a matter of course. 
 
 Although I am unable to admit that there is nothing in 
 belief but an inseparable association, and although I maintain 
 that there may be belief without an inseparable association, I 
 can still accept this explanation of the formation of an associa- 
 tion between the subject and predicate of the conclusion, which, 
 ■when close and intense, has, as we have seen, a strong ten- 
 dency to generate belief. But to shew what it is that gives 
 the belief its validity, we must fall back on logical laws, the 
 laws of evidence. And independently of the question of vali- 
 dity, we shall find in the reliance on those laws, so far as they 
 are understood, the source and origin of all beliefs, whether 
 well or ill-founded, which are not the almost mechanical or 
 automatic products of a strong association — of the lively 
 suggestion of an idea. We may therefore pass at once to 
 the nature of Evidence, which is the subject of the next 
 chapter. 
 
 I venture to refer, in passing, to those chapters in my System 
 of Logic, in which I have maintained, contrary to what is laid 
 down in this chapter, that Ratiocination does not consist of 
 Syllogisms ; that the Syllogism is not the analysis of what the 
 mind does in reasoning, but merely a useful formula into which 
 it can translate its reasonings, gaining thereby a great increase 
 in the security for their .correctness. — Ed, 
 
428 EVIDENCE. [chap. XIII. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 EVIDENCE. 
 
 " In consequence of some very wonderful laws, which regulate 
 the successions of our mental phenomena, the science of mind is, 
 in all its most important respects, a science of analysis." — 
 Brown's Led,, i., 108. 
 
 Before leaving the subject of Belief, it will be 
 proper to shew, in a few words, what is included, 
 under the name Evidence. Evidence, is either the 
 same thing with Belief, or it is the antecedent, of 
 which Behef is the consequent. 
 
 Belief we have seen to be of two sorts : Belief of 
 events ; Behef of propositions. 
 
 Of events, believed on our own experience, the 
 evidence of the present is sense ; of the past, memory; 
 and in these cases, the evidence and the belief are not 
 two things, but one and the same thing. The lamp, 
 which at this moment lights me, I say that I see 
 burning, and that I believe it burning. These are 
 two names of one and the same state of consciousness. 
 — " I remember it was burning at the same hour last 
 night," and "I believe it was burning at the same 
 hour last night," are also two expressions for the 
 same thing. — In the simple anticipation of the future, 
 from the past, also, the evidence, and the behef, are 
 
CHAP. XIII.] EVIDENCE. 429 
 
 not two things, but one and the same thing. There 
 is a close and inseparable association of the idea of a 
 like antecedent, with the idea of a like consequent. 
 This has not a single name, like memory ; but, Kke 
 memory, it is both evidence and belief 
 
 The case of testimony is different. The Testimony 
 is one thing, the Belief is another. The name Evi- 
 dence is given to the testimony. The association of 
 the testimony, with the event testified, is the belief 
 
 Beside the behef of events which are the immediate 
 objects of sense, of memory, and of anticipation (the 
 consequence of sense and memory), and of those 
 which are the immediate objects of testimony; there 
 is a behef of events which are not the immediate 
 objects of any of those operations. The sailor, who 
 is shipwrecked on an unknown coast, sees the prints 
 of a man's foot on the sand. The print of the foot is 
 here called the evidence ; the association of the print, 
 as consequent, with a man, as antecedent, is called 
 the belief In this case, the sensation of one event, 
 the print of a foot on the sand, induces the belief of 
 another event, the existence of a man. The sailor 
 who has seen the mark, reports it to his companions 
 who have not quitted the wreck. Instantly they 
 have the same belief; but it is a remove farther off, 
 and there is an additional link of evidence. The first 
 event to them, is the affirmation of their companion ; 
 the second, the existence of the print ; the third, that 
 of the man. There is here evidence of evidence ; the 
 testimony, evidence of the print ; the print, evidence 
 of the man.' 
 
 The companions of the sailor, having themselves 
 gone on shore, perceive, indeed, no man, but see a 
 
430 EVIDENCE. [chap. XIII. 
 
 large monkey, which leaves prints on the sand very 
 much resembling those which had first been per- 
 ceived by their companion. What is now the state 
 of their minds ? Doubt. But doubt is a name ; 
 what do we call by that name 1 A phenomenon of 
 some complexity, but of which the elements are not 
 very diflficult to trace. There is, here, a double asso- 
 ciation with the print of the foot. There is the asso- 
 ciation of a man, and there is the association of a 
 monkey. First, the print raises the idea of a man, 
 but the instant it does so, it raises also the idea of a 
 monkey. The idea of the monkey, displacing that of 
 the man, hinders the first association firom the fixity 
 which makes it belief ; and the idea of man, displacing 
 that of monkey, hinders the second association from 
 that fixity which constitutes belief 
 
 When evidence is complex ; that is, consists of 
 more than one event ; the events may be all on the 
 same side, or not all on the same side ; that is, 
 they may all tend to prove the same event ; or some 
 of them may tend to prove it, some may have an 
 opposite tendency. 
 
 Thus, if after discovering the print on the sand, 
 the sailors had seen near it a stick, which had any 
 appearance of having been fashioned into a club, or a 
 spear, — this would have been another event, tending, 
 as well as the print on the sand, to the belief of the 
 presence of men. The evidence would have been 
 complex, but all on one side. The process is easy to 
 trace. There is now a double association with the 
 existence of men. The print of the foot excites that 
 idea, the existence of the club excites that idea. This 
 double excitement gives greater permanence to the 
 
CHAP. XIII.] EVIDENCE. 431 
 
 idea. By repetition, the two exciting causes coalesce, 
 and, by their united strength, call up the associated 
 idea with greater force. 
 
 In the case of the appearance of the monkey, in 
 which one of the events tended to one behef, the 
 other to another, we have just seen that the effect is 
 precisely contrary ; to lessen the strength of the 
 association with the existence of a man, and to hinder 
 its becoming belief. 
 
 These expositions may be applied with ease to the 
 other cases of complex evidence, which can only con- 
 sist of a greater or less number of events, either all 
 tending to the belief of the same event, or some tend- 
 ing that way, some another; but all operating in 
 the manner which has just been pointed out. Thus 
 we may comphcate the present case still further, by 
 the supposition of additional events. After the ap- 
 pearance of the monkey, the sailors may discover, in 
 the neighbourhood, the vestiges of a recent fire, and 
 of the victuals which had been cooked by it. The 
 association of human beings with these appearances is 
 so strong, that, combined with the association between 
 the print and the same idea, it quite obscures the 
 association between the print and the monkey ; and 
 the belief that the place has inhabitants becomes 
 complete. But suppose, further ; that after a little 
 observation, they discover an English knife, and fork, 
 and a piece of English earthenware near the same 
 place. The idea of an English ship having touched 
 at the place, is immediately excited, and all the evi- 
 dence of local inhabitants, derived from the marks of 
 fire and cookery, is immediately destroyed. In other 
 words, a new association, that with an English ship. 
 
432 EVIDENCE. [chap. XIII. 
 
 is created, which completely supersedes the idea, 
 formerly associated, that of inhabitants existing on 
 the spot. 
 
 The whole of the events, which go in this manner 
 to form a case of behef, or of doubt, or of disbelief, 
 are called Evidence. And the association, which 
 binds them together into a sort of whole, as antece- 
 dent, and connects with them the event to which they 
 apply as consequent, and which constitutes the belief, 
 doubt, or disbelief, very often goes by the names of 
 ''judgment," "judging of the evidence,'' "weighing 
 the evidence," and so on. 
 
 In these cases of the belief of Events upon com- 
 phcated evidence, there is an antecedent and a con- 
 sequent ; the antecedent consisting of all the events 
 which are caUed evidence, the consequent of the event, 
 or events evidenced ; and lastly, there is that close 
 association of the antecedent and the consequent, 
 which we have seen already, in so many instances, 
 constitutes belief 
 
 We have now to consider, what we call evidence in 
 the case of the Belief of Propositions. 
 
 There are two cases of the Belief of propositions. 
 There is behef in the case of the single proposition ; 
 and there is belief of the conclusion of a syllogism, 
 which is the result of a combination of Propositions. 
 
 We have seen what the process of belief in Propo- 
 sitions is. The subject and predicate, two names for 
 the same thing, of which the predicate is either of the 
 same extent with the subject, or of a greater extent, 
 suggests, each of them, its meaning ; that is, call up, 
 by association, each of them, its peculiar cluster of 
 ideas. Two clusters of ideas are called up in con- 
 
CHAP. XII.] EVIDENCE. 433 
 
 nexion, and that a peculiar connexion, marked by the 
 copula. To have two clusters of ideas, to know that 
 they are two, and to believe that they are two, this is 
 nothing more than three expressions for the same 
 thing. To know that two clusters are two clusters, 
 and to know that they are either the same, or diffe- 
 rent, is the same with having them. In this case, 
 then, as in that of the belief of events, in sense and 
 memory, the belief and the evidence are the same thing. 
 Belief of the conclusion of a syllogism, is preceded 
 by two other beliefs There is behef of the major 
 proposition ; belief of the minor proposition ; by the 
 process immediately above explained, in which the 
 evidence and the belief are the same thing. These 
 are the antecedent. There is, thirdly, belief of the 
 conclusion, this is the consequent. The process of 
 this belief has been so recently explained, that I do 
 not think we need to repeat it. In this case, it is 
 sometimes said, that the two premises are the evi- 
 dence ; sometimes it is said, that the ratiocination is 
 the evidence ; in the former of these applications of 
 the word evidence, the belief of the concluding pro- 
 position of the syllogism is not included ; in the last, 
 it is. The ratiocination is the belief of all the three 
 propositions ; and, in this acceptation of the word, the 
 evidence and the belief are not considered as two 
 things, but one and the same thing. This, however, 
 is only a difference of naming. About the particulars 
 named, there is no room for dispute. ^^^ 
 
 ^^^ This chapter on Evidence is supplementary to the chapter 
 on Belief, and is intended to analyse the process of weighing 
 and balancing opposing grounds for believing. 
 VOL. L 'FF 
 
434 EVIDENCE. [chap. XII. 
 
 Evidence is either of individual facts (not actually perceived 
 by oneself), or of general truths. The former is the only case 
 to which much attention is paid in the present chapter ; which 
 very happily illustrates it, by the case of navigators having to 
 decide on the existence or non-existence of inhabitants in a 
 newly discovered island. The process of balancing the evi- 
 dence for and against, is depicted in a very lively manner. Let 
 us see whether the mental facts set down in the exposition, are 
 precisely those which take place.. 
 
 When the sailors have seen prints of a foot, resembling those 
 of a man, the idea is raised of a man making the print. When 
 they afterwards see a monkey, whose feet leave traces almost 
 similar, the idea is also raised of a monkey making the print, 
 and the state of their minds, the author says^ is doubt. Of 
 this state he gives the following analysis : " There is here a 
 " double association with the print of the foot. There is the 
 " association of a man, and there is the association of a 
 " monkey. First, the print raises the idea of a man, but the 
 " instant it does so, it raises also the idea of a monkey. The 
 " idea of the monkey, displacing that of the man, hinders the 
 *' first association from the fixity which makes it belief; and 
 " the idea of man, displacing that of monkey, hinders the 
 " second association from that fixity which constitutes belief." 
 
 This passage deserves to be studied ; for without having 
 carefully weighed it, we cannot be certain that we are in com- 
 plete possession of the author's theory of Belief. 
 
 There are two conflicting associations with the print of the 
 foot. The picture of a man making it, cannot co- exist with 
 that of a monkey making it. But the two may alternate with 
 one another. Had the association with a man been the only 
 association, it would^ or might (for on this point the author is 
 not explicit) have amounted to belief. But the idea of the 
 monkey and that of the man alternately displacing one another, 
 hinder either association from having the fixity which would 
 make it belief. 
 
 This alternation, however, between the two ideas, of a 
 monkey making the footprint and of a man making it, may 
 
CHAP. XII.] EVIDENCE. 435 
 
 very well take place without hinder'mg one of the two from 
 being accompanied by b^^lief. Suppose the sailors to obtain 
 couclusive evidence, testiuionial or circumstantial, that the 
 prints were made by a monkey. It may happen, nevertheless, 
 that the remarkable resemblance of the foot prints to those of 
 a man, does not cease to force itself upon their notice : in 
 other v^ords, they continue to associate the idea of a man with 
 the footsteps ; they are reminded of a man, and of a man 
 making the footsteps, every time they see or think of them. 
 The double association, therefore, may subsist, and the one 
 which does not correspond with the fact may even be the most 
 obtrusive of the two, while yet the other conception may be 
 the one with which the men believe the real facts to have 
 corresponded. 
 
 All the rest of the exposition is open to the same criticism. 
 The author accounts very accurately for the presence of all 
 the ideas which the successive appearance of the various articles 
 of evidence arouses in the mind. But he does not shew that 
 the belief, which is ultimately arrived at, is constituted by the 
 expulsion from the mind of one set of these ideas, and the 
 exclusive possession of it by the other set. It is quite pos- 
 sible that neither of the associations may acquire the "fixity" 
 which, according to the apparent meaning of the author, 
 would defeat the other association altogether, and drive away 
 the conception which it suggests ; and yet, one of the sup- 
 positions may be believed and the other disbelieved, according 
 to the balance of evidence, as estimated by the investigator. 
 Belief, then, which has been already shewn not to require an 
 inseparable association, appears not to require even " fixity" — ■ 
 such fixity as to exclude the idea of the conflicting supposi- 
 tion, as it does exclude the belief. 
 
 The problem of Evidence divides itself into two distinguish- 
 able enquiries: what effect evidence ought to produce, and 
 what determines the effect that it does produce ; how our 
 belief ought to be regulated, and how, in point of fact, it is 
 regulated. The first enquiry — that into the nature and proba- 
 tive force of evidence : the discussion of what proves what, and 
 
 F F 2 
 
436 EVIDENCE. [chap. xit. 
 
 of the precautions needed in admitting one thing as proof of 
 another — are the province of Logic, understood in its widest 
 sense : and for its treatment we nnust refer to treatises on Logic, 
 either inductive or ratiociuative. All that would be in place 
 here, reduces itself to a single principle : In all cases, except 
 the case of what we are directly conscious of (in which case, 
 as the author justly observes, the evidence and the belief are 
 one and the same thing) — in all cases, therefore, in which 
 belief is really grounded on evidence, it is grounded, in the 
 ultimate result, on the constancy of the course of nature. 
 Whether the belief be of facts or of laws, and whether of past 
 facts or of those which are present or future, this is the basis 
 on which it rests. Whatever it is that we believe, the justifi- 
 cation of the belief must be, that unless it were true, the 
 uniformity of the course of nature would not be maintained. 
 A cause would have occurred, not followed by its invariable 
 effect ; an effect would have occurred, not preceded by any of its 
 invariable causes ; witnesses would have lied, who have always 
 been known to speak the truth ; signs would have proved de- 
 ceptive, which in human experience have always given true indi- 
 cation. This is obvious, whatever case of belief on evidence 
 we examine. Belief in testimony is grounded on previous 
 experience that testimony is usually conformable to fact : 
 testimony in general (for even this may with truth be affirmed) ; 
 or the testimony of the particular witness, or the testimony of 
 persons similar to him. Belief that the sun will rise and set 
 to-morrow, or that a stone thrown up into the air will fall back, 
 rests on experience that this has been invariably the case, and 
 reliance that what has hitherto occurred will continue to occur 
 hereafter. Belief in a fact vouched for by circumstantial 
 evidence, rests on experience that such circumstances as are 
 ascertained to exist in the case, never exist unaccompanied by 
 the given fact. What we call evidence, whether complete or 
 incomplete, always consists of facts or events tending to con- 
 vince us that some ascertained general truths or laws of nature 
 must have proved false, if the conclusion which the evidence 
 points to is not true. 
 
CHAP. XII.] EVIDENCE. 437 
 
 Belief on evidence is therefore always a case of the gene- 
 ralizing process ; of the assumption that what we have not 
 directly experienced resembles, or will resemble, our experience. 
 And, properly understood, this assumption is true ; for the 
 whole course of nature consists of a concurrence of causes, pro- 
 ducing their effects in a uniform manner ; but the uniformity 
 which exists is often not that which our first impressions lead 
 us to expect. Mr. Bain has well pointed out, that the gene- 
 ralizing propensity, in a mind not disciplined by thought, nor 
 as yet warned by its own failures, far outruns the evidence, or 
 rather, precedes any conscious consideration of evidence ; and 
 that what the consideration of evidence has to do when it 
 comes, is not so much to make us generalize, as to limit our 
 spontaneous impulse of generalization, and restrain within just 
 bounds our readiness to believe that the unknown will resemble 
 the known. When Mr. Bain occasionally speaks of this pro- 
 pensity as if it were instinctive, I understand him to mean, that 
 by an original law of our nature, the mere suggestion of an 
 idea, so long as the idea keeps possession of the mind, suffices 
 to give it a command over our active energies. It is to this 
 primitive mental state that the author's theory of Belief most 
 nearly applies. In a mind which is as yet untutored, either by 
 the teachings of others or by its own mistakes, an idea so 
 strongly excited as for the time to keep out all ideas by which 
 it would itself be excluded, possesses that power over the 
 voluntary activities which is Mr. Bain's criterion of Belief; 
 and any association that compels the person to have the idea 
 of a certain consequence as following his act, generates, or 
 becomes, a real expectation of that consequence. But these ex- 
 pectations often turning out to have been ill grounded, the unduly 
 prompt suggestion comes to be associated, by repetition, with 
 the shock of disappointed expectation ; and the idea of the 
 desired consequent is now raised together with the idea not of 
 its realization, but of its frustration : thus neutralizing the 
 effect of the first association on the belief and on the active 
 impulses. It is in this stage that the mind learns the habit of 
 looking out for, and weighing, evidence. It presently discovers 
 
438 Evidence. [chap xn. 
 
 that the expectations which are least often disappointed are 
 those which correspond to the greatest and most varied amount 
 of antecedent experience. It gradually conies to associate the 
 feeling of disappointed expectation with all those promptings 
 to expectj whichj being the result of accidental associations, 
 ■>have no, or but little, previous experience conformable to 
 them : and by degrees the expectation only arises when me- 
 mory represents a considerable amount of such previous expe- 
 rience; and is strong in proportion to the quantity of the 
 experience. At a still later period, as disappointment 
 nevertheless not unfrequently happens notwithstanding a 
 considerable amount of past experience on the side of the 
 expectation, the mind is put upon making distinctions in the 
 kind of past experiences, and finding out what qualities, be- 
 sides mere frequency, experience must have, in order not to be 
 followed by disappointment. In other words, it considers the 
 conditions of right inference from experience ; and by degrees 
 arrives at principles or rules, more or less accurate, for induc- 
 tive reasoning. This is substantially the doctrine of the author 
 ■of the Analysis. It must be conceded to him, that an associa- 
 tion, sufficiently strong to exclude all ideas that would exclude 
 itself, produces a kind of mechanical belief; and that the 
 processes by which this belief is corrected, or reduced to 
 rational bounds, all consist in the growth of a counter-asso- 
 ciation, tending to raise the idea of a disappointment of the 
 first expectation : and as the one or the other prevails in the 
 particular case, the belief, or expectation, exists or does not 
 exist, exactly as if the belief were the same thing with the 
 association. It must also be admitted that the process by 
 which the belief is overcome, takes effect by weakening the 
 association ; which can only be effected by raising up another 
 association that conflicts with it. There are two ways in 
 which this counter-association may be generated. One is, by 
 counter-evidence ; by contrary experience in the specific case, 
 which, by associating the circumstances of the case with a 
 contrary belief, destroys their association with the original belief. 
 But there is also another mode of weakening, or altogether 
 
CHAP. xn.J EVIDENCE. 439 
 
 destroying, the belief, without adducing contrary experience : 
 namely, by merely recognising the insufificiency of the existing 
 experience ; by reflecting on other instances in which the 
 same amount and kind of experience have existed, but were 
 not followed by the expected result. In the one mode as iu 
 the other, the process of dissolving a belief is identical with 
 that of dissolving an association ; and to this extent — and it is a 
 verylargeextent — the author's theory of Belief must be received 
 as true. 
 
 I cannot, however, go beyond this, and maintain with the 
 author that Belief is identical with a strong association ; on ac- 
 count of the reason already stated, viz. that in many cases — 
 indeed in almost all cases in which the evidence has been such 
 as required to be investigated and weighed — a final belief is 
 arrived at without any such clinging together of ideas as the 
 author supposes to constitute it ; and we remain able to re- 
 present to ourselves in imagination, often with perfect facility, 
 both the conflicting suppositions, of which we nevertheless 
 believe one and reject the other. — Ed. 
 
440 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY OF THE 
 
 A.PPENDIX. 
 
 (From '*An Uxaminafion of Sir William Hamilton's 
 Philosophy") 
 
 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY OF THE BELIEF 
 m AN EXTERNAL WORLD. 
 
 We have seen Sir. W. Hamilton at work on the question of 
 the reality of Matter, by the introspective method, and, as it 
 seems, with little result. Let us now approach the same sub- 
 ject by the psychological. I proceed, therefore, to state the 
 case of those who hold that the belief in an external world is 
 not intuitive, but an acquired product. 
 
 This theory postulates the following psychological truths, 
 all of which are proved by experience, and are not contested, 
 though their force is seldom adequately felt, by Sir W. 
 Hamilton and the other thinkers of the introspective school. 
 
 It postulates, first, that the human mind is capable of Ex- 
 pectation. In other words, that after having had actual 
 sensations, we are capable of forming the conception of Possible 
 sensations ; sensations which we are not feehng at the present 
 moment, but which we might feel, and should feel if certain 
 conditions were present, the nature of which conditions we 
 have, in many cases, learnt by experience. 
 
 It postulates, secondly, the laws of the Association of Ideas. 
 So far as we are here concerned, these laws are the following : 
 1st. Similar pbsenomena tend 16 be thought of together. 2nd. 
 Phsenomena which have either been experienced or conceived 
 
BELIEF IN AN" EXTERNAL WORLD. 441 
 
 in close contiguity to one another, tend to be thought of 
 together. The contiguity is of* two kinds; simultaneity, and 
 immediate succession. Facts which have been experienced or 
 thought of simultaneously, recall the thought of one another. 
 Of facts which have been experienced or thought of in im- 
 mediate succession, the antecedent, or the thought of it, recalls 
 the thought of the consequent, but not conversely. 3rd. As- 
 sociations produced by contiguity become more certain and 
 rapid by repetition. When two phsenomena have been very 
 often experienced in conjunction, and have not, in any single 
 instance, occurred separately either in experience or in thought, 
 there is produced between them what has been called Insepa- 
 rable, or less correctly. Indissoluble Association : by which is 
 not meant that the association must inevitably last to the end 
 of life — that no subsequent experience or process of thought 
 can possibly avail to dissolve it ; but only that as long as no 
 such experience or process of thought has taken place, the 
 association is irresistible ; it is impossible for us to think the 
 one thing disjoined from the other. 4th. When an association 
 has acquired this character of inseparability — when the bond 
 between the two ideas has been thus firmly riveted, not only 
 does the idea called up by association become, in our consci- 
 ousness^ inseparable from the idea which suggested it, but the 
 facts or phasnomena answering to those ideas come at last to 
 seem inseparable in existence : things which we are unable to 
 conceive apart, appear incapable of existing apart ; and the 
 belief we have in their coexistence, though really a product 
 of experience, seems intuitive. Innumerable examples might 
 be given of this law. One of the most familiar, as well as the 
 most striking, is that of our acquired perceptions of sight. 
 Even those who, with Mr. Bailey, consider the perception of 
 distance by the eye as not acquired, but intuitive, admit that 
 there are many perceptions of sight which, though instan- 
 taneous and unhesitating, are not intuitive. What we see is a 
 very minute fragment of what we think we see. We see arti- 
 ficially that one thing is hard, another soft. We see artificially 
 that one thing is hot, another cold. We see artificially that 
 
442 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY OF THE 
 
 what we see is a book, or a stone, each of these being not 
 merely an inference, but a heap of inferences, from the signs 
 which we see, to things not visible. We see, and cannot help 
 seeing, what we have learnt to infer, even when we know that 
 the inference is erroneous, and that the apparent perception is 
 deceptive. We cannot help seeing the moon larger when near 
 the horizon, though we know that she is of precisely her usual 
 size. We cannot help seeing a mountain as nearer to us and 
 of less height, when we see it through a more than ordinarily 
 transparent atmosphere. 
 
 Setting out from these premises, the Psychological Theory 
 maintains, that there are associations naturally and even 
 necessarily generated by the order of our sensations and of 
 our reminiscences of sensation, which, supposing no intuition 
 of an external world to have existed in consciousness, would 
 inevitably generate the belief, and would cause it to be regarded 
 as an intuition. 
 
 What is it we mean, or what is it which leads us to say, that 
 the objects we perceive are external to us, and not a part of 
 our own thoughts ? We mean, that there is concerned in our 
 perceptions something which exists when we are not thinking 
 of it ; which existed before we had ever thought of it, and 
 would exist if we were annihilated ; and further, that there 
 exist things which we never saw, touched, or otherwise per- 
 ceived, and things which never have been perceived by man. 
 This idea of something which is distinguished from our fleeting 
 impressions by what, in Kantian language, is called Perdura- 
 bility ; something which is fixed and the same, while our 
 impressions vary ; something which exists whether we are 
 aware of it or not, and which is always square (or of some other 
 given figure) whether it appears to us square or round — con- 
 stitutes altogether our idea of external substance. Whoever 
 can assign an origin to this complex conception, has accounted 
 or what we mean by the belief in matter. Now all this, 
 according to the Psychological Theory, is but the form im- 
 pressed by the known laws of association, upon the conception 
 ox notion, obtained by experience, of Contingent Sensations ; 
 
BELIEF m AN EXTERNAL WORLD. 443 
 
 by which are meant, sensations that are not in our present 
 consciousness, and individually never were in our consciousness 
 at all, but which in virtue of the laws to which we have learnt 
 by experience that our sensations are subject, we know that we 
 should have felt under given supposable circumstances, and 
 under these same circumstances, might still feel. 
 
 I see a piece of white paper on a table. I go into another 
 room. If the phsenomenon always followed me, or if, when it 
 did not follow me, I believed it to disappear ^ rerum naturd, 
 I should not believe it to be an external object. I should 
 consider it as a phantom— a mere affection of my senses: I 
 should not believe that there had been any Body there. But, 
 though I have ceased to see it, I am persuaded that the paper 
 is still there. I no longer have the sensations which it gave 
 me ; but I believe that when I again place myself in the cir- 
 cumstances in which I had those sensations, that is, when I go 
 again into the room, I shall again have them ; and further, 
 that there has been no intervening moment at which this would 
 not have been the case. Owing to this property of my mind, 
 my conception of the world at any given instant consists, in 
 only a small proportion, of present sensations. Of these I may 
 at the time have none at all, and they are in any case a most 
 insignificant portion of the whole which I apprehend. The 
 conception I form of the world existing at any moment, com- 
 prises, along with the sensations I am feeling, a countless 
 variety of possibilities of sensation : namely, the whole of those 
 which past observation tells me that I could, under any sup- 
 posable circumstances, experience at this moment, together 
 with an indefinite and illimitable multitude of others which 
 though I do not know that I could, yet it is possible that I 
 might, experience in circumstances not known to me. These 
 various possibilities are the important thing to me in the 
 world. My present sensations are generally of little impor- 
 tance, and are moreover fugitive : the possibilities, on the 
 contrary, are permanent, which is the character that mainly 
 distinguishes our idea of Substance or Matter from our notion 
 of sensation. These possibilities, which are conditional cer- 
 
444 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY OF THE 
 
 tainties, need a special name to distinguish them from mere 
 vague possibilities, which experience gives no warrant for 
 reckoning upon. Now, as soon as a distinguishing name is 
 given, though it be only to the same thing regarded in a dif- 
 ferent aspect, one of the most familiar experiences of our 
 mental nature teaches us, that the different name comes to be 
 considered as the name of a different thing. 
 
 There is another important peculiarity of these certified or 
 guaranteed possibilities of sensation ; namely, that they have 
 reference, not to single sensations, but to sensations joined 
 together in groups. When we think of anything as a material 
 substance, or body, we either have had, or we think that on 
 some given supposition we should have, not some one sensa- 
 tion, but a great and even an indefinite number and variety of 
 sensations, generally belonging to different senses, but so linked 
 together, that the presence of one announces the possible 
 presence at the very same instant of any or all of the rest. In 
 our mind, therefore, not only is this particular Potsibility of 
 sensation invested with the quality of permanence when we 
 are not actually feeling any of the sensations at all ; but when 
 we are feeling some of them, the remaining sensations of the 
 group are conceived by us in the form of Present Possibilities, 
 which might be realized at the very moment. And as this 
 happens in turn to all of them, the group as a whole presents 
 itself to the mind as permanent, in contrast not solely with the 
 temporariness of my bodily presence, but also with the tem- 
 porary character of each of the sensations composing the 
 group ; in other words, as a kind of permanent substratum, 
 under a set of passing experiences or manifestations : which is 
 another leading character of our idea of substance or matter, 
 as distinguished from sensation. 
 
 Let us now take into consideration another of the general 
 characters of our experience, namely, that in addition to fixed 
 groups, we also recognise a fixed Order in our sensations; an 
 Order of succession, which, when ascertained by observation, 
 gives rise to the ideas of Cause and Effect, according to what 
 I hold to be the true theory of that relation, and is on any 
 
BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WOULD. 445 
 
 theory the source of all our knowledge what causes produce 
 what effects. Now, of what nature is this fixed order among 
 our sensations? It is a coustancy of antecedence and sequence. 
 But the constant antecedence and sequence do not generally 
 exist between one actual sensation and another. Very few 
 such sequences are presented to us by experience. In almost 
 all the constant sequences which occur in Nature, the antece- 
 dence and consequence do not obtain between sensations, but 
 between the groups we have been speaking about, of which a 
 very small portion is actual sensation, the greater part being 
 permanent possibilities of sensation, evidenced to us by a 
 small and variable number of sensations actually present. 
 Hence, our ideas of causation, power, activity, do not become 
 connected in thought with our sensations as aotioal at all, save 
 in the few physiological cases where these figure by themselves 
 as the antecedents in some uniform sequence. Those ideas 
 become connected, not with sensations, but with groups of 
 possibilities of sensation. The sensations conceived do not, 
 to our habitual thoughts, present themselves as sensations 
 actually experienced, inasmuch as not only any one or any 
 number of them may be supposed absent, but none of them 
 need be present. We find that the modifications which are 
 taking place more or less regularly in our possibilities of sen- 
 sation, are mostly quite independent of our consciousness, and 
 of our presence or absence. Whether we are asleep or awake 
 the fire goes out, and puts an end to one particular possibility 
 of warmth and light. Whether we are present or absent the 
 corn ripens, and brings a new possibility of food. Hence we 
 speedily learn to think of Nature as made up solely of these 
 groups of possibilities, and the active force in Nature as mani- 
 fested in the modification of some of these by others. The 
 sensations, though the original foundation of the whole, come 
 to be looked upon as a sort of accident depending on us, and 
 the possibilities as much more real than the actual sensations, 
 nay, as the very realities of which these are only the represen- 
 tations, appearances, or effects. When this state of mind has 
 been arrived at, then, and from that time forward, we are never 
 
446 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY OF THE 
 
 conscious of a present sensation without instantaneou&ly re- 
 ferring it to some one of the groups of possibilities into which 
 a sensation of that particular description enters; and if we do 
 not yet know to what group to refer it, we at least feel an irre- 
 sistible conviction that it must belong to some group or other ; 
 i.e. that its presence proves the existence, here and now, of a 
 great number and variety of possibilities of sensation, without 
 which it would not have been. The whole set of sensations 
 as possible, form a permanent background to any one or 
 more of them that are, at a given moment, actual*: and 
 the possibilities are conceived as standing to the actual sensa- 
 tions in the relation of a cause to its effects, or of canvas to 
 the figures painted on it, or of a root to the trunk, leaves, and 
 flowers, or of a substratum to that which is spread over it, or, 
 in transcendental language, of Matter to Form. 
 
 When this point has been reached, the Permanent Possibili- 
 ties in question have assumed such unlikeness of aspect, and 
 such difference of apparent relation to us, from any sensations, 
 that it would be contrary to all we know of the constitution of 
 human nature that they should not be conceived as, and 
 believed to be, at least as different from sensations as sensa- 
 tions are from one another. Their groundwork in sensation 
 is forgotten, and they are supposed to be something intrinsically 
 distinct from it. We can withdraw ourselves from any of our 
 (external) sensations, or we can be withdrawn from them by 
 some other agency. But though the sensations cease, the 
 possibilities remain in existence; they are indepentient of our 
 will, our presence, and everything which belongs to us. We 
 find, too, that they belong as much to other human or sentient 
 beings as to ourselves. We find other people grounding their 
 expectations and conduct upon the same permanent possibili- 
 ties on which we ground ours. But we do not find them ex- 
 periencing the same actual sensations. Other people do not 
 have our sensations exactly when and as we have them : but 
 they have our possibilities of sensation; whatever indicates a 
 present possibility of sensations to ourselves, indicates a pre- 
 sent possibility of similar sensations to them, except so far as 
 
BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WORLD. 447 
 
 their organs of sensation may vary from the type of ours. 
 This puts the final seal to our conception of the groups of 
 possibilities as the fundamental reality in Nature. The per- 
 manent possibilities are common to us and to our fellow- 
 creatures ; the actual sensations are not. That which other 
 people become aware of when, and on the same grounds, as I 
 do, seems more real to me than that which they do not know 
 of unless I tell them. The world of Possible Sensations suc- 
 ceeding one another according to laws, is as much in other 
 beings as it is in me ; it has therefore an existence outside me ; 
 it is an External World. 
 
 If this explanation of the origin and growth of the idea of 
 Matter, or External Nature, contains nothing at variance with 
 natural laws, it is at least an admissible supposition, that the 
 element of Non-ego which Sir W. Hamilton regards as an 
 original datum of consciousness, and which we certainly do 
 find in our present consciousness, may not be one of its primi- 
 tive elements — may not have existed at all in its first manifes- 
 tations. But if this supposition be admissible, it ought, on 
 Sir W. Hamilton's principles, to be received as true. The first 
 of the laws laid down by him for the interpretation of Con- 
 sciousness, the law (as he terms it) of Parcimony, forbids to 
 suppose an original principle of our nature in order to account 
 for phaenomena which admit of possible explanation from 
 known causes. If the supposed ingredient of consciousness 
 be one which might grow up (though we cannot prove that it 
 did grow up) through later experience ; and if, when it had so 
 grown up, it would, by known laws of our nature, appear as 
 completely intuitive as our sensations themselves ; we are 
 bound, according to Sir W. Hamilton's and all sound philoso- 
 phy, to assign to it that origin. Where there is a known cause 
 adequate to account for a phsenomenon, there is no justifica- 
 tion for ascribing it to an unknown one. And what evidence 
 does Consciousness furnish of the intuitiveness of an impres- 
 sion, except instantaneousness, apparent simpHcity, and un- 
 conciousness on our part of how the impression came into our 
 minds? These features can only prove the impression to be 
 
448 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY OF THE 
 
 intuitive, on the hypothesis that there are no means of account- 
 ing for them otherwise. If they not only might, but naturally 
 would, exist, even on the supposition that it is not intuitive, 
 we must accept the conclusion to which we are led by the 
 Psychological Method, and which the Introspective Method 
 furnishes absolutely nothing to contradict. 
 
 Matter, then, may be defined, a Permanent Possibility of 
 Sensation. If I am asked, whether I believe in matter, I ask 
 whether the questioner accepts this definition of it. If he 
 does, I believe in matter : and so do all Berkeleians. In any 
 other sense than this, I do not. But I affirm with confidence, 
 that this conception of Matter includes the whole meaning 
 attached to it by the common world, apart from philosophical, 
 and sometimes from theological, theories. The reliance of 
 mankind on the real existence of visible and tangible objects, 
 means reliance on the reality and permanence of Possibilities 
 of visual and tactual sensations, when no such sensations are 
 actually experienced. We are warranted in believing that this 
 is the meaning of Matter in the minds of many of its most 
 esteemed metaphysical champions, though they themselves 
 would not adniit as much : for example, of Reid, Stewart, and 
 Brown. For these three philosophers alleged that all man- 
 kind, including Berkeley and Hume, really believed in Matter, 
 inasmuch as unless they did, they would not have turned aside 
 to save themselves from running against a post. Now all 
 which this manoeuvre really proved is, that they believed in 
 Permanent Possibilities of Sensation. We have therefore the 
 unintentional sanction of these three eminent defenders of the 
 existence of matter, for affirming, that to believe in Per- 
 manent Possibilities of Sensation is believing in Matter, It 
 is hardly necessary, after such authorities, to mention Dr. 
 Johnson, or any one else who resorts to the argumentum 
 baculintim of knocking a stick against the ground. Sir W. 
 Hamilton, a far subtler thinker than any of these, never 
 reasons in this manner. He never supposes that a disbeliever 
 in what he means by Matter, ought in consistency to act in 
 any different mode from those who believe in it. He knew 
 
BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WORLD. 449 
 
 that the belief on which all the practical consequences depend, 
 is the belief in Permanent Possibilities of Sensation, and that 
 if nobody believed in a material universe in any other sense, 
 life would go on exactly as it now does. He, however, did 
 believe in more than this, but, I think, only because it had 
 never occurred to him that mere Possibilities of Sensation 
 could, to our artificialized consciousness, present the character 
 of objectivity which, as we have now shown, they not only can, 
 but unless the known laws of the human mind were sus- 
 pended, must necessarily, present. 
 
 Perhaps it may be objected, that the very possibility of 
 framing such a notion of Matter as Sir W. Hamilton's — the 
 capacity in the human mind of imagining an external world 
 which is anything more than what the Psychological Theory 
 makes it — amounts to a disproof of the theory. If (it may be 
 said) we had no revelation in consciousness, of a world which 
 is not in some way or other identified with sensation, we should 
 be unable to have the notion of such a world. If the only 
 ideas we had of external objects were ideas of our sensations, 
 supplemented by an acquired notion of permanent possibilities 
 of sensation, we must (it is thought) be incapable of conceiving, 
 and therefore still more incapable of fancying that we perceive, 
 things which are not sensations at all. It being evident how- 
 ever that some philosophers believe this, and it being main- 
 tainable that the mass of mankind do so, the existence of a 
 perdurable basis of sensations, distinct from sensations them- 
 selves, is proved, it might be said, by the possibility of 
 believing it. 
 
 Let me first restate what I apprehend the belief to be. We 
 believe that we perceive a something closely related to all our 
 sensations, but different from those which we are feeling at 
 any particular minute ; and distinguished from sensations 
 altogether, by being permanent and always the same, while 
 these are fugitive, variable, and alternately displace one another. 
 But these attributes of the object of perception are properties 
 belonging to all the possibilities of sensation which experience 
 guarantees. The belief in such permanent possibilities seems 
 
 VOL. t G G 
 
450 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY OF THE 
 
 to me to include all that is essential or characteristic in the 
 belief in substance. I believe that Calcutta exists, though I 
 do not perceive it, and that it would still exist if every per- 
 cipient inhabitant were suddenly to leave the place, or be struck 
 dead. But when I analyse the belief, all I find in it is, 
 that were these events to take place, the Permanent Possibility 
 of Sensation which I call Calcutta would still remain ; that if 
 I were suddenly transported to the banks of the Hoogly, I 
 should still have the sensations which, if now present, would 
 lead me to affirm that Calcutta exists here and now. We may 
 infer, therefore, that both philosophers and the world at large, 
 when they think of matter, conceive it really as a Permanent 
 Possibility of Sensation. But the majority of philosophers 
 fancy that it is something more ; and the world at large, 
 though they have really, as I conceive, nothing in their minds 
 but a Permanent Possibility of Sensation, would, if asked the 
 question, undoubtedly agree with the philosophers : and though 
 this is sufficiently explained by the tendency of the human 
 mind to infer difference of things from difference of names, I 
 acknowledge the obligation of showing how it can be possible 
 to believe in an existence transcending all possibilities of sen- 
 sation, unless on the hypothesis that such an existence actually 
 is, and that we actually perceive it. 
 
 The explanation, however, is not difficult. It is an admitted 
 fact, that we are capable of all conceptions which can be formed 
 by generalizing from the observed laws of our sensations. 
 Whatever relation we find to exist between any one of our 
 sensations and something different from itj that same relation 
 we have no difficulty in conceiving to exist between the sum 
 of all our sensations and something different from the'm. The 
 differences which our consciousness recognises between one 
 sensation and another, give us the general notion of difference, 
 and inseparably associate with every sensation we have, the 
 feeling of its being different from other things : and when once 
 this association has been formed, we can no longer conceive 
 anything, without being able, and even being compelled, to 
 form also the conception of something different from it. 
 
BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WORLD. 451 
 
 This familiarity with the idea of something different from each 
 thing we know, makes it natural and easy to form the notion 
 of something different from all things that we know, collectively 
 as well as individually. It is true we can form no conception 
 of what such a thing can be ; our notion of it is merely nega- 
 tive ; but the idea of a substance, apart from its relation to 
 the impressions which we conceive it as making on our senses, 
 is a merely negative one. There is thus' no psychological 
 obstacle to our forming the notion of a something which is 
 neither a sensation nor a possibility of sensation, even if our 
 consciousness does not testify to it ; and nothing is more 
 likely than that the Permanent Possibilities of sensation, to 
 which our consciousness does testify, should be confounded in 
 our minds with this imaginary conception. All experience 
 attests the strength of the tendency to mistake mental abstrac- 
 tions, even negative ones, for substantive realities ; and the 
 Permanent Possibilities of sensation which experience gua- 
 rantees, are so extremely unlike in many of their properties to 
 actual sensations, that since we are capable of imagining some- 
 thing which transcends sensations, there is a great natural 
 probability that we should suppose these to be it. 
 
 But this natural probability is converted into certainty, 
 when we take into consideration that universal law of our ex- 
 perience which is termed the law of Causation, and which 
 makes us mentally connect with the beginning of everything, 
 some antecedent condition, or Cause. The case of Causation 
 is one of the most marked of all the cases in which we extend 
 to the sum total of our consciousness, a notion derived from 
 its parts. It is a striking example of our power to conceive, 
 and our tendency to believe, that a relation which subsists 
 between every individual item of our experience and some 
 other item, subsists also between our experience as a whole, 
 and something not within the sphere of experience. By this 
 extension to the sum of all our experiences, of the internal 
 relations obtaining between its several parts, we are led to 
 consider sensation itself — the aggregate whole of our sensa- 
 tions — as deriving its origin from antecedent existences tran- 
 
452 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL THEORY OF THE 
 
 sceuding sensation. That we should do this, is a consequence 
 of the particular character of the uniform sequences, which 
 experience discloses to us among our sensations. As already- 
 remarked, the constant antecedent of a sensation is seldom 
 another sensation, or set of sensations, actually felt. It is 
 much oftener the existence of a group of possibilities, not 
 necessarily including any actual sensations, except such as 
 are required to show that the possibilities are really present. 
 Nor are actual sensations indispensable even for this purpose ; 
 for the presence of the object (which is nothing more than 
 the immediate presence of the possibilities) may be made 
 known to us by the very sensation which we refer to as its 
 effect. Thus, the real antecedent of an effect — the only ante- 
 cedent which, being invariable and unconditional, we consider 
 to be the cause — may be, not any sensation really felt, but 
 solely the presence, al that or the immediately preceding mo- 
 ment, of a group of possibilities of sensation. Hence it is 
 not with sensations as actually experienced, but with their 
 Permanent Possibilities, that the idea of Cause comes to be 
 identified ; and we, by one and the same process, acquire the 
 habit of regarding Sensation in general, like all our indi- 
 vidual sensations, as an Effect, and also that of conceiving as 
 the causes of most of our individual sensations, not other 
 sensations, but general possibilities of sensation. If all these 
 considerations put together do not completely explain and ac- 
 count for our conceiving these Possibilities as a class of inde- 
 pendent and substantive entities,! know not what psychological 
 analysis can be conclusive. 
 
 It may perhaps be said, that the preceding theory gives, 
 indeed, some account of the idea of Permanent Existence 
 which forms part of our conception of matter, but gives no 
 explanation of our believing these permanent objects to be 
 external, or out of ourselves. I apprehend, on the contrary, 
 that the very idea of anything out of ourselves is derived solely 
 from the knowledge experience gives us of the Permanent 
 Possibilities. Our sensations we carry with us wherever we 
 go, and they never exist where we are not ; but when we change 
 
BELIEF IN AN EXTERNAL WORLD. 453 
 
 our place we do not carry away with us the Permanent Possi- 
 bilities of Sensation : they remain until we return, or arise 
 and cease under conditions with which our presence has in 
 general nothing to do. And more than all— they are, and 
 will be after we have ceased to feel, Permanent Possibilities of 
 sensation to other beings than ourselves. Thus our actual 
 sensations, and the Permanent Possibilities of sensation, stand 
 out in obtrusive contrast to one another : and when the idea 
 of Cause has been acquired, and extended by generalization 
 from the parts of our experience to its aggregate whole, 
 nothing can be more natural than that the Permanent 
 Possibilities should be classed by us as existences generically 
 distinct from our sensations, but of which our sensations are 
 the effect. 
 
 The same theory which accounts for our ascribing to an 
 aggregate of possibilities of sensation, a permanent existence 
 which our sensations themselves do not possess, and conse- 
 quently a greater reality than belongs to our sensations, also 
 explains our attributing greater objectivity to the Primary 
 Qualities of bodies than to the Secondary. For the sensations 
 which correspond to what are called the Primary Qualities 
 (as soon at least as we come to apprehend them by two 
 senses, the eye as well as the touch) are always present when 
 any part of the group is so. But colours, tastes, smells, and 
 the hke, being, in comparison, fugacious, are not, in the same 
 degree, conceived as being always there, even when nobody is 
 present to perceive them. The sensations answering to the 
 Secondary Qualities are only occasional, those to the Primary, 
 constant. The Secondary, moreover, vary with different per- 
 sons, and with the temporary sensibility of our organs ; the 
 Primary, when perceived at all, are, as far as we know, the 
 same to all persons and at all times. 
 
 ^D OE VOL. I. 
 
LONDON : 
 
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