CHAPTER II.. Truths and Conceptions Furnished by This Faculty

TRUTHS AND CONCEPTIONS FURNISHED BY THIS FACULTY

§ I.--PRIMARY TRUTHS.

Primary Truths and Primary Ideas as distinguished.--The faculty in question may be regarded as the source of primary beliefs, truths, cognitions, intuitively perceived, and also of primary and original conceptions, notions, ideas, also intuitively conceived.

The difference between a conception or idea, and a belief or truth, is obvious. The notion of existence, and the knowledge or belief that I, myself, exist, are clearly distinguishable. The idea of cause, and the conviction that every event has a cause, are distinct mental states. The one is a primitive and intuitive conception, the other a primitive and intuitive truth. Every primary truth involves a primitive and original conception.

Existence of first Truths.--All science and all reasoning depend ultimately on certain first truths or principles, not learned by experience, but prior to it, the evidence and certainty of which lie back of all reasoning and all experience. Take away these elementary truths, and neither science nor reasoning are longer possible, for want of a beginning and foundation. Every proposition which carries evidence with it, either contains that evidence in itself, or derives it from some other proposition on which it depends. And the same is true of this other proposition, and so on forever, until we come, at last, to some proposition which depends on no other, but is self-evident, a first truth or principle. Whence come these first principles? Not of course from experience, for they are involved in and essential to all experience. They are native or à priori convictions of the mind, instinctive and intuitive judgments.

Existence of first Truths admitted.--The existence of first truths or principles, as the basis of all acquired knowledge, has been very generally admitted by philosophers. They have designated these elementary principles, however, by widely different appellations. By some, they have been termed instinctive beliefs, cognitions, judgments, etc., an appellation mentioned by Hamilton as employed by a very great number of writers from Cicero downward, including, among the rest, Scaliger, Bacon, Descartes, Pascal, Leibnitz, Hume, Reid, Stewart, Jacobi. Others, again, have termed them à priori or transcendental principles, cognitions, judgments, etc., as being prior to experience, and transcending the knowledge derived from sense. So Kant and his school termed them. By the Scotch writers they have been termed, also, principles of common sense, in place of which expression Stewart prefers the title, fundamental laws of human belief.

Criteria of primary Truths.--It becomes an important inquiry, in what manner we may recognize and distinguish first truths from all others. Besides common consent, or universality of belief on the part of those who have arrived at years of discretion, Buffier relies, also, upon the following, as criteria of first principles; that they are such truths as can neither be defended nor attacked by any propositions, either more manifest or more certain than themselves; and that their practical influence extends even to those who would deny them. Reid gives, among other criteria, the following: consent of ages and nations; the absurdity of the opposite; early appearance in the mind, prior to education and reasoning; practical necessity to the conduct and concerns of life. Hamilton gives the following as tests or criteria of first truths: 1. Incomprehensibilty.--We comprehend that the thing is, but not how or why it is. 2. Simplicity.--If the cognition or belief can be resolved into several cognitions or beliefs, it is complex, and so, no longer original. 3. Necessity, and consequent universality.--If necessary, it is universal, and if absolutely universal, then it must be necessary. 4. Comparative evidence and certainty.

Summary of Criteria.--The following may be regarded as a summary of the more important criteria by which to distinguish primary truths from all others.

a. As first truths, or primary data of intelligence, they are, of course, not derived from observation or experience, but are prior and necessary to such experience.

b. They are simple truths, not resolvable into some prior and comprehending truth from which they may be deduced.

c. As simple truths, they do not admit of proof, there being nothing more certain which can be brought in evidence of them.

d. While they do not admit of proof, the denial of them involves us in absurdity.

e. Accordingly, as simple, and as self-evident, they are universally admitted.

Enumeration of some of the Truths usually regarded as primary.--Different writers have included some more, some fewer, of these first principles in their list; while no one has professed, so far as I am aware, to give a complete enumeration of them. Such an enumeration, if it were possible, would be of great service in philosophy. The following have been generally included among primary truths by those who have attempted any specification, viz.; our personal existence, our personal identity, the existence of efficient causes, the existence of the material world, the uniformity of nature; to which would be added, by others, the reliability of memory, and of our natural faculties generally, and personal freedom or power over our own actions and volitions.

Correctness of this Enumeration.--That the truths now specified are in some sense primary, that they are generally admitted and acted upon, among men, without process of reasoning, and that, when stated, they command the universal and instant assent of even the untaught and unreflecting mind, there can be little doubt. Whether, in all cases, however, they come strictly under the rules and criteria now given; whether, for example, our own existence and identity are primary data of consciousness; or whether, on the contrary, they are not inferred from the existence of those thoughts and feelings of which we are directly conscious, as, for example, in the famous argument of Descartes, Cogito, ergo sum, may admit of question.

§ II.--INTUITIVE CONCEPTIONS.

Of the results or operations of the faculty under consideration, we have considered, as yet, only that class which may be designated as primary truths, in distinction from primitive or intuitive conceptions. To this latter class let us now direct our attention.

Proposed consideration of some of the more important.--Without undertaking to give a complete list of our original or intuitive conceptions, there are certain of the more important, which seem to require specific consideration. Such are the ideas of space, time, identity, cause, the beautiful, the right--ideas difficult to define and explain, but, on that account, requiring the more careful investigation. Let us, then, take up these conceptions one by one, and inquire more particularly into their nature.

I. Space.

Subjective View.--What is space? Is it a mere idea, a mere conception of the mind, or has it reality? This is a question which has much perplexed philosophers. Kant and his school regard both time and space as merely subjective, mere conceptions or forms which the mind imposes upon outward things, having no reality, save as conceptions, or laws of thought.

Opposite View.--On the other hand, if we make space a reality, and not a mere conception, what is it, and where is it? Not matter, and yet real, a something which exists, distinct from matter, and yet not mind. Pressed with these difficulties, some distinguished and acute writers have resolved time and space into qualities of the one infinite and absolute Being, the divine mind. Such was the view of Clarke and Newton, a view favored also by a recent French writer of some note--C. H. Bernard, Professor of Philosophy in the Lycée Bonaparte.

A middle Ground.--These must be regarded as, on either hand, extreme views. But is there a middle ground possible or conceivable? Let us see. What, then, is the simple idea of space? What mean we by that word?

Idea of Space.--When we contemplate any material object, any existence of which the senses can take cognizance, we are cognizant of it as extended, i. e., occupying space, nor can we possibly conceive of it as otherwise. The idea of space, then, is involved in the very idea of extended substance, or material existence, given along with it, impossible to be separated from it. We may regard it, therefore, as the condition or postulate of being, considered as material existence, possessing extension, etc. The idea of it is essential to the idea of matter, the reality of it to the reality of matter; for if there were no space, there could be no extension in space, and, without extension, no matter.

Not a mere Conception.--Is space, then, a mere conception of the mind, merely subjective? Unquestionably not. It is not, indeed, a substance or entity, it has no being. It is not matter, for it is, itself, the condition of matter; it is not spirit, for then it were intelligent. It is not an existence, then, strictly speaking, not a thing created, nor is it in the power of deity either to create or to annihilate it, for creation and annihilation relate only to existence. And yet space is a reality, and not a mere conception of the mind. For, if so, then were there no longer any mind to conceive it, there would be no longer any space; if no mind to think, then no thought. Were the whole race of intelligent beings, then, to be blotted out of existence, and all things else to remain as now, space would be gone, while, yet, matter would exist, extension--worlds moving on as before. Extension in what, motion in what? Not in space, for that is no longer extant; defunct, rather, with the last mind whose expiring torch went out in the gloom of night. Unless we make matter, then, to be also a mere conception of the mind, space is not so. If the one is real, the other is. If one is a mere conception, so is the other; and to this result the school of Kant actually come. Matter, itself, is a subjective phenomenon, a mode of mind, or, rather, if it be any thing more, we have no means of knowing it to be so.

If, on the contrary, as we hold, matter exists, and is an object of immediate perception by the senses, then there is such a thing as space also, the condition of its existence, a reality, though not an entity, the idea of it given along with that of matter, the reality of it implied in the reality of matter. Matter presupposes it, depends on it as its sine quâ non. It depends on nothing. Were there no matter, there would be none the less space, but only space unoccupied. In that case, the idea of space might never occur to any mind, but the reality would exist just as now. Were all matter and all mind to be blotted out of being, space would still be what it is now.

The Idea, how awakened--How come we by our Idea of Space?--Sense gives us our first knowledge of matter, as extended, etc., and so furnishes the occasion on which the idea of space is first awakened in the mind. In this sense, and no other, does it originate in sensation or experience. It is a simple idea, logically prior to experience, because the very notion of matter presupposes space; yet, chronologically, as regards the matter of development in the mind, subsequent to experience and cognizance of matter.

II. TIME.

Idea and Definition.--What we have said of space will enable us better to understand what is the nature of that analogous and kindred conception of the mind, in itself so simple, yet so difficult of definition and explanation--Time. The remarks already made, respecting space, will almost equally apply to this subject also.

Space, we defined as the condition of being, regarded as extended, material. Time is the condition of being, regarded as in action, movement, change.

Sense informs us not only of magnitudes, extensions, material objects, and existences, as around us in nature, but of movements and changes continually taking place among these various existences; as extension is essential to those material forms, so succession is essential to these movements and changes; they cannot take place, nor be conceived to take place, without it; and as space is involved in, and given along with, the very idea of extension, so time is involved in, and given along with, the very idea of succession. Time, then, is the condition of action, movement, change, event, as space is of extended and material existence. It is that which is required in order that something should take place or occur, just as space is that which is required in order that something should exist as material and having form. As space gives us the question where, time gives us the question when. It is the place of events, as space is of forms.

Brown's View.--Dr. Brown defines time to be the mere relation of one event to another, as prior and subsequent. It follows, from this view, that if there were no events, then no time, since the latter is a mere relation subsisting among the former. Is this so? No doubt we derive our idea of time from the succession of events; but is time merely an idea, merely a conception, merely a relation, or has it reality out of and aside from our mind's conceiving it, and independent of the series of events that take place in it?

Not a mere Conception.--Like space, it is a law of thought, a conception, and like space it is not a mere law of thought, not a mere conception of the mind, not altogether subjective. Nor is it a mere relation of one event to another in succession. It is, on the contrary, necessary to, and prior to, all succession and all events. It does not depend on the occurrence of events, but the occurrence of events depends on it. As space would still exist were matter annihilated, so time would continue were events to cease. But were time blotted out there could be no succession, no occurrence or event. Time is essential, not to the mere thought or conception of events, but to the possibility of the thing itself. It is not, then, a mere idea, or conception of the mind, nor a mere relation. It has, in a sense, objectivity and reality, since it is the ground and condition of all continuous active existence, as space is of all extended formal existence, the sine quâ non, without which not merely our idea and conception of such existence would vanish, but the thing itself. There could be no such thing as active continuous existence, either of mind or matter, since mind and spirit, as continuous and persistent in any of its moods and phases, much more as passing from one to another of those moods, implies succession. Time is to mind what space is to matter. Matter protends in space, mind in time. Time is even less purely subjective than space, for should we say that both matter and space are mere subjective phenomena, mere conceptions, yet even to those very conceptions, to those subjective phenomena, as states of mind, time is essential.

Whence our Idea of Time.--It is with the idea of time as with that of space. Logically, time is the condition, à priori, of all experience, because of all continuous existence and all consciousness; but chronologically it is à posteriori, i. e., it is, to us, a matter of sensible experience. Sense is the occasion on which the idea of time is first awakened in our minds. We first exist, continue to exist, are conscious of that existence, conscious of succession, thoughts, feelings, sensations, and so we get the idea of time.

Time is necessary to succession; yet had there been no succession known to us, we should have had no idea of time. We are to distinguish, of course, between our idea of time and the thing itself. Locke is incorrect in making the idea of succession prior to that of duration, in itself considered, and not merely as regards our knowledge. In this respect, Cousin has ably and justly criticised the philosophy of Locke.

Time a relative Idea.--Looking at time merely as an idea or conception of our own minds, it is simply the perception of relation; the relation of passing events to each other, the relation of our various modes and states of being, our thoughts, feelings, etc., to each other, as successive, or to external objects and events, as also successive; the whereabouts, in a word, of one's self, one's present consciousness, in relation to what passes, or has passed, within or without, the relation of the present me to the former me, as regards both the succession of internal or external events. Hence the mind has only to withdraw itself completely from the consciousness of its former states and of events passing without, and it loses altogether its idea of time.

Thus in Sleep.--This we find to be the case in sleep. The thinking goes on; the idea of present self is kept up, but not of self in relation to the objects that are really about us, or to the actual part of its own existence. Whatever relation seems to exist, is imaginary and untrue. We no longer know where we are, nor exactly who we are. The avenues of communication with the external world are shut up, the eye, the ear, etc., are inactive, the spirit withdraws from the outward into itself, as far as this is possible, while the connection of body and mind still continues; its relations to former things and to present things are forgotten and unknown. What is the consequence? We lose all idea of time; the moment of falling asleep and of our beginning to awake, if the sleep have been sound, is apparently one and the same moment. The first effect of returning consciousness is to resume the broken thread of time, to find your place again in the series of things, whether it is morning or night, what morning or what night it is; to find yourself, in fact. You had forgotten yourself, to use a familiar phrase exactly descriptive of the present case. What of yourself had you forgotten? Simply your relation to the order and succession of things without, and of thoughts and feelings within--your place in the series. In sleep, your existence, so far as it is an object of consciousness at all, is simply that of each passing moment by itself.

Thus in absorbing Pursuits.--You have only, in your waking moments, to lose sight as completely of that relation and succession of the present self to the past self, of the me to the not me, and you lose as completely all idea of time. Does this ever occur? Partially, whenever the attention is absorbed in any intensely interesting pursuit or study. Time passes insensibly then. We are abstracted from the series, our attention is withdrawn from surrounding objects and events, and even from our own thoughts, as such. We lose sight of the me, and, of course, of the relation of the me, to passing events, and therefore lose the sense of time. When the spell is at last broken we must go to seek ourselves again, as we would seek a child, that, in its play, had wandered from our side.

Also in Disease.--Something of the same sort occurs in severe and protracted sickness. The mind loses its reckoning, so to speak, as a ship in a storm loses latitude and longitude, and wanders from its course, unable longer to take its daily observations.

Idea of Time in Children.--You have doubtless noticed that children have little idea of time. It is much the same to them, one day with another, one week with another; it is morning, or afternoon, or night indifferently. The distinction and recognition of time, and of one time as different from another, is slowly acquired, and with difficulty. They have not that self-consciousness, that apprehension of the present and of the past, as related to each other in the series of events, which is involved in the idea of time. They are more like one in sleep, like one dreaming, like one in reverie, wholly absorbed with the present moment, the present consciousness.

Time longer to a Child than an Adult.--What has been said explains, also, the well-known fact, that time seems longer to a child than to an adult person. It is, as we have seen, the relation of the present self, as affected by changes internal and external, to the past self as thus affected, that gives us the idea and the standard of time. Of course, the shorter the line that represents the past, the longer, in comparison, that present duration which is measured by it. Now the child has fewer past thoughts and events with which to compare the present ones; hence, they hold a greater comparative magnitude to him than to us, who have a greater range of past existence and past consciousness with which to connect the passing moments. Hence, the longer we live, the more quickly pass our years, the shorter appears any given period of duration.

Applied to eternal Duration.--You have but to apply this thought to Him whose going forth is from of old, who inhabiteth eternity, and you have a new meaning in the beautiful thought of the Hebrew poet, that with Him a thousand years are but as a day. To that eternal mind, the remoteness of the period when the first star lighted up the vault of night at his bidding, may be recent as an event of yesterday.

III. IDENTITY.

Difficult of Explanation.--Perhaps no subject, in the whole range of intellectual philosophy, has been the occasion of more perplexity and embarrassment than this. It is, in itself, a difficult subject to comprehend and explain. We know what we mean by identity, but to tell what that meaning is, to state the thing lucidly, and explain it philosophically, is another matter. It becomes necessary to examine the subject, therefore, with some care, in order to avoid confusion of ideas, and positively erroneous opinions. The subject is one of some importance in its theological, as well as its strictly philosophical bearings.

Not Similarity.--Identity is not similarity, not mere resemblance--similar things are not the same thing. We may suppose two globes or spheres precisely alike in every respect--of the same size, color, form, of the same material, of the same chemical composition and substance, presenting to the eye and the touch, and every other sense, the very same appearance and qualities, so that, if viewed successively, we should not recognize the difference; yet they are not identical; they are, by the very supposition, two distinct globes, two entities, two substances, and to say that they are identical, is to say that two things are only one. Similarity is not identity, so far from it, as Archbishop Whately has well remarked, it is not even implied of necessity in identity. A person may so far change as to be quite unlike his former self in appearance, size, etc., and yet be the same person. Not only are the two ideas quite distinct, but the one may be, and in fact is, in most cases, the virtual negation of the other. Resemblance, in most cases, implies difference of objects, the opposite of identity. To say that A and B resemble each other, is to say that, as known to us, they are not one and the same, not identical. It is only when one and the same object falls under cognizance at diverse times, so that we compare the object, as now known, with the same object as previously known, that resemblance and identity can possibly be predicated of the same thing.

Identity is only another term for sameness (idem); any one who knows what that means, knows what identity means, and that it does not mean mere similarity or resemblance.

Not sameness of chemical Composition.--Nor does sameness of chemical composition constitute identity. This is merely similarity. Two bodies may be composed of the same chemical elements, in the same proportion, and possessing the same general form and structure, yet they are not the same body. A given piece of wood or iron may be divided into a number of parts, each closely resembling the others, of the same appearance, size, figure, color, weight, and of the same chemical components; yet no one of these is identical with any other. When we say, in such a case, that the different pieces are of the same material, we use the word same with some latitude, to denote, not that they are composed of strictly the same particles, that the substance of the one is the very identical substance of the other, but only that they consist of the same sort or kind of substance, that they are, e. g., both wood, or both iron. But this does not constitute identity.

There is no limit to the number of identical bodies which it is possible to conceive on this theory of identity. The same power that constructs one body of given chemical elements, and of given form and structure, may make two such, or ten, and if the first two are identical, the ten are, and they may exist at one and the same time, beside each other, identical with each other, yet ten, every one of which is itself, and yet every one is each of the others!

A relative Term.--Identity is a relative term, like most others that are expressive of quality. The term straight implies the idea of that which is not straight; beauty, the idea of deformity; greatness, its opposite; and so of others. Identity stands related to diversity as its opposite. To have the idea of identity, is to have that of diversity also. To affirm the former, is to deny the latter, and to deny is to have the idea of that which is denied. I do not say there can be no identity without diversity, but only that there can be no idea of the one without the idea, also, of the other, any more than there can be the idea of a tall man without the idea of short men.

Opposite of Diversity.--To affirm identity, then, is simply to deny diversity, to predicate unity, sameness, oneness. Other objects there are, like this, it may be, similar in every respect, capable of being confounded with it, and mistaken for it, but they are other and not it. This we affirm when we affirm identity, non-diversity, non-otherness. Whatever it be that marks off and distinguishes a thing from all other like or unlike objects--whatever constitutes its individuality, its essence--in that consists its identity.

Different applications of the Term.--Evidently, then, the word has somewhat different senses as applied to different classes of objects, whose individuality or essence varies. There are three distinct classes of objects to which the term is applicable. 1. Spiritual existence. 2. Organic and animate material existence. 3. Inorganic matter.

As applied to the first Class.--As regards the first class, spiritual existences, their identity consists in simple oneness and continuity of existence. It is enough that the soul or spirit exist, and continue to exist. So long as this is the case, identity is predicable of it. Should that existence cease, the identity ceases, since the object no longer exists of which identity can be affirmed. Should another spirit be created in its place, and even, if the thing be supposable, should it be endowed, not only with the same qualities, but the same consciousness, so as to be conscious of all that of which the former was conscious, still it would not be identical with the former. It is, by the very supposition, another spirit, and not the same. To be identical with it, it must be the very same essence, being, or existence, and not some other in its place.

It is only of spiritual immaterial existence that identity, in its strict and complete sense, is properly predicable, since it is only this class of existences that retains, unimpaired, its simple oneness, sameness, continuity of essence.

Personal Identity.--When we speak of personal identity, we mean that of the spirit, the soul, the ego, in distinction from the corporeal material part. The evidence of personal identity is consciousness. We know that the thinking conscious existence of to-day, which we call self, me, is one and the same with the thinking conscious self or me of yesterday, and not some other personal existence of like attributes and condition.

Locke's Idea.--Mr. Locke strangely mistook the evidence of personal identity for identity itself, and affirmed that our identity consists in our consciousness. If this were so, then, whenever our consciousness were interrupted, as in sound sleep, or in fainting, or delirium, our identity would be gone. This error has been pointed out, and fully explained, by Dr. Reid, and Bishop Butler, the former of whom makes this supposition: that the same individual is, at different periods of life, a boy at school, a private in the army, and a military commander; while a boy, he is whipped for robbing an orchard; when a soldier, he takes a standard from the enemy, and at that time recollects, perfectly, the whipping when a boy; when commander, he remembers taking the standard but not the whipping. It follows, according to Mr. Locke, that the soldier is identical with the boy, and the general with the soldier, because conscious of the same things, but the general is not identical with the boy, because not conscious of the same things, that is, a is b, and b is c, yet a is not c. The truth is, identity, and the evidence of it, are two things. Were there no consciousness of any thing past, there would still be identity so long as unity and continuity of existence remained.

2. Identity as applied to the second Class.--As regards organic material existence, whether animal or vegetable, the identity consists in that which constitutes the essence or being of the thing, which constitutes it an animal or vegetable existence. It is not mere body, not mere particles of matter, of such number and nature, or even of such arrangement and structure, but along with this, there is a higher principle involved--that of life. The continuity of this mysterious principle of life, under the same general structure and organization of material parts, making throughout one complex unity, one entity, one being, though with many changes, it may be, of separate parts and particles composing the organization; this constitutes the identity of the object.

The identity is no longer complete, no longer absolute, because there is no longer, as in the case of spiritual existence, absolute sameness of essence. Of the complex being under consideration, animal or vegetable, the life-principle is, indeed, one and the same throughout all periods of its existence, but the material organization retains not the same absolute essence, only the same general structure, and form, and adaptation of parts, while the parts and particles themselves are continually changing. It is only in a modified and partial sense, then, not in strict philosophical use of language, that we can predicate identity of any material organic existence. We mean by it, simply, continuity of life under the same general structure and organization; for so far as it has unity at all, this is it. This enables us to distinguish such an object from any and all other like objects of the same kind or sort.

3. Identity as applied to the third Class.--As regards mere inorganic matter, its identity consists, again, in its absolute oneness and sameness. There must be no change of particles, for the essence of the thing now considered lies not in any peculiarity of form, or structure, or life-principle, all which are wanting, but simply in the number and nature of the particles that make up the mass or substance of the thing, and if these change in the least, it is no longer the same essence. There is, properly, then, no such thing as identity in the cases now under consideration, since the particles of any material substance are liable to constant changes. It is only in a secondary and popular sense that we speak of the identity of merely inorganic material substance; strictly speaking, it has no identity, and continues not the same for any two moments.

We say, however, of two pieces of paper, that they are of the same color, meaning that they are both white or both red; of two coins, that they are of the same fineness, the same size, and weight, etc., meaning, thereby, only that the two things are of the same sort of color, the same degree of fineness, etc., and not that the color of the one or the fineness and size of the one is absolutely the essential and identical color, size, fineness of the other. It is by a similar use of terms, not in their strict and proper, but in a loose and secondary sense, that we speak of the identity or sameness of any material substance in itself considered. Strictly, it has no identity unless its substance is absolutely unchanged, which is not true of most, if, indeed, of any material existence, for any successive periods of time.

Popular Use.--There is a popular use of this term which requires further notice. We speak of the identity of a mountain, a river, a tree, or any like object in nature. It is the same mountain, we say, that we looked upon in childhood, the same tree under which we sat when a boy, the same river in which we bathed or fished in youth. Now there is a sense in which this is true and correct. There has been change of substance unquestionably, and therefore there is not absolute identity; but there is, after all, numerical sameness, and this is what we mean when we speak of the sameness or identity of the object. It constitutes a sufficient ground for such use of terms. You recognize the book, the mountain, the river, as one you have seen before. The tree that you pass in your morning walk you recognize as the very tree under which you sat ten years ago. Leaves have changed, bark and fibres have changed; branches are larger and more numerous; boughs, perhaps, have fallen by time and by tempest; it has changed as you have changed, it has grown old like yourself, with changing seasons; its verdure and foliage, like your hopes and plans, lie scattered around it, and yet it is to you the same tree. How so? It is the same numerical unity. Of a thousand or ten thousand similar trees, similar in species, in growth, and form, and adaptation of parts, in size, color, general appearance, etc., it is this individual one, and not some other of the same sort or species growing elsewhere, that you refer to. It is the same numerical unity and not some other one of the series. Still there must be continuity of existence in order to identity even in this popular sense of the term. Were the parts entirely changed and new ones substituted, as in the puzzle of the knife with several successive handles and blades, or the ship whose original timbers, planks, cordage, and entire substance, had, in course of time, by continued repairs, been removed and replaced by new; in such a case, we do not ordinarily speak or think of the object as being any longer the same.

This not absolute Identity.--In the cases now under consideration, in which, in popular language, objects are termed "same" and "identical," which are not strictly so, there is comparative rather than absolute unity and identity. There is reference always in such cases to other objects of the same kind, sort, and description, a series of which the object of present cognition is one, and to which series it holds the same relation now that it held formerly. As when, of several books on a table, you touch one, and after the interval of some moments or hours touch the same again; you say, The book I last touched is the same I touched before, the identical one; you do not mean that its substance is absolutely unchanged, that it has the same precise number of particles in its composition as before--this is not in your mind at all--but only that the unity thus designated is the same unity previously designated, that, and not some other one of the series of similar objects. It is a comparative idea, a comparative identity, in which numerical unity is the element chiefly regarded.

Possible Plurality implied.--In all cases where the idea of identity arises in the mind, there is implied a possible plurality of objects of the same general character; the idea of such diversity or plurality is before the mind, and the foundation of that idea is the difference of cognition. The same object is viewed by the same person at different times or by different persons at the same time, and in that case, though the object itself should be absolutely one and the same, yet there have been distinct, separate cognitions of it, and this plurality or difference of cognition is a sufficient foundation for the idea of a possible diversity of object. The book as known to-day and the book as known yesterday, are two distinct objects of thought. The cognition now, and the cognition then, are two separate acts of the mind; and the question arises, Are the objects distinct, as well as the cognitions? This is the question of identity. You have an immediate, irresistible conviction that the object of these several cognitions is one and the same. You affirm its identity, absolute or comparative, as the case may be.

The Conception of Identity amounts to what.--In every case of affirmed identity, then, there is implied a possible plurality of objects; a difference of cognition of a given object, whether one person cognizant at different times, or different persons at the same time; a question whether the possible plurality, as regards the object of these different cognitions, is an actual plurality; a conviction and decision that it is not, that the object is one and the same; and this sameness and unity are absolute or comparative, according as we use the language in its strict, primitive, philosophical meaning, or in its loose and popular sense. In the one case, it is sameness of absolute essence, in the other, sameness of nominal relation to others of a series or class.

IV. CAUSE.

Meaning of the Term.--The idea of cause is one with which every mind is familiar. It is not easy, however, to explain precisely what we mean by it, nor to fix its limits, nor to unfold its origin.

We mean by this term, I think, as ordinarily employed, that on which some consequence depends, that but for which some event or phenomenon would not occur. In order to affirm that one thing is the cause of another, I must know, not merely that they are connected, but that the existence of the one depends on that of the other. This is more than mere antecedence, however invariable. The approach of a storm may be invariably indicated by the changes of the barometer. These changes precede the storm, but are not the cause of it.

Origin of the Idea.--Whence do we derive the idea of cause?--a question of some importance, and much discussed.

Evidently not from sense. I observe, for example, the melting of snow before the fire, or wax before the flame of a taper. What is it that I see in this case? Merely the phenomenon, nothing more. All that sense conveys, all that the eye reports, is simply the melting of the one substance in the presence and vicinity of the other. I see no cause, no form transmitted from the one to the other, no action of the one on the other, but simply the vicinity of the two, and the change taking place in one. I infer that the change takes place in consequence of the vicinity. I believe it; and if the experiment is often repeated with the same results, I cannot doubt that it is so. The idea of causality is, indeed, suggested by what I have seen, but is not given by sense. I have not seen the cause; that lies hidden, occult, its nature wholly unknown, and its very existence known, not by what I have actually seen, but by that law of the mind which leads me to believe that every event must have a cause, and to look for that cause in whatever circumstance is known to be invariably connected with the given change or event.

Constitution of the Mind.--That such is the constitution of the mind, such the law of its action, admits of no reasonable doubt. No sooner is an event or phenomenon observed, than we conclude, at once, that it is an effect, and begin to inquire the cause. We cannot, by any effort of conception, persuade ourselves that there is absolutely no cause.

Not derived from Sense.--But is not this principle of causality derived from experience? We have already said that sense does not give it. I do not see with the eye the cause of the melting of the wax, much less does what I see contain the general principle, that every event must have a cause. Sense does not give me this.

Whether from Consciousness.--Still, may it not be a matter of experience in another way, given by consciousness, though not by sense. For example, I am conscious of certain volitions. These volitions are accompanied with certain muscular movements, and these, again, are followed by certain sensible effects upon surrounding objects. These changes produced on objects without are directly connected thus with my own mental states and changes, with the volitions of which I am directly conscious. Given, the volition on my part, with the corresponding muscular effort, and the external change is produced. I never observe it taking place without such preceding volition. I learn to regard my will as the cause, and the external change as the effect. I observe that it is in the power of others to produce changes in like manner. Thus I obtain the general idea of cause. It is given by consciousness and experience.

Notion of Causality not thus derived.--It is to this source that a very able and ingenious French philosopher would attribute our first idea of cause. I refer to Maine de Biran. I should agree with M. de Biran, that consciousness of our own voluntary efforts, and of the effects thus produced, may give us our first notion of cause. But it does not give us the law of causality. It extends to a given instance only, explains that, explains nothing further than that, cannot go beyond. I am conscious that in this given instance I have set in operation a train of antecedents and sequences which results in the given effect. I am not conscious that every event has, in like manner, a cause. My experience warrants no such assumption. No induction of facts and cases can possibly amount to this. Induction can multiply and generalize, but cannot stamp on that which is merely empirical and contingent, the character of universality and necessity. The law of causality, in a word, is to be distinguished from any given instance, or number of instances, of actually observed causation. The latter fall within the range of consciousness and experience, the former is given, if at all, as a law of the mind, a primary truth, an idea of reason.

Remarks of Professor Bowen.--As Professor Bowen has well observed, "The maxim, 'Every event must have a cause,' is not, like the so-called laws of nature, a mere induction founded on experience, and holding good only until an instance is discovered to the contrary; it is a necessary and immutable truth. It is not derived from observation of natural phenomena, but is super-imposed upon such observation by a necessity of the human intellect. It is not made known through the senses; and its falsity, under any circumstances, is not possible, is not even conceivable. The cause to which it points us, is not to be found in nature. The mere physicist, after vainly searching, ever since the world began, for a single instance of it, has, at length, abandoned the attempt as hopeless, and now confines himself to the mere description of natural phenomena. The true cause of these phenomena must be sought for in the realm, not of matter, but of mind."

What constitutes Cause.--In this last remark, the author quoted touches upon a question of no little moment. What constitutes a cause? We cannot here enter into the discussion of this question. It is sufficient to remark, that in the ordinary use of the word, as denoting that, but for which a given result will not be, many things beside mind are included as causes. A hammer, or some like instrument, is essential to the driving of a nail. The hammer may be called the cause of the nail being driven; the blow struck by means of the hammer may also be so designated. More properly, the arm which gave the blow, and, more correctly still, the mind which willed the movement of the arm, and not the consequent blow of the hammer, may be said to be the cause. If we seek for ultimate and efficient causes, we must, doubtless, come back to the realm of mind. It is mind that is, in every case, the first mover, the originator of any effect, and it may, therefore, be called the true and prime cause, the cause of causes.

History of the Doctrine.--Aristotle's View.--The history of the doctrine of causality presents a number of widely different theories, a brief outline of which is all that we can here give. The most ancient division and classification of causes is that of Aristotle, which is based on the following analysis: Every work brought to completion implies four things: an agent by whom it is done, an element or material of which it is wrought, a plan or idea according to which it is fashioned, and an end for which it is produced. Thus, to the production of a statue there must be a statuary, a block of marble, a plan in the mind of the artist, and a motive for the execution of the work. The first of these is termed the efficient cause, the second the material cause, the third the formal, and the fourth the final cause. This classification was universally adopted by the scholastic philosophers, and, to some extent, is still prevalent. We still speak of efficient and of final causes.

Locke's Derivation of Cause.--With regard to the origin of the idea of cause, there has been the greatest diversity of opinion. Locke derives it from sense; so do the philosophers of the sensationalist school. We perceive bodies modifying each other, and hence the notion of causality.

Theory of Hume and of Brown.--Hume denies the existence of what we call cause, or power of one object over another. He resolves it into succession or sequence of objects in regular order, and consequent association of them in our thoughts. Essentially the same is the theory of Brown, who resolves cause and effect into simple antecedence and sequence, beyond which we know nothing, and can affirm nothing.

Theory of Leibnitz.--The theory of Leibnitz verges upon the opposite extreme, and assigns the element of power or causal efficiency to every form of existence; every substance is a force, a cause, in itself.

Of Kant.--Kant and his school make cause a merely subjective notion, a law of the understanding, which it impresses upon outward things, a condition of our thought. We observe external phenomena, and, according to this law of our intelligence, are under the necessity of arranging them as cause and effect; but we do not know that, independent of our conception, there exists in reality any thing corresponding to this idea. The tendency of this theory, as well as that of Hume and Brown, to a thorough-going skepticism, is obvious at a glance. The theory of Maine de Biran has been already noticed.

V. THE IDEA OF THE BEAUTIFUL, AND OF RIGHT.

These Ideas Intuitive.--- Among the primary ideas awakened in the mind by the faculty of original or intuitive conception, ideas of reason, as some writers would prefer to call them, must be included the notion of the beautiful, and also that of right--ideas more important in themselves, and in their bearing on human happiness, than almost any others which the mind entertains. That these ideas are to be traced, ultimately, to the originative or intuitive faculty, there can be little doubt. They are simple and primary ideas. They have the characteristics of universality and necessity. They are awakened intuitively and instantaneously in the mind, when the appropriate occasion is presented by sense. There are certain objects in nature and art, which, so soon as perceived, strike us as beautiful. There are certain traits of character and courses of conduct, which, so soon as observed, strike us as morally right and wrong. The ideas of the beautiful and the right are thus awakened in the mind on the perception of the corresponding objects.

Things to be considered respecting them.--Viewed as notions of the intuitive faculty, or original conceptions, it would be in place to consider more particularly the circumstances under which each of these ideas originates, and the characteristics of each; also what constitutes, in either case, the object, what constitutes the beautiful and the right.

These Topics reserved for separate Discussion.--These matters deserve a wider and fuller discussion, however, than would here be in place. The ideas under consideration are to be viewed, not merely as conceptions of the reason or intuition, but as constituting the material of two distinct and important departments of mental activity, two distinct classes of judgments, viz., the æsthetic and the moral. The conceptions of the beautiful and the right, furnished by the originative or intuitive power of the mind, constitute the material and basis on which the reflective power works, and as thus employed, the mental activity assumes the form, and is known under the familiar names of taste and conscience, or, as we may term them, the æsthetic and moral faculties. As such, we reserve them for distinct consideration in the following pages, bearing in mind, as we proceed, that these faculties, so called, are not properly new powers of the mind, but merely forms of the reflective faculty, as exercised upon this particular class of ideas.