Philosophical Works of the Late James Frederick Ferrier/Institutes of Metaphysic (1875)/Section 1/Proposition 6
PROPOSITION VI.
THE UNIVERSAL AND THE PARTICULAR IN COGNITION.
Every cognition[1] must contain an element common to all cognition, and an element (or elements) peculiar to itself: in other words, every cognition must have a part which is unchangeable, necessary, and universal (the same in all), and a part which is changeable, contingent, and particular (different in all); and there can be no knowledge of the unchangeable, necessary, and universal part, exclusive of the changeable, contingent, and particular part; or of the changeable, contingent, and particular part, exclusive of the unchangeable, necessary, and universal part: that is to say, neither of these parts by itself can constitute a cognition; but all knowledge is necessarily a synthesis of both factors.
DEMONSTRATION.
If every cognition did not contain an element common to all cognition, there could be no unity in cognitions; they could not be classed together. But they are classed together. They all rank as cognitions. Therefore every cognition must contain an element common to all cognition. Again, if every cognition did not contain an element (or elements) peculiar to itself, there could be no diversity in cognitions; they could not be distinct from each other. But they are distinct from each other. They rank not only as cognitions, but as different cognitions. Therefore every cognition must contain an element (or elements) peculiar to itself. And thus the constitution of every cognition involves an unchangeable, necessary, and universal part—a part which is the same in all,—and a changeable, contingent, and particular part—a part which is different in all; and there can be no knowledge of either of these parts by itself, or exclusive of the other part; but all knowledge is necessarily a synthesis of both factors.
OBSERVATIONS AND EXPLANATIONS.
1. The words "unchangeable" (or permanent) Explanation of words."necessary" (or essential), "universal" (or common or general), as here employed, are nearly or altogether synonymous. The unchangeable is that which cannot be changed in cognition, and is therefore equivalent to the necessary and universal. The necessary is that which cannot be dispensed with, or got rid of in cognition, and is therefore equivalent to the unchangeable and universal. The universal is that which is everywhere and always present in cognition, and is therefore equivalent to the unchangeable and necessary. In contrast to these terms stand the words "changeable" (or fluctuating), contingent" (or accidental), "particular" (or peculiar). These, too, are mere varieties of the same expression. The changeable is that which can be changed in cognition, and is therefore equivalent to the contingent and particular. The contingent is that which may be otherwise in cognition, and is therefore equivalent to the changeable and particular. The particular is that which may be displaced in cognition, and replaced by some other particular, and is therefore equivalent to the changeable and contingent
In what sense the contingent element is necessary, and in what sense it is contingent.2. This proposition declares that every cognition must contain a particular and contingent, as well as a universal and necessary element. Hence it may be concluded that the contingent element is as necessary to the constitution of knowledge as the he constitution of knowledge as the necessary element is. And so, in one sense, it is. No knowledge is possible except through a union of these two factors. Therefore, neither part can be supposed to be wanting, without destroying the very conception of knowledge. But the explanation is this: although the contingent element cannot be abolished or left out, and is, therefore, in a certain sense necessary, it may nevertheless be changed. It is susceptible of infinite or indefinite variation. One particular (a tree, for instance) may be removed, but provided another particular (a house or something else) be placed before me, my knowledge continues to subsist. This element, then, is regarded as contingent, not because every form of it can be dispensed with—not because knowledge can take place without it, but solely because it can be varied. It is accidental because it is fluctuating. A cognition cannot be formed without some peculiar feature entering into its composition; but a cognition can be formed without this, or that, or any peculiar feature that can be named, entering into its composition; for the varieties of the particular constituent are inexhaustible. If one form of it disappears, another comes in its place. The peculiar part of cognition may always be other than it is: if it could not, there would be an end to every variety of knowledge, and consequently to knowledge itself. A flower may be apprehended instead of a book—a sound instead of a colour; any one particular instead of any other. Hence this element is contingent throughout all its phases. On the other hand, the universal element is regarded as necessary, not because it alone is essential to the constitution of knowledge, but because it is invariable. On this factor no changes can be rung. Being the common quality of all knowledge, it admits of no variation; being the same in all, it can have no substitute; being uniform, it has no phases. It can never be other than it is. If it could, it would no longer be the common quality. Our cognitions would lose their unity. They would cease to be cognitions, just as they would cease to be cognition by the suppression of the peculiar element which imparts to them their diversity. Hence the common element is necessary with a double necessity. It can neither be abolished nor changed. The particular element is necessary only with a single necessity. It cannot be abolished: some peculiarity must attach to every cognition; but it can be changed; it is changed incessantly. Vicissitude is its very character; and therefore, in all its forms, it is contingent or accidental.
Why this proposition is introduced.3. The truth of this proposition was tacitly assumed in the introduction to this work, and is indeed presupposed by the very nature and terms of the inquiry. For when it is asked, What is the one element common to all knowledge—the constant feature present in every cognition?—(see Introduction, § 85, also foot-note p. 73,)—this question, of course, implies that there is such an element or feature, and also that our cognitions contain other constituents of a variable and particular character. But a formal enunciation and proof of the proposition have been brought forward, because, while it presents the only correct analysis of knowledge, and the only tenable doctrine on the subject of "the particular and the universal," it affords an opening for a few remarks on the history of that much-debated but still undecided topic. This proposition is the thesis of that controversy—the institute which settles it. The main purpose, however, which this proposition serves is, that it supplies the only premiss from which it is competent to prove that the mind cannot be known to be material[2]—a point essential to ulterior proceedings, and which must be made good in order to support the concluding truth of the ontology.
Question concerning the particular and the universal instead of being made a question of Knowing.4. Like every other question in philosophy, the discussion respecting "particulars and universals" was begun at the wrong end. This topic was made a question of Being before it had undergone probationary scrutiny and received settlement as a question of Knowing. The Greek philosophers, at a very early period, were impressed with the correct conviction that all science is the pursuit of the universal amid the particular, the permanent amid the fluctuating, the necessary amid the contingent, the One in the All. But they applied this right method to the consideration of a wrong object. Overlooking, or paying but little heed to, the circumstance that all knowledge is made up of these two constituents, they leaped forward, without sufficient evidence, to the conclusion that all existence is composed in the same way—is a synthesis of the particular and the universal. They thus lost themselves, at the outset, in ontological rhapsodies and hypotheses. Instead of pausing to study the constitution of knowledge, as that which could alone afford a reasonable basis for any scheme of ontology—instead of searching out the element common to all knowledge, the necessary, as distinguished from the contingent, part of thinking—the factor which never varies amid all the fluctuations of cognition—the one known in all known—they proceeded at once to the investigation of Being, and went in quest of the element common to all existence—the factor which never varies amid all the fluctuations of the natural universe—the necessary, as distinguished from the contingent, part of things—the one Being in all being; and, in consequence of this inverted procedure, their researches ended in nought.
Was made a question of being by the early philosophers. Thales.5. This mistaken direction showed itself most in the earliest period of speculation. Thus, when Thales maintained that moisture, or when Anaximenes proclaimed that air, was the one in the many—the principle common to all existence—the research was evidently an inquiry into being, and moreover into mere material being. Such crude essays are memorable only as early indications of a right tendency wrongly directed; the right tendency being the inclination to detect some one circumstance common to a multitude of diversified phenomena—its wrong direction being the application of this inclination to the phenomena of existence, and not, in the first instance, to the phenomena of cognition.
Parmenides. What change he effected on the question.6. Parmenides extended the inquiry beyond mere sensible or material existence; but he effected no revolution in the character of the problem. Conceiving that the only truth worthy of a philosopher's consideration was such as could not possibly be other than it is; and aware, moreover, that truth characterised by this strict necessity was not to be found amid the phenomena of sense, he rejected, as of no value in philosophy, the meagre results of the physical inquirers who had preceded him. The central and abiding principle of the universe, the common quality, the binding unity in all things, must present itself, not only as an actual fact of nature, but as a necessary truth of reason. Intelligence must be incompetent to think it otherwise than it is. Its negation must be a contradiction, an absurdity. Such a principle, therefore, cannot be found in the material world,—cannot be apprehended by the senses; for these might have been different from what they are, and all their intimations might have been different. So far Parmenides got. He removed the inquiry from the region of contingency into the region of necessity. But he did not shift it from the field of Being to that of Knowing.
It still related to Being—not to Knowing.7. This change was important. A great step is gained so soon as necessary, and not contingent, truth is felt to be the right object of speculative interest, and to have a paramount claim on our regard. But the revolution being incomplete—the question still being, What is?—not, What is known? the research continued to turn in a circle without making any advance. Parmenides and his school kept swimming in a fatal eddy. There is, said they, one Being in all Being, or rather in all Becoming,—a universal essence which changes not with the vicissitudes of mundane things. And this one Being, this essence of all existence, is the only true Being. But what is it, this one Being,—this universal essence? The only answer is, that it is the one being, the never-changing essence, the immutable amid the mutable, the necessary amid the contingent, and so forth. The childish generalisations of the school of Thales are quite as satisfactory as these unreasoned and unmeaning repetitions.
Indecision of Greek speculation. The three crises of philosophy.8. When it is said that these philosophers speculated concerning the nature of Being, and not concerning the nature of Knowing, this does not mean that they entered on the former research under the influence of any clear and deliberate preference, or adhered to it exclusively. The distinction, at that time, had not been definitely made; even to this hour it has never been dearly laid down, or kept constantly in view. It is not, therefore, to be supposed that these philosophers expressly excluded the laws and constitution of knowledge from their consideration. An inorganic epistemology, like a primitive stratum, crops out, at intervals, through the crust of their ontological lucubrations; and their conjectures about existence are interspersed with notices about cognition. There is, indeed, a constant tendency in their speculations to work the question round from the one of these topics into the other, and to ask not only, how do things exist; how and what are they; what renders them existent? but also to raise the very different question, how are things known; how and what do we think about them; what renders them intelligible? The crude cosmogonies which have the former investigation in view, break asunder ever and anon, and afford glimpses of intellectual systems which aim at afford glimpses of intellectual systems which aim at the solution of the latter more accessible problem. This obscure movement, this wavering to and fro between the question of Being and that of Knowing, is the chief point of interest in the development of the Greek metaphysic. But while it was going on, it had the effect of entangling the operations of reason in coils which it is scarcely possible to unravel. Philosophy has three crises: First, when the nature of Being, or the question, What is? is proposed for solution before the nature of Knowing, or the question, What is known? is taken into consideration; Secondly, when Being and Knowing are inquired into together, and indiscriminately, by means of a mixed research; and, Thirdly, when the nature of Knowing is examined, and the question, What is known? is asked and answered before any attention is given to the problem which relates to existence. During the first period there is most error, for the whole method is wrong; the order of procedure is inverted. Here speculation is at its minimum. During the second period there is most confusion, for the attempt to carry out the two theories simultaneously, and not in succession, gives rise to the utmost disorder. But there is less error, for the revolution which adjourns the one question, and brings the other round for examination, is in progress. The method is coming right; speculation is beginning to assert itself. But it is only during the third period that light can be looked for, when all consideration of that which exists is resolutely waived, until that which is known has been determined. Speculation is then on the ascendant.
Plato appeared during the second crisis. His aim.9. The writings of Plato are eminently characteristic of the second of these crises. In the hands of this philosopher, the discussion respecting the particular and the universal became a mixed research, in which the attempt was made to determine, at one stroke, both what is, and what is known. The existing particular and universal (the former element being the τὸ γιγνόμενον, the latter the τὸ ὄν was no longer the sole or perhaps even the main object of inquiry. It was considered along with the known particular and universal; the former element being the τὸ αἰσθητόν, the latter the εἶδος, or ἰδέα. The two speculations, which, however, were continually interlacing, went on side by side; and the result given out, as may be inferred from a liberal interpretation of the spirit of the Platonic philosophy, was that the known and the existent are coincident. The particular and the universal in existence were declared to be, in all essential respects, identical with the particular and universal in cognition.
10. And doubtless this coincidence is the highest truth which Philosophy seeks to establish—is the The coincidence of the known and the existent must be proved, not guessed at.sublimest lesson she can teach. To this end all her labours are directed, all her instructions minister. To prove it, is to reach the truth. But the coincidence of the known and the existent—the equation of Knowing and Being—is not to be assumed: it is not enough merely to surmise it. Its exhibition must be reasoned, and this reasoning is the most delicate, as well as the most extensive operation in metaphysics. It is indeed nothing less than the whole length of that dialectical chain, the laying out of whose separate links in an unbroken sequence of demonstrated propositions is the end which these institutes have in view. And this undertaking can be carried to a successful issue only by an ascertainment of the conditions on which alone any knowledge is possible—no respect being paid, in the first instance, and pending that preliminary inquisition, to anything which may be supposed to exist.
Plato's deficiencies.11. Here it was that Plato broke down. Instead of proving the coincidence of the known and the existent, he assumed it. But this assumption did not require the genius of a Plato: any man could have assumed it. What was wanted was its demonstration: for unreasoned truth is an alien from philosophy, although it may not be an outcast from humanity. But this proof Plato did not supply. His method, indeed, or rather want of method, rendered anything like a demonstration impossible. For the solution of the problem requires, as its very condition, that the two questions, which he ran into one, should be kept perfectly distinct. Hence his ultimate conclusion, however true, is groundless. Hence, too, the perplexed character of his whole train of speculation. His doctrine of Knowing is so closely intertwisted with his doctrine of Being, that it may be doubted whether his own eye could trace the strands of the discussion, or whether the filaments themselves were separate. His expositors, at any rate, have never been able to give any intelligible account of either theory, whether viewed separately, or viewed in their amalgamation.
His merits. The question respecting the particular and the universal demands an entire reconsideration.12. Nevertheless, if Plato was confused and unsystematic in execution, he was large in design, and magnificent in surmises. His pliant genius sits close to universal reality, like the sea which fits in to all the sinuosities of the land. Not a shore of thought was left untouched by his murmuring lip. Over deep and over shallow he rolls on, broad, urbane, and unconcerned. To this day, all philosophic truth is Plato rightly divined; all philosophic error is Plato misunderstood. Out of this question respecting the particular and the universal, as moved by him, came the whole philosophy of the Alexandrian absolutists, the whole contentions of the medieval schoolmen. Around it all modern speculation gravitates. Even psychology has laid her small finger on this gigantic theme, and vainly imagines that she has settled it for ever. But the wheel of controversy still moves round in darkness, and no explanation hitherto offered has sufficed to arrest the flying truth or to dispel the gloom. Realism, conceptualism, and nominalism, have all been tried in vain: they are all equally at fault. These quack medicaments bring no relief. These shallow words are not the
Verba et voces quibus hunc lenire dolorem
Possis.
No one knows where the exact point of the controversy—the true cause of the confusion—lies. To reach the source of the mischief, as well as the healing springs, the whole question, both in itself and in its history, must be excavated anew.
A preliminary ambiguity.13. A preliminary ambiguity presents itself. The doctrine of the particular and the universal, whether considered in relation to knowledge, or in relation to existence, is nowhere embodied by Plato in any distinct proposition. It may, therefore, mean either, first, that every cognition is both particular and universal; in other words, that each cognition has a part peculiar to itself, and a part common to all cognition—is, in short, a synthesis of both factors, as affirmed in this sixth proposition; or, secondly, it may mean that every cognition is either particular or universal; in other words, that some cognitions contain only that which is peculiar to them, while others consist only of that which is common to all, or to many cognitions. In short, that some cognitions are mere particular cognitions, and that others are mere universal cognitions; or, more shortly, that either factor by itself may constitute a cognition.
Further statement of ambiguity.14. The same ambiguity pervades his doctrine of the particular and the universal, considered in relation to existence. It may either mean that every existence is both particular and universal—that each existing thing has a part peculiar to itself, and a part common to all, or to many existing things; or it may mean that every existence is either particular or universal; in other words, that some beings contain only that which is peculiar to them, while others consist only of that which is common to all or to many beings; in short, that some existences are mere particular existences, and that others are mere universal or general existences.
Illustration of the ambiguity.15. Or the question may be put in this way: Is Plato's analysis of knowledge and of existence a division of these into elements (a particular element and a universal element), or is it a division of them into kinds (a particular kind and a universal kind)? It is obvious that these divisions are very different, and that, until we know which of the two is intended, we can make no progress, and should run into extreme confusion, were we to acknowledge no distinction between them, or mistake the one for the other. When the chemist (to illustrate this matter) analyzes certain substances—salts, for example—into elements, finds a common base on the one hand, and certain specific differences on the other, we should fall into a serious error were we to suppose that each of the elements was a kind of salt; just as we should fall into an equal error if, on his dividing salts into kinds or classes, we were to suppose that each of the classes was a mere element of salt. When the logician, in the terms of the hackneyed definition, analyzes human beings into "organised and rational," our mistake would be considerable, were we to understand his statement as a division of human beings into kinds; for, in that case, we should conceive one class of men to be organised, but not rational, and another class to be rational, but not organised. The division must be accepted as a resolution of human nature into its essential constituents—to wit, bodily organisation and reason. Again, when human beings are divided into male and female, this is a separation of them into kinds; to mistake it for an analysis of mankind into elements would lead to very awkward misapprehensions.
16. So in regard to the analysis of cognition and of existence. It is one thing to say that all cognitions and all existences contain both a universal and all existences contain both a universal Is the Platonic analysis of cognition and existence a division into elements or into kinds?and particular element; it is quite a different thing to say that every cognition and every existence is either a particular or a universal cognition—a particular or a universal existence. These two affirmations, although apparently akin, and very liable to be mistaken for each other, are so far from being the same that each is the direct denial of the other. For if the analysis be a division into elements, and if every cognition and every existence must be both particular and universal, there cannot be one kind of cognition which is particular, and another kind which is universal, or one kind of existence which is particular, and another kind which is universal. The elements of cognition, and the elements of existence, cannot be themselves cognitions or existences, any more than the elements of salt can be themselves salts. To suppose the elements of cognition to be themselves cognitions, or the elements of existence to be themselves existences, would be to mistake the division into elements for the division into kinds. Again, if the analysis be a division into kinds, and if every cognition and every existence must be either particular or universal, there can be no cognitions and no existences which are both particular and universal. Kinds of cognition, and kinds of existence, can never be mere elements of cognition, or elements of existence, any more than the different kinds of salts can be mere elements of salt; and to suppose them to be such, would be to mistake the division into kinds for the division into elements. Thus the two analyses are not only different; they are absolutely incompatible with each other. Each denies all that the other affirms. It is, therefore, a point of essential importance to determine which of the two was contemplated by Plato in his theory of Knowing and Being. He divides all cognition into the particular and the universal. That is certain: the doubtful point is, whether the analysis is a division into elements, or a division into kinds; for it cannot be both. He likewise divides all existence into the particular and the universal. That, also, is certain. But is this analysis a division into elements or into kinds? That is the point which Plato has left somewhat undecided; and it is one on which we must come to a distinct understanding if we would comprehend his philosophy, either in itself or in its bearings on the subsequent course of speculation.
Rightly interpreted, it is a division into elements.17. Although no express decision of this question can be found in the writings of Plato, the whole tenor of his speculations proves beyond a doubt that his aim, in both cases, was the ascertainment of elements, and not the enumeration of kinds; and that in affirming that all knowledge and all existence was both particular and universal, he intended to deny, and virtually did deny, that some cognitions and some existences were merely particular, and that others were merely universal. Whether this denial is a true doctrine in so far as existence is concerned, must be reserved for subsequent consideration; that question cannot be touched upon in the epistemology. But it is certainly a true doctrine in so far as knowledge is concerned, and as such it is advanced and advocated in this sixth proposition. In justice, therefore, to Plato—for every philosopher is entitled to the best construction which can be put upon his opinions—we are bound to hold that his analysis of cognition and of existence was intended as a resolution of these into their elements: and being this, it was equivalent to a denial that these elements were kinds of cognition or kinds of existence. If a man maintains that every drop of water is composed of the two elements, hydrogen and oxygen, he virtually denies that hydrogen, by itself, is a kind of water, and that oxygen, by itself, is a kind of water. So if a man affirms that every existence consists of two elements, and that every cognition consists of two elements, he virtually denies that either of the elements, by itself, is a kind of existence or a kind of cognition. This position, affirmative and negative, we believe Plato to have occupied.
18. But various obstacles prevented this doctrine from being accepted, or even understood. The main It has been generally mistaken for a division into kinds.impediment was that which has been already insisted on—the neglect to keep the theory of Knowing distinct from the theory of Being, and to work out the one completely before entering on the other. This omission threw the whole undertaking into disorder, and led to a total misconception of the character of the Platonic analysis. Plato's epistemology was unripe. He had merely succeeded in carrying our cognitions up into certain subordinate unities, certain inferior universals, called by him ideas, and which afterward; under the name of genera and species, afforded such infinite torment to the school-men, until they were disposed of, and laid at rest for a time, by the short-sighted exorcisms of psychology. But there he stuck. He failed to carry them up into their highest unity. He missed the real and crowning universal, and lost himself among fictitious ones. The summum genus of cognition, which is no abstraction but a living reality, has no place in his system. He has nowhere announced what it is. Hence his theory of knowledge was left incomplete, and being incomplete it was unintelligible; for in philosophy the completed alone is the comprehensible. His theory of existence was still more bewildering: it was burthened with its own difficulties and defects, besides those entailed upon it by an epistemology which was very considerably in rear. This, the ontological aspect of the Platonic doctrine, was the side which was chiefly looked to, and which principally influenced the philosophy of succeeding times. Yet what could be made of a doctrine which asserted that all existence was both particular and universal, in the face of an unbounded creation, apparently teeming with merely particular existences? That position seemed to be checkmated at once, both by the senses and the reason of mankind. Could Plato have maintained a thesis so indefensible? That was scarcely credible: and altogether the perplexity was so great that philosophers were driven to accept the other alternative, as the simpler and more intelligible interpretation of the two, and to construe the Platonic analysis of Knowing and Being as a division of these into kinds, and not into elements. They supposed Plato to maintain that every cognition and every existence is either particular or universal; and thus they ascribed to him the very doctrine which he virtually denied, and took from him the very doctrine which he virtually affirmed.
Explanation of this charge.19. This charge requires some explanation. When it is said that philosophers generally have misapprehended the Platonic analysis, this does not mean that they expressly adopted the wrong interpretation, and expressly disavowed the right one. They were not thus explicit in their error: they did not perceive the wideness of the distinction between kinds and elements, and, therefore, all that is meant is that they manifested a marked bias in favour of the wrong interpretation without adhering to it consistently. The most perplexing cases with which the historian of philosophy has to deal are those in which he finds two mutually contradictory doctrines advocated without any suspicion of their repugnancy, and as if they were little more than two forms of one and the same opinion. It is difficult to deal with a case of this kind, because it may seem unfair to charge a writer with maintaining an opinion when, at the same time, he advances something which directly contradicts it. The only way of coming to a settlement is by taking into account the general tone and scope of his observations, and by giving him credit for the doctrine towards which he appears most to incline. The case before us is one of this description. The discordancy of the two analyses was not perceived by those who speculated in the wake of Plato. Hence, at one time, they may speak of the particular and the universal as if these were mere elements, and, at another time, as if they were kinds of cognition or of existence. But the prevailing tone of their discussions shows that they favoured the latter interpretation. Plato is supposed to have held that there was a lower kind of knowledge (particular cognitions, sensible impressions), which was conversant with a lower class of things—namely, particular existences; and a higher kind of knowledge (universal cognition; general conceptions, ideas), which dealt with a higher order of things—to wit, universal existences. An inferior kind of knowledge occupied about particulars, and a superior kind of knowledge occupied about universals—that is the doctrine usually ascribed to Plato; and most fatal has this perversion of his meaning proved to the subsequent fortunes of philosophy. The general tenor of speculation during the last two thousand years, as well as its present aspect, betrays at every turn and in every feature the influence of this cardinal misconception—this transmutation of elements into kinds—this mistaking for cognitions of what are the mere factors of cognition.
Sixth counter-proposition.20. This erroneous interpretation, and indeed reversal of the Platonic doctrine, after giving rise to interminable controversies, which shall be noticed immediately, has at length settled down in the following counter-proposition, which represents faithfully the ordinary psychological deliverance on the subject of knowledge—the topic of existence being of course kept out of the question at present. Sixth counter-proposition: "Every cognition is either particular or universal (also called general); in other word; there is a knowledge of the changeable, contingent, and particular part of cognition, to the exclusion of the unchangeable, necessary, and universal part; and a knowledge of the unchangeable, necessary, and universal part, to the exclusion of the changeable, contingent, and particular part. Thus there is one kind of knowledge which is particular, and another kind which is universal or general. The particular cognitions are cognitions of particular things only—such as this tree, that book, and so forth. These precede the universal or general cognitions, which are subsequent formations. The latter are cognitions, not of universal things, but of nonentities. They are mere fabrications of the mind formed by means of abstraction and generalisation. They are also termed conceptions or general notions,—such notions as are expressed by the words, man, animal, tree, and all other terms denoting genera and species."
This counter-proposition is itself a proof of the charge here made against philosophers.21. The statement of this counter-proposition is sufficient of itself to prove the truth of the charge advanced against philosophers, namely, that they have misinterpreted the Platonic analysis, and have mistaken for cognitions what Plato laid down as mere elements of cognition—and which, being mere elements of cognitions, could not, by any possibility, be cognitions themselves. For it is certain that, in the opinion of psychology as declared in this counter-proposition, the particular cognitions are entertained by the mind before the general ones are formed, which they could not be held to be, unless they were held to be a distinct species of cognition. But if the particular are held to be distinct from the general cognitions, it is plain that the latter must be held to be distinct from the former. It is also certain that this doctrine has been inherited by psychology from a source much older than herself; and that this source can be no other than the misinterpretation which has been just laid to the charge of philosophers—and the truth of which allegation is now clearly established by these considerations. Had the Platonic analysis been rightly understood, and its true meaning been widely disseminated at first, no such doctrine as that embodied in the counter-proposition could ever have obtained an ascendancy, or even found a place, in philosophy.
Review of our position.22. Before touching on the controversies to which allusion has been made, it may be well to review our position. The Platonic analysis of knowledge and existence into the particular and the universal admits of two interpretations. The particular and the universal may be either elements or kinds; and if they are the one, they cannot be the other. These two interpretations, being directly opposed to each other, open up two separate lines for speculation to move along. The one line which issues from the right interpretation—that, namely, which declares that the particular and the universal are mere elements—has never yet been followed out,—scarcely even entered upon. Philosophy has travelled almost entirely on the other line, which proceeds from the wrong interpretation—that, namely, which holds that the particular and the universal are kinds of cognition and kinds of existence. This path has been the highway on which systems have jostled systems and strewn the road with their ruins, since the days of Plato down through the middle ages, and on to the present time. And now, standing in the very source of the mistake which feeds the whole of them, and in which they all join issue—the misconception, namely, which has been already sufficiently described—we are in a position to unravel the controversies in which they were engaged, and to understand how none of them should have succeeded in establishing any truth of its own, however successful they may have been in refuting the errors of each other.
Misinterpretation of the Platonic analysis traced into its consequences.23. Our business, then, is to trace into its consequences, as manifested in the history of philosophy, the current misinterpretation of the Platonic analysis of knowledge and existence. Cognitions being supposed to be divided by Plato into two kinds or classes—a particular and a universal kind—and not into two elements—a particular and a universal element—the question immediately arose, What is the nature of the existences which correspond to these classes of cognition? In regard to the particular class there was little or no difficulty. The particular existences around us—this table, that chair, or book, or tree—these and the like particular things were held to correspond to our particular cognitions. In such a statement there may be no great novelty or interest; but it seems to contain nothing but what a plain man may very readily concede. Whether it be really intelligible or not, it is, at any rate, apparently intelligible.
Perplexity as to general existences.24. But what kind of existences correspond to the universal cognitions? That was the puzzle. If the analysis of cognition be a division into kinds, and if the particular cognitions are distinct from the universal, and have their appropriate objects—to wit, particular things—the universal cognitions must, of course, be distinct from the particular, and must have their appropriate objects. What, then, are these objects? What is the nature and manner of their existence? What beings are there in rerum naturâ corresponding to the universal cognitions—to such cognitions as are expressed by the words "man," or "animal," or "tree"? Whatever difficulties the right interpretation of the Platonic doctrine might have given rise to, considerable excitement would have been avoided by its adoption, because by this inevitable question, which the other interpretation would have obviated, the philosophers of a later day, and in particular the schoolmen, were driven nearly frantic with vexation and despair.
Realism.25. Those who, to their misunderstanding of Plato, united a reverence for his name, and for what they conceived to be his opinion; maintained that the universals—such genera and species as man, animal, and tree—had an actual existence in nature, distinct, of course, from all particular men, animals, or trees. They could not do otherwise; for their master declares that the universal, both in knowledge and in existence, is more real than the particular—meaning thereby that it is more real as an element, but not certainly as a kind, either of cognition or of existence. His followers, however, who mistook his analysis, and at the same time placed implicit reliance on his word, were bound, in consistency, to contend for the independent and concrete existence of universal things. Whether these genera and species were corporeal or incorporeal, they were somewhat at a loss to determine; but that they were real they entertained no manner of doubt. And, accordingly, the doctrine known in the history of philosophy under the name of Realism, was enthroned in the schools, and being supported by the supposed authority of Plato, and in harmony with certain theological tenets then dominant, it kept its ascendancy for a time.
Realism is superseded by Conceptualism.26. Realism, even in its most extravagant form, is not one whit more erroneous than the two doctrines which supplanted it. First came conceptualism. The actual independent existence of genera and species was too ridiculous and unintelligible an hypothesis to find favour with those who deferred more to reason than to authority. They accordingly surrendered universals considered as independent entities; and now, inasmuch as the old sources of our universal cognitions were thus extinguished with the extinction of the realities from which they had been supposed to proceed, these philosophers, in order to account for them, were thrown upon a new hypothesis, which was this: they held that all existences are particular, and also, that all our knowledge is, in the first instance, particular; that we start from particular cognitions; but that the mind, by a process of abstraction and generalisation, which consists in attending to the resemblances of things, leaving out of view their differences, subsequently constructs conceptions, or general notions, or universal cognition; which, however, are mere entia rationis, and have no existence out of the intelligence which fabricates them. These genera and species were held to have an ideal, though not a real, existence, and to be the objects which the mind contemplates when it employs such words as man, tree, or triangle. This doctrine is called Conceptualism.
Conceptualism is destroyed by Nominalism.27. The question very soon arose, Have these universal cognitions or general conceptions any existence even within the intelligence which is said to fabricate them? It is obvious that there is no object in nature corresponding to the genus animal, or to the species man, or to the genus figure, or to the species triangle. But is there any object in thought corresponding to these genera and species? There certainly is not. These general terms are mere words, mere sounds, which have no objects corresponding to them either within the mind or out of it,—either in thought or in reality. Their ideal is quite as baseless and as fabulous as their real existence. So says Nominalism, speaking a truth which, when understood, is seen to be unquestionable.
Evasion by which conceptualism endeavours to recover her ground, and to conciliate nominalism. Its failure.28. The grounds of nominalism, however, are not very well understood, even by the nominalists themselves; and hence conceptualism is supposed to recover her position, or at least to effect a compromise with her adversary, by affirming that the object which the mind contemplates when it employs a general term is some resemblance, some point or points of similarity, which it observes among a number of particular things, and that to this resemblance it gives a name expressive of the genus to which the things in question belong. This explanation—which, although it is as old as the earliest defence of conceptualism, and a traditional commonplace in every logical compendium, has been paraded, in recent times, by Dr Brown, almost as if it were a novelty of his own discovery—betrays a total misconception of the point really at issue. Conceptualism cannot be permitted to take any advantage from this shallow evasion, in which a doctrine is advanced altogether inconsistent with the principle from which she starts. It is to be remembered that this scheme divides our cognitions not into elements of cognition, but into cognitions—not into distinct factors, but into distinct kinds, of knowledge—a particular kind, called sometimes intuitions; and a universal, or general kind, called usually conceptions. This is proved by the consideration that in the estimation of conceptualism our particular cognitions precede the formation of our general conceptions, which they could not do unless they were distinct and completed. The question, therefore, is not, Does the mind know or think of the universal along with the particular—the genus along with the singulars which compose it—the resemblance of things along with the things in which the resemblance subsists? In a word, the question is not, Is the conception always and only entertained along with the intuitions? Conceptualism cannot clear herself by raising that question, and answering it in the affirmative; for such an answer would be equivalent to the admission that the general cognitions (the conceptions) are not a kind of cognition, are not themselves cognitions, but are mere elements of cognition. But conceptualism is debarred from that plea by the position which she has taken up at the outset. She is bound to show—if she would make good her scheme—that just as the particular cognitions stand distinct from the general cognitions, so the latter stand distinct from the former. The question, therefore, with which conceptualism has to deal is this: does the mind know or think of the universal without thinking of the particular—of the genus, without taking into account any of the singulars which compose it—of the resemblance among things, without looking, either really or ideally, to the things to which the resemblance belongs? In a word, can the conceptions be objects of the mind without the intuitions,—just as, according to conceptualism, the intuitions can be objects of the mind without the conceptions? That is the only question for conceptualism to consider, and to answer in the affirmative, if she can. But it is obvious that it can be answered only in the negative: the mind cannot have any conception of a genus or a species without taking into account some of the particular things which they include. It cannot think of the resemblance of things without thinking of the resembling things. And hence, all genera and all species, and everything which is said to be the object of the mind when it entertains a general conception, are mere words—sounds to which no meaning can be attached, when looked at irrespective of the particulars to which they refer. Thus conceptualism is destroyed. It perishes in consequence of the principle from which it starts— the division, namely, of our cognitions into kinds, and not into elements. The dilemma to which it is reduced is this: it must either stand to that distinction, or it must desert it. If conceptualism stands to the distinction, and maintains that the general conceptions are distinct cognitions—are ideas cognisable by themselves, and independently of the particular cognitions—in that case the general conceptions evaporate in mere words; for it is certain that the mind cannot think of any genus without thinking of one or more of the particulars which rank under it. Thus nominalism is triumphant. Again, if conceptualism deserts the distinction, and admits that the general conceptions are not cognitions which can be entertained irrespective of the particular cognitions—in that case the general cognitions are reduced from cognitions to mere elements of cognition; for a thought which cannot stand in the mind by itself is not a thought, but only a factor of thought. And thus we have a most incongruous doctrine,—an analysis which divides our cognitions into a kind and into an element. For conceptualism still cleaves to the doctrine of particular cognitions as distinct from the general ones, although, when hard pressed, she seems willing to admit that the latter are not distinct from the former. Here the confusion becomes hopeless. This is as if we were, first, to divide human beings into men and women, and were then to affirm that the men only were human beings, and that the women were mere elements of human beings,—and finally, were to declare that although the men were different from the women, the women were not different from the men. That hank, which illustrates the confused subterfuges of conceptualism, we shall not waste time in unravelling.
Nominalism.29. Nominalism stands victorious; but nominalism, too, is doomed very speedily to fall. The character of nominalism is this: it holds that all existences are particular; and that all cognitions are particular at first, and that they remain for ever particular. There are no such entities, either real or ideal, either in the mind or out of it, as general conceptions: but what is taken for such is always some mere particular cognition, which, by a determination of thought, is allowed to stand as representative of all cognitions and presentations which may resemble it. Thus there is no conception of triangle in general. When the mind thinks of this figure, it always conceives one or more definite and particular triangles, which it accepts as representative of all possible or actual triangles. It thinks of one or of several triangles with a mental reservation, that the varieties of which that figure is susceptible are not exhausted by the specimens of which it is thinking. This is what the mind does, when it supposes itself to be entertaining a general conception—it is, all the while, entertaining one or more which are merely particular. Thus, all our cognitions from first to last are particular—the only difference between those which are particular, and those which are called general, being that the latter are accepted as types or samples of all similar cognitions.
Nominalism is annihilated by Proposition VI.30. The error into which nominalism runs is the assumption that all or any of our cognitions are merely particular. If conceptualism is wrong in holding that any general conception by itself can be an object of the mind, nominalism is equally wrong in holding that any particular cognition by itself can be an object of the mind. Whether anything that exists is merely particular, we do not at present inquire; but it is certain that nothing which is known is merely particular, because all knowledge, as has been proved by this sixth proposition, is of necessity a synthesis of the particular and the universal. Particular cognitions (the cognition, for example, of this pen absolutely by itself) are mere words, just as much as the general ideas expressed by tree, man, animal, and so forth, taken absolutely by themselves, are mere words. Particular cognition; which involve no generality, are not conceivable, any more than general cognitions are conceivable which involve no particularity. For every cognition (see Demonstration VI.) must have an element common to all cognition, and also an element common to all cognition, and also an element peculiar to itself. All knowledge requires two factors, one of which is particular, and the other universal. This consideration effects the complete demolition of nominalism.
The summing up.31. The summing up is this: All the errors inherited by the systems which have been brought under review, originate in the capital oversight which mistakes the elements of cognition for kinds of cognition—the factors of ideas for ideas themselves, the constituents of thought for thoughts. This mistake was equivalent to the hypothesis that some cognitions were particular, and that others were general, or universal. This hypothesis, when carried into ontology, led to the further mistake that there were general existences in nature corresponding to the general cognitions, just as there were held to be particular existences in nature corresponding to the particular cognitions. The doctrine of Realism was proclaimed. Realism was corrected by conceptualism, which maintained that the general existences had no reality in nature, but only an ideality in the mind—that they existed only as abstractions, and were not independent of the intelligence which fabricates them. This scheme fell dead before the assaults of nominalism, which asserted, and with perfect truth, that these general existences had not even an ideality in the mind—that the genera and species had no distinct standing, even as abstractions, and that intelligence was incompetent to create or to contemplate them—in short, that, considered by themselves, they were mere sounds or signs without any sense. And, finally, nominalism, having accomplished this good work, is struck down, and gives up the ghost, under the battery of this sixth proposition. Whether the particular things, the independent existence of which is assumed by nominalism, do really so exist or not, is a point on which the epistemology offers no opinion. But it declares unequivocally that the particular cognitions which are held to correspond to these particular things have no existence in the mind. They have no footing there, even as abstractions. For this sixth proposition has proved that no intelligence is competent to harbour either a particular cognition or a universal cognition—inasmuch as it has proved that every cognition is a synthesis of these two factors, and must present both a particular and a universal constituent. Those, however who may think otherwise, will find satisfaction in the counter-proposition which states, it is believed with perfect fairness, the ordinary opinion.
The abstract and the concrete.32. It is worthy of remark, in conclusion, that the errors of philosophy have continually deepened in proportion as its character and tendencies have waxed more and more psychological. The science of the human mind, as it is called, has done incalculable mischief to the cause of speculative truth. The human mind, as it is called, has done incalculable mischief to the cause of speculative truth. The doctrine of abstraction, in particular, one of its favourite themes, has been the parent of more aberrations than can be told. Our psychologists may guard and explain themselves as they please, but their attribution to man of a faculty called abstraction has been, from first to last, the most disconcerting and misleading hypothesis which either they or their readers could have entertained. We are supposed to have a power of forming abstract conceptions; but it is obvious from the foregoing observations that we have no such power, and that no abstract idea, either particular or general, can be attained by any intelligence. Such conceptions can only be approximated. When the mind attends more to the particular than to the universal element, or, conversely, more to the universal than to the particular element of any cognition, the abstract particular—that is, a thing by itself or the abstract universal—that is, the genus by itself, is approached, but neither of them is ever reached. To reach either of them is impracticable, for this would require the entire suppression of one or other of the factors of all cognition, and such a suppression would not be equivalent to the attainment of the abstract, but to the extinction of knowledge and intelligence. Had our psychologists informed us that the main endowment of reason is a faculty which prevents abstractions from being formed, there would have been much truth in the remark; for intelligence cannot deal with abstractions. Abstract thinking is a contradiction, and has no place in the economy of the intellect. Such thinking is only apparent—never real. All knowledge and all thought are concrete, and deal only with concretions—the concretion of the particular and the universal. What the particular and the universal are, which constitute the concrete reality of cognition, is declared in the next proposition.