Philosophical Works of the Late James Frederick Ferrier/Institutes of Metaphysic (1875)/Introduction

by James Frederick Ferrier

INSTITUTES OF METAPHYSIC.

INTRODUCTION.

The word "Philosophy" as here employed. § 1. Throughout the following work the word "Philosophy," when used by itself, is to be taken as synonymous with speculative science, or "metaphysics," as they are usually termed. What philosophy or metaphysic is, will unfold itself, it is to be hoped, in the sequel. At the outset it is merely necessary to state that, as employed in these pages, the term does not include either natural philosophy or mathematical science, but excludes them expressly from its signification.

The two main requisites of philosophy § 2. A system of philosophy is bound by two main requisitions,—it ought to be true, and it ought to be reasoned. If a system of philosophy is not true it will scarcely be convincing; and if it is not reasoned, a man will be as little satisfied with it as a hungry person would be by having his meat served up to him raw. Truth is the ultimate end of philosophy: hence a system of philosophy ought to be true. The formation of reason (as affected by the discharge of its proper function, which is the ascertainment and concatenation of necessary principles and conclusions) is the proximate end of philosophy; hence a system of philosophy ought to be reasoned. Philosophy, therefore, in its ideal perfection, is a body of reasoned truth.

Which of them is more stringent. § 3. Of these obligations the latter is the more it is more proper that philosophy should be reasoned, than that it should be true; because, while truth may perhaps be unattainable by man, to reason is certainly his province, and within his power. In a case where two objects have to be overtaken, it is more incumbent on us to secure the one to which our faculties are certainly competent, than the other, to which they are perhaps inadequate. Besides, no end can be so important for man as the cultivation of his own reason.

The value of systems determined by a reference to these requisitions § 4. This consideration determines the value of a system of philosophy. A system is of the highest value only when it embraces both of these requisitions—that is, when it is both true and reasoned. But a system which is reasoned without being true, is always of higher value than a system which is true without being reasoned.

An unreasoned system of no value, because at variance with definition of philosophy.§ 5. The latter kind of system is of no value; because philosophy is "the attainment of truth by the way of reason." That is its definition. A system, therefore, which reaches the truth, but not by the way of reason, is not philosophy at all; it has no scientific worth. No man can be called upon to take truth upon trust at the hands of his brother man. But truth not reasoned is truth proposed upon trust. The best that could be said of such a system would be, that it was better than one which was neither true nor reasoned.

Because, though true, it cannot be certain.§ 6. Again,—an unreasoned philosophy, even though true, carries no guarantee of its truth. It may be true, but it cannot be certain; because all certainty depends on rigorous evidence—on strict demonstrative proof. Therefore no certainty can attach to the conclusions of an unreasoned philosophy.

Because of no use as a mental discipline.§ 7. Further,—the truths of science, in so far as science is a means of intellectual culture, are of no importance in themselves, or considered apart from each other. It is only the study and apprehension of their vital and organic connection which is valuable in an educational point of view. But an unreasoned body of philosophy, however true and formal it may be, has no living and essential interdependency of parts on parts; and is, therefore, useless as a discipline of the mind, and valueless for purposes of tuition.

A reasoned system, though not true, has some value as an exercise of reason.§ 8. On the other hand, a system which is reasoned, but not true, has always some value. It creates reason by exercising it. It is employing the proper means to reach truth, although it may fail to reach it. Even though its parts may not be true, yet if each of them be a step leading to the final catastrophe—a link in an unbroken chain on which the ultimate disclosure hinges—and if each of the parts be introduced merely because it is such a step or Link,—in that case it is conceived that the system is not without its use, as affording an invigorating employment to the reasoning powers, and that general satisfaction to the mind which the successful extrication of a plot, whether in science or in romance, never fails to communicate.

It complies more closely with definition of philosophy than the other.§ 9. Such a system, although it falls short of the definition of philosophy just given, comes nearer to it than the other; because to reach truth, but not by the way of reason, is to violate the definition in its very essence; whereas to miss truth, but by the way of reason, is to comply with the fundamental circumstance which it prescribes. If there are other ways of reaching truth than the road of reason, a system which enters on any of these other paths, whatever else it may be, is not a system of philosophy in the proper sense of the word.

But a system should be both true and reasoned.§ 10. But, as has been said, a system of philosophy ought to be both true in all its positions, and also thoroughly reasoned out in a series of strict demonstrations, which, while each is complete and impregnable in itself, shall present, in their combination, only one large demonstration from the beginning to the end of the work. This, indeed, is the only kind of system to which much value can be assigned, or from which any large intellectual profit can be expected. Philosophical books may be read; philosophical lectures may be listened to; but nothing except a strictly-reasoned system can be either taught or learned.

Systems of philosophy are unreasoned hitherto.§ 11. Without offering any opinion as to how far the systems of philosophers may be true, we may affirm with certainty of the whole of them, that they are not reasoned—meaning by "reasoned," an unbroken chain of clear demonstration carried through from their first word to their last. To whatever extent preceding inquirers may have fulfilled one of the requirements of philosophy, they have neglected the more essential and obligatory of the two. And the consequence makes itself heard in a murmur, over the whole world, of deep dissatisfaction, to which the words of the following paragraph may give a faithful, though perhaps feeble, expression.

The present state of philosophy described.§ 12. It is a matter of general complaint that, although we have plenty of disputations and dissertations on philosophy, we have no philosophy itself. This is perfectly true. People write about it, and about it; but no one has grasped with an unflinching hand the very thing itself. The whole philosophical literature of the world is more like an unwieldy commentary on some text which has perished, or rather has never existed, than like what a philosophy itself should be. Our philosophical treatises are no more philosophy than Eustathius is Homer, or than Malone is Shakespeare. They are mere partial and desultory annotations on some text, on which, unfortunately, no man can lay his hands, because it nowhere exists. Hence the embroilment of speculation; hence the dissatisfaction, even the despair, of every inquiring mind which turns its attention to metaphysics. There is not now in existence even the shadow of a tribunal to which any point in litigation can be referred. There is not now in existence a single book which lays down with precision and impartiality the Institutes of all metaphysical opinion, and shows the seeds of all speculative controversies. Hence philosophy is not only a war, but it is a war in which none of the combatants understands the grounds either of his own opinion or of that of his adversary; or sees the roots of the side of the question which he is either attacking or defending. The springs by which these disputatious puppets are worked, lie deep out of their own sight. Every doctrine which is either embraced or rejected, is embraced or rejected blindly, and without any insight into its merits;^[1] and every blow which is struck, whether for truth or error, is struck ignorantly, and at hap-hazard.

First, How is this state to be explained? Secondly, How remedied?§ 13. This description is no exaggeration; it falls short of the truth. It will readily be believed, not perhaps by philosophers themselves, but by all who, without being philosophers, have endeavoured to obtain some acquaintance with the views of those coy custodiers of the truth. But the fact being certain that the condition of philosophy is such as has been described, or worse, the question is, first, How is this state of matters to be accounted for? and, secondly, How is it to be remedied?

§ 14. First, It is to be accounted for generally by that neglect of the chief requisition of philosophy which has been already pointed out—by the First, it is explained (§§ 14-31) by philosophy not being reasoned.circumstance, namely, that philosophy is not reasoned. What is meant by "reasoned" can scarcely be well explained except by the thing itself being done. The body of this work, therefore, is referred to for a practical and detailed exemplification of the term. Any general observations would probably teach the reader nothing but what he already knows, and would only retard, without enlightening his progress. Strict reasoning, like everything else, is best explained, not by being explained, but by being done. The unsatisfactory state, then, of philosophy is to be accounted for generally by the circumstance that philosophy is not reasoned.

No good can be expected so long as philosophy is not reasoned.§ 15. So long as philosophy is not strictly reasoned out from the very beginning, no cessation of controversy can be expected; and not only can no armistice be expected—nothing but misunderstandings can prevail. All the captains are sailing on different tacks, under different orders, and under different winds; and each is railing at the others, because they will not keep the same course with himself. More than that,—there is not a single controversy in philosophy in which the antagonists are playing at the same game. The one man is playing at chess, his adversary is playing against him at billiards; and whenever a victory is achieved, or a defeat sustained, it is always such a victory as a billiard-player might be supposed to gain over a chess-player, or such a defeat as a billiard-player might be supposed to sustain at the hands of a chess-player. These incongruous contests are entirely attributable to the circumstance that philosophy has not been reasoned out from the bottom, and that the disputants have no common question before them on which they have joined issue.

The masks of philosophy.§ 16. As time has advanced, it has constantly sped worse with philosophy, instead of speeding better. This could not be otherwise: to carry forward a pure science, the first principles of which are not thoroughly ascertained, and to carry it forward by other means than that of strict demonstration, is only to add layer after layer to the winding-clothes which already cover up the truth; it is only to add another coating to the infinite litterings of the Augean stable, whose pavement no son of Adam can get down to. Every question in philosophy is the mask of another question; and all these masking and masked questions require to be removed and laid aside, until the ultimate but truly first question has been reached. Then, but not till then, is it possible to decipher and resolve the outside mask, and all those below it, which come before us in the first instance. Instead, however, of removing these successive masks, each succeeding inquirer undertakes to unriddle the outermost one off-hand; and the consequence is, that, so far from resolving it, he puts over it a new coating of paint, and thus leaves the original masks covered over with an additional stratum of concealing visors, by which the first difficulty of attaining to the truth is very considerably augmented. So that now no question comes before the world which does not present many disguises, both natural and artificial, worn one above another; and these false-faces are continually increasing. Does matter exist or not? People actually think that that is, or ever was, a question in philosophy. It is only the outer-case masking a multiplicity of masks, which would all require to be removed before even a glimpse of the true question can be obtained. Another phantom is a mask, or rather a whole toy-shop of masks, which philosophers have been pleased to call the "Absolute;" but what they exactly mean by this name—what it is that is under these trappings,—neither those who run down the incognito, nor those who speak it fair, have ever condescended to inform us. Indeed, it may be affirmed with certainty that no man, for at least two thousand years, has seen the true flesh-and-blood countenance of a single philosophical problem.

§ 17. But how is that to be accounted for? It is to be accounted for by the circumstance, that men have supposed that in philosophy they could advance by going forwards; whereas the truth is, that they Its unsatisfactory state further accounted for. The globe of speculation.can advance only by going, in a manner, backwards. We have tried to get to the end, without having first got to the beginning. Philosophers aimed at the solution of problems, before they had got in hand the elements of their solution. The true state of the case is this: The world of speculation, like the physical globe, is rounded to a sphere, but a sphere of more gigantic compass and more difficult circumnavigation than any which the whole natural universe can show. The primitive articles of all thought, the seminal principles of all reason, the necessary constituents of all knowledge, the keys of all truth, lie, at first, buried under our very feet; but, as yet, we are not privileged to find them. We must first circumnavigate the globe; the whole world of speculation must be traversed by our weary feet. Hence every step forward carries us only farther and farther from the mark. Ere long the elements of truth—all that we are indistinctly looking for—lie in the far-distant rear, while we vainly think that we behold them glimmering on the horizon in our front. We have left them behind us, though we know it not—like decaying camp-fires, like deserted household gods. We still keep moving onwards in a direction which is, at once, wrong and right—wrong, because every step leads us farther and farther from the truth; right, because it is our doom. Every new halt increases our confusion, our consternation, and our dismay. Our hearts may sink within us when we cross the line on the shoreless sea of speculation. At the antipodes the clouds of doubt may settle dark upon our path, and the tempests of despair may cause our fortitude to quail; but, vestigia nulla restrorsum, there is no drawing back for us now. We are embarked on an irrevocable mission; let us press forward then—let us carry through. The intellectual, like the physical world, is a round; and at the moment when the wanderer imagines himself farthest from the house of Humanity, he will find himself at home. He has revolved to the spot of his nativity. He is again surrounded by the old familiar things. But familiarity has been converted into insight; the toils of speculation have made him strong; and the results of speculation have made him wise. He is now privileged to dig up the keys of truth, and to see, and to show to others, the very seeds of reason. He now beholds the great universe of God in the light of a second illumination, which is far purer and far less troubled than the first. Philosophy and common sense are reconciled.

Explanation continued. First principles always come out last.§ 18. The unreasoned and generally unsatisfactory state of philosophy is to be explained by the circumstance, that no inquirer has ever yet got to the beginning; and this, again, is to be accounted for by a fact for which no man is answerable, but which is inherent in the very constitution of things—the circumstance, namely, that things which are first in the order of nature are last in the order of knowledge. This consideration, while it frees all human beings from any degree of blame, serves to explain why the rudiments of philosophy should still be to seek, and why speculation should have exhibited so many elaborate, although unreasoned and ungrounded, productions, while its very alphabet was in arrear. This view may be the better of some illustration.

Illustrations of this from language and grammar.§ 19. First principles of every kind have their influence, and indeed operate largely and powerfully, long before they come to the surface of human thought and are articulately expounded. This is more particularly exemplified in the case of language. The principles of grammar lie at the root of all languages, and preside over their formation. But these principles do their work in the dark. No man's intellect traces their secret operation, while the language is being moulded by their control. Yet the mind of every man, who uses the language with propriety and effect, is imbued with these principles, although he has no knowledge of their existence. Their practice and their influence are felt long before their presence and their existence are perceived. The operative agencies of language are hidden; its growth is imperceptible.

" Crescit occulto, velut arbor, ævo."

Like a tree, unobserved through the solitudes of a thousand years, up grows the mighty stem, and the mighty branches of a magnificent speech. No man saw the seed planted—no eye noticed the infant sprouts—no mortal hand watered the nursling of the grove—no register was kept of the gradual widening of its girth, or of the growing circumference of its shade—till, the deciduous dialects of surrounding barbarians dying out, the unexpected bole stands forth in all its magnitude, carrying aloft in its foliage the poetry, the history, and the philosophy of a heroic people, and dropping for ever over the whole civilized world the fruits of Grecian literature and art.

Illustration continued.§ 20. It is always very late in the day before the seminal principles of speech are detected and explained. Indeed, the language which owed to them both birth and growth may have ceased to be a living tongue before these, the regulating elements of its formation, come to light, and are embodied in written grammars. That most elementary species of instruction which we familiarly term the A, B, C, had no express or articulate existence in the minds, or on the lips, of men, until thousands of years after the invention and employment of language; yet these, the vital constituents of all speech, were there from the beginning.

Illustration from logic.§ 21. Logic is another instance. Men reasoned, generation after generation, long before they knew a single dialectical rule, or had any notion of the construction of the syllogism. The principles of logic were operative in every ratiocination, yet the reasoner was incognisant of their influence until Aristotle anatomised the process, and gave out the law of thought in its more obvious and ordinary workings. Whether Aristotle's rudiments of logic have not an antecedent rudiments—which time may yet bring to light—is a somewhat unsettled problem in speculation.

Illustration from law.§ 22. The same analogy may be observed, to a large extent, in the formation of our civil laws. The laws which hold society together, operate with the force of instincts, and after the manner of vague traditions, long before they are digested into written tables. The written code does not create the law; it merely gives a distinct promulgation, and a higher degree of authority, to certain floating principles which had operated on people's practice antecedently. Laws, in short, exist, and bind society, long before they exist as established, or even as known laws. They have an occult and implied influence, before they obtain a manifest and systematic form. They come early in the order of nature, but late in the order of knowledge; early in the order of action, but late in the order of thinking; early in the order of practice, but late in the order of theory.

Application to philosophy. Here, too, first principles come out last.§ 23. So in regard to philosophy. Its principles, like all other principles—like the elements of every science and of every art—though first in the order of nature, are last in the order of intelligence; only there is this difference between philosophy and all other creations, that its principles, being the earliest birth of time, are therefore among the very last that shall be completely extricated from the masses in which they lie imbedded. They force man's general powers forward into the light; for themselves, they shrink back, and keep aloof from observation. The invariable rule seems to be, that what is earliest in the progress of existence is latest in the progress of discovery—a consideration which might lead us to suppose that all science can advance only by going, in a manner, backwards, or rather by coming round; that the infinite future can alone comprehend or interpret the secrets of the infinite past; and that the apotheosis and final triumph of human reason will be, when, after having traversed the whole cycle of thought, she returns—enriched only with a deeper insight and a clearer consciousness—to be merged in the glorious innocence of her primitive and inspired incunabula.

These principles, though operative in philosophy, are unnoticed and unknown.§ 24. These considerations may serve to explain, to some extent at least, how it happens that the venerable science of metaphysics should, even thus late in the day, be without any articulate exposition of its most elementary principles. The very circumstance that these principles are elementary, both necessitates and explains the lateness of their appearance. But although no such institutional work exists, we are not to suppose that these principles have been powerless, inert, or non-existent; on the contrary, they have been living seeds which have germinated in luxuriant produce in the minds of all great thinkers, from Pythagoras downwards. But it is certain that these elements, though never dormant, have worked for the most part in secresy and in silence. They nestle away out of sight with wonderful pertinacity; hence nobody knows what they are, and nobody can be told what they are, except by their being shown to him, not in a book about philosophy, but in a reasoned work which is itself philosophy. All preliminary explanations of philosophy and its principles must be more or less insufficient. Farther on, however, in this introduction, the more important initial points of philosophy shall be discussed and adjusted. Meanwhile it may be said, in a very few words, that by the principles, the elements, the rudiments of our science, are meant in particular, its one and sole starting-point, its end or object, its business in this world, what it has to do, why it has to do it, and how it does it. These matters, though early in the order of nature, have been late in the order of science. They are the preliminary steps of metaphysic, yet the world has been very slow in finding them out. They are the antediluvian germs, the pre-formations of philosophy, yet they have never been distinctly brought to light. There cannot be a doubt that the mind of Plato was imbued with a profound sense of the object or business of speculative science, that he had a dim intuition of the necessary principles of all reason, and of all existence. But these objects wavered before his view; they refused to form themselves into shape. They rather overshadowed him from behind, with the awe of a brooding and mysterious presence, than rose up in front of him, like a beautiful countenance, whose lineaments were decipherable and clear.

Hence philosophy is nowhere a scheme reasoned throughout.§ 25. Hence philosophy is nowhere a body of intellectual light, a scheme of demonstrated truth, from the beginning to the end. It could not be such, unless philosophy had possessed a distinct perception of what she had to do, and a steady comprehension of the means of doing it. But philosophy could not possess this insight so long as she lived passive and unconscious under the presidency of her own principles, instead of getting the upper hand of them, and thus obtaining an intelligent survey of their whole scope and operation. It was not enough that the elementary truths, the instigating motives of speculative inquiry, should have secretly influenced the formation of philosophy. It was necessary that the secret influence of these truths and motives should be no longer secret but manifest, before philosophy could go forth fully instructed in the causes of her own being—fully cognisant of the purpose for which she had come into the world, and completely armed with the weapons of universal intellectual conquest. But this consummation was not possible, until a comparatively late period in the career of speculation; for that which is first in time is last in science. Hence philosophy has continued to be a body of opinions not reasoned out from the beginning—of opinions which, even when they seem most obvious and most true, are not entitled to the name of intelligible; because, in strict science, nothing, properly speaking, is intelligible unless it is supported by rigorous demonstration, or is a necessary intuition of reason.

The repudiation of necessary truths, a further retarding cause.§ 26. It is further to be observed, in explanation of the deficiencies of philosophy, as shown in its unreasoned character, that from an early period there has been a powerful tendency at work, counteracting the proper efforts of speculative thought. This tendency displays itself in the determination, strongly manifested in certain quarters of late years, but certainly far from being triumphant, to limit the strictly necessary truths of reason to the smallest possible amount—to confine them to the pure mathematics, if not to explode them even here. This is an interesting question; but, like all others, it can be effectually settled, not by general observations, but only by the production of the subjects in dispute—that is, the necessary truths themselves. These will appear in their proper places. Meanwhile all enlarged argument in their defence, and all detailed explanation of their character, must be avoided, as our purpose at present merely is, to point out the retarding causes of speculation, of which the discountenance thrown on the necessary truths of reason has been undoubtedly one, and one of the most influential.

What necessary truth is.§ 27. A few observations, however, may here be offered, in elucidation of what is meant by necessary truth. A necessary truth or law of reason is a truth or law the opposite of which is inconceivable, contradictory, nonsensical, impossible; more shortly, it is a truth, in the fixing of which nature had only one alternative, be it positive or negative. Nature might have fixed that the sun should go round the earth, instead of the earth round the sun; at least we see nothing in that supposition which is contradictory and absurd. Either alternative was equally possible. But nature could not have fixed that two straight lines should, in any circumstances, enclose a space; for this involves a contradiction.

Its criterion is "the law of contradiction." Law explained.§ 28. The logical "law of identity or contradiction," as it is called, is the general expression and criterion of all necessary truth. This law may be best exhibited by carrying it a point higher than is usually done. The law is, that a thing must be what it is. A is A. Suppose that the denier of all necessary truth, and consequently of this proposition, were to say—"No; a thing need not be what it is;" the rejoinder is—" Then your proposition, that a thing need not be what it is, need not be what it is. It may be a statement to directly the opposite effect. Which of the statements, then, is it? Is it a proposition which affirms that a thing need not be what it is, or a proposition declaratory of the very contrary?" "It is a proposition to the former effect," says he. "But how can I know that? If a thing need not be what it is, why need your proposition (which, of course, is something) be what it is? Why may it not be a declaration that a thing is and must be what it is? Give me some guarantee that it is not the latter proposition, or I cannot possibly take it up. I cannot know what it means, for it may have two meanings." The man is speechless. He cannot give me any guarantee. He must take for granted that his proposition, when he proposes it, is and must be what it is. This is all we want. The law of contradiction thus vindicates itself. It cannot be denied without being assented to, for the person who denies it must assume that he is denying it; in other words, he must assume that he is saying what he is saying, and he must admit that the contrary supposition—to wit, that he is saying what he is not saying—involves a contradiction. Thus the law is established. It proves the existence of, at any rate, one necessary truth or law of reason; and if there can be one, why can there not be many? Indeed, the law of contradiction is not so much one special necessary truth, as the generalisation or general form, and exponent of all ideas (and their name is legion) whose opposites involve a mental contradiction. The reader need scarcely be informed that the law of contradiction has no worth or merit of its own. Looked at in itself, it is trivial beyond triviality. It is merely convenient, as an abbreviated expression for the criterion of all necessary truth, the test being—do their opposites involve a mental contradiction?—are their opposites at variance with the law which declares that A is A? If they are—if they are equivalent to a denial that a thing is what it is—then the truths in question are necessary; if they do not involve this contradiction, the truths in question are contingent.

Its criterion is not ready acceptance.§ 29. A short but important observation may here be made, that ready acceptance, instantaneous acquiescence, is not the criterion of necessary truth, although it is very generally regarded as such. Our whole natural thinking, as shall be distinctly proved in the body of this work, consists of a series of judgments, each of which involves a mental contradiction,—in other words, controverts a necessary truth or law of reason. But certainly it is not to be expected either that these judgments should be seen to present contradictions the moment they are uttered, or that the ideas of reason by which they are supplanted should be instantaneously acquiesced in as necessary. All important necessary truths require a much longer time, and a much more sedulous contemplation, to obtain the assent of human intelligence than do the contingent ones.

Return. Philosophy deals with necessary truths—therefore retarded by their proscription.§ 30. From this explanation we return to the subject more immediately in hand, the retarding causes of philosophy. The unfounded assumption that the class of necessary truths, or laws of reason, is either null or of very limited extent—and the effrontery with which their investigation has been proscribed as an illegitimate pursuit,—have contributed more directly than any other cause to arrest the improvement of speculation, and to render it a vague and unreasoned science: for philosophy executes her proper functions only when dealing with necessary truth. This cause, however, is merely an exemplification of the more comprehensive cause already pointed out; for the necessary truths of reason,—being the most primitive elements of philosophy, and the first in the order of things,—are fixed by that very circumstance, as the most obstinate in concealing themselves from view, and as among the latest that shall be brought to light. They have had to contend, however, with an additional impediment which it was proper to notice, a determined resolution to keep them down. But ultimately they will blaze out as lucent as the stars; and, like the stars, it will perhaps be found that they are numberless.

How ill the necessary truths have fared in Germany and in our own country.§ 31. This brief explanation of the backward and ill-conditioned and unmanageable state of philosophy generally, may be concluded by the remark that, both in Germany and in our own country, the necessary truths of reason, even when, in a certain sense, and to a certain extent, admitted, have fared as badly as they possibly could. The criterion of contradiction has been made to apply only to some of them, while another class which could not bear this test were also set down as necessary truths. As if they ought not to have been placed under the contingent category! The criterion of contradiction must be brought rigorously to bear on every necessary truth, otherwise it is unworthy of the name. This misapplication, or lax employment of the criterion, was Kant's doing; and frightful confusion has been the result. In our own country Kant's example has been followed, and to some extent preceded. The necessary truths of reason, when touched upon by our philosophers, have been so uncritically sifted; they have been so mixed up and confounded with the truths of mere contingency,—the two classes being, to a large extent, absolutely placed on a par in point of authority, whereby the distinction between them is rendered void and of no effect,—that the prospects of our philosophy, and the interests of speculative thought, would have been fully more promising had the necessary truths not been meddled with at all.^[2]

Secondly, How is the unsatisfactory state of philosophy to be remedied? Short answer.§ 32. Secondly, How is the present unsatisfactory condition of philosophy to be remedied? The short answer is, that it can be remedied only by a diligent attempt to digest a body of philosophical institutes which shall be both true and reasoned, in the strictest and most thorough-going sense of the word reasoned. No indulgence on the score of well-meant intentions; no excuse on the ground of the incompetency of human reason (for this incompetency is always mere laziness aping the virtue of humility); no allowance on the plea of the difficulty of the undertaking, should be either asked or given. The thing must either be done thoroughly or not at all. Such a work must be no mere contribution to philosophical literature. It must be no mere bringing together of materials for some other hand to arrange. How fond most of the contributors to science are of taking this view of their own labours! Modest people! As if any one would thank a mason who should say to him—"There, sir, are the stones; you can now build your house for yourself!" It must embrace every essential part of philosophy, thoroughly digested, and strictly reasoned out as a harmonious and consistent whole. It must show the exact point where every opinion and every controversy in philosophy takes off from the tap-root or main trunk of the great tree of speculation. The disputants themselves never know where this point is. And thus, in its explanatory matter, it ought to be a complete History, as well as a complete Body, of speculative science. At the very least, this much must be affirmed, that the defective condition of philosophy can be remedied, and a better state of matters brought about, only by a work which shall comply rigorously with both the requisitions laid down in § 2.

A remedial system uniting truth and reason, not impossible.§ 33. Truth will generally take care of itself, if a man looks vigilantly and conscientiously after the interests of the scientific reason. Although the mere semblance of truth—that is, the plausibilities of ordinary thinking, are altogether repugnant to reason, there is a natural affinity between truth and reason which can never fail to bring them into contact when the inquirer knows exactly what he is aiming at, and is determined to reach it. Real truth, therefore, is attainable, on account of its affinity to right reason; and if a man has reason, he surely can use it rightly. Therefore no plea is available against philosophy on the ground that it is an absolute impracticability, or that it is impossible to bring reason into harmony and coincidence with truth.

Single canon for the right use of reason.§ 34. But the right use of reason? That is the question. Here is where the difficulty lies, as most people will think. Many weary rules, for which no man was ever one whit the wiser, have been written on this threadbare theme. The following single canon is quite sufficient for all the purpose of a reasoned philosophy. The canon of all philosophy: "Affirm nothing except what is enforced by reason as a necessary truth—that is, as a truth the supposed reversal of which would involve a contradiction; and deny nothing, unless its affirmation involves a contradiction—that is, contradicts some necessary truth or law of reason." Let this rule be strictly adhered to, and all will go on well in philosophy. Its importance, of course, consists, not in its being stated, but in its being practised.

This system of Institutes claims both truth and demonstration, but rather demonstration than truth.§ 35. With regard to the particular scheme, or Institute of metaphysics, now submitted to the public, and in which these general views are endeavoured to be carried into effect, this, at the outset, may be premised, that, while it cannot disclaim its pretensions to be both true and reasoned, without arrogating to itself a modesty for which it would get no credit,—still it desires to rest its claims to consideration rather on the circumstance that it is a system of demonstration, than on the circumstance that it is a system of truth. If it is truer than other systems, it is so only because it is demonstratively truer; and if they are falser than it, this is only because they are demonstratively falser. If the element of demonstration were subtracted, there cannot be a doubt that many systems would appear to be much truer than this one.

It is a body of necessary truth. Its pretensions stated.§ 36. The general character of this system is, that it is a body of necessary truth. It starts from a single proposition which, it is conceived, is an essential axiom of all reason, and one which cannot be denied without running against a contradiction. The axiom may not be self-evident in an instant; but that as has been remarked, is no criterion. A moderate degree of reflection, coupled with the observations by which the proposition is enforced, may satisfy any one that its nature is such as has been stated. From this single proposition the whole system is deduced in a series of demonstrations, each of which professes to be as strict as any demonstration in Euclid, while the whole of them taken together constitute one great demonstration. If this rigorous necessity is not their character to the very letter,—if there is a single weak point in the system,—if there be any one premiss or any one conclusion which is not as certain as that two and two make four, the whole scheme falls to pieces, and must be given up, root and branch. Everything is perilled on the pretension that the scheme is rigidly demonstrated throughout; for a philosophy is not entitled to exist, unless it can make good this claim.

An objection to its method stated and obviated.§ 37. A trivial objection, which must here be noticed, may be taken to the system on the ground that it has borrowed from mathematics a method which is not applicable to philosophy. The applicability to philosophy of the method of strict demonstration, is a question which can be settled only by the result. If the application is found upon trial to be successful, nothing more need be said; if unsuccessful, no argument recommending its propriety can be of any avail, and no argument discountenancing its adoption can be of any use. The case is one which must decide itself; and the point is a point which calls for no argument in the abstract. As for the charge that philosophy has borrowed the method of mathematics, it would be truer to say that mathematics, being a less profound science, and therefore susceptible of a much earlier maturity, have stolen, by anticipation, the proper method of philosophy. It is rather too much that one narrow section of human thought should be allowed to monopolise the whole, and only, method of universal truth.

The polemical character of this system.§ 38. The student will find that the system here submitted to his attention is of a very polemical character—more so, he may imagine, than is consistent with the nature of a scheme which looks only to truth, and to its own exhibition of it, troubling itself with no other considerations. This point shall now obtain a full elucidation; for the discussion enables us to explain exactly the object or business of philosophy.

Why philosophy must be polemical. She exists only to correct the inadvertencies of ordinary thinking.§ 39. This system is in the highest degree polemical; and why? Because philosophy exists only to correct the inadvertencies of man's ordinary thinking. She has no other mission to fulfil; no other object to overtake; no other business to do. If man naturally thinks aright, he need not be taught to think aright. If he is already, and without an effort, in possession of the truth, he does not require to be put in possession of it. The occupation of philosophy is gone: her office is superfluous: there is nothing for her to put hand to. Therefore philosophy assumes, and must assume, that man does not naturally think aright, but must be taught to do so; that truth does not come to him spontaneously, but must be brought to him by his own exertions. But if man does not naturally think aright, he must think, we shall not say wrongly—(for that implies malice prepense—but inadvertently; and if truth be not his inheritance by nature,—if he has to work for it, as he must for all his other bread,—then the native occupant of his mind, his birthright succession, must be, we shall not say falsehood—(for that, too, implies malice prepense)—but it must be error. The original dowry, then, of universal man is inadvertency and error. This assumption is the ground and only justification of the existence of philosophy.

This might be abundantly proved by the testimony of philosophers.§ 40. If authority were of any avail in matters of pure speculation, abundant evidence, though not, indeed, of the clearest or most unfaltering character (for what is. clear or unfaltering in philosophy?) might be adduced in confirmation of what is here advanced as the proper and sole object of philosophy. But it will be time enough to call these witnesses into court when our statement is denied, or when it has been shown that philosophy has, or can have, any other end in view than the rectification of the inadvertencies of man's spontaneous and ordinary thinking.^[3]

The object (or business to do) of philosophy renders her essentially polemical.§ 41. This circumstance—namely, that philosophy exists only to put right the oversights of common thinking—renders her polemical, not by choice, but by necessity. She would gladly avoid all faultfinding; but she cannot help herself. She is controversial as the very tenure and vindication of her existence; for how can she correct the slips of common opinion, the oversights of natural thinking, except by controverting them?

§ 42. To obviate the charge of disrespect which The charge of disrespect which might be supposed to attach to philosophy on account of her polemical character, obviatedmight otherwise be brought against the philosopher for holding very cheap the spontaneous judgments of mankind, it may be proper to mention that it is his own natural modes of thinking which he finds fault with, much more than it is theirs. He is dealing directly only with himself. He is directly correcting only his own customary oversights. It is only indirectly, and on the presumption that other people are implicated in the same transgressions,—faults, however, which he takes home more especially to himself, because he has no direct knowledge of theme except within his own bosom,—that he challenges, and ventures to infer that he is rectifying their inadvertent thinking as well as his own. Let this be distinctly understood once for all. The philosopher labours just as much as other people do under all the infirmities incident to popular opinion. He is not one whit more exempt from the failings which he points out, and endeavours to put right, than any of his neighbours are. His quarrel is not with them; it is with himself—a subject which he is not only entitled, but which he is bound to reform and coerce as rigorously as he can.

This system also adverse to psychology—and why.§ 43. But further, it will be observed that this system is antagonistic, not only to natural thinking, but, moreover, to many a point of psychological doctrine. This, too, is inevitable. Psychology, or "the science of the human mind," instead of attempting to correct, does all in her power to ratify, the inadvertent deliverances of ordinary thought,—to prove them to be right. Hence psychology must, of necessity, come in for a share of the castigation which is doled out and directed upon common and natural opinion. It would be well if this could be avoided; but it cannot. Philosophy must either forego her existence, or carry on her operations corrective of ordinary thinking, and subversive of psychological science. It is, indeed, only by accident that philosophy is inimical to psychology: it is because psychology is the abettor and accomplice of common opinion after the act; but in reference to natural thinking, she is essentially controversial. Philosophy, however, is bound to deal much more rigorously and sternly with the doctrines of psychology than with the spontaneous judgments of unthinking man, because while these in themselves are mere oversights or inadvertencies, psychology converts them into downright falsities by stamping them with the countersign or imprimatur of a specious, though spurious, science. In the occasional cases, moreover, in which psychology instead of ratifying, endeavours to rectify the inadvertencies of popular thinking, it shall be shown, in the course of this work, that, so far from being successful, she only makes matters worse, by complicating the original error with a new contradiction, and sometimes with several new ones, of her own creation.

These remarks may be sufficient to explain, and also to justify, the polemical character of this work. It carries on a warfare by compulsion, not assuredly by choice. So soon as man is born with true and correct notions about himself and all other things, philosophy will take her departure from the world, for she will be no longer needed.

What philosophy has to do, again distinctly stated.§ 44. To prevent, then, any mistake as to the object, or purpose, or business of philosophy, let it be again distinctly announced that the object of philosophy is the correction of the inadvertencies of ordinary thinking; and as these inadvertencies are generally confirmed, and never corrected, by psychology, and are thus converted from oversights into something worse, it is further the business of philosophy to refute psychology. This is what philosophy has to do.

Its positive object still more distinctly stated. Definition of metaphysics.§ 45. But this, though an essential, is only the negative part of the business of philosophy. In rectifying the inadvertencies of popular thought, and in subverting their abetment by psychology, philosophy must, of course, substitute something in their place. Yes; and that something is truth—so that the object, the business, the design, the purpose of philosophy, fully stated, is this, which may be laid down as the Definition of Metaphysic: "Metaphysic is the substitution of true ideas—that is, of necessary truths of reason—in the place of the oversights of popular opinion and the errors of psychological science." That seems a plain enough statement, and it may serve as an answer to a question by which many people have professed themselves puzzled,—What are metaphysics? This definition is only a more special and explicit re-statement of the definition of philosophy given in § 5. It should be remarked that at every stage of its progress, and ever as its course becomes clearer, the definition of philosophy admits of being laid down in terms more and more definite. Its opening definition is always of necessity the least definite; and the definition now given is not the most definite that the subject admits of. Indeed, it cannot be understood, except in a general way, until the true ideas—the necessary truths of reason, here referred to—have been exhibited; but that can be done only in the Institutes themselves. The present definition, however, may serve to let people know precisely what philosophy or metaphysic proposes—what the instigating motives of speculative inquiry are;—and it may also serve to clear people's heads of the confusing notion that metaphysic is, in some way or other, vaguely convertible with what is called "the science of the human mind," and has got for its object,—nobody knows what,—some hopeless inquiry about "faculties," and all that sort of rubbish. This must all come down, when philosophy, who has hitherto been going about like an operative out of employment, seeking work and finding none, is put in a fair way of obtaining a livelihood by having discovered her proper vocation, and got something definite to do.

Why philosophy undertakes this object.§ 46. The reason why philosophy takes in hand the work specified in the definition above, scarcely requires to be insisted on, or even pointed out. No reason need be given why truth should be made to take the place of error in the mind of man, except the reason that the comer-in is truth, and the goer-out is error.

How philosophy goes to work. Adherence to canon—proposition and counter-proposition.§ 47. What the object of philosophy is having been explained, and why this is her object having been stated, it now remains to be shown how philosophy, or, at least, how this philosophy, goes to work in compassing her end. Adhering rigorously to the canon laid down in § 34, philosophy convicts the natural opinions of man of being contradictory. It would, indeed, be in the highest degree presumptuous in philosophy to challenge the ordinary opinion of mankind if they were not contradictory, because, in that case, they would probably, or at all events they might possibly, be correct, and philosophy, at the best, would be merely supplanting one set of probabilities by another set. Not only, therefore, must philosophy in consistency with her own canon, convict natural thinking of being contradictory, but her procedure would be arrogant and irrational in the extreme, unless she were able to pronounce this sentence, doing so under the authority of the necessary Reason itself. Each deliverance, then, of ordinary thinking contradicts some necessary law or truth of all reason. This is shown, not by any roundabout argument, but by directly confronting the natural opinions of man with the necessary truths or laws which they contradict. This consideration determines the following arrangement The necessary truths or laws of all reason are laid down in a series of distinct propositions; and facing each of these propositions is laid down in a counter-proposition, the contradictory inadvertency of ordinary opinion, so that we can always play them off against each other, and know exactly what we are dealing with, what we are contending for, and what we are contending against. It will always be found that the psychological doctrine on any particular point coincides, either wholly or partially (generally wholly, or very nearly so), with the contradictory inadvertency of ordinary thought, and therefore the counter-propositions will be seen to represent faithfully the erroneous teachings of psychology, as well as the inadvertent decisions of common opinion. Proposition and counter-proposition are the two hinges of the system.

Further explanations as to how philosophy goes to work.§ 48. The propositions and their demonstrations constitute the text or staple of the book. These are the "Institutes of Metaphysic." The first proposition only is laid down as axiomatic without any demonstration. Each proposition is followed by a series of observations and explanations, which are designed to clear up any obscurities and to remove any difficulties which may be felt to attach to the main propositions of the work, whether in thought or in expression, and to supply such critical and historical notices as may be deemed expedient. These comments are, of course, of a less rigorous character than the Institutes themselves. They are probably not so complete as they might be; but, in general, it will be found that they indicate with sufficient precision the points where the larger and often where the lesser controversies of philosophy take off from the tap-root or main stem. The counter-propositions could not always, or indeed often, be placed in close juxtaposition with the propositions, for various good reasons. They take their places among the observations and explanations, and by them they are cleared up, in so far as any elucidation is thought necessary. It will be observed that the counter-propositions, occupying at each point an antagonist position to the propositions, form a very consistent scheme of apparent truth. The objection to it is, that it contradicts a necessary truth or principle of reason at every point. But if any one thinks otherwise, he has here made out to his hand a perfectly coherent scheme of psychological doctrine and of common opinion. He can embrace it if he likes, and abjure the true metaphysic altogether. He will find that truth and error are carried out simultaneously on parallel lines. He can make his choice between them.

Advantages of this method.§ 49. From this method of procedure, it is conceived that the following advantage will accrue. The reader will perceive, at each stage of his progress, which doctrine is right and which wrong. He will thoroughly understand each, through its contrast with the other. He will remark, not only what he is recommended to accept, but what he is recommended to give up. The incompatibility of the two opinions—the speculative and the common—will be obvious; and it will be seen that the conciliation of ordinary thinking, or "common sense," as it is sometimes rather abusively called, and philosophy, can be very well effected by the former giving in her submission to the decisions of the compulsory reason.

Disadvantages of not contrasting distinctly the true and the false.§ 50. A system which, on any subject, and more particularly on a subject like this, contents itself with merely laying down the true or correct doctrine on any point, does only half its work, and that half very imperfectly; because the wrong opinion, not being distinctly brought forward and expressly controverted, still retains possession of the student's mind, occupying it all the more inveterately, because it occupies it obscurely. Indeed, in such a case the two positions, not being contrasted, are not seen to be incompatible. They still coexist, but in such a way that neither can be said properly to exist, or to have a clear and vigorous standing in the mind. The wrong opinion being combated, but only in a vague and very inexplicit manner, loses the force and vigour of its previous authority; while the right opinion, being clouded by the obscure presence of the wrong one, and oppressed by its secret efforts to regain its former ascendancy, is enfeebled where it shines, and shorn of its brightest and most fructifying rays. This obscure and indefinite conflict between right and wrong opinion, between speculative and ordinary thinking, is the cause and origin of all scepticism, or philosophical indecision.

General unintelligibility of systems is due to their neglect to exhibit this contrast.§ 51. The neglect, moreover, to lay down in distinct terms this opposition between the right and the wrong, has been the occasion of the generally unintelligible character of metaphysics, and serves to account for nearly all their obscurities. Even a slight acquaintance with the history of philosophy may satisfy any one that the neglect to place the truths to be learned in prominent and conspicuous contrast with the errors to be relinquished, has been the cause, for the most part, of the unintelligibility of all previous speculations. Why are the Platonic "ideas" generally unintelligible? Simply because Plato has not told us distinctly, and because no one, knows exactly, what natural opinion this doctrine was advanced to controvert. Why is the unica substantia of Spinoza, still without a meaning? For precisely the same reason. We do not exactly know what popular delusion it stands opposed to. Why are the "monads" of Leibnitz, and the "pre-established harmony" of the same philosopher, still without a key, or provided only with one which will not fit the wards of the lock? Just because he has not shown us distinctly what inadvertencies of common thought these doctrines were designed to take the place of. Why is Hegel impenetrable, almost throughout, as a mountain of adamant? Because he has nowhere set before us and explained the prevalent errors which, for aught we know to the contrary, he may, like a gigantic boa-constrictor, be crushing within his folds. He may be breaking every bone in their body in his stringent circumvolutions, but we do not know that; for he treats us to no observations bearing directly, or even bearing remotely, on the natural opinions which his doctrines are, no doubt, in some obscure and unexplained fashion of their own, intended to subvert. This negligence, or omission, confirms the truth of what has been pointed out as the retarding cause of philosophy, namely, a loose grasp, an indistinct perception, of its leading principles, of its very alphabet—an imperfect apprehension of the work it had to do, of the object it proposed to overtake; for surely, if these speculators had known what that work or object was, they would have said what it was, and moreover they would have done it. But on this topic they are either silent, or speak with such uncertain utterance that they might as well have been dumb. Hence,—men of the highest genius though they were, and

"Serene creators of immortal things,"

they have left behind them legacies, the value of which is greatly impaired by their frequent incomprehensibility, which, again, is attributable almost entirely, to the circumstance that they took, in hand only one-half of their proper work They may have given us truths—they no doubt did so; but truths are unintelligible, or nearly so, unless when contrasted with their opposing errors, and these they kept studiously out of view. Hence, to speak in a general way of these, and of many other philosophical writers, they are not to be understood; or if understood, it is not by any light which they themselves supply, but by a lamp which the reader must find and trim for himself, and bring with him to the research. The only light of every truth is its contrasting error; and, therefore, in the contemplation and exhibition of truth, a philosopher should take especial care not to keep himself too loftily aloof from the contemplation and exhibition of error, as these proud spirits, Plato, Spinoza, Leibnitz, and Hegel, most undoubtedly did, much to the detriment of their own profound disquisitions, and to the loss of mankind, who, had their method been different, might have profited more largely by their wisdom.

This system contrasts distinctly the true and the false.§ 52. This system, therefore, attempts to pursue a different and less lofty course. In endeavouring to make truth understood, it relies chiefly on the illumination which truth may receive from being placed in strong and clear contrast with error. It sets off the true by the aid of the opposing false. This consideration has prompted the somewhat novel method of "proposition" and "counter-proposition "—a method which seems to be the only satisfactory mode of procedure in dealing with purely speculative matters, as carrying with it certain decided advantages in the way of general intelligibility, and of putting an end to all scepticism, vacillation, or indecision of opinion on philosophical topics; while the other method, which merely plans the exhibition of truth, and not the counter-exhibition of error, fails in all these important particulars.

§ 53. This institute of metaphysic is divided into The three sections of this institute. Arrangement explained and proved to be essential, (§§ 54-62)three main sections—an arrangement which will require some explanation, showing not only its general and convenient, but its essential and unarbitrary character. In philosophy, nothing is left to the discretion of an individual thinker. His whole arrangement, every step which he takes, must be necessitated, not chosen. It must be prescribed and enforced by the object itself, not by his way of viewing it. Accordingly, the arrangement now alluded to is one which chooses and fixes itself as the only possible arrangement in its leading features, whatever modifications its details may undergo at the hands of subsequent inquirers. But this matter will require a good deal of elucidation, which is supplied in the following § §, 54-62, in which the general sections of our subject, and their order, are laid out.

The section called ontology naturally comes first,—but is truly last in order§ 54. From what has been already said about the principles or first elements of philosophy being the last to show themselves, it is obvious that this is a science which naturally comes to us end foremost. The difficulty is, so to turn round the whole huge machinery as to get its beginning towards us. But what is the end which comes to us first, but which we must so turn round as to make it revolve away from us, and come to us last? It is this—announced in the form of a question—What is truth? This is in itself the last or ultimate; but to us it is always the first or proximate question of philosophy. The immediate answer which moves away this question, and so causes the whole structure to turn on its pivot, is this: Truth is—what is. Whatever absolutely is, is true. There can be no doubt about that. This answer instantly raises the question, But what is? That question can, at present, receive no answer except an evasive one. Its turn has not yet come. It must "bide its time.'? It must be turned away from us, or, like a mask, it must be taken off and laid aside. But its announcement proclaims and fixes one great section of philosophy—the division which has for its object the problem, what is true being—absolute existence? This branch of the science is usually and rightly denominated Ontology (λόγος τῶν ὄντων—the science of that which truly is).

It must be made to revolve away from us, in order to bring round the epistemology, which, though it naturally comes last, is truly first in order.§ 66. The preliminary business of philosophy is, as has been said, so to turn round her whole array of questions as to make the first last, and the last first; and this she can accomplish only by finding such answers as may serve to send the questions away from her without, in any degree, resolving them. Their solution can commence only when the whole revolution is effected, and when that which naturally comes last has been made to come first, and conversely; because the questions which are made to come first contain all the elements necessary to the solution of those which naturally come first; and, therefore, the latter cannot be entertained until after the former have been disposed of. Each answer, as it wards off its own question, must always be of such a character as to bring round a new question into view. This is exemplified in the case of the answer which wards off the general problem of ontology. The question, in its shortest form, is, What is? And the parrying answer is—What is, is what is known. But that answer, while it sends away from us, in the mean time, the ontological question, instantly brings before us a new question, or rather new section of questions—this: But what is known, and what is knowing? This movement determines an-other whole section of philosophy; indeed, it completes the revolution, or at least we have now merely to find out the truly first question in regard to knowing and the known, to have before us the true beginning, the really proximate question of philosophy. This division explores and explains the laws both of knowing and of the known—in other words, the conditions of the conceivable; laying out the necessary laws, as the laws of all knowing, and all thinking, and the contingent laws as the laws of our knowing and of our thinking. This section of the science is properly termed the epistemology—the doctrine or theory of knowing, just as ontology is the doctrine or theory of being (λόγος τῆς ἐπιστήμης—the science of true knowing). It answers the general question, "What is knowing and the known?"—or more shortly, "What is knowledge?" The ontology cannot be approached, or even looked at, until this division has been thoroughly explicated.

Epistemology and ontology the two main divisions of philosophy.§ 56. These, then, are the two main branches of our science. It is dear that we cannot declare what is—in other words, cannot get a footing on ontology until we have ascertained what is known—in other words, until we have exhausted all the details of a thorough and systematic epistemology. It may be doubtful whether we can get a footing on ontology even then. But, at any rate, we cannot pass to the problem of absolute existence, except through the portals of the solution to the problem of knowledge. Because we are scarcely in a position to say what is, unless we have at least attempted to know what is; and we are certainly not in a position to know what is, until we have thoroughly examined and resolved the question—What is the meaning of to know? What is knowledge? What is knowing and the known? Until these questions be answered, it is vain and futile to say that absolute existence is that which is known.

The epistemology does of itself afford no entrance to ontology. Why not?§ 57. But even after the questions of the epistemology have been resolved—even after all the laws of knowledge have been explored and laid out—are we in a whit better position to take up and answer the question—What is? We are in a somewhat better position; but our approach to ontology is still fenced and obstructed by a most baffling consideration, which is this:

Because "Absolute Existence" may be that which we are ignorant of.§ 58. Absolute Being may be, very possibly, that which we are ignorant of. Our ignorance is excessive—it is far more extensive than our knowledge. This is unquestionable. After we have fixed, then, the meaning, the conditions, the limits, the object, and the capacities of knowledge, it still seems quite possible, indeed highly probable, that absolute existence may escape us, by throwing itself under the cover, or within the pale, of our ignorance. We may be altogether ignorant of what is, and may thus be unable to predicate anything at all about it. This is a most confounding obstacle to our advance. It has indeed, as yet, brought every inquirer to the dust, and thrown back every foot that has attempted to scale the hitherto unbreached and apparently impregnable fastnesses of ontology. Before commencing our operations, therefore, it will be prudent and necessary to hold a council of war.

This consideration necessitates a new section of philosophy called the agnoiology. Its business.§ 59. This difficulty is to be surmounted, not by denying or blinking our ignorance, but by facing it; and the only way of facing it, is by instituting an inquiry into its nature. We must examine and fix what ignorance is—what we are, and can be, ignorant of. And thus we are thrown upon an entirely new research, constituting an intermediate section of philosophy which we term the Agnoiology, or theory of ignorance (λόγος τῆς ἀγνοίας)—the theory of true ignorance). The result of this research is given out in its proper place in these Institutes.

Now we can settle the problem of ontology—and how.§ 60. Now our course is pretty dear, and our way made straight before us. The epistemology has fixed what alone any intelligence can know. The agnoiology has fixed what alone any intelligence can be ignorant of—consequently Absolute Existence being either that which we know, or that which we are ignorant of (and it shall be demonstrated that there is no other alternative), it must respond either to the result of the epistemology, or to the result of the agnoiology. But if the result of the epistemology, and the result of the agnoiology are coincident (and their coincidence shall be demonstrated), then it matters not whether Absolute Being be that which we know, or that which we are ignorant of; we can demonstratively fix its character all the same; we can screw it down, whichever of them it be; we can attach to it a predicate, which is all that is wanted, and which is all that philosophy promises as her ultimate bestowal on mankind. All this shall be clearly shown in the ontology—the conclusion of which need not now be forestalled. This only may be added, that in solving the problem—What is? we shall have resolved definitively the ultimate or last question of all philosophy—that query which is always the first to make its appearance, but which requires to be staved off and off, until we have got in hand all the elements of its solution—What is Truth?

Recapitulation of the three sections.
1. Epistemology. 2. Agnoiology. 3. Ontology. This arrangement not arbitrary, but necessary.§ 61. This paragraph need merely recapitulate that the three divisions of philosophy, as laid down in three Institutes, are, first, The Epistemology, or theory of knowledge; secondly, The Agnoiology, or theory of ignorance; and, thirdly, The Ontology, or theory of being; and that this arrangement is not dictated by the choice or preference of any individual thinker, but by the very necessity of the case, which will not admit of the problems of philosophy being taken up in any other order.

The necessity of keeping these divisions perfectly distinct.§ 62. The confusion which arises when any other division than that here laid down is attempted, is unspeakable—the dead lock which ensues is inextricable. It is not going too far to affirm that the whole embroilment of philosophy is due to the practice usually indulged in, and never systematically abstained from, of taking in hand the question of ontology, and of predicating something about Being before the question of epistemology—that is, the question as to knowledge and its laws—has been thoroughly worked out and cleared. This, however, is a mere consequence or accompaniment of the great retarding cause of philosophy already pointed out—of the attempt, namely, to get to the end, before we have got to the beginning. Numerous examples of the fatal effects of this preposterous (in the exact sense of that word) procedure, will come under our notice in the course of this work. It should, therefore, be especially borne in mind, that the epistemology excludes most rigorously from its consideration, every opinion, and every question as to "being" or existence. It deals only with knowing and the known.

The natural oversights of thought are rectified in these three sections.§ 63. In connection with these remarks on the what (or business, §§ 39-45), on the why (or reason, § 46), and on the how (or method, §§ 47-52), of philosophy in general; and on the character and details of these Institutes in particular (§§ 53-62), an observation, entitled to a separate paragraph, remains to be made, which is this, that the correction of the inadvertencies of our natural thinking will be seen to be carried on throughout each of the sections of the system. Our natural oversights in regard to knowing and the known, are taken up and put right in the epistemology; our natural oversights in regard to ignorance are taken up and put right in the agnoiology; and our natural oversights in regard to being are taken up and put right in the ontology.

§ 64. Another consideration, also, of some Remarks obviating any objections to the system, on the ground that its conclusions cannot at all times be present to the mind.importance, must here be noticed, as tending to obviate any disappointment which may arise in the reader's mind from finding that the results and conclusions reached in this system are not at all times—we not, indeed, at any time during his ordinary moods, and these must occupy about ninety-nine parts of his existence—present to his conviction with the force and the vivacity which he might think desirable if they were true. But this is neither desirable nor necessary. Their perpetual presence would convert him from an agreeable human being into a nuisance, both to himself and others. It is the wont species of pedantry to entertain and parade the conclusions of science, either to ourselves or others, when engaged in the common business and intercourse of life; just as it is the wont species of prudence to embrace the plausibilities of common opinion, the maxims of the salons and of the thoroughfares, when ministering at the altars of science. The two things should be kept everlastingly apart. All that is necessary is, that the reader should know that what is laid before him is the truth;—it is not necessary that he should feel it to be so. The knowledge of it is all in all; the want of feeling about it is of no moment whatever, and ought not to be listened to for an instant as any argument against its certainty. The interests of Truth would indeed be in a poor way, and our conception of her character not very exalted, were we to allow these interests to suffer from our inability to keep our faculties, at all times, upon a level with her astonishing revelations. To make truth contingent on the ordinary susceptibilities of man, would be to reduce her to a most deplorable dependency. To be distrustful of her, because our minds are not, at all times, or often, equal "to the height of her great argument," is no unfrequent practice; but it is carrying scepticism a little too far. It is probable that many philosophers, and more people than they, have actually regarded truth as untrue, because man's faculties are incapable of grasping her deepest disclosures, except at rare intervals, and when on their widest stretch. But why can we not be satisfied in metaphysics, as we are in every other science, with knowing the demonstrated conclusions without thinking it necessary, at every moment, to realise them, as it is called? In philosophy alone, people are very prone to set down their own incompetency to realise the truth, to bring it home to their homely convictions, as, in a manner, fatal to her cause. But this incompetency is a mere accident, it is entitled to no consideration; and it is not held, by these very people, to prejudice the truth in any other science. Why should it, then, in metaphysics? People pay a very poor compliment not only to the truth, but also to the higher reason with which they have been endowed, when they suppose that the latter is subject to the jurisdiction of their own vulgar opinions, that it is at all affected by the cavils of their own ordinary judgment, or that it can be turned out of its inflexible orbit by any collision with those earth-born and evanescent meteors of their own customary thinking, which are perpetually crossing and obscuring, but certainly never deflecting, its colossal transit through the skies.

Continuation of these remarks§ 65. The following is a case in point. The earth and "all that it inherit" are whirling through space with a velocity which it requires rather large numbers to compute. We know that to be a fact; but we cannot feel it;—indeed, we feel the very contrary. In spite of science, we believe ourselves, at least when we are lying still, to be imperturbably at rest; and this conviction is equally shared in by the profoundest astronomer reclining on his couch of down, and by the most unscientific peasant stretched upon his pallet of straw. An astronomer is not always an astronomer. When he comes down from his observatory, he leaves his computations and his demonstrations behind him. He has done with them for, at least, a while. He thinks, and feels, and speaks just like other people; he takes the same view of the heavens and the earth that ordinary mortals do. His hat is bigger than the sun. So of the metaphysician. He is not always a metaphysician. In common life, he can think, and feel and speak, it is to be hoped, just like his neighbours. He can look at things just as they look at them, otherwise they would have excellent reasons for regarding (as they are too apt to do without any such good provocation) his very name as an abomination. It is enough for him to know that there is a higher region of thought and of truth into which he can ascend at will, with those who choose to go along with him, though neither he nor they need be constantly resident therein. Is a poet always a poet? No. Down both poet and astronomer, and down, too, philosopher must come—down from their aerial altitudes—their proper regions—and out of these regions they must consent to pass the greater portion of their time. But when the philosopher is a philosopher; when he has put on, like Prospero, his "garment;" when he has ascended to his watch-tower in the skies, and when he gives out the result, let him play the philosopher to some purpose, and let him not be a babbler in the land. Are we to suppose that the real revolutions of the celestial spheres differ widely from their apparent courses; and that the same great law (namely, an analogous discrepancy between the real and the apparent) does, not rule, and may not be found out in the movements of human thought—that mightier than planetary scheme?

§ 66. It may now be proper, although it is by no Remark obviating any objection to this system on the score of presumption.means pleasant, to make a remark or two on the tone in which this work may appear to be conceived and executed. It may seem to adopt a somewhat presumptuous line of exposition in undertaking to lay down the laws, not only of our thinking and knowing, but of all possible thinking and knowing. This charge is answered simply by the remark that it would be still more presumptuous to exclude any possible thinking, any possible knowing, any possible intelligence, from the operation of these laws—for the laws here referred to are necessary truths—their opposites involve contradictions, and, therefore, the supposition that any intelligence can be exempt from them is simply nonsense; and, in so far, as senselessness is a sin, this supposition is sinful. It supposes that Reason can be Unreason, that wisdom can be madness, that sense can be nonsense, that cosmos can be chaos. This system escapes that sin. It is, therefore, less presumptuous, and more becoming in its moral spirit than those hypocritical inquiries which, by way of exalting the highest of all reason, hold that this may be emancipated from the necessary laws of all thinking, and that these laws should be laid down as binding, not universally, but only on human intelligence.^[4] The indispensable extension of the necessary laws to all reason.§ 67. But is it altogether essential, the reader may ask, to the purposes of this system, that the necessary laws should be laid down thus extensively? Is it not sufficient to fix them as absolutely authoritative over human intelligence only? Because, if this were sufficient, it might be as well not to carry them out over all knowledge, or to insist upon their being valid for reason universally. But, good reader, this is not sufficient. It is absolutely indispensable (this must be confessed in the plainest terms)—it is absolutely indispensable for the salvation of our argument, from beginning to end, that these necessary laws should be fixed as authoritative, not over human reason only, but as binding on all possible intelligence. It is not possible, therefore, for the system to adopt any such suggestion as that here thrown out. And if the reader has any further misgivings as to the propriety of our course, we would recommend him to consider whether he does not hold that all reason is bound by the law of contradiction as expounded in § 28. Of course, if we may assign to intelligence universally any one necessary condition of thought and knowledge, the whole question is at an end, and must be held to be decided in favour of the views of this system. It. should be added that the system does not assume, at the outset, that there is any intelligence except the human. Such an assumption is not necessary to enable it to get under weigh, and would, therefore, be altogether irrelevant. But it maintains that, if there be any other intelligence (either actual or possible) besides man's, that intelligence must conform to the necessary laws, these being the essential conditions and constituents of all intellect and of all thought

An objection to the system on the score of inconsistency obviated.§ 68. As a further objection to this system, it may perhaps be urged that the system is guilty of the inconsistency of representing man as capable of conceiving what he cannot conceive. It is guilty of nothing of the kind. The system only represents man as capable of conceiving that many things which are inconceivable by him we, or, at any rate, may be conceived by other and higher intelligences (if such there be, for this is not assumed), and that therefore these things are not to be laid down as absolutely or in themselves inconceivable. Though they we inconceivable by us, they are still to be placed under the category of the conceivable,—a category or general head which, according to this system, has two subdivisions; to wit, first, the conceivable by us, and secondly, the conceivable by some other intelligence (actual or possible), though not conceivable by us. This latter head comprehends what we can conceive to be conceivable, though we cannot directly conceive it. Thus the category of the conceivable is one, though it has two subdivisions. Over against this category, and clearly to be distinguished from it, stands the category of the absolutely, and, in itself, inconceivable—this throughout its whole extent is convertible with the contradictory, the absurd.

Objection retorted. The confusion of philosophers in regard to the conceivable and the inconceivable.§ 69. To retort this charge of inconsistency, it may here be remarked, that the ordinary philosophical distinction of the conceivable and the inconceivable is a distinction which sets every rule of logical division at defiance, and that it is one which, for long, has overridden speculation with a most calamitous oppression. The distinction is this: Things (using that word in a very general sense) are divided by philosophers into things conceivable by us on the one hand (these are placed under a distinct head or category by themselves, as the only properly conceivable), and, on the other hand, into things, still conceivable, though not conceivable by us—and these are laid down under a separate head as the properly inconceivable, the inconceivable without any qualification. Now, observe what follows from this: the inconceivable, as here laid down, is thus slumped together in the same general category with the absolutely inconceivable; the inconceivable by us, is placed in the same category with the inconceivable in itself—that is, with the contradictory and nonsensical. Surely the inconceivable by us, but still conceivable by others, has a much closer affinity to the conceivable by us than it has to the absolutely contradictory; yet our philosophers have not thought so. Hence they have laid down a distinction, which is no distinction, but a confusion, a blundering dogma which has been most injurious—which has, indeed, been nothing less than ruinous for a time to the cause of genuine speculation.

This confusion illustrated.§ 70. Suppose that a natural philosopher, dealing with the ponderable and the imponderable (if there be such a thing), were to divide the ponderable into the liftable by us on the one hand (calling this only the properly ponderable), and, on the other hand, into the still liftable, though not by us; and suppose he were to call the latter the unliftable, the imponderable without any qualification;—in that case Ben Lomond would be set down among the imponderables, for it is certainly not liftable by us; It would be classed along with things which are absolutely and in themselves imponderable—if any such things there be. And there are such things, though perhaps natural philosophy takes no account of them. The days of the week are imponderable; and therefore Ben Lomond, according to this division, would have no more weight than those abstractions which we call Monday and Tuesday. This is precisely the distinction which philosophers have generally taken between the conceivable and the inconceivable. Where would natural science have been had it indulged generally in divisions of this description? It would have been where metaphysical philosophy is now.

All other systems make game of the laws of thought.§ 71. The confusion here pointed out and illustrated, has led all philosophers to make game of the laws of thought. Confounding the simply inconceivable by us with the absolutely inconceivable, they tell us that many things which are absolutely inconceivable we must nevertheless conceive to exist—that is to say, we must think what the laws of thinking (according to the showing of these philosophers) prevent us from thinking. We are called upon to think a thing to exist, which, in the same breath, they tell us we cannot think at all. In a word, they tell us that we can think what they tell us we cannot think; and what is that but making game of the laws of thought, and turning the whole code into ridicule? For example, the law is laid down broadly that we cannot think anything out of relation to ourselves; but before the sound of these words has died away, we are told that we must and do think things out of relation to ourselves. Surely there is something very wrong in that statement. Either the law which it lays down is not the law, or, if the law, it must be so binding that we cannot think things otherwise that as it prescribes. But philosophers do not like to be held too tightly to their own terms; they do not always relish being taken at their own word. They are very fond of playing fast and loose with their own statements.

The inconsistency of philosophers inextricable.§ 72. Perhaps it may be thought that the confusion or inconsistency here pointed out admits of extrication. It admits of none—at least of none which is at all satisfactory. The philosopher may say that, by the "absolutely inconceivable," he means merely the inconceivable by us. If so, then his statement just amounts to this, that we may rationally suppose many things to exist which are simply inconceivable by us, but still conceivable by other intelligences, actual or possible—a proposition which may be very readily admitted. But in making that statement, why should he confound thought and language by breaking down, or at any rate by not keeping up, so palpable and important a distinction as that which subsists between the merely inconceivable by us, and the absolutely inconceivable in itself? The former falls properly under the category of the conceivable; because if a thing is conceivable at all, if we can conceive it as conceivable by any possible intelligence, that consideration is sufficient to place it in this category: the latter constitutes the category of the properly inconceivable, and is, as has been said, convertible with the contradictory.

§ 73. Again, when the absurdity of saying that Their laws of thought always turn out, at best, to be mere laws of imagination"we ought to think something to exist which we cannot think at all," is pointed out the philosopher's defence is sometimes this: When hard pressed, he says that by "think," in the latter clause, he means "imagine,"—picture to the fancy. This admission brings to light a new feature in his case. We thought that he had been treating us to an exposition of the laws of thought; but no, he is treating us, it seems, only to an exposition of the laws of imagination. Had this been explained at the outset, no possible mistake could have arisen, and the truth of all that was advanced would have been readily admitted. But it is not explained, either at the outset or in the sequel. From first to last the psychologist gives out that he is laying down the laws, not of imagination, but of intellect—not of fancying, but of thinking: and therefore his table is either contradictory (§ 71), or it is confused (§ 72), or it places before us something different from what it professes to place before us, and something which we do not want (§ 73). We do not require to be told that we may very well think something to exist which we cannot imagine. We assent to that truism as indisputable. But when we are told, as we sometimes are, that we can think something to exist which we cannot think of at all—in these words, our reason encounters the shock of a contradiction. These remarks apply not to any one psychologist, but to all—indeed, rather to the whole system than to its expounders. Who is chiefly responsible for confounding the conceivable and the inconceivable, it would be very difficult to say.

This system does not make game of the laws of thought.§ 74. The system contained in these Institutes does not make game of the laws of thought. It means what it says, and it stands to what it says. What it declares we cannot think, it declares we can not think. It does not make the tail of an affirmation eat in its own head, as all our popular psychology does. It lays down the laws of thought, not as laws which exist only to be broken, but as laws which exist only to be binding. It teaches that man thinks and can think only in conformity with the laws of intelligence, and not, as all psychology teaches, that man thinks and can think in opposition to these laws. It intends to be taken literally at its word.

It abridges the grounds of controversy.§ 75. All other systems controvert each other largely, and at many points. This system is incontrovertible, it is conceived, in every point; but, at the very utmost, it is controvertible only in its starting-point, its fundamental position. This, therefore, seems to be no little gain to philosophy, to concentrate all possible controversy upon a single point—to gather into one focus all the diverging lances of the foe, and direct them on a single topic. The system, as has been remarked, holds this point, no less than all the others, to be indisputable; but should this be doubted, it cannot be doubted that it is the only disputable point. Hence the system humbly piques itself on having abridged the grounds of philosophical controversy—on having, if not abolished, at any rate reduced them to their narrowest possible limits.

Conclusion of introduction explaining how the starting-point of philosophy is reached (§§ 76-85)§ 76. This introduction may be appropriately terminated by an explanation of the means by which these Institutes have succeeded in getting to the beginning, or absolute starting-point, of philosophy—for the beginning will be itself better understood if the reader has been brought to understand how it has been reached. Indeed, unless he understands this, the starting-point will probably appear to him to be arbitrary; he will still be possessed with a suspicion that some other starting-point was possible. But so soon as he sees how this starting-point is attained, that suspicion will disappear: he will see that no other beginning could have been selected.

How the starting-point is reached§ 77. The epistemology, as has been said, is the proximate section of our science; that is, it is the first which has to be entered on, and got through. The comprehensive question, coextensive with this whole division, is,—What is knowledge?—what is knowing and the known? But this, in its present shape, is a most elusory, unmanageable, and indeed incomprehensible problem. We cannot lay hold of it. It seems to have no handle. It presents no prominence, big or little. Where is the right end of this ball of string? Is it a ball of string, or is it a ball of stone? Because, if it be a ball of stone, it will scarcely be worth while to try to unwind it No man's fingers can untwist a cannon-ball. It is, however, a ball of string, only the difficulty is to find its outermost end; and, until this be found, the attempt to wind it off is of course hopeless. At any rate, let us take especial care (a caution which, as we have already hinted, has been far too little heeded) not to wind on another ball over this one. But to speak less figuratively;—although we have found out that the epistemology is the proximate division of philosophy, we have still to discover what the proximate question is in the vague, confused, and comprehensive problem which occupies this section. The difficulty is not merely to break it down, but to find the fundamental question, the one and true and only beginning, among its fragments.

Plato, in Theætetus, fails to reach the starting-point.§ 78. The Platonic Socrates is gravelled by this same difficulty in "the Theætetus" of Plato. Although Socrates sees the difficulty very clearly, he does not see the solution,—or at any rate he keeps it to himself "What is knowledge?" he asks Theætetus. "Knowledge," answers Theætetus, "consists of geometry and such other matters as we have been now talking about." The reply of Socrates is very happy and highly characteristic, though not very instructive. "You have answered," says he, "most generously—indeed, most munificently;—I may say, quite like a prince. Being asked for a single thing, you have given me I know not how many things; and that, Theætetus, is what I call acting nobly towards an old ignoramus like me." This banter throws Theætetus somewhat aback; upon which Socrates proceeds to explain himself. "You have rather missed," says he, "the point of my question. I did not ask you what things there is a knowledge of,—but what knowledge itself is." This explanation, although it lays the finger on the right point, does not mend matters much; for when the two friends proceed to discuss this question, keeping as near to it as they can, which is not very near, the question is very soon lost sight of, like a river running underground, to make its appearance in occasional glimpses at the surface in some of the other dialogues. Plato did not get, or at any rate did not show that he had got to the beginning, the starting-point of philosophy.

Search for the starting-point.§ 79. We must try, therefore, what we can make of this question (What is knowledge?) for ourselves. It constitutes, as has been said, the general problem of the first section of our science. Why, then, can we not make it the immediate object of our inquiry? The reader may suppose that although it might be more convenient to begin with a simpler question, if one could be obtained, still, in the absence of this, it might answer well enough to take in hand the question we have got. But if that could be done, philosophy would be a mere arbitrary science,—a system contingent for its commencement not on the necessity of the case, but on the choice or convenience of the philosopher. And this circumstance would be altogether destructive of the truth and excellence of philosophy. It would vitiate the character,—it would take away the value,—it would let out the soul of her instructions. It is not, therefore, mainly on account of the complication of this question that it has to be set aside,—nor is it mainly on account of any expected simplicity in the new question, that we are anxious to search it out, and bring it forward. No doubt the one question is the more complex, and the other will be found the more simple; but that is a secondary consideration, and one which does not necessarily compel us to put aside the original question, and go in search of a new one. But unless we are compelled to this by necessity, and not by choice or convenience, our course would be optional and arbitrary; and this it must not be, if our philosophy is to be given out, or is to be accepted, as true. No man is entitled, in philosophy, to say that a thing is true, if he can possibly help thinking it to be true. No man is entitled, in philosophy, to take any one step, if he could possibly have taken any other.^[5]

Why the question—What is knowledge? cannot be the starting-point.§ 80. Why, then, can we not take up and discuss at once the question—What is knowledge? For this very sufficient reason, that it is not intelligible. No intellect can attach any but the very vaguest meaning to the question as it stands. It is ambiguous; it has more meanings than one; and therefore it cannot be understood in its present form. We are, therefore, forced to turn away from it; because no man can deal with what cannot be understood. Thus our relinquishment of the question is not optional, but necessitated; it is not chosen, but compulsory: and thus, too, our selection of a new question, as our starting-point, is not simply convenient; it is constraining: it is not eligible, but inevitable. So far, therefore, our procedure is not arbitrary, but compelled—as it always must be, if any good is to come of our speculations.

§ 81. The question, however, which we are seeking, must still have some reference to the question— This question resolved into two questions.What is knowledge? because this, in its obscurity, is the capital problem of our first section. The new question must be this question in a clear, presentable, and intelligible form. Now, when well considered, it will be found that the question, What is knowledge? must mean one of two things. It must mean either, first, What is knowledge in so far as its kinds differ? In plainer words—What different kinds of knowledge are there? Or it must mean, secondly, What is knowledge in so far as its various kinds agree? In plainer words—What is the one invariable feature, quality, or constituent, common to all our cognitions, however diverse and multifarious these, in other respects, may be?

Which of them is our question,—and the first in philosophy.§ 82. The unintelligible question, What is knowledge? having been resolved into the two intelligible questions, first, What different kinds of knowledge are there? and, secondly, What identical point is there in all the kinds of knowledge?—we have to consider which of these questions is our question—which of them is the truly proximate question of the epistemology. The one or the other of them must be this; for the question, What is knowledge? is not susceptible of being analysed into any other alternatives than these two. Which of them, then, is our question? Theætetus, it will have been observed (§ 78), was of opinion, rather unguardedly, that the first was the question of philosophy. Socrates very speedily undeceived him; for surely no philosophy is required to teach us that the different kinds of knowledge are the mathematical, the historical, the grammatical, and so forth. The other alternative, therefore (although Socrates here gives us no light), must be the question of philosophy, and it is so. It is the foundation- question—the beginning, with no anterior beginning; and its answer is the absolute starting-point of metaphysics, or speculative science.

That philosophy has a starting-point proved by the fact that its starting-point has been found.§ 83. An anterior question may indeed be raised—Is there any identical quality, any common centre, any essential rallying-point in all our cognitions? But that question can be determined only by the result of the research.^[6] If there is no such point, or if no such point can be found, no philosophy is possible; but if such a common point or quality can be found, and is found, then philosophy can exist, and can go forth tracing out the consequences which flow from the answer she has given. That there is such a point, is proved by the fact that such a point has been found.

Starting-point must state the essential of knowledge. Experience may confirm, but reason alone can establish its truth.§ 84. The common point, or quality, or feature in all our knowledge must be such an element as is necessary or essential to the constitution of every datum of cognition. In other words, it must be such an element that, if taken away, the whole datum is, of necessity, extinguished, and its restoration rendered absolutely impossible until the missing element is restored. The element which we must find as a reply to the first question of philosophy must be of this character, otherwise it would not answer the purposes of a strictly-reasoned scheme: it would not be the one point present in every cognition. Experience may confirm the truth of the answer; but Reason alone can establish it effectually.

Re-statement of the first or proximate question of philosophy§ 85. To re-state, then, the fundamental or proximate question of philosophy, it is this—What is the one feature which is identical, invariable, and essential in all the varieties of our knowledge? What is the standard factor which never varies while all else varies? What is the ens unum in omnibus notitiis?^[7]

Its answer is the absolute starting-point, and forms the first proposition of these Institutes§ 86. That is the first question of philosophy—the only first question which it can have; and its answer is the absolute starting-point of metaphysics. That answer is given in the first proposition of these Institutes, which proposition it constitutes.

1. For example, the doctrine of "idealism and materialism," treated of under Prop. IV. (Epistem.); the doctrine of "the universal and the particular," treated of under Prop. VI. (Epistem.); the doctrine of "materiality and spirituality," treated of under Prop. VIII. (Epistem.); the doctrine of "innate ideas," treated of under Prop. IX. (Ontology).
2. In confirmation of what is said in this paragraph, the reader is referred to the very perplexed and erroneous distinction laid down by Kant, between what he calls analytic and synthetic judgments.—See Kritik der reinen Vernunft; Einleitung, §§ iv. v.
   
   There is, according to Kant, a class of judgments or propositions in which the predicate merely expresses some conception already involved in the conception of the subject. "All bodies are extended," Is an example of this class of propositions. Here the conception of extension is already contained in the conception of body; and hence the proposition adds nothing to our knowledge: it is merely explicative, or resolvent; or, in the language of Kant, It is an analytic judgment. All propositions of this kind express a priori or necessary truths; and their criterion is the law of contradiction; for it is obvious that to say, "All bodies are not extended"—when we have once involved extension in the conception of body—is equivalent to saying bodies are not bodies.
   
   There is another class of judgments to which Kant gives the name of synthetic. In synthetic propositions the predicate is said to express, and very often does express, some conception which is not already involved in the conception of the subject. They add to our knowledge: hence they have been sometimes called ampliative judgments. These synthetic or ampliative judgments are, according to Kant, of two kinds; they are either a posteriori (contingent, the product of experience), or they are a priori (necessary, the ground or condition of experience). "Gold is fusible," Is an instance of synthetic judgment a posteriori; for the conception of gold does not necessarily involve the conception of fusibility. Gold might not have been fusible. Its fusibility is learned only from experience, and is a new conception added to the conception of gold.
   
   Up to this point there is no difficulty in understanding the distinction. It is when he comes to speak of the synthetic judgments a priori, that Kant becomes erroneous and confused. He holds that all such propositions express necessary truths (necessary at least in respect to human intelligence), and yet that they are not to be tested by the criterion of contradiction; and that, in their case, the predicate is in no way involved in the conception of the subject. He maintains that all the axioms of geometry and arithmetic are synthetic judgments a priori, and that the law of contradiction does not apply to them. His most prominent illustration is the proposition 7+5=12, which, he says, cannot be tested by this law. It is obvious, however, that it can; and that therefore it is an analytic proposition. For let us say "7+5 are unequal to 12:" but that is equivalent to saying that 7+5 are not 7+5 (that a thing is not what it is); In other words, the predicate (unequal to 12) contradicts an idea which is involved, either directly or indirectly, either proximately or remotely, in the conception of 7+5, the subject of the proposition.
   
   The fact is, that all propositions expressing necessary or a priori truths are analytic or resolvent, and that many of them are, at the same time, ampliative. They are ampliative—that is to say, they add something to our knowledge—whenever the predicate is wrapped up in such profound latency on the subject as not to appear to be involved in it all. In such cases, a new conception appears to be added to the subject of the proposition; but the truth is, that this new conception has not been really added to the subject, but has merely been forced out of it by a strong intellectual pressure. This latency of the predicate in the subject seems to have been the circumstance which misled Kant in his account of the synthetic judgments a priori—and in his attempt to show that all such propositions (including the geometrical axioms) did not depend for their necessity on the principle of contradiction. In regard to his deduction of the categories of the understanding, which he sets forth as synthetic judgments a priori, our present limits permit merely this remark to be made, that these are either not necessary a priori principles of intelligence, or, if they are so, the criterion of contradiction must be their test.
3. Des Carte and others, by laying down doubt as the initiatory probation of the speculative mind, have afforded confirmation of the opinion expressed in the text as to the polemical origin of philosophy.
4. Existence is a category of human thought; and therefore those reasoners who are frightened by the bugbear which they call "anthroporphism," have no right to attribute it to the Deity; but ought, in consistency, to be atheists.
5. A popular error in regard to philosophy is, that it consists of truths which man, at his best, alone can think; whereas the right view is, that philosophy consists of truths which man, at his worst, do what he will, cannot help thinking—only he does not know that he is thinking them.
6. Perhaps this question ought to have been discussed in the Introduction as one of the preliminary article of the science. Its settlement, showing that there is such a point or element, should, in strict order, precede the proposition which declares what that element is. But such advantages in the way of clearness and intelligibility are gained by keeping the starting-point (Proposition I.) just as it is,—for, after all, it is the true commencement; and so much discussion arises under the question referred to, that it has been thought bettor to introduce it, at a later stage, into the body of the work. It forms the thesis of Proposition VI.
7. All science is the ascertainment of the One in the Many, the Invariable in the Variable; and hence metaphysic, in commencing with the question here proposed, is merely following the analogy of the other sciences.