CHAPTER II.

INDUCTIONS IMPROPERLY SO CALLED.

Induction is the process by which what is true at certain times, or of certain individuals, is inferred to be true in like circumstances at all times, or of a whole class. There must be an inference from the known to the unknown, and not merely from a less to a more general expression. Consequently, there is no valid induction, 1, in those cases laid down in the common works on Logic as the only perfect instances of induction, viz. where what we affirm of the class has already been ascertained to be true of each individual in it, and in which the seemingly general proposition in the conclusion is simply a number of singular propositions written in an abridged form; or, 2, when, as often in mathematics, the conclusion, though really general, is a mere summing up of the different propositions from which it is drawn (whether actually ascertained, or, as in the case of the uncalculated terms of an arithmetical series, when once its law is known, readily to be understood); or, 3, when the several parts of a complex phenomenon, which are only capable of being observed separately, have been pieced together by one conception, and made, as it were, one fact represented in a single proposition.

Dr. Whewell sets out this last operation, which he terms the colligation of facts, as induction, and even as the type of induction generally. But, though induction is always colligation, or (as we may, with equal accuracy, characterise such a general expression obtained by abstraction simply connecting observed facts by means of common characters) description, colligation, or description, as such, though a necessary preparation for induction, is not induction. Induction explains and predicts (and, as an incident of these powers, describes). Different explanations collected by real induction from supposed parallel cases (e.g. the Newtonian and the Impact doctrines as to the motions of the heavenly bodies), or different predictions, i.e. different determinations of the conditions under which similar facts may be expected again to occur (e.g. the stating that the position of one planet or satellite so as to overshadow another, and, on the other hand, that the impending over mankind of some great calamity, is the condition of an eclipse), cannot be true together. But, for a colligation to be correct, it is enough that it enables the mind to represent to itself as a whole all the separate facts ascertained at a given time, so that successive tentative descriptions of a phenomenon, got by guessing till a guess is found which tallies with the facts, may, though conflicting (e.g. the theories respecting the motions of the heavenly bodies), be all correct so far as they go. Induction is proof, the inferring something unobserved from something observed; and to provide a proper test of proof is the special purpose of inductive logic. But colligation simply sums up the facts observed, as seen under a new point of view. Dr. Whewell contends that, besides the sum of the facts, colligation introduces, as a principle of connection, a conception of the mind not existing in the facts. But, in fact, it is only because this conception is a copy of something in the facts, although our senses are too weak to recognise it directly, that the facts are rightly classed under the conception. The conception is often even got by abstraction from the facts which it colligates; but also when it is a hypothesis, borrowed from strange phenomena, it still is accepted as true only because found actually, and as a fact, whatever the origin of the knowledge of the fact, to fit and to describe as a whole the separate observations. Thus, though Kepler's consequent inference that, because the orbit of a planet is an ellipse, the planet would continue to revolve in that same ellipse, was an induction, his previous application of the conception of an ellipse, abstracted from other phenomena, to sum up his direct observations of the successive positions occupied by the different planets, and thus to describe their orbits, was no induction. It altered only the predicate, changing—The successive places of, e.g. Mars, are A, B, C, and so forth, into—The successive places of, e.g. Mars, are points in an ellipse: whereas induction always widens the subject.



CHAPTER III.

THE GROUND OF INDUCTION.

Induction is generalisation from experience. It assumes, that whatever is true in any one case, is true in all cases of a certain description, whether past, present, or future (and not merely in future cases, as is wrongly implied in the statement by Reid's and Stewart's school, that the principle of induction is 'our intuitive conviction that the future will resemble the past'). It assumes, in short, that the course of nature is uniform, that is, that all things take place according to general laws. But this general axiom of induction, though by it were discovered the obscure laws of nature, is no explanation of the inductive process, but is itself an induction (not, as some think, an intuitive principle which experience verifies only), and is arrived at after many separate phenomena have been first observed to take place according to general laws. It does not, then, prove all other inductions. But it is a condition of their proof. For any induction can be turned into a syllogism by supplying a major premiss, viz. What is true of this, that, &c. is true of the whole class; and the process by which we arrive at this immediate major may be itself represented by another syllogism or train of syllogisms, the major of the ultimate syllogism, and which therefore is the warrant for the immediate major, being this axiom, viz. that there is uniformity, at all events, in the class of phenomena to which the induction relates, and a uniformity which, if not foreknown, may now be known.

But though the course of nature is uniform, it is also infinitely various. Hence there is no certainty in the induction in use with the ancients, and all non-scientific men, and which Bacon attacked, viz. 'Inductio per enumerationem simplicem, ubi non reperitur instantia contradictoria'—unless, as in a few cases, we must have known of the contradictory instances if existing. The scientific theory of induction alone can show why a general law of nature may sometimes, as when the chemist first discovers the existence and properties of a before unknown substance, be inferred from a single instance, and sometimes (e.g. the blackness of all crows) not from a million.



CHAPTER IV.

LAWS OF NATURE.

The uniformity of the course of nature is a complex fact made up of all the separate uniformities in respect to single phenomena. Each of these separate uniformities, if it be not a mere case of and result from others, is a law of nature; for, though law is used for any general proposition expressing a uniformity, law of nature is restricted to cases where it has been thought that a separate act of creative will is necessary to account for the uniformity. Laws of nature, in the aggregate, are the fewest general propositions from which all the uniformities in the universe might be deducted. Science is ever tending to resolve one law into a higher. Thus, Kepler's three propositions, since having been resolved by Newton into, and shown to be cases of the three laws of motion, may be indeed called laws, but not laws of nature.

Since every correct inductive generalisation is either a law of nature, or a result from one, the problem of inductive logic is to unravel the web of nature, tracing each thread separately, with the view, 1, of ascertaining what are the several laws of nature, and, 2, of following them into their results. But it is impossible to frame a scientific method of induction, or test of inductions, unless, unlike Descartes, we start with the hypothesis that some trustworthy inductions have been already ascertained by man's involuntary observation. These spontaneous generalisations must be revised; and the same principle which common sense has employed to revise them, correcting the narrower by the wider (for, in the end, experience must be its own test), serves also, only made more precise, as the real type of scientific induction. As preliminary to the employment of this test, nature must be surveyed, that we may discover which are respectively the invariable and the variable inductions at which man has already arrived unscientifically. Then, by connecting these different ascertained inductions with one another through ratiocination, they become mutually confirmative, the strongest being made still stronger when bound up with the weaker, and the weakest at least as strong as the weakest of those from which they are deduced (as in the case of the Torricellian experiment) while those leading deductively to incompatible consequences become each other's test, showing that one must be given up (e.g. the old farmers' bad induction that seed never throve if not sown during the increase of the moon). It is because a survey of the uniformities ascertained to exist in nature makes it clear that there are certain and universal uniformities serving as premisses whence crowds of lower inductions may be deduced, and so be raised to the same degree of certainty, that a logic of induction is possible.



CHAPTER V.

THE LAW OF UNIVERSAL CAUSATION.

Phenomena in nature stand to each other in two relations, that of simultaneity, and that of succession. On a knowledge of the truths respecting the succession of facts depends our power of predicting and influencing the future. The object, therefore, must be to find some law of succession not liable to be defeated or suspended by any change of circumstances, by being tested by, and deduced from which law, all other uniformities of succession may be raised to equal certainty. Such a law is not to be found in the class of laws of number or of space; for though these are certain and universal, no laws except those of space and number can be deduced from them by themselves (however important elements they may be in the ascertainment of uniformities of succession). But causation is such a law; and of this, moreover, all cases of succession whatever are examples.

This Law of Causation implies no particular theory as to the ultimate production of effects by efficient causes, but simply implies the existence of an invariable order of succession (on our assurance of which the validity of the canons of inductive logic depends) found by observation, or, when not yet observed, believed, to obtain between an invariable antecedent, i.e. the physical cause, and an invariable consequent, the effect. This sequence is generally between a consequent and the sum of several antecedents. The cause is really the sum total of the conditions, positive and negative; the negative being stated as one condition, the same always, viz. the absence of counteracting causes (since one cause generally counteracts another by the same law whereby it produces its own effects, and, therefore, the particular mode in which it counteracts another may be classed under the positive causes). But it is usual, even with men of science, to reserve the name cause for an antecedent event which completes the assemblage of conditions, and begins to exist immediately before the effect (e.g. in the case of death from a fall, the slipping of the foot, and not the weight of the body), and to style the permanent facts or states, which, though existing immediately before, have also existed long previously, the conditions. But indeed, popularly, any condition which the hearer is least likely to be aware of, or which needs to be dwelt upon with reference to the particular occasion, will be selected as the cause, even a negative condition (e.g. the sentinel's absence from his post, as the cause of a surprise), though from a mere negation no consequence can really proceed. On the other hand, the object which is popularly regarded as standing in the relation of patient, and as being the mere theatre of the effect, is never styled cause, being included in the phrase describing the effect, viz. as the object, of which the effect is a state. But really these so-called patients are themselves agents, and their properties are positive conditions of the effect. Thus, the death of a man who has taken prussic acid is as directly the effect of the organic properties of the man, i.e. the patient, as of the poison, i.e. the agent.

To be a cause, it is not enough that the sequence has been invariable. Otherwise, night might be called the cause of day; whereas it is not even a condition of it. Such relations of succession or coexistence, as the succession of day and night (which Dr. Whewell contrasts as laws of phenomena with causes, though, indeed, the latter also are laws of phenomena, only more universal ones), result from the coexistence of real causes. The causes themselves are followed by their effects, not only invariably, but also necessarily, i.e. unconditionally, or subject to none but negative conditions. This is material to the notion of a cause. But another question is not material, viz. whether causes must precede, or may, at times, be simultaneous with (they certainly are never preceded by) their effects. In some, though not in all cases, the causes do invariably continue together with their effects, in accordance with the schools' dogma, Cessante causa, cessat et effectus; and the hypothesis that, in such cases, the effects are produced afresh at each instant by their cause, is only a verbal explanation. But the question does not affect the theory of causation, which remains intact, even if (in order to take in cases of simultaneity of cause and effect) we have to define a cause, as the assemblage of phenomena, which occurring, some other phenomenon invariably and unconditionally commences, or has its origin.

There exist certain original natural agents, called permanent causes (some being objects, e.g. the earth, air, and sun; others, cycles of events, e.g. the rotation of the earth), which together make up nature. All other phenomena are immediate or remote effects of these causes. Consequently, as the state of the universe at one instant is the consequence of its state at the previous instant, a person (but only if of more than human powers of calculation, and subject also to the possibility of the order being changed by a new volition of a supreme power) might predict the whole future order of the universe, if he knew the original distribution of all the permanent causes, with the laws of the succession between each of them and its different mutually independent effects. But, in fact, the distribution of these permanent causes, with the reason for the proportions in which they coexist, has not been reduced to a law; and this is why the sequences or coexistences among the effects of several of them together cannot rank as laws of nature, though they are invariable while the causes coexist. For this same reason (since the proximate causes are traceable ultimately to permanent causes) there are no original and independent uniformities of coexistence between effects of different (proximate) causes, though there may be such between different effects of the same cause.

Some, and particularly Reid, have regarded man's voluntary agency as the true type of causation and the exclusive source of the idea. The facts of inanimate nature, they argue, exhibit only antecedence and sequence, while in volition (and this would distinguish it from physical causes) we are conscious, prior to experience, of power to produce effects: volition, therefore, whether of men or of God, must be, they contend, an efficient cause, and the only one, of all phenomena. But, in fact, they bring no positive evidence to show that we could have known, apart from experience, that the effect, e.g. the motion of the limbs, would follow from the volition, or that a volition is more than a physical cause. In lieu of positive evidence, they appeal to the supposed conceivableness of the direct action of will on matter, and inconceivableness of the direct action of matter on matter. But there is no inherent law, to this effect, of the conceptive faculty: it is only because our voluntary acts are, from the first, the most direct and familiar to us of all cases of causation, that men, as is seen from the structure of languages (e.g. their active and passive voices, and impersonations of inanimate objects), get the habit of borrowing them to explain other phenomena by a sort of original Fetichism. Even Reid allows that there is a tendency to assume volition where it does not exist, and that the belief in it has its sphere gradually limited, in proportion as fixed laws of succession among external objects are discovered.

This proneness to require the appearance of some necessary and natural connection between the cause and its effect, i.e. some reason per se why the one should produce the other, has infected most theories of causation. But the selection of the particular agency which is to make the connection between the physical antecedent and its consequent seem conceivable, has perpetually varied, since it depends on a person's special habits of thought. Thus, the Greeks, Thales, Anaximenes, and Pythagoras, thought respectively that water, air, or number is such an agency explaining the production of physical effects. Many moderns, again, have been unable to conceive the production of effects by volition itself, without some intervening agency to connect it with them. This medium, Leibnitz thought, was some per se efficient physical antecedent; while the Cartesians imagined for the purpose the theory of Occasional Causes, that is, supposed that God, not qua mind, or qua volition, but qua omnipotent, intervenes to connect the volition and the motion: so far is the mind from being forced to think the action of mind on matter more natural than that of matter on matter. Those who believe volition to be an efficient cause are guilty of exactly the same error as the Greeks, or Leibnitz or Descartes; that is, of requiring an explanation of physical sequences by something [Greek: aneu hou to aition ouk an pot' eie aition]. But they are guilty of another error also, in inferring that volition, even if it is an efficient cause of so peculiar a phenomenon as nervous action, must therefore be the efficient cause of all other phenomena, though having scarcely a single circumstance in common with them.



CHAPTER VI.

THE COMPOSITION OF CAUSES.

An effect is almost always the result of the concurrence of several causes. When all have their full effect, precisely as if they had operated successively, the joint effect (and it is not inconsistent to give the name of joint effect even to the mutual obliteration of the separate ones) may be deduced from the laws which govern the causes when acting separately. Sciences in which, as in mechanics, this principle, viz. the composition of causes, prevails, are deductive and demonstrative. Phenomena, in effect, do generally follow this principle. But in some classes, e.g. chemical, vital, and mental phenomena, the laws of the elements when called on to work together, cease and give place to others, so that the joint effect is not the sum of the separate effects. Yet even here the more general principle is exemplified. For the new heteropathic laws, besides that they never supersede all the old laws (thus, The weight of a chemical compound is equal to the sum of the weight of the elements), have been often found, especially in the case of vital and mental phenomena, to enter unaltered into composition with one another, so that complex facts may thus be deducible from comparatively simple laws. It is even possible that, as has been already partly effected by Dalton's law of definite proportions, and the law of isomorphism, chemistry itself, which is now the least deductive of sciences, may be made deductive, through the laws of the combinations being ascertained to be, though not compounded of the laws of the separate agencies, yet derived from them according to a fixed principle.

The proposition, that effects are proportional to their causes, is sometimes laid down as an independent axiom of causation: it is really only a particular case of the composition of causes; and it fails at the same point as the latter principle, viz. when an addition does not become compounded with the original cause, but the two together generate a new phenomenon.



CHAPTER VII.

OBSERVATION AND EXPERIMENT.

Since the whole of the present facts are the infallible result of the whole of the past, so that if the prior state of the entire universe could recur it would be followed by the present, the process of ascertaining the relations of cause and effect is an analysis or resolution of this complex uniformity into the simpler uniformities which make it up. We must first mentally analyse the facts, not making this analysis minuter than is needed for our object at the time, but at the same time not regarding (as did the Greeks their verbal classifications) a mental decomposition of facts as ultimate. When we have thus succeeded in looking at any two successive chaotic masses (for such nature keeps at each instant presenting to us) as so many distinct antecedents and consequents, we must analyse the facts themselves, and try, by varying the circumstances, to discover which of the antecedents and consequents (for many are always present together) are related to each other.

Experiment and observation are the two instruments for thus varying the circumstances. When the enquiry is, What are the effects of a given cause? experiment is far the superior, since it enables us not merely to produce many more and more opportune variations than nature, which is not arranged on the plan of facilitating our studies, offers spontaneously, but, what is a greater advantage, though one less attended to, also to insulate the phenomenon by placing it among known circumstances, which can be then infinitely varied by introducing a succession of well-defined new ones.

Observation cannot ascertain the effects of a given cause, because it cannot, except in the simplest cases, discover what are the concomitant circumstances; and therefore sciences in which experiment cannot be used, either at all, as in astronomy, or commonly, as in mental and social science, must be mainly deductive, not inductive. When, however, the object is to discover causes by means of their effects, observation alone is primarily available, since new effects could be artificially produced only through their causes, and these are, in the supposed case, unknown. But even then observation by itself cannot directly discover causes, as appears from the case of zoology, which yet contains many recognised uniformities. We have, indeed, ascertained a real uniformity when we observe some one antecedent to be invariably found along with the effects presented by nature. But it is only by reversing the process, and experimentally producing the effects by means of that antecedent, that we can prove it to be unconditional, i.e. the cause.



CHAPTER VIII. AND NOTE TO CHAPTER IX.[1]

THE FOUR METHODS OF EXPERIMENTAL ENQUIRY.

Five canons may be laid down as the principles of experimental enquiry. The first is that of the Method of Agreement, viz.: If two or more instances of the phenomenon under investigation have only one circumstance in common, the circumstance in which alone all the circumstances agree is the cause or the effect of the given phenomenon. The second canon is that of the Method of Difference, viz.: If an instance in which the phenomenon occurs and an instance in which it does not occur have every circumstance in common, save one, and that one occurs only in the former, that one circumstance is the effect, or the cause, or a necessary part of the cause, of the phenomenon.

These two are the simplest modes of singling out from the facts which precede or follow a phenomenon, those with which it is connected by an invariable law. Both are methods of elimination, their basis being, for the method of agreement, that whatever can be eliminated is not, and for that of difference, that whatever cannot be eliminated is connected with the given phenomenon by a law. It is only, however, by the method of difference, which is a method of artificial experiment (and by experiment we can introduce into the pre-existing facts a change perfectly definite), that we can, at least by direct experience, arrive with certainty at causes. The method of agreement is chiefly useful as preliminary to and suggestive of applications of the method of difference, or as an inferior resource in its stead, when, as in the case of many spontaneous operations of nature, we have no power of producing the phenomenon.

When we have power to produce the phenomenon, but only by the agency, not of a single antecedent, but of a combination, the method of agreement can be improved (though it is even then inferior to the direct method of difference) by a double process being used, each proof being independent and corroborative of the other. This may be called the Indirect Method of Difference, or the Joint Method of Agreement and Difference, and its canon will be: If two or more instances in which the phenomenon occurs have only one circumstance in common, while two or more instances in which it does not occur have nothing in common save the absence of that circumstance, the circumstance in which alone the two sets of instances differ, is the effect, or the cause, or a necessary part of the cause, of the phenomenon.

The fourth canon is that of the Method of Residues, viz.: Subduct from any phenomenon such part as is known by previous inductions to be the effect of certain antecedents, and the residue of the phenomenon is the effect of the remaining antecedents. This method is a modification of the method of difference, from which it differs in obtaining, of the two required instances, only the positive instance, by observation or experiment, but the negative, by deduction. Its certainty, therefore, in any given case, is conditional on the previous inductions having been obtained by the method of difference, and on there being in reality no remaining antecedents besides those given as such.

The fifth canon is that of the Method of Concomitant Variations, viz.: Whatever phenomenon varies in any manner whenever another phenomenon varies in some particular manner, is either a cause or an effect of that phenomenon, or (since they may be effects of a common cause) is connected with it through some fact of causation. Through this method alone can we find the laws of the permanent causes. For, though those of the permanent causes whose influence is local may be escaped from by changing the scene of the observation or experiment, many can neither be excluded nor even kept isolated from each other; and, therefore, in such cases, the method of difference, which requires a negative instance, and that of agreement, which requires the different instances to agree only in one circumstance, in order to prove causation, are (together with the methods which are merely forms of these) equally inapplicable. But, though many permanent antecedents insist on being always present, and never present alone, yet we have the resource of making or finding instances in which (the accompanying antecedents remaining unchanged) their influence is varied and modified. This method can be used most effectually when the variations of the cause are variations of quantity; and then, if we know the absolute quantities of the cause and the effect, we may affirm generally that, at least within our limits of observation, the variations of the cause will be attended by similar variations of the effect; it being a corollary from the principle of the composition of causes, that more of the cause is followed by more of the effect. This method is employed usually when the method of difference is impossible; but it is also of use to determine according to what law the quantity or different relations of an effect ascertained by the method of difference follow those of the cause.

These four methods are the only possible modes of experimental enquiry. Dr. Whewell attacks them, first, on the ground (and the canon of ratiocination was attacked on the same) that they assume the reduction of an argument to formulae, which (with the procuring the evidence) is itself the chief difficulty. And this is in truth the case: but, to reduce an argument to a particular form, we must first know what the form is; and in showing us this, Inductive Logic does a service the value of which is tested by the number of faulty inductions in vogue. Dr. Whewell next implies a complaint that no discoveries have ever been made by these four methods. But, as the analogous argument against the syllogism was invalidated by applying equally as against all reasoning, which must be reducible to syllogism, so this also falls by its own generality, since, if true against these methods, it must be true against all observation and experiment, since these must ever proceed by one of the four. And, moreover, even if the four methods were not methods of discovery, as they are, they would yet be subjects for logic, as being, at all events, the sole methods of Proof, which (unless Dr. Whewell be correct in his view that inductions are simply conceptions consistent with the facts they colligate) is the principal topic of logic.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] Chap. IX. consists of 'Miscellaneous Examples of the Four Methods,' which cannot be well represented in an abridged form.



CHAPTER X.

PLURALITY OF CAUSES, AND INTERMIXTURE OF EFFECTS.

The difficulty in tracing the laws of nature arises chiefly from the Intermixture of Effects, and from the Plurality of Causes. The possibility of the latter in any given case—that is, the possibility that the same effect may have been produced by different causes—makes the Method of Agreement (when applied to positive instances) inconclusive, if the instances are few; for that Method involves a tacit supposition, that the same effect in different instances, which have one common antecedent, must follow in all from the same cause, viz. from their common antecedent. When the instances are varied and very many (how many, it is for the Theory of Probability to consider), the supposition, that the presence in all of the common antecedent may be simply a coincidence, is rebutted; and this is the sole reason why mere number of instances, differing only in immaterial points, is of any value. As applied, indeed, to negative instances, i.e. to those resembling each other in the absence of a certain circumstance, the Method of Agreement is not vitiated by Plurality of Causes. But the negative premiss cannot generally be worked unless an affirmative be joined with it: and then the Method is the Joint Method of Agreement and Difference. Thus, to find the cause of Transparency, we do not enquire in what circumstance the numberless non-transparent objects agree; but we enquire, first, in what the few transparent ones agree; and then, whether all the opaque do not agree in the absence of this circumstance.

Not only may there be Plurality of Causes, the whole of the effect being produced now by one, now by another antecedent; but there may also be Intermixture of Effects, through the interference of different causes with each other, so that part of the total effect is due to one, and part to another cause. This latter contingency, which, more than all else, complicates, the study of nature, does not affect the enquiry into those (the exceptional) cases, where, as in chemistry, the total effect is something quite different to the separate effects, and governed by different laws. There the great problem is to discover, not the properties, but the cause of the new phenomenon, i.e. the particular conjunction of agents whence it results; which could indeed never be ascertained by specific enquiry, were it not for the peculiarity, not of all these cases (e.g. not of mental phenomena), but of many, viz. that the heterogeneous effects of combined causes often reproduce, i.e. are transformed into their causes (as, e.g. water into its components, hydrogen and oxygen). The great difficulty is not there to discover the properties of the new phenomenon itself, for these can be found by experiment like the simple effects of any other cause; since, in this class of cases the effects of the separate causes give place to a new effect, and thereby cease to need consideration as separate effects. But in the far larger class of cases, viz. when the total effect is the exact sum of the separate effects of all the causes (the case of the Composition of Causes), at no point may it be overlooked that the effect is not simple but complex, the result of various separate causes, all of which are always tending to produce the whole of their several natural effects; having, it may be, their effects modified, disturbed, or even prevented by each other, but always preserving their action, since laws of causation cannot have exceptions.

These complex effects must be investigated by deducing the law of the effect from the laws of the separate causes on the combination of which it depends. No inductive method is conclusive in such cases (e.g. in physiology, or a fortiori, in politics and history), whether it be the method of simple observation, which compares instances, whether positive or negative, to see if they agree in the presence or the absence of one common antecedent, or the empirical method, which proceeds by directly trying different combinations (either made or found) of causes, and watching what is the effect. Both are inconclusive; the former, because an effect may be due to the concurrence of many causes, and the latter, because we can rarely know what all the coexisting causes are; and still more rarely whether a certain portion (if not all) of the total effect is not due to these other causes, and not to the combination of causes which we are observing.



CHAPTER XI.

THE DEDUCTIVE METHOD.

The deductive method is the main source of our knowledge of complex phenomena, and the sole source of all the theories through which vast and complicated facts have been embraced under a few simple laws. It consists of processes of Induction, Ratiocination, and Verification. First, by one of the four inductive methods, the simple laws (whence may be deduced the complex) of each separate cause which shares in producing the effect, must be first ascertained. This is difficult, when the causes or rather tendencies cannot be observed singly. Such is the case in physiology, since the different agencies which make up an organized body cannot be separated without destroying the phenomenon; consequently there our sole resource is to produce experimentally, or find (as in the case of diseases), pathological instances in which only one organ at a time is affected. Secondly, when the laws of the causes have been found, we calculate the effect of any given combination of them by ratiocination, which may have (though not necessarily) among its premisses the theorems of the sciences of number and geometry. Lastly, as it might happen that some of the many concurring agencies have been unknown or overlooked, the conclusions of ratiocination must be verified; that is, it must be explained why they do not, or shown that they do, accord with observed cases of at least equal complexity, and (which is the most effectual test) that the empirical laws and uniformities, if any, arrived at by direct observation, can be deduced from and so accounted for by them, as, e.g. Kepler's laws of the celestial motions by Newton's theory.



CHAPTERS XII. AND XIII.

THE EXPLANATION AND EXAMPLES OF THE EXPLANATION OF LAWS OF NATURE.

The aim, in the deductive method, is either to discover the law of the effect, or to account for it by explaining it, that is, by pointing out some more general phenomenon (though often less familiar to us) of which this is a case and a partial exemplification, or some laws of causation which produce it by their joint or successive action. This explanation may be made, either—1. By resolving the laws of the complex effect into its elements, which consist as well of the separate laws of the causes which share in producing it, as also of their collocation, i.e. the fact that these separate laws have been so combined; or—2. By resolving the law which connects two links, not proximate, in a chain of causation, into the laws which connect each link with the intermediate links; or—3. By the subsumption or gathering up of several laws under one which amounts to the sum of them all, and which is the recognition of the same sequence in different sets of instances. In the first two of the processes, laws are resolved into others, which both extend to more cases, i.e. are more general, and also, as being laws of nature, of which the complex laws are but results, are more certain, i.e. more unconditional and more universally true. In the third process, laws are resolved into others which are indeed more general, but not more certain, since they are in fact the same laws, and therefore, subject to the same exceptions.

Liebig's researches, e.g. into the Contagious Influence of Chemical Action, and his Theory of Respiration, are among the finest examples, since Newton's exposition of the law of gravitation, of the use of the deductive method for explanation.[2] But the method is as available for explaining mental as physical facts. It is destined to predominate in philosophy. Before Bacon's time deductions were accepted as sufficient, when neither had the premisses been established by proper canons of experimental enquiry, nor the results tested by verification by specific experience. He therefore changed the method of the sciences from deductive to experimental. But, now that the principles of deduction are better understood, it is rapidly reverting from experimental to deductive. Only it must not be supposed that the inductive part of the process is yet complete. Probably, few of the great generalisations fitted to be the premisses for future deductions will be found among truths now known. Some, doubtless, are yet unthought of; others known only as laws of some limited class of facts, as electricity once was. They will probably appear first in the shape of hypotheses, needing to be tested by canons of legitimate induction.

FOOTNOTE:

[2] These, and other illustrations in chap. xiii., cannot be usefully represented in an abridged form.



CHAPTER XIV.

THE LIMITS TO THE EXPLANATION OF LAWS OF NATURE. HYPOTHESES.

The constant tendency of science, operating by the Deductive Method, is to resolve all laws, even those which once seemed ultimate and not derivative, into others still more general. But no process of resolving will ever reduce the number of ultimate laws below the number of those varieties of our feelings which are distinguishable in quality, and not merely in quantity or degree. The ideal limit of the explanation of natural phenomena is to show that each of these ultimate facts has (since the differences in the different cases of it affect our sensations as differences in degree only, and not in quality) only one sort of cause or mode of production; and that all the seemingly different modes of production or causes of it are resolvable into one. But practically this limit is never attained. Thus, though various laws of Causes of Motion have been resolved into others (e.g. the fall of bodies to the earth, and the motions of the planets, into the one law of mutual attraction), many causes of it remain still unresolved and distinct.

Hypotheses are made for the sake of this resolving and explaining of laws. When we do not know of any more general laws into which to resolve an uniformity, we then (either on no or on insufficient evidence) suppose some, imagining either causes (as, e.g. Descartes did the Vortices), or the laws of their operation (as did Newton respecting the planetary central force); but we never feign both cause and law. The use of a hypothesis is to enable us to apply the Deductive Method before the laws of the causes have been ascertained by Induction. In those cases where a false law could not have led to a true result (as was the case with Newton's hypothesis as to the law of the Attractive force) the third part of the process in the Deductive Method, viz. Verification, which shows that the results deduced are true, amounts to a complete induction, and one conforming to the canon of the Method of Difference. But this is the case only when either the cause is known to be one given agent (and only its law is unknown), or to be one of several given agents.

An assumed cause, on the other hand, cannot be accepted as true simply because it explains the phenomena (since two conflicting hypotheses often do this even originally, or, as Dr. Whewell himself allows, may at any rate by modifications be made to do it); nor because it moreover leads to the prediction of other results which turn out true (since this shows only what was indeed apparent already from its agreement with the old facts, viz. that the phenomena are governed by laws partially identical with the laws of other causes); nor because we cannot imagine any other hypothesis which will account for the facts (since there may be causes unknown to our present experience which will equally account for them). The utility of such assumptions of causes depends on their being, in their own nature, capable (as Descartes' Vortices were not, though possibly the Luminiferous Ether may be) of being, at some time or other, proved directly by independent evidence to be the causes. And this was, perhaps, all that Newton meant by his verae causae, which alone, he said, may be assigned as causes of phenomena. Assumptions of causes, which fulfil this condition, are, in science, even indispensable, with a view both to experimental inquiry, and still more to the application of the Deductive Method. They may be accepted, not indeed, as Dr. Whewell thinks they may be, as proof, but as suggesting a line of experiment and observation which may result in proof. And this is actually the method used by practical men for eliciting the truth from involved statements. They first extemporise, from a few of the particulars, a rude theory of the mode in which the event happened; and then keep altering it to square with the rest of the facts, which they review one by one.

The attempting, as in Geology, to conjecture, in conformity with known laws, in what former collocations of known agents (though not known to have been formerly present) individual existing facts may have originated, is not Hypothesis but Induction; for then we do not suppose causes, but legitimately infer from known effects to unknown causes. Of this nature was Laplace's theory, whether weak or not, as to the origin of the earth and planets.



CHAPTER XV.

PROGRESSIVE EFFECTS, AND CONTINUED ACTION OF CAUSES.

Sometimes a complex effect results, not (as has been supposed in the last four chapters) from several, but from one law. The following is the way.

Some effects are instantaneous (e.g. some sensations), and are prolonged only by the prolongation of the causes; others are in their own nature permanent. In some cases of the latter class, the original is also the proximate cause (e.g. Exposure to moist air is both the original and the proximate cause of iron rust). But in others of the same class, the permanency of the effect is only the permanency of a series of changes. Thus, e.g. in cases of Motion, the original force is only the remote cause of any link (after the very first) in the series; and the motion immediately preceding it, being itself a compound of the original force and any retarding agent, is its proximate cause. When the original cause is permanent as well as the effect (e.g. Suppose a continuance of the iron's exposure to moist air), we get a progressive series of effects arising from the cause's accumulating influence; and the sum of these effects amounts exactly to what a number of successively introduced similar causes would have produced. Such cases fall under the head of Composition of Causes, with this peculiarity, that, as the causes (to regard them as plural) do not come into play all at once, the effect at each instant is the sum of the effects only of the then acting causes, and the result will appear as an ascending series. Each addition in such case takes place according to a fixed law (equal quantities in equal times); and therefore it can be computed deductively. Even when, as is sometimes the case, a cause is at once permanent and progressive (as, e.g. the sun, by its position becoming more vertical, increases the heat in summer) so that the quantities added are unequal, the effect is still progressive, resulting from its cause's continuance and progressiveness combined.

In all cases whatever of progressive effects, the succession not merely between the cause and the effect, but also between the first and latter stages of the effect, is uniform. Hence, from the invariable sequence of two terms (e.g. Spring and Summer) in a series going through any continued and uniform process of variation, we do not presume that one is the cause and the others the effect, but rather that the whole series is an effect.



CHAPTER XVI.

EMPIRICAL LAWS.

Empirical laws are derivative laws, of which the derivation is not known. They are observed uniformities, which we compare with the result of any deduction to verify it; but of which the why, and also the limits, are unrevealed, through their being, though resolvable, not yet resolved into the simpler laws. They depend usually, not solely on the ultimate laws into which they are resolvable; but on those, together with an ultimate fact, viz. the mode of coexistence of some of the component elements of the universe. Hence their untrustworthiness for scientific purposes; for, till they have been resolved (and then a derivative law ceases to be empirical), we cannot know whether they result from the different effects of one cause, or from effects of different causes; that is, whether they depend on laws, or on laws and a collocation. And if they thus depend on a collocation, they can be received as true only within the limits of time and space, and also circumstance, in which they have been observed, since the mode of the collocation of the permanent causes is not reducible to a law, there being no principle known to us as governing the distribution and relative proportions of the primaeval natural agents.

Uniformities cannot be proved by the Method of Agreement alone to be laws of causation; they must be tested by the Method of Difference, or explained deductively. But laws of causation themselves are either ultimate or derivative. Signs, previous to actual proof by resolution of them, of their being derivative, are, either that we can surmise the existence of a link between the known antecedent and the consequent, as e.g. in the laws of chemical action; or, that the antecedent is some very complex fact, the effects of which are probably (since most complex cases fall under the Composition of Causes) compounded of the effects of its different elements. But the laws which, though laws of causation, are thus presumably derivative laws only, need, equally with the uniformities which are not known to be laws of causation at all, to be explained by deduction (which they then in turn verify), and are less certain than when they have been resolved into the ultimate laws. Consequently they come under the definition of Empirical Laws, equally with uniformities not known to be laws of causation. However, the latter are far more uncertain; for as, till they are resolved, we cannot tell on how many collocations, as well as laws, they may not depend, we must not rely on them beyond the exact limits in which the observations were made. Therefore, the name Empirical Laws will generally be confined here to these.



CHAPTER XVII.

CHANCE, AND ITS ELIMINATION.

Empirical laws are certain only in those limits within which they have been observed to be true. But, even within those limits, the connection of two phenomena may, as the same effect may be produced by several different causes, be due to Chance; that is, it may, though being, as all facts must be, the result of some law, be a coincidence whence, simply because we do not know all the circumstances, we have no ground to infer an uniformity. When neither Deduction, nor the Method of Difference, can be applied, the only way of inferring that coincidences are not casual, is by observing the frequency of their occurrence, not their absolute frequency, but whether they occur more often than chance would (that is, more often than the positive frequency of the phenomena would) account for. If, in such cases, we could ascend to the causes of the two phenomena, we should find at some stage some cause or causes common to both. Till we can do this, the fact of the connection between them is only an empirical law; but still it is a law.

Sometimes an effect is the result partly of chance, and partly of law: viz. when the total effect is the result partly of the effects of casual conjunctions of causes, and partly of the effects of some constant cause which they blend with and modify. This is a case of Composition of Causes. The object being to find how much of the result is attributable to a given constant cause, the only resource, when the variable causes cannot be wholly excluded from the experiment, is to ascertain what is the effect of all of them taken together, and then to eliminate this, which is the casual part of the effect, in reckoning up the results. If the results of frequent experiments, in which the constant cause is kept invariable, oscillate round one point, that average or middle point is due to the constant cause, and the variable remainder to chance; that is, to causes the coexistence of which with the constant cause was merely casual. The test of the sufficiency of such an induction is, whether or not an increase in the number of experiments materially alters the average.

We can thus discover not merely how much of the effect, but even whether any part of it whatever is due to a constant cause, when this latter is so uninfluential as otherwise to escape notice (e.g. the loading of dice). This case of the Elimination of Chance is called The discovery of a residual phenomenon by eliminating the effects of chance.

The mathematical doctrine of chances, or Theory of Probabilities, considers what deviation from the average chance by itself can possibly occasion in some number of instances smaller than is required for a fair average.



CHAPTER XVIII.

THE CALCULATION OF CHANCES.

In order to calculate chances, we must know that of several events one, and no more, must happen, and also not know, or have any reason to suspect, which of them that one will be. Thus, with the simple knowledge that the issue must be one of a certain number of possibilities, we may conclude that one supposition is most probable to us. For this purpose it is not necessary that specific experience or reason should have also proved the occurrence of each of the several events to be, as a fact, equally frequent. For, the probability of an event is not a quality of the event (since every event is in itself certain), but is merely a name for the degree of ground we have, with our present evidence, for expecting it. Thus, if we know that a box contains red, white, and black balls, though we do not know in what proportions they are mingled, we have numerically appreciable grounds for considering the probability to be two to one against any one colour. Our judgment may indeed be said in this case to rest on the experience we have of the laws governing the frequency of occurrence of the different cases; but such experience is universal and axiomatic, and not specific experience about a particular event. Except, however, in games of chance, the purpose of which requires ignorance, such specific experience can generally be, and should be gained. And a slight improvement in the data profits more than the most elaborate application of the calculus of probabilities to the bare original data, e.g. to such data, when we are calculating the credibility of a witness, as the proportion, even if it could be verified, between the number of true and of erroneous statements a man, qua man, may be supposed to make during his life. Before applying the Doctrine of Chance, therefore, we should lay a foundation for an evaluation of the chances by gaining positive knowledge of the facts. Hence, though not a necessary, yet a most usual condition for calculating the probability of a fact is, that we should possess a specific knowledge of the proportion which the cases in which facts of the particular sort occur bear to the cases in which they do not occur.

Inferences drawn correctly according to the Doctrine of Chances depend ultimately on causation. This is clearest, when, as sometimes, the probability of an event is deduced from the frequency of the occurrence of the causes. When its probability is calculated by merely counting and comparing the number of cases in which it has occurred with those in which it has not, the law, being arrived at by the Method of Agreement, is only empirical. But even when, as indeed generally, the numerical data are obtained in the latter way (since usually we can judge of the frequency of the causes only through the medium of the empirical law, which is based on the frequency of the effects), still then, too, the inference really depends on causation alone. Thus, an actuary infers from his tables that, of any hundred living persons under like conditions, five will reach a given age, not simply because that proportion have reached it in times past, but because that fact shows the existence there of a particular proportion between the causes which shorten and the causes which prolong life to the given extent.



CHAPTER XIX.

THE EXTENSION OF DERIVATIVE LAWS TO ADJACENT CASES.

Derivative laws are inferior to ultimate laws, both in the extent of the propositions, and in their degree of certainty within that extent. In particular, the uniformities of coexistence and sequence which obtain between effects depending on different primaeval causes, vary along with any variation in the collocation of these causes. Even when the derivative uniformity is between different effects of the same cause, it cannot be trusted to, since one or more of the effects may be producible by another cause also. The effects, even, of derivative laws of causation (resulting, i.e. the laws, from the combination of several causes) are not independent of collocations; for, though laws of causation, whether ultimate or derivative, are themselves universal, being fulfilled even when counteracted, the peculiar probability of the latter kind of laws of causation being counteracted (as compared with ultimate laws, which are liable to frustration only from one set of counteracting causes) is fatal to the universality of the derivative uniformities made up of the sequences or coexistences of their effects; and, therefore, such derivative uniformities as the latter are to be relied on only when the collocations are known not to have changed.

Derivative laws, not causative, may certainly be extended beyond the limits of observation, but only to cases adjacent in time. Thus, we may not predict that the sun will rise this day 20,000 years, but we can predict that it will rise to-morrow, on the ground that it has risen every day for the last 5,000 years. The latter prediction is lawful, because, while we know the causes on which its rising depends, we know, also, that there has existed hitherto no perceptible cause to counteract them; and that it is opposed to experience that a cause imperceptible for so long should start into immensity in a day. If the uniformity is empirical only, that is, if we do not know the causes, and if we infer that they remain uncounteracted from their effects alone, we still can extend the law to adjacent cases, but only to cases still more closely adjacent in time; since we can know neither whether changes in these unknown causes may not have occurred, nor whether there may not exist now an adverse cause capable after a time of counteracting them.

An empirical law cannot generally be extended, in reference to Place, even to adjacent cases (since there is no uniformity in the collocations of primaeval causes). Such an extension is lawful only if the new cases are presumably within the influence of the same individual causes, even though unknown. When, however, the causes are known, and the conjunction of the effects is deducible from laws of the causes, the derivative uniformity may be extended over a wider space, and with less abatement for the chance of counteracting causes.



CHAPTER XX.

ANALOGY.

One of the many meanings of Analogy is, Resemblance of Relations. The value of an analogical argument in this sense depends on the showing that, on the common circumstance which is the fundamentum relationis, the rest of the circumstances of the case depend. But, generally, to argue from analogy signifies to infer from resemblance in some points (not necessarily in relations) resemblance in others. Induction does the same: but analogy differs from induction in not requiring the previous proof, by comparison of instances, of the invariable conjunction between the known and the unknown properties; though it requires that the latter should not have been ascertained to be unconnected with the common properties.

If a fair proportion of the properties of the two cases are known, every resemblance affords ground for expecting an indefinite number of other resemblances, among which the property in question may perhaps be found. On the other hand, every dissimilarity will lead us to expect that the two cases differ in an indefinite number of properties, including, perhaps, the one in question. These dissimilarities may even be such as would, in regard to one of the two cases, imply the absence of that property; and then every resemblance, as showing that the two cases have a similar nature, is even a reason for presuming against the presence of that property. Hence, the value of an analogical argument depends on the extent of ascertained resemblance as compared, first, with the amount of ascertained difference, and next, with the extent of the unexplored region of unascertained properties.

The conclusions of analogy are not of direct use, unless when the case to which we reason is a case adjacent, not, as before, in time or place, but in circumstances. Even then a complete induction should be sought after. But the great value of analogy, even when faint, in science, is that it may suggest observations and experiments, with a view to establishing positive scientific truths, for which, however, the hypotheses based on analogies must never be mistaken.



CHAPTER XXI.

THE EVIDENCE OF THE LAW OF UNIVERSAL CAUSATION.

The validity of all the four inductive methods depends on our assuming that there is a cause for every event. The belief in this, i.e. in the law of universal causation, some affirm, is an instinct which needs no warrant other than all men's disposition to believe it; and they argue that to demand evidence of it is to appeal to the intellect from the intellect. But, though there is no appeal from the faculties all together, there may be from one to another: and, as belief is not proof (for it may be generated by association of ideas as well as by evidence), a case of belief does require to be proved by an appeal to something else, viz. to the faculties of sense and consciousness.

The law of universal causation is, in fact, a generalisation from many partial uniformities of sequence. Consequently, like these, which cannot have been arrived at by any strict inductive method (for all such methods presuppose the law of causation itself), it must itself be based on inductions per simplicem enumerationem, that is, generalisations of observed facts, from the mere absence of any known instances to the contrary. This unscientific process is, it is true, usually delusive; but only because, and in proportion as, the subject-matter of the observation is limited in extent. Its results, whenever the number of coincidences is too large for chance to explain, are empirical laws. These are ordinarily true only within certain limits of time, place, and circumstance, since, beyond these, there may be different collocations or counteracting agencies. But the subject-matter of the law of universal causation is so diffused that there is no time, place, or set of circumstances, at least within the portion of the universe within our observation, and adjacent cases, but must prove the law to be either true or false. It has, in fact, never been found to be false, but in ever increasing multitudes of cases to be true; and phenomena, even when, from their rarity or inaccessibility, or the number of modifying causes, they are not reducible universally to any law, yet in some instances do conform to this. Thus, it may be regarded as coextensive with all human experience, at which point the distinction between empirical laws and laws of nature vanishes. Formerly, indeed, it was only a very high probability; but, with our modern experience, it is, practically, absolutely certain, and it confirms the particular laws of causation, whence itself was drawn, when there seem to be exceptions to them. All narrower inductions got by simple enumeration are unsafe, till, by the application to them of the four methods, the supposition of their falsity is shown to contradict this law, though it was itself arrived at by simple enumeration.



CHAPTER XXII.

UNIFORMITIES OF COEXISTENCE NOT DEPENDENT ON CAUSATION.

Besides uniformities of succession, which always depend on causation, there are uniformities of coexistence. These also, whenever the coexisting phenomena are effects of causes, whether of one common cause or of several different causes, depend on the laws of their cause or causes; and, till resolved into these laws, are mere empirical laws. But there are some uniformities of coexistence, viz. those between the ultimate properties of kinds, which do not depend on causation, and therefore seem entitled to be classed as a peculiar sort of laws of nature. As, however, the presumption always is (except in the case of those kinds which are called simple substances or elementary natural agents), that a thing's properties really depend on causes though not traced, and we never can be certain that they do not; we cannot safely claim (though it may be an ultimate truth) higher certainty than that of an empirical law for any generalisation about coexistence, that is to say (since kinds are known to us only by their properties, and, consequently, all assertions about them are assertions about the coexistence of something with those properties), about the properties of kinds.

Besides, no rigorous inductive system can be applied to the uniformities of coexistence, since there is no general axiom related to them, as is the law of causation to those of succession, to serve as a basis for such a system. Thus, Bacon's practical applications of his method failed, from his supposing that we can have previous certainty that a property must have an invariable coexistent (as it must have an invariable antecedent), which he called its form. He ought to have seen that his great logical instrument, elimination, is inapplicable to coexistences, since things, which agree in having certain apparently ultimate properties, often agree in nothing else; even the properties which (e.g. Hotness) are effects of causes, generally being not connected with the ultimate resemblances or diversities in the objects, but depending on some outward circumstance.

Our only substitute for an universal law of coexistence is the ancients' induction per enumerationem simplicem ubi non reperitur instantia contradictoria, that is, the improbability that an exception, if any existed, could have hitherto remained unobserved. But the certainty thus arrived at can be only that of an empirical law, true within the limits of the observations. For the coexistent property must be either a property of the kind, or an accident, that is, something due to an extrinsic cause, and not to the kind (whose own indigenous properties are always the same). And the ancients' class of induction can only prove that within given limits, either (in the latter case) one common, though unknown, cause has always been operating, or (in the former case) that no new kind of the object has as yet or by us been discovered.

The evidence is, of course (with respect both to the derivative and the ultimate uniformities of coexistence), stronger in proportion as the law is more general; for the greater the amount of experience from which it is derived, the more probable is it that counteracting causes, or that exceptions, if any, would have presented themselves. Consequently, it needs more evidence to establish an exception to a very general, than to a special, empirical law. And common usage agrees with this principle. Still, even the greater generalisations, when not based on connection by causation, are delusive, unless grounded on a separate examination of each of the included infimae species, though certainly there is a probability (no more) that a sort of parallelism will be found in the properties of different kinds; and that their degree of unlikeness in one respect bears some proportion to their unlikeness in others.



CHAPTER XXIII.

APPROXIMATE GENERALISATIONS, AND PROBABLE EVIDENCE.

The inferences called probable rest on approximate generalisations. Such generalisations, besides the inferior assurance with which they can be applied to individual cases, are generally almost useless as premisses in a deduction; and therefore in Science they are valuable chiefly as steps towards universal truths, the discovery of which is its proper end. But in practice we are forced to use them—1, when we have no others, in consequence of not knowing what general property distinguishes the portion of the class which have the attribute predicated, from the portion which have it not (though it is true that we can, in such a case, usually obtain a collection of exactly true propositions by subdividing the class into smaller classes); and, 2, when we do know this, but cannot examine whether that general property is present or not in the individual case; that is, when (as usually in moral inquiries) we could get universal majors, but not minors to correspond to them. In any case an approximate generalisation can never be more than an empirical law. Its authority, however, is less when it composes the whole of our knowledge of the subject, than when it is merely the most available form of our knowledge for practical guidance, and the causes, or some certain mark of the attribute predicated, being known to us as well as the effects, the proposition can be tested by our trying to deduce it from the causes or mark. Thus, our belief that most Scotchmen can read, rests on our knowledge, not merely that most Scotchmen that we have known about could read, but also that most have been at efficient schools.

Either a single approximate generalisation may be applied to an individual instance, or several to the same instance. In the former case, the proposition, as stating a general average, must be applied only to average cases; it is, therefore, generally useless for guidance in affairs which do not concern large numbers, and simply supplies, as it were, the first term in a series of approximations. In the latter case, when two or more approximations (not connected with each other) are separately applicable to the instance, it is said that two (or more) probabilities are joined by addition, or, that there is a self-corroborative chain of evidence. Its type is: Most A are B; most C are B; this is both an A and a C; therefore it is probably a B. On the other hand, when the subsequent approximation or approximations is or are applicable only by virtue of the application of the first, this is joining two (or more) probabilities, by way of Deduction, which produces a self-infirmative chain; and the type is: Most A are B; most C are A; this is a C; therefore it is probably an A; therefore it is probably a B. As, in the former case, the probability increases at each step, so, in the latter, it progressively dwindles. It is measured by the probability arising from the first of the propositions, abated in the ratio of that arising from the subsequent; and the error of the conclusion amounts to the aggregate of the errors of all the premisses.

In two classes of cases (exceptions which prove the rule) approximate can be employed in deduction as usefully as complete generalisations. Thus, first, we stop at them sometimes, from the inconvenience, not the impossibility, of going further; and, by adding provisos, we might change the approximate into an universal proposition; the sum of the provisos being then the sum of the errors liable to affect the conclusion. Secondly, they are used in Social Science with reference to masses with absolute certainty, even without the addition of such provisos. Although the premisses in the Moral and Social Sciences are only probable, these sciences differ from the exact only in that we cannot decipher so many of the laws, and not in the conclusions that we do arrive at being less scientific or trustworthy.



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE REMAINING LAWS OF NATURE.

There are, we have seen, five facts, one of which every proposition must assert, viz. Existence, Order in Place, Order in Time, Causation, and Resemblance. Causation is not fundamentally different from Coexistence and Sequence, which are the two modes of Order in Time. They have been already discussed. Of the rest, Existence, if of things in themselves, is a topic for Metaphysics, Logic regarding the existence of phenomena only; and as this, when it is not perceived directly, is proved by proving that the unknown phenomenon is connected by succession or coexistence with some known phenomenon, the fact of Existence is not amenable to any peculiar inductive principles. There remain Resemblance and Order in Place.

As for Resemblance, Locke indeed, and, in a more unqualified way, his school, asserted that all reasoning is simply a comparison of two ideas by means of a third, and that knowledge is only the perception of the agreement or disagreement, that is, the resemblance or dissimilarity, of two ideas: they did not perceive, besides erring in supposing ideas, and not the phenomena themselves, to be the subjects of reasoning, that it is only sometimes (as, particularly, in the sciences of Quantity and Extension) that the agreement or disagreement of two things is the one thing to be established. Reasonings, however, about Resemblances, whenever the two things cannot be directly compared by the virtually simultaneous application of our faculties to each, do agree with Locke's account of reasoning; being, in fact, simply such a comparison of two things through the medium of a third. There are laws or formulae for guiding the comparison; but the only ones which do not come under the principles of Induction already discussed, are the mathematical axioms of Equality, Inequality, and Proportionality, and the theorems based on them. For these, which are true of all phenomena, or, at least, without distinction of origin, have no connection with laws of Causation, whereas all other theorems asserting resemblance have, being true only of special phenomena originating in a certain way, and the resemblances between which phenomena must be derived from, or be identical with, the laws of their causes.

In respect to Order in Place, as well as in respect to Resemblance, some mathematical truths are the only general propositions which, as being independent of Causation, require separate consideration. Such are certain geometrical laws, through which, from the position of certain points, lines, or spaces, we infer the position of others, without any reference to their physical causes, or to their special nature, except as regards position or magnitude. There is no other peculiarity as respects Order in Place. For, the Order in Place of effects is of course a mere consequence of the laws of their causes; and, as for primaeval causes, in their Order in Place, called their collocation, no uniformities are traceable.

Hence, only the methods of Mathematics remain to be investigated; and they are partly discussed in the Second Book. The directly inductive truths of Mathematics are few: being, first, certain propositions about existence, tacitly involved in the so-called definitions; and secondly, the axioms, to which latter, though resting only on induction, per simplicem enumerationem, there could never have been even any apparent exceptions. Thus, every arithmetical calculation rests (and this is what makes Arithmetic the type of a deductive science) on the evidence of the axiom: The sums of equals are equals (which is coextensive with nature itself)—combined with the definitions of the numbers, which are severally made up of the explanation of the name, which connotes the way in which the particular agglomeration is composed, and of the assertion of a fact, viz. the physical property so connoted.

The propositions of Arithmetic affirm the modes of formation of given numbers, and are true of all things under the condition of being divided in a particular way. Algebraical propositions, on the other hand, affirm the equivalence of different modes of formation of numbers generally, and are true of all things under condition of being divided in any way.

Though the laws of Extension are not, like those of Number, remote from visual and tactual imagination, Geometry has not commonly been recognised as a strictly physical science. The reason is, first, the possibility of collecting its facts as effectually from the ideas as from the objects; and secondly, the illusion that its ideal data are not mere hypotheses, like those in now deductive physical sciences, but a peculiar class of realities, and that therefore its conclusions are exceptionally demonstrative. Really, all geometrical theorems are laws of external nature. They might have been got by generalising from actual comparison and measurement; only, that it was found practicable to deduce them from a few obviously true general laws, viz. The sums of equals are equals; things equal to the same thing are equal to one another (which two belong to the Science of Number also); and, thirdly (what is no merely verbal definition, though it has been so called): Lines, surfaces, solid spaces, which can be so applied to one another as to coincide, are equal. The rest of the premisses of Geometry consist of the so-called definitions, which assert, together with one or more properties, the real existence of objects corresponding to the names to be defined. The reason why the premisses are so few, and why Geometry is thus almost entirely deductive, is, that all questions of position and figure, that is, of quality, may be resolved into questions of quantity or magnitude, and so Geometry may be reduced to the one problem of the measurement of magnitudes; that is, to the finding the equalities between them.

Mathematical principles can be applied to other sciences. All causes operate according to mathematical laws; an effect being ever dependent on the quantity or a function of the agent, and generally on its position too. Mathematical principles cannot, indeed, as M. Comte has well explained, be usefully applied to physical questions, whenever the causes are either too inaccessible for their numerical laws to be ascertained, or are too complex for us to compute the effect, or are ever fluctuating. And, in proportion as physical questions cease to be abstract and hypothetical, mathematical solutions of them become imperfect. But the great value of mathematical training is, that we learn to use its method (which is the most perfect type of the Deductive Method), that is, we learn to employ the laws of simpler phenomena to explain and predict those of the more complex.



CHAPTER XXV.

THE GROUNDS OF DISBELIEF.

The result of examining evidence is not always belief, or even suspension of judgment, but is sometimes positive disbelief. This can ensue only when the affirmative evidence does not amount to full proof, but is based on some approximate generalisation. In such cases, if the negative evidence consist of a stronger, though still only an approximate, generalisation, we think the fact improbable, and disbelieve it provisionally; but if of a complete generalisation based on a rigorous induction, it is disbelieved by us totally, and thought impossible. Hence, Hume declared miracles incredible, as being, he considered, contrary to a complete induction. Now, it is true that in the absence of any adequate counteracting cause, a fact contrary to a complete induction is incredible, whatever evidence it may be grounded on; unless, indeed, the evidence go to prove the supposed law inconsistent with some better established one. But when a miracle is asserted, the presence of an adequate counteracting cause is asserted, viz. a direct interposition of an act of the will of a Being having power over nature. Therefore, all that Hume proved is, that we cannot believe in a miracle unless we believe in the power, and the will, of the Deity to interfere with existing causes by introducing new ones; and that, in default of such belief, not the most satisfactory evidence of our senses or of testimony can hinder us from holding a seeming miracle to be merely the result of some unknown natural cause. The argument of Dr. Campbell and others against Hume, however, is untenable, viz. that, as we do not disbelieve an alleged fact (which may be something conforming to the uniform course of experience) merely because the chances are against it, therefore we need never disbelieve any fact supported by credible testimony (even if contrary to the uniform course of experience). But this is to confound improbability before the fact, which is not always a ground for disbelief, with improbability after the fact, which always is.

Facts which conflict with special laws of causation are only improbable before the fact; that is, our disbelief depends on the improbability that there could have been present, without our knowledge, at the time and place of the event, an adequate counteracting cause. So, too, with facts which conflict with the properties of kinds (which are uniformities of mere coexistence not proved to be dependent on causation), that is, facts which assert the existence of a new kind; such facts we disbelieve only if, the generalisation being sufficiently comprehensive, some properties are said to have been found in the supposed new kind disjoined from others which always have been known to accompany them. When the assertion would amount, if admitted, only to the existence of an unknown cause or an anomalous kind, unconformable, but, as Hume puts it, not contrary to experience, in circumstances so little explored, that it is credible hitherto unknown things may there be found, and when prejudice cannot have tempted to the assertion, one ought neither to admit nor to reject the testimony, but to suspend judgment till it be confirmed or disproved from other sources. Only facts, then, which are contradictory to the laws of Number, Extension, and Universal Causation (since these know no counteraction or anomaly), or to laws nearly as general, are improbable after, as well as before the fact, and only these we should term absolutely impossible, calling other facts improbable only, or, at most, impossible in the circumstances of the case.

Between these two species of improbabilities lie coincidences; that is, combinations of chances presenting some unexpected regularity assimilating them in so far to the results of law. It was thought by d'Alembert that, though regular combinations are as probable as others according to the mathematical theory, some physical law prevents them from occurring so often. Now, stronger testimony may indeed be needed to support the assertion of such a combination as, e.g. ten successive throws of sixes at dice, because such a regular series is more likely than an irregular series to be the result of design; and because even the desire to excite wonder is likely to tempt men to assert the occurrence falsely, though this probability must be estimated afresh in every instance. But though such a series seems peculiarly improbable, it is only because the comparison is tacitly made, not between it and any one particular previously fixed series of throws, but between all regular and all irregular successions taken together. The fact is not in itself more improbable; and no stronger evidence is needed to give it credibility, apart from the reasons above mentioned, than in the case of ordinary events.



BOOK IV.

OPERATIONS SUBSIDIARY TO INDUCTION.



CHAPTER I.

OBSERVATION AND DESCRIPTION.

The mental process which Logic deals with, viz. the investigation of truth by means of evidence, is always a process of Induction. Since Induction is simply the extension to a class of something observed to be true of certain members of it, Observation is the first preliminary to it. It is, therefore, right to consider, not indeed how or what to observe (for this belongs to the art of Education), but under what conditions observation is to be relied on. The sole condition is, that the supposed observation should really be an observation, and not an inference, whereas it is usually a compound of both, there being, in our propositions, besides observation which relates only to the sensations, an inference from the sensations to the objects themselves. Thus so-called errors of sense are only erroneous inferences from sense. The sensations themselves must be genuine; but, as they generally arise on a certain arrangement of outward objects being present to the organs, we, as though by instinct, infer this arrangement even when not existing. The sole object, then, of the logic of observation, is to separate the inferences from observation from the observations themselves, the only thing really observed by the mind (to waive the metaphysical problem as to the perception of objects) being its own feelings or states of consciousness, outward, viz. Sensations, and inward, viz. Thoughts, Emotions, and Volitions.

As in the simplest observation much is inference, so, in describing an observed fact, we not merely describe the fact, but are always forced to class it, affirming the resemblance, in regard of whatever is the ground of the name being given, between it and all other things denoted by the name. The resemblance is sometimes perceived by direct comparison of the objects together; sometimes (as, e.g. in the description of the earth's figure as globular and so forth) it is inferred through intermediate marks, i.e. deductively. When a hypothesis is made (e.g. by Kepler, as to the figure of the earth's orbit), and then verified by comparison with actual observations, Dr. Whewell calls the process Colligation of Facts by appropriate Conceptions, and affirms it to be the whole of Induction. But this also is only description, being really the ordinary process of ascertaining resemblance by a comparison of phenomena; and, though subsidiary to Induction, it is not itself Induction at all.



CHAPTER II.

ABSTRACTION, OR THE FORMATION OF CONCEPTIONS.

This Chapter is a digression.

Abstract Ideas, that is, General Conceptions, certainly do exist, however Metaphysics may decide as to their composition. They represent in our minds the whole classes of things called by the general names; and, being implied in the mental operation whereby classes are formed, viz. in the comparison of phenomena, to ascertain in what they agree, cannot be dispensed with in induction, since such a comparison is a necessary preliminary to an induction, and more than two objects cannot well be compared without a type, in which capacity conceptions serve.

But, though implied in the comparison, it does not follow that, as Dr. Whewell supposes, they must have existed in the mind prior to comparison. Sometimes, but only sometimes, they are pre-existent to the comparison of the particular facts in question, being, as was Kepler's hypothesis of an ellipse, familiar conceptions borrowed from different facts, and superinduced, to use Dr. Whewell's expression, on the facts in question. But even such conceptions are the results of former comparisons of individual facts. And much more commonly (and these are the more difficult cases in science) conceptions are not pre-existent even in this sense; but they have to be got (e.g. the Idea of Polarity) by abstraction, that is, by comparison, from among the very phenomena which they afterwards serve to arrange, or, as Dr. Whewell says, to connect. They seem to be pre-existent; but this is only because the mind keeps ever forming conceptions from the facts, which at the time are before it, and then tentatively applies these conceptions (which it is always remodelling, dropping some which are found not to suit after-found facts, and generalising others by a further effort of abstraction) as types of comparison for phenomena subsequently presented to it; so that, being found in these later stages of the comparison already in the mind, they appear in the character simply of types, and not as being also themselves results of comparison. Really they are always both; and the term comparison expresses as well their origin as (and this far more exactly than to connect or to superinduce) their function.

Dr. Whewell says that conceptions must be appropriate and clear. They must, indeed, be appropriate relatively to the purpose in view (for appropriateness is only relative); but they cannot avoid being appropriate (though one may be more so than another) if our comparison of the objects has led to a conception corresponding to any real agreement in the facts: the ancients' and schoolmen's conceptions were often absolutely inappropriate, because grounded on only apparent agreement. So, again, they must be clear in the following sense; that is to say, a sufficient number of facts must have been carefully observed, and accurately remembered. It is also a condition (and one implied in the latter qualities) of clearness, that the conception should be determinate, that is, that we should know precisely what agreements we include in it, and never vary the connotation except consciously.

Activity, carefulness, and accuracy in the observing and comparing faculties are therefore needed; the first quality to produce appropriateness, and the latter two, clearness. Moreover, scientific imagination, i.e. the faculty of mentally arranging known elements into new combinations, is necessary for forming true conceptions; and the mind should be stored with previously acquired conceptions, kindred to the subject of inquiry, since a comparison of the facts themselves often fails to suggest the principle of their agreement; just as, in seeking for anything lost, we often have to ask ourselves in what places it may be hid, that we may search for it there.



CHAPTER III.

NAMING AS SUBSIDIARY TO INDUCTION.

As reasoning is from particulars to particulars, and consists simply in recognising one fact as a mark of another, or a mark of a mark of another, the only necessary conditions of the exertion of the reasoning power are senses, to perceive that two facts are conjoined; and association, as the law by which one of the two facts raises up the idea of the other. The existence of artificial signs is not a third necessary condition. It is only, however, the rudest inductions (and of such even brutes are capable) that can be made without language or other artificial signs. Without such we could avail ourselves but little of the experience of others; and (except in cases involving our intenser sensations or emotions) of none of our own long past experience. It is only through the medium of such permanent signs that we can register uniformities; and the existence of uniformities is necessary to justify an inference, even in a single case, and they can be ascertained once for all.

General names are not, as some have argued, a mere contrivance to economise words. For, if there were a name for every individual object, but no general names, we could not record one uniformity, or the result of a single comparison. To effect this, all indeed, that are indispensable, are the abstract names of attributes; but, in fact, men have always given general names to objects also.



CHAPTER IV.

THE REQUISITES OF A PHILOSOPHICAL LANGUAGE, AND THE PRINCIPLES OF DEFINITION.

Concrete general names (and the meaning of abstract names depends on the concrete) should have a fixed and knowable connotation. This is easy enough when, as in the case of new technical names, we choose the connotation for ourselves; but it is hard when, as generally happens with names in common use, the same name has been applied to different objects, from only a vague feeling of resemblance. For, then, after a time, general propositions are made, in which predicates are applied to those names; and these propositions make up a loose connotation for the class name, which, and the abstract at about this same period formed from it, are consequently never understood by two people, or by the same person at different times, in the same way. The logician has to fix this fluctuating connotation, but so that the name may, if possible, still denote the things of which it is currently affirmed. To effect this double object (which is called, though improperly, defining not the name but the thing), he must select from the attributes in which the denoted objects agree, choosing, as the common properties are always many, and, in a kind, innumerable, those which are familiarly predicated of the class, and out of them, if possible, or otherwise, even in preference to them, the ones on which depend, or which are the best marks of, those thus familiarly predicated. To do this successfully, presumes a knowledge of all the common properties of the class, and the relations between them of causation and dependence. Hence the discussion of non-verbal definitions (which Dr. Whewell calls the Explication of Conceptions) is part of the business of discovery. Hence, too, disputes in science have often assumed the form of a battle of definitions; such definitions being not arbitrary, but made with a view to some tacitly assumed principle needing expression.

We ought, if possible, to define in consonance with the denotation. But sometimes this is impossible, through the name having accumulated transitive applications, in its gradual extension from one object, in relation to which it connotes one property, to another which resembles the former, but in quite a different attribute. These transitive applications, even when found to correspond in different languages, may have arisen, not from any common quality in the objects, but from some association of ideas founded on the common nature and condition of mankind. When the association is so natural and habitual as to become virtually indissoluble, the transitive meanings are apt to coalesce in one complex conception; and every new transition becomes a more comprehensive generalisation of the term in question. In such cases the ancients and schoolmen did not suspect, what otherwise they carefully watched for, viz. ambiguities: not Plato, though his Comparisons and Abstractions preparatory to Induction are perfect; not even Bacon, in his speculations on Heat. Hence have sprung the various vain attempts to trace a common idea in all the uses of a word, such as Cause (Efficient, Material, Formal, and Final Cause), the Good, the Fit.

When a term is applied to many different objects agreeing all only in one quality (e.g. things beautiful, in agreeableness), though most agree in something besides, it is better to exclude part of the denotation than of the connotation, however indistinct: else language ceases to keep alive old experience, alien perhaps to present tendencies. In any case, words are always in danger of losing part of their connotation. For, just one or two out of a complex cluster of ideas, and sometimes merely the look or sound of the word itself, is often all that is absolutely necessary for the suggesting another set of ideas to continue the process of thought; and consequently, some metaphysicians have even fancied that all reasoning is but the mechanical use of terms according to a certain form. If persons be not of active imaginations, the only antidote against the propensity to let slip the connotation of names, is the habit of predicating of them the properties connoted; though even the propositions themselves, as may be seen from the way in which maxims of Religion, Ethics, and Politics are used, are often repeated merely mechanically, not being questioned, but also not being felt. Much of our knowledge recorded in words is ever oscillating between its tendency, in consequence of different generations attending exclusively to different properties in names, to become partially dormant, and the counter-efforts of individuals, at times, to revive it by tracing the forgotten properties historically in the almost mechanically repeated formulas of propositions; and, when they have been there rediscovered, promulgating them, not as discoveries, but with authority as what men still profess to believe. The danger is, lest the formula itself be dismissed by clear-headed narrow-minded logicians, and the connotation fixed by them (in order that the denotation may be extended) in accordance with the present use of the term. Then, if the truths be at any time rediscovered, the prejudice is against them as novelties. The selfish theory of morals partly fell because the inconsistency of received formulas with it prompted a reconsideration of its basis. What would have been the result if the formulas attaching odium to selfishness, praise to self-sacrifice, had been dismissed, if this indeed had been possible! Language, in short, is the depositary of all experience, which, being the inheritance of posterity, we have a right to vary, but none to curtail. We may improve the conclusions of our ancestors; we should not let drop any of their premisses; we may alter a word's connotation; but we must not destroy part of it.