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wonderful in itself, as any other modification of the suggesting principle. Since the tendencies to suggestion are various, in different minds, the conceptions, which rise according to those tendencies, are of course various ; and with the order of our conceptions, that are felt to be related, the relations which we feel must vary. There may, indeed, be the same conclusion formed, when the intervening conceptions, in the trains of reflection of different individuals, have been different. But it is much more likely, that, when these intervening conceptions, of which the relations are felt, have been different, the conclusion, or ultimate relation which results from the whole, should itself be different; and that men should not agree in opinion, seems, therefore, to be almost a part of the very laws of intellect, on which the simplest phenomena of thought depend. Even by the same individual, as I remarked before, when treating of the Laws of Simple Suggestion, what opposite conclusions are formed on the same subjects, in different circumstances of health and happiness, or of disease and misfortune, and conclusions which are drawn with the same logical justness from the premises, in one case, as in the other. The process of reasoning, which is only the continued feeling of the relations of the conceptions that have arisen by the common laws of suggestion, is equally accurate; but, though the reasoning itself may have been as accurate, the conceptions of which the successive relations have been felt, during the process of reasoning, were different, in consequence of the tendency of the mind in these different states, to suggest different and almost opposite images. This tendency to form, under slight changes of circumstances, opposite conclusions, on the same subjects, is happily illustrated by Chaulieu, the French poet, in some verses, in which he considers himself as viewing nature during a fit of the gout, and of course seeing nothing in it but what is dreadful; when he is surprised to find different views breaking upon him, of beauty in the universe, and benevolence in its Author, and discovers that the change has arisen, not from any greater brightness of the sky, or from any happier objects that surround him, but from the mere cessation of that paroxysm, which had shed, while it lasted, its own darkness on the scene. It is almost as little possible for him, whose train of conceptions is uniformly gloomy, to look upon nature, or, I may say, even upon the God of Nature, in the same light, as that happier mind, which is more disposed to images of joy, as for one, to whose eyes the sunshine has never carried light, to think of the surface of that earth on which he treads, with the same feeling of beauty and admiration, as the multitudes around him, whose eyes are awake to all the colours that adorn it. What is true, in these extreme cases, is not less true in cases that are less remarkable. How few are the opinions of any sort, in which the greater number of mankind concur ; and, even in the case of those opinions, in which they are unanimous, how few, if they were to attempt to support them by argument, would support them by argument precisely similar. All night set out with the same conception, in their primary design; and, if the discovery of the strongest proofs depended on the mere will to discover the strongest, all would instantly, by the exercise of this simple will, be omnipotent logicians. But all are not omnipotent logicians,-for the intermediate conceptions which rise to one mind, do not rise to others; and the relations, therefore, which those intermediate conceptions suggest, are felt, of course, and stated, only by those to whom the conceptions which suggest them have arisen.

The differences of opinion in mankind, then,-far from being wonderful,

-are such, as must have arisen, though there had been no other cause of difference, than the variety of the conceptions, which, by the simple laws of suggestion, occur in the various trains of thought of individuals, diversifying, of course, the order of propositions in their reasonings, and consequently the relation, which the conclusion involves. The objects, compared, at every stage of the argument, have been different; and the results of the comparison of different objects, therefore, cannot well be expected to be the same. I formerly alluded to a whimsical speculation of Diderot, in which he personifies the senses, and makes them members of a society, capable of holding communication with each other, and of discoursing scientifically, on one subject at least, that of numbers, in the calculations of which, he conceives that each of them might become as expert as the most expert arithmeticians. In all their other colloquies, however, it is quite evident that each must appear to the rest absolutely insane; because each must speak of objects in relations, of which the others would be incapable of forming even the slightest "I shall remark only," says Diderot, "that in such a case, the richer any sense was, in notions peculiar to itself, the more extravagant would it appear to the rest,-that the stupidest of the whole would, therefore, infa)libly be the one that would count itself the wisest,-that a sense would seldom be contradicted, except on subjects which it knew the best, and that there always would be four wrong, against the one that was right,—which may serve to give a very fair opinion of the judgments of the multitude."* In the reasonings of mankind, indeed, the sources of difference are not so striking and obvious, as in this allegorical society. But, in many instances, they are nearly as much so; and merely because the same order of propositions, that is to say, the same order of conceptions and relative feelings, has not arisen in the reasonings of the ignorant, they laugh inwardly at the follies and extravagance of the wise, with the same wonder and disdain, with which, in Diderot's fabled society of the senses, the Ear would have listened to the Eye, when it spoke, with calm philosophy, of forms and colours, or which in return, the Eye would have felt for the seeming madness of the Ear, when it raved, in its strange ecstasies, of airs and harmonies.

The different order of propositions, in our trains of reasoning, and consequently, in a great measure, the different results of reasoning,-may, then, it appears, depend on the mere differences of simple suggestion, in consequence of which different relations are felt, because the relative objects suggested to the mind are different. But, in like manner, as there are, in different minds, different tendencies of simple suggestion, there are also in different minds, peculiar tendencies to different relative suggestions, from the contemplation of the same objects. Any two objects may have various relations,and may, therefore, suggest these variously. The same two columns, for example, when we look at the remains of ancient splendour, in some magnificent ruin, may, in the moment of the first suggestion, produce, in our mind, the feeling of their resemblance or difference,-of their relative position,— of their comparative degrees of beauty, of their proportion in dimensions,— or various other relations, that may be easily imagined which connect them, as parts of one whole, with the melancholy traces of present decay, or the still more melancholy vestiges of the flourishing past. In different minds, there is a tendency to feel some of these relations, more than others,—a tendency which may be traced, in part, to original constitutional diversities; but

* Euvres, tom. II. p. 133, 134.

which depends also, in part, on factitious habits, and on transient circumstances of the moment, intellectual or bodily. In short, there are secondary laws of relative suggestion, constitutional, habitual, and temporary, as there are secondary laws of simple suggestion, in like manner, constitutional, habitual, and temporary; and these secondary laws, as well as those of simple suggestion, since they vary the relations which are felt by individuals, and, therefore, the results of reflecting thought, which different individuals present to the world, are unquestionably to be taken into account, in our estimation of diversities of genius,-diversities, that consist both in the variety of the conceptions which arise, and the variety of the relations which those conceptions suggest, and which, as one splendid compound, you are now, I flatter myself, able to reduce to the simple elements that compose it.

From the influence, then, which education has on the tendencies both of simple and relative suggestion, we can, in this way, indirectly produce in part, that sagacity, or ready discovery of means of proof, which I have shown to be absolutely beyond our direct volition. We can continually render ourselves acquainted with more objects, and can thus increase the store of possible suggestions, which may on occasion, present to us new means of proof; and we can even, by the influence of certain habits, so modify the general tendency of suggestion, that certain relations, rather than others, shall rise to the mind, or shall rise, at least, more rapidly and readily. How many arguments occur to a well cultivated understanding, in treating every subject which comes beneath its review, that never would have occurred to others? -and though not one of the separate suggestions, which either strengthen or adorn the reasoning, has been the object of a particular volition,-the general cultivation, from which they all flow, has been willed, and would not have taken place, but for that love of letters and science, which continued to animate the studies which it produced,—making it delightful to know, what it was happiness almost to wish to learn.

These remarks, on the order of propositions, which constitute reasoning, have shown you, I trust, that they depend on tendencies of the mind more lasting than our momentary volitions,--that the relations, which they involve, could not be felt by us, unless we had previously the conceptions, which are the subjects of the relations,—and that it is impossible for us to will any one of these conceptions; since, in that case, the conception must have existed, before it was willed into existence. The conceptions, then, and the feelings of relation, that is to say, the propositions, in the order in which they present themselves to our internal thought,-arise, by the simple laws of suggestion only,-conception suggesting conception, and that which is suggested, being felt to have a relation of some sort to the conception which suggested it.

The laws of simple suggestion, according to which conceptions do not follow each other loosely, but those only which have a certain relation of some sort to each other, furnish, as I have already said, the true explanation of the regularity of our reasonings. While there is a continued desire of discovering the relations of any particular object, it is not wonderful, that with this continued desire, the reasoning should itself be continuous; since the remaining conception of the object, the relations of which we wish to explore, and which must be as permanent, as the permanent desire that involves it, will, of course, suggest the conception of objects related to it; and, therefore, the relations themselves, as subsequent feelings of the mind. If

we wish to discover the proportion of A to D, these conceptions, as long as the very wish which involves them remains, must, by the simple laws of suggestion, excite other conceptions related to them; and in the multitude of relative objects, thus capable of being suggested, it is not wonderful, that there should be some one B or C, which has a common relation to both A and D; and which, therefore, becomes a measure for comparing them, or suggests this very relation without any such intentional comparison. Indeed, since A and D, both conceived together, form one complex feeling of the mind, it might be expected, that the relative objects, most likely to arise by suggestion, would be such as have a common relation to both parts-if I may so term them of the complex feeling, by which they are suggested, the very proofs, or intermediate conceptions, which form the links of our demonstration.

You are aware, that in these remarks, I speak of the series of propositions that arise in our mind when we meditate on any subject, not of the series which we submit, in discourse or in written works, to the consideration of others. Though it is impossible for us, even in these cases, to will a single conception or a single feeling of relation,-since this would be to will into existence that which already exists,—it is, unquestionably, in our power not to clothe in words the conceptions or relations that have arisen in our thought; and, by this mere omission of the parts of our internal series, which we regret as feeble or irrelative to our principal object, the whole series of propositions, as expressed, may seem very different, certainly far more forcible, than that which really passed through our mind, and produced in us that conviction or persuasion which we wish to diffuse. But still it must be remembered, that it is the omission only which makes the difference, and that in the whole series of propositions which we express in language, there is not a single conception or feeling of relation which we have directly willed.

Such is the process of ratiocination, considered as a natural process of the mind. But what are we to think of that art of reasoning, which, for so many ages, banished reason from the schools;-of that art which rendered it so laborious a drudgery, to be a little more ignorant than before, which could produce so much disputation without any subject of dispute, and so many proud victories of nothing over less than nothing! I need not say that it is to the scholastic art of logic I allude.

That there may be, or rather that there is, a rational logic, I am far from denying; and that many useful directions, in conformity with a certain system of rules, may be given to the inexperienced student that may facilitate to him acquisitions of knowledge, which but for such directions, he would have made only more slowly, or perhaps not made at all. The art of reasoning, however, which a judicious logic affords, is not so much the art of acquiring knowledge as the art of communicating it to others, or recording it, in the manner that may be most profitable for our own future advancement in the track which we have been pursuing. Its direct benefit to ourselves is rather negative than positive-teaching us the sources of error in our mental constitution, and in all the accidental circumstances of the language which we are obliged to use, and the society in which we must mingle, and thus rather saving us from what is false, than bestowing on us what is true. In

deed, since we cannot, as I have shown, produce, directly, in our mind, any one conception, or any one feeling of relation, it is very evident that the influence of any art of reasoning on our trains of thought must be indirect only.

But if an art of reasoning is to be given to us, it is surely to be an art which is to render the acquisition of knowledge more easy, not more difficult, an art which is to avail itself of the natural tendency of the mind to the discovery of truth, not to counteract this tendency, and to force the mind, if it be possible, to suspend the very progress which was leading it to truth. With which of these characters did the syllogistic logic more exactly correspond?

The natural progress of reasoning I have already explained to you, and illustrated by examples both of the analytic and proportional kind. One conception follows another conception, according to certain laws of suggestion, to which our Divine Author has adapted our mental constitution; and by another set of laws which the same Divine Author has established, certain feelings of relation arise from the consideration of the suggesting and suggested object. This is all in which reasoning, as felt by us, truly consists. We have the conception of A, it suggests B, and, these two conceptions coexisting, we feel some relation which they bear to each other. B, thus suggested, suggests C; and the relation of these is felt in like manner,-and thus, through the longest ratiocination, analytical or proportional, each subject of our thought suggests something which forms a part of it, and is involved in it, or something which has to it a certain relation of proportion; and the relation of comprehension in the one case, or of proportion in the other case, is felt accordingly at every step. Nothing, surely, can be simpler than a process of this kind; and it is not easy to conceive how the process could be made shorter than nature herself has rendered it, unless every truth were known to us by intuition. Objects, and the relations of objects,-these are all which reasoning involves; and these must always be involved in every reasoning. While reasoning, then, or a series of propositions is necessary for the developement of truth, the intervening conceptions which form the subjects of those propositions that connect one remote conception with another must arise successively in the mind, and their relations be felt, in like manner, successively. What is it which the syllogistic art would confer on us in addition? To shorten the process of arriving at truth, it forces us to use, in every case, three propositions instead of the two which nature directs us to use. Instead of allowing us to say man is fallible-he may therefore err, even when he thinks himself most secure from error-which is the spontaneous order of analysis in reasoning, the syllogistic art compels us to take a longer journey to the same conclusion, by the use of what it calls a major proposition, a proposition which never rises spontaneously, for the best of all reasons, that it cannot rise without our knowledge of the very truth, which is by supposition unknown. To proceed, in the regular form of a syllogism, we must say all beings that are fallible may err, even when they think themselves most secure from error. But man is a fallible being-he may therefore err, even when he thinks himself most secure from error. In our spontaneous reasonings, in which we arrive at precisely the same conclusions, and with a feeling of evidence precisely the same, there are, as I have said, no major propositions, but simply what in this futile art are termed technically the minor and the conclusion. The invention and formal statement of a ma

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