On the Philosophy of Discovery, Chapters Historical and Critical

CHAPTER XVI.
Additional Remarks on Francis Bacon

Francis Bacon and his works have recently been discussed and examined by various writers in France and Germany as well as England¹⁹⁷. Not to mention smaller essays, M. Bouillet has published a valuable edition of his philosophical works; Count Joseph de Maistre wrote a severe critique of his philosophy, which has been published since the death of the author; M. Charles Remusat has written a lucid and discriminating Essay on the subject; and in England we have had a new edition of the works published, with a careful and thoughtful examination of the philosophy which they contain, written by one of the editors: a person especially fitted for such an examination by an acute intellect, great acquaintance with philosophical literature, and a wide knowledge of modern science. Robert Leslie Ellis, the editor of whom I speak, died during the publication of the edition, and before he had done full justice to his powers; but he had already written various dissertations on Bacon's philosophy, which accompany the different Treatises in the new edition.

Mr. Ellis has given a more precise view than any of his predecessors had done of the nature of Bacon's induction and of his philosophy of discovery. Bacon's object was to discover the 'natures' or essences of things, in order that he might reproduce these natures or essences at will; he conceived that these natures were limited in number, and manifested in various combinations in the bodies which exist in the universe; so that by accumulating observations of them in a multitude of cases, we may learn by induction in what they do and in what they do not consist; the Induction which is to be used for this purpose consists in a great measure of excluding the cases which do not exhibit the 'nature' in question; and by such exclusion, duly repeated, we have at last left in our hands the elements of which the proposed nature consists. And the knowledge which is thus obtained may be applied to reproduce the things so analysed. As exhibiting this view clearly we may take a passage in the Sylva Sylvarum: "Gold has these natures: greatness of weight, closeness of parts, fixation, pliantness or softness, immunity from rust, colour or tincture of yellow. Therefore the sure way, though most about, to make gold, is to know the causes of the several natures before rehearsed, and the axioms concerning the same. For if a man can make a metal, that hath all these properties, let men dispute whether it be gold or no." He means that however they dispute, it is gold for all practical purposes.

For such an Induction as this, Bacon claims the merit both of being certain, and of being nearly independent of the ingenuity of the inquirer. It is a method which enables all men to make exact discoveries, as a pair of compasses enables all men to draw an exact circle.

Now it is necessary for us, who are exploring the progress of the true philosophy of discovery, to say plainly that this part of Bacon's speculation is erroneous and valueless. No scientific discovery ever has been made in this way. Men have not obtained truths concerning the natural world by seeking for the natures of things, and by extracting them from phenomena by rejecting the cases in which they were not. On the contrary, they have begun by ascertaining the laws of the phenomena; and have then gone on, not by a mechanical method which levels all intellect, but by special efforts of the brightest intellects to catch hold of the ideas by which these laws of phenomena might be interpreted and expressed in more general terms. These two steps, the finding the laws of phenomena, and finding the conceptions by which those laws can be expressed, are really the course of discovery, as the history of science exhibits it to us.

Bacon, therefore, according to the view now presented, was wrong both as to his object and as to his method. He was wrong in taking for his object the essences of things,—the causes of abstract properties: for these man cannot, or can very rarely discover; and all Bacon's ingenuity in enumerating and classifying these essences and abstract properties has led, and could lead, to no result. The vast results of modern science have been obtained, not by seeking and finding the essences of things, but by exploring the laws of phenomena and the causes of those laws.

And Bacon's method, as well as his object, is vitiated by a pervading error:—the error of supposing that to be done by method which must be done by mind;—that to be done by rule which must be done by a flight beyond rule;—that to be mainly negative which is eminently positive;—that to depend on other men which must depend on the discoverer himself;—that to be mere prose which must have a dash of poetry;—that to be a work of mere labour which must be also a work of genius.

Mr. Ellis has seen very clearly and explained very candidly that this method thus recommended by Bacon has not led to discovery. "It is," he says, "neither to the technical part of his method nor to the details of his view of the nature and progress of science, that his great fame is justly owing. His merits are of another kind. They belong to the spirit rather than to the positive precepts of his philosophy."

As the reader of the last chapter will see, this amounts to much the same as the account which I had given of the positive results of Bacon's method, and the real value of that portion of his philosophy which he himself valued most. But still there remain, as I have also noted, portions of Bacon's speculations which have a great and enduring value, namely, his doctrine that Science is the Interpretation of Nature, his distinction of this Interpretation of Nature from the vicious and premature Anticipation of Nature which had generally prevailed till then; and the recommendation of a graduated and successive induction by which alone the highest and most general truths were to be reached. These are points which he urges with great clearness and with great earnestness; and these are important points in the true philosophy of discovery.

I may add that Mr. Ellis agrees with me in noting the invention of the conception by which the laws of phenomena are interpreted as something additional to Induction, both in the common and in the Baconian sense of the word. He says (General Preface, Art. 9), "In all cases this process [scientific discovery] involves an element to which nothing corresponds in the Tables of Comparence and Exclusion; namely the application to the facts of a principle of arrangement, an idea, existing in the mind of the discoverer antecedently to the act of induction." It may be said that this principle or idea is aimed at in the Baconian analysis. "And this is in one sense true: but it must be added, that this analysis, if it be thought right to call it so, is of the essence of the discovery which results from it. To take for granted that it has been already effected is simply a petitio principii. In most cases the mere act of induction follows as a matter of course as soon as the appropriate idea has been introduced." And as an example he takes Kepler's invention of the ellipse, as the idea by which Mars's motions could be reduced to law; making the same use of this example which we have repeatedly made of it.

Mr. Ellis may at first sight appear to express himself more favourably than I have done, with regard to the value of Bacon's Inquisitio in Naturam Calidi in the Second Book of the Novum Organon. He says of one part of it¹⁹⁸: "Bacon here anticipates not merely the essential character of the most recent theory of heat, but also the kind of evidence by which it has been established.... The merit of having perceived the true significance of the production of heat by friction belongs of right to Bacon."

But notwithstanding this, Mr. Ellis's general judgment on this specimen of Bacon's application of his own method does not differ essentially from mine. He examines the Inquisitio at some length, and finally says: "If it were affirmed that Bacon, after having had a glimpse of the truth suggested by some obvious phenomena, had then recourse, as he himself expresses it, to certain 'differentiæ inanes' in order to save the phenomena, I think it would be hard to dispute the truth of the censure."

Another of the Editors of this edition (Mr. Spedding) fixes his attention upon another of the features of the method of discovery proposed by Bacon, and is disposed to think that the proposed method has never yet had justice done it, because it has not been tried in the way and on the scale that Bacon proposes¹⁹⁹. Bacon recommended that a great collection of facts should be at once made and accumulated, regarding every branch of human knowledge; and conceived that, when this had been done by common observers, philosophers might extract scientific truths from this mass of facts by the application of a right method. This separation of the offices of the observer and discoverer, Mr. Spedding thinks is shown to be possible by such practical examples as meteorological observations, made by ordinary observers, and reduced to tables and laws by a central calculator; by hydrographical observations made by ships provided with proper instructions, and reduced to general laws by the man of science in his study; by magnetical observations made by many persons in every part of the world, and reduced into subservience to theory by mathematicians at home.

And to this our reply will be, in the terms which the history of all the Sciences has taught us, that such methods of procedure as this do not belong to the Epoch of Discovery, but to the Period of verification and application of the discovery which follows. When a theory has been established in its general form, our knowledge of the distribution of its phenomena in time and space can be much promoted by ordinary observers scattered over the earth, and succeeding each other in time, provided they are furnished with instruments and methods of observation, duly constructed on the principles of science; but such observers cannot in any degree supersede the discoverer who is first to establish the theory, and to introduce into the facts a new principle of order. When the laws of nature have been caught sight of, much may be done, even by ordinary observers, in verifying and exactly determining them; but when a real discovery is to be made, this separation of the observer and the theorist is not possible. In those cases, the questioning temper, the busy suggestive mind, is needed at every step, to direct the operating hand or the open gaze. No possible accumulation of facts about mixture and heat, collected in the way of blind trial, could have led to the doctrines of chemistry, or crystallography, or the atomic theory, or voltaic and chemical and magnetic polarity, or physiology, or any other science. Indeed not only is an existing theory requisite to supply the observer with instruments and methods, but without theory he cannot even describe his observations. He says that he mixes an acid and an alkali; but what is an acid? What is an alkali? How does he know them? He classifies crystals according to their forms: but till he has learnt what is distinctive in the form of a crystal, he cannot distinguish a cube from a square prism, even if he had a goniometer and could use it. And the like impossibility hangs over all the other subjects. To report facts for scientific purposes without some aid from theory, is not only useless, but impossible.

When Mr. Spedding says, "I could wish that men of science would apply themselves earnestly to the solution of this practical problem: What measures are to be taken in order that the greatest variety of judicious observations of nature all over the world may be carried on in concert upon a common plan and brought to a common centre:"—he is urging upon men of science to do what they have always done, so far as they have had any power, and in proportion as the state of science rendered such a procedure possible and profitable to science. In Astronomy, it has been done from the times of the Greeks and even of the Chaldeans, having been begun as soon as the heavens were reduced to law at all. In meteorology, it has been done extensively, though to little purpose, because the weather has not yet been reduced to rule. Men of science have shown how barometers, thermometers, hygrometers, and the like, may be constructed; and these may be now read by any one as easily as a clock; but of ten thousand meteorological registers thus kept by ordinary observers, what good has come to science? Again: The laws of the tides have been in a great measure determined by observations in all parts of the globe, because theory pointed out what was to be observed. In like manner the facts of terrestrial magnetism were ascertained with tolerable completeness by extended observations, then, and then only, when a most recondite and profound branch of mathematics had pointed out what was to be observed, and most ingenious instruments had been devised by men of science for observing. And even with these, it requires an education to use the instruments. But in many cases no education in the use of instruments devised by others can supersede the necessity of a theoretical and suggestive spirit in the inquirer himself. He must devise his own instruments and his own methods, if he is to make any discovery. What chemist, or inquirer about polarities, or about optical laws yet undiscovered, can make any progress by using another man's experiments and observations? He must invent at every step of his observation; and the observer and theorist can no more be dissevered, than the body and soul of the inquirer.

That persons of moderate philosophical powers may, when duly educated, make observations which may be used by greater discoverers than themselves, is true. We have examples of such a subordination of scientific offices in astronomy, in geology, and in many other departments. But still, as I have said, a very considerable degree of scientific education is needed even for the subordinate labourers in science; and the more considerable in proportion as science advances further and further; since every advance implies a knowledge of what has already been done, and requires a new precision or generality in the new points of inquiry.

CHAPTER XVII.
From Bacon to Newton

1. Harvey.—We have already seen that Bacon was by no means the first mover or principal author of the revolution in the method of philosophizing which took place in his time; but only the writer who proclaimed in the most impressive and comprehensive manner, the scheme, the profit, the dignity, and the prospects of the new philosophy. Those, therefore, who after him, took up the same views are not to be considered as his successors, but as his fellow-labourers; and the line of historical succession of opinions must be pursued without special reference to any one leading character, as the principal figure of the epoch. I resume this line, by noticing a contemporary and fellow-countryman of Bacon, Harvey, the discoverer of the circulation of the blood. This discovery was not published and generally accepted till near the end of Bacon's life; but the anatomist's reflections on the method of pursuing science, though strongly marked with the character of the revolution that was taking place, belong to a very different school from the Chancellor's. Harvey was a pupil of Fabricius of Acquapendente, whom we noticed among the practical reformers of the sixteenth century. He entertained, like his master, a strong reverence for the great names which had ruled in philosophy up to that time, Aristotle and Galen; and was disposed rather to recommend his own method by exhibiting it as the true interpretation of ancient wisdom, than to boast of its novelty. It is true, that he assigns, as his reason for publishing some of his researches²⁰⁰, "that by revealing the method I use in searching into things, I might propose to studious men, a new and (if I mistake not) a surer path to the attainment of knowledge²⁰¹;" but he soon proceeds to fortify himself with the authority of Aristotle. In doing this, however, he has the very great merit of giving a living and practical character to truths which exist in the Aristotelian works, but which had hitherto been barren and empty professions. We have seen that Aristotle had asserted the importance of experience as one root of knowledge; and in this had been followed by the schoolmen of the middle ages: but this assertion came with very different force and effect from a man, the whole of whose life had been spent in obtaining, by means of experience, knowledge which no man had possessed before. In Harvey's general reflections, the necessity of both the elements of knowledge, sensations and ideas, experience and reason, is fully brought into view, and rightly connected with the metaphysics of Aristotle. He puts the antithesis of these two elements with great clearness. "Universals are chiefly known to us, for science is begot by reasoning from universals to particulars; yet that very comprehension of universals in the understanding springs from the perception of singulars in our sense." Again, he quotes Aristotle's apparently opposite assertions:—that made in his Physics²⁰², "that we must advance from things which are first known to us, though confusedly, to things more distinctly intelligible in themselves; from the whole to the part; from the universal to the particular;" and that made in the Analytics²⁰³; that "Singulars are more known to us and do first exist according to sense: for nothing is in the understanding which was not before in the sense." Both, he says, are true, though at first they seem to clash: for "though in knowledge we begin with sense, sensation itself is a universal thing." This he further illustrates; and quotes Seneca, who says, that "Art itself is nothing but the reason of the work, implanted in the Artist's mind:" and adds, "the same way by which we gain an Art, by the very same way we attain any kind of science or knowledge whatever; for as Art is a habit whose object is something to be done, so Science is a habit whose object is something to be known; and as the former proceedeth from the imitation of examples, so this latter, from the knowledge of things natural. The source of both is from sense and experience; since [but?] it is impossible that Art should be rightly purchased by the one or Science by the other without a direction from ideas." Without here dwelling on the relation of Art and Science, (very justly stated by Harvey, except that ideas exist in a very different form in the mind of the Artist and the Scientist) it will be seen that this doctrine, of science springing from experience with a direction from ideas, is exactly that which we have repeatedly urged, as the true view of the subject. From this view, Harvey proceeds to infer the importance of a reference to sense in his own subject, not only for first discovering, but for receiving knowledge: "Without experience, not other men's but our own, no man is a proper disciple of any part of natural knowledge; without experimental skill in anatomy, he will no better apprehend what I shall deliver concerning generation, than a man born blind can judge of the nature and difference of colours, or one born deaf, of sounds." "If we do otherwise, we may get a humid and floating opinion, but never a solid and infallible knowledge: as is happenable to those who see foreign countries only in maps, and the bowels of men falsely described in anatomical tables. And hence it comes about, that in this rank age, we have many sophisters and bookwrights, but few wise men and philosophers." He had before declared "how unsafe and degenerate a thing it is, to be tutored by other men's commentaries, without making trial of the things themselves; especially since Nature's book is so open and legible." We are here reminded of Galileo's condemnation of the "paper philosophers." The train of thought thus expressed by the practical discoverers, spread rapidly with the spread of the new knowledge that had suggested it, and soon became general and unquestioned.

2. Descartes.—Such opinions are now among the most familiar and popular of those which are current among writers and speakers; but we should err much if we were to imagine that after they were once propounded they were never resisted or contradicted. Indeed, even in our own time, not only are such maxims very often practically neglected or forgotten, but the opposite opinions, and views of science quite inconsistent with those we have been explaining, are often promulgated and widely accepted. The philosophy of pure ideas has its commonplaces, as well as the philosophy of experience. And at the time of which we speak, the former philosophy, no less than the latter, had its great asserter and expounder; a man in his own time more admired than Bacon, regarded with more deference by a large body of disciples all over Europe, and more powerful in stirring up men's minds to a new activity of inquiry. I speak of Descartes, whose labours, considered as a philosophical system, were an endeavour to revive the method of obtaining knowledge by reasoning from our own ideas only, and to erect it in opposition to the method of observation and experiment. The Cartesian philosophy contained an attempt at a counter-revolution. Thus in this author's Principia Philosophiæ²⁰⁴, he says that "he will give a short account of the principal phenomena of the world, not that he may use them as reasons to prove anything; for," adds he, "we desire to deduce effects from causes, not causes from effects; but only in order that out of the innumerable effects which we learn to be capable of resulting from the same causes, we may determine our mind to consider some rather than others." He had before said, "The principles which we have obtained [by pure à priori reasoning] are so vast and so fruitful, that many more consequences follow from them than we see contained in this visible world, and even many more than our mind can ever take a full survey of." And he professes to apply this method in detail. Thus in attempting to state the three fundamental laws of motion, he employs only à priori reasonings, and is in fact led into error in the third law which he thus obtains²⁰⁵. And in his Dioptrics²⁰⁶ he pretends to deduce the laws of reflection and refraction of light from certain comparisons (which are, in truth, arbitrary,) in which the radiation of light is represented by the motion of a ball impinging upon the reflecting or refracting body. It might be represented as a curious instance of the caprice of fortune, which appears in scientific as in other history, that Kepler, professing to derive all his knowledge from experience, and exerting himself with the greatest energy and perseverance, failed in detecting the law of refraction; while Descartes, who professed to be able to despise experiment, obtained the true law of sines. But as we have stated in the History²⁰⁷, Descartes appears to have learnt this law from Snell's papers. And whether this be so or not, it is certain that notwithstanding the profession of independence which his philosophy made, it was in reality constantly guided and instructed by experience. Thus in explaining the Rainbow (in which his portion of the discovery merits great praise) he speaks²⁰⁸ of taking a globe of glass, allowing the sun to shine on one side of it, and noting the colours produced by rays after two refractions and one reflection. And in many other instances, indeed in all that relates to physics, the reasonings and explanations of Descartes and his followers were, consciously or unconsciously, directed by the known facts, which they had observed themselves or learnt from others.

But since Descartes thus, speculatively at least, set himself in opposition to the great reform of scientific method which was going on in his time, how, it may be asked, did he acquire so strong an influence over the most active minds of his time? How is it that he became the founder of a large and distinguished school of philosophers? How is it that he not only was mainly instrumental in deposing Aristotle from his intellectual throne, but for a time appeared to have established himself with almost equal powers, and to have rendered the Cartesian school as firm a body as the Peripatetic had been?

The causes to be assigned for this remarkable result are, I conceive, the following. In the first place, the physicists of the Cartesian school did, as I have just stated, found their philosophy upon experiment, and did not practically, or indeed, most of them, theoretically, assent to their master's boast of showing what the phenomena must be, instead of looking to see what they are. And as Descartes had really incorporated in his philosophy all the chief physical discoveries of his own and preceding times, and had delivered, in a more general and systematic shape than any one before him, the principles which he thus established, the physical philosophy of his school was in reality far the best then current; and was an immense improvement upon the Aristotelian doctrines, which had not yet been displaced as a system. Another circumstance which gained him much favour, was the bold and ostentatious manner in which he professed to begin his philosophy by liberating himself from all preconceived prejudice. The first sentence of his philosophy contains this celebrated declaration: "Since," he says, "we begin life as infants, and have contracted various judgments concerning sensible things before we possess the entire use of our reason, we are turned aside from the knowledge of truth by many prejudices: from which it does not appear that we can be any otherwise delivered, than if once in our life we make it our business to doubt of everything in which we discern the smallest suspicion of uncertainty." In the face of this sweeping rejection or unhesitating scrutiny of all preconceived opinions, the power of the ancient authorities and masters in philosophy must obviously shrink away; and thus Descartes came to be considered as the great hero of the overthrow of the Aristotelian dogmatism. But in addition to these causes, and perhaps more powerful than all in procuring the assent of men to his doctrines, came the deductive and systematic character of his philosophy. For although all knowledge of the external world is in reality only to be obtained from observation, by inductive steps,—minute, perhaps, and slow, and many, as Galileo and Bacon had already taught;—the human mind conforms to these conditions reluctantly and unsteadily, and is ever ready to rush to general principles, and then to employ itself in deducing conclusions from these by synthetical reasonings; a task grateful, from the distinctness and certainty of the result, and the accompanying feeling of our own sufficiency. Hence men readily overlooked the precarious character of Descartes' fundamental assumptions, in their admiration of the skill with which a varied and complex Universe was evolved out of them. And the complete and systematic character of this philosophy attracted men no less than its logical connexion. I may quote here what a philosopher²⁰⁹ of our own time has said of another writer: "He owed his influence to various causes; at the head of which may be placed that genius for system which, though it cramps the growth of knowledge, perhaps finally atones for that mischief by the zeal and activity which it rouses among followers and opponents, who discover truth by accident when in pursuit of weapons for their warfare. A system which attempts a task so hard as that of subjecting vast provinces of human knowledge to one or two principles, if it presents some striking instances of conformity to superficial appearances, is sure to delight the framer; and for a time to subdue and captivate the student too entirely for sober reflection and rigorous examination. In the first instance consistency passes for truth. When principles in some instances have proved sufficient to give an unexpected explanation of facts, the delighted reader is content to accept as true all other deductions from the principles. Specious premises being assumed to be true, nothing more can be required than logical inference. Mathematical forms pass current as the equivalent of mathematical certainty. The unwary admirer is satisfied with the completeness and symmetry of the plan of his house, unmindful of the need of examining the firmness of the foundation and the soundness of the materials. The system-maker, like the conqueror, long dazzles and overawes the world; but when their sway is past, the vulgar herd, unable to measure their astonishing faculties, take revenge by trampling on fallen greatness." Bacon showed his wisdom in his reflections on this subject, when he said that "Method, carrying a show of total and perfect knowledge, hath a tendency to generate acquiescence."

The main value of Descartes' physical doctrines consisted in their being arrived at in a way inconsistent with his own professed method, namely, by a reference to observation. But though he did in reality begin from facts, his system was nevertheless a glaring example of that error which Bacon had called Anticipation; that illicit generalization which leaps at once from special facts to principles of the widest and remotest kind; such, for instance, as the Cartesian doctrine, that the world is an absolute plenum, every part being full of matter of some kind, and that all natural effects depend on the laws of motion. Against this fault, to which the human mind is so prone, Bacon had lifted his warning voice in vain, so far as the Cartesians were concerned; as indeed, to this day, one theorist after another pursues his course, and turns a deaf ear to the Verulamian injunctions; perhaps even complacently boasts that he founds his theory upon observation; and forgets that there are, as the aphorism of the Novum Organon declares, two ways by which this may be done;—the one hitherto in use and suggested by our common tendencies, but barren and worthless; the other almost untried, to be pursued only with effort and self-denial, but alone capable of producing true knowledge.