CHAPTER I.
THE SYNTHETIC PROCESS—GENERALIZATION.
§ I.—Nature of the Synthetic Process.
Our Conceptions often Complex.—If we examine attentively the various notions or conceptions of the mind, we find that a large part of them are in a sense complex—comprising, in a word, a certain aggregate of properties, which, taken together, constitute our conception of the object. Thus, my notion of table, or chair, or desk, is made up of several conceptions, of form, size, material, color, hardness, weight, use, etc., etc., all which, taken together, constitute my notion of the object thus designated.
Originally given as discrete.—These several elements that enter into the composition of our conceptions of objects, it is further to be noticed, are, in the first instance, given us in perception, not as a complex whole, but as discrete elements. Thus, sight gives us form and color; touch gives us extension, hardness, smoothness, etc.; muscular resistance gives us weight, and so, by the various senses, we gather the several properties which make up our cognizance of the object, and which, taken together, constitute our conception of it.
Conceptions of Classes.—But a large part of our conceptions, if we carefully observe the operations of our own minds, are not particular, but general, not of individual objects, but of classes of objects. Of this, any one may satisfy himself on a little reflection. How are these conceptions formed?
Such Conceptions, how formed.—The process of forming a general conception, I take to be this: The several elements that compose our conception of an individual object, being originally presented, as we have already said, one by one, in the discrete, and not in the concrete, it is of course in our power to conceive of any one of these elements by itself. No new power or faculty is needed for this. By the usual laws of suggestion any one of these elements may be presented to the mind, distinct from those with which, in perception, it is associated, and as such it may be the object of attention and thought. I may thus conceive of the color, the form, the size, or the fragrance of a flower.
Extension of the Process to other Objects.—It is of the form, color, etc., of some particular flower, as yet, however, and not of form and color in general, that I conceive. Suppose, now, that other flowers are presented to my notice, possessing the same form and color, for example, red. Presently I observe other objects, besides flowers, that are of the same color—horses, cows, tables, books, cloths. As the field of observation enlarges, still other objects are added to the list, until that which I first conceived of as the peculiar property of a single flower, the rose, and of a single specimen, no longer is appropriated in my thoughts to any individual object or class of objects, but becomes a general conception. It is an abstraction and also a generalization; an abstraction because it no longer denotes or connotes any individual object, but stands before the mind as simple, pure quality, red, or redness; a generalization inasmuch as it is a quality pertaining equally to a great variety of objects.
The Process carried still further.—Having thus obtained the general conception of red, and, in like manner, of blue, violet, yellow, indigo, orange, etc., etc., I may carry the process still further, and form a conception more general than either, and which shall include all these. These are all varieties denoting the certain peculiarity of appearance which external objects present to the eye. Fixing my thought upon this, their common characteristic, I no longer conceive of red, or blue, or violet, as such, but of color in general.
In like manner, I observe the properties of different triangles—right-angled, obtuse-angled, acute-angled, equilateral, isosceles. I leave out of view whatever is peculiar to each of these varieties, retaining only what is common to them all—the property of three-sidedness; and my conception is now a general one—triangle.
It is in this manner that we form the conceptions expressed by such terms as animal, man, virtue, form, beauty, and the like. A large proportion of the words in ordinary use, are of this sort. They are the names or expressions of abstract, general, conceptions: abstract, in that they do not relate to any individual object; general, in that they comprehend, and are equally applicable to a great variety of objects.
Process of Classification.—The process of classification is essentially the same with that by which we form general abstract conceptions. Observing different objects, I find that they resemble each other in certain respects, while in others they differ. Objects A, B, and C, differ, for instance, in form, and size, and weight, and fragrance, but agree in some other respect, as in color. On the ground of this resemblance, I class them together in my conceptions. In so doing, I leave out of view all other peculiarities, the points in which they differ, and take into account only the one circumstance in which they agree. In the very act of forming a class, I have formed a general conception, which lies at the basis of that classification.
Tendency of the Mind.—The tendency of the mind to group individual objects together on the ground of perceived resemblances, is very strong, and must be regarded as one of the universal and instinctive propensities of our nature, one of the laws of mental action. As we have already remarked, respecting general abstract terms, a large portion of the language of ordinary life is the language of classification. The words which constitute by far the greater part of the names of things, are common nouns, that is, names of classes. The names of individual objects are comparatively few. Adjectives, specifying the qualities of objects, denote groups or classes possessing that common quality. Adverbs qualifying verbs or adjectives, designate varieties or classes of action and of quality. Indeed, the very existence of language as a medium of communication, and means of expression, involves and depends upon this tendency of the mind to class together, and then to designate by a common noun, objects diverse in reality, but agreeing in some prominent points of resemblance. In no other way would language be possible to man, since, to designate each individual object by a name peculiar to itself, would be an undertaking altogether impracticable.
Rudeness of the earlier Attempts.—The first efforts of the mind at the process of classification are, doubtless, rude and imperfect. The infancy of the individual, and the infancy of nations and races, are, in this respect, alike; objects are grouped roughly and in the mass, specific differences are overlooked, and individuals differing widely and essentially are thrown into the same class, on the ground of some observed and striking resemblance. As observation becomes more minute, and the mind advances in culture and power of discrimination, these ruder generalizations are either abandoned or subdivided into genera and species, and the process assumes a scientific form. What was at first mere classification, becomes now, in the strictest sense, generalization.
Scientific Classification.—Classification, however scientific, is still essentially the process already described. We observe a number of individuals, for example, of our own species. Certain resemblances and differences strike us. Some have straight hair, and copper complexion, others, woolly hair, and black complexion, others, again, differ from the preceding in both these respects. Neglecting minor and specific differences, we fix our attention on the grand points of resemblance, and thus form a general conception, which embraces whatever characteristics belong, in common, to the several individuals which thus resemble each other. To this general conception we appropriate the name Indian, Negro, Caucasian, etc., which henceforth represent to us so many classes or varieties of the human race. Bringing these classes again into comparison with each other, we observe certain points of resemblance between them, and form a conception still more general, that of man.
Further Illustration of the same Process.—In this way the genera and species of science are formed. On grounds of observed resemblance, we class together, for example, certain animals. They differ from each other in color, size, and many other respects, but agree in certain characteristics which we find invariable, as, for example, the form of the skeleton, number of vertebræ, number and form of teeth, arrangement of organs of digestion. We give a name to the class thus formed—carnivora, rodentia, etc. The class thus formed and named, we term the genus, while the minor differences mark the subordinate varieties or species included under the genus. In the same way, comparing other animals, we form other genera. Bringing the several genera also into comparison, we find them likewise agreeing in certain broad resemblances. These points of agreement, in turn, constitute the elements of a conception and classification still wider and more comprehensive than the former. Under this new conception I unite the previous genera, and term them all mammalia. And so on to the highest and widest generalizations of science.
Having formed our classification we refer any new specimen to some one of the classes already formed, and the more complete our original survey, the more correct is this process of individual arrangement. It is remarked by Mr. Stewart, that the islanders of the Pacific, who had never seen any species of quadruped, except the hog and the goat, naturally inferred, when they saw a cow, that she must belong to one or the other of these classes. The limitations of human knowledge may lead the wisest philosopher into essentially the same error.
It is in the way now described that we form genera, and species, and the various classes into which, for purposes of science, we divide the multitude of objects which are presented in nature, and which, but for this faculty, would appear to us but a confused and chaotic assemblage without number, order, or arrangement. The individuals exist in nature—not the classes, and orders, and species: these are the creations of the human mind, conceptions of the brain, results of that process of thought now described as the reflective faculty in its synthetic form.
Importance of this Process.—It is evident at a glance that this process lies at the foundation of all science. Had we no power of generalization—had we no power of separating, in our thoughts, the quality from the substance to which it pertains, of going beyond the concrete to the abstract, beyond the particular to the general—could we deal only with individual existences, neither comparison nor classification would be possible; each particular individual object would be a study to us by itself, nor would any amount of diligence ever carry us beyond the very alphabet of knowledge.
Existence of general Conceptions questioned.—Important as this faculty may seem when thus regarded, it has been questioned by some whether, after all, we have, in fact, or can have, any general abstract ideas; whether triangle, man, animal, etc., suggest in reality any thing more to the mind than simply some particular man, or triangle, or animal, which we take to represent the whole class to which the individual belongs.
There can be no question, however, that we do distinguish in our minds the thought of some particular man, as Mr. A, or some particular sort of man, as black man, white man, from the thought suggested by the term man; and the thought of an isosceles or right-angled triangle, from the thought suggested by the unqualified term triangle. They do not mean the same thing; they have not the same value to our minds. Now there are a great multitude of such general terms in every language, they have a definite meaning and value, and we know what they mean. It must be then that we have general abstract ideas, or general conceptions.
Argument of the Nominalist.—But the nominalist replies. The term man, or triangle, awakens in your mind, in reality and directly, only the idea of some particular individual or triangle, and this stands as a sort of type or representation of other like individuals of whom you do not definitely think as such and so many. I reply, this cannot be shown; but even if it were so, the very language of the objection implies the power of having general conceptions. If the individual man or triangle thought of stands as a type or representation, as it is said, of a great number of similar men and triangles, then is there not already in my mind, prior to this act of representation, the idea of a class of objects, arranged according to the law of resemblance, in other words, a general abstract idea or conception? If I had not already formed such an idea, the particular object presented to my thoughts could not stand as type or representation of any such thing, or of any thing beyond itself, for the simple reason that there would be nothing of the sort to represent.
Further Reply.—Besides, there is a large class of general terms to which this reasoning of the nominalist would not at all apply—such terms as virtue, vice, knowledge, wisdom, truth, time, space—which manifestly do not awaken in the mind the thought of any particular virtue or vice, any particular truth, any definite time, any definite space, but a general notion under which all particular instances may be included. To this the nominalist will perhaps reply, that in such cases we are really thinking, after all, of mere names or signs, as when we use the algebraic formula x-y, a mere term of convenience, having indeed some value, we do not know precisely what, itself the terminus and object of our thought for the time being. In such cases the mind stops, he would say, with the term itself, and does not go beyond it to conjure up a general conception for it. So it is with the terms virtue, vice; so with the general terms, class, species, genus, man, animal, triangle; they are mere collective terms, signs, formulas of convenience, to which you attach no more meaning than to the expression x-y. If you would find their meaning and attach any definite idea to them, you must resolve them into the particular objects, the particular vices, virtues, etc., which go to make up the class.
I reply to all this, you are still classifying, still forming a general conception, the expression of which is your so called formula, x-y, alias virtue, man, and the like.
§ II.—Province and Relation of several Terms employed to denote, in Part, or as a Whole, this Power of the Mind.
We are now prepared to consider the proper province and relation of several terms frequently employed, with considerable latitude and diversity of meaning, to denote, in part, or as a whole, the process now described. Such are the terms abstraction, generalization, classification, and judgment.
I. Abstraction.
Term often used in a Wide Sense.—This term is frequently employed to denote the entire synthetic process as now described—the power of forming abstract general conceptions, and of classifying objects according to those conceptions. It is thus employed by Stewart, Wayland, Mahan, and others. There is, perhaps, no objection to this use of the word, except that it is manifestly a departure from the strict and proper sense of the term.
More limited Sense.—There is another and more common use of the term abstraction, which gives it a more limited sense. As thus employed, it denotes that act of the mind by which we fix our attention on some one of the several parts, properties, or qualities of an object, to the exclusion of all the other parts or properties which go to make up the complex whole. In consequence of this exclusive direction of the thoughts to that one element, the other elements or properties are lost sight of, drop out of the account, and there remains in our present conception only that one item which we have singled out from the rest. This is denominated, in common language, abstraction. Such is the common idea and definition of that term. It is Mr. Upham's definition.
This not really Abstraction.—Whether this, again, is the true idea of abstraction, is, to say the least, questionable. When I think of the cover of a book, the handle of a door, the spring of a watch, in distinction from the other parts which make up a complex whole, I am hardly exercising the power of abstract thought; certainly no new, distinct faculty is requisite for this, but simply attention to one among several items or objects of perception. Hardly ever can it be called analysis, with Wayland. It is the simple direction of the thought to some one out of several objects presented. A red rose is before me. I may think of its color exclusively, in distinction from its form and fragrance; that is, of the redness of this particular rose, this given surface before me. The object of my thought is purely a sensible object. I have not abstracted it from the sensible individual object to which it belongs. It is in no sense an abstract idea, a pure conception. There has been nothing done which is not done in any case where one thing, rather than another of a group or assemblage of objects, is made the object of attention.
The true Nature of Abstraction.—But suppose now that instead of thinking of the redness of this rose in particular, I think of the color red in general, without reference to the rose or any other substance; or, to carry the process further, of color in general, without specifying in my thought any particular color, evidently I am dealing now with abstractions. I have in my thought drawn away (abstraho) the color from the substance to which it belongs, from all substance, and it stands forth by itself a pure conception, an abstraction, having, as such, no existence save in my mind, but there it does exist a definite object of contemplation. The form of mental activity now described, I should call abstraction. It is not necessary, perhaps, to assign it a place as a distinct faculty of the mind. It is, in reality, a part, and an important part, of the synthetic process already described. But it is not the whole of that process, and the term abstraction should not, therefore, in strict propriety, at least as now defined, be applied as a general term to designate that class of mental operations. The synthetic process involves something more than mere abstraction; viz.:
II. Classification As Distinguished From Generalization.
Classification.—When the general idea or conception has been formed in the mind, we proceed to bring together and arrange, on the basis of that general conception, whatever individual objects seem to us to fall under that general rule. This we call classification. Thus, forming first the abstract, or general conception red, we bring together in our thought a variety of objects to which this conception is applicable, as red horses, red flowers, red books, red tables, etc., etc., thus forming classes of objects on the ground of this common property. The difference between classification and generalization, in so far as they are not synonymous, I take to be simply this, that in the former we group and arrange objects according to no general law, but mere appearance or resemblance, often, therefore, on fanciful or arbitrary grounds while in the latter case, we proceed according to some general and scientific principle or law of classification, making only those distinctions the basis of our arrangement which are founded in nature, and are at once invariable and essential.
III. Judgment as Related to Classification.
Judgment.—We have already spoken of that specific process by which, having formed a given conception, or a given rule, we bring the individual objects of perception and thought under that rule, or reject them from it, according as they agree or disagree with the conception we have formed. The process itself we have called classification. The mental activity thus employed is technically termed judgment—the power of subsuming, under a given notion or conception, the particular objects which properly belong there. Thus, the botanist, as he meets with new plants, and the ornithologist, as he discovers new varieties of birds, refers them at once to the family, the genus, the species to which they belong. His mind runs over the generic types of the several classes and orders into which all plants and birds are divided, he perceives that his new specimen answers to the characteristic features of one of these families, or classes, and not to those of the others, and he accordingly assigns it a place under one, and excludes it from the rest. So doing, he exercises judgment. All classification involves and depends upon this power; closely viewed, the action of the mind, in the exercise of this power, amounts simply to this, the perception of agreement or disagreement between two objects of thought. In the case supposed, the genus or species, as described by those who have treated of the particular science, is one of the objects contemplated; the next specimen of plant or bird, as carefully observed and studied, is the other. These two objects of thought are compared; the one is perceived to agree or not to agree with the other; and on the ground of this agreement or disagreement, the classification is made. This perception of agreement in such a case is an act of judgment, so called.
Not a distinct Faculty.—The form of mental activity now described, is hardly to be ranked as a distinct faculty of the mind, although it has been not unfrequently so treated by writers on mental science. It enters more or less fully into all mental operations; like consciousness and attention, it is, to some extent, involved in the exercise of all the faculties, and cannot, therefore, be ranked, with propriety, as coördinate with them. It is not confined to the investigations of science, but is an activity constantly exercised by all men. We have in our minds a multitude of general conceptions, the result of previous observation and thought. Every moment some new object presents itself. With the quickness of thought, we find its place among the conceptions already in the mind: it agrees with this, it is incompatible with that, it belongs with the one, it is excluded from the other. This is the form of most of our thinking; indeed, no small part of our mental activity consists in this perception of agreements and disagreements, and in the referring of some particular object of experience, some individual conception, to the class or general conception under which it properly belongs. The expression of such a judgment is a proposition. We think in propositions, which are only judgments mentally expressed. We discourse in propositions, which are judgments orally expressed. We cannot frame a proposition which does not affirm, or deny, or call in question, something of something.
Judgment in relation to Knowledge.—Are judgment and knowledge identical? Is all knowledge only some form of judgment? So Kant, Tissot, and other writers of that school, would affirm. "Judgment is the principal operation of the mind, since it is concerned in all knowledge properly so called." "All our knowledges are judgments. To know, is to distinguish, and to distinguish, is at once to affirm, and to deny." Such was also Dr. Reid's doctrine, in opposition to Locke, who distinguished between knowledge and judgment. Reid, on the contrary, regards knowledge as only one class of judgments, namely, those about which we are most positive and certain. According to this view, judgment seems to cover the whole field of mental activity. Sir William Hamilton thus regards it. We cannot even experience a sensation, he maintains, without the mental affirmation or judgment that we are thus and thus affected.
Common Speech distinguishes them.—It must be admitted, however, that in common use there is a distinction between knowing and judging, the one implying the comparative certainty of the thing known, the other implying some room and ground for doubt, the existence of opinion and belief, rather than of positive knowledge. The word itself, both in its primitive signification, and its derivation, indicating, as it does, the decision by legal tribunal of doubtful cases, favors this usage. That an exercise of judgment is, strictly speaking, involved in all knowledge, is, nevertheless true, since, to know that a thing is thus and thus, and not otherwise, is to distinguish it from other things, and that is to judge.
§ III.—Historical Sketch.
The Realist and Nominalist Controversy.
The Question at Issue.—No question has been more earnestly and even more bitterly discussed, in the whole history of philosophical inquiry, than the point at issue between the Realist and Nominalist, as to what is the precise object of thought when we form an abstract general conception. When I use the term man, for example, is it a mere name, and nothing more, or is there a real existence corresponding to that name, or is it neither a mere name on the one hand, nor, on the other, a real existence, but a conception of my own mind, which is the object of thought? These three answers can be made, these three doctrines held, and essentially only these three. Each has been actually maintained with great ability and acuteness. The names by which the three doctrines are respectively designated are, Realism, Nominalism, and Conceptualism.
Early History of Realism.—Of these doctrines, the former, Realism, was the first to develop itself. To say nothing of the ancients, we find traces of it in modern philosophy, as early as the ninth century. Indeed, it would seem to have been the prevalent doctrine, though not clearly and sharply defined; a belief, as Tissot has well expressed it, "spontaneous, blind, and without self-consciousness." John Scotus Erigena, and St. Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, both philosophers of note, together with many others of less distinction, in the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries, were prominent Realists. The Platonic view may, in fact, be said to have prevailed down to that period. The early fathers of the Christian Church were strongly tinged with Platonism, and the Realistic theory accordingly very naturally engrafted itself upon the philosophy of the middle ages. The logical and the ontological, existence as mere thought of the mind, and existence as reality, were not distinguished by the leading minds of those centuries. The reality of the thought as thought, and the reality of an actual existence, corresponding to that thought, were confounded the one with the other. As the rose of which I conceive has existence apart from my conception, so man, plant, tree, animal, are realities, and not mere conceptions of the mind.
Rise of Nominalism.—It was not till nearly the close of the eleventh century, that the announcement of the opposite doctrine was distinctly made, in opposition to the prevalent views. This was done by Roscelinus, who maintained that universal and general ideas have no objective reality; that the only reality is that of the individuals comprised under these genera; that there are no such existences as man, animal, beauty, virtue, etc.; that generality is only a pure form given by the mind to the matter of its ideas, a pure abstraction, a mere name.
In this we have the opposite extreme of Realism. If the Realist went too far in affirming the objective reality of his conception, the Nominalist erred on the other in overlooking its subjective reality as a mode or state of the mind, and reducing it to a mere name.
Dispute becomes theological.—The dispute now, unfortunately, but almost inevitably, became theological. The Realist accused the Nominalist of virtually denying the doctrine of the Trinity, inasmuch as, according to him, the idea of Trinity is only an abstraction, and there is no Being corresponding to that idea. To this, Roscelinus replied, with at least equal force and truth, that on the same ground the Realist denied the doctrine of divine unity, by holding a doctrine utterly incompatible with it. Roscelinus, however was defeated, if not in argument, at least by numbers and authority, and was condemned by council at the close of the eleventh century.
Rise of Conceptualism.—It was about this time, that Abelard, pupil of Roscelinus, proposed a modified view of the matter, avoiding the extreme position both of the Realist and the Nominalist party, and allowing the subjective, but not the objective reality, of general ideas. This is substantially the doctrine of Conceptualism. The general abstract idea of man, rose, mountain, etc., has indeed no existence or reality as an external object, nor is there among external objects any thing corresponding to this idea; but it has, nevertheless, a reality and existence as a thought, a conception of my mind.
Prevalence of Realism during the twelfth and thirteenth Centuries.—The doctrine, as thus modified, gained some prevalence, but was condemned by successive councils and by the Pope. Sustained by such authority, as well as by the names of men greatly distinguished for learning and philosophy, Realism prevailed over its antagonists during the latter part of the twelfth and the whole of the thirteenth century. The fourteenth witnessed again the rise and spread of the Conceptualist theory, under the leadership of Occam. The dispute was bitter, leading to strife and even blood.
Later History of the Discussion.—In the seventeenth century we find Hobbes, Hume, and Berkley advocating the doctrine of the Nominalists, while Price maintains the side of Realism. Locke and Reid were Conceptualists, Stewart a Nominalist.