Aphorism XXV.
Art and Science differ. The object of Science is Knowledge; the objects of Art, are Works. In Art, truth is a means to an end; in Science, it is the only end. Hence the Practical Arts are not to be classed among the Sciences.
Aphorism XXVI.
Practical Knowledge, such as Art implies, is not Knowledge such as Science includes. Brute animals have a practical knowledge of relations of space and force; but they have no knowledge of Geometry or Mechanics.
1. THE distinction of Arts and Sciences very materially affects all classifications of the departments of Human Knowledge. It is often maintained, expressly or tacitly, that the Arts are a part of our knowledge, in the same sense in which the Sciences are so; and that Art is the application of Science to the purposes of practical life. It will be found that these views require some correction, when we understand Science in the exact sense in which we have throughout endeavoured to contemplate it, and in which alone our examination of its nature can instruct us in the true foundations of our knowledge.
When we cast our eyes upon the early stages of the histories of nations, we cannot fail to be struck with the consideration, that in many countries the Arts of life already appear, at least in some rude form or other, when, as yet, nothing of science exists. A 130 practical knowledge of Astronomy, such as enables them to reckon months and years, is found among all nations except the mere savages. A practical knowledge of Mechanics must have existed in those nations which have left us the gigantic monuments of early architecture. The pyramids and temples of Egypt and Nubia, the Cyclopean walls of Italy and Greece, the temples of Magna Græcia and Sicily, the obelisks and edifices of India, the cromlechs and Druidical circles of countries formerly Celtic,—must have demanded no small practical mechanical skill and power. Yet those modes of reckoning time must have preceded the rise of speculative Astronomy; these structures must have been erected before the theory of Mechanics was known. To suppose, as some have done, a great body of science, now lost, to have existed in the remote ages to which these remains belong, is not only quite gratuitous, and contrary to all analogy, but is a supposition which cannot be extended so far as to explain all such cases. For it is impossible to imagine that every art has been preceded by the science which renders a reason for its processes. Certainly men formed wine from the grape, before they possessed a Science of Fermentation; the first instructor of every artificer in brass and iron can hardly be supposed to have taught the Chemistry of metals as a Science; the inventor of the square and the compasses had probably no more knowledge of demonstrated Geometry than have the artisans who now use those implements; and finally, the use of speech, the employment of the inflections and combinations of words, must needs be assumed as having been prior to any general view of the nature and analogy of Language. Even at this moment, the greater part of the arts which exist in the world are not accompanied by the sciences on which they theoretically depend. Who shall state to us the general chemical truths to which the manufactures of glass, and porcelain, and iron, and brass, owe their existence? Do not almost all artisans practise many successful artifices long before science explains the ground of the process? Do not arts at this day exist, in a high state 131 of perfection, in countries in which there is no science, as China and India? These countries and many others have no theories of mechanics, of optics, of chemistry, of physiology; yet they construct and use mechanical and optical instruments, make chemical combinations, take advantage of physiological laws. It is too evident to need further illustration that Art may exist without Science;—that the former has usually been anterior to the latter, and even now commonly advances independently, leaving science to follow as it can.
2. We here mean by Science, that exact, general, speculative knowledge, of which we have, throughout this work, been endeavouring to exhibit the nature and rules. Between such Science and the practical Arts of life, the points of difference are sufficiently manifest. The object of Science is Knowledge; the object of Art are Works. The latter is satisfied with producing its material results; to the former, the operations of matter, whether natural or artificial, are interesting only so far as they can be embraced by intelligible principles. The End of Art is the Beginning of Science; for when it is seen what is done, then comes the question why it is done. Art may have fixed general rules, stated in words; but she has these merely as means to an end: to Science, the propositions which she obtains are each, in itself, a sufficient end of the effort by which it is acquired. When Art has brought forth her product, her task is finished; Science is constantly led by one step of her path to another: each proposition which she obtains impels her to go onwards to other propositions more general, more profound, more simple. Art puts elements together, without caring to know what they are, or why they coalesce. Science analyses the compound, and at every such step strives not only to perform, but to understand the analysis. Art advances in proportion as she becomes able to bring forth products more multiplied, more complex, more various; but Science, straining her eyes to penetrate more and more deeply into the nature of things, reckons her success in proportion as she sees, in all the phenomena, however 132 multiplied; complex, and varied, the results of one or two simple and general laws.
3. There are many acts which man, as well as animals, performs by the guidance of nature, without seeing or seeking the reason why he does so; as, the acts by which he balances himself in standing or moving, and those by which he judges of the form and position of the objects around him. These actions have their reason in the principles of geometry and mechanics; but of such reasons he who thus acts is unaware: he works blindly, under the impulse of an unknown principle which we call Instinct. When man’s speculative nature seeks and finds the reasons why he should act thus or thus;—why he should stretch out his arm to prevent his falling, or assign a certain position to an object in consequence of the angles under which it is seen;—he may perform the same actions as before, but they are then done by the aid of a different faculty, which, for the sake of distinction, we may call Insight. Instinct is a purely active principle; it is seen in deeds alone; it has no power of looking inwards; it asks no questions; it has no tendency to discover reasons or rules; it is the opposite of Insight.
4. Art is not identical with Instinct: on the contrary, there are broad differences. Instinct is stationary; Art is progressive. Instinct is mute; it acts, but gives no rules for acting: Art can speak; she can lay down rules. But though Art is thus separate from Instinct, she is not essentially combined with Insight. She can see what to do, but she needs not to see why it is done. She may lay down Rules, but it is not her business to give Reasons. When man makes that his employment, he enters upon the domain of Science. Art takes the phenomena and laws of nature as she finds them: that they are multiplied, complex, capricious, incoherent, disturbs her not. She is content that the rules of nature’s operations should be perfectly arbitrary and unintelligible, provided they are constant, so that she can depend upon their effects. But Science is impatient of all appearance of caprice, 133 inconsistency, irregularity, in nature. She will not believe in the existence of such characters. She resolves one apparent anomaly after another; her task is not ended till every thing is so plain and simple, that she is tempted to believe that she sees that it could by no possibility have been otherwise than it is.