Kitabı oku: «Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 62, No. 382, August 1847», sayfa 16

There was a loud shriek from the bar, and a bustle—the prisoner had fainted.

I looked at Strachan. He was absolutely as white as a corpse.

"My dear Tom," said I, "hadn't you better go out into the open air?"

"No!" was the firm reply; "I am here to do my duty, and I'll do it."

And in effect, the Spartan boy with the fox gnawing into his side, did not acquit himself more heroically than my friend. The case was a clear one, no doubt, but Tom made a noble speech, and was highly complimented by the Judge upon his ability. No sooner, however, had he finished it than he left the Court.

I saw him two hours afterwards.

"Tom," said I, "About these emerald studs—I think I could get them back from the Fiscal."

"Keep them to yourself. I'm off to India."

"Bah!—go down to the Highlands for a month."

Tom did so; purveyed himself a kilt; met an heiress at the Inverness Meeting, and married her. He is now the happy father of half-a-dozen children, and a good many of us would give a trifle for his practice. But to this day he is as mad as a March hare if an allusion is made in his presence to any kind of studs whatsoever.

CÆSAR

 
Wake, Rome! destruction's at thy door.
Rouse thee! for thou wilt sleep no more
Till thou shalt sleep in death:
The tramp of storm-shod Mars is near—
His chariot's thundering roll I hear,
His trumpet's startling breath.
Who comes?—not they, thy fear of old,
The blue-eyed Gauls, the Cimbrians bold,
Who like a hail-shower in the May
Came, and like hail they pass'd away;
But one with surer sword,
A child whom thou hast nursed, thy son,
Thy well-beloved, thy favoured one,
Thy Cæsar comes—thy lord!
 
 
The ghost of Marius walks to-night
By Anio's banks in shaggy plight,
And laughs with savage glee;
And Sylla from his loathsome death,
Scenting red Murder's reeking breath,
Doth rise to look on thee.
Signs blot the sky; the deep-vex'd earth
Breeds portents of a monstrous birth;
And augurs pale with fear have noted
The dark-vein'd liver strangely bloated,
Hinting some dire disaster.
To right the wrongs of human kind
Behold! the lordly Rome to bind,
A Roman comes—a master.
 
 
He comes whom, nor the Belgic band,
The bravest Nervii might withstand
With pleasure-spurning souls
Nor they might give his star eclipse,
The sea-swept Celts with high-tower'd ships,
Where westmost ocean rolls.
Him broad-waved Rhine reluctant own'd
As 'neath the firm-set planks it groan'd,
Then, when the march of spoiling Rome
Stirr'd the far German's forest-home;
And when he show'd his rods
Back to their marshy dens withdrew
The Titan-hearted Suevians blue,
That dared the immortal gods.
 
 
Him Britain from her extreme shores,
Where fierce the huge-heaved ocean roars,
Beholding, bent the knee.
Now, Pompey, now! from rushing Fate
Thy Rome redeem: but 'tis too late,
Nor lives that strength in thee.
In vain for thee State praises flow
From lofty-sounding Cicero;
Vainly Marcellus prates thy cause,
And Cato, true to parchment laws,
Protests with rigid hands:
The echo of a by-gone fame,
The shadow of a mighty name,
The far-praised Pompey stands.
 
 
Lift up thine eyes, and see! Sheer down,
From where the Alps tremendous frown,
Strides War, which Julius leads:
Eager to follow, to pursue—
Sleepless, to one high purpose true,
The prosperous soldier speeds.
He comes, all eye to scan, all hand
To do, the instinct of command;
With firm-set tread, and pointed will,
And harden'd courage, practised skill,
And anger-whetted sword:
A man to seize, and firmly hold—
To his own use a world to mould—
Rome's not unworthy lord!
 
 
The little Rubicon doth brim
Its purple tide—a check for him,
Hinted, how vainly! ¹⁵ He
All bounds and marks, the world's dull wonder,
Calmly o'erleaps, and snaps asunder
All reverend ties that be!
The soldier carries in his sword
The primal right by bridge or ford
To pass. Shall kingly Cæsar fall
And kiss the ground—the Senate's thrall
And boastful Pompey's drudge?
Forthwith, with one bold plunge, is pass'd
The fateful flood—"the Die is cast;
Let Fortune be the judge!"¹⁶
 
 
The day rose on Ariminum
With War's shrill cry—They come! they come!
Nor they unwelcomed came;
Pisauram, Fanum's shrine, and thou,
Ancon, with thy sea-fronting brow,
Own'd the great soldier's name.
And all Picenum's orchard-fields,
And the strong-forted Asculum yields:
And where, beyond high Apennine,
Clitumnus feeds the white, white kine;
And 'mid Pelignian hills—
Short time, with his Corfinian bands,
Stout Ænobarbus stiffly stands
Where urgent Cæsar wills!¹⁷
 
 
Flee, Pompey, flee! the ancient awe
Of magisterial rule and law,
Authority and state,
The Consul's name, the Lictor's rods,
The pomp of Capitolian gods,
Stem not the flooding fate.
Beneath the Volscian hills, and near
Where exiled Marius lurk'd in fear,
'Mid stagnant Liris' marshes, there
Breathe first in that luxurious lair
Where famous Hannibal lay;¹⁸
Nor tarry; while the chance is thine.
Hie o'er the Samnian Apennine
To the far Calabrian bay!
 
 
Wing thy sure speed! Who hounds thy path?
Fierce as the Furies in their wrath
The blood-stain'd wretch pursue,
He comes, Rome's tempest-footed son,
Victor, but deeming nothing done
While aught remains to do.
Above Brundusium's bosom'd bay
He stands, lashing the Adrian spray.
With piers of enterprise the sea
Her fleet-wing'd chariot trims for thee,
To the Greek coast to bear thee;
There, where Enipeus rolls his flood
Through storied fields made fat with blood,¹⁹
For fate's last blow prepare thee.
 
 
There will thy dwindled hosts, increased
By kings and tetrarchs of the East,
And sons of swarthy Nile;
From Pontus and from Colchis far,
The gather'd ranks of motley war,
Let fortune seem to smile
A moment, that with sterner frown,
She, when she strikes, may strike thee down.
A flattering fool shall be thy guide,²⁰
And hope shall whisper to thy pride
Things that may not befall.
Thy forward-springing wit shall boast
The numbers of thy counted host—
That pride may have a fall.
 
 
Hoar Pindus, from his rocky barriers,
Looks on thy ranks of gay-plumed warriors,
And sees an ominous sight:
The leafy tent for victory graced,
Foresnatching fate with impious haste
From gods that rule the fight.
Thus fools have perish'd; and thus thou,
Spurr'd to sheer death, art blinded now.
Feeble thy clouds of clattering horse
To dash his steady ordered force;
From twanging bow and sling
Dintless the missile hail is pour'd,
Where the Tenth Legion wields the sword,
And Cæsar leads the wing.²¹
 
 
'Tis done. And sire to son shall tell
What on Emathian plains befell,
A God-ordain'd disaster;
How justice dealt the even blow,
And Rome that laid the nations low
Herself hath found a master.
Oh, had thou known thyself to rule,
That train'd the world in thy stern school,
Fate might have gentlier dealt; but now
Thyself thy proper Fury, thou
Hast struck the avenging blow.
On sandy Afric's treacherous shore,
Fresh from red Pharsaly's streaming gore,
Lies Rome with Pompey low.
 

J. S. B.

Inverury, 1847.

REID AND THE PHILOSOPHY OF COMMON SENSE. ²²

Although Dr Reid does not stand in the very highest rank of philosophers, this incomparable edition of his works goes far to redress his deficiencies, and to render his writings, taken in connexion with the editorial commentaries, a most engaging and profitable study. It is probable that the book derives much of its excellence from the very imperfections of the textual author. Had Reid been a more learned man, he might have failed to elicit the unparalleled erudition of his editor,—had he been a clearer and closer thinker, Sir William Hamilton's vigorous logic and speculative acuteness, would probably have found a narrower field for their display. On the whole, we cannot wish that Reid had been either more erudite or more perspicacious, so pointed and felicitous is the style in which his errors are corrected, his thoughts reduced to greater precision, his ambiguities pointed out and cleared up, and his whole system set in its most advantageous light, by his admiring, though by no means idolatrous editor.

Besides being a model of editorship, this single volume is, in so far as philosophy and the history of philosophical opinion are concerned, of itself a literature. We must add, however, that Sir William Hamilton's dissertations, though abundant, are not yet completed. Yet, in spite of this drawback, the work is one which ought to wipe away effectually from our country the reproach of imperfect learning and shallow speculation; for in depth of thought, and extent and accuracy of knowledge, the editor's own contributions are of themselves sufficient to bring up our national philosophy (which had fallen somewhat into arrear) to a level with that of the most scientific countries in Europe.

In the remarks that are to follow, we shall confine ourselves to a critique of the philosophy of Dr Reid, and of its collateral topics. Sir William Hamilton's dissertations are too elaborate and important to be discussed, unless in an article, or series of articles, devoted exclusively to themselves. Should we appear in aught to press the philosophy of common sense too hard, we conceive that our strictures are, to a considerable extent, borne out by the admissions of Sir William Hamilton himself, in regard to the tenets of the founder of the school. And should some of our shafts glance off against the editor's own opinions, he has only himself to blame for it. If we see a fatal flaw in the constitution of all, and consequently of his, psychology, it was his writings that first opened our eyes to it. So lucidly has he explained certain philosophical doctrines, that they cannot stop at the point to which he has carried them. They must be rolled forward into a new development which perhaps may be at variance with the old one, where he tarries. But his powerful arm first set the stone in motion, and he must be content to let it travel whithersoever it may. He has taught those who study him to think—and he must stand the consequences, whether they think in unison with himself or not. We, conceive, however, that even those who differ from him most, would readily own, that to his instructive disquisitions they were indebted for at least one half of all that they know of philosophy.

In entering on an examination of the system of Dr Reid, we must ask first of all, what is the great problem about which philosophers in all ages have busied themselves most, and which consequently must have engaged, and did engage, a large share of the attention of the champion of Common Sense? We must also state the fact which gives rise to the problem of philosophy.

The perception of a material universe, as it is the most prominent fact of cognition, so has it given rise to the problem which has been most agitated by philosophers. This question does not relate to the existence of the fact. The existence of the perception of matter is admitted on all hands. It refers to the nature, or origin, or constitution of the fact. Is the perception of matter simple and indivisible, or is it composite and divisible? Is it the ultimate, or is it only the penultimate, datum of cognition? Is it a relation constituted by the concurrence of a mental or subjective, and a material or objective element,—or do we impose upon ourselves in regarding it as such? Is it a state, or modification of the human mind? Is it an effect that can be distinguished from its cause? Is it an event consequent on the presence of real antecedent objects? These interrogations are somewhat varied in their form, but each of them embodies the whole point at issue, each of them contains the cardinal question of philosophy. The perception of matter is the admitted fact. The character of this fact—that is the point which speculation undertakes to canvass, and endeavours to decipher.

Another form in which the question may be put is this: We all believe in the existence of matter—but what kind of matter do we believe in the existence of? matter per se, or matter cum perceptione? If the former—this implies that the given fact (the perception of matter) is compound and submits to analysis; if the latter—this implies that it is simple and defies partition.

Opposite answers to this question are returned by psychology and metaphysics. In the estimation of metaphysic, the perception of matter is the absolutely elementary in cognition, the ne plus ultra of thought. Reason cannot get beyond, or behind it. It has no pedigree. It admits of no analysis. It is not a relation constituted by the coalescence of an objective and a subjective element. It is not a state or modification of the human mind. It is not an effect which can be distinguished from its cause. It is not brought about by the presence of antecedent realities. It is positively the first, with no forerunner. The perception-of-matter is one mental word, of which the verbal words are mere syllables. We impose upon ourselves, and we also falsify the fact, if we take any other view of it than this. Thus speaks metaphysic, though perhaps not always with an unfaltering voice.

Psychology, or the science of the human mind, teaches a very different doctrine. According to this science, the perception of matter is a secondary and composite truth. It admits of being analysed into a subjective and an objective element—a mental modification called perception on the one hand, and matter per se on the other. It is an effect induced by real objects. It is not the first datum of intelligence. It has matter itself for its antecedent. Such, in very general terms, is the explanation of the perception of matter which psychology proposes.

Psychology and metaphysics are thus radically opposed to each other in their solutions of the highest problem of speculation. Stated concisely, the difference between them is this:—psychology regards the perception of matter as susceptible of analytic treatment, and travels, or endeavours to travel, beyond the given fact: metaphysic stops short in the given fact, and there makes a stand, declaring it to be all indissoluble unity. Psychology holds her analysis to be an analysis of things. Metaphysic holds the psychological analysis to be an analysis of sounds—and nothing more.

These observations exhibit, in their loftiest generalisation, the two counter doctrines on the subject of perception. We now propose to follow them into their details, for the purpose both of eliciting the truth and of arriving at a correct judgment in regard to the reformation which Dr Reid is supposed to have effected in this department of philosophy.

The psychological or analytic doctrine is the first which we shall discuss, on account of its connexion with the investigations of Dr Reid,—in regard to whom we may state, beforehand, our conclusion and its grounds, which are these:—that Reid broke down in his philosophy, both polemical and positive, because he assumed the psychological and not the metaphysical doctrine of perception as the basis of his arguments. He did not regard the perception of matter as absolutely primary and simple; but in common with all psychologists, he conceived that it admitted of being resolved into a mental condition, and a material reality; and the consequence was, that he fell into the very errors which it was the professed business of his life to denounce and exterminate. How this catastrophe came about we shall endeavour shortly to explain.

Reid's leading design was to overthrow scepticism and idealism. In furtherance of this intention, he proposed to himself the accomplishment of two subsidiary ends,—the refutation of what is called the ideal or representative theory of perception, and the substitution of a doctrine of intuitive perception in its room. He takes, and he usually gets, credit for having accomplished both of these objects. But if it be true that the representative theory is but the inevitable development of the doctrine which treats the perception of matter analytically, and if it be true that Reid adopts this latter doctrine, it is obvious that his claims cannot be admitted without a very considerable deduction. That both of these things are true may be established, we think, beyond the possibility of a doubt.

In the first place, then, we have to show that the theory of a representative perception (which Reid is supposed to have overthrown) is identical with the doctrine which treats the perception of matter analytically;—and, in the second, we have to show that Reid himself followed the analytic or psychological procedure in his treatment of this fact, and founded upon the analysis his own doctrine of perception.

First, The representative theory is that doctrine of perception which teaches that, in our intercourse with the external universe, we are not immediately cognisant of real objects themselves, but only of certain mental transcripts or images of them, which, in the language of the different philosophical schools, were termed ideas, representations, phantasms, or species. According to this doctrine we are cognisant of real things, not in and through themselves, but in and through these species or representations. The representations are the immediate or proximate, the real things are the mediate or remote, objects of the mind. The existence of the former is a matter of knowledge, the existence of the latter is merely a matter of belief.

To understand this theory, we must construe its nomenclature into, the language of the present day. What, then, is the modern synonym for the "ideas," "representations," "phantasms," and "species," which the theory in question declares to be vicarious of real objects? There cannot be a doubt that the word perception is that synonym. So that the representative theory, when fairly interpreted, amounts simply to this;—that the mind is immediately cognisant, not of real objects themselves, but only of its own perceptions of real objects. To accuse the representationist of maintaining a doctrine more repugnant to common sense than this, or in any way different from it, would be both erroneous and unjust. The golden rule of philosophical criticism is, to give every system the benefit of the most favourable interpretation which it admits of.

This, then, is the true version of representationism,—namely, that our perceptions of material things, and not material things per se, are the proximate objects of our consciousness when we hold intercourse with the external universe.

Now, this is a doctrine which inevitably emerges the instant that the analysis of the perception of matter is set on foot and admitted. When a philosopher divides, or imagines that he divides, the perception of matter into two things, perception and matter, holding the former to be a state of his own mind, and the latter to be no such state; he does, in that analysis, and without saying one other word, avow himself to be a thoroughgoing representationist. For his analysis declares that, in perception, the mind has an immediate or proximate, and a mediate or remote object. Its perception of matter is the proximate object—the object of its consciousness; matter itself, the material existence, is the remote object—the object of its belief. But such a doctrine is representationism, in the strictest sense of the word. It is the very essence and definition of the representative theory to recognise, in perception, a remote as well as a proximate object of the mind. Every system which does this, is necessarily a representative system. The doctrine which treats the perception of matter analytically does this; therefore the analytic or psychological doctrine is identical with the representative theory. Both hold that the perceptive process involves two objects—an immediate and a mediate; and nothing more is required to establish their perfect identity. The analysis of the fact which we call the perception of matter, is unquestionably the groundwork and pervading principle of the theory of a representative perception, whatever form of expression this scheme may at any time have assumed.

Secondly, Did Dr Reid go to work analytically in his treatment of the perception of matter? Undoubtedly he did. He followed the ordinary psychological practice. He regarded the datum as divisible into perception and matter. The perception he held to be an act, if not a modification, of our minds; the matter, he regarded as something which existed out of the mind and irrespective of all perception. Right or wrong, he resolved, or conceived that he had resolved, the perception of matter into its constituent elements—these being a mental operation on the one hand, and a material existence on the other. In short, however ambiguous many of Dr Reid's principles may be, there can be no doubt that he founded his doctrine of perception on an analysis of the given fact with which he had to deal. He says, indeed, but little about this analysis, so completely does he take it for granted. He accepted, as a thing of course, the notorious distinction between the perception of matter and matter itself: and, in doing so, he merely followed the example of all preceding psychologists.

These two points being established,—first, that the theory of representationism necessarily arises out of an analysis of the perception of matter; and secondly, that Reid analysed or accepted the analysis of this fact,—it follows as a necessary consequence, that Reid, so far from having overthrown the representative theory, was himself a representationist. His analysis gave him more than he bargained for. He wished to obtain only one, that is, only a proximate object in perception; but his analysis necessarily gave him two: it gave him a remote as well as a proximate object. The mental mode or operation which he calls the perception of matter, and which he distinguishes from matter itself, this, in his philosophy, is the proximate object of consciousness, and is precisely equivalent to the species, phantasms, representations of the older psychology; the real existence, matter itself, which he distinguishes from the perception of it, this is the remote object of the mind, and is precisely equivalent to the mediate or represented object of the older psychology. He and the representationists, moreover, agree in holding that the latter is the object of belief rather than of knowledge.

The merits of Dr Reid, then, as a reformer of philosophy, amount in our opinion to this:—he was among the first²³ to say and to write that the representative theory of perception was false and erroneous, and was the fountainhead of scepticism and idealism. But this admission of his merits must be accompanied by the qualification that he adopted, as the basis of his philosophy, a principle which rendered nugatory all his protestations. It is of no use to disclaim a conclusion if we accept the premises which inevitably lead to it. Dr Reid disclaimed the representative theory, but he embraced its premises, and thus he virtually ratified the conclusions of the very system which he clamourously denounced. In his language, he is opposed to representationism, but in his doctrine, he lends it the strongest support, by accepting as the foundation of his philosophy an analysis of the perception of matter.

In regard to the second end which Dr Reid is supposed to have overtaken,—the establishment of a doctrine of intuitive as opposed to a doctrine of representative perception, it is unnecessary to say much. If we have proved him to be a representationist, he cannot be held to be an intuitionist. Indeed, a doctrine of intuitive perception is a sheer impossibility upon his principles. A doctrine of intuition implies that the mind in perceiving matter has only one, namely, a proximate object. But the analysis of the perception of matter yields as its result, a remote as well as a proximate object. The proximate object is the perception—the remote object is the reality. And thus the analysis of the given fact necessarily renders abortive every endeavour to construct a doctrine of intuitive perception. The attempt must end in representationism. The only basis for a doctrine of intuitive perception which will never give way, is a resolute forbearance from all analysis of the fact. Do not tamper with it, and you are safe.

Such is the judgment which we are reluctantly compelled to pronounce on the philosophy of Dr Reid in reference to its two cardinal claims—the refutation of the ideal theory, and the establishment of a truer doctrine—a doctrine of intuitive perception. In neither of these undertakings do we think that he has succeeded, and we have exhibited the grounds of our opinion. We do not blame him for this: he simply missed his way at the outset. Representationism could not possibly be avoided, neither could intuitionism be possibly fallen in with, on the analytic road which he took.

But we have not yet done with the consideration of the psychological or analytic doctrine of perception. We proceed to examine the entanglements in which reason gets involved when she accepts the perception of matter not in its natural and indissoluble unity, but as analysed by philosophers into a mental and a material factor. We have still an eye to Dr Reid. He came to the rescue of reason—how did it fare with him in the struggle?

The analysis so often referred to affords a starting point, as has been shown, to representationism: it is also the tap-root of scepticism and idealism. These four things hang together in an inevitable sequence. Scepticism and idealism dog representationism, and representationism dogs the analysis of the perception of matter, just as obstinately as substance is dogged by shadow. More explicitly stated, the order in which they move is this:—The analysis divides the perception of matter into perception and matter—two separate things. Upon this, representationism declares, that the perception is the proximate and that the matter is the remote object of the mind. Then scepticism declares, that the existence of the matter which has been separated from the perception is problematical, because it is not the direct object of consciousness, and is consequently hypothetical. And, last of all, idealism takes up the ball and declares, that this hypothetical matter is not only problematical, but that it is non-existent. These are the perplexities which rise up to embarrass reason whenever she is weak enough to accept from philosophers their analysis of the perception of matter. They are only the just punishment of her infatuated facility. But what has Reid done to extricate reason from her embarrassments?

We must remember that Reid commenced with analysis, and that consequently he embraced representationism,—in its spirit, if not positively in its letter. But how did he evade the fangs of scepticism and idealism—to say nothing of destroying—these sleuth-hounds which on this road were sure to be down upon his track the moment they got wind of him? We put the question in a less figurative form,—When scepticism and idealism doubted or denied the independent existence of matter, how did Reid vindicate it? He faced about and appealed boldly to our instinctive and irresistible belief in its independent existence.

The crisis of the strife centres in this appeal. In itself, the appeal is perfectly competent and legitimate. But it may be met, on the part of the sceptic and idealist, by two modes of tactic. The one tactic is weak, and gives an easy triumph to Dr Reid: the other is more formidable, and, in our opinion, lays him prostrate.

The first Sceptical Tactic. In answer to Dr Reid's appeal, the sceptic or idealist may say, "Doubtless we have a belief in the independent existence of matter; but this belief is not to be trusted. It is an insufficient guarantee for that which it avouches. It does not follow that a thing is true because we instinctively believe it to be true. It does not follow that matter exists because we cannot but believe it to exist. You must prove its existence by a better argument than mere belief."—This mode of meeting the appeal we hold to be pure trifling. We join issue with Dr Reid in maintaining that our nature is not rooted in delusion, and that the primitive convictions of common sense, must be accepted as infallible. If the sceptic admits that we have a natural belief in the independent existence of matter, there is an end to him: Dr Reid's victory is secure. This first tactic is a feeble and mistaken manœuvre.

The Second Sceptical Tactic. This position is not so easily turned. The stronghold of the sceptic and idealist is this: they deny the primitive belief to which Dr Reid appeals to be the fact. It is not true, they say, that any man believes in the independent existence of matter. And this is perfectly obvious the moment that it is explained. Matter in its independent existence, matter per se, is matter disengaged in thought from all perception of it present or remembered. Now, does any man believe in the existence of such matter? Unquestionably not. No man by any possibility can. What the matter is which man really believes in shall be explained when we come to speak of the metaphysical solution of the problem—perhaps sooner. Meanwhile we remark that Dr Reid's appeal to the conviction of common sense in favour of the existence of matter per se, is rebutted, and in our opinion triumphantly, by the denial on the part of scepticism and idealism that any such belief exists. Scepticism and idealism not only deny the independent existence of matter, but they deny that any man believes in the independent existence of matter. And in this denial they are most indubitably right. For observe what such a belief requires as its condition. A man must disengage in thought, a tree, for instance, from the thought of all perception of it, and then he must believe in its existence thus disengaged. If he has not disengaged, in his mind, the tree from its perception, (from its present perception, if the tree be before him—from its remembered perception, if it be not before him,) he cannot believe in the existence of the tree disengaged from its perception; for the tree is not disengaged from its perception. But unless he believes in the existence of the tree disengaged from its perception, he does not believe in the independent existence of the tree,—in the existence of the tree per se. Now, can the mind by any effort effect this disengagement? The thing is an absolute impossibility. The condition on which the belief hinges cannot be purified, and consequently the belief itself cannot be entertained.