But let us imagine, on the other hand, a race of intelligent beings, subject to the same laws of thought as mankind, but incapable of transgressing them in practice. The elements of existing Logic, the Concept, the Judgment, the Syllogism, would remain unaltered. The Science of Logic would investigate the laws of unerring Reason, as the Science of Astronomy investigates the unvarying laws of the heavenly phenomena; but an Art of Logic, to preserve the mind from error, would be as absurd as an Art of Astronomy proposing to control and regulate the planets in their courses. From these considerations it follows that, even granting Logic to be, under existing circumstances, both Science and Art, yet the former is an essential, the latter an accidental, feature; the one is necessarily interwoven with the elements of the system, the other a contingent result of the infirmities of those who possess it. In this respect, pure Logic may not unfairly be compared to Mechanics treated as a branch of Mathematics. As Sciences, both proceed deductively from assumptions more or less inconsistent with the actual state of things. As Arts, neither can be put in practice without making allowance for contingencies neglected in the scientific theory. The assumed logical perfection of thought bears about the same relation to the ordinary state of the human mind as the assumption of perfectly rigid levers and perfectly flexible cords bears to the action of those instruments in practice. But, on the other hand, the possibility of making such allowances implies that the difference between practice and theory is one of degree only, and not of kind. The instrument as used may not be identical with the instrument as contemplated, but it must be supposed capable of approximation to it. A Science of the Laws of Thought is only valuable in so far as

its laws are acknowledged to be those to which actual thinking ought, as far as possible, to conform, and which, if fully complied with, would represent only the better performance of existing obligations, not the imposition of

new ones.

The same may be said of Ethical Philosophy likewise. In describing the perfection of moral and intellectual virtue, we describe a standard to which, in the existing state of human nature, no man does or can attain; but the whole value of the portrait is derived. from its being a more or less accurate representation of man as he ought to be, not the imaginary sketch of a being of a totally distinct kind.1

In order therefore to the right appreciation of any given system of Logic, it becomes necessary to ask, What is the actual nature of Thought as an operation, to what laws is it subject, and to what extent are they efficient? This inquiry does not, strictly speaking, fall within the province of Logic itself. No Science is competent to criticise its. own principles. That there is such an operation as thinking, and certain laws to which it is bound to conform, the Logician does not question, but assumes. Whether there are other mental operations besides thinking, and whether these must act in combination with Thought for the attainment of any special class of truths; - these and such like questions it is beyond his province to investigate. His own branch of inquiry is twofold, partly constructive, and partly critical. In the former capacity, he inquires, what are the several forms, legitimate or illegitimate, which

1 "Beide, Logik und Ethik, haben Vorschriften aufzustellen, nach welchen sich, hier das Denken, dort das Handeln richten soll, obgleich es sich eins wie das andere, aus psychologischen Gründen gar oft in der Wirklichkeit nicht darnach richtet, und nicht darnach richten kann."-Herbart. Psychologie als Wissenschaft, Th. ii. § 119.

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Thought as a product will assume, according as the act of thinking is or is not conducted in conformity to its given. laws. In the latter capacity, he sifts and examines the special products of this or that thinker, and pronounces them, according to the features which they exhibit, to be legitimately produced or otherwise.1

Beyond the boundaries of pure Logic there is thus another and important field of inquiry. Is the mind capable of other operations besides those of Thought; and are there other kinds of mental rectitude besides that which results from the conformity of Thought to its own laws? Do the several mental faculties act in the pursuit of truth conjointly or separately? Does each process guarantee the complete attainment of a limited class of truths, or the attainment of a single element which becomes truth only in combination? Do the Laws of Thought, as assumed by Logic, exhibit those features which, from the general constitution of the human mind and the peculiar character of the thinking faculty, they might be expected to exhibit? In relation to these and similar questions, Logic is subordinate to Psychology.

To Psychology we must look for the explanation and justification of the peculiar features of Logic. Logic, says one antagonist, furnishes no criterion of material truth. and falsehood. It may be that, from the constitution of the human mind, such a criterion is impossible. Its principles, says another, are mere frivolous tautologies. It may be that this very tautology has a psychological significance, that it is the necessary consequence of a mind gazing upon its own laws. It is barren in the production

1 See Clauberg, Logica, Proleg. § viii. Drobisch, Neue Darstellung der Logik, 9. Fries, System der Logik, § 1.

of positive science. It may be that Thought alone was never designed by man's Maker to be otherwise. As an instrument, it has attempted much and accomplished little. The fault may lie, not in the tool, but in the workman. Before we condemn Logic for what it does not perform, or despise it for what it does, it may be as well to ask, what we may learn elsewhere of the nature of the thinking faculty, and what it may reasonably be expected to accomplish.

In order, therefore, to determine accurately the province. and capabilities of Logic, it will be necessary to examine the psychological distinction between Thought, properly so called, and other phenomena of mind. This being ascertained, there will remain the inquiry, in what manner our consciousness itself and the several objects submitted to it may be regarded as subject to law; what are the different classes of laws, whether of the subject or of the object, the characteristic features of each, their mode of determining the several operations subject to them, and the consequent character of the respective products.

Every state of consciousness necessarily implies two elements at least a conscious subject, and an object of which he is conscious. In every exercise, for example, of the senses, we may distinguish the object seen, heard, smelt, touched, tasted, from the subject seeing, hearing, smelling, touching, tasting. In every emotion of pleasure or of pain, there is a certain affection, agreeable or disagreeable, existing within me, and of this affection I am conscious. In every act of volition, there takes place a certain exercise of my will, and I am conscious that it takes place. In this point of view, it is not necessary to enter on the often disputed question, whether such states of consciousness furnish immediate evidence of the ex

istence of a world external to ourselves.

That of which

I am directly conscious may be an object numerically distinct from myself, or it may be a modification of my own mind. All that need be insisted upon here is, that there is present an individual object, whether thing, act, or state of mind, and that we are conscious of such an object as existing within or without ourselves. A psychological dualism is implied in the very notion of consciousness: whether this necessarily involves an ontological dualism, is beyond our present purpose to inquire.1

But to constitute an act of Thought, more is required than the immediate relation of subject to object in consciousness. Every one of the above states might exist in a mind totally incapable of thought. Let us suppose, for example, a being, in whose mind every successive state of consciousness was forgotten as soon as it had taken place. Every individual object might be presented to him precisely as it is to us. Animals, men, trees, and stones, might be successively placed before his eyes; pleasure, and pain, and anger, and fear, might alternate within him; but, as each departed, he would retain no knowledge that it had ever existed, and consequently no power of comparison with similar or dissimilar objects of an earlier or later consciousness. He would have no knowledge of such objects as referred to separate notions; he could not say, this which I see is a man, or a horse; this which I feel is fear, or anger. He would be deficient in the distinctive feature of Thought, the concept or general notion resulting from the comparison of objects. Hence arises.

1 This point has been already argued fully and satisfactorily by the great modern advocate of Natural Dualism, Sir William Hamilton. The reader is referred to his edition of Reid's works, especially to his notes B and C, for a masterly dissertation on this important question.