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Title: Speculations on Metaphysics Author: Percy Bysshe Shelley Date: 1880 Language: en Topics: essays, metaphysics Source: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Prose_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley/Speculations_on_Metaphysics
I. It is an axiom in mental philosophy, that we can think of nothing
which we have not perceived. When I say that we can think of nothing, I
mean, we can imagine nothing, we can reason of nothing, we can remember
nothing, we can foresee nothing. The most astonishing combinations of
poetry, the subtlest deductions of logic and mathematics, are no other
than combinations which the intellect makes of sensations according to
its own laws. A catalogue of all the thoughts of the mind, and of all
their possible modifications, is a cyclopedic history of the universe.
But, it will be objected, the inhabitants of the various planets of this
and other solar systems; and the existence of a Power bearing the same
relation to all that we perceive and are, as what we call a cause does
to what we call effect, were never subjects of sensation, and yet the
laws of mind almost universally suggest, according to the various
disposition of each, a conjecture, a persuasion, or a conviction of
their existence. The reply is simple; these thoughts are also to be
included in the catalogue of existence; they are modes in which thoughts
are combined; the objection only adds force to the conclusion, that
beyond the limits of perception and thought nothing can exist.
Thoughts, or ideas, or notions, call them what you will, differ from
each other, not in kind, but in force. It has commonly been supposed
that those distinct thoughts which affect a number of persons, at
regular intervals, during the passage of a multitude of other thoughts,
which are called real, or external objects, are totally different in
kind from those which affect only a few persons, and which recur at
irregular intervals, and are usually more obscure and indistinct, such
as hallucinations, dreams, and the ideas of madness. No essential
distinction between any one of these ideas, or any class of them, is
founded on a correct observation of the nature of things, but merely on
a consideration of what thoughts are most invariably subservient to the
security and happiness of life; and if nothing more were expressed by
the distinction, the philosopher might safely accommodate his language
to that of the vulgar. But they pretend to assert an essential
difference, which has no foundation in truth, and which suggests a
narrow and false conception of universal nature, the parent of the most
fatal errors in speculation. A specific difference between every thought
of the mind, is, indeed, a necessary consequence of that law by which it
perceives diversity and number; but a generic and essential difference
is wholly arbitrary. The principle of the agreement and similarity of
all thoughts, is, that they are all thoughts; the principle of their
disagreement consists in the variety and irregularity of the occasions
on which they arise in the mind. That in which they agree, to that in
which they differ, is as everything to nothing. Important distinctions,
of various degrees of force, indeed, are to be established between them,
if they were, as they may be, subjects of ethical and œconomical
discussion; but that is a question altogether distinct.
By considering all knowledge as bounded by perception, whose operations
may be indefinitely combined, we arrive at a conception of Nature
inexpressibly more magnificent, simple and true, than accords with the
ordinary systems of complicated and partial consideration. Nor does a
contemplation of the universe, in this comprehensive and synthetical
view, exclude the subtlest analysis of its modifications and parts.
A scale might be formed, graduated according to the degrees of a
combined ratio of intensity, duration, connexion, periods of recurrence,
and utility, which would be the standard, according to which all ideas
might be measured, and an uninterrupted chain of nicely shadowed
distinctions would be observed, from the faintest impression on the
senses, to the most distinct combination of those impressions; from the
simplest of those combinations, to that mass of knowledge which,
including our own nature, constitutes what we call the universe.
We are intuitively conscious of our own existence, and of that connexion
in the train of our successive ideas, which we term our identity. We are
conscious also of the existence of other minds; but not intuitively. Our
evidence, with respect to the existence of other minds, is founded upon
a very complicated relation of ideas, which it is foreign to the purpose
of this treatise to anatomize. The basis of this relation is,
undoubtedly, a periodical recurrence of masses of ideas, which our
voluntary determinations have, in one peculiar direction, no power to
circumscribe or to arrest, and against the recurrence of which they can
only imperfectly provide. The irresistible laws of thought constrain us
to believe that the precise limits of our actual ideas are not the
actual limits of possible ideas; the law, according to which these
deductions are drawn, is called analogy; and this is the foundation of
all our inferences, from one idea to another, inasmuch as they resemble
each other.
We see trees, houses, fields, living beings in our own shape, and in
shapes more or less analogous to our own. These are perpetually changing
the mode of their existence relatively to us. To express the varieties
of these modes, we say, we move, they move; and as this motion is
continual, though not uniform, we express our conception of the
diversities of its course by—it has been, it is, it shall be. These
diversities are events or objects, and are essential, considered
relatively to human identity, for the existence of the human mind. For
if the inequalities, produced by what has been termed the operations of
the external universe, were levelled by the perception of our being,
uniting, and filling up their interstices, motion and mensuration, and
time, and space; the elements of the human mind being thus abstracted,
sensation and imagination cease. Mind cannot be considered pure.
THEM.
We do not attend sufficiently to what passes within ourselves. We
combine words, combined a thousand times before. In our minds we assume
entire opinions; and in the expression of those opinions, entire
phrases, when we would philosophize. Our whole style of expression and
sentiment is infected with the tritest plagiarisms. Our words are dead,
our thoughts are cold and borrowed.[1]
∗∗∗∗∗∗
. . . . . . more than suggest an association of words, or the
remembrance of external objects distinct from the conceptions which the
mind exerts relatively to them. They are about these conceptions. They
perpetually awaken the attention of their reader to the consideration of
their intellectual nature. They make him feel that his mind is not
merely impelled or organized by the adhibition of events proceeding from
what has been termed the mechanism of the material universe.
That which the most consummate intelligences that have adorned this
mortal scene inherit as their birthright, let us acquire (for it is
within our grasp) by caution, by strict scepticism concerning all
assertions, all expressions; by scrupulous and strong attention to the
mysteries of our own nature.
Let us contemplate facts. Let me repeat that in the great study of
ourselves we ought resolutely to compel the mind to a rigid examination
of itself. Let us in[2] the science which regards those laws by which
the mind acts, as well as in those which regard the laws by which it is
acted upon, severely collect those facts.
Metaphysics is a word which has been so long applied to denote an
inqidry into the phenomena of mind, that it would justly be considered
presumptuous to employ another. But etymologically considered it is very
ill adapted to express the science of mind. It asserts a distinction
between the moral and the material universe which it is presumptuous to
assume. Metaphysics may be defined as the science[3] of all that we
know, feel, remember and believe: inasmuch as our knowledge, sensations,
memory and faith constitute the universe considered relatively to human
identity. Logic, or the science of words must no longer be confounded
with metaphysics or the science of facts. Words are the instruments of
mind whose capacities it becomes the Metaphysician accurately to know,
but they are not mind, nor are they portions of mind. The discoveries of
Horne Tooke in philology do not, as he has asserted, throw light upon[4]
Metaphysics, they only render the instruments recqu[is]ite to its
perception more exact and accurate.
Aristotle and his followers, Locke and most of the modern
Philosophers[5] gave Logic the name of Metaphysics. Nor have those who
are accustomed to profess the greatest veneration for the inductive
system of Lord Bacon adhered with sufficient scrupulousness to its
regulations. They have professed indeed (and who have not professed?) to
deduce their conclusions from indisputable facts. How came many of
those[6] facts to be called indisputable? What sanctioning
correspondence[7] unites a concatenation of syllogisms? Their
promises[8] of deducing all systems from facts has too often been
performed by appealing in favour of these pretended realities to the
obstinate preconceptions of the multitude; or by the most preposterous
mistake of a name for a thing. They . . . .
The science of mind possesses eminent advantages over every other with
regard to the certainty of the conclusions which it affords. It requires
indeed for its entire developement no more than a minute and accurate
attention to facts. Every student may refer to the testimonials[9] which
he bears within himself to ascertain the authorities upon which any
assertion rests. It requires no more than attention to perceive perfect
sincerity in the relation of what is perceived, and care to distinguish
tlie arbitrary marks by which are designated from the themselves.[10]
∗∗∗∗∗∗
We are ourselves the depositaries of the evidence of the subject which
we consider.[11]
∗∗∗∗∗∗
If it were possible that a person should give a faithful history of his
being, from the earliest epochs of his recollection, a picture would be
presented such as the world has never contemplated before. A mirror
would be held up to all men in which they might behold their own
recollections, and, in dim perspective, their shadowy hopes and
fears,—all that they dare not, or that daring and desiring, they could
not expose to the open eyes of day. But thought can with difficulty
visit the intricate and winding chambers which it inhabits. It is like a
river whose rapid and perpetual stream flows outwards;—like one in dread
who speeds through the recesses of some haunted pile, and dares not look
behind. The caverns of the mind are obscure, and shadowy; or pervaded
with a lustre, beautifully bright indeed, but shining not beyond their
portals. If it were possible to be where we have been, vitally and
indeed—if, at the moment of our presence, we could define the results of
our experience,—if the passage from sensation to reflection—from a state
of passive perception to voluntary contemplation, were not so dizzying
and so tumultuous, this attempt would be less difficult.
Most of the errors of philosophers have arisen from considering the
human being in a point of view too detailed and circumscribed. He is not
a moral, and an intellectual,—but also, and pre-eminently, an
imaginative being. His own mind is his law; his own mind is all things
to him. If we would arrive at any knowledge which should be serviceable
from the practical conclusions to which it leads, we ought to consider
the mind of man and the universe as the great whole on which to exercise
our speculations. Here, above all, verbal disputes ought to be laid
aside, though this has long been their chosen field of battle. It
imports little to inquire whether thought be distinct from the objects
of thought. The use of the words external and internal, as applied to
the establishment of this distinction, has been the symbol and the
source of much dispute. This is merely an affair of words, and as the
dispute deserves, to say, that when speaking of the objects of thought,
we indeed only describe one of the forms of thought—or that, speaking of
thought, we only apprehend one of the operations of the universal system
of beings.[12]
WAKING.
I. Let us reflect on our infancy, and give as faithfully as possible a
relation of the events of sleep.
And first I am bound to present a faithful picture of my own peculiar
nature relatively to sleep. I do not doubt that were every individual to
imitate me, it would be found that among many circumstances peculiar to
their individual nature, a sufficiently general resemblance would be
found to prove the connexion existing between those peculiarities and
the most universal phenomena. I shall employ caution, indeed, as to the
facts which I state, that they contain nothing false or exaggerated. But
they contain no more than certain elucidations of my own nature;
concerning the degree in which it resembles, or differs from, that of
others, I am by no means accurately aware. It is sufficient, however, to
caution the reader against drawing general inferences from particular
instances.
I omit the general instances of delusion in fever or delirium, as well
as mere dreams considered in themselves. A delineation of this subject,
however inexhaustible and interesting, is to be passed over.
What is the connexion of sleeping and of waking?
II. I distinctly remember dreaming three several times, between
intervals of two or more years, the same precise dream. It was not so
much what is ordinarily called a dream; the single image, unconnected
with all other images, of a youth who was educated at the same school
with myself, presented itself in sleep. Even now, after the lapse of
many years, I can never hear the name of this youth, without the three
places where I dreamed of him presenting themselves distinctly to my
mind.
III. In dreams, images acquire associations peculiar to dreaming; so
that the idea of a particular house, when it recurs a second time in
dreams, will have relation with the idea of the same house, in the first
time, of a nature entirely different from that which the house excites,
when seen or thought of in relation to waking ideas.
IV. I have beheld scenes, with the intimate and unaccountable connexion
of which with the obscure parts of my own nature, I have been
irresistibly impressed. I have beheld a scene which has produced no
unusual effect on my thoughts. After the lapse of many years I have
dreamed of this scene. It has hung on my memory, it has haunted my
thoughts, at intervals, with the pertinacity of an object connected with
human affections. I have visited this scene asain. Neither the dream
could be dissociated from the landscape, nor the landscape from the
dream, nor feelings, such as neither singly could have awakened, from
both. But the most remarkable event of this nature, which ever occurred
to me, happened five years ago at Oxford. I was walking with a friend,
in the neighbourhood of that city, engaged in earnest and interesting
conversation. We suddenly turned the corner of a lane, and the view,
which its high banks and hedges had concealed, presented itself. The
view consisted of a windmill, standing in one among many plashy meadows,
inclosed with stone walls; the irregular and broken ground, between the
wall and the road on which we stood; a long low hill behind the
windmill, and a grey covering of uniform cloud spread over the evening
sky. It was that season when the last leaf had just fallen from the
scant and stunted ash. The scene surely was a common scene; the season
and the hour little calculated to kindle lawless thought; it was a tame
uninteresting assemblage of objects, such as would drive the imagination
for refuge in serious and sober talk, to the evening fireside, and the
dessert of winter fruits and wine. The effect which it produced on me
was not such as could have been expected. I suddenly remembered to have
seen that exact scene in some dream of long————
Here I was obliged to leave off, overcome by thrilling horror.[13]
[1] This paragraph is the opening of the section as given by Mrs.
Shelley. The rest of the text of the section is here printed from the
MS. referred to at p. 282. Mrs. Shelley has instead the three following
paragraphs:— "Let us contemplate facts; let us, in the great study of
ourselves, resolutely compel the mind to a rigid consideration of
itself. We are not content with conjecture, and inductions, and
syllogisms, in sciences regarding external objects. As in these, let us
also, in considering the phenomena of mind, severely collect those facts
which cannot be disputed. Metaphysics will thus possess this conspicuous
advantage over every other science, that each student, by attentively
referring to his own mind, may ascertain the authorities, upon which any
assertions regarding it are supported. There can thus be no deception,
we ourselves being the depositaries of the evidence of the subject which
we consider. "Metaphysics may be defined as an inquiry concerning those
things belonging to, or connected with, the eternal nature of man. "It
is said that mind produces motion; and it might as well have been said,
that motion produces mind." The third paragraph does not seem to have
any necessary connexion with the others.
[2] Cancelled readings, (1) the science which regards the mind itself
(2) in Metaphysics as in those sciences which regards the laws by which
it is.
[3] Cancelled reading, The sense in which the word Metaphysics will be
employed in the following pages is: See definition given in foot-note,
p. 287.
[4] The words the science of are here cancelled in the MS.
[5] Cancelled reading, Locke and the disciples of his…
[6] Cancelled reading, What are those.
[7] Cancelled reading, connexion.
[8] The word profession is struck out in favour of promises.
[9] In the MS. authorities was originally written here.
[10] Fabulosissima quæque portenta cujusvis religionis alius crediderim
quam hæc omnia sine Numine tieri. [Shelley's Note.]
[11] The continuous fragment here breaks off at the beginning of a page.
On the next page some headings of the subject are indicated by the
inscription of the words "Infancy, Childhood, Youth, Manhood, Old Age"
The first of these sections appears to have been begun; but all we have
of it, or all Mrs. Shelley gave us of it, is the fragment headed
"catalogue of the phenomena of dreams," p. 295. That, as well as those
headed "difficulty of analysing the human mind" and "how the analysis
should be carried on" are from Mrs. Shelley's edition.
[12] I give this precisely as printed by Mrs. Shelley, though some
errors of transcription may be suspected. The failure to work out the
sentence to any proper construction may indeed be incident to the
incomplete state of the fragment; but the term universal system of
beings, with which the fragment closes, is so unusual, so inappropriate
to the context that, one can hardly doubt, a careful examination of the
MS. would shew the last word to be things, not beings.
[13] At this point the MS. from which the fragment was given in 1840
closes. Mrs. Shelley says:— "I remember well his coming to me from
writing it, pale and agitated, to seek refuge in conversation from the
fearful emotions it excited. No man, as these fragments prove, had such
keen sensations as Shelley. His nervous temperament was wound up by the
delicacy of his health to an intense degree of sensibility, and while
his active mind pondered for ever upon, and drew conclusions from his
sensations his reveries increased their vivacity, till they mingled
with, and were one with thought, and both became absorbing and
tumultuous, even to Physical pain." The final page of the M.S. fragment
referred to at pp. 282 and 290 seems to be a note for the Speculations
on Morals, and is inserted at pp. 303–4.