AT an early period of history there appeared in men a propensity to pursue speculative inquiries concerning the various parts and properties of the material world. What they saw excited them to meditate, to conjecture, and to reason: they endeavored to account for natural events, to trace their causes, to reduce them to their principles. This habit of mind, or, at least that modification of it which we have here to consider, seems to have been first unfolded among the Greeks. And during that obscure introductory interval which elapsed while the speculative tendencies of men were as yet hardly disentangled from the practical, those who were most eminent in such inquiries were distinguished by the same term of praise which is applied to sagacity in matters of action, and were called wise men—σοφοὶ. But when it came to be clearly felt by such persons that their endeavors were suggested by the love of knowledge, a motive different from the motives which lead to the wisdom of active life, a name was adopted of a more appropriate, as well as of a more modest signification, and they were termed philosophers, or lovers of wisdom. This appellation is said7 to have been first assumed by Pythagoras. Yet he, in Herodotus, instead of having this title, is called a powerful sophist—Ἑλλήνων οὐ τῷ ἀσθενεστάτῳ σοφιστῇ Πυθαγόρῃ;8 the historian using this word, as it would seem, without intending to imply that misuse of reason which the term afterwards came to denote. The historians of literature 56 placed Pythagoras at the origin of the Italic School, one of the two main lines of succession of the early Greek philosophers: but the other, the Ionic School, which more peculiarly demands our attention, in consequence of its character and subsequent progress, is deduced from Thales, who preceded the age of Philosophy, and was one of the sophi, or “wise men of Greece.”

The Ionic School was succeeded in Greece by several others; and the subjects which occupied the attention of these schools became very extensive. In fact, the first attempts were, to form systems which should explain the laws and causes of the material universe; and to these were soon added all the great questions which our moral condition and faculties suggest. The physical philosophy of these schools is especially deserving of our study, as exhibiting the character and fortunes of the most memorable attempt at universal knowledge which has ever been made. It is highly instructive to trace the principles of this undertaking; for the course pursued was certainly one of the most natural and tempting which can be imagined; the essay was made by a nation unequalled in fine mental endowments, at the period of its greatest activity and vigor; and yet it must be allowed (for, at least so far as physical science is concerned, none will contest this), to have been entirely unsuccessful. We cannot consider otherwise than as an utter failure, an endeavor to discover the causes of things, of which the most complete results are the Aristotelian physical treatises; and which, after reaching the point which these treatises mark, left the human mind to remain stationary, at any rate on all such subjects, for nearly two thousand years.

The early philosophers of Greece entered upon the work of physical speculation in a manner which showed the vigor and confidence of the questioning spirit, as yet untamed by labors and reverses. It was for later ages to learn that man must acquire, slowly and patiently, letter by letter, the alphabet in which nature writes her answers to such inquiries. The first students wished to divine, at a single glance, the whole import of her book. They endeavored to discover the origin and principle of the universe; according to Thales, water was the origin of all things, according to Anaximenes, air; and Heraclitus considered fire as the essential principle of the universe. It has been conjectured, with great plausibility, that this tendency to give to their Philosophy the form of a Cosmogony, was owing to the influence of the poetical Cosmogonies and Theogonies which had been produced and admired at a still earlier age. Indeed, such wide and ambitious 57 doctrines as those which have been mentioned, were better suited to the dim magnificence of poetry, than to the purpose of a philosophy which was to bear the sharp scrutiny of reason. When we speak of the principles of things, the term, even now, is very ambiguous and indefinite in its import, but how much more was that the case in the first attempts to use such abstractions! The term which is commonly used in this sense (ἀρχὴ), signified at first the beginning; and in its early philosophical applications implied some obscure mixed reference to the mechanical, chemical, organic, and historical causes of the visible state of things, besides the theological views which at this period were only just beginning to be separated from the physical. Hence we are not to be surprised if the sources from which the opinions of this period appear to be derived are rather vague suggestions and casual analogies, than any reasons which will bear examination. Aristotle conjectures, with considerable probability, that the doctrine of Thales, according to which water was the universal element, resulted from the manifest importance of moisture in the support of animal and vegetable life.9 But such precarious analyses of these obscure and loose dogmas of early antiquity are of small consequence to our object.

In more limited and more definite examples of inquiry concerning the causes of natural appearances, and in the attempts made to satisfy men’s curiosity in such cases, we appear to discern a more genuine prelude to the true spirit of physical inquiry. One of the most remarkable instances of this kind is to be found in the speculations which Herodotus records, relative to the cause of the floods of the Nile. “Concerning the nature of this river,” says the father of history,10 “I was not able to learn any thing, either from the priests or from any one besides, though I questioned them very pressingly. For the Nile is flooded for a hundred days, beginning with the summer solstice; and after this time it diminishes, and is, during the whole winter, very small. And on this head I was not able to obtain any thing satisfactory from any one of the Egyptians, when I asked what is the power by which the Nile is in its nature the reverse of other rivers.”

We may see, I think, in the historian’s account, that the Grecian mind felt a craving to discover the reasons of things which other nations did not feel. The Egyptians, it appears, had no theory, and felt no want of a theory. Not so the Greeks; they had their reasons to render, though they were not such as satisfied Herodotus. “Some 58 of the Greeks,” he says, “who wish to be considered great philosophers (Ἑλλήνων τινες ἐπισήμοι βουλόμενοι γενέσθαι σοφίην), have propounded three ways of accounting for these floods. Two of them,” he adds, “I do not think worthy of record, except just so far as to mention them.” But as these are some of the earliest Greek essays in physical philosophy, it will be worth while, even at this day, to preserve the brief notice he has given of them, and his own reasonings upon the same subject.

“One of these opinions holds that the Etesian winds [which blew from the north] are the cause of these floods, by preventing the Nile from flowing into the sea.” Against this the historian reasons very simply and sensibly. “Very often when the Etesian winds do not blow, the Nile is flooded nevertheless. And moreover, if the Etesian winds were the cause, all other rivers, which have their course opposite to these winds, ought to undergo the same changes as the Nile; which the rivers of Syria and Libya so circumstanced do not.”

“The next opinion is still more unscientific (ἀνεπιστημονεστέρη), and is, in truth, marvellous for its folly. This holds that the ocean flows all round the earth, and that the Nile comes out of the ocean, and by that means produces its effects.” “Now,” says the historian, “the man who talks about this ocean-river, goes into the region of fable, where it is not easy to demonstrate that he is wrong. I know of no such river. But I suppose that Homer and some of the earlier poets invented this fiction and introduced it into their poetry.”

He then proceeds to a third account, which to a modern reasoner would appear not at all unphilosophical in itself, but which he, nevertheless, rejects in a manner no less decided than the others. “The third opinion, though much the most plausible, is still more wrong than the others; for it asserts an impossibility, namely, that the Nile proceeds from the melting of the snow. Now the Nile flows out of Libya, and through Ethiopia, which are very hot countries, and thus comes into Egypt, which is a colder region. How then can it proceed from snow?” He then offers several other reasons “to show,” as he says, “to any one capable of reasoning on such subjects (ἀνδρί γε λογίζεσθαι τοιούτων πέρι οἵῳ τε ἔοντι), that the assertion cannot be true. The winds which blow from the southern regions are hot; the inhabitants are black; the swallows and kites (ἰκτῖνοι) stay in the country the whole year; the cranes fly the colds of Scythia, and seek their warm winter-quarters there; which would not be if it snowed ever so little.” He adds another reason, founded apparently upon 59 some limited empirical maxim of weather-wisdom taken from the climate of Greece. “Libya,” he said, “has neither rain nor ice, and therefore no snow; for, in five days after a fall of snow there must be a fall of rain; so that if it snowed in those regions it must rain too.” I need not observe that Herodotus was not aware of the difference between the climate of high mountains and plains in a torrid region; but it is impossible not to be struck both with the activity and the coherency of thought displayed by the Greek mind in this primitive physical inquiry.

But I must not omit the hypothesis which Herodotus himself proposes, after rejecting those which have been already given. It does not appear to me easy to catch his exact meaning, but the statement will still be curious. “If,” he says, “one who has condemned opinions previously promulgated may put forward his own opinion concerning so obscure a matter, I will state why it seems to me that the Nile is flooded in summer.” This opinion he propounds at first with an oracular brevity, which it is difficult to suppose that he did not intend to be impressive. “In winter the sun is carried by the seasons away from his former course, and goes to the upper parts of Libya. And there, in short, is the whole account; for that region to which this divinity (the sun) is nearest, must naturally be most scant of water, and the river-sources of that country must be dried up.”

But the lively and garrulous Ionian immediately relaxes from this apparent reserve. “To explain the matter more at length,” he proceeds, “it is thus. The sun when he traverses the upper parts of Libya, does what he commonly does in summer;—he draws the water to him (ἕλκει ἐπ’ ἑωϋτὸν τὸ ὕδωρ), and having thus drawn it, he pushes it to the upper regions (of the air probably), and then the winds take it and disperse it till they dissolve in moisture. And thus the winds which blow from those countries, Libs and Notus, are the most moist of all winds. Now when the winter relaxes and the sun returns to the north, he still draws water from all the rivers, but they are increased by showers and rain torrents so that they are in flood till the summer comes; and then, the rain falling and the sun still drawing them, they become small. But the Nile, not being fed by rains, yet being drawn by the sun, is, alone of all rivers, much more scanty in the winter than in the summer. For in summer it is drawn like all other rivers, but in winter it alone has its supplies shut up. And in this way, I have been led to think the sun is the cause of the occurrence in question.” We may remark that the historian here appears to 60 ascribe the inequality of the Nile at different seasons to the influence of the sun upon its springs alone, the other cause of change, the rains being here excluded; and that, on this supposition, the same relative effects would be produced whether the sun increase the sources in winter by melting the snows, or diminish them in summer by what he calls drawing them upwards.

This specimen of the early efforts of the Greeks in physical speculations, appears to me to speak strongly for the opinion that their philosophy on such subjects was the native growth of the Greek mind, and owed nothing to the supposed lore of Egypt and the East; an opinion which has been adopted with regard to the Greek Philosophy in general by the most competent judges on a full survey of the evidence.11 Indeed, we have no evidence whatever that, at any period, the African or Asiatic nations (with the exception perhaps of the Indians) ever felt this importunate curiosity with regard to the definite application of the idea of cause and effect to visible phenomena; or drew so strong a line between a fabulous legend and a reason rendered; or attempted to ascend to a natural cause by classing together phenomena of the same kind. We may be well excused, therefore, for believing that they could not impart to the Greeks what they themselves did not possess; and so far as our survey goes, physical philosophy has its origin, apparently spontaneous and independent, in the active and acute intellect of Greece.

Sect. 2.—Primitive Mistake in Greek Physical Philosophy.

We now proceed to examine with what success the Greeks followed the track into which they had thus struck. And here we are obliged to confess that they very soon turned aside from the right road to truth, and deviated into a vast field of error, in which they and their successors have wandered almost to the present time. It is not necessary here to inquire why those faculties which appear to be bestowed upon us for the discovery of truth, were permitted by Providence to fail so signally in answering that purpose; whether, like the powers by which we seek our happiness, they involve a responsibility on our part, and may be defeated by rejecting the guidance of a higher faculty; or whether these endowments, though they did not 61 immediately lead man to profound physical knowledge, answered some nobler and better purpose in his constitution and government. The fact undoubtedly was, that the physical philosophy of the Greeks soon became trifling and worthless; and it is proper to point out, as precisely as we can, in what the fundamental mistake consisted.

To explain this, we may in the first place return for a moment to Herodotus’s account of the cause of the floods of the Nile.

The reader will probably have observed a remarkable phrase used by Herodotus, in his own explanation of these inundations. He says that the sun draws, or attracts, the water; a metaphorical term, obviously intended to denote some more general and abstract conception than that of the visible operation which the word primarily signifies. This abstract notion of “drawing” is, in the historian, as we see, very vague and loose; it might, with equal propriety, be explained to mean what we now understand by mechanical or by chemical attraction, or pressure, or evaporation. And in like manner, all the first attempts to comprehend the operations of nature, led to the introduction of abstract conceptions, often vague, indeed, but not, therefore, unmeaning; such as motion and velocity, force and pressure, impetus and momentum (ῥοπὴ). And the next step in philosophizing, necessarily was to endeavor to make these vague abstractions more clear and fixed, so that the logical faculty should be able to employ them securely and coherently. But there were two ways of making this attempt; the one, by examining the words only, and the thoughts which they call up; the other, by attending to the facts and things which bring these abstract terms into use. The latter, the method of real inquiry, was the way to success; but the Greeks followed the former, the verbal or notional course, and failed.

If Herodotus, when the notion of the sun’s attracting the waters of rivers had entered into his mind, had gone on to instruct himself, by attention to facts, in what manner this notion could be made more definite, while it still remained applicable to all the knowledge which could be obtained, he would have made some progress towards a true solution of his problem. If, for instance, he had tried to ascertain whether this Attraction which the sun exerted upon the waters of rivers, depended on his influence at their fountains only, or was exerted over their whole course, and over waters which were not parts of rivers, he would have been led to reject his hypothesis; for he would have found, by observations sufficiently obvious, that the sun’s Attraction, as shown in such cases, is a tendency to lessen all expanded and 62 open collections of moisture, whether flowing from a spring or not; and it would then be seen that this influence, operating on the whole surface of the Nile, must diminish it as well as other rivers, in summer, and therefore could not be the cause of its overflow. He would thus have corrected his first loose conjecture by a real study of nature, and might, in the course of his meditations, have been led to available notions of Evaporation, or other natural actions. And, in like manner, in other cases, the rude attempts at explanation, which the first exercise of the speculative faculty produced, might have been gradually concentrated and refined, so as to fall in, both with the requisitions of reason and the testimony of sense.

But this was not the direction which the Greek speculators took. On the contrary; as soon as they had introduced into their philosophy any abstract and general conceptions, they proceeded to scrutinize these by the internal light of the mind alone, without any longer looking abroad into the world of sense. They took for granted that philosophy must result from the relations of those notions which are involved in the common use of language, and they proceeded to seek their philosophical doctrines by studying such notions. They ought to have reformed and fixed their usual conceptions by Observation; they only analyzed and expanded them by Reflection: they ought to have sought by trial, among the Notions which passed through their minds, some one which admitted of exact application to Facts; they selected arbitrarily, and, consequently, erroneously, the Notions according to which Facts should be assembled and arranged: they ought to have collected clear Fundamental Ideas from the world of things by inductive acts of thought; they only derived results by Deduction from one or other of their familiar Conceptions.12

When this false direction had been extensively adopted by the Greek philosophers, we may treat of it as the method of their Schools. Under that title we must give a further account of it. 63

CHAPTER II.

The Greek School Philosophy.

Sect. 1.—The general Foundation of the Greek School Philosophy.

THE physical philosophy of the Greek Schools was formed by looking at the material world through the medium of that common language which men employ to answer the common occasions of life; and by adopting, arbitrarily, as the grounds of comparison of facts, and of inference from them, notions more abstract and large than those with which men are practically familiar, but not less vague and obscure. Such a philosophy, however much it might be systematized, by classifying and analyzing the conceptions which it involves, could not overcome the vices of its fundamental principle. But before speaking of these defects, we must give some indications of its character.

The propensity to seek for principles in the common usages of language may be discerned at a very early period. Thus we have an example of it in a saying which is reported of Thales, the founder of Greek philosophy.13 When he was asked, “What is the greatest thing?” he replied, “Place; for all other things are in the world, but the world is in it.” In Aristotle we have the consummation of this mode of speculation. The usual point from which he starts in his inquiries is, that we say thus or thus in common language. Thus, when he has to discuss the question, whether there be, in any part of the universe, a Void, or space in which there is nothing, he inquires first in how many senses we say that one thing is in another. He enumerates many of these;14 we say the part is in the whole, as the finger is in the hand; again we say, the species is in the genus, as man is included in animal; again, the government of Greece is in the king; and various other senses are described or exemplified, but of all these the most proper is when we say a thing is in a vessel, and generally, in place. He next examines what place is, and comes to this conclusion, that “if about a body there be another body including it, it is in place, and if not, not.” A body moves when it changes its place; but 64 he adds, that if water be in a vessel, the vessel being at rest, the parts of the water may still move, for they are included by each other; so that while the whole does not change its place, the parts may change their places in a circular order. Proceeding then to the question of a void, he, as usual, examines the different senses in which the term is used, and adopts, as the most proper, place without matter; with no useful result, as we shall soon see.

Again,15 in a question concerning mechanical action, he says, “When a man moves a stone by pushing it with a stick, we say both that the man moves the stone, and that the stick moves the stone, but the latter more properly.”

Again, we find the Greek philosophers applying themselves to extract their dogmas from the most general and abstract notions which they could detect; for example,—from the conception of the Universe as One or as Many things. They tried to determine how far we may, or must, combine with these conceptions that of a whole, of parts, of number, of limits, of place, of beginning or end, of full or void, of rest or motion, of cause and effect, and the like. The analysis of such conceptions with such a view, occupies, for instance, almost the whole of Aristotle’s Treatise on the Heavens.

The Dialogue of Plato, which is entitled Parmenides, appears at first as if its object were to show the futility of this method of philosophizing; for the philosopher whose name it bears, is represented as arguing with an Athenian named Aristotle,16 and, by a process of metaphysical analysis, reducing him at least to this conclusion, “that whether One exist, or do not exist, it follows that both it and other things, with reference to themselves and to each other, all and in all respects, both are and are not, both appear and appear not.” Yet the method of Plato, so far as concerns truths of that kind with which we are here concerned, was little more efficacious than that of his rival. It consists mainly, as may be seen in several of the dialogues, and especially in the Timæus, in the application of notions as loose as those of the Peripatetics; for example, the conceptions of the Good, the Beautiful, the Perfect; and these are rendered still more arbitrary, by assuming an acquaintance with the views of the Creator of the universe. The philosopher is thus led to maxims which agree with those 65 of the Aristotelians, that there can be no void, that things seek their own place, and the like.17

Another mode of reasoning, very widely applied in these attempts, was the doctrine of contrarieties, in which it was assumed, that adjectives or substantives which are in common language, or in some abstract mode of conception, opposed to each other, must point at some fundamental antithesis in nature, which it is important to study. Thus Aristotle18 says, that the Pythagoreans, from the contrasts which number suggests, collected ten principles,—Limited and Unlimited, Odd and Even, One and Many, Right and Left, Male and Female, Rest and Motion, Straight and Curved, Light and Darkness, Good and Evil, Square and Oblong. We shall see hereafter, that Aristotle himself deduced the doctrine of Four Elements, and other dogmas, by oppositions of the same kind.

The physical speculator of the present day will learn without surprise, that such a mode of discussion as this, led to no truths of real or permanent value. The whole mass of the Greek philosophy, therefore, shrinks into an almost imperceptible compass, when viewed with reference to the progress of physical knowledge. Still the general character of this system, and its fortunes from the time of its founders to the overthrow of their authority, are not without their instruction, and, it may be hoped, not without their interest. I proceed, therefore, to give some account of these doctrines in their most fully developed and permanently received form, that in which they were presented by Aristotle.

Sect. 2.—The Aristotelian Physical Philosophy.

The principal physical treatises of Aristotle are, the eight Books of “Physical Lectures,” the four Books “Of the Heavens,” the two Books “Of Production and Destruction:” for the Book “Of the World” is now universally acknowledged to be spurious; and the “Meteorologies,” though full of physical explanations of natural phenomena, does not exhibit the doctrines and reasonings of the school in so general a form; the same may be said of the “Mechanical Problems.” The treatises on the various subjects of Natural History, “On Animals,” “On the Parts of Animals,” “On Plants,” “On Physiognomonics,” “On Colors,” “On Sound,” contain an extraordinary 66 accumulation of facts, and manifest a wonderful power of systematizing; but are not works which expound principles, and therefore do not require to be here considered.

The Physical Lectures are possibly the work concerning which a well-known anecdote is related by Simplicius, a Greek commentator of the sixth century, as well as by Plutarch. It is said, that Alexander the Great wrote to his former tutor to this effect; “You have not done well in publishing these lectures; for how shall we, your pupils, excel other men, if you make that public to all, which we learnt from you?” To this Aristotle is said to have replied: “My Lectures are published and not published; they will be intelligible to those who heard them, and to none besides.” This may very easily be a story invented and circulated among those who found the work beyond their comprehension; and it cannot be denied, that to make out the meaning and reasoning of every part, would be a task very laborious and difficult, if not impossible. But we may follow the import of a large portion of the Physical Lectures with sufficient clearness to apprehend the character and principles of the reasoning; and this is what I shall endeavor to do.

The author’s introductory statement of his view of the nature of philosophy falls in very closely with what has been said, that he takes his facts and generalizations as they are implied in the structure of language. “We must in all cases proceed,” he says, “from what is known to what is unknown.” This will not be denied; but we can hardly follow him in his inference. He adds, “We must proceed, therefore, from universal to particular. And something of this,” he pursues, “may be seen in language; for names signify things in a general and indefinite manner, as circle, and by defining we unfold them into particulars.” He illustrates this by saying, “thus children at first call all men father, and all women mother, but afterwards distinguish.”

In accordance with this view, he endeavors to settle several of the great questions concerning the universe, which had been started among subtle and speculative men, by unfolding the meaning of the words and phrases which are applied to the most general notions of things and relations. We have already noticed this method. A few examples will illustrate it further:—Whether there was or was not a void, or place without matter, had already been debated among rival sects of philosophers. The antagonist arguments were briefly these:—There must be a void, because a body cannot move into a space except it is 67 empty, and therefore without a void there could be no motion:—and, on the other hand, there is no void, for the intervals between bodies are filled with air, and air is something. These opinions had even been supported by reference to experiment. On the one hand, Anaxagoras and his school had shown, that air, when confined, resisted compression, by squeezing a blown bladder, and pressing down an inverted vessel in the water; on the other hand, it was alleged that a vessel full of fine ashes held as much water as if the ashes were not there, which could only be explained by supposing void spaces among the ashes. Aristotle decides that there is no void, on such arguments as this:19—In a void there could be no difference of up and down; for as in nothing there are no differences, so there are none in a privation or negation; but a void is merely a privation or negation of matter; therefore, in a void, bodies could not move up and down, which it is in their nature to do. It is easily seen that such a mode of reasoning, elevates the familiar forms of language and the intellectual connections of terms, to a supremacy over facts; making truth depend upon whether terms are or are not privative, and whether we say that bodies fall naturally. In such a philosophy every new result of observation would be compelled to conform to the usual combinations of phrases, as these had become associated by the modes of apprehension previously familiar.

It is not intended here to intimate that the common modes of apprehension, which are the basis of common language, are limited and casual. They imply, on the contrary, universal and necessary conditions of our perceptions and conceptions; thus all things are necessarily apprehended as existing in Time and Space, and as connected by relations of Cause and Effect; and so far as the Aristotelian philosophy reasons from these assumptions, it has a real foundation, though even in this case the conclusions are often insecure. We have an example of this reasoning in the eighth Book,20 where he proves that there never was a time in which change and motion did not exist; “For if all things were at rest, the first motion must have been produced by some change in some of these things; that is, there must have been a change before the first change;” and again, “How can before and after apply when time is not? or how can time be when motion is not? If,” he adds, “time is a numeration of motion, and if time be eternal, motion must be eternal.” But he sometimes 68 introduces principles of a more arbitrary character; and besides the general relations of thought, takes for granted the inventions of previous speculators; such, for instance, as the then commonly received opinions concerning the frame of the world. From the assertion that motion is eternal, proved in the manner just stated, Aristotle proceeds by a curious train of reasoning, to identify this eternal motion with the diurnal motion of the heavens. “There must,” he says, “be something which is the First Mover:”21 this follows from the relation of causes and effects. Again, “Motion must go on constantly, and, therefore, must be either continuous or successive. Now what is continuous is more properly said to take place constantly, than what is successive. Also the continuous is better; but we always suppose that which is better to take place in nature, if it be possible. The motion of the First Mover will, therefore, be continuous, if such an eternal motion be possible.” We here see the vague judgment of better and worse introduced, as that of natural and unnatural was before, into physical reasonings.

I proceed with Aristotle’s argument.22 “We have now, therefore, to show that there may be an infinite single, continuous motion, and that this is circular.” This is, in fact, proved, as may readily be conceived, from the consideration that a body may go on perpetually revolving uniformly in a circle. And thus we have a demonstration, on the principles of this philosophy, that there is and must be a First Mover, revolving eternally with a uniform circular motion.

Though this kind of philosophy may appear too trifling to deserve being dwelt upon, it is important for our purpose so far as to exemplify it, that we may afterwards advance, confident that we have done it no injustice.

I will now pass from the doctrines relating to the motions of the heavens, to those which concern the material elements of the universe. And here it may be remarked that the tendency (of which we are here tracing the development) to extract speculative opinions from the relations of words, must be very natural to man; for the very widely accepted doctrine of the Four Elements which appears to be founded on the opposition of the adjectives hot and cold, wet and dry, is much older than Aristotle, and was probably one of the earliest of philosophical dogmas. The great master of this philosophy, however, puts the opinion in a more systematic manner than his predecessors. 69

“We seek,” he says,23 “the principles of sensible things, that is, of tangible bodies. We must take, therefore, not all the contrarieties of quality, but those only which have reference to the touch. Thus black and white, sweet and bitter, do not differ as tangible qualities, and therefore must be rejected from our consideration.

“Now the contrarieties of quality which refer to the touch are these: hot, cold; dry, wet; heavy, light; hard, soft; unctuous, meagre; rough, smooth; dense, rare.” He then proceeds to reject all but the four first of these, for various reasons; heavy and light, because they are not active and passive qualities; the others, because they are combinations of the four first, which therefore he infers to be the four elementary qualities.

“24Now in four things there are six combinations of two; but the combinations of two opposites, as hot and cold, must be rejected; we have, therefore, four elementary combinations, which agree with the four apparently elementary bodies. Fire is hot and dry; air is hot and wet (for steam is air); water is cold and wet, earth is cold and dry.”

It may be remarked that this disposition to assume that some common elementary quality must exist in the cases in which we habitually apply a common adjective, as it began before the reign of the Aristotelian philosophy, so also survived its influence. Not to mention other cases, it would be difficult to free Bacon’s Inquisitio in naturam calidi, “Examination of the nature of heat,” from the charge of confounding together very different classes of phenomena under the cover of the word hot.

The correction of these opinions concerning the elementary composition of bodies belongs to an advanced period in the history of physical knowledge, even after the revival of its progress. But there are some of the Aristotelian doctrines which particularly deserve our attention, from the prominent share they had in the very first beginnings of that revival; I mean the doctrines concerning motion.

These are still founded upon the same mode of reasoning from adjectives; but in this case, the result follows, not only from the opposition of the words, but also from the distinction of their being absolutely or relatively true. “Former writers,” says Aristotle, “have considered heavy and light relatively only, taking cases, where both things have weight, but one is lighter than the other; and they imagined that, in 70 this way, they defined what was absolutely (ἁπλῶς) heavy and light.” We now know that things which rise by their lightness do so only because they are pressed upwards by heavier surrounding bodies; and this assumption of absolute levity, which is evidently gratuitous, or rather merely nominal, entirely vitiated the whole of the succeeding reasoning. The inference was, that fire must be absolutely light, since it tends to take its place above the other three elements; earth absolutely heavy, since it tends to take its place below fire, air, and water. The philosopher argued also, with great acuteness, that air, which tends to take its place below fire and above water, must do so by its nature, and not in virtue of any combination of heavy and light elements. “For if air were composed of the parts which give fire its levity, joined with other parts which produce gravity, we might assume a quantity of air so large, that it should be lighter than a small quantity of fire, having more of the light parts.” It thus follows that each of the four elements tends to its own place, fire being the highest, air the next, water the next, and earth the lowest.

The whole of this train of errors arises from fallacies which have a verbal origin;—from considering light as opposite to heavy; and from considering levity as a quality of a body, instead of regarding it as the effect of surrounding bodies.

It is worth while to notice that a difficulty which often embarrasses persons on their entrance upon physical speculations,—the difficulty of conceiving that up and down are different directions in different places,—had been completely got over by Aristotle and the Greek philosophers. They were steadily convinced of the roundness of the earth, and saw that this truth led to the conclusion that all heavy bodies tend in converging directions to the centre. And, they added, as the heavy tends to the centre, the light tends to the exterior, “for Exterior is opposite to Centre as heavy is to light.”25