that justice cannot be done to the subject without such a division of it.

To this future work, then, I must refer the reader who is disposed to require, at the outset, a precise explanation of the terms which occur in my title. It is not possible, without entering into this philosophy, to explain adequately how science which is INDUCTIVE differs from that which is not so; or why some portions of knowledge may properly be selected from the general mass and termed SCIENCE. It will be sufficient at present to say, that the sciences of which we have here to treat, are those which are commonly known as the Physical Sciences; and that by Induction is to be understood that process of collecting general truths from the examination of particular facts, by which such sciences have been formed.

There are, however, two or three remarks, of which the application will occur so frequently, and will tend so much to give us a clearer view of some of the subjects which occur in our history, that I will state them now in a brief and general manner (A).

Facts and Ideas.-In the first place, then, I remark, that, to the formation of science, two things are requisite ;-Facts and Ideas; observation of Things without, and an inward effort of Thought; or, in other words, Sense and Reason. Neither of these elements, by itself, can constitute substantial general knowledge. The impressions of sense, un

connected by some rational and speculative principle, can only end in a practical acquaintance with individual objects; the operations of the rational faculties, on the other hand, if allowed to go on without a constant reference to external things, can lead only to empty abstraction and barren ingenuity. Real speculative knowledge demands the combination of the two ingredients;-right reason, and facts to reason upon. It has been well said, that true knowledge is the interpretation of nature; and thus it requires both the interpreting mind, and nature for its subject; both the document, and the ingenuity to read it aright. Thus invention, acuteness, and connexion of thought, are necessary on the one hand, for the progress of philosophical knowledge; and on the other hand, the precise and steady application of these faculties to facts well known and clearly conceived. It is easy to point out instances in which science has failed to advance, in consequence of the absence of one or other of these requisites; indeed, by far the greater part of the course of the world, the history of most times and most countries, exhibits a condition thus stationary with respect to knowledge. The facts, the impressions on the senses, on which the first successful attempts at physical knowledge proceeded, were as well known long before the time when they were thus turned to account, as at that period. The motions of the stars, and the effects of weight, were familiar to man before the rise of the Greek astro

nomy and mechanics: but the "diviner mind" was still absent; the act of thought had not been exerted, by which these facts were bound together under the form of laws and principles. And even at this day, the tribes of uncivilized and half-civilized man over the whole face of the earth, have before their eyes a vast body of facts, of exactly the same nature as those with which Europe has built the stately fabric of her physical philosophy; but, in almost every other part of the earth, the process of the intellect by which these facts become science, is unknown. The scientific faculty does not work. The scattered stones are there, but the builder's hand is wanting. And again, we have no lack of proof that mere activity of thought is equally inefficient in producing real knowledge. Almost the whole of the career of the Greek schools of philosophy; of the schoolmen of Europe in the middle ages; of the Arabian and Indian philosophers; shows us that we may have extreme ingenuity and subtlety, invention and connexion, demonstration and method; and yet that out of these germs, no physical science may be developed. We may obtain, by such means, logic and metaphysics, and even geometry and algebra; but out of such materials we shall never form mechanics and optics, chemistry and physiology. How impossible the formation of these sciences is without a constant and careful reference to observation and experiment ;;-how rapid and prosperous their progress

may be when they draw from such sources the materials on which the mind of the philosopher employs itself;-the history of those branches of knowledge for the last three hundred years abundantly teaches us.

Accordingly, the existence of clear Ideas applied to distinct Facts will be discernible in the History of Science, whenever any marked advance takes place. And, in tracing the progress of the various provinces of knowledge which come under our survey, it will be important for us to see, that, at all such epochs, such a combination has occurred; that whenever any material step in general knowledge has been made,-whenever any philosophical discovery arrests our attention;-some man or men come before us, who have possessed, in an eminent degree, a clearness of the ideas which belong to the subject in question, and who have applied such ideas in a vigorous and distinct manner to ascertained facts and exact observations. We shall never proceed through any considerable range of our narrative, without having occasion to remind the reader of this reflection.

Successive Steps in Science.-But there is another remark which we must also make. Such sciences as we have here to do with, are, commonly, not formed by a single act; they are not completed by the discovery of one great principle. On the contrary, they consist in a long-continued advance; a series of changes; a repeated

progress from one principle to another, different and often apparently contradictory. Now, it is important to remember that this contradiction is apparent only. The principles which constituted the triumph of the preceding stages of the science, may appear to be subverted and ejected by the later discoveries, but in fact they are, (so far as they were true,) taken up into the subsequent doctrines and included in them. They continue to be an essential part of the science. The earlier truths are not expelled but absorbed, not contradicted but extended; and the history of each science, which may thus appear like a succession of revolutions, is, in reality, a series of developements. In the intellectual, as in the material world,——

Omnia mutantur nil interit . .

Nec manet ut fuerat nec formas servat easdem,

Sed tamen ipsa eadem est.

All changes, nought is lost; the forms are changed,
And that which has been is not what it was,

Yet that which has been is.

Nothing which was done was useless or unessential, though it ceases to be conspicuous and primary.

Thus the final form of each science contains the substance of each of its preceding modifications; and all that was at any antecedent period discovered and established, ministers to the ultimate developement of its proper branch of knowledge. Such previous doctrines may require to be made precise and definite, to have their superfluous and